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Enfield Street Cemetery 2002 Ghost Walk

In October of 2002, Bob Tanguay, or rather one of his favorite alter egos, Isaac Kibbe, conducted a tour of the Enfield Street Cemetery.  What follows are Bob's (and Isaac's) words about and from that tour.

Dear Reader,

My "Glimpse of Enfield's past" was quickly written, for my own use, to aid my failing memory during the October 27, 2002 talk.  It was not intended to pass literary scrutiny.  If you discount spelling, grammar, punctuation, sentence structure and content etc., it was marginally ok.  I guess it is the thought that counts.  I reluctantly send you a copy hoping it can be of some use to someone more interested in Enfield recollections than English composition.



Good day to thee fine people of Enfield village and welcome to my tour, a Glimpse of Enfield's Past.  I am the materialized image of Mr. Isaac Kibbe, deceased AD 1779.  That's right, I'm a ghost, but a very amiable fellow and you have nothing to fear from me.  That is, unless someone fails to treat me with respect by not being attentive while I speak or worse, failing to laugh at my jokes.  Even then, since I am such an amiable reflection of my former self, I will give thee subtle warnings long before any traditional ghostly behavior.  I may give you a preliminary sign of unhappiness such as this [show claw].  Or, I might just call security.  If someone really riles me, I have a myriad of subtle and not so subtle options to entice thee to mend thy ways.  So beware!

I must tell thee up front that my memory is rapidly failing me but I will do everything in my power to make this tour a memorable and haunting experience.  Just for the record, I once had an excellent memory.  In fact, in the mid 19th century when the camera was invented, I had a photographic memory.  Unfortunately, I have long since run out of film.  --- That was a test!  And some of you failed it.

Now, I wish to tell thee of episodes of Enfield's past, many not recorded in local history books.  I've spent considerable time here in this graveyard recollecting and exchanging stories with my many departed friends.  Like a good wine, some tales get better with age.

To be honest, I prefer the comforts of my 3rd meetinghouse down the road, which I built in 1774.  Among other things, I was a carpenter in life.  Thou hast called my building the Old Town Hall since 1849.  It still stands proudly on Town Street, which thee now call Enfield Street.  Anyway, I live very comfortably in my attic most of the time and come here to visit my friends.  I'm still very proud of my 227-year-old Colonial building.  It once belonged to King George the Third, you know, but George and I have never spoken.

I occasionally help the museum staff by making rules for first time visitors to my building.  I know I brag a bit concerning "my" 3rd meetinghouse but I don’t get to talk to mortals often and I am so proud to still be contributing to the community in my own way.  At the entrance to "my" museum, there is a small sign that reads: "Caution -beware of resident ghost- wipe thy footwear thoroughly or risk being the focal point of my wrath throughout eternity.  Isaac - p.s. I kid thee not!" The sign works, but the tone of it does seem a little out of character for an "amiable" spirit like myself, does it not?  Oh well, I guess occasionally, you do what you must do.  I am also responsible for enforcing the rules there should the need arise.  So far, a gentle icy tap on the shoulder or a wisp of chilling vapor sent in the perpetrators direction, from an unseen source, seems to motivate them to review the posted rules.  It works!  Believe it!  You can easily see the results of my labor and the efforts of the museum staff by how well my building looks and has been maintained through the years. —That was a commercial. 

Before I start the tour, I'd like to know a little about thee.  How many of thee have had senior moments?  Be honest now, I won't tell anyone, cross my heart!  Let's see —27½.  That lady in the back had her hand part way up several times.  Me thinks she might be trouble.  It's o.k. madam, we understand a senior moment!  Now, just in case someone here is unaware of the expression "senior moment," let me ask thee this.  Have thee ever gone out to the barn to gather eggs, shoe the horse or slop the hogs and when thee arrived forgot why thee went?  That's a "senior moment."  Trust me, all these people snickering have had them.  —I'm here to tell thee it gets worse with age.  Much worse!  At my age 271 years I have senior moments on a regular basis.  In fact, I have taken them to a new level, almost a new art form.  They have gone from senior moments to senior days, weeks and months depending on the century I'm in at the time.  Do you see a pattern here that might include thee?  I want thee to know early on that I forget a great deal lately and it could happen this evening.  Now what was I saying?  Oh yes---to prevent my forgetting anything or everything this evening, I've had to write down my recollections of Enfield's past.  So---if I don't forget how to read, perhaps things will work out.

I will now show my final resting-place.  Well---maybe not my final resting place, but the place where I'm supposed to be most of the time.  I've never liked being in one spot too long.  Do you?  So, they tell me that place in there with I the lantern is where I'm supposed to stay.  I'm sorry, but the Best I can do is visit it once in a while to read the inscription --over and over again.  The inscription reads, (now pay attention) it reads: In memory of the "very amiable and useful" man, Mr. Isaac Kibbe, who was born Feb. 14, 1731 and died Feb. 11, 1779.  Did everyone hear that? I died just 3 days short of my 48th birthday.  OOOOOH!  I like that part about "very amiable and useful." Nice touch.  Anyway—It goes on to say—Reader behold as thou pass by, as thou art now – so once was I, as I am now, soon thou must be, prepare for death and follow me.  Time was I stood as thou do now, and view’d ye dead as thou dost me, fr long thou’l lye as low as I and others stand and look on thee. —Forsooth—my generation did ramble on so.  In your terminology they—told it like it was!  Today I would prefer a little gentler warning of things to come.  AT the very top of my headstone there is an hourglass with its contents at the bottom of the glass.  In my time, we seemed to prefer fire and brimstone warnings, did we not?  You know, looking back, we humans take dying too seriously.  There is humor even in death.  Take for example the cemetery record that states: Mr. Isaac Kibbe died in 1779 being 48 years of age, wanting 3 days.  I think that’s humorous.  Actually, at the time, I wanted as many more days as I could get. 

Please remember those previous words—"very amiable and useful."  I was chosen by my departed friends here to represent them and speak to you this evening.  Many of them are timid souls around mortals.  I believe they chose me because of the words in my epitaph—"very amiable and useful"—I also materialize more completely than most ghosts.  Don’t you agree?  Well—for now, I guess thee will have to take my word for it.  Anyway—I will now tell you a little about my background.

My grandfather Elisha Kibbe came from Salem in Massachusetts Bay Colony in 1680 before the witch trials.  My grandparents were blessed with the first male baby born in Enfield February 14, 1683.  The baby, my father, whose final resting-place is there, was also named Isaac.  Many of my family’s descendants still live in the area including Enfield.

The story of the next people I will discuss is well documented.  John and Robert Pease were the first Europeans here from Salem in Massachusetts Bay Colony in the winter of 1679/80.  They built a dugout shelter 40 rods or 220 yards east of the entrance you came in, where the first meetinghouse was built in 1684.  That would place the dugout in the down-slope in front of us.  They went back to Salem in the spring of 1680 to collect their families.  On their return they built better dwellings and John Pease laid out the first plat plan between 1680 and 1700 for the new settlement.  Permanent homes soon started to appear.  The oldest surviving home is that later owned by Ephriam Pease built in 1702.  It stands at 1380 Enfield Street. 

Our early settlers were devout God-fearing and hard working Puritans of English stock.  They first prayed to the Lord in this wilderness out of doors and then in their modest homes.  The village progressed in number and stature and the population rose steadily.  A second meetinghouse, larger than the first, was built in 1705 and, on July 8, 1741, fire and brimstone preacher Jonathan Edwards preached his world-famous sermon there, "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God." The second meetinghouse's location is identified by a boulder near the present Montessori School at 1370 Enfield Street.  Religion and the meetinghouse in which it was practiced were essential elements in daily living.  In addition to a house of prayer, the meetinghouse was the place where all official village business was conducted and information gathered and distributed. 

A committee was formed from Springfield, Massachusetts Bay Colony, headed by John Pynchon, which bought land for the town from the Podunk Indians on March 16, 1688, for 25 pounds sterling.  Enfield was settled later than most towns along the Connecticut River because it was covered by dense forest and full of dreaded carnivores including bears, wolves and catamount (mountain lion). 

Many of the immigrants were essentially farmers and it was extremely difficult to start a farm in a forest, but some did.  When most of the fertile floodplain areas along the river including Windsor, Wethersfield and Hartford were spoken for, forests became an alternative.  The people soon discovered that the forest was not all bad and a great deal of good would come from them.  Yellow pine for building houses was abundant.  Fire wood for cooking and heating was everywhere.  Farmers who could no longer farm for lack of tillable soil learned new trades and adapted well.  Turpentine was a useful item and products requiring much heat for processing like maple syrup and grain alcohol became very profitable.  Hunting and fishing sustained many in and around the forest and small family gardens were essential for a variety in their diet. Eventually there were more areas of tillable soil to support farming.

Water power of the Connecticut River, the Scantic River and Asnuntuck Brook drew many entrepreneurs, one, even before the village was formed.  In 1674, a sawmill was built by John Pynchon of Springfield, Massachusetts Bay Colony.  Unfortunately, it was destroyed in the King Phillip war by the Wampanoag Indians in 1675.  Many mills sprang up along our streams starting in 1683.  In 1828 and 1835 major enterprises like the Thompson Company and the Hazard Powder Company brought great expansion to the town.  Through the years, the water created the energy to power many local mills including grist, clothing and grain mills, a forge, a trip hammer mill, distilleries, cabinet shops, a hattery, a lead pipe shop, cooper shops, and a pail factory.  These mills and shops required manpower and the town grew from 2 people in 1679, to 75 in 1683, to 1000 in 1750, to 3700 in 1850, to 10,000 in 1900, and, with the advent of electricity early in the 20th century, the population grew even faster and in 1950 the population was 15,000.  Today’s population is over 45,000 people. 

Back to the 1770's. There were approximately 1400 villagers and the second meetinghouse was in poor condition and too small for the ever increasing population.  I, Isaac Kibbe, in case you have forgotten my name, was commissioned to build the 3rd meetinghouse in 1773 by the First Ecclesiastical Society of the church.  I was honored to be chosen to build a structure, which spiritually meant so much to the villagers.  I poured my heart and soul into that building which today you call the Old Town Hall.  I built it to last using chestnut beams and pumpkin pine flooring.  Thanks to the devoted people of the museum staff who maintain it so well, it remains standing in all its colonial glory to this day.  My reputation for getting things done and done correctly makes me very proud and I have enjoyed being called "very useful" as noted in the epitaph on my gravestone.  As stated previously, the meeting hall was more than a church.  It was where most civic, cultural and entertaining activities took place. 

A great deal of unofficial information including hearsay, tales, rumors and gossip was collected and dispersed in another building of mine.  I was a very active participant and the "very amiable" man who happened to own and operate the local tavern.  You may have noticed that my epitaph did not include pious or humble.  Apparently they knew me well.  This part time job kept me updated on all village and area activities.  I could have written a book.  It would have been a best seller today.  My tavern stood just south of where my 3rd meetinghouse stands today.  My pub provided me with more current, interesting and occasionally juicy information than all your news, magazines and electronic devices combined.

When Paul Revere rode north from Boston and Israel Bissel, of East Windsor, rode south from Boston to New York spreading the news that the British were coming in April of 1775, a rider, having talked to Israel in the Putnam area, came to my tavern on Town Street (now called Enfield Street) to alert the town.  I offered a drum to Thomas Abbe to get the attention of the people at Sunday service in my meetinghouse.  He spoke of the trouble around Boston and the very next morning 74 young men met at my meetinghouse and bravely marched off to war. 

This ancient burial ground contains the remains of a variety of types of people.  Some were famous, some not; some were rich, and some poor.  Most were good hard working community minded citizens and at least one was "very amiable and useful."  Some people might think "amiable and useful" are not the most appropriate adjectives to be used in an epitaph but I like them just fine.  I can easily show thee a few in here that are not amiable—in fact, they tend to be very cranky this time of year.  —They give the rest of us ghosts a bad name at Halloween time.

Anyway, being mindful of the absence of the word humble in my epitaph, I must tell thee that I am proud of the things I was able to accomplish in my mortal lifetime.  I only lived 48 years wanting 3 days.  But that was an average life span at the time.  I did my share on various church and village projects.  I supported the Revolutionary War effort generously in 1775 and beyond.  I feel my 3rd meetinghouse project was my greatest accomplishment and I am thrilled that so many people still use and admire it.  As you may have read, the church leaders liked my work so much they gave me 60 pounds sterling extra-above the agreed to sum for building it.  There wasn't much cash around at the time, so--that was a lot of pork bellies, squash, shad, cabbage, tobacco and pigeon wings.  I'm only kidding about the pigeon wings, but, if you haven't heard, so many passenger pigeons were eaten in my time that they became extinct.  Who knew!

My major regret as a mortal was that I once owned another person, a slave.  Ayah, it's true.  In your time, slavery is completely unacceptable and rightly so.  In my time however, many people did not agree and they saw nothing wrong with the practice.  Others, including myself came to realize how cruel the practice was and mended our ways.  The first u.s. census in 1790 indicated that Enfield had 13 slaves.

Mr. Ephraim Pease was a prominent businessman in Enfield.  He was the grandson of Robert Pease, one of two of our founders.  Captain Pease was the first native merchant in Enfield.  He was a contractor for the U.S. Army during the French and Indian wars and later became a very successful merchant.  For many years he was a representative of the General Assembly.  He acquired a large estate for his day and became the wealthiest man in town.  Ephraim was a slave owner.  He died in 1801 at age 81. 

Ephraim had several daughters.  As they married he built each a mansion as a wedding gift.  The homes still stand today.  Ephraim's daughter Sybil married the Reverend Elam Potter, who was the minister of my 3rd meetinghouse in the mid-1770's.  The Reverend was adamantly opposed to slavery and was extremely outspoken about the subject.  He constantly preached against slavery in Enfield and elsewhere.  Now, this gets intriguing.  You won't read about it in your history books but you could have heard all about it in my tavern at the time.  Sybil and Elam's mansion was built right next to Ephraim's house.  The Potter house was rumored to have been part of the Underground Railroad where runaway slaves were fed and housed during the day in preparation for their nightly journey on the pre-arranged escape route to northern New England or Canada.  In your time, Ephraim's house was called the Anderson house and was featured on a national television paint commercial, which stated "isn't it too bad about the Anderson house".  The house was in a deplorable condition for many years.  There was absolutely no paint to be seen.  It has since been completely restored and is now the beautiful Colonial red painted home of Mr. And Mrs. Clark at 1380 Enfield Street --anyway, back to the soap opera part of the story.  I would like to have been a fly on the wall at Ephraim's house when his daughter Sybil and his son-in-law the Reverend Elam Potter were there for family get-togethers.  Can you imagine a conversation between the slave owner and the Reverend who believed slavery was evil and inhuman and anyone owning another human being was at the very least, completely misguided if not as evil as the practice itself.  It must have been excruciating for Sybil who loved both her husband and her father.  She probably held her breath most of the time throughout the visit waiting for a verbal confrontation.  Other Enfield men owned slaves at the time and thought it their right.  We will never know for sure what transpired, but the boys at my tavern believe they had it all figured out.  Many a coin changed hands when the Reverend's contract at the 3rd meetinghouse was not renewed.  ---Coincidence?  The Reverend Potter died a few years later in 1880 at age 54 and Sybil married the Reverend Hezikiah Prudden. 

Now my good neighbor here, Augustus Hazard, is another very prominent resident.  You all know of his exploits but I will remind thee that the Hazardville Powder Co. produced 40% of the black powder used in the Civil War.  Contrary to some accounts, he never sold powder to the South after the conflict started.  The South did, however, stockpile powder before the conflict.  The company produced 12,500 lbs. Per day during the war.  The Enfield Historical Society recently did and archaeological dig off Parsons Rd. and determined the location of the Hazard Powder Co. magazine storage complex at the King’s Island landing off Parsons Rd.  The black powder was stored there in bulk awaiting shipment by flat bottomed scows down the river to Hartford where it was transferred to sea going sailing ships including the schooner Christiana and the sloop Velocity.  These merchant ships carried the dangerous cargo to New Jersey for further distribution. 

Way over there lies George Hazard, the nephew of Col. Hazard.  Notice the distance between them.  That distance might have some significance, as nephew George disliked his uncle a great deal.  The boys at the tavern never could find out why.  But they sure tried.  Anyway George wrote a very angry and revealing broadside (like a letter to the editor) in 1853 stating that Connecticut law allowed only 200 kegs of black power in a storage magazine complex at one time.  (To minimize damage should an explosion occur) according to George's broadside, Augustus was storing 15,000 kegs at Parsons Road, which far exceeded the state limit.  George stated that amount of black powder exploding would flatten Enfield, Suffield and shaken Hartford and Springfield badly.  The Enfield Historical Society has recently found newspaper accounts of the problem.  After completing some very interesting research they have determined that the destructive power of 15,000 kegs of black powder exceeds that of the ammonium nitrate used in the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing of the federal building by over 65 times.  Wow is that not amazing?  Old news articles suggest the Hazard Powder Co. eventually reduced its inventory at Parsons Road. 

Although the company lost 68 workers through its history from 1835 to 1913 they never had a fatality shipping powder, including the Civil War era while shipping 12,500 lbs. per day.  They did however have some close calls.  One day the delivery wagon from Hazardville was arriving late at King’s landing off Parsons Road.  The draysmen, who poled the shipment down the river on flat-bottomed scows, were waiting on the dock, poles in hand.  The driver of the wagon, in his haste to get the dock on time, was going too fast.  —When he crested the hill on Parsons road and tried to slow down, the horses hooves were slipping and sliding on the downslope due to the excessive speed.  The wagon bounced violently and the kegs of black power came loose from their tie downs and became airborne.  One keg ended up under the speeding wagon and broke open with black powder flying everywhere.  The wagons rear wheels were locked with the brakes on and sparks flew in all directions.  The draysmen witnessing the potential disaster dove into the Connecticut River, poles and all, for protection.  Miraculously, the powder did not blow or even burn.  A few choice words followed from the direction of the river but the Colonel's excellent shipping record remained intact.  The company’s disastrous safety record at the Hazardville mills, however, eventually required the termination of operations after the last explosion in 1913.  The good people of Hazardville had to find other work.

A less famous deceased resident not often credited for his entrepreneurial skills was blacksmith Horace Pease, a descendent of our founder, John Pease.  In 1813 Horace manufactured and patented the "Enfield Plough." The Enfield Plough was a horse drawn wooden beam agricultural device made inexpensively and sold to farmers of limited means.  His gravestone is over there in the front row near the tree and marked by the candle.  My Old Town Hall museum displays one of two of Horace Pease’s miniature ploughs used in obtaining an U.S. patent.  The first plough he submitted initially eluded destruction when the British burned the U.S. capitol in 1813.  After firing on the capitol building the British soldiers turned their canon on the patent office but the superintendent of the institution, Dr. Thornton, stood in front of the canon and stated, "are you Englishmen or only Goths and Vandals?  This is the United States Patent Office, the repository of the ingenuity of the American nation in which the whole world is interested.  Would you destroy it?  If you must, then let the shot pass through my body" the British soldiers held down their heads and the officer ordered them and the gun away, to his credit.  An 1836 fire completely annihilated the patent office and the first miniature Enfield Plough.  Fortunately, the second miniature plough remained in Enfield and is on display in my museum.  If you haven't noticed, I am a little possessive. Any time the 3rd meetinghouse is mentioned I precede it with "my." So sue me.

Anyway, the museum staff recently discovered that the Horace Pease blacksmith shop, where the Enfield Plough was made, still stands just south of Hartley's, now Tony's, store.  The driveway that now goes to the building was originally the road leading to the river.  It was called Ferry Lane before 1815 and blacksmith lane after 1815.  It led to the ancient 1680-1700 King’s ferry landing off Parsons road.  --Then called a highway, the road was sold by the town in 1815.  Can anyone guess why?  It was sold because the first bridge across the Connecticut River in Connecticut (1808) was built within a stone’s throw north of the ferry.  This made the ferry and Ferry Lane obsolete.  It cost less to cross the river by bridge than it did to cross by ferry.

Another prominent man and his family lie in this direction.  In 1828 Orrin Thompson was responsible for creating the borough of Thompsonville.  For many years the borough became more important than the town it was in.  Even today you can occasionally find maps showing Thompsonville listed as the town’s name.  Orrin was responsible for the town of Enfield growing at a tremendous rate.  He opened the carpet mill using the Asnuntuck Brook for waterpower.  His son Henry Thompson later opened the stockingnet factory on Asnuntuck Street.  The son was even more successful than the father was.  The carpet mill in the village or borough of Thompsonville provided work for many hundreds of immigrant families including the Scots, Polish, Italian, French Canadians, Irish and Greeks.  Many of their descendents are still here.  How many of you are descended from immigrant families that came to work in Orrin’s mill?

Orrin was a very civic-minded man and in 1848 had the foresight to purchase my 3rd meetinghouse when the Congregational Church decided to build a new church.  He bought it for the town to be used as it's first town hall.  My building had a new beginning and it remains the most historically significant structure in the town and area.  Most everything important that happened in the village up to that time and beyond happened there.  It has now served the community for 227 years.  It continues to serve the town well as a museum and meeting hall.  How can anyone blame me for being outspoken and proud of my building? Don't answer that!

In 1832 William Dixon built the covered bridge across the Connecticut River.  It replaced the open toll bridge of 1808.  The first bridge was built several years before any other Connecticut town, including Hartford, had one.  Both the first and second bridges overlooked the ancient Enfield copper mine at the base of the bridge landing.  William Dixon's son James became a U. S. Senator and a good friend of Abraham Lincoln. 

Because the first bridge was not covered, it deteriorated quickly in the New England elements and collapsed - August 19,1821.  The new covered bridge was completed in 1832 and financed by a lottery.  The new bridge lasted until February 15, 1900, when it gave way in a freshet.  The bridge was only marginally used toward the end as a new steel bridge had been constructed in Thompsonville in 1893 to accommodate the immigrant families living in the "patch” in Suffield who worked and shopped in Thompsonville.  The toll taker of the covered bridge, Hosea Keach, was inspecting the bridge when a section he was in collapsed into the Connecticut River.  Hosea was in a bad way but resourceful enough to climb to the rafters and poke a hole through the bridge facing.  He then climbed onto the roof and yelled at the top of his lungs for help as the section of bridge he was on raced downstream.  Fortunately for Hosea, the old freight station directly across from the bridge was manned and a train had made a scheduled stop.  The railroad people heard Hosea's cries for help and steamed south.  They stopped the train on the trestle bridge ahead of the fast moving bridge section and just prior to the section passing under the trestle a rope was thrown to Hosea and he was pulled to safety.  A second later the covered bridge section disintegrated as it collided with the much stronger train trestle.  They say, timing is everything and I’m sure Hosea Keach would agree whole-heartedly.  Cecil B.  Demill should have been there.  Quick thinking saved the day. 

Enfield's earliest inhabitants, of course, were Native Americans.  The Dutchman Adriean Block came up the river in his American-made ship the Onrust in 1614 to what became Enfield's southern border.  He traded with the Podunk, Agawam and Poquonucks.  A few years later in the 1630' s a piece of what became Enfield and Suffield called Great Island by the Indians was owned by a Poquonock Indian maiden named Misnoaskus.  Her father, Coggerynosset, was a sachem or spiritual leader.  Her mother’s name was Cshabuck and her sister’s Quashabuck.  I only tell you these names to show you what a wonderful memory I have.  Not! Misnoascus sold the island to the Reverend Huit of Windsor Connecticut.  In the 1630's John Pynchon of Springfield, Massachusetts Bay Colony stated that it was against Connecticut law for an individual to purchase property from an Indian.  He also brought his argument to the Massachusetts court stating that it was illegal for a Connecticut person to purchase Massachusetts land, which Great Island (now King's Island) was at the time.  Pynchon won his case and the Massachusetts court presented him with the island for services rendered in this and other matters.  The island was then called Pynchon Island.  If you hadn't heard, the land, which became Enfield and Suffield in 1674 and 1680 was considered Massachusetts until we seceded in 1750 to join Connecticut.  The island changed names many times including Copper Island when copper was mined there.  The longest running names were Great Island by the Indians and King's Island by the English and Americans. 

John Pynchon, who is not buried here, built the first building in what later, became Enfield in 1674.  As stated earlier, the sawmill was destroyed the very next year in the King Phillip’s War by the Wampanoag Indian Metacom son of Massasoit.

Many of our early settlers knew John Pynchon well because they had to deal with him to get anything done.  He owned many businesses in the general area and a lot of property in Enfield and Suffield.  He controlled, to a great extent, what went on in the early settlement.  As you might imagine he was the subject of many discussions at my tavern even long after his death but in general he was thought well of. 

Well, that be all the time we have for this tour.  I trust we may again partake in the future, perhaps in the next year or two.  I’ll have to check my very busy social calender.  It is been a pleasure telling my tales and a wonderful chance to temporarily rid myself of that depressing rut I’ve been in.  If thee follow my drift!

Thou art now invited to my 3rd meetinghouse (thy Old Town Hall) for free cider and refreshments.  For those of thee not familiar with my fine volunteer museum staff, who presented this program tonight, be it known that they work very diligently and ask little for the trouble.  Remember the old expression "thou cannot take it with thee?"  Believe me, I desperately tried and could sneak not a farthing from my mortal mattress.  At this point, I wouldst give a king’s ransom for the mattress alone.  If thou wish to have more entertainment of this kind in the future, I prey thee give our staff a kind word of encouragement and perhaps an appropriate donation for this and future endeavors.  Thank thee for coming and have a fine evening, a good morrow and a wonderful and prosperous New Year.  Fare thee well and god bless thee, one and all. 

Your obedient servant,

Isaac Kibbe

Copyright 2002 by Robert L. Tanguay.  Used with permission.  All rights reserved.  This document may not be redistributed, in whole or in part, without permission.