https://www.omekaclassic4.nhlibraries.org/files/original/b9b91597d853a73255eb1de54004a524.pdf 6187a8a1f6f084ebf46fc9152a6f62b0 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The New Hampshire Troubadour Subject The topic of the resource Troubadour Description An account of the resource The New Hampshire Troubadour was a publication of the State of New Hampshire's State Planning and Development Commission in Concord, NH from 1931-1950s. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource The State of New Hampshire Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available The State of New Hampshire Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1930s-1950s Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource NHSL Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource State of New Hampshire Troubadour PDF files of the Troubadour OCR OCR of the Troubadour New Hampshire Troubadour COMES TO YOU EVERY MONTH SINGING THE PRAISES OF NEW HAMPSHIRE, A STATE WHOSE BEAUTY AND OPPORTUNITIES SHOULD TEMPT YOU TO COME AND SHARE THOSE GOOD THINGS THAT MAKE LIFE HERE SO DELIGHTFUL. IT IS SENT TO YOU BY THE STATE PLANNING AND DEVELOPMENT COMMISSION AT CONCORD, NEW HAMPSHIRE. FIFTY CENTS A YEAR ANDREW M. HEATH, Editor volume xvii October, 1947 number 7 MOUNTAINS OF MANY COLORS t>u prattle <jC. j-^errin in the Christian Science Monitor In this Yankee mountain country there still remain abundant traces of the farm and household appliances used by the grandparents and great-grandparents of those of us who admit our own unmistakable membership in those kindred ranks. But apart entirely from this are the practically modernized farms and homes, and modernized schools, churches, and hotels. The prospecting stranger takes his choice. There is a sincere but noneffusive welcome wherever he may go. And there is beauty everywhere. We caught the picture of the meandering ranges, all bathed in their abundance of changing foliage and shifting lights, a day before the first snow flurry that bade goodby to September and welcomed ripe October. The frost had struck the pumpkins and the fodder was in the shock, as Riley would have it at just that time of year. Those were some of the open and obvious signs that our possibly remote New England cousins were making preliminary prepara-tions for an early winter. Such preparedness means, where the farm or village buildings, houses and barns, are not modern, that cellars and stables must be “banked” with leaves and straw, that the remnants of garden and field crops must be harvested, and the last of the apples must be put away from frost and snow. The repatriated Yankee, reared on the level prairie lands of the Middle West, inherits, perhaps, some of the affection of his forebears for this rugged and picturesque mountain country. He may see — or think that he sees — in the grand panorama so lavishly displayed, a crude reincarnation of villages, homes, schools, and churches, somehow made faintly familiar as things and places around which the neighbors and forelx*ars moved and toiled and found their measure of happiness and contentment. It is grand when the years bring with them pleasant and enriching memories. The people of many countries and many races have them, it is true, but to each of us, if we are fortunate, our own seem Portion of the Village of H ilton WINSTON POTEbest and richest. Early New England, crude in its outward habiliments and setting, but enriched by an individualistic culture nourished in homes, in schools and colleges, and in religious conviction, seems to have bequeathed to us all something that was, and is, peculiarly its own. The sympathetic seeker who travels casually along the winding highways which skirt the towering mountains, lingering beside some deep blue lake or hurrying trout stream, feels the influence, if not the presence, of a guiding and directing presence. There, in the granite hills, thoughts are of peace, not of wars and strife. There one might wish that those who seek surcease from fear, from worry, from vain contentions, might come. It is upon such foundations as the enduring rock, and in such a setting as the everlasting hills, that the temples of peace are builded. NEW HAMPSHIRE’S FAVORITE GAME BIRD Inj J/oh n The ruffed grouse, commonly called partridge in New Hampshire, mystery bird of the brilliant autumn thickets, whose plummeting flight challenges the aim of the most skillful hunter, is the favorite game bird of Granite State sportsmen. The thunder of its wings startles the novice, and its habits are a matter of great talk and speculation among experienced hunters. “Grouse,” they conclude, “are where you find them.”Its numbers seem to increase or decrease in mysterious cycles with little relation to hunting pressure, except that during years of scarcity the sportsman is wise to curtail his hunting in order to protect brood stock. In 1945, after hunting had been light for the previous two or three years, grouse were noticeably scarce. In 1946 they showed an increase, and it is expected that the 1947 season, which begins October 1, will find the “pa'tridge” population well on the upward swing of an abundance cycle. Favorite autumn foods of the grouse, notably wild apples, are plentiful this year. New Hampshire is fortunate in having some of the finest ruffed grouse covers in the East, and the prize habitat of all is the abandoned farm where a clump of lilacs hides an old cellar hole, and nearby apple trees have reverted to cider apple status. There are also shaded corners where two stone walls come together where the birds retire in mid-day to preen themselves lazily. But no matter how carefully these favored spots are approached there is too often a rumble of wings as the birds disappear like brown feathered rockets before a gun can be raised to the shoulder. There are “birdy” covers fringed by sumac and unkempt apple trees where the hunter walks with gun half raised, expecting grouse to hurtle out from under his feet. Sometimes these are empty. Later on, when he relaxes to light a contemplative pipe, they burst with startling thunder from a bush not ten feet behind him. Such is the uncertainty of hunting that adds to its appeal. A grouse in the pocket is of minor importance. The main appeal of hunting is to be part of the glorious autumn landscape, free to explore whatever thicket or patch of cover strikes the fancy. Ethically, the hunter is not permitted to shoot birds while they arc on the ground, although too often a silhouette on a stone wall or a flitting shape in a thicket is all he sees of the grouse before it takes off from behind a spruce or pine where a shot is impossible. To the hunter who has fallen under the spell of the ruffed grouse, the noble bird is the symbol of all the mystery and beauty of au-tumn. Its sleek, mottled plumage is more beautiful than the peacock, its sagacity is greater than that of the fox, and its thundering flight is matched by no other bird. Those who have been privileged to seek him in the covers of New Hampshire, whether with the aid of a dog or by “walking them up,” are filled with a sense of gratitude and respect for this king of game birds. The favored haunts of the grouse become shrines to be visited each autumn when leaves are red and the air as invigorating as wine. If the birds outwit the hunter in one cover, there is always another spot up the valley where the leaves arc dropping in the thickets or riding on the dark water of a little brook. If there is a bulge in the game pocket when sunset fades above the mountain ranges in the west as he takes the road back toward the lights of town, the sportsman is humble and content. To bring home the ruffed grouse is no small honor. But the greatest treasure is a store of memories of hillsides aflame with autumn colors, of valleys steeped in solitude, of silent ridges brushed by clouds. For autumn is a season that enters the blood. A Country Auction at AntrimThe Oldest House in Hollis THE HERMIT OF HOLLIS L, Paul W. JCt ieier On my study wall hangs an interesting old broadside, “sold wholesale and retail by Leonard Deming, No. 61 Hanover street, Boston, and at Middlebury, Vt.” It is entitled “Major’s OnlySon.” At each corner of the elaborate flowery border is an angelic countenance. The author and hero of the lengthy poem and his small house are pictured above a brief explanatory paragraph at the head of the verses. For some years I have been interested in searching for the story of this broadside. A stranger, so the story goes, apj>eared at Hollis, New Hampshire, soon after the Revolution, giving the name of John Jones. He let it be known that he came from a good family and that his father, a major in the British army, possessed independent means. While eccentric, both in manner and dress — he wore when he appeared in public a broad brimmed hat draped with a mourning weed and a long plaid dressing gown — he endeared himself to the people of the community with his whimsical wit and ready repartee, and was received with cordial welcome in any home. Frequently he was asked to join in the family meal, when he could be depended upon to offer grace in some impromptu manner. He made it a habit to be in Amherst, the county seat, when the courts were in session there and the lawyers found much amusement in his company. Once, on the occasion of a dinner to the judges, he was placed at the second table. He regarded this as an indignity, and was not pleased with the food remaining from the first table; so, instead of giving thanks in his usual manner, at the end of the repast he delivered these lines, which many New Hampshire children have heard in later years: “Cursed be the owls That picked these fowls, And left the bones For Doctor Jones.” How did he come to be known as “Doctor” Jones? He purchased a four-acre plot on Mooar’s Hill, in the northern part of Hollis, and built a small house, which he named “Lone Cottage,” where he dwelt in solitude. He is credited with being the first person to introduce grafted fruit into Hollis. I le set out an orchard of choice varieties and tended it with care. He cultivated fruits, herbs, and flowers. He supported himself by preparing medicinal herbs, from his garden and from the woods. He mixed various nostrums and peddled them in Hollis and vicinity. He would carry two baskets, one bearing the name of “Charity,” and the other that of “Pity.” Besides his herbs and medicines, the baskets also contained such things as “Liberty tea,” juniper berries when in season, and scions for grafting. He also sold copies of verses of his own composition, particularly the ballad “The Major’s Only Son,” composed before his arrival in Hollis. In this 150 line ballad he recites the story of his own life. Briefly, he fell in love at the age of 18 with his “true love.” But she was “of low degree, and came of a poor family.” His wealthy parents tried in every way possible to break up the match. At 20 “he'd a call at Rochester, to preach, ARTHUR ALLEN PETERSON Pulpit Rock, Rye, on Route I-A, after a nor'easter And there the gospel he did teach. They set by him exceeding high, And settled him in the ministry.” But his parents continued in opposition to the match. Finally the girl’s father:“— unto him did say, Kind sir, for ever stay away; My daughter is as good as you, For ever bid my house adieu; Your parents never will be still, For thus they have set up their will.” The maiden pined away into an early grave, leaving to her lover precious memories, and also “Her rings from her fingers she did take, Saying, always keep them for my sake, And cvcrytimc these rings you sec, Remember that I died for thee.” The young man left the ministry and wandered about thereafter until he settled at Hollis, his mind affected by the tragedy. Many times he was said to have been heard singing the verses of this ballad as he puttered about his lonely house. In those days, too, it was a favorite song with the young people in that vicinity. Many anecdotes have been related about Doctor Jones. One thing, it seems, he would not do — tell his age. He always avoided the question with some whimsicality. A lady customer of uncertain years, when buying some tea of him, made an attempt to discover when he was born. In reply he told her that she might ask him as many questions on the subject as she was years old. The woman was so nettled that she called him “an old cracked fiddle of one doleful tunc,” and demanded that he take back his tea and return her money. The Doctor thereupon made use of his ready rhyming faculty and, without a moment's hesitation, said: “Phebc, my dear, my own sweet honey. You’ve got your tea and I’ve got my money.”Having been educated for the ministry, Doctor Jones enjoyed attending the meetings of the Hollis Association of Ministers, a noted organization in those days. Sometimes he would propose questions for discussion. One of these is said to have been: “Was there ever a man that had a tongue which never told a lie, or a heart which never had an evil thought?” The question was decided unanimously in the negative, and the decision was backed up by quotations from Scripture. The Doctor declared that they were all wrong and he could prove it. He went out for one of his baskets, uncovered it, and showed them in triumph the head and heart of a sheep, exclaiming, “There is a tongue that never told a lie and a heart that never had an evil thought — and they are both mine.” Doctor Jones departed this life July 14, 1796. His gravestone had been ready for some years, prepared for the occasion by three young men whom he laughingly called his adopted sons. They belonged to families residing in the part of town where he had settled, and he associated with them more intimately than with other persons, and remembered them in his will. One young man was bequeathed the rings left to the Doctor by his “true love.” The stone, a large slab of slate, in the cemetery of the Hollis Congregational Church, was completed according to his directions, with the exception of a space left for the date of his demise. The epitaph was his own composition: “In youth he was a scholar bright, In learning hr took great delight. He was a Major’s only son, It was for love he was undone.”GUY SHOREY One of the earliest houses in Shelburne anti some adjoining farm land aptly illustrating Janies U'hitcttmb Riley's lines: "If hen the frost is on the pumpkin and the fodder's in the shock. Is you hoar the kyouck and the gobble of the strutting turkiy cock." Perhaps one should not love a land so well 7 hat leaving it can knot the heartstrings so, Can catch the throat, can cast a shadow spell Over the earth's bright splendor, l et / know My heart is desert that / shall not see October blowing flame across my world. Flaunting on each hill road her pagantry. Or days oj pouring wind when leaves are whirled Away, and the full arch oj heaven appears. And dark brooks hold the moon again, and high Over the gray, snow-hungry hills there veers A wedge of geese beneath an iron sky. From Equinox, A Poem of the Hanover Fall Season By Pennington Haile in the Dartmouth Alumni MagazineFront Cover: Church and autumn foliage at Auburn. Color photo by Guy Shorey. Back Cover: Mounts Pcquavvket and Cranmore and Swift River. Photo by Roger B. Corey. Frontispiece: Mounts Madison and Adams from Moose Brook State Park, Gorham. Photo by Guy Shorey. The New Hampshire Sportsman, an illustrated magazine concerned with hunting, fishing, and other outdoor sports, is being issued quarterly by New Hampshire Sports, Inc., 15 Temple Court, Manchester. The subscription price is one dollar per year. The purpose of the magazine, according to the editor, is — “To further the cause of amateur sports in general, to point out opportunities New Hampshire offers to sportsmen, and to bring to light ways in which the outdoor facilities of our state may be improved and enlarged — in short, to add to the sum total of happiness.” New Hampshire is honored by the election of James F. O’Neil of Manchester to the important post of national commander of the American Legion. Felton, Del., June 17. — A dozen chickens of the New Hampshire strain today was adjudged Delaware's best in the national “Chicken of Tomorrow” contest being held to develop a better meat type bird. A “One Hundred Years Ago” item reprinted about three months ago in the New York Herald Tribune: “Mr. Whitney, the projector of the Railroad to the Pacific Ocean, is at present in Concord, N. H., explaining to the Legislature the character of his scheme. As the Railroad is not intended to touch New Hampshire, it is highly probable that the Radicals of the State will endorse the enterprise with approving resolutions.” SANDWICH FAIR Frum the flower exhibit to the stage show to the merry-go-round to the fancy work to the live stock to the rassling tent they is suthing for every member uv the whole fam- bly to keep amused and interested and having fun and busy spending their hard earned munney. I like to watch the Sandwich Fair Parade. Nobuddy has everben able to figger out where the parade starts or when it starts or its route or where it ends. The Hon Parade Committee know and map it out awl lovely before hand and it starts O. K. Then things begin to get tangled up and before you know what has happened an allegorical float showing Peace and Plenty, Peace and Plenty being two oversized females in cheese cloth and green garlands, is awl mixed up in a bunch uv the horribles, two yokes uv oxen and the drum section of sum band. The frunt half of the band getting cut ofT by three anteek autos which go backfiring up the street whilst the brass section uv the band goes ta- da-da-da and the drums a hundred yards back is going rum, turn, turn, a rum, turn, turn. Hank NEW HAMPSHIRE BOOKS AND AUTHORS The Art of Hooked-Rugmaking, by Martha Batchelder of Hampton Falls, New Hampshire, was recently announced by The Manual Arts Press, Peoria, 111. On September 8 the T. Y. Crowell Company will publish Fair Were the Days, by Christine Whiting Parmenter of Concord. This is New Hampshire Troubadour the story of a New England family in the 90’s; and those who read Mrs. Parmenter’s A Golden Age, will recognize many of the characters in this new novel. ^yfOT From Wheeler’s History of Newport, New Hampshire, 1766-1878: Tradition says the first article of merchandise brought into town was a barrel of rum, individuals contributing what they were disposed to; but when it arrived, no one of their number had sufficient knowledge of figures to divide it equitably among the owners, so the matter was deferred until the arrival of Mrs. Christopher Newton, who was able to solve the problem. From Wheeler’s History of New- port, New Hampshire, 1766-1878: Mrs. Ebenezcr Merritt had a family of sixteen boarders. Her supplies consisted of the milk of one farrow cow, from which she made half a pound of butter per week; meal for porridge, and fish caught from the river. The boarders were all satisfied. RUMFORD PRESS CONCORD. N M,TO OCTOBER by 4nnie &a(com k WL.L Proudly you wore the mantle that September Surrendered to you when she went her way With banners flying. We shall long remember The beauty of that Indian Summer day: Rare mountain vistas! Streams full-voiced and foaming Down rock-strewn beds to calmer tides below. Then like a Godspeed to our twilit homing, Chocorua bathed in the afterglow! Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context 4677Troubadour194710 Title A name given to the resource The New Hampshire Troubadour October 1947 Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource New Hampshire State Planning and Development Commission Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1947-10 Description An account of the resource The New Hampshrie Troubadour was a monthly publication of the New Hampshire State Planning and Development Commission. The magazine was printed between 1931 and 1951. Language A language of the resource eng Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant New Hampshire Provenance A statement of any changes in ownership and custody of the resource since its creation that are significant for its authenticity, integrity, and interpretation. The statement may include a description of any changes successive custodians made to the resource. New Hampshire State Library Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource No Copyright - United States Subject The topic of the resource auction, Antrim, hunting, Pulpit Rock, Rye, Hollis, Mount Madison, Mount Adams, Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Antrim auction Hollis hunting Mount Adams Mount Madison Pulpit Rock Rye