 A Real New England Girl by Anna I. Parsons 1. The Shower 2. Oxford County 3. The Stranger and the Girl 4. The Youth and the Girl 5. Pansy and Richard Go Trading 6. The Marvelous Storyteller 7. The Dinner 8. The The Minister Comes for Tea 9. Pansy's Father 10. Pansy and Her Mother 11. Poland Springs 12. The Birthday Cake 13. Ned Patterson Comes for a Visit 14. The Blue Berrying Party 15. The Beginning of Wisdom 16. The Tempted and the Penitent 17. The Concert 18. Stanley's Ride 19. The Bench by the Wayside 20. The Banker and the Widow 21. The Bag of Nuts 22. How They Kept Thanksgiving at Little Farm 23. Hardly a Merry Christimas 24. A Call Down and a Caller 25. The Pride of Mrs. Bradford 26. A Happy New Year 27. Amusement and Winter Sport 28. Kim 29. Richard, the Lion Hearted 30. A Tour of the White Mountains 31. Talking Over the Trip with Henry Bright 32. Thoughts That Lie Too Deep for Words 33. Economics 34. His Toast 35. The Busy Haunts of Man 36. Christmas in New York 37. The Last Night of Their Visit 38. The Language Understood by All 39. Sugaring Off 40. Correspondence 41. Commencement 42. Conclusion Afterward     |
by Jeffrey R. Parsons Editor's Note: A few years after I transcribed Aunt Annie's novel, I happened upon a yellowing newspaper clipping pasted into a scrapbook at the Norway Weary Club. This was an article by Anna I. Parsons, apparently published in the Paris Democrat sometime around 1940 (there is no date on the article, but my father and aunt told me several times that the Knight buildings burned at about that time). This article makes it clear that the "Henry Bright" referred to in Chapter XXXI ("Talking Over the Trip with Henry Bright") was modelled after a real-life character, Hudson Knight who, during the time of Annie's childhood and early adult years, lived on a neighboring farm. Both my father and aunt remembered Hudson as an elderly gentleman, and my father was particularly impressed as a child by the number of books and magazines at the Knight home, and by Hudson's calm demeanour, tolerant outlook, and stoic acceptance of what life brought. The text of Annie's newspaper article follows. THE ANCIENT KNIGHT HOMESTEAD AND THE FAMILY The old Hudson Knight place, destroyed by fire on May 1st, was probably as interesting a place as the town of Paris has within its territory. Hudson's father was Nathaniel Knight who married Martha Houghton and had three children, to wit: Hudson Knight, born July 31, 1834; Livonia Knight, born December 11, 1835; Horace Knight, born May 11, 1838. They all remained on the home far with their parents in District No. 1, and were brought up under their mother's rigid ideas of dress, which was that of the early 19th century. Hudson was a light hearted boy who loved to whistle. One day his mother told him she would give him fifty cents if he would not whistle for a week (hoping it would cure him of the habit). He kept his word not to whistle, but when at the end of the week, his mother gave him the fifty cents, he took it gratefully and went away whistling. He was a soldier in the Civil War and had many interesting stories to tell of his experiences. The best meal he had while in the arm, he said, was one day when he and another soldier were detailed to unload some molasses. On completing the work, they filled their army canteens with the syrup and went off by themselves and had a square meal of hardtack and molasses. He was fond of horses and at the time of his enlistment in the army, he had a pet colt that he very much regretted leaving behind him. On his return from the war, however, as he stepped into the barn, while talking to his father and brother, the colt recognized his voice and whinnied for him. His courtship of Ellen Woodbury, daughter of the old sea captain who lived in a cabin in the pines on the East Oxford Road, but who at this particular time, was living at a place that had been the Joel Robinson farm, was frequently referred to in our neighborhood. He had gone to spend the evening with Ellen, and his mother, becoming worried over his long absence, sent her youngest son, Horace, to seek him. Horace entered the Woodbury home, found the room in which the two were sitting, and abruptly announced, 'Hud, marm wants you to come home.' With considerable sentiment, Hudson countered, 'I'll be home when I get ready!' Whereupon Horace, without being asked, sat himself down and exclaimed, 'By gorri, I shan't go 'til you do!' That ended Hudson's dalliance with Ellen. Afterward, her parents separated, and Ellen moved with her mother from the neighborhood. I often saw Hudson passing our house, wearing his army overcoat of cadet blue, and knew he was on his way to visit the farm he had bought just beyond that of Ellen's father's place. He always appeared cheerful and happy and the wrecking of his romance, as far as I could infer, never affected his disposition. But I was going to describe the Knight buildings as I saw them as a little girl: Two one and a half story houses had been pushed together, so that one overlapped the other some eight feet and a door was cut through so that there was access from one house to the other. There was an outside entrance to each house. Then, as you travelled westward from the main house, you passed the pump house and near that was a corn-crib, a small, round building that stood on a pedestal some three or four feet from the ground and a woodshed on the opposite side of the path. The cattle barn was a little farther west from these. Perhaps there were two barns near together. I remember being taken into a place one day where there was fruit and being given some very good Winesap apples. I was also taken into the cattle barn once by Horace, whose hobby was raising fat oxen, and he showed me a pair of oxen that looked as if they might burst their skins from overeating. I have forgotten what their girth was, but I do remember that Horace took it with a small sized chain that he drew around one of them just in back of the animal's front legs. Another building that stood out rather prominently was a small one, some two hundred feet east of the house, and I was told it was for the purpose of making shoes for the family. In going about with my parents, I often saw similar small houses near farm buildings. Apparently the work of keeping a family shod required a one room house where a bench with lasts, awls, leather, linen thread, was, binding, etc. could be readily found. I never was inside of one of these houses and never saw shoes made at home. Back of the protected corner where the two houses were joined, there was a shelter for beehives. Perhaps they had a half dozen hives there in my young day. When the father of the family, Mr. Nathaniel Knight died, I was three and a half years old and recall mother saying that Horace, in keeping with an old superstition, had draped the hives so that the bees would not fly away. These are all the buildings I can now recall that were included with the home group. They were all unpainted and perhaps not in very good repair; but on this Knight family called the most distinguished visitors to our town. People returning home from the far west always called at least once at their place. Livonia was a most dutiful daughter and always dressed in clothing made as her mother dictated, until after her death. Then I remember she surprised us one day. We had visitors from Norway at the farm - two Millett cousins and a Miss Cummings, who was studying elocution in Boston at the time. We were having a real jolly time when Livonia came in. She had on a one-piece, ready-made dress and a white leghorn hat trimmed with a dark band with streamers and a bunch of blue violets at one side. Mrs. Bennett, the milliner at South Paris village, had made it for her and it was really becoming to the face that was old and wizened up before she ever knew the feel of stylish headgear. She died a few years after that of cancer of the breast. It has always been a mystery to me why one who lived so wholesome a life should died of this painful disease. Horace preceded her, dying of softening of the brain. Hudson, at last being free from all entangling alliances, married his cousin, Ina Houghton, and had four years of happy married life with her. When she died, he bought a house in the village, and thereafter, married his housekeeper, Lila Andrews. She was a most faithful wife to him. I used to call on Hudson every summer when I was home on vacation. The last time I called, he was then very old, but active, and said to me as he stood at the door at parting, 'Anna, if I am alive when you come next year, come and see me.' He died that winter, aged ninety-three. When the Widow Knight and her three children were all living at the farm, they took seventeen newspapers and magazines and were always posted on current events throughout the states. They were great lovers of flowers and had many kinds planted in the nooks and corners about their rambling dwelling. Whenever I went there in the summer season, I came away with my hands filled with rosemary, southernwood, camomile, and a great variety of blossoms. These dear neighbors have all gone to their eternal home; there are no descendants to represent them, and, now the old farm buildings that seemed so much a part of them, are no more. I find my eyes filling with tears as I close this article, for something has gone from old District No. 1, that can never be restored. ---- Anna I. Parsons |