263. Our Country One Hundred Years Ago. Let us now take a hasty glance backward for a century and note the vast changes that have taken place in the matter of daily living during this time. Very different was the country in which our forefathers lived from that with which we are familiar. To be sure, there was a fringe of villages along the coast from Maine to Georgia. Fifty miles back from the Atlantic the country was for the most part an unbroken wilderness.

A few hundred settlers, and perhaps a hundred log cabins, made up a village where now stands the great city of Cincinnati. Indians and buffaloes roamed over the rich plains of the West which to-day furnish grain for Europe. Only seven of the states then had well-defined boundaries. Thousands of the marvelous inventions and discoveries which have added so much to the comfort and convenience of life had at that time no existence.

264. Newspapers. Forty-three newspapers managed to survive the war of the Revolution. Even the best of these were mean-looking, and printed on poor paper. For the most part, they contained but four small pages, and were issued not oftener than two or three times a week. As to quantity of printed matter, they could not sustain comparison for one moment with the newspaper of our time.

There was no such thing as an editorial page. All kinds of queer advertisements there were; as, for runaway slaves or stolen horses: tedious letters appeared, written to the editor from distant points: treatises on geography and morals abounded instead of news. To fill out space, the editor would occasionally reprint some standard historical work or book of travels.

That material which gives the modern newspaper its peculiar value and is now known under the general name of “news” was unknown. There were few or no facilities for gathering facts as to the happenings of events or the doings of individuals, communities, and nations; and certainly no pains was taken to forward such material for publication.

265. The Postal Service and Letter-Writing. In the early colonial times there was no such thing as an official postal service. Up to the time of the Revolution there were certain means provided for carrying letters, but they were very meagre.

The postmen used to travel some thirty to fifty miles a day in good weather. Letters were sent from New York to Boston three times a week during summer, and twice a week in winter. Six days and even more were required to make the journey. One pair of saddlebags easily contained all the mail.

If such were the scanty mail accommodations of the chief cities, we can imagine what they were in the small country towns. Sacks of letters and papers are now easily carried in one afternoon farther than they were then transported in five weeks. After the war, Washington had an extensive and important correspondence with the influential men of the country. In many of his replies he complained of the tedious delay in receiving his mail. Well he might, for his letters were sometimes longer in going from Mount Vernon to Boston than they would now be in reaching China.

In remote sections the post-rider was often a decrepit man or some crippled soldier. One old postman used to improve his time, as his horse jogged slowly along, by knitting woolen mittens and stockings. There was no special protection to the service. Letters and packages were opened and freely read or examined by the carriers. So common was this evil that the great men of this time used to correspond in cipher.

We may be sure that when it cost much to send letters, and the difficulties of forwarding them were so many, the letter-writers of those days took special pains to write long epistles, full of news. People learned most of the news of the day from distant places, whether it pertained to politics, society, or gossip, through faithful correspondents.

Imagine a busy merchant in one of our great cities writing a business letter, but giving most of the space to the results of the last election, or the doings of the state legislature. The telegraph, the telephone, stenography, and the typewriter of our day have revolutionized business communication and much of personal correspondence.

266. The Stage Coaches. During the war of the Revolution, stages stopped running between distant cities, and horseback traveling was resumed. When peace was declared, the “coach and four” again took the road. Boston and New York were then the two great commercial centers of the country; yet during Washington’s first term two stages and twelve horses carried all the passengers by land between these two cities.

The stage coach at this time was not much better than a huge covered box mounted on springs. There were no closed sides, glass windows, steps, or doors. It was not to be compared for one moment with the far-famed Concord coaches in after years. In summer an ordinary day’s journey was forty miles, but in winter only about one-half of this distance.

The stage started early each morning often at three o’clock and its daily time limit was about ten at night. Often the passengers were forced to get out and help lift it out of the mud or a deep rut. If there were no unusual accidents or mishaps, it reached New York, from Boston, at the end of the sixth day. Even at this snail pace the good people used to wonder at the ease, as well as the speed, with which the journey was made.

It is no wonder, then, that a journey to any remote place became a serious matter. Prudent men, when ready to set out for a distant point, arranged their business affairs for any emergency, made their wills, and, after a formal dinner at the tavern, bade their family and neighbors a solemn farewell.

267. How Fires were put out. The law at this time compelled every man to take an active part in putting out fires. He was obliged to keep at least four leathern buckets hung up at some convenient place in his house or shop, with his name painted on them, together with a big canvas bag. When an alarm of fire was raised, either by vigorous shouts of “Fire! fire!” or the ringing of the church bell, the good citizen seized his fire buckets and his canvas bag, and, guided by the smoke or flame, started for the scene of action.

There were no idlers at an old-time fire. Some rushed into the building with their canvas bags and filled them with such movable goods as could be readily carried in them. A double line extending to the water was formed of men, boys, and even women. One line passed the full buckets to those who were nearest the fire, while the other line returned the empty vessels to the well or river.

Some of the larger towns boasted of a “fire engine.” This was merely a pump mounted over a tank, which the men kept full by pouring in water from the buckets. The rich householder was allowed to send his slave or servant to the fire with the fire buckets.

When the fire was out, the buckets were left in the road, to be picked up and carried home by their owners. Persons who neglected to keep their fire buckets in good order and in their proper places, or who failed to carry them home after the fire, were fined.

268. How Sunday was passed. The observance of Sunday began at sundown on Saturday. The early part of the evening was devoted to family worship, and shortly after eight o’clock all were in bed. No work except such as was really necessary was done on Sunday. Most of the cooking was done the day before. Each member of the family, unless sick in bed, went to church. The farmer traveled on horseback with his wife on the pillion behind.

The singers sat in the front gallery. The boys and young men had seats in the left-hand gallery, while that on the right was occupied by the young women. We have read in a previous chapter something about the tithing-man and his duties. The short noon interval was devoted to eating a cold lunch.

No meeting-house in those days was warmed. Old and feeble women were allowed to use tin foot-stoves, filled with a few hot coals. In the bitter cold months of a New England winter it was no trifling affair to endure the actual suffering that accompanied religious worship on Sunday. The story is told of a good minister in Connecticut who in the depths of winter prudently preached in overcoat and mittens, but complained that his voice was drowned by persons stamping and knocking their feet together to keep warm.

269. The Minister and the Meeting-Houses. The minister was always held in high esteem. He was usually the most important man of the village, and was looked upon with reverence not unmingled with awe. His authority was almost supreme. If a person spoke disrespectfully of him, or even laughed at his oddities, the offender was heavily fined. The advice of the minister was often asked, and sometimes given unasked, on matters of business as well as of religion. Fearless and resolute in what they believed to be right, the influence of the ministers of that time in public affairs was deservedly very great.

The minister’s salary was but a pittance. It was never the same two years in succession, and was rarely paid in cash. Donations of corn, beans, turnips, and other farm products were usually given in place of hard money.

The sermon was the one event of the week. Every well person in the village turned out to hear it. Copious notes were taken, and its various points furnished topics for fireside discussion during the week.

270. How the Doctors healed the Sick. The village doctor, together with the minister and schoolmaster, held a high social rank. There were only two medical colleges in the country, and these were not well attended. Medical books were scarce and costly. Even the best doctors could not boast of a medical library of fifty volumes.

The future doctor served his time as a student with some well-known physician. He ground the powders, mixed the potions, rolled the pills, cleaned the bottles, tended the night bell, and otherwise made himself useful. If the young student had a good preceptor and was gifted with a keen observation and a retentive memory, he returned to his native town or went elsewhere fairly prepared to begin practice.

There were no drug stores in those days, and each doctor was his own apothecary. He ground his own drugs, made his own tinctures, salves, and plasters. Most of the medical preparations used then would not be tolerated to-day.

Then as now the country doctor used to ride night and day, year after year, whatever the weather or the condition of the roads, to attend the good people of his neighborhood. He received, as he richly deserved, the respect and affection of his patients for his life of hardship and self-denial.

271. How the Schoolmaster taught School. Besides the doctor, minister, and lawyer, the village schoolmaster was socially and otherwise an important man. He was usually a student who was “working his way” through college, and who sought, by teaching winters and working on a farm in summer, to defray his expenses at Yale, Dartmouth, or Harvard.

In many of the school districts he was expected to “board round.” That is, he lived with the parents of his pupils, regulating his stay according to the number of the children of the family who attended school.

In those days there were large families and many children, and the young schoolmaster was a welcome guest. The best room in the house, the warmest corner by the fireplace, and the choicest food were reserved for him. During the long winter evenings he discussed theology and politics with the fathers, played games with the children, and escorted the girls to “spelling matches” and “quilting bees.”

272. The Everyday Home Life. Such conveniences and comforts as are now found in almost every home were then unknown. Cooking stoves, matches, refined sugar, sewing machines, and kerosene oil had never been heard of. The mechanic’s home had no carpets on the floor, no pictures on the walls, no coal in the cellar, no water faucets in the kitchen. Fruits and vegetables, now so cheap in their season, such as tomatoes, oranges, bananas, celery, and dates, were either quite unknown or beyond the reach of scanty means.

The farmers of a century ago ate plain food and wore plain clothes. Their daily fare was usually salt fish, salt pork, beef, a few vegetables, and dried apples. The numerous farm implements, which have done so much to cheapen food and to bring thousands of acres into a state of high cultivation, were not yet invented.

The well-to-do farmer managed to pick up a great deal of general information and news of the day. He was noted for an inquiring turn of mind. He could tire out the weary visitor or stranger on the road with numberless questions on current social, political, or religious topics. At times he would unbend enough to play “fox and geese” with his children, or attend “apple bees” and corn huskings.