At that time were prevalent, in rural neighborhoods, other recreations promotive of social hilarity to the highest degree. As a wintry evening drew on, the wide, deep fireplace—equalling in width nearly the whole of one side of the room, and so deep that benches were permanently attached to the jambs, on which two or more could comfortably sit—was duly prepared. A huge log, of a diameter equal to that of "the mast of some great admiral," six feet perhaps in length, was worked in by handspikes to its place as the "back-log;" a smaller one, as "back-stick," placed over it; the great andirons duly adjusted, and the wood piled on artistically—for there was an art in building a wood-fire. The kindlings were placed on top of the whole; never by an experienced hand below. More than the light of day, from dazzling chandeliers or the magic tongues of flaming gas-burners, blazes through the halls of modern luxury and splendor; but the lights and shadows from a glowing, old-fashioned, New-England country fireplace created a scene as enlivening, exhilarating, and genial as has ever been witnessed, and cannot be surpassed. Assembled neighbors in a single evening accomplished what would have been the work of a family for months. The corn and the nuts were all shelled; the young birch was stripped down in thin strands, and brooms enough made for a year's service in house and barn; and various other useful offices rendered. The sound of busy hands and nimble fingers was lost in commingling happy voices. Fun and jest, joy and love, ruled the hour. The whole affair was followed by "Blind-man's Buff" or some other sport. After the "old folks" had considerately retired, who knows but that the sons and daughters of Puritans sometimes wound up with a dance? There were sleigh-rides, and the woods rang with the happy laugh and jingling bells. The vehicles used on these occasions were, prior to 1700, more properly called "sleds." Our modern "sleigh" had not then been introduced. As the spring came on, logs would be hollowed or scooped out and placed near the feet of sugar maples, a slanting incision made a foot or two above them in the trunks of the trees, a slip of shingle inserted, and the delicious sap would trickle down into the troughs. When the proper time came, tents or booths made of evergreen boughs would be erected in the woods, great kettles hung over blazing fires, and a whole neighborhood camp out for several days and nights, until the work was accomplished, and the flavory syrup or solid cakes of sugar brought out.
These were some of the recreations of the country people in the early settlements of New England; continuing, perhaps, in frontier towns to this day. They constituted forms of enjoyment which cannot exist in cities or older communities; and possessed a charm, in the memory of all who ever participated in them, greater, far greater, than society in any later stage can possess.
The principal method of travelling in those days was on horseback. It afforded many special opportunities for social enjoyment. Women as well as men were trained to it. The people of the village were all at home in the saddle. The daughters of Joseph Putnam, sisters of Israel, were celebrated as equestrians. Tradition relates adventurous feats of theirs in this line, equal to that which constitutes a part of the history of their famous brother. There were, perhaps, several games of skill or chance practised more or less, even in those days, in this neighborhood. The only one that seems to have been openly allowed, of which we have any evidence, was shovel-board. This game, now supposed to be out of use, is referred to by Shakespeare, and was quite common in England as well as in this country. A board about two and a half feet wide and twenty feet long was placed three feet above the floor, somewhat like a billiard-table, though not with so wide a surface, precisely level and perfectly smooth, covered with a sprinkling of fine sand. It was provided with weights or balls, called "pieces," flattened on one end. The game consisted in shoving them as far as possible, without going over the end. A trough surrounded the table to catch the pieces if they fell. Richard Grant White, from whom this account of the game has been derived, says that "it required great accuracy of eye, and steadiness of hand, much more than ten-pins." He states that, when a boy, he saw it played by "brawny" men, in Brooklyn, N.Y., and that the pieces then used were of brass. It is probable that the "pieces" used on Bridget Bishop's shovel-board were made of some heavy wood, as they were thrown into the fire for the purpose of destroying them. The fact that a game like this was suffered to be openly played in Salem Village is quite remarkable, and shows that some license was left for such amusements.
The records and files of the local courts show, that, notwithstanding the austere gravity and strictness of manners and morals usually ascribed to our New-England ancestors, occasional irregularities occurred in the early settlements, which would be considered high misdemeanors in our day. The following deposition was given "on oath before the Court," Feb. 26, 1651. Edward Norris was the son of the minister of the First Church; had been for more than ten years, and continued to be for twenty years after, schoolmaster of the town; and, by his character as well as office, commanded the highest respect. John Kitchen, in 1655, was chosen "searcher and sealer of leather." Giles Corey had not yet purchased his farm, but lived on his town-lot, extending from Essex Street, near its western extremity, to the North River. They were severally persons of good estate.
"The Testimony of Giles Corey.—Mr. Edward Norris and I were going towards the brickkiln: John Kitchen, going with us, fell a nipping and pinching of us. And, when we came back again, John Kitchen struck up Mr. Edward Norris his heels and mine, and fell upon me, and catched me by the throat, and held me so long till he had almost stopped my breath. And I said unto John Kitchen, 'This is not good jesting.' And John Kitchen replied, 'This is nothing: I do owe you more than this of old: this is not half of that which you shall have afterwards.' After this, he went into his house, and he took stinking water and threw upon us, and took me and thrust me out of doors, and I went my ways. And John Kitchen followed me half-way up the lane, or thereabouts. Perceiving him to follow me, I went to go over the rails. He took me again, and threw me down off the rails, and fell a beating of me until I was all bloody. And, Thomas Bishop being present, I desired him to bear witness of what he saw. Upon my words, he let me rise. As soon as I was up, he fell a beating of me again.
"Testified on oath before the Court, 26th Feb., 1651.
"Henry Bartholomew, Clerk."
This was indeed an extraordinary outburst of lawless violence, and gives a singular insight of the state of society. Such an occurrence in our day would create astonishment. The organized power of the community to suppress vicious and rude passions was probably never brought to bear with greater rigidness than in our Puritan villages; but it did not fully accomplish its end. Behind and beneath the solemn and formal exterior, there was, after all, perhaps as much irregularity of life as now. The nature of man had not been subdued. The people had their quarrels and fights, and their frolics and merriments, in defiance of the restraints of authority. Violations of local and general laws were not infrequent; and flowed, as ever since, from intemperance, in as large a measure. Kitchen, in this instance, acted as if under the influence of liquor. His behavior, in tripping up the heels and throwing dirty water upon the person of the schoolmaster of the town, the dignity of whose social position is indicated by the title of "Mr.;" and in giving to Corey such a persistent and gratuitous pommelling,—bears the aspect of a drunken delirium. The latter seems not to have supposed, for some time, that he was in earnest, but to have looked upon his conduct as rough play, which was carried rather too far. Poor Corey was often getting before the town Court as accused or accuser. He was, to the end, the victim of ill-usage, either given or taken. Though not a bad-natured man, he was almost always in trouble. The tenor of his long life was as eccentric and unruly as the manner of his death was strange and horrible.
There was what may be called an institution in the rural parishes of the early times, still existing to some extent perhaps in country places, which must not be omitted in an enumeration of controlling influences. The people lived on farms, at some distance from each other, and almost all at great distances from the meeting-house. Local and parental authority, church discipline, public opinion, enforced attendance upon the regular religious services. Fashion, habit, and choice concurred in bringing all to meeting on the Lord's Day. It was impossible for many to return home during the intermission between the services of the forenoon and afternoon. The effect was, that the whole community were thrown and kept together every week for several hours, during which they could not avoid social intercourse. It was a more effective institution than the town-meeting; for it occurred oftener, and included women and children. In pleasant weather, they would perhaps gather together in knots at eligible places, or stroll off in companies to the shades of the neighboring woods. In bad weather, they would remain in the meeting-house, or congregate at Deacon Ingersoll's ordinary, or in the great rooms of his dwelling-house. As a whole, this practice must have produced important results upon the character of the people. In the absence of newspapers, or of much intercourse with remote places, the day was made the occasion for hearing and telling all the news. It provided for the circulation of ideas, good and bad. It widened the sphere of influence of the wiser and better sort, and gave opportunity for mischievous people to do much harm. It was a sort of central bazaar, open every week, where all the varieties of local gossip could be interchanged and circulated far and wide. Of the aggregate character of the effects thus produced, I do not propose to strike the balance. It was undoubtedly an effective instrumentality in moulding the population of the country, developing the elements of society, quickening and rendering more vigorous the action of the people in masses, and elucidating the phenomena of their history. It answers my purpose, at present, to suggest, that, if any popular delusion or fanaticism arose, the means of giving it a rapid diffusion, and of intensifying its power, were in this way provided.
In the early settlement of the country, the pursuit of game in the forests, rivers, and lakes, was necessary as a means of subsistence, and has always been important in that view. A war against beasts and birds of prey was also required to be incessantly kept up. The methods adopted for these ends were various and ingenious, often requiring courage and skill, and in most instances conducted in companies. Deer and moose were sometimes caged by surrounding them, or trapped; but the gun was chiefly relied upon in their pursuit. There were various methods for catching the smaller animals. One of the sports of boyhood was to spring the rabbits or hares. A sapling, or young tree, was bent down and fastened to a stick slid into notches cut in trees, on each side of the path of the animal. The rabbit is wont to race through the woods at great speed, and along established tracks, which, particularly after snow has fallen, are clearly traceable. To the cross-stick, thus placed above the path, one end of a strong horse-hair was tied. The other end was in a slip-knot, with a noose just large enough, and hanging at the height, to receive the head of the rabbit. Not seeing the noose, and rushing along the path, the rabbit would jerk the cross-stick out of the notches. The tree would bound back to its original upright direction, and the rabbit remain swinging aloft, until, at the break of day, the boys would rejoice in the success of their stratagem. Pigeons in clouds frequented the country in their seasons, and acres upon acres of the forests bowed beneath their weight. They were taken by nets, dozens at a time, or brought down in great numbers by shot-guns. The marshalled hosts of wild geese made their noisy flights over the land in the spring and fall, traversing a space spanning the continent north and south. They were brought down by the gun, on the wing, or surprised while resting in their long route or stopped by storms, around secluded ponds or swamps. Ducks and other aquatic birds were abundant on the rivers and marshes, and pursued in canoes along the bays and seashores. Salt-water fish were within reach in the neighboring ocean; while an unfailing supply of fresh-water fish was yielded by Wenham Lake, Wilkins's Pond, and the running streams.