Journal of Richard Austin Rice, 1878 - 1887

1879

January 10. College is again in session. I have the Juniors in German and the Freshmen in Latin, beginning with the Germania of Tacitus.

Dr. Thayer was invited by a friend to join him in a journey around the world. He left his practice with a professor in the Medical College and will not be at home again before the end of the summer.

The Quarter Century Club is still in abeyance, so that our Monday evenings with Ware and Dante's "Paradise" are undisturbed. He comes over to dinner and this makes a festive occasion for all to which we look forward with keen pleasure every week.

January 29. Dick is a year old today. We elders, Smyth, Ware, and Miss Loomis included celebrate the occasion in his behalf.

February 20. Owing to Dr. Thayer's absence Marion returned to her use of so-called specifics and called in an ignorant homeopathic practitioner to attend Dick during a slight illness. He nearly killed him with a poison, the dose being several times as strong as it should have been. Fortunately, we were able to give him an antidote before it was too late, but his digestive apparatus is seriously impaired in consequence of this folly. It ends homeopathy for the present, at least in this family.

March 26. The winter term in college just ended has been an unusually satisfactory period. The students in my classes have worked well, especially in German and in Roman History. With Ware I finished the "Paradise" and we are now reading Moliere's plays.

July 15. I have been in New Haven for a few days but was unable to persuade Father and Mother to visit us this summer. Jim and Sallie are with us again.

August 2. A four days stay at Stowe, Vermont. I did not find the air so very bracing, but the pernicious south wind which is so trying in Burlington is not felt there.

August 4. My walk in Tivoe in 1871 has been recalled most vividly while reading "Gaddings with a Primitive People" by W. H. Baillie Gorham. Received from London a copy of William Dunbar's poems in red morocco. Ned Rawson and I had read them together in the winter of 1869 - 70 and we looked for copies in book shops since, occasionally. I have sent him a skit of a few verses to announce my success in the quest.

The afternoon at Appleton Point with little Dick, who was delighted with the woods and the shore. I skipped stones on the water for his amusement.

August 10. Ned Rawson has arrived as usual without his luggage. As I can supply all his needs till it turns up he does not worry, but all his experiences of a like sort in Europe fail to convince him of the necessity or advantage of looking after it on a journey. He is so easy-going, so full of story and quaint talk that his visit with or without his belongings is always a satisfaction. His attitude is never critical, he invariably appears contented with the conditions in which he finds himself, and this makes entertaining him easy and natural. We never welcome the day when he has to go.

August 31. Smyth returned three days since. Yesterday we undertook the excursion we had often talked of - a walk around the base of Mount Mansfield. We hired a horse and buggy and drove seventeen miles to a farmhouse near Underhill Center where we left them with a farmer. He gave us some directions for the walk and we began to climb the slope towards the north. We had brought a luncheon, and as we had breakfasted soon after six o'clock we were quite ready to stop just before noon and rid ourselves of the necessity of carrying any parcels. The path we followed was not very clear and on reaching the top of a southeastern spur of the mountain late in the afternoon we were enveloped in a dense mist, and as the trail was entirely overgrown with grass and bushes we lost it altogether. After hunting for it in vain for nearly an hour we struck through the forest directly south toward a road coming up to that end of the mountain from Stowe. It was a rough scramble over rocks and trees. We came out near a small house not far from the road. We asked for something to eat, but could get nothing, and were told that we might possibly get food at a house a few miles farther on at the entrance to the trail to Underhill Center. On our arrival at this spot the house proved to be a one room cabin in which were a woman and a young child. She had no food in the house except a few crackers. I tried one but could not swallow it. Smyth refused to taste it, and a drink of water was the only entertainment left. She was possibly a little frightened by the appearance of two men at such an hour, for it was already dark. However, we met her husband at the edge of the forest who was coming home with a rabbit and some birds for their supper and Sunday meals. He told us the trail to the highroad was four miles, half of the way through dense woods, then across a swamp over which a corduroy road had been laid. Here we were to be careful to keep on the tree-trunks for if we should step off we would go into the mire and water over our heads. In the forest, too, we must be on the lookout for bears that might be coming down to the brook to drink. As he could not be saying these things in order to induce us to stop with him over the night, we took the information for what it might be worth. Once within the forest it was so dark I could not see my hand. The night was very cloudy and as Smyth was quite unused to traveling dense woods at night I had to lead the way. Occasionally we came to a slight clearing where it was possible to see a few steps ahead. In such a spot the path forked and Smyth insisted that we ought to take the right hand trail. I felt sure we should keep near the brook that was on our left hand if we were to reach the swamp of which we had been told, but to allay his fears I struck into the right hand path that proved to be a mere timber trail, and soon came to an end. We turned back, and had some difficulty in finding the fork, but the brook helped me, and we went on again in the path by its side. The path was so rough I more than once fell headlong, and most of the way I could only know I was in it by the feel of it under my feet. A tree or stump was a blacker darkness. If it projected in the way, it might be a bear. At last we came to the corduroy road. I fell once on this and plunged my arm into the mire up to my shoulder. We crossed the swamp safely and after a while came into an open field in which was a small hut, evidently to store hay for cattle. It was securely locked and we went on. The path had now disappeared entirely and we soon came to a rail fence that we climbed. As we were sitting on it we could see the lights of a village in the distance, two or three miles away apparently. Not knowing what might be between us and it, we were settling our minds to the prospect of sitting there the rest of the night when I spied a single light off on my right hand. It seemed to be not more than a mile away and I said, "If you will follow, I will go for that light. It is steady, and must be a house." It was now after nine o'clock and the light might be put out at any moment, but we started toward it. I had not gone far when I walked over the edge of a cliff, landing in some brush at the bottom. I was not hurt seriously, only scratched and shaken up. Fortunately, Smyth was a little distance behind me, so that I was able to stop him by a shout. If he had fallen on me the consequences might have been worse. I told him to get down on his hands and knees and try to find a way around the cliff, which he did. At that level, we had lost the light, but climbing a small tree I found it again, and we once more set out to reach it. Several times, as a tree got in the way, I thought it was out and we should have to stay where we were till morning. Finally we came to a road, on the other side of which stood the house. It was again a one room cabin. A man was busy making small butter firkins and his wife was getting ready for bed. They had no food to spare and could give us only a drink of water, but with the word that the road led directly to the village, that was not more than three miles away, we felt that our troubles were ended. When we reached the farmhouse of my acquaintance there was no one at home, but I climbed in at a window and we soon had a fire started in the kitchen, coffee brewing, eggs sizzling, bread, butter, cream, and cake on the table in quantity sufficient to stifle a ten-hours' hunger. Before we had finished the repast the family came in. They had given up all expectation of our return, thinking we must have gone to Stowe for the night, and were visiting a neighbor. When we told them what we had done since eight o'clock, they were somewhat incredulous and said that it would have been better if we had gone to Stowe. They had but one room to offer us. Smyth slept well, but he snored so that my slumber was interrupted. This morning we came home in the rain, arriving just as our acquaintances on the hill were on their way to church.

September 4. Dr. Thayer is at home. He dined with us the day after his arrival. There is general rejoicing in the community over his safe return. What stories he will have to tell. The prospect ought to galvanize the Quarter Century Club, but the fact is that it is not made up of clubbable men. Most of them are too domestic, few smoke, and all seem too busy with their professional occupations to write an entertaining paper.

Lawyer Burnap has built a small house on Main Street opposite Madam Wheeler's place. I hope to see him oftener now.

September 7. Yesterday Smyth and I had our breakfast soon after six o'clock and went by the seven o'clock train to Waterbury. From this point on the Onion or Winooski river we climbed to the summit of Camel's Hump. We took no luncheon with us as we had been told there was a good hotel near the top, but when we reached the location charred ruins showed a recent fire. The sight made the pangs of hunger keener, but we made the most of the feast the view presented. It was very extensive in all directions, much finer than from the top of Mansfield which I visited while at Stowe. I spent one night there and saw the sunrise. A newly married pair were among the few guests and the bride came to breakfast quite decked out with jewels. That attracted more attention than her not over-pretty face. On a plank outside the hotel were a number of hedgehog quills. Some had penetrated the plank, without the aid of a gimlet, we were duly assured. No such incidents enlivened the spectactle on Camel's Hump and after enjoying it for more than an hour we wandered down the mountainside expecting to take a train between four and five o'clock to Burlington. On the way we stopped at a little house and asked for food. The woman, who had come to the door attended by three small children, said she had nothing ready but she was baking bread and if we could stop until it was done we might have a loaf. We sat down in the sunshine outside and amused the children until she brought out the loaf with a knife. I cut off one end and the inside flowed out. It did not seem profitable to await further developments, and taking a few pieces of the crust in our hands we strolled on toward the railroad. Arriving at the station, we were informed that the train then scheduled was an express and stopped only to leave passengers from Montpelier or parts further south. We waited, nursing our hopes, but having none to leave it whizzed by, and we went into the village to appease our appetite at the hotel. Here we had to wait until the usual supper hour arrived, and then we fell to. The supper was the usual New England farmhouse "tea" - bread and butter, cake and preserves, washed down with a brew that had lost its flavor between China and the kitchen. But there is always one solace and this we carried in our pockets - pipe and tobacco - how often they dull the edge of disappointment. We still had an hour to while away before the accomodation train would arrive, that eventually brought us home about nine o'clock. In retrospect the only fact worth remembering of this fifteen hour day is the view from the mountaintop, but I dare say the sight of the interior of that loaf of bread will have fixed itself just as definitely among the molecules of memory as the broad expanse of earth and sky.

September 10. We have at last a tenant in the kennel, a black puppy said to be a mixture of Newfoundland and St. Bernard strains, a handsome animal and very playful. We have named him Fritz. Smyth has now a game with Dickie, getting down on all fours and calling himself Uncle Bow-Wow, barking like Fritz. This Dickie enjoys hugely. Another game amused him always when he was learning to walk. Smyth marked one shoe with chalk and tried to make him follow the order, "chalk foot, right foot." Dickie caught on to it very quickly and was very proud when he made no mistake, for then some reward ensued. He is much pleased with the puppy, but it will take some training before he can be allowed to come into the house.

September 30. Our longest walks are confined to Saturdays when we both, Smyth and I, have no class room work. On these days we can, as in the excursions to Mt. Mansfield and Camels Hump, get off to quite a distance from home. The valleys of the Winooski and Lamoille rivers abound in romantic scenery, and there is now little within a radius of many miles that we have not explored with great enjoyment. The autumn is the one season for walking in this region. In the spring the roads are often impassible from mud.

A year ago last spring I was driving with Dr. Thayer a few miles into the country and the horse was over his fetlocks in the mud. We often came upon a springy stretch of road, the surface of which was as elastic as rubber with frequent holes out of which the mud would spout like a geyser as we passed over them. "These are the most dangerous spots," said the doctor. "If the horse should break through, it would be very difficult to get him out."

October 3. Dickie's great delight is to go into the garden with me and pick up apples. If he sees me put on my hat he says: "Baby goggan (garden) apple," and of course I take him along.

October 4. Was asked a few days ago to meet a group of young women, not college students, and give them a repetition of my course in Livy four times a week just as I am giving it to the freshmen, but I had to decline the invitation as it might induce complications with other departments in the college.

October 22. Presents for my birthday from May, Ware, Ned, and Sallie.

December 20. New York City. Sallie had invited us to pass the vacation with her, and here we are with nurse and baby. Drivel in the print shops as usual. Keppel showed me one of the first five impressions from Müller's plate of the Sistine Madonna. Müller, he said, had worked twelve years on it, and took one of these to the dealer Arnold, who said the lines must be deepened as otherwise the plate would not produce enough impressions to return the cost of the labor. This broke Müller's heart, and he died as it was finished.

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Footnotes:

Clicking on the "Back" after each footnote will take you back where you were on the page. (unless you click on the wrong "Back"!!)

1. Top
2. Richard died of stomach cancer in the 1950's. Could it have been caused by this? | Back
3. Thayer could have been Samuel W. Thayer, MD, or Charles Paine Thayer, also in the College of Medicine, according to Sylvia Bugbee at the UVM archives. | Back