Childhood Incidences

By Albert Murphy

The first incident that indelibly impressed my memory was sitting on Ann Michaels (Boon) lap and drinking milk from a bottle. The next was when "Pap" took me in his arms, and with Mother went to the cupboard for a lunch. I remember where the cupboard sat and his endearing words, "you are my duckesy pet;" which by frequent use later on in many cases brought sympathy and dried tears.

The next was when about three years old I ran away from home to go to Aunt Pruda’s and when near half way was picked up by Henry Robinson. I had not been missed from the house when he put me down from the horse.

And Pruda lived about ½ mile south of where Miles Murphy now lives; and the road from our house passed a little north of Powers on about a line through the woods.

My first money was a large copper cent given to my by Aunt Becca Lybrook. I remember her knit money purse, and how I prized that cent. My next gift of inestimable value was an old Indian hoe Aunt Pruda gave me. I remember how I ran about hunting for something to dig up. I kept it carefully for several years, and have often thought how I would prize it to have it again. Our playthings were few and mostly home made, but they filled the heart with satisfaction.

Wash days at the lake gave us highly prized outings; and all of us being "evolutionists" we took great interest in looking over the different sized tadpoles as they were "evolving" into babies. It appeared they got up to the other end of the lake before they really turned into babies; where old Granny Riggin would find them and give them around where they were most needed.

The first great grief I remember was when George Maddox persuaded me to run off and go home with him. I went about forty rods and decided it would be dangerous to go. So I turned to go back. But George put up enticing inducements and got me started on again. But I only went a short distance and stopped and began to cry. He then told me "a scolding don’t hurt, a whipping don’t last long, and to kill you they darsent." But I finally broke away and ran back crying; but none of the family at home knew what I had passed through.

Quite as strange that I do not remember when I got my face cut, as that I do when I drank milk from the bottle when perhaps only about half as old. I was told that Rast was swinging the ax trying to chop when I ran up behind him.

I now pass from these childish scenes to where as I thought I was nearly a man. I was now eight years old. John and Rast had the measles. I helped Pap saw the shingle blocks for the barn. He didn’t use flattering words but the hints he dropped occasionally left no doubt in my mind as being at least as good as the average man with the cross cut saw. We had corn in the field south of the house. The boys were not yet able to go into the field. So Pap told me if I would follow him while he used the shovel plow, and did a good job uncovering the little corn, he would buy me a new knife. That was the most wonderful business proposition that I had ever had up to this time. It took a long time for that corn to get big enough so that my services were not needed’ but the time came and I got the new knife. But the encouraging words of praise for sticking to it early and late, and for the good work done, I believe was worth many times the value of the knife.

Very early in life I was taken with a desire to be rich. I dug potatoes at one cent a bushel. I would cut down the wheat with the sickle and pound it out on the barn floor and sell it to Pap. I was so stingy it pained me to pay out a cent for a candy or anything else that would not add to my belongings. However, I loved Aunt Pruda so well that one time when I had pounded out a half bushel of wheat I told Pap I would put it in with his to give to her the next time he gave her a grist of wheat.

I found there was quite a good many hardships went with an effort to get rich. At one time when I had three cents coming to me for digging potatoes and it was so long before I could catch Pap with that amount of pennies, yet dunning him every time he would come home from town, that there was an effort made to prove that it had been paid long ago. I think Pap joined in the fun they were all having to hear me repeatedly argue my case.

My poem to the reunion several years ago tells how I had to sue John to collect the two cents he owed me. But I do not know if I criminated myself by telling how I lost my little red rooster, my only personal estate for violating law by going to bed with dirty feet.

On getting out of bed in the morning I discovered my dirty feet, but thought to rush out into the wet grass before being detected. But immediately on landing at the bottom of the stairs, Pap’s finger was pointing at my feet and all in the room into a hilarious laugh, and exulting over my having to pay the five cent fine. This of course made me powerfully mad, and I refused to abide by the law. This of course just suited them, as it led to the immediate sale of my rooster.

But to go back to where I helped to saw the shingle blocks. The tree was red oak about 2 ½ feet in diameter, tall and straight, and stood near the foot of the hill inside the bounds of the road a few rods from the N.E. corner of the first ten acre lot cleared on Mother’s land now owned by Snavelys.

Shortly after the tree had been removed Old Rees Rogers came one day when Pap was working near by. He was drunk and wanted to hear Pap play the fiddle, and had Pap play "Old Rose O Moore," and he got up on that stump and sang and danced to the tune. The wash from the road above had that stump buried out of sight over a half century ago.

While we are near about this field I might speak of another incident that happened there a few years later and would have been very interesting to many had it not been kept a secret. John was plowing corn with old Fan, and Rast and I were following up with hoes. The sun came out scorching hot, which gave the old sand bar greater attractions than the cornfield. So we tied old Fan, and Rast and I went for a dip. It appeared that time moves faster on water than on land, for it didn’t seem to take long for our arms, shoulders and backs to be blistered. We dare not make any fuss about it, so I being the smallest and least apt to be noticed would go into the pantry after dark and steal sweet cream and hand it out at the window. Then we would hide away and bathe each other’s blisters. No doubt if Pap had got in on the secret he would have discovered some urgent job that would have required boards or rails, carried on our shoulders. Even as it was it emphasized the truth that "the way of the transgressor is hard." I am truly glad that all my efforts for pleasure or profit at the sacrifice of innocency was a failure, so far as enjoyment was concerned. I remember of stealing a melon, and long after the good taste had left my mouth, I felt a sting on my heart.

I have much for which I should be thankful for the good home in which I was brought up. I did not realize the good home it was till I had grown up and gone out from it. We were given the needed liberties necessary for a happy childhood. We were allowed to build cob houses, whittle out toys, crack nuts, or roast pig tails on the hearth. We were allowed all the noise necessary to go with our fun when we could not play out doors. We were always given a chance to earn a little money or own some property, and could spent it as we pleased. He gave us opportunities to have money sufficient to get all the needed nice clothes, but he never bought either of us a new suit. We were always given whatever time we could help our neighbors after we would get done planting, harvesting, or husking. I always had money, and was so stingy I was quite a good-sized boy before I would spend it for nice clothes. When I began to go out into company my ignorance as how to act was painful. Fortunately I knew that Rast was a favorite among old and young and I believed knew just how to act. So I done the best I could patterning after him. Now this connects with almost important incident in my life. Taking Rast for my model I noticed that in every case where there was any unpleasant words it was my fault. If I was at the old home it would be a great pleasure to take all you younger ones right near the spot where I resolved that I would do my best to never be responsible for an unpleasant word between us. I was near fourteen years old. I remember how close I had to watch myself, and how encouraged I was as time went on and it grew easier to keep my vow, and how I prided in my success. What a blessing a good brother like that is to pattern after.

We were together almost constantly till I was near age; and we raised our wheat crops together and much of what we owned was in partnership. The fact that there never was the shadow of an unpleasant word between us after I became as willing as he no doubt had been for some time, has been a most pleasant memory now for near three score and ten years.

Other of my most pleasant memories is at times in long winter nights when Mother would knit mittens after all others were in bed, or the older ones out to parties, I would stay up with her and double and twist yarn on the old spinning wheel. This gave the opportunity for her to talk to me, as Mothers love to talk to their boys. Such conversations seemed to knit our hearts together in everlasting love; the influence of which no doubt has guarded me from much evil. Oh the blessedness of a good mother.