In the aftermath of the Fourth of July holiday weekend, this week’s blog entry relates to Cornwall’s Revolutionary War history. Following the Boston Tea Party in December 1773, the British Parliament passed a series of punitive measures directed against the Province of Massachusetts Bay, popularly known in the American Colonies as the “Intolerable Acts.” One of these measures, the Boston Port Act, effectively shut down all commerce in Boston Harbor until the destroyed tea was paid for. In response to this development, towns from throughout the thirteen colonies responded to Boston’s plight by sending money and provisions to the blockaded city.
At a special town meeting on August 22, 1774, Cornwall residents voted that it was their community’s duty to support Boston, which the selectmen claimed was “suffering in the common cause of liberty” (emphasis in original). A benevolent committee was established to collect donations and forward them to Massachusetts, and to show just how enthusiastic the selectmen were in their support of Boston, voters ordered that the meeting minutes be printed in the Connecticut Journal and thus made public throughout the state. Members of the Cornwall donations committee gathered supplies from their neighbors and subsequently met with other committees from nearby towns at a county convention where they commonly sent their donated items north to Massachusetts along with a letter of support.
In November 1774, Cornwall’s selectmen received a reply from the Boston Committee of Donations, pictured below. According to the committee chairperson, David Jefferies, Boston’s civic leaders were very impressed with the “liberal donations” sent to the city from Northwestern Connecticut, especially in regards to the 51 cattle that were driven from the Litchfield Hill towns overland to the Massachusetts capital. Although the contents of the letter that the county delegation forwarded to Boston is unknown, the language was evidently prophetically strong—Jefferies took the time to specifically thank the Litchfield County committee for pledging to assist Boston with their “lives and fortunes whenever there shall be occasion.” Five months after the Cornwall selectmen received the letter from Jefferies, the Revolutionary War began at Lexington and Concord and militiamen from throughout New England swarmed to the countryside outside Boston. Four of the five men appointed to Cornwall’s donations committee went on to fight in the Revolution, namely Thomas Porter, Edward Rogers, John Sedgwick, and Heman Swift.
In case you missed it, or if you want to experience it again, here is the video of our final program of 2014, Letters & Lyrics with Rick Spencer and Richard Schlesinger. Transcripts of the letters and the titles of the songs are below.
PROGRAM
[Letter written by Pvt. Josiah Corban to his wife and
children. Corban was a Cornwall farmer who enlisted in 1862, when he was 41
years old.]
Camp near Fort Worth, Virginia Feb 12th 1862
Dearest of earth, I received yours of the 6th to day and
wonder why it should be so long on its way here. I sent one this morning that I
had written by having two or three spells at it before I finished it. They keep
us very busy now a days so I cannot often get a chance to write but a short
time at once without writing nights, and then I generally have to buy a candle
to see by, if I have a chance to see well enough to write. We use sperm Candles
here, they cost five cents apiece. One will last nearly two evenings if we
don’t sit up long after Roll call, which is at half past eight.
...the Lord only knows what trials we may be called to pass
through before peace will be declared and the Rebels be made to give up their
Rebellion. The Governor of Connecticut, Buckingham, was here yesterday. He came
on to the ground where we were on Battallion drill. In a short time after he
came on to the Parade ground. We were ordered to form a square, and he and
those that were with him besides all our Commissioned Officers went inside the
square. The Lieutenant Col. introduced them as well as all the rest of us to
the Chief Magistrate the Governor of Connecticut William A. Buckingham and told
them they could speak to him, any of them that wished to. The Captains and
Lieutenants all went up and shook hands with him and some of them talked with
him a few minutes. Then he took off his hat and made a short Speech to us. He
spoke with a great deal of feeling in our behalf and told us how much he
thought of us as well as all the rest of the troops from our state and said
that he would be glad to shake hands with every one of us. He praised us for
our Patriotism in leaving our homes and friends to come down here to fight for
our Country and said if we never went to the field of battle we were doing as
much good as if we did. He said it was better to sacrafice [sic] a whole
Generation than to have our Government destroyed. He is a plain looking man and
I don’t think it makes him feel lifted up any by being Governor. He did not
talk as if he had any idea of the North ever giving up the Contest till the
Rebels are Conquered and made to return to the Union. It brought tears to my
eyes to hear him speak of the loved ones at home. It touches my feelings very
sensibly to hear anything that relates to my loved ones at home for they are
nearer my heart than any other earthly object. May God grant that I may meet
them and all the rest of my friends once more in Cornwall, and also in Heaven
at last.
Yours with undying affection,
J. B. Corban
[Song]
Henry Clay Work’s “The Girls at Home.”
[Letter written by Brigadier General John Sedgwick to his
sister Emily, following the First Battle of Bull Run, the first major battle of
the Civil War.]
Washington, D.C., July 23, 1861
My dear sister:
Our army has suffered one of the most terrible defeats on
record—one of the most disgraceful! We have lost everything, even our honour.
When I last wrote you the army had marched in high spirits,
and every one predicted a prosperous result, and some little success was
obtained; but a panic seized the volunteers, they threw away everything they
had, and fled in terrible disorder. Whole regiments fled without giving a shot
or getting near the enemy. Our artillery behaved bravely; they maintained their
position till they lost so many men and horses that many were obliged to leave
their guns. The loss of property was immense; it is hoped the loss of life not
great, but no reports are made yet. We are disorganized, and if the enemy had
not suffered severely, as we hope they have, they could have marched into
Washington last night. I went to bed night before last believing that
everything was going on well, and yesterday was ill in my room all day till
three o’clock, when I learned of the terrible disaster. I have no heart to
write more.
Your affectionate brother,
J.S.
[Song]
George F. Root’s “The Prisoner’s Hope.”
[Letter written by Josiah Corban while recovering in a
military hospital after being released from a Confederate prison camp]
Annapolis Junction, Dec. 10th 1864
Dear Wife & Children
I thought I would write a few lines again this morning &
send so you need not be looking in vain for news from me. I can’t tell much but
I suppose just seeing a few lines I have written will be better than nothing.
The Doctors, one of them, came around yesterday to get the names of the Parole
Prisoners; also when & where they were captured, when & where released,
so they could make arrangements to pay them all their back pay & also their
ration money while they were prisoners. They are going to pay us up pretty
soon, & then give us 30 days furlough to go home. That is an order from the
war department. & I suppose I can have another furlough if I want it. We
all have to wear Hospital shirts. I wear a woolen one under the cotton one that
they furnish. They brought in some Drawers but they were so short & small I
could not wear them. The most of them were just so, but I shall get along if
they will let me wear my own. ...My boils have got pretty much done running,
but I am so sore yet I can’t sit with much comfort & my Scurvy comes out as
bad as ever yet. How long it will continue so, I don’t know, but guess the way
I am doctering for it will prove a remedy after a while. I have only just begun
on my butter & my Sausage... I shall have to let some one help [me] eat it,
I guess, for they don’t allow me to have much meat & I intend to be as
careful as possible about eating such things as will hinder me about getting
rid of my scurvy. I suppose that will be one thing that will worry you for fear
I will be imprudent about eating, but you need not worry for I don’t mean to. I
begin to feel as if I could not wait much longer to get a letter from home.
Suppose I may have one [waiting] at the Parole camp, hope they will send it
here shortly.
Keep up good courage & trust in God for protection &
he will sustain you through every trial. Yours the same as ever with much love
to all,
Josiah B. Corban
[Song]
“The Brass Mounted Army”
[Letter written by Mark Nickerson to his niece in 1910,
describing his experiences at the Battle of Malvern Hill on July 1, 1862]
Many of the men dropped on the ground and were soon fast
asleep— others were talking in low tones, telling their Chums what to do, or
where to write in case they were killed. I had a package of letters I had
received from my young Lady Friends—I tore them up into small pieces +
scattered them on the ground. No one should read those letters if I was killed.
As we lay there in the woods, the silence was oppressive—not a leaf stirred on
the trees—not a puff of air—the only sounds we could hear, was the low subdued
tones of the men talking to each other, + off to the front in the woods, we
could hear at a distance what sounded like the tramping of Soldiers + giving of
orders. It was the calm before the storm. As the ominous sounds in the woods on
our front grew louder + seemed to be coming nearer, the men who were asleep
were quietly awakened, + we were all told to examine our guns. The Rebs had set
out on this Campaign to crush the Army of the Potomac + we knew full well that
they would not give it up without another bloody Battle. So here we were
awaiting the attack. We had been able to get but little snatches of sleep for 7
days + nights. Most of that time we had been on the move. Our Haversacks were
empty + we had been out of rations for 24 + 36 hours. We were a hollow-eyed,
wild looking set of men, + a dangerous set to tackle. Suddenly the storm broke
in all its fury, like a thunder shower in Summer when the wind gets into it +
brings it up from the North West, only a thousand times more fearful than any
thunder Shower. At a given signal, Battery after Battery came out of their
hiding place on a gallop, wheeled quickly into position + limbered up for
action. The Infantry came out of their hiding places, + quickly formed in line
of Battle. ... As we were marching by the flank to take our place in line of
Battle, I noticed running Black Berries on the ground and stooped down several times
to pick a Black Berry, as I was hungry + Thirsty. The Orderly Sergeant spoke to
me quite sharply, + told me to mind what I was about. I told him I knew what I
was about, + before the Battle was over had had a chance to see that I knew
what I was about.
Before reaching our lines the Rebs had to cross quite a
large open field in range of our Artillery, and when near to our lines, they
would be lost to our sight for a short time, as they crossed a lower stretch of
ground, then they would come into plain view again on a level with our line of
Battle. It seems terrible to think of now the way those brave men were cut down
by the fire of our Artillery to say nothing of the Rifle fire from the
Infantry, but we Just gloried in it then. Our fighting blood was up. They were
after us—would kill us if they could—and the more we killed of them the better
chance we stood for our own lives.
[Song]
Walter Kitteridge’s “Tenting Tonight on the Old Campground”
[Letter from Corporal Joseph Payne to his cousin Samuel F.
Gold]
Camp near Alexandria, Va
December 13th 1862
Dear Cousin Sam,
I received your welcome letter yesterday the 12th and was
happy to learn that you were well and thriving. I hope you will continue so and
I hope also that we shall meet again both of us hale & hearty. I am very
well now. I have had some cold but it is now disappearing fast. I weighed 160
when I entered the U.S. Service. I now weigh 183: a gain of 28 lbs, which isn’t
so slow, taking into consideration the diet furnished by Uncle “Sam”. But we
that is the 19th ought to be thankfull for the good fare we have had compared
with other Regiments. Since we have been here we have had good nice bread, good
pork, occasionally potatoes and beef; but the beef, I might say, is old enough
to speak for itself. In addition to this we have Sibley tents, stoves and
plenty of good wood. Oh as long as we live here we certainly cannot complain
but somehow this kind of life don’t seem to satisfy, to be sure. It is
perfectly safe here, but deeds of bravery and scars are an honor to a person,
therefore I think I should like to be with Burnside, where things are stirring
now. I expect success attend his efforts. You asked me my opinion of the
removal of McClellan. I like the idea very much. He no doubt was or is a good
general, but too slow for the present time and emergencies. Burnside I believe
is the man for the times, quick to take advantage of any and all successes
which he may achieve. We have good telegraphic news from Burnside to night but
somehow the operators won’t tell us what it is, only that it is good, with
which we have got to be satisfied for the present. The reason why I made that
mistake in directing your letter was that I sent the letter to the Capt [Edward
F. Gold] to read and he lost it and I had to direct the letter from memory.
The Capt is well and growing fat every day. Our Co., those
who you are acquainted, are all well. I believe some of them have been sick but
all have now pretty much recovered their health. I shall be very happy to
receive your picture. I will send you another one soon after receiving it you
much been[?] the first one up. Give all my love to all of your folks. Write
soon.
I remain Truly yours,
Cousin Joe
[Song]
George F. Root’s “The Battle Cry of Freedom”
[Letter from Sedgwick’s aide, Capt. Richard Halsted, to
Sedgwick’s sister, Emily]
Camp Near Berlin, Maryland, July 17, 1863
My dear Miss Sedgwick:
As you no doubt already know, from newspapers if not from
letters, we have been for the past few weeks having a very active campaign, so
far as marching is concerned at least. It does now and then occur that
well-ordered marches as effectually beat an enemy as the most decisive battle
could do, and something must be set down to the saving of life. There is not much
doubt that some of our marching has been much to Mr. Lee’s damage, but still
the battle of Gettysburg had to be fought. No amount of marching with the
forces we then had could have obviated the necessity for a fight like that one
somewhere. It was a terrible fight. The losses show that. The common talk among
the prisoners taken by us is that Lee lost at Gettysburg alone not less than
thirty thousand men. Our own loss is about twenty thousand men. I wish I could
give you an idea of the artillery fire. It was terrific. We at the 6th Corps
headquarters were in a good position to judge of it, for, singular as it may
seem, almost the only spot along the whole line not under fire was that
occupied by us....I cannot tell
you anything of any consequence about the fight. Some of the newspaper accounts
were very good. I saw so little of it that I cannot describe it. Our progress
in pursuit of Lee was necessarily slow and cautious. Two such armies, having
fought each other so often, having known each other so long and intimately,
cannot very well afford to play at fast and loose.
Now, as I write, a staff-officer from headquarters comes to
bring information which looks to an immediate move—to-day, if possible.... The
officer does not know the direction in which we are to go. I wish that one
small portion of the 6th Corps might move in the direction of, and have for its
ultimate destination the region known as, Cornwall Hollow....
Very sincerely yours,
R.F. Halsted
[Song]
E.W. Locke, “We Will Not Retreat Any More”
"We will not Retreat any More," sheet music sent to Miner Rogers in Cornwall by Sgt. William Cogswell in Washington, D.C., 1862
At the opening reception for our Civil War exhibit, we were given a map from 1858 owned by Major General John Sedgwick. The map, produced by the War Department Office of Explorations and Surveys, is a sketch of the routes between Fort Laramie and the Great Salt Lake.
At the time, Sedgwick was stationed at Fort Leavenworth in Kansas. Fort Laramie was further west, in Wyoming. The Great Salt Lake area, even further west, was of great interest to the military: from 1857 to 1858, the U.S. army engaged in what they called the "Utah Expedition." It has also been called the Mormon War.
During the 1850s, the U.S. government considered the Mormons to be a lawless group of religion fanatics. In May, 1857, approximately 2,500 U.S. troops assembled at Fort Leavenworth and marched to Salt Lake to subdue the Mormons and reclaim control of the Utah territory. In response, the Mormons called up the Utah militia to defend them. Both sides spent months posturing, trying very hard to avoid actual combat.
The "bloodless war" continued until June, 1858, when Brigham Young accepted President Buchanan's offering of peace.
Sedgwick's map was made in January 1858, during the middle of the conflict between the U.S. military and the Mormon settlers.
Brothers Joseph Benjamin and William Rufus Payne both served during the Civil War. In 1860, the two brothers were living with their father, Rufus Payne, who was a hotel keeper, their mother, Mary (Calhoun) Payne, and their sisters, Mary and Charlotte.
William R. Payne, carte-de-visite in an album kept by his sister Charlotte "Lottie" Payne. Collection of Cornwall Historical Society.
William Payne (1832-1865) was working as a house painter when the Civil War started. He enlisted with Company I, 11th Connecticut Volunteer Infantry as a 1st Sergeant on October 16, 1861. William was promoted to 2nd Lieutenant on June 2, 1862 and served a three year term, mustering out on October 21, 1864. He returned home to Cornwall, suffering from a disease contracted during his service. William Payne died at home from that disease on February 20, 1865. He was buried in the Cornwall Cemetery on Cemetery Hill Road (now Route 4).
Joseph B. Payne, carte-de-visite in an album kept by his sister Charlotte "Lottie" Payne. Collection of Cornwall Historical Society.
Joseph Payne (1841-1864) enlisted with Company G, Second Regiment Connecticut Volunteers Heavy Artillery as a Corporal on August 4, 1862. He was promoted to Sergeant on January 1, 1864 and to Quarter Master Sergeant on February 13, 1864. Joseph was killed at the Battle of Cold Harbor on June 1, 1864. He was buried on the battlefield, now at the Cold Harbor National Cemetery.
One of several Civil War letters written by Joseph Payne, now in the Collection of the Cornwall Historical Society.
During the war, Joseph wrote frequently to his sister Charlotte “Lottie” Payne back home in Cornwall. In a letter written at Headquarters Camp near Alexandria on October 6, 1862, Payne wrote “The boys from Cornwall are all well.” He also discussed a box of food and other items from home that Charlotte was preparing to send him, requesting pie and encouraging her to send a “good sized box for it don’t cost much more than a small one.”
Fearing the worst for himself, Payne prepared a final letter to be sent to his sister in the event of his death. The letter, now in the collection of the Cornwall Historical Society, consisted primarily of a poem intended to console Lottie as she grieved for the loss of her brother. A transcript of the letter is as follows:
Sister Lottie
Do not be at your
wit’s end wondering who this comes from, but receive it as the words of your
now Sainted brother,
Joseph
From one who loves thee with
thoughts to dear to tell, let us recognize each other in heaven.
To Lottie
O, think of me not as afar, when
you meet
Where the oft bereft circle sits closer around,
Look not with despondence on one
vacant seat,
Nor think of me there as beneath the cold ground
From my home in the mansions of
Glory above
I may visit you often in those circles of love.
O, think of me not as afar when you
bend
And united by offer the incense of prayer,
It ascends to my home and myspirit may lend
The gladning of its love to present it when there,
Or may holier around you unseen
& impart
Some promptings of love to each supplicant heart.
O, think of me not as afar when you
bow
In the temple to worship [..] father & God
In the place where I praise him no
tears ever flow
There is naught to remind of his chastening rod
My spirit may meet the resigned
heart & raise
In responses more full, the glad anthems of praise.
O, think of me not as afar, when
alone
You muse over the past & recall each glad voice
When the visions of earth, the most
brightly have shone
And by sorrow untaught, you have dared to rejoice
O, how near would I then be
to whisper of joy
Which the arrow of death can never destroy.
O, think of me not as afar in that
house
When in secret you as for the blessing of peace
If in sadness, my savior may send
me to pour
The sweet balm he bestows on the spirit forgiven
And as comfort flows in o’er your
grief wounded soul
Let no murmur, of sorrow the soft tide control.
O, think of me not as afar off
whenever
Sweet cheerfulness, visits the shrine of your heart
The smile of that happiness, never,
no, never
Would my spirit ever lessen or bid to depart
I would be still remembered, but
not with the tomb
Should the thoughts of the happy be blended with gloom..
O, think of me not, as afar off
when meeting
The absent returned, or the friends frequent call
I would add to the hearts cheerful
greeting
And on missions of mercy, would fain bless you all
Then check not one joy, that
religion approves
But smiles through the tears that remembrances still move.
O, think of me not, as afar off or
lonely,
Here are myriads of happy ones chanting their songs
And remember, remember that here
& here only
True happiness, pure & immortal belongs
The ransomed[?] from earth are
raising their voices
Our intern, Ryan Bachman, has been spending the summer transferring
our historic documents to archival folders and boxes, improving their
storage and making them more accessible for research. This is the fourth
in a series of blog posts he is writing about some of the interesting
or surprising documents he finds in our vault.
This week, I worked on sorting the papers of Emily E. Marsh. Ms. Marsh was a lifelong resident of Cornwall who ironically lived in the building that currently houses the historical society. She was perhaps best known for her job as a librarian, which she held for over forty years. As Cornwall librarian, Ms. Marsh received hundreds of letters from genealogy enthusiasts interested in their Cornwall roots, and over the course of her life, she collected countless items associated with Cornwall families, and town history in general. One item I uncovered this week that really stands out is a book of artwork and poetry made by twenty year old Cornwall resident Janet E. Payne in 1838. The images call to mind the artwork found in the friendship album made for Cherry Stone in 1824 by Wu Lan, a student of the Foreign Mission School. It’s interesting to speculate what influences or connections there may be between these two volumes.
Our intern, Ryan Bachman, has been spending the summer transferring
our historic documents to archival folders and boxes, improving their
storage and making them more accessible for research. This is the second
in a series of blog posts he is writing about some of the interesting
or surprising documents he finds in our vault.
This week, I originally planned to continue writing about the biography of James Douglas. However, in keeping with the Civil War exhibit, I recently found an interesting letter from 1851 written by a Connecticut traveler who journeyed from the Nutmeg State to Alabama. The letter was written to a woman named Jane, and sent by someone known only as “your friend”, who was originally from Hartford. The mysterious letter gives insight into the views of a Northerner on life in the Southern states in the years prior to the Civil War.
According to the letter’s author, the trip began with a train ride from Hartford to New York City, where the traveler met up with a man known as “Mr. Savage.” After cross-checking with census records, “Mr. Savage” appears to have been Henry Jamin Savage, a Connecticut-native who removed to Wilcox County, Alabama where he worked as a successful businessman. Savage would later serve in the Third Alabama Cavalry and the Fourth Alabama Volunteer Militia during the Civil War. The traveler toured New York City for several days, taking in the sights and seeing a play, before continuing on to Washington, D.C., by way of rail through Philadelphia and Baltimore. When they reached the nation’s capital, the traveler related that Savage took them on a detour to Richmond. According to the traveler, one the pair reached the city:
“…he stopped to buy slaves; I had a very pleasant time there and went all round the city. It don’t look much like I thought it did. It looks as black as the Negroes that live there. More than half of the people are black that live there. There was an auction the day I was there, they sold 300 Negroes. They was put aboard the cars to the South, they looked like a drove of sheep...”
In the margins next to this anecdote, the traveler scrawled, “Don’t let anybody see this but you. Burn it up.” Even though the letter’s author treated the slave auction in a somewhat casual manner, this note suggests that at the same time, they were worried about the knowledge of Savage’s purchase of slaves being known in Connecticut. The people purchased at the auction were evidently put on trains and sent to plantations in the Deep South, which is where Savage and the traveler continued on to, as well. From Richmond, the two Connecticut-natives traveled back to the coast, and made their way through the Carolinas to Georgia, and then overland to Wilcox County, Alabama. Once at the Savage home, the traveler related to their friend Jane their observations on life in the rural South:
“I like the people very much, they are all so kind. I can’t help it, but they are so different from the North. I don’t know how to act. They shake hands when they meet and when they part, they can’t talk a bit like me—they laugh to hear me talk and I laugh to hear them. They never say “I guess”, but say “I reckoned so”, and “a heap of folks”, “that mighty good”; all of these words, they are as common as dirt and sound very queer to me. They live on sweet potatoes, cornbread, and chickens all the time. They don’t have any pies and cake, they don’t know how to make them. Their bread is nothing; cornmeal and hot water and a little suet, put it on a board and set it in the ashes to bake. I have plenty of buttermilk, and I am as fat as a pig.”
This letter, written ten years before the start of the Civil War, gives a great deal of information about national attitudes in the antebellum United States. One clue as to the writer’s identity may be found in the 1860 US Census—at that time, there was a man from Connecticut named Fred Hickox living in the Savage household. Hickox later went on to serve in the Third Alabama Cavalry alongside his fellow Nutmegger Henry Jamin Savage.
Our intern, Ryan Bachman, has been spending the summer transferring our historic documents to archival folders and boxes, improving their storage and making them more accessible for research. This is the first in a series of blog posts he'll be writing about some of the interesting or surprising documents he finds in our vault.
The archives at the Cornwall Historical Society are full of obscure, interesting, and sometimes downright strange stories from the town’s past that are oftentimes forgotten or unknown. One of those tales that was recently discovered was a short biography written about one of the town’s earliest settlers, James Douglas. From Cornwall historians, such as Rev. Edward C. Starr, several facts about Douglas are known. Douglas and his family were some of the first settlers to live on Cream Hill, and he and his wife worked as schoolteachers in the community—one of Douglas’ students was a young Ethan Allen, who allegedly played an elaborate prank on his teacher that involved hoisting him into the rafters of a building as he slept. The biography found in the archives gives new details into Douglas’ early days in Cornwall, and into the history of the town’s settlement in general.
Unfortunately, the biography of James Douglas is undated and unsigned. However, due to references made by the author, it is possible to date the document to the first two decades of the 1800s. According to Douglas’ anonymous biographer, he and his young family arrived at Cream Hill during the early summer of 1739. The Douglas clan moved to Cornwall from Plainfield, but James had lived in that community only for a brief time after originally emigrating from Scotland. Once on their newly purchased home lot, James and his sons began to build a log house and clear farmland with a horse and team of oxen that they had brought along with them.
Douglas had originally planned to return his livestock to Plainfield in the fall, due to the fact that he had no hay stockpiled to feed the animals through the winter. However, Douglas soon found out that winters in Connecticut’s Northwest Corner are rarely predictable. An early snowfall dropped so much snow on the community that he was unable to safely drive any of his livestock through the narrow pathways that served as roads in Cornwall at that time. When the weather failed to warm back up, Douglas was faced with the harsh reality that his farm animals were snowed-in on Cream Hill for the winter with no food. Douglas contemplated his predicament and remembered that he had noticed a large amount of moss growing on the trees on the north side of Cream Hill. He took his farm tools and set about scraping and collecting the thick moss. To his relief, he found that the oxen loved eating the moss, but he was disappointed to find that his horse would have none of it.
Douglas had been hunting the plentiful deer in the area for months, and desperate to find something his horse would eat, he concocted another plan. As his biographer told it decades later, “he then manufactured a soup from the venison, this the horse took well.” While Douglas was excited that his horse ate the venison soup, he was still worried that it had no solid food to eat, so again in the words of his biographer, Douglas also fed his horse, “the hair taken from the hides of the deer.” As strange as it sounds that James Douglas fed his livestock a diet of moss, venison, and fur for an entire winter, all three of the animals survived the season in good health, “and it is said that Mr. Douglas was often heard to remark in after years that he never wintered stock that passed through in better conditions.”
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