Recollections of A Busy Life

(Transcribed by Peggy Barriskill Perazzo, December 2005)

"Recollections of A Busy Life,"
By Eli Fayette Ruggles

H. L. Ruggles & Co., Publishers, (published circa 1904)

Chapter II.

The Log House Home.

The first requisite in building a log house is a man or men filled with a
hearty dinner, such as a new country gives. Then determination - grit -
pluck - perseverance. You must go five miles through the woods and get the
only blacksmith there to make your axe, hammer, butcherknife or frow. Then
when your axe is ground you have used up one day at least. Your axe is the
principal tool for such carpentry. Straight trees are cut into logs and
rolled up one above another, the corners hewed together till the house is
high enough, and now the roof. Long poles are placed on top three feet
apart, then short logs cut three feet long and split into shakes six inches
wide, one inch thick; these laid on the poles and fastened by laying
another pole on top; this, when put together with right pitch, formed the
roof. Then openings are cut in this crib - for doors and windows, and you
make the first floor of split logs, and when you sweep it with a splint
broom made from a hickory bush two inches of more in diameter. You have
now, strange to say, a house without the sound of hammer or the driving of
a nail. Later, at Waterford, a few boards were bought for the upper floor.
The family are now in the house, and the men are chopping the trees down
just outside. One large tree leans but a trifle from the house, and as it
is near ready to fall the wind springs up towards the house and a great
yell comes from the men to get out of the house quick for your lives.
Spring poles are cut in a terrible excitement and placed against the tree
in this fashion. Two are placed, and when the wind is stillest the men pull
down on the poles, then lift up the center of the pole, the victory is won,
the house is saved; but we had a big scare, I can assure you. But a boy
likes the new country life - to cut down the brush and pile them up and
play they are little haystacks; then when a little dry to set them afire in
the evening and see the bright flames leap and dance and the sparks, like
the stars on the great flag, are glorious to look at, and so numerous.

Soon as a clearing was made, the spring of 1839 was made so gladly welcome,
potatoes were planted with fine sticks and leaves and a little dirt for a
covering, and a garden of all the vegetables were planted and no weeds to
be subdued for the entire season, and in the fall such potatoes, and such
vegetables and watermelons - it makes my mouth water now to think of it.
Potatoes when baked would pop open - white and soft, like flour - no potato
bugs then to hinder their growth or spoil their flavor.

In the autumn of this year father and Martin were felling trees near by,
and father's eyes were getting dim, and Martin had put his arms around the
tree, putting his hands in the chopped place on the opposite side. Father,
not seeing his hands, began to chop, his axe cutting Martin's left wrist
half off. Oh dear, oh dear what shall be done now! But one thing can be
done - doctor, hospital and nurse are all within the family or nowhere.
Martin was seated in a home-made chair about fifteen feet from the door and
Freman was nearest to being a doctor. Sticks were taken, bandages applied
and tepid water was the medicine for the first day; then an ointment of
mutton tallow and spignut root completed the healing.

That evening, while mother was caring for Martin and the rest seated sadly
around the big fire, a hew-ou-ou-ou! Hear that wolf howl, will you! He
smells blood, and there is another, far away they seem at first, but they
come nearer - yes, they gather near and now we hear the young whelps whine
and snarl; yes, they are at our very door and licking up the blood where
Martin sat, and they quarrel for the best chance. Fernando says, "now, I
will put an end to your fun." He picks up a fire brand with the tongs,
opens the door quickly and hurls it among them, and such a scampering and
rustling of leaves you never heard. To protect against wolves Fernando
bought a large white dog. When, after that, a wolf would howl Bose would
mock him. But not a rod did he go in pursuit. When pigs had grown to hogs
in a log pen was built with a floor above and corn put on the upper floor.
One day Fernando told Bose to drive a pig from the door yard, but would he
do it? Not much; he just dropped his long, bushy tail to the ground and
trotted off back of the house to enjoy the shade. Bose was a perfect
coward. Fernando started in pursuit with blood in his eye. I'll fix Bose,
old chap, see if I don't - grabbed Bose by the nap of his neck and started
for the hog pen; raised the trap door and pitched him in headlong among a
lot of Michigan Shark hogs, shut down the door and said: "Now, Bose, you
fight or die." Bose yelled and bounded from one corner to another, and
yelp, yelp goes Bose. Finally the tune changed and the swine began to
squeal; here and there the strife rages and the hogs squeal lustily.
Fernando raised the trap door and called, "here, Bose" and out he jumps a
conqueror.

* * * * * * *

You are fond of the pure maple sugar, but may not know how it is made.
Beginning with the first thawing in February the troughs, or buckets or
pails, are placed one to each maple tree. Then spiles are made one foot
long, with a small hole burned in the center; then a three-quarter inch
hole is bored in each tree, the spile driven in tight so that the sap is
forced out the burned hole, runs down a groove in the spile and drops off
the end of the spile into the bucket. After the trees are all tapped you
may have to hurry and hitch the oxen to the sled, on which is placed a cask
that holds, say ten barrels, and with a pail in each hand and perhaps a
yoke on the neck and shoulders the sap is gathered, then emptied into a
large trough; then away after another load. But while one man gathers sap
another must be boiling the sap. Two or three large kettles are hung on a
pole and logs rolled up on each side, the fire started with small wood, and
soon the sap is boiling, and as the sap boils away it is replenished by
more being poured in by the pail full, or better make a yankee device and
have a small stream running into each kettle all the time and the fire hot
enough to keep it boiling. Keep this up twelve hours and the kettle of sap
is getting rich, and then boil down till it is syrup, empty, let cool and
strain. Then occasionally you will enjoy a sugaring-off party, either in
the sugar camp or at the house. Boil the syrup till thick, then pour it on
snow for wax, and set your teeth in it and try to talk, and see what
ridiculous work you make of it. Then dip the warm sugar into scallop tins,
tea saucers, eggshells, etc. Then play snap and catch 'em, and promenade
four, and see your gal home through the woods, or that may be a sled load
drawn by Buck and Star. If it does not freeze nights the sap will keep
running and the boiling must be kept up all night; many a night have us
boys changed at midnight, and that is always just when a fellow is in a
sound sleep. But precious sleep must depart and heavy eyes must wake up and
the tired sleeper must go out into the dense forest and may have to work
till the next midnight. Yes, sugar is sweet, but it is often obtained by
weary bodies and sleepy eyes. Mother was mixing bread one day and a faint
rap was heard on the door. Mother told me to open the door; I pulled the
latch-string, opened the door and slammed it shut and said, "Mother, there
are Injuns at the door." But mother was not so scared and opened the door
cautiously, and then a squaw says, "Buzhoo, buzhoo (how do you do, how do
you do)?"

And there were two squaws and three papooses, and they had baskets of all
sizes and colors, so mother exchanged flour, pork and beans for baskets.

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