Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1855-12-27
EVENING STAR.
KISSING BETTY SCUDDY.
A SKETCH OF coRAM, LONG ISLAND.

lard OF FassGu. or Long Island, In the said
province, a notable case came up before the
justice who at that timo kept the peace at
Coram. The details Of this are partly collected
from town records, part from the antiquarian
researches OF the historian of Long Island, and
from the quaint and singular dscOurses which
Judge Benson delivered, to their great edifi-
cation, before that learned body, the New
York Historical Society, which they priced
most highly from his venerable age. Partly |
got them from insular tradition, if l may
speak sO,) and the rest from that tricksy and
communicative crew Of spirits who at this day
turn the tables upon the people, and rap al
phabetically as with mallet upon the round
earth. They told me all about Betty Scudder
as she then was, and of Betty Scudder as she
now is, in her angelic mould, and they recon-
mend me to print the narrative in the Knich
erbocker Magazine.
Coram was place where the devil played
his pTanks occasionally in old times From
there to Quog and Suam Beach, on the one
side, TO Devils Tavern and Devils Stepping
Stones, on the other, (Which Judge Bens IN
speaks Of and all around Speonk and Skunk's
Manor, he used to ''step it bout pretty lively"
There were some witches, and the spirit of
drunken Indian fiddler, who used to float in a
skif or canoe on moonlight nights around
Mosquito Cove and adjacent parts, where he
thrummcd away upon the strings till he got
all the porpOlses in state of excitement, and
set them a leaping over each others backs and
thrashing the water with their tails and pump
Ing up the brine through holes at their SHOUTS
(Which the devil bored with gimlct) like so
many whales. From there to the lighthouse
| on EatOn's Neck he played Barbara Allen
on one string till the people ere sick Of it.
=
During the harvest time at Coram the bows
| ard girls were binding wheat sheaves in the
field together. The latent jolity which there
Is In people will show ITSELF however restricted
by the cncrampment Of rules or by an estab-
| lishcd severity of manners Codes arc artif-
cial, but mirth is natural, and although the
social life of the colonies was pretty grim, and
pretty grum, and what with the absence of
| luxury, the lmInlncnce of danger, the pressure
of toll, the prohibition Of sports or the iuabil-
lty to engage In them, life assumed q stern and
serious aspect, there was still a time when the
prOfane fiddle would speak out. There was
some fitness in the lean land, and now and
then at least an oily negro would ''yaw- haw -
over q basket of chips. On Long Island,
! where there is good deal OF level plain, and
| muck, and sand, and barren sea beach, and
| the inhabitants, are disposed to be moody, they
would sometimes shake with laughter as well
as with ague. There was some fun at Coram
and some relaxation at Buckram.
The bays and girls were binding wheat
sheaves, and the work went on merriIy, and
there was much song and laughter, and the
minister looked with a pleased face over the
rails; for many matches were the result Of
these festivals. In corner of field, at the
base of yellow stack there was deposited a
corpulent little jug with a short neck, and |
am gCieyed to say that it contained rum. |
think that it is very probable that the circu-
lation of that fluid, imbibcd as il was without
any suspicion In those innocent days caused a
llghtness in the head and an activity IF the
r,oI e. III - u I
thought nothing of, but which is now eonsd-
cred as derogatory to character
"Tempora m'Itantur ct nos mutantur cum Illus ~
Well, the boys and girls were binding wheat
sheayes in the field at CorGm. Ii was near
Shutdown; the crop was nearly harvested; but,
although they had tOiled diligently all day,
| their spirits did not flag. If the whole island
had been a wheat-field, they could garnered
it in company no doubt Cheerful labor does
| not result in painful wearineSs. Hitherto they
had transgresscd no rule of prorricty, till, all
of a sudden, Bill BarkaloO, who working at
the same sheaf with Betty Scudder threw his
arms around her neck and kissed herlips with
resounding smack. 1t was the height of
audacity, and, although the blood mounted to
her eyes in anger, and she slapped his cheeks
till his ears rang, he ran away and threw him
self upon the ground, and rolled and roared
with laughter.
Bill Barkaloo was about twonty years old,
old enough to know better. He was a fellow
with big bushy head of red hair. red face,
covered with trcckles, with a hand as hard as
iron, and grasp like the grip Of vice, and
a voice like the roaring Of many waters He
made a great noise as he drove his team.
standing up in his checked shirt and signing
and hallOoing TO his cattle. He had an honest
heart, but reputation for wildness His pro-
gress IN the catechism had been hitherto small
~ laI
meeting He used to hang his bushy head
over the gallery on Sabbath Gllhisface became
as ruddy as piece Of raw beef, and then roll
ing his quid in his cheek, ogling and staring
about him, find what amusement he could, and
exhibit lack of attention TO the preached
word, to the no small disturbance Of the speak
er. Sometimes he would fall fast asleep and
snore SO rancorously as to be heard over the
whole building. or he would set the negroes
who congregated in the loft tittering. and
otherwise mar the solemnity Of the day He
was, moreover, fond Of horses, (which fact
alone, If there were 10 others against him
would have been sufficient to stamp him in the
eyes of truly religious people.) He knew the
points OF horse; he trotted and cantered and
swore often in doing the same. Nevertheless,
at tho very depth of his character there was a
seriousness which nobody had as yet fished up.
because those who looked into him were more
superficial than they thought he was He ad-
mired Betty Scudder, (and not he only,) for
she was the gem of Coram, the pride of the
Big Plains, and the flower Of Long Island; and
he could have swan through the surf, clam
bered to the top of the Back Bone, or crossed
over the Devils Stepping Stones," to win
her. He would have fought SINGLE ha nded
against all the Montauks to save her. Whom
Betty milked the cow he would sometimes
watch his chance, and, if the coast was clear
and no one stirred about the homestead, he
would scale the fence, and, kneeling down, as
sist her at the fragrant udders, although she |
protested that she did not want his help; and,
as the alternate snowy streams descended into |
the milk pail, he would attune his coarse pipes |
TO what love ditties he could; then as the even
ing star shone bright he would retire to his own
enclosure to tend his colt or to unyoke his |
oxen. 1t was pity that his reputation was |
not better, and that he had no standing in the |
church; that they looked upon him as an al |
most irredeemabie character.
On one occasion he had pinched the arm Of |
Betty at singing school, but the reproof had |
been so severe that he placed himself for a