Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1894-04-02
White Mans Wings.

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Laban Whitaker was d boy Of near
~ twelve when his father, Deacon
Whitaker, moved up from Salem tt
the Banks OF the Merrimac at what il
now Concord, n. II. The new coun
try was fertile, and on broad plair
in bend of the great river a pros
porous little hamlet was growing.
The home Of the Whitakers was one
of the twelve garrison houses of Pena-
cook. During colonial times houses
in a new settlement were built so as
10 be easily defended in case Of an at
tack from savages. Strong walls OF
hewn timber, carried up as high as
the roofs, were erected around each
house, and at the corners were sentry
boxes where some one OF the family
watched when an Indian raid was
apprehended. Sometimes number
of dwellings were inclosed in such a
fertilization.
Laban was the youngest Of family
of nine One of his elder brothers
was grown up and married, but the
young couple made their home with
his father. In SO large household it
usually devolves on one of the young
er members to do the chores. This
part of the labor fell generally upon
Laban.
But he was stout, sturdy boy, quite
willing to perform the duties that fell
to him. These were to go to the mill
whenever the family supply Of rye
and Indian meal was exhausted, to
cut and carry the firewood, and in
summer time to weed the garden and
herd the COWS.
There was no fenced enclosure for
pasturage purposes in early Penacook.
The COWS of the settlers ran at large
in the woods and meadows, and the
boys took turns in guarding them
through the day and driving them up
at night. AS two boys watched at a
time, and as there were about dozen
boys in the settlement it consequent
ly become Laban's turn once a week
to be out with the COWS.
1t was not hard work, and when it
was not stormy weather Laban rather
liked it. The danger attending it was
just sufficient to give certain zest to
the employment, for it was in the
time of the French and Indian war.
Two or three years before this band
Il. i Ii L -
forest and shot down seven of the
settlers as they were passing from the
town to garrison a few miles dis
tant. Since then, although other set
Elements had felt the scourge, Pena-
cook had not been molested. Still the
settlers were not unconscious Of the
danger that any day might sweep
down upon them.
Sentries stood on guard day and
night. Every pioneer carried his
musket to his work in the fields, and
on Sunday the congregation went
armed to man TO the little log meet
ing house. Even the minister kept
his firelock by his side in the pulpit
as he read from the word of God.
Such was life on the New England
frontier one hundred and fifty years
ago.
One bright June day Laban and an
other boy named Ezra Kimball went
out together to watch the COWS. Both
boys had their fiintlock nnuskets, and
with them went Rover, large
brindled mastiff that belonged to the
Kimban lad
The COWS had fed farther than was
usual that day, and when the long af-
ternoon drew TO close the boys were
a mile from home. They had not
thought Of danger, however, as they
drove their lowing charge through
the bosky glades and along the forest
paths toward the little settlement.
The soft, balny air was full of charm.
The smoke rising from the chimneys
of the cabins down in the valley,
where the settlers wives were cook
ing their late supper, gave pleasant
touch to the landscape.
A great hush had suddenly come
over the forest. Not birds note was
to be heard. The stiffness, like that
of a Sabbath, struck the boys atten-
ton, and they looked at each other
with sudden fear branching their
tanned faces. Rover's sharp bark in
front re- assured them, however, and