My Valley
May Day
May day was a big event. We children would hurry home
from school to eat our dinner and then meet for a trip to the woods to gather
mayflowers-spring beauty, hepatica, dutchmans breeches and others; with these we made up
Maybaskets to hang on peoples' door knobs in the early evening after which we gave a loud
knock or rang the doorbell and ran away. On one such occasion at the "parsonage"
who should come bursting out after us but Mr. Ferrie himself. We had all gotten ourselves
pretty well hidden behind trees but when he continued to call we felt we had better show
ourselves. It was Gertie who stepped out to do the explaining and when the old Dominie
understood what the ruckus was about he said in his Scotch brogue "oh I thoct it was
some b'ys after me gyurls". These "gyurls" were all grown women indeed and
the idea of any "b'ys" coming after them in such irregular fashion was so
ludicrous as to cause us all to laugh including the Dominie himself. These
"gyurls" were expert needlewomen. There was little that was not known to them in
the way of hand craft. The oldest brother Will had a responsible job in the firm of
Tibballs & Co., N.Y., and he secured for his sisters the making of doll dresses for
the Christmas trade. Accordingly a downstairs bedroom was turned into a workshop and to
this room came yards and yards of satins and silks, lace and lawns with other dress
materials beside a beautiful dolly for a model. Of course, it soon got around the Valley
what the Ferrie girls were up to and one day at the close of school Maggie invited us
children to come into the living room and see all the finery and that wonderful doll.
Well, I am sure if "swooning" had been popular then we would all have fallen in
our tracks dead to the world, for such a vista of beauty we had never in our wildest
dreams hoped for. I myself had often been given an account of the Macy store and the grand
toy department therein and whenever Aunt Mary went to N.Y. City I always charged her to go
to "Mr. Macy's" and tell me when she got home of what she saw there. But here
before my very eyes I had a glimpse of what might be called a child's heaven. Here was
"Mister Macy's" store in miniature set right before me. It doesn't take much to
make a child happy, especially an unsophisticated child.
Railroad Talk
In my earlier days there was great hope of
a railroad other than the Monticello branch of the Erie from Monticello to Port Jervis and
the Ontario & Western Midland R.R. which skirted the northern portion of the county.
Excitement ran high whenever men gathered in store or bar room to discuss the momentous
question of the route of this new railroad. Some of these heads of families were very
anxious to have trains running past their homes but others disputed strongly the advantage
to be gained. Some even went so far as to declare they would not give one foot right of
way to have a "tootin' squawkin'" engine going past their house. The men who
protested loudest were quite likely to live on a high hill, so but little attention was
paid to them any way. As for me, when this talk was relayed to my home, I listened with
wide open ears and gave as my opinion where the station should be located. To my thinking
it must be right close by when we could all see the trains come in and be able easily to
board a train for New York rather than go a long drive at 5 a.m. on a cold winter morning
to catch the Monticello train. But with all the talk, our railroad never materialized.
Indeed today there are fewer rail lines in Sullivan Co. than there were then, owing no
doubt to the coming of the automobile passenger cars and trucks as well as large bus
lines. The old Monticello branch built in 1868-1871 was some years later wiped out and the
O.&W.: very much diminished in business. My mind travels back to many such exciting
chilly mornings, but once when Aunt Mary was planning to go for a month's visit to her
friends and relatives in New York and was to take me with her, she decided to abandon this
early rising and take a train on the Ontario & Western somewhat later in the day. At
Monticello she engaged a man to drive us to Fallsburg station (now Kiamesha) and when we
joined the West Shore R.R. at Comwall on the Hudson, my joy knew no bounds for there
happened to be a full moon and moreover, somewhere along the route we glimpsed the Mary
Powell steamboat on her way up the river. It looked like fairyland to my unaccustomed
eyes, but years later after marriage and the possession of a family, living on the east
bank of the Hudson, near Rhinecliff, a view of this fine Day line steamer could be had
each summer evening as she plied her way to her berth in Albany. She usually passed our
house about 8:30 or 9 o'clock and this was a grand excuse for the children to delay
bedtime. "Oh please mother" was their cry, "let us stay out until the
Powell goes up". When her hoarse whistle blew for Staatsburgh, that was the signal to
put away toys and come to the house. Then soon would sweep past the Mary Powell
resplendent in all her lights and grandeur and the day for the children was ended. They
were never satisfied until they could say "good night" to Mary Powell.
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