My Valley
Mr. Ferrie's church stood in the midst of a grove of
tall trees, some fifty feet back from the main road, Under the dense shade, long stemmed
purple violets thrived, and I often longed to gather them as I walked demurely along the
board walk to Church. But Sunday was the Sabbath in those days and the rule was closely
observed-"no work on the Sabbath day". The church services were extremely
primitive; there was no organ and no choir. William James Kinne was the chorister. He got
the pitch by means of a tuning fork, and we sang the Psalms of David set to meter, long,
short, or common. George Brown performed this service when Mr. Kinne was absent. When both
men were present we had good singing, for Mr. Brown sang a good bass, which with Mr.
Kinne's baritone gave everyone the inspiration to join in. When neither was present, Mr.
Ferrie himself "raised the tune" but as he had no ear for music, either as
to time or tune, Tillie Kiersted's clear soprano took the lead and the old Psalm went
steadily on without any breaks.
Some of our church members made loud lament over the absence of an organ and choir to lead the singing, and on one occasion Mr. George Brown who often stood behind the chorister's desk at the back of the church and therefore felt he had the proper authority, broached the matter to Mr. Ferrie, He said, "You know St. Paul never stood in the way of bringing people into the church; he would not object to the use of an organ." "Yes," responded the old Dominie with a flash of indignation, "yes, and ye might set a monkey up in the pulpit and that would bring people into the church". Safe to say George Brown never attempted that subject again.
When Mr. Ferrie was pastor twenty-five years, the church women decided to celebrate the event. Mrs. Wynkoop Kiersted offered her house for a reception and we girls, all in our early teens, were asked to assist in a musical program. Mrs. Mac Kiersted was in charge and we all contributed our best in music and what was then known as "elocution.'. Mrs. Mac, or Tillie as we called her, sang "When I recall That Night in June upon the Danube River". We youngsters decided to sing a Scotch ballad especially for Mr. and Mrs. Ferrie- "Bonnie Dundee". We liked the tune and expected the Ferries to like it too, but had no idea who or what Bonnie Dundee was. When the song was over, we were very plainly told by the blunt Mr. Ferrie what part Dundee had played in Scottish history. Evidently "the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee" and Mr. Ferrie's ancestors had not been in accord politically. The scolding was soon forgotten for a little later that night Mr. Ferrie was presented with a purse of $25.00. We were all happy and felt that we had done just the right thing. When three years later he retired, it is safe to say that no other pastor came to the Valley church who was Mr. Ferrie's equal. His retirement came as a result of eye impairment and in time he became totally blind. The family purchased a home in Monticello which was occupied by the son John and daughters long after the death of Mr. and Mrs. Ferrie. Mary the last one of her family died January 8th, 1944 at 89 years.
Whenever I think of Mr. Ferrie's abrupt remarks, I am reminded of the time he came to our house, and to Aunt Mary said, "An' did ye know my son Will is married?" "No," said my Aunt, "I hadn't heard." "Yes," continued Mr. Ferrie, "they say he's married a lass of 17- "Well," brightening up as an afterthought struck him, "May hap she will have 17 bairns." The seventeen bairns simmered down to six smart bright boys who as soon as they were old enough were sent to Grandfather Ferrie's to escape the heat of the summer, in New York City. And the old manse thereafter resounded to the laughter of young children and the sound of their racing feet as they ran "upstairs, downstairs, and in my lady's chamber". One day Mrs. Gavey from White Lake came to call bringing with her, her own grandson whom she sat on a chair, and who made no effort to get down and join in the pranks of the eldest Ferrie grandchild- Willie. At this juncture Mr. Ferrie entered and taking in the situation at a glance blurted out, "Madam, has this child any intellect?" to which Mrs. Gavey replied with asperity, "I assure you, Mr. Ferrie, this child is considered very bright." The Gaveys were fine people living near White Lake. Mr. Gavey was a dapper little Frenchman and his wife a tall rugged woman, probably of Irish extraction. When they came to church with all their grown sons and daughters, they made a fine impression on me.
Uncle Howard made the
most lasting impression and had a great deal to do with shaping my imagination as well as
my taste for books. Being an only child in a house full of adults, I was left mostly to my
own devices. So I was eager to read any book, good or bad. Books for children were rare,
and magazines even rarer. Aunt Mary took the "Youth's Companion" for me. At
Strong's bookstore in Monticello I could sometimes buy old numbers of "St.
Nicholas", which I would exchange with my playmate Gertie Purdy for Harper's
"Young People". Uncle Howard loved Dickens, and he soon had me deep in
"Pickwick Papers". Then there were "Pilgrims Progress",
"Innocents Abroad" and some other books that now seem queer mental pabulum for
children- "Religious Denominations of the World", "Secrets of the Convent
and Confessional" and "Female Life among the Mormons", These last two named
had to be read in great secrecy. I got hold of two novels by E.P. Roe but Aunt Mary
frowned upon them as "silly love stories". More dignified reading was "The
Tone Masters", which filled me with intense desire to play the music of the Old
Masters, but which desire was frustrated when they proved too hard for me; evidently there
were no simplified versions in those days. Likely these books stimulated my imagination to
a considerable degree, for I was full of fancies.
| This page has been visited |
|
times |
Designed by Alexander Pereluka - "Orion Service"