Cattle-Show.
An overcast, mizzling, and rainy day.
Minott tells of a General Hull, who lived some where in this county, who, he remembers, called out the whole division once or twice to a muster. He sold the army under him to the English in the last war, — though General Miller of Lincoln besought to let him lead them, — and never was happy after it, had no peace of mind. It was said that his life was in danger here in consequence of his treason.
Once, at a muster in front of the Hayden house, when there was a sham fight, and an Indian party took a circuit round a piece of wood, some put green grapes into their guns, and he, hearing one whistle by his head, thought some one wished to shoot him and ordered them to disperse, — dismissed them.
Speaking of the meadow-hay which is lost this year, Minott said that the little they had got since the last flood before this was good for nothing, would only poison the cattle, being covered with the dried slime and filth of the freshet. When you mowed it there arose a great dust. He spoke of this grass, thus left over winter to next year, as "old fog."
Said that Clark (Daniel or Brooks) asked him the other day what made so many young alders and birches and willows spring up in the river meadows of late years; it didn't use to be so forty or fifty years ago; and he told him that in old times, when they were accustomed to take something strong to drink, they didn't stand for such shrubs but mowed all clear as they went, but now, not feeling so much energy for want of the stimulant, when they came to a bush, though no bigger than a pipe-stem, they mowed all round it and left it standing.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 30, 1856
Minott tells of a General Hull, who lived some where in this county.... William Hull ( 1753-1825) moved to his wife's family estate in Newton after the Revolution and served as a judge and state senator until Jefferson appointed him Governor of the Michigan where he surrendered Fort Detroit to the British on August 16, 1812.
Speaking of the meadow-hay which is lost this year . . . See September 25, 1856 ("The river has risen again considerably (this I believe the fourth time) . . .before the farmers have succeeded in their late attempt to get their meadow-hay ."); August 22, 1856 (“I see much hay floating, and two or three cocks, quite black, carried round and round in a great eddy by the side of the stream,"); August 1, 1856 (“Unfortunate those who have not got their hay. I see them wading in overflowed meadows and pitching the black and mouldy swaths about in vain that they may dry.")
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