Читать книгу Woodside, the North End of Newark, N.J - C. G. Hine - Страница 28

That the Point House was a place of resort at an early date would appear from the following anecdote told me by Mrs. R. H. Brewster, a granddaughter of that Phœbe King who furnished the original material for the story, and who lived just below in the King house. The incident occurred before 1820, and came to Mrs. Brewster from her mother.

During certain seasons of the year the men of the neighborhood were in the habit of going on what were known as fishing trips on the river, but though they fished within sight of their own doors, they would remain away from home for two or three days, using the Point House, which was then run by a woman, as headquarters, and here they indulged in what were technically known as “fish dinners”, and these fish dinners, it would appear, were conducive to more or less conviviality. The fact that “Poddy”, husband of Phœbe, was much troubled with gout in later years may have been due to an excess of fish, or something taken at this time—however this is merely surmise.

Phœbe, it seems, came to the conclusion that her good man was eating too many fish dinners, and she said something to this effect, even going so far, when no attention was paid to her first hint, as to suggest that she might blow up the Point House if “Poddy” did not change his method of fishing, but he forgot all about it the next time one of his cronies came along and off he went again. Thus things ran along some two years or more until one day Phœbe discovered a ladder standing against the side of the Point House, next the kitchen chimney, at a time when a “fish dinner” was hatching, and as our story opens a great chowder was brewing over the fire at the bottom of that chimney. Phœbe saw her opportunity and grasped it; procuring a long string, a small bag and what she thought was powder enough to give the fisherman a scare, she proceeded to work. But as the result shows she underestimated the ability of good black powder to do things.

With the powder inclosed in the bag and the bag fast to one end of the string the good wife cautiously ascended to the roof and, carefully placing the bag just over the chimney’s edge, she then came back to earth and, walking as far as the string would permit, let it go and hurried home. The result was even more conclusive than she had anticipated, for the explosion that followed not only distributed the chowder with absolute impartiality to the expectant company gathered around the hearth, but also removed a portion of the chimney.

It would appear that at that time there was a witch in the neighborhood, possibly old Moll DeGrow, whose power for evil was generally recognized, and the recipients of the chowder promptly came to the conclusion that the witch was at the bottom of the trouble, all but “Poddy”. He had a light, and hastened home with it, but there sat Phœbe, placidly spinning and greatly surprised at his tale of woe, and though he tried to get up an argument over the matter it lacked success, being much too one-sided, and it was many years before he was allowed to verify his suspicions. In the meantime fish dinners at the Point House went out of fashion, the new method of serving chowder not being looked on with favor.