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Updated: June 10, 2025
He will tell us where mother is," cried Peggy hopefully. They all hastened to meet him, only to learn that their mother had not been seen since she left home. "Did the Indians carry her off?" cried little Samuel, choking back a sob. Betsey relieved that awful thought by exclaiming, "Here comes Captain Shackford with his soldiers. They will find her."
Adopted his cousin, one time, but made the house so hot for him that the lad ran off to sea, and since then had had nothing to do with the old bilk. Indeed! What sort of fellow was young Shackford? Mr. Wollaston could not say of his own knowledge; thought him a plucky chap; he had put a big Italian named Torrini out of the yard, one day, for talking back. Who was Torrini?
Slocum himself. "He has more backbone with the men than I have," acknowledged Mr. Slocum. "He knows how to manage them, and I don't." As soft as Slocum was a Stillwater proverb. Richard certainly had plenty of backbone; it was his only capital. In Mr. Slocum's estimation it was sufficient capital. But Lemuel Shackford was a very rich man, and Mr.
Shackford had been seen alive was at six o'clock the previous evening. Who had done the deed? Tramps! answered Stillwater, with one voice, though Stillwater lay somewhat out of the natural highway, and the tramp that bitter blossom of civilization whose seed was blown to us from over seas was not then so common by the New England roadsides as he became five or six years later.
In those days the college was small, there were few teachers, and only about fifty students in a class. Soon after he entered college, young Lowell made the acquaintance of a senior, W.H. Shackford, to whom many of his published letters of college life are addressed. Another intimate friend was George Bailey Loring, who afterward became distinguished in politics.
His meals were sent in from the hotel to the Shackford house, where the constables reported to him, and where he held protracted conferences with Justice Beemis, Coroner Whidden, Lawyer Perkins, and a few others, and declined to be interviewed by the local editor. To the outside eye that weather-stained, faded old house appeared a throbbing seat of esoteric intelligence.
Patient and gentle in his acceptance of the world's rebuffs, this he would not endure. He was afraid of Mr. Shackford, yet one day, when the preoccupied man happened to trample on a newly executed hieroglyphic, the child rose to his feet white with rage, his fingers clenched, and such a blue fire flashing in the eyes that Mr. Shackford drew back aghast. "Why, it's a little devil!"
Without paying any heed to Richard's amicable salutation, the old man left the shove sticking in the sod, and walked stiffly into the house. At another moment this would have amused Richard, but now he gravely followed his kinsman, and overtook him at the foot of the staircase. "Cousin Shackford, can you spare me five or ten minutes?" "Don't know as I can," said Mr.
Then one Durgin, a workman at Slocum's Yard, was called upon to explain some half-washed-out red stains on his overalls, which he did. He had tightened the hoops on a salt-pork barrel for Mr. Shackford several days previous; the red paint on the head of the barrel was fresh, and had come off on his clothes. Dr. Weld examined the spots under a microscope, and pronounced them paint.
Stone and myself; Mr. Frothingham, Mr. William Silsbee, Mr. Shackford, of Lynn, Mr. Pike, Mr. Streeter, and my husband, besides Mr. Stone and his son. Mr. Alcott said he would commence with the Nativity, and first read Milton's Hymn. Then he retreated to his corner, and for about an hour and three quarters kept up an even flow of thought, without a word being uttered by any other person present.
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