Frag­ments Of The Past

Stanstead Journal - - NEWS - Spe­cial Col­lab­o­ra­tion Mer­rick Belk­nap

Death caused by in­tem­per­ance From The Stanstead Jour­nal, May 3, 1876:

Dr. Paget, of Stanstead, died very sud­denly at Stud­dert’s Ho­tel where he resided. He had been on one of his pe­ri­odic drink­ing bouts and was a good deal un­der the in­flu­ence of liquor dur­ing the day, driv­ing about the streets, etc. Between 11 and 12 o’clock he en­deav­oured to get liquor at Stud­dert’s, but be­ing re­fused, be­came noisy and was taken to his room by Mr. Stud­dert, who ad­vised his to go to bed. He lay down on his bed and a short time after­ward, Mrs. Paget found him dy­ing.

She gave the alarm, but he died al­most in­stantly. An in­quest was held at which it was de­ter­mined that death was caused by the in­tem­per­ate use of in­toxleat­ing liquors.

Ellen Stud­dert, the pro­pri­etor’s daugh­ter, was said to be a fa­mous beauty. She kept a milliner’s shop in the north end of the ho­tel and at her es­tab­lish­ment, Mrs. Aikens and Miss Colby some­times pur­chased their hats. From Vi­tal Statis­tics (1876-1890):

At Stanstead, Septem­ber 30, 1879, of hem­or­rhage (sic), Joseph H. Stud­dert ho­tel keeper, aged 43 years. The story of mud and death A let­ter to the Stanstead Jour­nal of April 6, 1844, reads in part: Mr. Pat­ton one day stood on the side­walk in front of our house and told me of his early ex­pe­ri­ences. He said the mud in Stanstead street was ei­ther three or six feet deep. Build­ing was very brisk up the street and they hauled loads of lum­ber and stone through this mud with twelve yokes of oxen on each wagon. I may have ex­ag­ger­ated slightly about the depth of the mud, but I won’t elim­i­nate an oxen – not one!

Now I would like to tell some­thing I heard out in Chicago about the early days in Stanstead. There was an old man by the name of Adams who told me he lived at Stanstead, and that he saw the stage come in from Bos­ton on a cold win­ter day. Four horses trot­ted up the street; they came to the old ho­tel at the up­per end of the Plain, swung a wide cir­cle around the door of the ho­tel and stopped. The hostlers came out and the men came out from the ho­tel, but the driver didn’t dis­mount. He was dead, frozen stiff.

I have of­ten thought of those horses trot­ting up the street and swing­ing around to the ho­tel with­out be­ing reined.

To be con­tin­ued

Newspapers in English

Newspapers from Canada

© PressReader. All rights reserved.