 We surely appreciate your presence here tonight as we present Lipses of a Simpler High. The setting is our own Worcester Village Cemetery. But if you folks could make it here tonight, you know it's kind of interesting that the thickest population of our little village here resides right here in this field. It started burying here back in 1831. But it wasn't the first burial ground. The first burial ground was right across the street. When this new cemetery opened in 31, it moved 20 bodies over here to our village cemetery. I reckon the first recorded birth here, or death rather, was that of 11-month-old Sybil Brown, the daughter of Ameson Sybil Stoddard Brown, died in April of 1817. This here is Ivy, my wife. Ivy Holmes King. Well, I'm Frank R. King. I'm the great digger. I buried a lot of folks here between 1900 and 1928. I had a fancy title called The Sexton, but most everybody called me the great digger. I guess I'll put some of the worst and some of the best here in Worcester and in the hold. Now my wife Ivy there, she's a little bit more, what can I say, a little bit more company. She's from the Holmes family, Clark and Harriet Holmes' daughter. Harriet was that Civil War nurse who lived here for, I think she was 104 when she died. Ivy always kind of resented the fact that her mother outlived her. That's where it goes. Well, you know, when we first started burying people, I got $5, great. I got pretty good at it. I could dig a hole in about two hours. That's pretty good money. Sometimes I didn't bury it at six feet, don't tell me. Well, then about 1920, after my back got to really hurt and bad, the select board gave me $20. That was pretty good. I could bury two or three people a day if I had to. Thank goodness we didn't have to. So then the press didn't come along and they cut me back to $7.50 again. Frank, Frank, these people don't care about you being a grand-dater. Just get on with it. Oh, hush, woman. I wrote this script so I can tell that people forever on loan. By 1873 it got pretty crowded in this cemetery and they bought an additional three and a half acres. And that gave us some breathing room. That could be just being silly now that they don't need no breathing room. Just get on with it. Let these folks have their say. All right. Good. I'll dig a hole for myself one of these days. Come on, then. Get on with it. Okay. I'll get on with it. What thought we'd do tonight? You know, me spending so much time there in the cemetery. I've made quite a few friends of some of the residents there. And I thought it'd be kind of interesting tonight if we invited some of those residents to gather here and talk about some of their old memories, old times. You know, I thought it'd be rather interesting. I found four or five, six that were interested in doing that. And I'm inviting them to come here tonight and we're just going to chat a while and maybe you'll learn something about their lives and a little bit about our local history and it'll just be all good things. You know, we won't be good. It's Friday night here in Worcester and they didn't have no dance tonight. So we decided we'd go ahead with this kind of thing. Come on, let's get on with it. All right, all right. So I'm going to introduce them to you. Hold your applause, really, until we get them all upstate because I don't want you to spook them, okay? That can happen. And some brownies. What are you? Lord knows. Be careful there. That's his son, Milton Brown. Oldest boy. I tell you, that's what I have. Milton, while you're up and keeping it in the family, so there was a son-in-law. That's frankly. Don't say that in my chair, boy. Don't thank me, don't practice this. There was a son-in-law, he married one of his daughters. That's what made him a son-in-law. I think we did it. That's in the contract anyway. So we got a... You didn't have a thankful hamlet this year tonight? You agreed to come in and sit for a while? Practicing right here and showing you what we can do. I'm not going to stop with shoveling. No, we'll shovel it out as much as we can, that's for sure. Okay, I think I can make it up here on the stage. Thank you. All right, I reckon we'll hear from Amos Brown first. You can't play out of your bed with that. Well, if there's anybody here in the cemetery who knows more about the early history of Worcester, I'd like to know who for you to see. My wife said the civil stop. Me and my wife's civil side had moved out here around 1812 when this place was on a white spot on the road. I don't think about it. I don't think there's any road here at the time. Well, we lived in Montpey in Lyon the five years after we came over here for about a month from Massachusetts. Montpey was growing at the time and getting two big first pressures out of me were concerned. Being the capital of the state and all, we moved out here to Worcester to buy some peace and quiet. Now, I reckon that was kind of wishful thinking on our part as we brought our six kids with us. Well, it weren't long before a civil gave birth to our seventh child. First born males, a child of year born in Worcester in October of 1813. Our baby boy, Winston, you know, his name was Martin Chippenden. If I had that many kids, I could have remembered you, right? You're doing good. We're named in Martin Chippenden because there's another fellow by that name in the government of the states that that boy was born. One year Republican? I don't know. Oh, they all work. Of course, we had three other sons. They're oldest, one Milton, who's gone here. And then there was Cyrus, and then there was... Yeah, I think so. Amis and Junga, his name was. They all learned how to work for themselves, too. Now, there was Cyrus, he went off to college and he came back and he was the first Worcester resident to become a bottom-five lawyer. That's oxymoron, isn't it? You'll be quiet. Then Amis and Junga, he went to seminary and he got himself ordained as a Baptist minister. Amen, hallelujah. He was a good individual. Got that. And then Young Martin, well, I don't know how he did it, but I think he's done pretty good. But he was only 14 when I founded me here. Well, I actually wasn't here. It was across the road in the older cemetery. And then in 1831, when this cemetery opened up, they moved a million civil over here. Finally, it opened up. You get no rest. Mama, it takes a lot of credit, huh? Well, around the time, about my son's belt, I'd better tell you, though, about my girls. I had four of them and all, you know. Our oldest one, Esther, and then there was all of them. And there was Pam Lerner and the civil force. Four little souls. They lived beyond 11 months old. She was a poor little girl. Esther married Olive Watson, a young fellow here in Pam Worcester. And that was the first wedding that was recorded here in Worcester in May of 1817. And then Pam Lerner, she married Franklin Johnson. And she died two years later in childhood. And then our second daughter, Olive, Olive, she married Johnson. Never could figure out why she did that, but she did. So, Emerson, you had the first child born. Then you had the first child to die. Then you had the first wedding. Why won't we call this place Brownsville? I don't know. Good thing I didn't know. Well, I guess it was going on not about the kids. But I've got to tell you about the winter of 1816, though. The winter? Yeah. You've got to understand that all the folks here looked at all 40 or so of us. We had to depend on how we could raise and grow on our little farms here to put food on the table. There weren't no stores or shops around, you know, at that time. So I never did hear anything about the winter, but what was the summer of 16? What was that about? Well, spring began with everything looking like it was going to be good year. By the first week in April, there were flowers bursting in color, and the trees were budding, and there was even the smell of new flood-grain ground licking into air. May had always came along, and it was cold there. A lot was dry, too, that month. But by the early of the first week in June, the temperature shot right up to 90 degrees. What was going on next week? We thought, surely everything's going to be okay, but it wasn't going to be too late to ruin the temperature points. And there was snow litter in the air. In June 7, snow was piling up, and in a few days we had to put a snowmower in the wind. It killed all the crops. There wasn't nothing to do after that, but replanting. We weren't sure we were going to do that again. But July was much better, frost about every week during the month of July. Then on August 21, it got a killing frost, and that had done away with the beans, the potatoes, and corn, and the mountains were snow-covered. By September, very little rain followed. Some of us had never received any precipitation about three months. In September 10, we had another killing frost. Now that word did not get blowed. What in the world did people did? Well, everybody moved out of town, except in one family. Me and my family stuck to hell. The only ones left here in town, too. Wow, really? We didn't have enough people, so even in the out-town meeting, about five years, we had the town go all over itself. Thank goodness, while Jean was planning for love, and the viewer abundant, once in a while he would even see it there. Thank God, my whole family before he was working good. You needed to tell me you got by from what you could get from the woods and streets? Well, mostly. But we took full advantage of the situation, but the better at all, we kept a few sheets, and we had to go to Austin, and have three cows. Being so much cleared land, around that amount, I went to 1,000,000 hives for those four or five more cows, and had to pay for it all a year for them, but we took those and turned them into our own stock, and we turned them right out on the whole town. There was plenty of butter we could make, and I found a really market for it, and they must have done it in person, and we'll come out and pay a year. Got 15 cents payment, too. Not bad. Well, it had a lot of steam milk for us, and we fed that to the hog, and we made a little pork shell. We've really done it prosper and done well in the world, if there is. We turned the misfortune of our neighbor, you might say, into our own benefit. Well, that's capitalism. We've done the lame-down thing if you've been here. Absolutely. Oh, my goodness. Is that Maybell Claustin coming out? Who invited her? Maybe she'll go away. You didn't even save a chair for me. Well, no reason, Maybell. Well, did you all hear about what happened over to John Young's place yesterday? John Young's place. Oh, my gosh. John was out working in the thicket, and he heard a big commotion over to the pink tent. Well, it had something to do with the pink, so he rushed to do but spy a big old bear and take on her. Well, John, he didn't want nothing to do with that kind of nonsense. He wanted to save that big old fat worker for himself. So he took the lever he'd been working with and he made that. And the bear. Well, I should have made him leave. And the bear. Well, I should have made him leave. Oh, maybe something like that. I didn't witness this. I just heard about it. So he took that lever, made out that bear, the bear to the woods, where he come from, and John and the pig were happy for the moment. Don't that just be all? It does. I reckon it does, you think so. I'm telling you, my oldest boy had a few stories he liked to tell, and well, he's right here. Lady, you can tell it through your first cell. As my dad said, Luther had no account meetings for at least the first five years, and was forced to reincorporate in 1821. The reorganization took place in our home March 28, 1821. My father was elected town clerk. I was appointed Justice of the Peaks, appointed first possible tax collector. He was pretty young then, weren't you? I was a 23-year-old in my political career, begun. Over the next 20 years, I would serve as Justice of the Peaks, over town representative for seven years, and a member of the Governor's Council in 1835. A few years in Washington County Sheriff for four years superintendent for Mont State Prison. Lock him up. Sometimes the politics were a bit much, more than once. I wondered if it was worthwhile. I heard you telling you had some big rough years early on. Sure did, I mean. Those years shortly after the reorganization were pretty difficult. My wife Hannah dialed childbirth in March 26. The child did not survive. My mother died three days later. My father passed in June of the year later. Well, it was a rough stretch. But I continued to live on the home place. Thanks for everything that mattered for me in December 27, 1827. That's when I mirrored Carolyn Leonard. We never had any children. I would have liked some. Most of you know that there was a terrible cancer on land at this time. Slavery. It was an evil that pretty much was prohibited by our state constitution, but unfortunately they didn't do it all together. There was quite a bit of controversy here in Vermont. Regarding whether slavery should be outright abolished, phased out slowly, or restricted to the south, slave owners would chase their escaped property into our state. And some of the federal laws allowed this terrible practice to continue. I wouldn't call myself a radical abolitionist first, but I gradually became such over the years. February 14, 1837. I attended the third annual meeting of the Vermont Anti-Slavery Society branded along with Artemis Richardson, Amos Rice, and Joel Numan. Joel Numan, all of the good men. Yes. I added my signature to a resolution we approved at that meeting. Resolve that we as abolitionists by the strength of God are determined not to rest until the heaven-daring sin of holding human beings as property shall be universally abolished. Well, speaking of slavery, did you hear about John Haywood? He's a clear ministered book. Yes, right. We have a slave owner for a neighbor. No. Yes, we knew. Don't even know the constitution of Vermont for a visit. I've got it in my right mind to march right up there and set him straight. You could do it, too. It just ain't right. Maybell, let him finish his story. He's more important than you to tell the dead. Thank you, I think. Mr. Haywood, the slave king of town, I was just 18 or 19. I didn't have much to do with either one of them, but I could tell by looking at this Negro fellow that he wasn't much older than me. And he was miserable and very lonely. He reminded me of a whip puppy hunkered down this tail tucked between his legs. Well, Mr. Haywood wasn't much welcome in our community. And much worse, he was just a few months. Good. He's gone. He did not return. Just seeing how that poor fellow was treated spurred me to do more than get sign of petition, I got involved in helping those unfortunate people get freedom. Here's how it worked. A friend, usually Gill and Dodge, a bootmaker in Montpelier, done for Colonel Johnston P. Miller, a person in the legislature in Montpelier's leading abolitionist, would let me know that a fugitive slave was needing some help getting through Vermont, and I would set up whatever was needed. A place to stay, a horse, or a wagon. I would set them up just outside my house, outside my, outside the Worcester village at my house. I would leave a lantern burning in the barn as the signal let them know all was right and safe. Well, let's work that flight into the barn, and I saw what you placed all the time. Yeah, it wasn't me and Carol. I can understand that. Some folks and I was taking a big, some folks thought I was taking a big risk unnecessarily. Bring danger to town, but I thought otherwise. If folks are so concerned about danger, they didn't have to look out ciders. My brother in law, all the Watson, wants to tell you about some serious danger born right here in Worcester. I guess he's going to tell you about them daughters. There she goes again. Back in 1828, they come across those, that's when they were good for nothing people. They come across the border from up there in Canada. They splotted here in Worcester. Couldn't they stay in? They took it to your free and easy. Well, they got away with that, but something like that. But then, we'd had enough of it. And the town... We had those sex people. They didn't want them either. That's right. Well, my claim to fame, the most famous thing, I think anybody's done, because I married Amis's other daughter. That's May 19, 1817. It's in the record books. The first marriage in Worcester. I'm really proud of that. I do like that. He's out of May 20th already. May 19th. It was a big celebration. And it was pent up demand. You heard about May 16th, May of 1816. You heard about that Well, here we had a chance to celebrate. And boy, did we celebrate. I think that ought to go on the record books too. Is there a way to do that? Must be. We'll get it taken care of. Oh, I take good record of it. Well, Reverend Wright came up from the congregational church in Montville, and he married us. And Esther and I had a parcel of children. About eight, I reckon. We're running. What's it really, eight? I saw something out here. I think you tried to keep up with a kid. She had a mom. I'm sure she remembered. So, life went on. Now, I was a carpenter. I learned my trade as a boy down in Connecticut from an English builder. And I came up here and did a lot of carpentry. And I even worked on the first state capital in Montville. And that being the record books too, except it burned down. Not that one. The second one burned down. The first one they pulled out. I know you don't remember that. That's okay. Since we got the curator here, I thought we'd better get it straight. He didn't tell me this. I was probably dead already. Actually, I wanted to be a grave digger, but the part was already taken. So, I grew old and worked here. Time went on. I became a town constable and didn't have much to do with that. What we did is we break up fights in the logging camps. We'd take the drunks home at night if they got a little too rambunctious. You know one don't you? What'd he say? It still knows about your home. At the time of the dead of year. Well, I couldn't change a lot. Didn't know where my baby was. I'm half deaf to self-care. So, things were like that. Not much going on in the Worcester, but really occasional fights and stuff. Until one fateful Sunday, it was August 9th, 1863. You can see I got a lot older at the time. It came a report of a heinous crime on eagle-edged. You're not going to talk about that grease and murder, are you? I have to. It's not my claim to fame, but it touches all of us. It happened here. We've been telling you all this wonderful stuff, but this really happened. She was only about 15, a really young woman named Mary Loomis. And she had convinced Amos' son, Cyrus, and my friend, the lawyer, that she was 18. And so, he married her off to Oral and Loomis. And... What was that guy's name? That Hinkson guy? Lyman. Lyman Hinkson came riding up on his horse. And he was all a bother about what had happened over on eagle-edged. So I went out with him, and it was pretty gruesome. I just can't get that out of my head. She was bruised and scratched and not a stitch of clothing on. Oh, my goodness. And there was a cloth tied around her neck to a branch on a bush trying to make it look like she committed suicide. But even I could tell that wasn't it. She had committed suicide. So we took her down to the town hall where the town doctor, Job Maycomer and a physician from Montpelier came up. They did a post mortem on her. And I'm looking back to see... Nothing. If she wasn't... there wasn't just those two men doctors that were with her. Well, it was private. They were the presence of Mrs. Lyman-Hixon. Oh, right. She had to be there because men doctors were doing that thing. Yeah, that's right. They were other people there. They found choke marks on her. They found all kinds of violations and abominable behavior. And we didn't know what was going to happen from there. But we had to think about how to solve the crime. So suspicion immediately fell on this fella in the car. In Royal. He was no good. He, uh, angered fella and never did anything with his life. Suspicion fell on him. So me and my buddy AC Crane we went over to to, uh, Royal Carr's house and talked to his parents. But they said he had been around for a few days. I'm not surprised. We were wondering where he might have got. We got up a few men and we went out and searched the evil edge area and didn't find him. So, uh, we weren't sure what we were going to do. But he, uh, he turned up in Greensboro and he got arrested there. And AC and I went in a wagon over to pick him up. And we brought him all the way back to Worcester. And on the way, we asked him about that crime. He allowed us how he had been participating in it. But the worst of the worst was done by her brother-in-law, Austin. So he said it. So he said it, right? So he said it. Yeah, so he said it. So that was, you know, Austin Loomis. So we arrested Austin and we took him and we took Royal down to the jail in Montpelier. Locked him up. Locked him up. And it turned out that, uh, Austin had a bullet-proof alibi and he had somebody who had witnessed where he was at the time of the crime. And there was no other evidence. So, finally, he was let go and never charged. What happened after that? Well, I'll watch this back. You know, there was pretty quick justice, uh, back that October of sixty-three the, uh, the trial happened in Montpelier. And just about everybody from Worcester was there. I bet. And, uh, they made me and AC testify as to what we had heard him say. And then those defense lawyers, they tried to get at us. They tried to cross-examine us and say we had made it up and that we had forced him to say that stuff. They ain't changed it. Good honest man like yourself. Not a bit of it was true. Well, I think we said the Royal Car was to be told the truth and it would go better for him if he did. Well, the trial convicted him of manslaughter. And he was sent around to Windsor Prison, uh, for ten years. We thought that was a pretty light sentence and that would be deserved more. What do you mean? What do you mean? What do I mean, deserved more? Well, we got proof that we were right. You know, because six years after he got out of jail, he was accused of killing another man. Apparently he took a fancy to the man's young wife. Do you see a pattern here? So, uh, this time they had pretty good proof. And they really convicted him. They convicted him of first degree murder this time. Not manslaughter like the other in Europe. So, uh, he was going to be convicted, they convicted him, and he was sentenced to die. And on August 29th, 1881 I was already in the ground, so I get this from Frank. I don't know what's accurate. He was hanged until dead. Far as I know he was the only one in Worcester who was ever hanged, but there were probably others who could deserve it. I don't know. Do I have something to say? You do. As the only thing I'm going to say, that might come as a surprise to you. I don't know. I might want to look at this basket. Maybe you've got something to eat. Well, to say there really was more good people in town than bad, but oh. And he was a good family. And those children Preach it! Preach it! I took nine. What a guy. This is a man. That's disgusting. He was a film for you. He was a remarkable man. I wish you'd all had a chance to meet him. And speaking of also was married to Coyah Guy. The cousin to his first wife, Lucy Culver. If you visit the cemetery, you can see which one of us is buried right beside Leonard. I want to tell you about my husband. Leonard is his name. Mom was born in Lebanon, Connecticut back in 1802. When he'd come of age, 21 years or so, he was quick to cut the apron strings and come up here to Worcester and made his pitch just down the river south of what you now call Village. Tournament Village then. Matter of fact, there's hardly more than a dozen families living in the entire town. Six or seven families lived on the road to Montpelier and another six or seven on the road to Elmore. Folks was still recovered from the year when there weren't no harvest. He cleared himself a plot of ground and built a cabin right near where Brent and Betty White presently lived. You might know them. You know them, don't you? No, you're too old. He took a wife in the winter of 1832 that Lucy called her from and they started a family. Lorenzo lived but two months. Eunice was born in 38 and lived but eight years. Martin was born next and he drove up to be a fine lawyer down in Lowell, Massachusetts. Another lawyer. Little Lucy was born in 49 but she got took by the fever in 52. The first Lucy died in 1861 at 55 years and a year later he was fortunate to find a second wife who in the final say he was the one that should be thankful. I guess people in Worcester would remember a letter for what he tried to grow here along with one of his brothers. It seemed like a good idea at the time because people sure liked to take the product made from the root of that. First of all the weather has to be just right to produce a good crop. Just enough rain and just enough warmth. That don't ever happen here in Vermont. Then hops grow on vines which grow as much as six inches in a single day. They have to be supported on tall poles mostly cedar posts they come from of course. They might climb as high as 25 or 30 feet. The method they tried was to set hardwood posts about 25 feet apart and then string wire between them forming a frame for which other wires ran to the ground. At harvest time the vines were pulled down and stripped of the hop pods or cones in order to fetch a good price the hops had to be properly dried and bailed to be shipped to a brewery in Burlington to be made into beer. What else would be interesting to make beer? It's Boy Leonard, a founding member of the Methodist Church. Shame on him! Seems like the old thing who wrote up the local happenings for the newspaper like to report on all of Leonard's foibles and misdeeds some of which I just assumed not had everybody know. We had a loom sap in the summer of 1870 that people thought was funny. He used a lot of iron anyway. We got up late at night He got up late at night as we older folks sometimes have to do and rather than use the chamber pot in his half a sleep stupor he decided to make his way to the back house. Secty opened the wrong door and took the tumble down into the cellar where he struck his head on a post at the bottom of the stairs He was cut up and bruised right badly and was quite sore for a few weeks how nifty I was to read an account of his call in the next week's Vermont Watchman with the concluding words The Follower Woke Him It wasn't that quiet I woke up the entire household That was such a hoot! Another time, two years later that same old biddy had to put in the paper that someone had crept into the garden the night before and made off with several of our best cabbages that we had particularly rode for crap was nothingness and any other garden that she could report on Oh my gosh, what in the world would want to eat so? Strange to me, she never put all the good learner done in that newspaper We lived right close to one of the best fishing holes on many occasions Leonard would have to run down to the river and pull some nearly drowned soul from going under for the last time Thirteen times he performed the duty of the rescuing angel and never once did that old biddy mention that in her little column Instead, the news had to wait for his obituary I bet he had more people show up for his funeral than she did You got two chances on that one there maybe they did maybe he did I don't know really the details but speaking of being dipped in the water I guess you heard about this preacher Look out now His name was Moses Folsom Oh, Moses Well, he got himself in a real pickle while back He just said some things he shouldn't have He said some evil things about members of the Methodist faith That's just sprinkling I just don't know all the details But what happened is to get that matter and you know what they told him Well, they just run him out Well, you know besides the Brown family the most common name in our cemetery is at I reckon we ought to hear from one of them Oh, do we have to? Catherine Mary Alice is divorced from her no good good for nothing horrible husband Would you believe he actually be her? Well, you know he did It was quite a scandal Any man who ever laid a paper I don't really, I don't worry about that That's never going to This is what Charles had to say Wake up, Charles It's my spot here when you all leave You watch your step, please Our heyday in Worcester I guess is probably about the middle of the 19th century Most of our people moved over here from Fetford, Vermont in the 1820s and we settled up on Minsterborough There was Jesse, Abraham Ephraim, Asa, and Titus all brothers and Nathan, Jonas both cousins and cousins of the aforementioned five Then there was my father, Daniel He came to Worcester in 1848 That's a lot of people And to make things even more interesting three of the Abbot brothers married three of the Bezel sisters and there were nine of those girls Nine of those girls Now, if y'all having trouble making sense of my description of my family well, I have never been able to figure out either, so don't worry about that But to be, I know I was related to all of them and I know that because I was born in Fetford in 1831 After we came to Worcester and I grew up, I served the town as postmaster for 20 years Town clerk and treasurer for 15 and a member in good standing of the congregational church for 25 years not the Methodist church We lived in a house just north of the present Worcester Post Office Now, I handed out the mail from our parlor so when I went to work in the morning all I had to do was walk from the kitchen to the living room and if anybody wanted to mail a package or pick up some postage they just knocked on the front door and we would invite them in My wife and then my son served as postmaster after my death for a total of 74 years and the first telephone in Worcester was installed in my house I sold it too over against it all the time I didn't live a long life departing to be with my savior during my 49th year Left your heart I did leave you folks a bit of a legacy if you're ever in a mind to read it In 1877 Abby Hemingway asked me to write a brief history of the town of Worcester for her Vermont historical magazine She published the magazine in four volumes and it covered every town and door in the state I was honored to be asked and enjoyed collecting the stories and tales about our early days I was still working on its composition when I died I'm sad to say no one ever finished it While I have a chance I wanted to tell you about some of my relatives 22 of them in all Oh no We got turning them in Yeah Number one My cousin Jonas was a charter member of the congregational church the first church formed in Worcester He invented a greatly improved beehive and would bring home blue ribbons every year from the Washington County Fair for his fine clover hunting Well loved His son Lucian Vail Abbott took an interest in medicine and played with our Worcester native physician Dr. Thaddeus V. Lad He graduated from the Vermont Medical College in Woodstock, Vermont at the top of his class but he never got to practice medicine because he died of consumption two days after his 23rd birthday I've been a good doctor My brother signed to C. Abbott followed the printing trade He learned his position as an apprentice at the old family Gazette and Bradford and then worked few places in Massachusetts He grew ill there and came back home to Worcester where he compiled and printed a little brochure with a long title called A Record of Births, Marriages and Deaths in Worcester, Vermont from October 18 October 21st 1813 to June 18th 1858 Fascinating reading Before consumption took him in 1858 Just a few months after Simon died, my little sister Sophronia was tragically taken away from us She had gone off in early May to work in the mills in New Hampshire and you all know about their mills Four weeks later her mortal remains were brought home to Worcester to the surprise and found aware of her short illness of only three days She was the victim of scarlet fever at 21 years and is right over there next to our mom, mother and dad So I guess us Abbott's have all died off here in Worcester unless you can find something to move back and the only place you might remember our legacy is here in the Billy's cemetery Oh my gosh What was I telling you? That you were going to be quiet? Did you know that Catherine Mary Ellis is husband and wife before she could have been arrested? He was really quite a bum Maybeth, what's this I hear about the tussle you have with Claire Pitkin in the middle door of Richardson has become the worst of that since we ain't seen you out Well I'm a king and mind your own business for once in your life this is terrible of course it happens interesting Well these are just a few of the voices that you hear from the residents of our Worcester Village Cemetery There are a lot more interesting stories from characters residing there what you heard tonight is just a sampling things have certainly changed since days of old no longer do you have a sexton who is responsible for the diggy now you have a cemetery commission that handles all the details but don't forget that your cemetery is a reflection of the pride that we feel in our little community it is a place of serenity and respect usually a place where we can think about the past and teach our young about the legacy of those who came before them and you just might learn something new when some of those characters get their turn to tell their story next 4th of July when Worcester Voices resumes oh and by the way thanks for helping clean up some of our gravestones last summer I think there may be a few more that are going to need your attention pretty soon thank you very much