member of the latter fraternity in the Bay colony. Two of his great-grandcity. Mr. Folsom has been twice married. His first wife was Olive B. Robinson of Gilford, and of four children only one now survives, Mrs. Samuel B. Smith. His second wife was Miss Imogene F. Harris of Franconia, and they have one daughter, Miss Alberta. SIMEON CHENEY FRYE, city clerk of Laconia, was born in Sanbornton, April 26, 1865, a son of Jonathan J. and Ruth H. (Leavitt) Frye, and is a lineal descendant of Thomas Dudley, second governor of Massachusetts fathers were Revolutionary soldiers. He was educated at the New Hampton institution, and came to Laconia in January, 1887, as bookkeeper in O'Shea Bros.' store and hosiery mill. He left this firm in March, 1890, to engage in the "ice harvest," caused by a famine of frozen water down country, which resulted in a boom in this industry in Laconia and vicinity. From January 1, 1891, he was with Coburn & Leavitt as bookkeeper until the firm went out of business, and then entered the office of the Crane Manufacturing Co., Sep tember, 1893, as bookkeeper, and remained with them until elected city clerk March 29, 1894. Mr. Frye has been reëlected city clerk at each subsequent election and still holds the position, in which he has served with great efficiency. His books and records are models of neatness and correctness, and in the discharge of his official duties he has no superior in New Hampshire. He was auditor of state treasurer's accounts in 1897, appointed by Governor Busiel. Mr. Frye is connected with several of the secret and fraternal orders. He is a member of Mt. Lebanon Lodge, No. 32, A. F. & A. M., of which at the present time he is junior warden. He is also a member of Chocorua Lodge, No. 51, I. O. O. F., and of Granite Lodge, No. 3, Ancient Order of United Workmen, of which latter organization he has been recorder since 1892. It is here that the celebrated DR. J. ALONZO GREENE of Nervura fame, who has done so much for the development of the state in other directions, has been giving free course to enterprise of late, he having purchased Hotel Weirs, and greatly enlarged and improved the same, making it one of the largest and finest summer hotels in the state. It is equipped in first-class order in every respect, and under the management of the popular and experienced landlord, Col. Freeman C. Willis, has already established a reputation second. LIFE'S PATH. By Ormsby A. Court. Fair fringed the path that strays through meadows lush, Embowered with greens that intertwining, lace. Up, up the hill the path now turns and twists Now on the crest the path rests, sighs, and weeps, Amongst the trees that skirt the wooded deep, AN OLD HOUSE AND ITS TRADITIONS. HE bar room was a large, square room, with windows facing south and west, an old-fashioned fireplace extended half way across one side, and on the other side was the entrance into a spacious hall. It was wainscoted from floor to ceiling, and painted in Spanish brown. This grandmother's room, and her room was the children's room. Her presence was its constant light, for the infirmities of age had deprived her of the use of her limbs, and she left it only once a year for a brief visit to a daughter who lived half a mile away. Then she was lifted in her chair upon a stone drag, which was drawn by oxen. Grandmother's room was a place of refuge to which the little folks of the house could flee when childish troubles vexed them elsewhere. Here they always found solace and sympathy. Here they could indulge in sports that were prohibited in rooms where the household duties were performed. Nothing ever disturbed the tranquil old lady's equanimity, and around her hearthstone many were the arrows shaped to shoot imaginary Indians, many the leaden bullets molded to kill makebelieve bears. This room was not only a safe retreat and a play-ground, but it was also a story depository. It was a group of eager listeners that gathered about the cheerful fire of logs, while grandmother beguiled the hours of the long winter evenings by relating incidents of the Revolutionary War, Indian traditions, and stories of pioneer life. The bar room," modernized, is in a large farmhouse, situated in a rural town of central New Hampshire; the town borders upon the Merrimack river. The main house is a square, three-storied, substantial building. The L is one storied. Large elms and maples on the east, south, and west afford grateful shade from the summer's heat, while on the north side of the house a double row of firs breaks the force of the winter storms. The house stands on the brow of a hill at the foot of which runs a charming brook. This, when swollen by the melting snows of the springtime, rushes along with the force of a torrent, but in midsummer is often dried to a purling rill. The L is one of the first frame houses built in the town, and is more than a century and a half old. It has three rooms, kitchen, meal room,' and cheese room." The main house was added about thirty years later for a "tavern stand." Situated on the stage route from Concord to Plymouth, and at a convenient distance from the former place, the house had a liberal patronage, and the arrival of the stage three times a week bringing the mail, the news from the outside world, and "travelers," who lodged for a night, was an event of no slight interest. But the railroad came, the stage-coach disappeared, the tavern closed its doors. The bar room, however, retained its name long after the tavern sign was taken down. A mile to the west of the house, across an interval or meadow, is the site of an old fort. Here, until 1865, stood the original garrison house of the town, a square, two-storied building, with loop holes through which guns could be fired. alarm of Indians the inhabitants repaired to the fort. In case of an The traditions of the old house or L date back to the time of the French and Indian wars. To the original inhabitants of this place the warwhoop was a not unusual sound, and the tomahawk and scalping knife not unfamiliar sights. It was a frontier town, an unbroken forest extending to the north and northeast. What wonder then that the early settlers gave it a name which signifies Stronghold of the woods." The extensive forests were not only good hunting ground, but there was excellent fishing in the many ponds and brooks. For this reason Indians were accustomed to frequent it. So troublesome did they sometimes become, and so much were the farmers interrupted in their work, that they were compelled to call in help from neighboring towns; armed men standing sentinel while the fields were being plowed and planted. In the year 1757 the red men were an unusual terror, the war in which they were then engaged as allies of the French, rendering them especially hostile to Englishmen. The family, which at this time occupied the house we have described, consisted of Mr. Thomas and his wife Mary, five children, the youngest a boy four years old, a boy by the name of Jackson, nephew of Mr. Thomas, and two negro slaves, Pomp and Dorset. The house stood near the frontier, and was especially exposed to an enemy. Mrs. Thomas on returning home one day, after a brief absence, found a formidable looking Indian in her cellar drinking milk from a pan. He was evidently greatly in fear of detection, for he was much agitated, his hands trembling violently as he held the pan to his lips. He did not see Mrs. Thomas, and she very wisely preferring her safety to an Indian's scalp quietly left the house. Several Indians were discovered one evening lurking about the premises of a neighbor, without doubt, intending to kill or capture the inmates of the house, while asleep. To escape to the garrison was impossible. Some plan to rout them must be devised. They were equal to the emergency. Equipped with tin pans, dinner horns, pails, kettles, and other kitchen implements, they went to the door. At the signal "Stand to your arms," all rushed out of the house and beat their pans and kettles with the energy of men whose lives were at stake. This put the reds to flight, and the family was not again molested. In another quarter of the town, two men had been fired upon by the Indians who were lying in ambush behind a large log. One escaped uninjured, the other received a wound from a poisoned arrow, and died in great agony. Scouts often came upon beds of coals, where the enemy had roasted corn and cooked their game. coming bold, and the inhabitants thought it prudent to retire to the fort. Here a close watch was kept for some time. No Indians were seen. Provisions were getting short, the men were growing weary of confinement, and were desirous of returning to their fields. The red men were be Mrs. Thomas, believing that the enemy had left the place, went one morning to her house to make preparations for the return of her family. Upon opening her meal chest she discovered that a considerable quantity of meal had been taken in her absence. It was apparent who had committed the theft. Indians might then be concealed in or about the house. No time must be lost. She must make her escape, hasten to the fort, and put the inhabitants again on their guard. Going to the door she called loudly, "Boys, boys. Come, come quickly," and continuing to call thus she passed along the frontier, where she narrowly escaped falling into an ambuscade, crossed the meadow, and reached the garrison in safety. Dorset and Jackson had gone from the fort early the same morning to the Thomas farm to hoe corn in a field in the rear of the house. This field was enclosed on two sides by a high log fence, on another side was a dense forest. Glad of their release from confinement the boys were in fine spirits, and work, this bright June morning, was more a pastime than toil. Jackson was at intervals |