The Boston Almanac of 1844 has pages devoted to twelve of the principal cities and towns of the state, and Fitchburg, which was then becoming somewhat known (from the famous inquiry, "Crocker, where is Fitchburg?") was given a page. A full list of its town officers, etc., is given, its manufacturers, population 3000, fourteen public schools and three private schools or academies; and mentions that the Boston & Fitchburg railroad terminates in the center of this town, has been completed to Waltham, and it is calculated will be finished in the autumn of this year. "There are eleven stores, two book stores, two jewelry stores, two tin shops, one hat store, and two merchant tailors."

In December, 1844, (Nathan) Tolman & (Sullivan G.) Proctor opened an iron store in the old Stone Mill store on Laurel street; Daniel Emory & Co. offer hats at No. 7 Merchants row; Leverett & Co., clothing, at No. 13 Cheapside, and Thayer & Co., clothing, next door to meat market, a few doors south of Fitchburg Hotel.

In March, 1845, the looked-for railway train arrived from Boston, and a new era was opened to the merchants of Fitchburg by the impetus given to the growth of the town and the increased facilities for the transaction of business over the slow transportation of everything by team to and from Boston. The old country store of our grandfathers' days began to disappear, as did also the stage coach and teamster, and like them, can never be revived. It filled an important place in the village life as the meeting place of the townspeople.

I cannot better close this chapter than by quoting some reminiscences of those who remember when the country store was in its glory. Entering through a narrow door, the customer found himself in a room whose unplastered walls and ceiling crossed by beams were thickly hung with all sorts of goods. The shelves, from

floor to ceiling, were filled with such articles as a plain people would call for, the dry goods being arranged with an eye to effect with different colored fabrics in contrasting streaks, fresh goods upheaving the old and easily traced in strata, while fancy articles hung from hooks in the partitions of the shelves. From under the counter came cotton batting and factory yarn, and the woolen skeins spun by farmers' wives. There was no show window display, as is customary at the present day. Many remember the calicoes of those days, deep dyed in indigoblue and red, the bandanna handkerchiefs mottled with white, the cotton thread, knotted in hanks and exhausting the best range of color. There was no "commercial traveler" in those days, bringing his samples to the merchant's door, but twice a year the trip to Boston by stage was made to buy new stock. Its arrival was as great an event as the "openings" of to-day, the women taking samples of the calicoes, which they washed and hung from their windows to dry, to test the colors. They were makers of rare bargains, buying stuffs which brought solid comfort, washing well and wearing well; the silk and sheen, which were their real texture, were imparted to them by the satisfaction they had in them. Country maidens fitted their calicoes with care and wore them with exquisite neatness; if they overrated the fineness of the fabric, their worldly ignorance helped them to be satisfied and happy with small things. In a row of drawers were kept the few pieces of silk and webs of lawn and lace. The lawn was of good quality, and from it, when her time came, she who had never known gay attire was sure to have her last robe decorously fashioned by loving neighbors. From the lace were made the caps worn by matrons past middle life, the borders being prettily wrought with floss. Such webs were apt to get "shop worn," with yellow streaks and indelible creases, positive

toothmarks of time; but there were no "bargain sales on account of these brands of long possession. The storekeeper always assured the women they would "wash" or "wear" out. He may have had an artist's eye for the mellowing of his goods, and loved that creamy tint which creeps along its folds into the meshes of old lace-indeed into all long-woven, undyed fabrics.

A peculiar odor pervaded the place, sometimes of molasses, sometimes of fish, and again of tea and coffee, with a faint scent of snuff or a strong smell of New England rum, when the trap door to the cellar was lifted, where were also kept the butter and pork. The spigot of the molasses hogshead, at the rear of the store, seemed always drizzling into the tin measure, which in summer time made an excellent fly trap. The molasses had a yeasty trick of foaming, and once in a while it sugared.

The little box of a counting room had its walls zigzagged with broad tape, a receptacle for bills and letters, many yellow with age, while the uppermost, with faded labels, had served as roosts for generations of flies.

The candies of those stores were a delight to the children, who looked at the red and white sticks in the brassmounted jars with longing eyes. These candies might be rather stale, but to the buyers a freshness was imparted to them by their rarity.

The country store served as the village debating society, and around the stove of winter evenings the discussion was of topics forestalling the weather, of farm stock and produce, of sickness, of the prices, praising the work of wives and daughters, and criticising the latest sermon. The people loved discussion, and party spirit ran high. Affairs of state and nation were handled with crude but clear logic; especially before town meeting many important questions were earnestly considered. Many of the company were tireless whittlers, keeping the store

keeper well supplied with kindlings. Unoccupied composure is said to be the outcome of polite society, and the whittling of the store loiterer simply the force of the habit for work oozing from his fingers' ends. The store of a late autumn day was often like a miniature fair, and the storekeeper and his clerk had not a minute to spare from his twine or yardstick. The farmers' wagons, driving up with their butter, eggs and produce, departed with lighter bundles, and the occupants with quicker steps, they having been enlivened by the sight of new goods, the meeting with old friends, hearing the latest news, and going away refreshed. Promptly at 9 o'clock the store closed its door and talkers and listeners went home.

How many can remember such a store, over whose threshold the stream of village life in by-gone days had worn its path? All this seems homely, but we may search in vain to-day in our city streets for the mellow, pleasant aspect of the old-time country store, with its hospitality, simplicity and comradeship.

THE OLD STORES OF FITCHBURG.

PART II. 1845-1864.

Read at a Meeting of the Society, May 21, 1900.

BY FREDERICK A. CURRIER.

The Worcester County Gazette in 1845 has the following:

"Fitchburg has grown rapidly in the last two years, and will doubtless continue to grow. It can hardly be called a beautiful place, not having a single element of beauty. It can't be said to be laid out at all, but the first settlers built where the footpaths of the cattle led, from the hills to the stream which winds through the valley. There are some good buildings, but most of them have the appearance of having been erected in the dark, the proprietor not knowing that any other one was building in his neighborhood. We dislike a monotonous sameness such as characterizes Philadelphia, but the other extreme is no less disagreeable."

The Sentinel replies: "The editor's account of the appearance and arrangement of our town shows plainly that he has no taste for the picturesque and beautiful. Why, he is the first who has ever been known to find fault with our beautiful village."

In 1845 Torrey & Wood's block, corner of Main and Central streets, was erected. A. F. Beaman removed to the store now occupied by Mr. Benjamin; J. F. Stiles commenced his long business career in the store now occupied by R. R. Conn, which he occupied with S. H. Goodnow, jeweler, and Stephen & Charles Shepley removed their