Quincy Adams Sawyer and Masons Corner Folks | Page 8

Charles Felton Pidgin
was often called the "Professor" because he was the
singing-master of the village and gave lessons in instrumental and
vocal music. The love of music was another bond of union between
Strout and Stiles, for the latter was a skilful, if not educated, performer
on the violin.
The Professor was about forty years of age, stout in person, with
smooth shaven face and florid complexion. In Eastborough town
matters he was a general factotum. He had been an undertaker's
assistant and had worked for the superintendent of the Poorhouse. In
due season and in turn he had been appointed to and had filled the
positions of fence viewer, road inspector, hog reeve, pound keeper, and
the year previous he had been chosen tax collector. Abner Stiles said
that there "wasn't a better man in town for selectman and he knew he'd
get there one of these days."
To those residents of Mason's Corner whose names have been given,
whose homes have been described and some whose personal
peculiarities have been portrayed, must be added a late arrival. The
new-comer whose advent in town during Christmas week had caused

so much discussion at the rehearsal in the old red schoolhouse, and
whose liberality in providing a hot supper with all the fixings for the
sleighing party from Mason's Corner, when it arrived at the Eagle Hotel
at Eastborough Centre, had won, at a bound, the hearts of the majority
of the younger residents of Mason's Corner. The village gossips
wondered who he was, what he was, what he came for, and how long
he intended to stay. If these questions had been asked of him personally,
he might have returned answers to the first three questions, but it would
have been beyond his power to have answered the fourth inquiry at that
time. But the sayings and doings of certain individuals, and a chain of
circumstances not of his own creation and beyond his personal control,
conspired to keep him there for a period of nearly four months. During
that time certain things were said and done, certain people were met
and certain events took place which changed the entire current of this
young man's future life, which shows plainly that we are all creatures
of circumstance and that a man's success or failure in life may often
depend as much or even more upon his environment than upon himself.
CHAPTER III.
THE CONCERT IN THE TOWN HALL.
It was the evening of New Year's day, 186--. The leading people, in
fact nearly all the people of the three villages forming the town of
Eastborough, were assembled in the Town Hall at Eastborough Centre.
The evening was pleasant and this fact had contributed to draw together
the largest audience ever assembled in that hall. Not only was every
seat taken, but the aisles were also crowded, while many of the younger
citizens had been lifted up to eligible positions in the wide window
seats of the dozen great windows on three sides of the large hall.
The large attendance was also due in part to the fact that a new and
original musical composition by Mr. Strout, the singing-master, would
be sung for the first time in public. Again, it had been whispered up at
Hill's grocery at Mason's Corner that the young city fellow who was
boarding at Deacon Mason's was going to be present, and this rumor
led to a greatly increased attendance from that village.

The audience was a typical one of such communities at that period;
horny-handed farmers with long shaggy beards and unkempt hair,
dressed in ill-fitting black suits; matronly looking farmers' wives in
their Sunday best; rosy-cheeked daughters full of fun and vivacity and
chattering like magpies; tall, lank, awkward, bashful sons, and
red-haired, black-haired, and tow-headed urchins of both sexes, the
latter awaiting the events of the evening with the wild anticipations that
are usually called forth only by the advent of a circus.
The members of the chorus were seated on the large platform, the girls
being on the right and the fellows on the left. A loud hum of
conversation arose from the audience and chorus, a constant turning
over and rattling of programmes gave a cheerful and animated
appearance to the scene. The centre door at the rear of the platform was
opened and all eyes were turned in that direction, the chorus twisting
their necks or turning half 'round in their seats.
Professor Strout entered and was greeted with a loud burst of applause.
He wore a dress suit that he had hired in Boston, and there was a large
white rose in the lapel of his coat. He was accompanied by Miss Tilly
James, the pianist, who wore a handsome wine-colored silk dress that
had been made for the occasion by
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