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Tag Archives: Chenango River

EPINETUS AND THE LACHRYMOSE

26 Friday Aug 2016

Posted by Waldo "Wally" Tomosky in Short Stories

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

Canal Boat, Chenango Canal, Chenango County, Chenango River, Chenango Valley, Erie Canal, Greene NY, lachrimosa, lachrymosa, Mozart

another short story of mine moved to this blog

A Supernatural Story

The story of Epinetus Birdsall has been fragmentarily written in several official books. That is typical of those who do not write of themselves. Others write their stories for them. The writers do this in such documents as the United States Census, the Chenango American newspaper, the records of the county poor farm and a variety of town, county and state histories. The story you are about to read is what I know and have surmised about Epinetus.

Henry Birdsall, Epinetus’ grandfather, moved his family from the New York/Connecticut border to a beautiful piece of land in the township of Greene, New York. The year was 1814 and the wagon trip via the half-finished Susquehanna Turnpike was miserable. The trip took three weeks and two fingers from the left hand of his oldest son. His grandson, Epinetus was not yet born. Henry was accompanied on this move by two sons, eight-fingered Henry Jr.  and Horace (who was more artistic than physical). There were also several daughters, and his wife, Abashaby.

Henry’s family cleared their river flat along the banks of the Chenango River. The upland part of their parcel remained virgin forest except for a few oaks which Henry had selected as beams for the home and barn. They were a Quaker family and lived by their own culture. One other family lived within walking distance from them; the Abram Storms. Abram had moved into this newly opened “Indian Territory” a few years previous. Although Abram was not a Quaker, he and Henry formed an immediate bond.

In the following ten years they were joined by two other families; that of Jean Guilliame de Besse and that of Dewey David. Jean Guilliame de Besse was a well educated man from France who had spent his youth in Spain and a few intermediate years as an international shipper. After several episodes of being pirated de Besse had lost his business and his fortune. He settled on the banks of the Chenango with his books, his wife, his beautiful daughter, and a deep love for trapping and fishing. Dewey David seemed more intent on building a fortune as a farmer. David’s namesake son, Dewey D. David, was the workhorse that the elder David used to reach his ambitions. Young David never had a childhood to enjoy.

Horace Birdsall married Triphosia and had a daughter and one son; Epinetus. The Chenango Canal was built in the early 1830’s when Epinetus was about ten years old. The canal cut through the properties of all four families. The elder David saw the canal as another method of making money. Henry Birdsall saw it as an intrusion upon his culture and his property. Henry’s vision was not disappointed. The canal-men brought vulgar language and habits with them. He was mortified to have his children exposed to this lack of decency.

David opened up his home (as a makeshift inn) to these men and the concubines that seemed to always be in tow. Young David was exposed to this raw part of humanity. Young Dewey David observed these faults of basic-man and they eventually formed a scab on his sensitivity. His childless past had already erased his ego. Young Dewey D. David’s only joy was wringing the necks of the passenger pigeons. His father made him net them in large numbers to be sold in Binghamton.

Epinetus was entering puberty when his Grandfather died. The Quaker culture of the Birdsalls had faded; some of it due to exposure to the canal people and the rest due to lack of strong-willed leadership.

Triphosia and Horace allowed a relative of Jean Guilliame de Besse to take Epinetus on a trip to New York City. It took a few days to make the trip up the canal to Utica. A subsequent short leg on the Erie Canal put them on the Hudson River. The next day they landed in New York. The de Besse relative had some business to tend to in the financial district.

The following Sunday (before leaving New York) the de Besse relative took Epinetus to visit a newly-built stone cathedral. A high mass was scheduled and the two sat quietly and listened to the beautiful organ music which was a prelude to the mass. The entrance hymn was played and Epinetus was entranced by the procession of the priests and alter servers. The mass continued through the readings and Gospel. As the communion was about to be served the organ master played Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s “Lachrymose.”  The choir joined in and the music, step by step, reached a crescendo that Epinetus could never have imagined. Then the music suddenly dropped an octave in tone and a much slower pace. The music then picked up its tone and its volume; step by step until the crescendo seemed to reach an even higher point.

Epinetus had no idea what was happening to him and neither did the de Besse who was watching over him. Epinetus’ eyes rolled upward into his skull, he fainted and fell to the floor, smashing his forehead onto the oaken pew in front of him.

It was quite some time before anyone could waken Epinetus. They had carried him to the back of the cathedral and laid him on a Hudson-Bay blanket. When he awoke, a stained glass window with the impaled body of Jesus was staring down at him. Epinetus stayed motionless until he was able to gather his wits. The de Besse and a few of the congregation, once assured that Epinetus was over his spell, allowed him to get to his feet. Young Epinetus and the de Besse relative walked toward the dock. They were just in time to catch the boat for the first leg of their return trip.

Neither Epinetus nor the de Besse ever mentioned the fainting spell that occurred during the performance of the Lachrymose. There appeared no need to worry Epinetus’ parents about the single occurrence. Neither de Besse nor Epinetus realized the deep effect that the music had on his soul or his extra senses.

A few years passed before Epinetus was to hear the Lachrymose again. It was a beautiful fall day. Epinetus sat on an old log that lay in the dark woods at the top of the hill overlooking the family farm. He was entering manhood and as he sat there he wondered about the changes he was experiencing. The woods were calm and peaceful.

Epinetus did not realize that young  Dewey D. David was also in the Birdsall woods; seeking to kill whatever wildlife he could. The pigeons were not migrating and young David had no necks to twist and break. But he did spot Epinetus sitting on the log and was anxious to shoot at something. David decided that Epinetus would suffice for this urge.

As David stealthily stalked him, Epinetus was unaware of it. Suddenly Epinetus experienced a very strange feeling. Then, oddly enough he heard, as clearly as if he were in the New York City cathedral, the organ playing the Lachrymose, as well as the choir accompanying it. Note by note the music reached its crescendo. The volume of the choir and organ increased in lock-step with the ascending music. Then – – – that dreadful pause that Mozart had placed on mankind – – – followed by a lowering of the tone and the timing; only to repeat the triple  crescendo of timing, tone and volume once more.

Epinetus’ eyes rolled back into his head as he experienced the Lachrymose for the second time. He neither heard the “crack” of David’s rifle nor felt the pain of the rifle ball that tore a hole in his scalp. Epinetus awoke at dusk. His hair was matted in blood and dead leaves were glued to it. He was able to get to his feet and make his way down the hill. As he approached the family compound he could hear his family calling for him. Luckily the ball grazed his skull and he would survive. His blood-soaked shirt belied the physical damage done to him. It did not lie about the psychological damage.

The truth never emerged about what young David had done to Epinetus. However, over the years people assumed what they believed to be the truth. David’s reputation was born out of known facts. He was involved in several horrible acts of violence that had occurred in 1849 when he rushed to California seeking a fortune in gold. This was followed by the murder of his wife and brother-in-law upon his return to the township of Greene. David saved Chenango County the cost of a murder trial by killing himself.

Epinetus carried on his life encumbered by his experiences and the unexplainable reoccurrence of the Lachrymose. The Birdsall compound was his refuge and he never wandered far from it. It was four years since he had been shot.

One late winter day he heard a deep growling noise coming from the river. He left the barnyard and walked over a small knoll to where he could observe the water. There was no water to be seen. The Chenango River was covered with thick blocks of ice that had broken lose upstream and floated down. This occurred due to an early thaw. Mixed in with the ice were several large trees that had been ripped from the river bank. The ice blocks churned and ripped at the trees. This is what had caused the growling noises that Epinetus had heard. He watched for a long time, mesmerized by the force of the water and ice.

That night the members of the Birdsall family took turns watching the river. The ice had created a dam and this caused the river to rise; threatening their homes. In the morning the river level stabilized and slowly fell. The thaw ended as fast as it started and the river ice froze in place. The trees were captured in the forceful grip of ice.

Later that week Epinetus walked down to the rivers edge to inspect his boat. He had forgotten about it and started to worry that the large ice blocks may have damaged it. Luckily it had been pulled high enough up the river bank and the ice had not reached it. This boat was Epinetus’ connection to the Terwilliger family who lived across the river. He had not seen his boyhood friend, Peter, since the beginning of winter. Epinetus returned to his home and told his father, Horace, that he was going to cross the river-ice and visit Peter. Although his father was anxious about the ice he was happy to hear that Epinetus wanted to get outdoors and away from the family compound. He agreed to Epinetus’ wish on the condition that they checked out the strength of the ice together.

Horace hung on to one of the trapped trees as he tested the ice close to shore. The ice was frozen solid. He directed Epinetus to hang on to the branches of the trees as he walked across the river. Epinetus was smiling from ear to ear; as only a young man would when on an adventure. He was about ten feet from shore when he heard those fearful and dreaded notes of the Lachrymose.  A loud groan escaped from the ice beneath his feet. The whole river shook and moved at the same time. The ice dam was breaking up.

Horace yelled to Epinetus “come back” but it was too late. Epinetus’ spell of the Lachrymose had overtaken him. He had fallen down. The ice started tumbling in various parts of the river. The piece under Epinetus revolved, ever so slowly, and trapped his legs against the tree. Epinetus’ coat snagged on a branch and it kept him from being dragged under. Even in his semi-conscious state Epinetus could still hear Mozart’s black music rising in tone, volume and beat. The choir voices seemed clearer than ever. The music blocked out the pain of ice tearing at his legs. And then that dreadful pause that the genius Mozart had injected occurred once more. Again the voices and organ dropped and restarted, deeper than before. Strangely the escalation of volume and beat that brought the music from darkness had transformed it to a glorious and beautiful height.

Horace realized his son could not help himself. Leaping onto the tree he quickly worked his way out to where Epinetus was trapped between the branches and the ice. The father grabbed his son by the belt and yanked his legs free from the ice that gnawed at his son’s flesh. Once Horace had the coat free from the branch he was able to balance himself on the tree trunk and drag Epinetus back to shore.

The blood from Epinetus’ legs dripped from the tips of his shoes as Horace carried him toward the house. Horace normally did not have the strength for such a task but found a reserve as he half-ran, half-stumbled on the pathway. The crimson trail of fresh blood on the snow went unnoticed until later in the day.

Epinetus suffered no broken bones but had several deep gashes on his legs. One kneecap was exposed. Grandmother Abashaby and his mother Triphosia tended to the wounds with herbal compresses and boiled linen rags. It was early spring before Epinetus was able to walk in the fields and woods again.

Over the years Epinetus had several other brushes with death and each time they were immediately preceded by the dark yet glorious Lachrymose. Epinetus never talked about the phenomena with anyone; not even his parents. The years passed and Epinetus’ physical health had deteriorated from these near-death traumatic experiences. His mental acuteness remained but he became overly fearful.

That particular branch of the Birdsall family eventually dissipated due to the lack of males to carry on the name. Epinetus’ aunts moved to other villages and he could not care for himself. The Chenango County home for the indigent (Preston Manor) took Epinetus into its care in the late 1880’s.

One winter day Epinetus was sitting in the great room of “The Manor” when an aid came in to tell him that he had a visitor. Epinetus was pleased when he saw that it was the same Mr. de Besse who had taken him to New York City fifty years ago. They talked for some time before the subject of the cathedral came up. It was Epinetus who raised the subject.

“Do you remember that time when we went to New York City and I passed out in the cathedral?” asked Epinetus.

“Yes I do” responded de Besse. “Even though you were the one who passed out that was the strangest experience I ever had.” Continuing on he said “When they played that song, which I later determined was Mozart’s ‘Lachrymose’, I felt myself becoming very weak. I still think it strange.”

“Well, Mr. de Besse, you will think it even stranger when I tell you my story” responded Epinetus.

And with that Epinetus launched into the lengthy tales of his experiences and the Lachrymose. He related the Dewey D. David story, the experience when caught in the ice flow and several other similar experiences that I was also privaleged to hear. However, I simply keep them to myself because they are too dreadful to repeat here.

Mr. de Besse kept an eye on the large grandfather clock that stood in the corner. He was mesmerized by the Epinetus’ stories but he knew it would be getting dark in a few hours. The clouds foretold of snow and de Besse had a long trip home to Berkshire. His horses and carriage were in excellent shape but the darkness and snow would double the time his trip would take.

“Mr. de Besse, would you have a cigarette that you could give me?” asked Epinetus.

“Yes. Of course” replied de Besse. “Let us go out on the back porch to smoke. We may bother others” lied de Besse. His real reason to move to the outdoors was for a breath of fresh air. Preston Manor had a large population of people with incontinence problems.  De Besse was concerned that he might not be able to stomach the odor when mixed with the smoke.

“Thank you” said Epinetus as he rose from his chair. He led de Besse through a hallway to the back door. When they had reached the outdoors de Besse removed a silver cigarette case from an inner coat pocket. He opened it and held it out in an offer for Epinetus to take one. Epinetus did so and de Besse took one for himself. De Besse fumbled for a match in a compartment on the side of the cigarette case. He finally removed one and struck it on the side of the metal case. The flame lit up Epinetus’ face. At that very moment both men heard the first strains of the Lachrymose. De Besse saw the fear in Epinetus’ eyes. Epinetus reached out to hang on to de Besse’s coat for support. Both men lost their footing on the ice that covered the top step.

The music played while they hung on to each other and, as if in slow motion, they spun a full half-circle. Their feet seemed to dance as they sought firm footing. Slowly the two men went down together, elbows smashing on the flagstone steps, then their heads bouncing off the sharp corners. Slowly the music played; then sped up note by note until it reached that Mozartian glory, accompanied by the cathedral choir.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs the bright red blood spread out over the ice coating. De Besse’s head was cracked open and gray matter was exposed. Epinetus had blood streaming from his ears and nose, one arm twisted grotesquely under his body. Their music continued for two more refrains and ended only when their hearts, in unison, stopped beating.

I had been watching them from the window of the great room as they had departed for a cigarette. They were discovered some hours later; after darkness had fallen. It was only then that I arose from my chair and went to my room. The music was too beautiful. I could not leave any sooner.

 

 

© Copyright – Waldo Tomosky

JOHN BESSAC’S GRANDSON CLOSES THE STORY

24 Thursday May 2012

Posted by Waldo "Wally" Tomosky in John Bessac

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Abraam Storms, American revolution, Anah Bessac, Chenango County, Chenango Forks, Chenango River, Fur Trader, George Park, Greene NY, Henry Birdsall, John Bessac, Madrid, North Fenton, Priest, Privateer, Royal Guard

John Bessac’s grandson Benjamin L. Bessac gave the introduction to this story with a short note. See the bottom of the following post.

https://waldotomosky.wordpress.com/2012/04/13/the-story-of-jean-guilliame-de-besse-1760-1824/ 

It would be proper, I believe, to allow Benjamin L. Bessac speak to us from his notes of July 30, 1863, written in Albion, NY.

My grandfather had eight children, four sons and four daughters, of whom all but one survived him. His widow [Anah] died at the city of Hudson on the Eleventh day of February, 1834, aged seventy-seven years.

[One paragraph is set aside for each child. Each paragraph gives the details of each child, their spouses and their children.]

It only remains for me to add a few personal recollections of one of the noblest men I have ever known. I first saw him in the spring of 1816 at my father’s house in Tioga County. He was then in his fifty-eighth year, about five feet ten inches high, straight as an arrow, and perfect in form and features; his face was bronzed by exposure, but his eye was as keen as the eagle’s, and his chestnut hair, without a stripe of grey, hung in curls about his neck. His movements were light and rapid, and his language as polished as that of an officer of the reign of Louis the Grand. He was as courteously polite to the pauper, who begged his bread by the wayside, as he would have been to the proudest monarch on earth. He was a man of unusual physical power, and was endowed with a constitution of iron. It was my good fortune to go with him to his home on the Chenango River, where I remained for some months, following him about on his daily walks about the farm and listening to his instructive and most entertaining conversation. In the cool evenings of that cold summer, when the rambles of the day were over, it was a pleasure never to be forgotten to sit near him by the cheerful fire and listen to the reminiscences of his eventful life – – – a life that had been passed in France, Spain and America, upon the sea and the land, and covering the overthrow of the Bourbon Dynasty, the crash of the French Revolution, the rise and fall of the great Napoleon, and the glorious uprising of this great and, then, happy and prosperous nation; “all of which he saw and part of which he was.” He told me of Louis the Sixteenth, and the good Lafayette, of Rochambeau, and Washington, of Kosciuszko and Pulaski, of the sunny slopes and smiling valleys of his beloved France; of his mother in that beautiful land, who he reverenced almost to idolatry; of Spain, the land of rugged mountains and sparking rivers, immortalized by the song of the Troubadour, and of his wanderings and romantic life and adventures. So the evenings would glide away until the small hours of the night, when he would rise from his chair, and with courteous obeisance, retire. I saw him again in the fall of 1817, a few weeks only, and then for the last time on earth. The disease of which he died had begun its fatal work upon his iron frame; his step was less elastic, his face appeared care-worn and tinged with a shade of sadness entirely unusual. I was about returning to the eastern part of the State to commence my education, and he walked from his house with me to the river and ferried me across. We went up the bank together, and then he gave me his blessing and turned away. May God so direct my footsteps on earth that I shall meet him in the realm above the stars, where the weary are at rest.

When I first became acquainted with Grandfather I noticed a small purple spot or pimple on his chin; when I saw him last it was so much enlarged that in shaving himself he cut around it. This incipient cancer continued to increase in size and virulence until the early spring of the year 1824, when on the 25th day of March he was gathered to his fathers. So passed away from earth JEAN GUILLIAUME BESSAC, the novitiate of the French Catholic Church, the wanderer over the Pyrenees, the member of the life guard to the King of Spain, the soldier of the American Revolution, and aid-de-camp of Count Rochambeau; an affectionate son, brother and father; a wise and faithful counselor and friend. May all of his descendants strive to imitate those virtues which have rendered his memory so fragrant.

[Another page is used to describe encounters with people who knew of John Bessac or his family in France.]

There is nothing I could add to the story of John Bessac. So I close out these posts with a few relevant items that may serve as a summary of this story; in chronological order starting with John Bessacs parents and siblings.

JOHN BESSAC VISITS MOROCCO

 

JOHN BESSAC THE RUNAWAY PRIEST

 

JOHN BESSAC LEAVES A TEARFUL MOTHER

 

JOHN BESSAC PASSES GERONA ON HIS WAY TO MADRID

 

JOHN BESSAC’S FIRST LOVE

 

THE KNIFE FIGHT

 

JOHN BESSAC OFFERS HIS RESIGNATION FROM THE ROYAL GUARD

 

 

JOHN BESSAC SEARCHES FOR HIS BROTHER’S SHIP

 

JOHN BESSAC BECOMES A PRIVATEER

 

JOHN BESSAC INVOLVED IN AMERICAN REVOLUTION

 

JOHN BESSAC THE FUR TRADER

 

 

JOHN BESSAC’S TIES TO FRANCE ARE SEVERED

20 Sunday May 2012

Posted by Waldo "Wally" Tomosky in John Bessac

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Aaron Squire, Anah Bessac, Anah Nichols, Baptiste, Barte, Bertrand, Canadian French, Canadian Indians, Captain Aaron Squire, Chenango River, Chenango Valley, George Park, Jersy City, Lost at Sea, Martel, New York Harbor, Protestant, Quercy, Tories

John Bessac, prior to his move to the banks of the Chenango River, had sent letters to France.  He received letters from his friend Barte and his brothers Bertrand and Baptiste. John even received a nice letter from his father inquiring about his well-being and informing John that he should come home.

John had not, to this point, told anyone about his marriage and his children. Probably with good reason; he was not sure how his family would accept his wife Anah, a Protestant, into the family. John decided that at fifty years old it was about time to face up to this difficult problem.

John sat down and wrote a letter updating the family about everything that had happened since his brother Baptiste had departed America. Included in this short history were his businesses as a merchant in Jersey City, the raids of the Tories, his movement to Hudson, New York and his circuit trading with the Canadian French and the Indians of Niagara. He informed them that he was now living as a farmer in the Chenango Valley.

John saved the news of his marriage and children until the bottom of his letter. He told them of his wonderful wife Anah, about her father Colonel Nichols, and of course his eight children. He informed his father that although he had married a Protestant he would remain a true and faithful servant to the church.

All communications from his relatives in France ceased after that. John was puzzled because his father had, in previous communications, assured John that he was dearly missed at home. John continued to write Baptiste and Bertrand but without results.

John was afraid that his mother had died. He was sure that if she were alive she would prevail upon his father and brothers to respond to his letters. His only thoughts were that she had passed from this earth and that his father forbade his brothers from writing to him because he had “united his destiny with a heretic.”

Finally, in 1822, he tried one more time. The letters were given to his son-in-law, George Park, for delivery. George, a meticulous diarist, made note of the date and addresses on the two envelopes.

For France.

     Messieurs Jean & Baptiste Bessac

          en Quercy.     Martel

 

For France.

     A Monsier le Cure on autre PasteurEcclesiastic de la Parousse de Montvalant.

     en Quercy.          Martel.    

 

The two letters were entrusted to Captain Aaron Squire of Norwalk, Connecticut. Captain Squire was the master of a vessel headed for Nantz, France. He was instructed to place them in the post office upon his arrival. The ship, the crew and Captain Squire were never heard from again after leaving the New York Harbor. They had been lost at sea.

John’s immediate family was all he had remaining. His wonderful wife Anah and the eight children gave him great joy.

And, of course, the mountains and river that he had come to so dearly love.

JOHN BESSAC MOVES TO THE CHENANGO VALLEY

18 Friday May 2012

Posted by Waldo "Wally" Tomosky in John Bessac

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Tags

Albany, American revolution, Battle of Oriskany, British, Chenango County, Chenango River, Chenango Valley, Cherry Valley, Cherry Valley Massacre, Continental Army, Cooperstown, General Burgoyne, General Clinton's Dam, General Sullivan, Hanau, Indian Territory, Indian Warfare, Jager, Joseph Brant, Loyalists, Montvalant, New York City, Oquaga, Oriskany, St. Leger, Susquehanna River, Tioga, Tory, Walter Butler, William Butler

John Bessac, in 1809, was offered a place to dwell. It was a peaceful valley plot that his son Lewis had purchased. The Chenango River was at its base and the hills, almost mountains, rose above it for several hundred feet.

The Chenango River Valley As Seen From Between the Mountain Top Trees

This was the first movement of people west of the banks of the Susquehanna River. Prior to John Bessac’s move the American Revolution had turned into a very unconventional and nasty war. There were two army officers named Butler. Walter Butler fought for the British and the William Butler for the Continental Army.

All the territory to the west of the Susquehanna River was questionable territory. The white man had moved in and began farming. But with the American Revolution the territory was muddied; and no one wins when drinking muddied water.

There were farming settlements in Cherry Valley, Oquaga and Tioga. The British saw these territories as fair game for deflecting the war. Their thrust was towards those farmers who had no defense. This was especially true after the Battle of Oriskany. The American Revolution had moved from New York City to the midlands of New York.

The British had decided to split New England in half by taking control of the Hudson Valley. General Burgoyne, “Gentleman Johnny”, drove his forces from Quebec, Canada southward. This was timed with Lieutenant Barry St. Leger’s expedition of about 1,800 men that were a mix of British regulars, Hessian Jäger from Hanau, Loyalists, Indians, and hired rangers. St. Leger’s drive was a surprise attack from the west. They were to meet Burgoyne in Albany.

Between June of 1777 and 1778 General Walter Butler, a Loyalist to the British, had created havoc for the small farming communities. In 1778, he and Joseph Brant, a Mohawk chief, led a company of Tories and Indians in the raid that culminated in the Cherry Valley Massacre. He has been blamed for the deaths of the many women and children that were killed on that occasion.

The battles and massacres between the American’s Continental Army and the British mixture of Hession Soldiers of Fortune, Indians and Torys continued.

General Sullivan’s Expedition, which wiped out all opponents, halted these attacks on defenseless small farming communities. The expedition was a “scorched earth” campaign that flooded the entire Susquehanna Valley.

A dam was constructed by General Clinton’s men at the mouth of Otsego Lake. After several months the damn was destroyed. Indian, Tory and Loyalist settlements were wiped out; if not at first by the flood then with follow up troop movements that burned any remaining homes, Indian lodges and fields of corn.

With the opposition finally beaten the United States opened up the “Indian Territory” west of the Susquehanna River. This included the Chenango River Valley where Lewis Bessac, John’s son had purchased property.

When John Bessac moved to the Chenango Valley he found a previous settler already established. That settler was Abram Storms. Storms had hauled mill stones across the Katskill Mountains; from the Hudson Valley to the Chenango Valley. He had established a grist mill in what was to become Brisban, New York. Storms then started farming in what was known as the Stillwater Area of the Chenango River.

John Bessac learned proper farming methods from Storms. Then another farmer moved his family from the Connecticut/New York border; this farmer was Henry Birdsall.

Bessac, Storms and Birdsall learned from each other. Their farms became prosperous.

John Bessac had found a river, hills and friends that reminded him of his boyhood in Montvalant, France.

John Bessac was a happy man.

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  • CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS GUY? HE IS SELF PROMOTING AGAIN. Sheeeesh!
  • Egalitarianism, Utopianism and Other Such Nonsense
  • Adirondack Images and Tales Slideshow
  • The Land of Akbar; Post #1 (an introduction)
  • HARMONY
  • PAINTED FACES – PAINTED MEN
  • The Dehkhoda S3:E5 A Story About Sharing
  • The Dehkhoda S3:E4 The Dehkhoda Teaches Them About “Understanding”

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Wally’s Other Blogs

  • About Waldo “Wally” Tomosky and his blogs
  • CONFUSED? (Serial Posts; Where do they Start? Stand Alone Posts; where are they?)

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