RIDLONS OF HOLLIS, MAINE.
635
sprang upon his back, cutting his coat in slits with her claws. Thomas
would not relinquish his prize, but ran forward. The enraged cat con-
tinued to follow him and to spring upon his back, till his dog, taking the
scent, came out to meet him, and then, to use Mr. Ridlon's words, he
"shifted the responsibility," and left the cat and dog to fight the battle
between themselves. He succeeded in taking his wild kittens to the
house, and in a few days afterwards sent them to Portland by ""Squire
Vaughan," and sold them. This adventure shows the character of the
man, and in narrating the circumstances he always manifested a degree
of pride in his achievement.
Mr. Ridlon worked on the Saco River driving logs when a young man,
and saw many narrow escapes from death while thus employed. There
were two men of herculean build in their crew, known as the "Rankin
brothers," and these claimed the championship for strength; but the
test came, and they lost their prestige. On a set of falls they had con-
structed a rude dam, connected with a sluiceway, through which they ran
their logs; this had a gate at the upper end, which was raised by a lever
put through a mortise in its head-post. Moving up and down as it did,
through rough slides, and with a heavy pressure of water upon it from
above, it demanded a powerful man to raise this gate. The Rankin broth-
ers both did their best, but failed to move it; Robert Sawyer, a large
and strong man, then took his lever and lifted till he burst the button
from his shirt-collar, but could not start the heavy planking. It now came
Mr. Ridlon's turn, and stepping upon the bulwarks he put his hand-spike
through the mortise, adjusted the other end upon his brawny shoulder,
and springing quickly, raised the gate the first time.
Mr. Ridlon was a natural mechanic, and delighted to work with tools.
He constructed nearly all implements used on his farm, erected his own
buildings, mended his own shoes, manufactured his own knives, and the
axe-handles he made were known far and wide for more than fifty years;
these last were all of one pattern of his own invention, and would sell to
the backwoodsmen when no others would be used. He whittled all his
axe-handles by hand, and I can see just how he looked as he sat before his
bright, open fire, the long winter evenings, his bald crown shining with the
reflections of light, while with his broad "scythe-knife" he dressed the
rough-hewed piece of oak into symmetry and beauty of finish.
He never
harnessed a horse (though an expert in the saddle), never saw the cars,
was never out of his native State, never called a physician but once till
his last sickness, used tobacco until nearly eighty years of age, and then left
it alone, invariably arose at four o'clock in the morning, lived with his
congenial wife in the same house sixty-six years, and died in September,
1874, aged 94 years and 1 month. His wife died three years previously;
they were buried in Moderation Village Cemetery, in his son's lot. The
last days of this godly and venerable pair were spent in the family of the
author of this book.
Judith Ridlon (2), second daughter of Thomas (1), was born in
Phillipsburgh (now Hollis), Me., Sept. 15, 1783, and never married. She
was the first white child born in her town, and lived to see it changed
from a wilderness to a garden of broad and fertile farms. "Aunt Judy"
lived a very useful life; was a "ministering angel" among the sick and
suffering, until, by reason of age and infirmity, she became a subject of
others' care and attention. Probably no person has lived contemporary
with her who has watched by as many sick and dying persons.
At one
