I wondered about that too, and still do. There was nothing to indicate that the date was anything but legitimate, but of course I was (and am) no expert. I do know where it came from: she used to go around to old farmhouses offering flat prices for boxes of old books, many of which had been up in attics untouched for years. Lots of odd little corners up there. When I was a kid I used to visit a farm that had been in the family since it was granted by George the 3rd to the former butler of the Duke of Bedford. The butler's daughter was carrying the Duke's kid, and the colonies were thought far enough to conceal the matter, such is the source of my fragment of ignoble blood. Anyway, the farmhouse remained, though the farm was not functioning, and had not since my grandfather's day. The whole affair was presided over by two rather daffy maiden great-aunts, and the upper two floors of the house had been sealed off, complete with furnishings, sometime during the depression. Around the time I was in high school some shrewd antique dealers offered the maiden aunts a lump sum to clean the place out. I wonder what they got. I remember that they had clocks carved entirely of hardwood, including the springs, and some of the largest wood-burning stoves I've ever seen. There was probably a lot more, I was more interested in shooting the woodchucks than observing the furniture.
The great-aunts are dead now, but the road leading past the relic still bears their name, as do a few items in the local museum, including a musket borne by an ancestor in the battle of Saratoga. The farm is all sold off now, only the old cemetary remains. My father, who is sentimental about these things, goes up yearly to clean it up; I suppose I ought to go and have a look someday. |
