A Christmas Visit to Cape Cod in 1895
A recollection by Joseph Mayo
Mansfield News, December 2008
“My mother and I left from Worcester by train the day before Christmas to spend the Holy Holiday with my grandparents [in Truro]. This was an exciting time for me as I had never been on a train before.
We boarded the train and Mother let me sit next to the window. The cars gave a jerk and we slowly moved down the track. We had been swaying for some time when my mother called to my attention the cranberry bogs and some cows and horses grazing in a pasture; there was not any snow. With puffs of black smoke, we went on our way, passing through quaint Cape Cod towns and villages like Barnstable, Yarmouth, Brewster, Eastham and Wellfleet.
Soon, we could see Cape Cod Bay on this crisp cold day as the sun was setting in to the West. It was a beautiful sight to behold as the large ball of fire dipped into the ocean and disappeared. It was as though the ocean water had put out the fire.
Then, without any warning, a North Easter moved in from the Atlantic. In no time, the ground and train were covered with heavy, wet snow. We were at Corn Hill when the conductor leaned over and said, “Sonny, the next whistle you hear we will be coming into North Truro.” I heard the toot, but it was muffled by the snow and strong winds off the ocean.
As we pulled into the station, I overheard the station master say, “Looks like we’re in for a real blizzard.” Captain Francis picked up the snow-covered mail and placed it on the back of his buggy to take it to the Post Office for Miss Snow to sort. Mother and I waited in the station for my grandfather. Everyone who hadn’t left stood close to the red hot pot belly stove.
Grandfather finally arrived with the buggy and apologized for being late. Prince, he said, had had a hard time getting up Depot Hill. My grandfather hugged and kissed us. I didn’t mind the hug, but his beard was covered in icy snow. We climbed into the open buggy and the horse skidded down the hill. I was afraid Prince would slip and fall, as he was getting old. By the time we arrived at the house, five inches had fallen. At the door to greet us were Grandma and my aunts and uncles.
Night closed in early because of the snowstorm, so Grandpa lit the kerosene lamps and put some coal on the wood for the kitchen stove. I stood at the window watching the snow swirling around the farm house, but I couldn’t see Highland Light. Grandpa and Grandma excused themselves as both had to get up early. Grandfather had to milk the cows, feed the hens and horse. Grandmother had a lot of preparing to do for the Christmas dinner. Of course, my mother and aunts would pitch in to help. We were having chicken rather than turkey. I couldn’t keep my eyes open, so I went to bed, too.
It seemed like only an hour later Grandma called us for breakfast. Grandpa came in and said, “The storm is nearly over and we got eleven inches of snow.” Everything was so white and clean as I looked out the front window.
Grandpa had cut down a plain pine tree. It was beautiful with strings of popcorn and the bayberry candles on each of the extended limbs. After a delicious dinner, we sat around the tree and opened our presents. All the adults were talking about the good old days. Before we knew it, the moon was shining on the new fallen snow. At last, I could see the lighthouse with its revolving light, warning the ships at sea.”