Today I spent the afternoon at the library. I learned many things, but I'm not sure how to apply them.
I learned that two of the barns we have/had were built very specifically. The old barn that no longer stands was built up against an embankment. Apparently, barns like this were built to house cattle on the ground floor, and the embankment served as a way for wagons to drive into the barn to delivery or pick up crops or hay. The second barn has four very large doors, two on each opposite side. These doors made it easy for wagons to drive through.
It seems that the farmhouse was built in something called "Pre-Classical 'I'". The "I" refers to the shape of the floor plan. Certain things about the house are commonly found in farmhouses of this area, such as the porch off the side and the kitchen off the rear of the original house (this was called an "out kitchen", I think).
There are also some neat legends around Hunterdon. A man named John (?) Ringo (?) (founder of Ringoes, NJ) was said to fear losing his house and wealth during the Revolution so much that he buried his money. Then, he passed away without telling anyone where it is. It's a legend, though - maybe it happened, maybe it didn't. People have been looking for John Ringo's treasure ever since.
Around the 18th and 19th centuries, if you wanted to sell stuff in town, you had to have a peddler's license. This was obtained by paying a bond and filing a petition. The petition consisted of your neighbors vouching for your good citizenship. One gentleman, William Fulper, Jr. was vouched for by approximately 20 people back in 1797. Among the men in the petition was a John Hice. I have a feeling this man might be father or grandfather to George Hice from the earliest deed.
I found records of an Ann Marsh. So far, this is the only person I have come across with the last name of a previous owner of this house, whose initials are A. M. (see post about stone in walkway).
The Dalrymples also went by the spelling Derumple.
Legend has it that many older records were lost in a fire in the Flemington Courthouse some hundred years or so ago. Only partially true - yes, there was a fire. This is why our present courthouse was built, I think. But no, no records were lost. A township clerk (I think) managed to get them all moved out, undamaged. However, there were many deeds in there whose "owners had yet to.." recall? Pick up? I can't remember the phrase. Apparently this backlog of deeds made the work of saving the records more laborious.
In Bethlehem Township, there is an area called Bog Meadows. This land was deeded to the township back in 1977, in an effort to preserve one of New Jersey's last quaking bogs. Have there been any human or animal remains found there, I wonder? Hmmmm.
That's all for now. I've got to figure out how the rest of this stuff fits in.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Strange Days
Today we finally stopped smelling the random rotting critter in our wall. Thank heaven.
Also, this weekend I managed to get myself locked in the attic - I suppose that's a comes-with-the-territory of exploring old houses. What happened was that I went upstairs to get some pictures and things from the attic for my father. I easily found everything, and then turned to come downstairs when I realized the door had shut. Weird, because the doorway is swollen from humidity and rather difficult to open, or close; and I had heard nothing of it closing. I tried to turn the knob - it was definitely locked. So I went back up to the attic. I opened one of the small windows to try to get someone's attention. I grabbed a disintegrating trash bag and dangled it out the window.
At this time, my husband was busy trimming the bushes in front. My dad was on the lawnmower, and my stepmom was cleaning inside their house. I saw my best chance of escape as Dad came near the farmhouse on the tractor. I yelled and waved my plastic flag, and Dad heard me. He turned to look up, waved, smiled, and... kept on going. I was getting used to the idea that I'd be up there for a while. I heard the weedwhacker stop going, and I thought my husband may have gone back inside for a drink or something, so I started banging on the door. Then I realized, with the air conditioner running in the bedroom, and in the living room, he wouldn't be able to hear me.
So I sat back against the stone chimney. Something nesting in the chimney hissed and tweeted at me, very fierce-like, but I tweeted back and it calmed down. Wonder what I said to it...
Then, I saw my husband walk around to the side of the house with my flag on it. I yelled for him, and luckily he heard me. He came back inside, and opened the door for me. He had to push really hard to get it to move, though.
While up there, I had some time to look around and relax. I looked at one of the photos of the house from yesteryear (I don't know which yesteryear). It was a shot of the front of the house from the road. It looked like someone had taken a picture of a picture. It was very faded, and as I looked at it, I realized something was different. I couldn't tell if the back part had been built yet... but I did notice the front portico was not only a different style, but in a completely different spot. Hmm. No one's mentioned this little tidbit before. I'll have to as Dad about it.
Also, this weekend I managed to get myself locked in the attic - I suppose that's a comes-with-the-territory of exploring old houses. What happened was that I went upstairs to get some pictures and things from the attic for my father. I easily found everything, and then turned to come downstairs when I realized the door had shut. Weird, because the doorway is swollen from humidity and rather difficult to open, or close; and I had heard nothing of it closing. I tried to turn the knob - it was definitely locked. So I went back up to the attic. I opened one of the small windows to try to get someone's attention. I grabbed a disintegrating trash bag and dangled it out the window.
At this time, my husband was busy trimming the bushes in front. My dad was on the lawnmower, and my stepmom was cleaning inside their house. I saw my best chance of escape as Dad came near the farmhouse on the tractor. I yelled and waved my plastic flag, and Dad heard me. He turned to look up, waved, smiled, and... kept on going. I was getting used to the idea that I'd be up there for a while. I heard the weedwhacker stop going, and I thought my husband may have gone back inside for a drink or something, so I started banging on the door. Then I realized, with the air conditioner running in the bedroom, and in the living room, he wouldn't be able to hear me.
So I sat back against the stone chimney. Something nesting in the chimney hissed and tweeted at me, very fierce-like, but I tweeted back and it calmed down. Wonder what I said to it...
Then, I saw my husband walk around to the side of the house with my flag on it. I yelled for him, and luckily he heard me. He came back inside, and opened the door for me. He had to push really hard to get it to move, though.
While up there, I had some time to look around and relax. I looked at one of the photos of the house from yesteryear (I don't know which yesteryear). It was a shot of the front of the house from the road. It looked like someone had taken a picture of a picture. It was very faded, and as I looked at it, I realized something was different. I couldn't tell if the back part had been built yet... but I did notice the front portico was not only a different style, but in a completely different spot. Hmm. No one's mentioned this little tidbit before. I'll have to as Dad about it.
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