Among the collection of books in the Hubbard home, Theresa, recently closed, was found an attractive book of 111 pages entitled “Mother.” It was written by Amanda J. Briggs, formerly of Plessis. The book is an interesting history of the Jones family, (the mother was Mrs. Catherine Jones), which lived in Plessis until the middle 1870’s, when the author and her husband went to Ohio.

The book is illustrated by several half-tone pictures. One is of the old stone church at Plessis, showing the church with the attractive tower it has not had for many a year. The view of the church is unusual. It was taken from the highway looking toward Plessis village, and the shops and buildings of Plessis appear in the background. The line under the illustration reads: “On the margin of the rocks, nearest town, stood the old stone church.”

There is another picture of the school building in Plessis, with a post and rail fence along the side. The caption reads: “The New School Building.” Now, however, people speak of it as the old school building. There is another picture of interest, bearing the caption, “The Cottage on the Hill.” This was the Plessis homes of the Jones family and stands right at the corner where the highway has a branch going to Clear lake. It is directly across the highway from the former Plato farm. There is a picture of the mother, Mrs. Catherine Jones, who was 73 years old at the time the book was published in 1906. The daughter’s picture is also shown. This would be Amanda Jones Briggs, the author.

She speaks of her mother in the opening thus: “Mrs. Catherine (Fralick) Jones, daughter of Jacob and Catherine (Vanderwack) Fralick, was born at Indian Castle, Herkimer county, New York, March 18, 1814. Our mother’s life was one of adversity from childhood to maturity.”

In speaking of the Plessis home she says: “My parents bought the home on the hill at Plessis of Isaac Corse, an old gentleman. He preferred to live with our people in the house where his wife had died, rather than to live with his son. He prevailed upon my mother to take him in, which she did for a mere pittance per week. He came with all his belongings, was received hospitably and cared for tenderly in his declining years. At the ripe age of 88 he was called to his reward.

“He in turn was kind and thoughtful to us, endeavoring to make as little trouble as possible and ever grateful for any and all attention he received. We all missed him from the corner which had been allotted to him and his armed rocker. Over this was a shelf and upon it was the testament, his glasses ever at the side. He would rock and read his Testament, until he read it through then he would slap it shut and open again at the first chapter of Matthew and re-read it numberless times.”

She says: “My parents were induced to move north by Uncle Adam Fralick, who lived at Perch River, and Uncle Isaac Tahash, who was the blacksmith at Plessis, occupying the place, afterwards known as the William Peck place. We came north to Plessis in January 1882 (year not clear).

“After living in town a few months in the house occupied by Jackson Briggs, my father purchased the Matthew Lewis farm on the Theresa road. Adversities followed thick and fast -- sickness, drought, grasshoppers and unceasing toil -- he gave up the place and purchased the Isaac Corse place.”

The book is most attractive, gold title on the cover, two colors on some of the introductions. Those who remember Plessis say this book is a fine account of life there a generation ago.

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(from the same scrapbook)
(title missing)

Mrs. Amanda Jones Briggs, in her book entitled, “Mother” published in 1906, which has its setting in and around Plessis, has this to say about some of her school days:

“Passing through the center of the town, then turning to the right you would after walking a few rods, come to the old, familiar schoolhouse, with its spacious playgrounds, where for several years brothers, sisters and myself attended school. Well do I remember the old building, with its roomy vestibule. After entering, the boys found seats to the left and the girls to the right, and directly in the center of the building stood the capacious box stove.

“The teacher’s desk, with lock and key to insure the safety of bell, slippers, school register and particularly that weapon of compulsory obedience, the ruler; the old armchair, the table upon which rested sundry articles of educational value; also the seats and benches bearing the names of friends and sweethearts cut deep in the wood, are engraved upon memory’s tablet.

“In this building pupils to the number of a 100 and more have been taught and chastened by one teacher. Within its walls I have experienced much pleasure, received many lessons and some punishment which made lasting impressions, and I feel now, on looking back that much good and useful knowledge was gained. In that building I took my first teacher’s examination and received my first teacher’s certificate when but 15 years of age.”

Her story of the old Union church -- better known through the years as the Stone church -- the building yet standing, is as follows:

“On the margin of the rocks nearest town stood the old stone church, where from its pulpit have been declared the truths of the Bible, as understood by the clergy of different creeds. From the closed and ancient pews fervent prayers have been offered; from its choir sweet voices have sung the praises of God in unison with sacred music; from its altar rail souls have been borne into the kingdom, baptisms have been administered, communicants have partaken from the sacramental cup, love’s vows have been fulfilled by the marriage ceremony. Fathers and mothers, on whose heads had accumulated the snows that never melt, beardless young men, sprightly maidens, boys and girls, babies in arms, have each leaned over the altar rail and with tear-dimmed eyes and bitter sobs, looked for the last time at the silent faces and cold forms of loved ones.

“From the portals the remains of loved ones have been borne down the stairway, across the bridge, through the town, to the silent city of the dead, followed by the mourners, who in turn have been placed among those sleeping their last sleep. Generations have come and gone, yet the old church remains on its foundation, the solid rock, to proclaim to passerby (sic) the stated truth that, although the rains descended, the floods came, the winds blew and beat upon the house, it fell not for it was founded upon a rock.

“The old millpond is not without its history in the memories and hearts of those who have indulged in boating on, or wading in, its waters, or skating upon its icy crest with schoolmates and friends. Even the bridge (the new state road has changed the bridge which spans the pond), could it have spoken, would have told many a sad tale or bright, cheerful story.”

The stone church, after it was no longer in use, was purchased by the late David Bearup, Theresa, to preserve the building, and his daughters, Nellie and Anna, also of Theresa, gave the property a few years ago to the Plessis Methodist church, with the suggestion that it might be made into a community house.

Recently the writer told the story of the book entitled “Mother,” written by Amanda Jones Briggs, formerly of Plessis. This book described Plessis in other days and the “cottage on top of the hill,” where the author resided as a girl. This story brought quite a few comments and prompted Mrs. Eva Sweet of Theresa to tell about the tragic death of the author.

Mrs. Sweet lived in Plessis as a girl and knew the Briggs and the Jones families. Amanda Briggs was a Jones. Miss Jones taught school and resided there until after her marriage to Myron Briggs.

The book relates: “In November of 1877, I, together with my husband, Myron C. Briggs, and babe, Tennie C., took our abode in Bairdstown, O., where Mr. Briggs was employed in mercantile business.”

Mrs. Sweet says:

“If you are driving through Plessis you will come to a right hand street, beyond the village square, where the schoolhouse is located. Years ago a Mr. Clark and Margaret Spalisbury Briggs resided in the house across from the school house. There were two boys, Myron and Edwin. They went west to Ohio and embarked in the business of selling boots and shoes. They became well-to-do and I remember their returning for visits to Plessis. We younger people watched them as they made their calls about the village. They were, we thought better clothes (sic) and the children were fashionably dressed, we said at the time. I remember that another Plessis man, Mr. Mark Wilcox, went west and remained with them for a time, but later went to California.

“I can’t tell just when and where this tragedy happened. My impression is that they had gone to Cleveland on a visit or business trip. They arrived by train and Stella, a good driver, came to meet them with a spanking team of horses and the very fine carriage of the family. Mr. and Mrs. Briggs got into the carriage. The train was standing still at the time, but just as Stella decided to start up the rig and had come down near the engine, the train started with the engine making much noise and blowing out clouds of steam and black smoke. The team took fright and in spite of the excellent driver, ran away. The carriage was tipped over and thrown against a building and both Myron and Amanda were killed. Stella was injured but lived.

“I remember how I used to enjoy going to the home in Plessis and so when things were disposed of I made an effort to get an article I very much wanted. And here it is.”

Mrs. Sweet brought out an earthen tray, shamrock shaped, and on this tray were salt and pepper shakers, as well as a vinegar pitcher

Mrs. Mary Wilson, who spent her youth in Plessis, has just read this book by Mrs. Briggs and said that it has brought back many happy memories.