State

The Mill and the Miller The old water mill was the community center for political and religious gather¬ ings, fish fries, harhecues, Brunswick stews and picnics. TWO generations ago, the old water mill, whose remains fur¬ nish vistas of a civilization of the latter part of the nineteenth century, was an institution in many parts of North Carolina. One of these old mills that ground corn into hominy, as well as meal of the best quality, was owned and operated by my uncle, William Aaron, with whom I went to live after the death of my parents. He was a well-known farmer, hunter, and fisherman. His home and mill were on the road from Halifax to Scotland Neck, eight miles from Halifax. Uncle William was the miller; a good one, and the kind of man to make the mill the institution it was as a center for community gatherings. Picnics, fish fries, Brunswick stews, barbecues, politi¬ cal and religious gatherings — all were held at the old mill. Many a day I watched Uncle William as he helped farmers un¬ load the corn that they had brought to the mill to be ground. It was CDured into a large funnel-shaped эррег, large enough to hold more than thirty bushels of shell corn. Frequently as the immense mill¬ stones were grinding the corn to powder, he would go to the down spouts and feel the meal pouring into the large trough to see if it were being ground fine enough to be delivered measure for measure to his customers. It was interesting to see how he paid himself for his work. He had measuring vessels made of wood that were round in shape with flat bottoms. These vessels were of five different sizes — bushel. half¬ bushel, peck, half-peck, and his toll crock, small and insignificant look¬ ing. When he had poured a bushel of corn into the hopper, he took the small toll crock, dipped it into the hopper, filled it level and poured its contents into another vessel. That was his pay for grind¬ ing a bushel of corn. He did this during the day as the customers came and went. In the late after¬ noon, when business became slack, he put into the hopper some corn from his own accumulations and Bij W. C. ALLEN ground out enough for his family. The part the mill played in com¬ munity life will always be out¬ standing in my memory. We often had barbecues in the winter and Brunswick stews in the summer, and hundreds of people from miles around gathered for these gala oc¬ casions. Another social event was the fish fry. With Uncle William and Aunt Jane, I often went out in the late afternoon between sunset and dark to the best old fishing hole in the millpond which covered more than a hundred acres. With a frying pan brought from home and salt, lard, and corn meal to make a hoe- cake, we caught fish by hook or net. then cleaned, scaled and fried them as soon as they were pulled out of the water. Such a delicious supper we had with just fish and corn bread! Once I attended a political rally of Democrats at the old mill in 1872 when Greely and Brown were the ( Continued on page 17) A typical old mill that played such an important part in the life of the state during Civil War days. ©