In the days when no one had heard of the work "dog tax" every home had any number of dogs. So they ran about in droves gathering more each house they came to.

In the neighborhood where Father (Forbes) lived when he was a young lad there lived an Irishman and his good wife who liked having a boy around to help with the chores before and after school. They had a. big black and white dog named Major and he slept under their bed at night. They lived in a big rambling farm house with a long ell where the summer kitchen was located. This was a very cold place in winter.

One cold, moonlight night in the fall of the year the dogs gathered together adding to their number as they went along. When they came to Old Major's house there were a goodly number of them and they began barking and growling making a dreadfull noise on the old porch. They wanted to get Old Major to go with them and with all their dancing around finally pushed open the old door. Then what a racket with dogs all over the place!

The old man thought it was bad company for his dog so kept calling out "Be still Jaor!" but the noise became so loud he was scared and called to my Father who slept upstairs to "Come down, the dogs are in the kitchen!" He would stick his head out from under the bed covers long enough to call out loud, "Be still Major, Frank, Frank, come down - the dogs are in the kitchen!"

So Father went down as soon as he could get into some clothes. By this time the uproar was terrible and Major couldn't keep still any longer so was right at the door as Father peeped out. What a sight! (It was a moonlight night and the light streamed in onto the fighting dogs of all colors!) They were all over the room and old Major was trying to pry open the door a little more so he could get into the mess, too! Some were standing on their hind legs up in an old sink that was in front of a window. So Father picked up a "Boot jack" and opened the door. He threw the boot jack right at the fighting dogs and it went through the window. At the same time he said, "Go after them, Major!" which the dog did going right through the broken window and away they all went barking with Old Major at their heels.

Through all the noise the old man kept saying in a loud voice (sounding sort of queer as though his head was still under the bed clothes) "Frank, Frank! the dogs are in the kitchen!"

I don't know but I hope Father could get a good sleep and that they let the old dog in after his wild chase. This is a true story told by my father with a strong Irish accent. T would get in back of him on the old lounge which had a back and with my face well in the pillows would listen very closely. He was a grand good father as well as a good story teller.

This story took place in the south part of the town of Williston, Vermont, known as "Bear Town" then. The house overlooks beautiful Hinesburg Pond.