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I think at this time, perhaps, it may be of interest to a great many acquaintances of Uncle Levi if I write of a visit I had with him last year. His mind at that time was a marvel. He knew Canadice people and their history from A to Z.
He was born eight years before the town was organized (1822). He came with his folks, Joel and Sally Coykendall, to town when nine years of age, and it seemed to me he knew every one from then to the day of his death. He knew personally every supervisor and every justice of the peace the town ever had, and he could prove it by naming them.
He told me how, at one time, they held their town meeting three days running - one day at Honeoye, one day at the corners, and one day at Bald Hill. He had the table on which the members of the first town board ate. His folks commenced keeping hotel about the time they moved to town. I think it was in 1831, one year after the town was organized. He was nine years old.
He told me how at one time there were nine hotels in the town. The one his father kept was at the corners, and known as Aunt Sally’s. There was one across the road where Ed Hoagland now lives; one on Bald Hill where Everett Coykendall lives, one on the Hemlock road where the old Half-Way House used to stand, one north of the corners, I think he said where Charles Schneck lives, one on the hill south of the church, two up in the pinery near Tabor’s Corners, and one, I think, on the Honeoye lake road. He told me who kept them all. In view of the number of hotels in town, it is no wonder they called the strap with which they hitched their horses a rum strap.
He called everyone by name. He told how a deacon of the church came in one morning and called for a drink of whiskey, and his father set up the bottle and a common tumbler. The deacon put his fingers around the very top of the glass, and filled it brimming full and drank it, and then passed over the regular three cents. His father shoved one cent back, and told the deacon that he sold whiskey cheaper when he sold at wholesale.
Uncle Levi said it was his job to go every Saturday to Frost Hollow and get a barrel of whiskey. He told of drawing from Springwater the lumber with which they sided their barn, when he was twelve years old, and they bought it for three dollars a thousand, saying they paid only five dollars per thousand for the white oak plank they used on the plank road from Slab City to Rochester.
At one time there was a road on the west side of Canadice lake, and he related how they moved a threshing machine there and threshed wheat that was grown on the side hills where Charles Schneck’s cottage now stands.
He told the names of those who took part in the horse races at the town fairs and general trainings, and gave all the particulars. One day when he went with his father to see a mare and colt his father blazed away with his old flint lock at something he saw in the field, and was frightened afterward thinking he had killed the colt, but it turned out to be a deer that he had laid low. The old gun, years afterword, was made into a cap-lock, and it may be a modern gun now.
At the visit of which I speak he talked about many people whom he had known as a boy and young man, and made the remark that most of them were gone now. I tried to cheer him by saying that only a few months before I was talking with a lady who said she could remember holding Levi Cokyendall on her lap when he was a baby. That lady is Mrs. Susan Burch, and she is now living with Mark Ross in Canadice.
I have known Uncle Levi, as I called him, all my life. His children quit going to school before I commenced, but I remember how he brought his grandchildren, and how he would whistle, whether it was fair weather or foul. No snow was too deep for him to get through. Then it seemed to me, as I saw him carrying his great-grandchildren to school, that time was quite kind to him, but for a few years past his days had been full or sorrow, and God was very kind to him when he cut them off and took him home.
His wife, Francena Hoppough, died eleven years ago last May. Of his four children but one is living, Mrs. Hiram Swan of Caledonia. He left six grandchildren and thirteen great-grandchildren. There is one sister, Mrs. Hoppough, in Rochester.
Uncle Levi Coykendall was a jolly man, a great lover of children, and one who appreciated a favor or kindness to the last.
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