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New Brighton was settled by Quakers, so that may explain its simple, conservative living. My elders used to tell of the times which I did not remember, of the lovely peaceful village, to which many Pittsburghers, among them Stephen Foster, came in the summer months for restful vacations. The Merrick House, later destroyed by fire, had a reputation which made a stay here very attractive to outsiders.
This was all before my time, but I do remember lower Third Avenue, or Main Street, as it was called then, lined with maple trees which arched overhead, and gave us a lovely cool walk in the hot summer days.
But, underfoot, Main Street was not so pleasant. There were no pavements in those early times. I can remember when the highway was a whirl of dust in the summertime and a bog of mud in the winter, when not frozen and covered with ice and snow. Mud!!! The present generation knows nothing of what that can be at its worst. The sidewalks were rough and stony at best and I distinctly recall some enormous stones, over and around which we had to make our way. The brick pavements were a wonderful comfort when they came. The street was lighted by gas but this was so inadequate that lanterns were often carried by pedestrians.
The town has grown backward on the hill greatly during the years of which I speak. In my early "teens", I used to visit a girlfriend who lived in the old stone house, which, at that time, with the surrounding acres, was Oak Hill. I had to pass many open spaces, and frequently, cows, the latter always making my heart work a little faster. When I was married in 1894, Grandmother Read, an invalid whose memory of the Hill District was as it was many years previous, was bemoaning the fact that I was going to live in the country - Penn Avenue.
I dimly remember the two town pumps which did valiant service before days of the town water works. One was at the corner of the present Third Avenue and Thirteenth Street, the other Third Avenue and Ninth Street.
Main Street in my girlhood days, was almost exclusively the residence of my relatives, a family community center. There were three houses occupied by Pugh families, all of these related to us through Grandmother Miner, four houses of Merricks, related through Grandfather Miner. Then there was Grandfather Miner's house itself where grandfather and grandmother lived, together with a married daughter, and her family Aunt Ettie Read. Another aunt and her family, Aunt Carrie Critchlow, lived a few doors from here.
Grandfather's property, where there are now ten or twelve houses, was really a lovely place, and the house itself is still so. The garden, where we children used to pick potato bugs, the corn field, the orchard, where we had our family reunions, have all given way to modern homes and lawns. The barn, the smoke house, the ice house, have retired in favor of modern conveniences.