It was a cold December morning when my friend Carrye and I visited the old Perley cabin in Bridgton, Maine. It had changed quite a bit since the Old Squire built it back in 1776. It was moved at least twice during its long life. The first time, as far as we know, it was moved to the back of the Squire’s son’s house, where it was used as a tool shed. The other journey took it from South Bridgton on a five mile journey where it rests today on a little peninsula on Highland Lake.

The owners’ of the property added on to the old cabin. A front porch room on one gable end, and a kitchen on the other. The windows had been replaced, as had the fireplace. But there on the beams were the adze marks from the young Enoch Perley. There, too, the latch and the evidence of the hard work in the building of it.

He built it for his bride back home in Massachusetts. When it was finished, he went home to fetch her. The young couple brought back with them the new Mrs. Perley’s slave girl, purchased as a dowry by her father, Deacon John Flint.

The slave girl’s name was Cloe. She became a lifelong member of the Perley family, staying on with them when Massachusetts freed the slaves.

As Carrye and I stood in the cabin talking about Cloe and how amazing her story was, the door behind us suddenly and slowly swung open. We turned to see who had entered, and no one was there. But, we turned to each other, wide-eyed, and we both knew who had made her presence felt. Cloe was letting us know it was time that her story was told.

This one’s for you, Cloe Perley. May your spirit rest easy.