their appeals and frustrate their most serious
efforts for the good of his soul. On one occasion, so runs the story,
the deacons of the church made him a special visit, and, being ushered
into the parlor, were given a patient audience while they pointed out
the moral danger of his way of life, and besought him earnestly to
reform. But presently the colonel was called out, and having obtained a
short leave of absence ordered a flask of his best brandy carried in to
the deacons, with sugar and glasses. Of course it was in entire accord
with the custom of those days for the worthy pillars of the church to
partake of the proffered beverage; and, on his return Col. Balcom said:
"Now, gentlemen, let's take a drink, and then I'm ready to talk." So the
deacons drank again. Scarcely had they picked up the lost thread of the
conversation, however, when the landlord was once more obliged to excuse
himself in order to attend to some urgent duty as host; and, in fact,
several like interruptions occurred in the course of an hour. But in
each case the imperturbable colonel returned with the same hearty words
upon his lips: "Now, gentlemen, let's take a drink, and then I'm ready
to talk." Then as the smooth brandy began to tell on the deacons, they
gradually modified their estimate of the landlord's sins and their
personal duty, until at length one of them rose from his chair and
turning to the other said: "Waal, I guess Col. Balcom ain't the wust
sort o' man in the world--come, brother, let's go home."

Although nature and circumstances would seem to have destined Attleboro
for an agricultural town, its reputation rests chiefly on its mechanical
industries, and during the eighteenth century there were several small
cotton mills running in the place. As early as 1825, a traveller
following the Ten-Mile River from the Wrentham line to where the stream
slips into Seekonk on the other side of the town, would have found two
cotton mills near where Whiting's jewelry factory now stands, a third
near the site of the "Company's" shop, and still a fourth at Falls
Village. Farther on he would have come upon the rude beginnings of the
button factory which has flourished so long at Robinsonville; a nail
factory at Deantown and another at the Farmers, as well as a cotton mill
on the spot where the stove foundry now stands in the same village.
Robert Saunderson's forge would have been blazing at Mechanics beside
John Cooper's corn mill, and Balcom's