In the days leading up to the Christmas of 1895, no snow covered the ground in Farmington, and bicyclists still populated the village streets. Families had to cancel plans for the usual Christmas evening sleigh rides.

Church congregations celebrated the season together in informal gatherings. As a group, members would “have their tree” and sing holiday songs.

Along with Christmas trees, Santa Claus too was already a part of the holiday. From his New York Store on Broadway William Pratt offered “a full line of choice new nuts, elegant new figs and dates, to assist Santa Claus.” All the many dry goods merchants, grocers, and druggists in the village had special wares to offer near Christmastime. Over 30 retail establishments in downtown Farmington displayed their largest and most varied stocks during the last two weeks before the holiday.

Trains made travel to Lewiston and Portland relatively easy, so Farmington merchants faced the challenge of keeping shoppers in town. They had an ally in the Farmington Chronicle, whose editor observed that “nowhere in the state can you buy your Christmas presents at a better advantage, or more to your satisfaction than right at the county seat itself.”

Shoppers could browse through the collection of $5 men’s wool suits at downtown Farmington’s newest store, the Hinkley Clothing Co. They could choose from a variety of lady’s and children’s boots and shoes at Farmington’s oldest store, A.S. Butterfield’s.

W.F. Belcher’s was popular for their 25-cent neckties. “They go like hotcakes!” observed the store clerk.

All over town, salesmen tried to put their best foot forward, but weren’t always successful.

“Is anyone waiting on you Madam?” Fred Paine asked a young woman looking at the fur capes and wool shawls at Rice & Paine. The junior partner was simply trying to be accommodating, not fresh.

“Why what a question! Young man, I’ve been married nearly 10 years,” the woman indignantly replied, thinking Fred was asking if anyone was courting her.

The store had a reputation for courteous and painstaking service, and perhaps the woman wasn’t used to such attentiveness. Fred blushed and stammered an explanation.

Luann Yetter teaches writing at the University of Maine at Farmington. Additional research done by UMF student David Farady.