A modern history of Windham county, Connecticut : a Windham county treasure book, Volume I, Part 109

Author: Lincoln, Allen B
Publication date: 1920
Publisher: Chicago : S. J. Clarke publ. co.
Number of Pages: 930

USA > Connecticut > Windham County > A modern history of Windham county, Connecticut : a Windham county treasure book, Volume I > Part 109

Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).

890

HISTORY OF WINDHAM COUNTY

JANE GAY FULLER

(From "Poets and Poetry of Minnesota," published by S. P. Rounds, 46 State Street, Chicago, 1864.)

Jane Gay Fuller was a native of Windham, Scotland Parish, Conn., a region as picturesquely rugged as it is beautiful. Her childhood and youth were passed among her native hills, attending the public and private schools of her parish, with an occasional term at some neighboring seminary. At an early age she developed a taste and talent for writing, the picturesque scenery by which she was surrounded doubtless contributing in a great degree to inspire a love for the beautiful in the works of nature. Her earliest productions appeared in "Graham's" and "Peterson's Magazines," with the exception of an occasional article in the local papers. A nouvelette, entitled "Anna Temple," from her pen, in 1852, had a wide republication, and her poem called "The Life Book," first published in the "Home Journal," went the rounds of the press, and was copied by many of the English papers. "The Heart of Seventy-Six," which appeared in the "New York Mirror," was still more popular, and was illustrated for an annual.

In the spring of 1854, Miss Fuller came to Minnesota, and during the summer of that year penetrated the wilds of the far-famed land of lakes and beauty as far as Fort Ripley and the Chippewa Agency, a reminiscence of which was after- wards published in the "Knickerbocker Magazine." Being in delicate health, she continued her travels, and probably traveled more in the state than any other lady, visiting lakes and waterfalls; and during these excursions she col- lected a number of legends, which she wrought into poems. Many of these are historic, others fabulous. They are considered too lengthy to appear in this work, and it was her intention to dedicate them to the Minnesota Historical Society. Literature and literary effort were only a pastime for Miss Fuller, as her health, being always delicate, prevented any continued exertion. At the time the Civil war broke out she was in Florida, engaged on a work called "The Southern Flora," for the use of schools.

Poetry and prose seemed to flow alike with ease and grace from her pen. Her poems were characterized by melodious rhyme and a delicate tenderness of idea and expression, while all her writings were distinguished by a singular natural- ness and simplicity, investing the dull and often wearisome commonplaces of life with interest and beauty.

THE HEART OF "SEVENTY-SIX"

By Jane Gay Fuller

When our great mother's hand essayed To whip and make us yield, Our stubborn sires quick foot-prints made, For camp and battle field ! The lawyer quit his client then, The parson, wig and gown,

And hosts of panting husbandmen Left ploughshares in the ground !

891

HISTORY OF WINDHAM COUNTY

Banners of snowy mist were hung Over one autumn morn, When a matron and two maidens young, Went reaping harvest-corn ! The maidens were of gentle blood, Lofty that matron's brow : "Thou wear'st no weeds of widowhood- Where rests thy husband now ?"

"Rests!"-and she haughtily began : "I joy to know that he Fights foremost in the battle's van, For Home and Liberty ! And I have taken in my hand The sickle in his stead, For patriot women of the land Should reap the winter's bread !"

"Thou elder maiden, thy fair brow Rivals our mountain snows, And on thy cheek scarce lingers now The faintest tint of rose ! I met thee, ere the summer-tide, A dreamer light and gay ; A manly form was at thy side, Where doth the loiterer stay ?"

And proudly then that maid replied : "My lover is not one To linger at a lady's side, While glorious deeds are done ! He stands where battle-thunder jars, And plumes of warriors wave, Bearing the 'Eagle and the Stars,' The ensign of the brave!"

"And thou, my little maiden dear, Thou hast not strength, I ween, To bind the heavy bundles here, Or urge the sickle keen ! . Call thy young brother from his play! Why doth that tear-drop start ? She said-"He is a Volunteer, And bears a manly heart !

"We taught him lessons of the strife, And how to use a gun, And told him that a hero's life Was best in youth begun !

892

HISTORY OF WINDHAM COUNTY

And then he took the powder-horn, Which our dead grandsire gave, Shouldered his gun, and one bright morn Went forth to join the brave!"

"And are ALL gone-husband and son -- Lover and brother-all ? Ye lofty-hearted. still toil on! No evil can befall

A country struggling mightily. To give young freedom birth: The unborn infant, yet shall be The Giant of the Earth!"

SAVE OUR COUNTRY By Jane Gay Fuller

Save our country! O. our fathers ! Is our feeble woman-cry : See you not the tempest gathers Black and blacker in the sky !

See you not the night-clouds hover O'er our nation's rising sun ! Save our country ! save our country! Patriot sons of Washington !

Save our country! O, our brothers! Ye are strong of heart and hand : Sisters, wives and tender mothers Call you forth, a hero band. Say, shall despots point a finger At our young Republic's grave While a drop of blood doth linger In the pulses of our brave!

O. our fathers! O. our brothers! Waive your parties and your creeds :

Leave contentions unto others. While a wounded nation bleeds. Clasp your hands in close communion. In the fellowship of RIGHT.

Pledged to save our glorious Union. By your wisdom and your might.

While your brave feet walk with dangers, Weeping eyes will watch and wake: Should ye fall afar with strangers. Loving hearts will ache and break. But with Freedom's flag outspreading, Never could ye nobler die. Than your blood for honor shedding On the fields of victory.

893

HISTORY OF WINDHAM COUNTY

Go then, fathers! go then, brothers! Is our agonizing cry ; Gentle sisters, wives and mothers Urge you forth to "do or die!" While the gloomy night clouds hover O'er our nation's rising sun, Save our country ! save the Union ! Patriot sons of Washington !

SUGAR BROOK-A MEMORY OF BOYHOOD By William Henry Burleigh

It ran through the green old meadows Where we as children played, With a shimmering gloam in the sunlight, A gloom in the dappled shade ; And under the rippling waters Did the smooth white pebbles look

Like lumps of crystal sugar, So we called it "Sugar Brook."

In the overhanging beeches The robin and bobolink Sang all the summer morning To the kine that came to drink; And the brook with a drowsy murmur Sent forth its answering tune To the bees in the nodding clover Through the still, bright days of June.

There I went to fill my runlet From the spring beneath the birch, Or to wile, with pin-made fish-hook From its depths, the shining perch ; And I thought-'twas a childish fancy- That never was brook so fair, And never such musical song-birds As sang from the beeches there.

There I forded the crystal shallows With trousers rolled up from my legs, Or foraged the clumps of alder For the black birds' speckled eggs ; And Nature, the dear old mother, Stole silently into my heart, And the beautiful lore she taught me Is still of my life a part.

894

HISTORY OF WINDHAM COUNTY

JOHN PHILO TROWBRIDGE

John Philo Trowbridge, who contributes "The Story of Eastford," and selec- tions from whose poetic sketches are included in the chapter of "Windham County Verse," was born in Eastford, December 10, 1849, son of Philander Trowbridge, born in Eastford (then Ashford), November 26, 1807, and Har- riet Durfee, born in Killingly, September 25, 1811. They were married in Kil- lingly March 30, 1834. Mrs. Trowbridge died in 1888, and her husband in 1891.

JOHN PHILO TROWBRIDGE

John Philo Trowbridge attended public school in his native town; then Nor- wich Free Academy ; spent one year at Amherst College, and was graduated from Yale Divinity School May 14, 1874. He united with the church at Eastford in January, 1865, at the age of fifteen, under the ministry of Rev. Charles Chamberlin. For a period from 1866-1870 was a civil engineer, but since grad- uation in 1874 has been constantly in the service of the Christian ministry of the Congregational Church. He was ordained at Standish, Maine, September 17, 1874, remaining there until November, 1881; then in Connecticut at West Woodstock, 1882-88; Bethlehem, 1888-91; Eastford, 1891-1901; then in Massa- chusetts at Rochester, 1901-08; West Groton, 1908-18; since then at Inter- laken, Mass.

He was married in New Haven, Conn., May 15, 1874, the day following his graduation, and went immediately to the pastorate of his first church at Standish, Me. Mrs. Trowbridge was Miss Clara P. Hooker of Brimfield, Mass., older daughter of Mr. Andrew J. and Esther Goodspeed Hooker, and granddaughter of Major Hooker of Southbridge. Mrs. Trowbridge attended Hitchcock Academy at Brimfield, and was a successful teacher until her marriage. She is active in church and Sunday school .work. They have one daughter, Esther Hooker,

HISTORY OF WINDHAM COUNTY 895

born in Standish, Maine, June 9, 1879. She was graduated at the Woodstock Academy, also at Wheaton College in 1901, and was class poet ; taught in private school until her marriage to Joseph Priestley Catlin on June 9, 1904, at Wood- stock. Mr. Catlin is now manager of the General Electric plant (formerly the Remington Arms Company) in Bridgeport, Conn. He is a graduate of M. I. T., 1901. They have one child, Joseph Priestly Catlin, Jr., born in Lynn, Mass., May 23, 1910; fifth in descent from Joseph Priestly of England and America, the celebrated chemist, the discoverer of oxygen, and the earliest Unitarian minister in America.

Mr. Trowbridge has written many prose articles for the press, mainly of biographical and historical nature. His poems have appeared from time to time in the newspapers and magazines. He has published sermons of special value as records of New England parishes.

THE HELPLESS BROOK * By John Philo Trowbridge

There was a brooklet in a field Where level meadows lay : And, though she wished it all her life, She never ran away.

And, since she could not skip and jump, And romp, and dance, and cry, The people in the neighborhood, All said that she would die.

But, while the hapless little brook Found nothing else to do, She nestled down and went to sleep, Forgetting me and you.

And as she slept, an unseen friend,- Full gentle, strong, and proud,- Took little Brooklet in his arms, And placed her on a cloud.

And there, above the stagnant meads She danced and sailed away,- The happiest, merriest little Miss That ever saw the day.

And all the peaceful rivulets That in the meadows dwell Are joyful now, not caring what Their neighbors have to tell.

* This little poem was a favorite with the late Theron Brown.

896

HISTORY OF WINDHAM COUNTY

THE WOLF DEN

By John Philo Trowbridge

It had been there-that old den- Been there waiting long before Putnam and the Pomfret men Gathered at its granite door.

E'er the earliest settler's day,- E'er the red-man crossed the hill,- E'er the wild beasts passed that way,- That old den had been there still.

All the ages long it slept On the forest's rugged breast :

Nature knew the gem she kept, But her children never guessed.

Till, one day, the baying hound, And the eager cry of men Told to all the region round That a wolf was in the den.

Then-as it is often told- Putnam with his trusty gun Entered where the wolf had fled, When the hunt and chase were done.

Flash ! and the dark place was lit With a never-dying flame : Sound of triumph ! and with it Echoes an immortal name. Feb. 27, 1892

"SPEAK, LORD, FOR THY SERVANT HEARETH"

By John Philo Trowbridge

[For the Transcript, October 10, 1917]

Through famed Seville, one leisure day, Murrillo's friends were being led : "Why don't you finish right away Your picture of the Christ ?" they said.

The painter, in whose dreaming eye A thousand fancies mingled free, Unto his guests thus made reply : "I wait for Christ to speak to me."

897

HISTORY OF WINDHAM COUNTY

The busy years fled swiftly by ; The canvas hung unfinished still ; Murillo's final hour drew nigh, And he was weak-in all but skill.

"O Christ," he prayed, "speak ! for I ask Only to follow thy command, And finish, if I may, my task Ere death shall seize my eager hand."

In famed Seville today we see Murillo's painting, free from loss, And men of high and low degree Kneel at his "Christ upon the Cross."

Perchance the world calls us today, And makes the present time its plea ; Then, happy he who yet can say : "I wait for Christ to speak to me."

ASHFORD By John Philo Trowbridge

They tell one that the place is dead, An old, forsaken town, And only aged footsteps tread Its highways rough and brown.

The houses, empty and forlorn, Are going to decay ; And fields that heard the noonday horn Are still the livelong day.

The faces that we used to seek, The lips we loved to kiss, The tender voices we heard speak, Have vanished long 'ere this.

But still, for one a sacred charm Pervades each silent glen ; The pictures Time hath touched with harm My fancy paints again.

The church, the school, the flowery lane, The tavern on the hill, Lie clustered on life's sheltered plain Beyond the reach of ill. ;

Amid those scenes my boyhood built Its castles in the air;

Vol. 1-57

898

HISTORY OF WINDHAM COUNTY

And friendship's flowers which never wilt Were deeply planted there.

And now with care-encumbered mind I head those sheltered ways My soul is neither deaf nor blind To joys of other days.

But still those joys come trooping down, Like angels from above, To make that grand, old country town An Eden-place of love.

MY COTTAGE FIRE

By John Philo Trowbridge

Let others admire the great open fire When night winds blow chill o'er the garth,

But give me the glow of coals dying low, And only one stick on the hearth.

"Tis then that the room, half-hidden in gloom, Seems wondrously sheltered apart,

And memories sweet, on swift-flying feet, Come back through the door of my heart.

And I bid them remain, as if seraphim came, And we muse in the silence and gloom, While the embers decay, and the light fades away, And stillness encircles the room.

MARY MASON

A LOCAL LEGEND

By John Philo Trowbridge

[The following verses were written in the summer of 1867 after the author had attended a picnic of Pomfret young people on Quinebaug River, near "Cot- ton's Bridge." It is a well known fact that the country along the river, includ- ing parts of Pomfret, was originally purchased from the Indians by Captain Mason and Major Fitch. One of the daughters of the first named proprietor was called Mary ; and the author of these verses had heard, while a student in Norwich Free Academy, of the romantic courtship of Mary Mason and a young sailor boy, who was supposed to be lost at sea, but who, true to the girl's firm hope and trust, finally came back, landing at "Trading Cove," a spot still known on the Thames below Norwich, and found his faithful sweetheart waiting in her home beside the Quinebaug River.]

899

HISTORY OF WINDHAM COUNTY

Quinebaug River is deep and wide, And it bears the boat on its sunny tide As merrily now as of old it bore To the early homes by its quiet shore The lumberman's craft, or the gundelow, From the Thames that gleamed in its quiet flow Where that beautiful river, with meadow and grove, Broadens leisurely out into "Trading Cove."

Once on a time, when I need not say, Through all of a winter's frosty day Mary Mason within her home Sat spinning the flax for her mother's loom.

And she spun it neatly, and twisted it fine,

For her dainty fingers let never a line From the distaff's load run carelessly down To cover the spindle with glossy brown And her voice so sweet, to the tune of her wheel Sang a song of love, while the treadle of steel Upwards and downwards went all the time To measure the notes of the maiden's rhyme :

Go around and around My wheel for me, Till my bonnie good ship Comes over the sea.

And around and around Go all the day, Till ye bring me my love From afar away.

Thus she sat by the fire, and sang and spun From the morning-dawn till the day was done, Brushing her tresses, so long and soft, Back from her forehead, as rising oft, She stole from her wheel to her mother's side, And watched for a moment the shuttle glide Backward and forth through the web in the loom Where the sun shone in through the afternoon.

Fair as a gossamer in the dews- Newly woven, with varied hues Of the meadow-grass lying underneath, And a mossy tint, or a fragrant wreath Of wild flowers showing, and arching roof Of lilies above it, the web and woof Of the flaxen cloth, like a Scottish plaid, In the loom of the household was being made.

900

HISTORY OF WINDHAM COUNTY

From early till late with her ready hands Thus Mary Mason spun dainty strands ; And as she wrought, like a bird in June, Her voice and her heart sang the old love-tune Till a light kindled up in her soft blue eyes, And under the brightness of summer skies She seemed to see in a pleasant glade Overarched by the maple's peaceful shade, In this dear old town where we now reside With houses of plenty on every side, A beautiful home, her home, all fair, With flowers around it, and children there, And joy, and duty, and toil so sweet Where love is the prompter of willing feet.

But the fond dream died, and the picture passed From her heart away, as outward she cast Her glances about her, and saw the snow Piling the window, or felt the glow Of the hearthfire flame beaming up in her face Till it touched her cheek with its gentle grace, And lighted the rude-furnished room, so tame And narrow-walled, with a tender flame. Then a smile stole over her face as she thought What vagrant fancies had interwrought, And tangled themselves in her childish brain, And uttered their voice in the old refrain :

Go around and around My wheel for me, Till my bonnie good ship Comes over the sea.

And around and around Go all the day, Till ye bring me my love From afar away.

And she said to herself : "I must not repine, Or wish for a lot that were other than mine, For if he comes not who one summer's day Told me he loved me, and went his way, Then-but no, for truly it ne'er can be That he has forgotten his love for me, And when the spring with her softened hands Shall break from the river its icy bands He will come with his boat on its quiet tide To take me away as his happy bride."

901

HISTORY OF WINDHAM COUNTY

Ah, beautiful river with Indian name, Gliding noiselessly down through meadow and plain, And bearing along, on thy winding way, As I sit beside thee this summer day, Bright green tufts from the lowlands mown, And washed from the glittering sythes, or strown From the hay-boy's fork, I listen to hear The loving words of that distant year When Mary Mason pledged her hand and heart To her sailor lad who had gone apart Far over the deep blue sea to roam And leave her waiting within her home.

And fain would I see that lover's boat Lightly along they margin float Where water-lillies now softly wave, And in thy fulness their whiteness lave. Glad would I wait, and watch by thy tide If thus I might see the man and his bride Sail merrily by as they did one morn When the earth was springing with tender corn. But that may not be, for time hath told All that remains of the legend old, And over the grave of the blue-eyed maid Summer and winter have often strayed

While the flowers of the field that never spin

Sing sweetly above her their evening hymn, And a low soft echo almost divine Answers forever the maiden's rhyme :

Go around and around My wheel for me For my bonnie good ship Has come over the sea.

Not round and around Go all the day For ye've brought me my love From afar away.

MY CASTLE By John Philo Trowbridge

Today I built a castle in the air ; And when the sun had set I left it there Complete, as I supposed, in every part- An imitation of old English art. The massive walls were clad with ivy green, The turrets pointed toward the vast unseen, The windows, set to face the shining day,

902

HISTORY OF WINDHAM COUNTY

Like gods appeared with hands outstretched to pray. The moat was filled from yon sweet mountain stream, The draw-bridge balanced on its central beam, The brazen gates on steady hinges rocked, And every one was firmly barred and locked ; And in my hand I hold, as all may see, The deeded title and the palace key. The latest artisan has said "Good-bye"- My castle stands perfected in my eye.

Tomorrow, furnished it shall be throughout ; And all the grounds, with roses set about, Shall lure the bee to every opening flower ; While singing birds make glad the morning hour. And on the next day, ere the sun goes down, I hope to leave awhile the noisy town, And in my castle, far removed from care, To take my rest, and say my evening prayer. Amusement I will have, and music's power Shall greet my spirit in the quiet hour. My mind shall oft be filled with calm delight, As richest volume open to my sight, And rare old pictures from the vaulted hall Shed mellow warmth and color over all. An equipage shall be at my command ; And servants always at my table stand. The baying hounds shall follow where I roam, Or greet me as their master nearing home; While fattening herds and ample flocks abound In every field that skirts my castle round. My friends, of whom a host I hope to hold, All duly grateful, and most gently bold, Shall come to visit me at my estate When spring is gay, or autumn's frosts are late. And gain from me the welcome of my heart, And take a blessing when they hence depart. But best of all-my richest legacy- A wife, devoted, there shall bide with me, A constant, sweet companion at my side, The equal object of my love and pride. And in the sunshine of our mutual joy Shall come to dwell a little girl and boy. Two cherubs, like two stars, to shine at night Above the tower that bears my flags in sight.

Ah me! My castle, I did surely say That thou wast builded in one blessed day ? But no indeed, a thrice repeated no ! Thou art not yet complete! Thy ramparts grow Far more extensive with each airy touch

903

HISTORY OF WINDHAM COUNTY

Of fancy's hand, that ever raiseth such As lean upon her arm, until they view Beyond our forests the cerulean blue ! So I must wait until some future day Before my golden dream shall give her sway, And all my vaulted walls become complete. While tower to tower my bugle's notes repeat.

That castle that I thought today I made, The cost of which with smiles and tears I paid, Remains despoiled, like Gaza, on that day When all its gates were wrenched and borne away. The mighty man of God passed up the road, And took them with him as a boastful load, Too light to compass half his manly power, Or stay his onward course a single hour. When oft in dreams I think my labors past, And crowned with joys that shall forever last- When visions of some rest desired arise Transfused with hopes that bring a glad surprise I rudely wake to find the picture fair Dissolving, dreamlike, into vacant air. The incompleted, unattained desire, Which yesterday could all my heart inspire Awaits tomorrow's dawn-tomorrow's close, With all those coming hours may yet disclose Before perfection it may realize Amid the fadeless beauties of the skies. As long as human life hath smile or frown We build our castles, and then tear them down And build anew some holier, loftier shrine In closer pattern of the one divine Which stands forever near each noble life That knows the meaning of this world of strife.

So help me then, great Architect of all, Who makest clouds, and causest dews to fall, To whom the earth and air and ancient sea Have naught of cruel harm or mystery- So help me, that in ever statelier forms, Like crowns completed out of worthless thorns, I learn to fashion moments into days, And these to years of industry and praise ; E'er building with redoubled zeal and prayer Each incompleted castle in the air. Until at last, from all my tasks set free, My soul shall find her dwelling place with Thee.

904

HISTORY OF WINDHAM COUNTY THE KHAKI AND THE BLUE

A WAR-SONG

By William Henry Bishop; Music by the Rev. George F. Genung

A song under the direction of Herbert W. Smith at the Reception of the Woman's Club for Home Coming Soldiers and Sailors, at Danielson, Conn., November 6, 1918.

The bayonets are sharpened, The rifles sighted true. To ocean's shore by millions March the khaki and the blue. Brave hearts bound like the billows

O'er which our keels advance, As we hear the bugles calling From the gallant land of France.

CHORUS : O the khaki and the blue! and the blue ! O the khaki and the blue, true blue ! O the splendid deeds they do Shall make the Kaiser rue The coming of the khaki and the blue.

The ruthless, fell, oppressor Shall feel the deadly thrust Of the wrath that moves the patient, The stern ire of the just. He has made him monstrous gases,

That all human pity shame; But yet hotter fires are blazing In honest hearts aflame.

Yankee might shall thunder louder Than all the guns of Krupp, And the Hun in bitter measure Drink retribution's cup. For ne'er was prouder story, Nor higher patriot's goal, And bright shall be its glory On Fame's eternal roll.

Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.

A modern history of Windham county, Connecticut : a Windham county treasure book, Volume I, Part 109

Author: Lincoln, Allen B Publication date: 1920 Publisher: Chicago : S. J. Clarke publ. co. Number of Pages: 930

Author: Lincoln, Allen B
Publication date: 1920
Publisher: Chicago : S. J. Clarke publ. co.
Number of Pages: 930