USA > Connecticut > New Haven County > Derby > The history of the old town of Derby, Connecticut, 1642-1880. With biographies and genealogies > Part 67
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III
Lo, turning the rocks at the Narrows, the sail of a Wooster2 appears, As a frontispiece quaintly engraven on the page of the book of the years ; The Riggses or Smiths with their axes, spring ashore and at once on the plains The wigwam gives place to the cabin, as the brute to the empire of brains.
One by one are the chimneys uplifted ; and the smoke of the fireside upcurls Through the forests of green, like an incense, as the banner of progress unfurls, Till the voice of the genius of labor like an anthem is heard in the land; And the young feet of commerce are planted on the marge of the Pootatuck strand.
The years sweep along in their cycles ; the soldiers fall out by the way ; And others step in their places for the fight of the ever to-day ; And the back of the worker is bended to the cross of his wearying toil ; Till he goes, like a tale that is ended, to rest in his covering soil.
Thus ever it is with the nations, as it is with the birth of men, With the throe and the pang of labor must the struggle of life begin ; Yet the laborer toward the surface-like the coral beneath the sea- Buildeth ever the deep foundations for the temple that is to be.
In the depths of his inner nature, as indeed in its outward form, · Man partakes of his near surroundings, of the sunshine or of the storm ; Of the mountain or of the valley, of the rocks and the savage wild ; As the rod of an angry father maketh forever an angry child :
So it was with these early pilgrims; they had cowered beneath the rod Of a church that was made by statute; and which only revered a God Of vengeance and retribution, of the eye that must have the eye, Who spake from the top of Sinai, but not upon Calvary.
And so, as from persecution they fled to the western wild, They prayed 'mid the howling tempests (to a God that had never smiled) For the sword of the sons of Levi, to smite the heretic crew ;- And the oppressed became the oppressor, as the tree of their fortune grew.
Though a host of the Christian virtues with them came on the westward wind, Yet the greatest of all was Charity, and that they had left behind, As but useless to fight the forest. Faith itself had not o'erthrown A single mountain ; as for Mercy, that belonged to the elect alone.
2Edward Wooster was really the first man to seek a residence in the Derby wilderness ; he desiring to raise hops on the meadow land in the valley below Ansonia. 86
682
HISTORY OF DERBY.
On every side was a daily battle with the rock and the thorny fen ; With the wolf and the savage panther, or with still more savage men ; Where were the wonder then or marvel that their worship was force and fear ? That so little was found to soften, where so little was found to cheer ?
And yet were they brave and noble; in their manhood were even grand ! E'en their errors are scarce remembered; since they came with an honest hand That was daily upon the pages of the well thumbed law and word, And which-as did read the letter-was the law that the conscience heard.
IV
The woods have come down from the hillside at the sound of the woodmen's stroke ; And the shipwright hath deftly fashioned the boughs of the sturdy oak Into vessels of strength and beauty, that have battled with every breeze, From the home of the frost and the winter, to the realms of the tropical seas.
And Gracie, and Humphreys, and Hopkins, on the wings of their gallant fleet, Have come from the Indian Islands with their fruits and their spices sweet; And Horsey, and Whiting and Sheffield, with hearts that were true and brave, With Nichols and Lewis and Keeney, have ploughed upon every wave ;
And Whitney, and Stone, at the " Landing," hath fraternity's " corner3 " laid, By the side of the temple of traffic, the mart of a busy trade. Yea, and where was the heathen council, and the stake with its savage rite, Stands the Church with its lifted finger, and the cot with its cheerful light ;
Where the voice of the sainted Mansfield, through his three-score years and ten, Tells the tale of the great redemption, for the lost of the sons of men ; And an Humphreys, with rugged doctrine-iron-clad, but true as steel- Standeth firm, like a giant statue, with the serpent beneath his heel !
And the sons of the plough and anvil lift their morning and evening prayer To their God for his daily bounty, and the arm of his daily care.
V
" The temple4 " yet stands by the river, overhanging the waters sweet, A relic of days departed ; but where are the busy feet That thronged its open portals? the lines of the country teams, In turn that awaited a "barter "? Gone, like the airy dreams
Of the maiden that pictured the glory of the " store " gown, gay and fine ! And the swain of his Sunday garment, from the looms that were over the brine. From the depths of the eastern valley comes the maidenly Paugasuck 5 With as tender a kiss as ever, for the cheek of the Pootatuck;
And together they take their journey, with its every-day ebb and flow, Hand in hand through the downward valley, as they did in the long ago. But the swain with his chosen maiden, that of old from the village kirk Hand in hand went into the forest, as the doves went into the ark,
3King Hiram Lodge.
4Old Leman Stone store.
5Referring to the confluence of the Naugatuck and Housatonic at Derby Narrows.
683
IN MEMORIAM.
With the ebb have gone steadily downward to the arms of the waiting sea ; Never again for aye returning from their journeying,-he or she ; - Yet they live in their deeds accomplished; in the acres of tardy soil That were wrung from the surly wilderness by the hands of their early toil.
Yea, they live in their children's glory; in the fruits of the rounded hills ; In the beauty of spire and turret ; in the clack of the busy mills ; For the step in the upward journey that would enter within the gates Must forever remain untaken, while the first on the threshold waits,
VI
Men may talk of deeds of conquest on the land or upon the main, Yet behind the scene is woman with her hand on the guiding rein ; So my muse, with pen historic, never more forget to bless Ruth, Naomi, and their daughters-blossoms of the wilderness,
Not a left-hand cypher, surely ; whoso either made a bride, Ever on life's outward journey, found an unit by his side, Pure of heart, and sweet of purpose, best beloved of sire and son, Yet was theirs an endless struggle with the labor "never done."
Few their wants indeed and simple ; once the year a gingham gown ; Costly silk and mantua makers, luxuries to them unknown ; What if on a Sabbath morning, o'er the meadow's dewy sod Went the maiden, dainty tripping, even to the house of God,
Ere she donned the precious slipper? Of the two that she possessed, Sole of art and sole of nature, nature's work would wear the best; What-although the bare suggestion should some modern maiden shock ;- What if at the church or party, she did wear the linsey frock ?
It was hers, her hands had won it ! carded, aye, had spun the wool ! Wove the cloth and made the garment ! was not then her triumph full ? Held she not as high a station-self-reliant, brave and firm- As some helpless slave of fashion trembling at a mouse or worm?
There she stands ! go bow before her, proud New England's Mother Queen ! "Naked feet !" Oh well, what matter, feet and hands and heart are clean ! Linsey dress, and home-made bonnet ? pockets, herb and fennel filled ? Aye, but in the time of trouble she was " herb " and wonder skilled.
First to give new eyes a greeting, last to catch the fleeting breath ; First to bring hope's consolation, last to leave the house of death ; " Naught for self but all for others-" this her motto; doing good- This her daily round of practice ! hers a life's beatitude.
Children's pride, and manhood's treasure ! best beloved of all, I ween ; There she stands ! go bow before her ! proud New England's Mother Queen !
684
HISTORY OF DERBY.
VII
It is night and, behold ! in the valley afar toward the blue of the sea, A white mist is rising in flashes over headland of crag and of tree ; And a sound, as if heavily breathing with lungs that were tireless and strong,
Over rocks, through the brushland and wildwood, some monster were charging along !
Clickety click, clickety click, round the headlands! Is that thunder which startles our ears ?
Or an earthquake which shakes the foundations, as the gleam of the head-light appears ? Stand aside ! for his breath is a whirlwind, and his eye is an ogre of flame ! And his feet they are shod with the lightnings, which only a master can tame,
Rings the bell ! like a flash we are speeding, as it were, on the wings of a dream ! Rings the bell! and the earth hath been circled by the genius of progress and steam ! We have spun round the sides of the mountain, we have whirled through the cave at its base ;
We have startled the wolf on the prairie, and have joined in the buffalo chase !
Yea, and e'en, as our journey we traveled, our life hath grown long on the way, For events have together been crowded, till an hour hath become as a day. The slow plodding coach hath departed on the tide of returnless years, And the echoing horn of its driver cometh never again to our ears,
E'en there's many a ship that hath folded its wings by its desolate side, As the genius of Fulton went smoking his pipe in the teeth of the tide ; And the lightnings of Morse play in concert of flashes from pole unto pole ; And the world groweth wiser, and better, for the whisper of soul unto soul.
VIII
The brooks that for ages have wasted their strength as they glided along, In and out through the deeps and the shallows, to the notes of their rhythmical song, At the last have awoke to their mission, as their hands they have placed to the wheel, And the echoes have mingled their music with the clash of the hammer and steel.
The castle hath sprung to the hillside, at the touch of the genii of gold : And the cottage hath grown in its shadows, like the vine of the prophet of old ; And the churches that rise on the summit-with the story of mercy on high, And their back on the ancient traditions-point an easier road to the sky.
The floors of the parlor and kitchen are bright with the fruits of the loom, Where a moment or two with the " sweeper" does the work of the tardier broom. And the sound of the pipe and the viol is heard at the cottager's door, In the place of the whirr of the spindle that furnished the music of yore.
Hark ! along through thy valleys, Paugasuck, and thy hills, like the trill of a bird, The voice of a Kellogg6 re-echoes a sound that the nations have heard ! And long shall it live in thy story, how a maiden of beauty among Thy hills, first attuned unto nature the voice of an empress of song.
6Clara Louise Kellogg, born in New Hartford, Conn., but for many years a resident of Derby.
685
IN MEMORIAM.
The hero may conquer a city, and the widow and orphan are sad ; But the songstress hath conquered a nation, and the hearts of its people are glad ; The hero shall sleep with his fathers, and his laurels decay on his breast, But the song shall re-echo forever, in a world that it brightened and blessed.
From a brain that with genius is pregnant, in time comes a marvelous birth, And the hand of a Howe hath out-scattered his pins to the ends of the earth. Lo, one side is a roll of bright metal that looks like a thread of pure gold ! It is caught and is cut and is sharpened, it is headed and hammered and rolled,
And is straightened and burnished and sorted, and "stuck " on a paper for sale, Almost in the time it has taken to tell you the wonderful tale !
O genius, how grand thy achievements, that can build from thy wonder domains A machine scarcely less than immortal, lacking only a handful of brains !
And now cometh one from the arctic, with its secret of light and of force, And a "horse shoe " is made that can " draw" more than all the rest of the horse ! Nay, Wallace,7 I would not speak lightly : by and by 'twill be seen at a glance How the thing that was hounded " a failure," was indeed but a step in advance.
Lead on ! let the world have its doubting : there is ever in waiting a cheer, And " I told you,"-when cometh the triumph-from the laggards that hang in the rear.
A machine takes a bite at some lumber ; there's a whirr of a wheel and a band, And, as if by the magic enchanter, a church has gone up in the land, Where to do up our praises by proxy ; and to hear every Sabbath the Word, And to pin up our prayers on the pulpit, with a "them are my sentiments, Lord."
Where old wine goeth into new bottles, but the new never into the old, For fear that the thing will go bursting, ere the wax on the stopper is cold : Wait! the day is at hand when the " doxies " shall hamper no more or deceive ; When all men shall believe as they worship, and worship because they believe.
Hark ! a voice that betokens of madness ! the gun of the traitor is heard ! And the drums beat to arms in our valleys, and the ploughman has put on his sword. The foe hath been met, and the bondmen from the lash and the shackle are free, And the pathway of freedom is open forever, from sea unto sea. The bones of the martyr are bleaching where his battles have come to an end; But unscathed in its glory and honor, is the flag that he fought to defend.
E'en the muses have dwelt in our borders ; there is Croffut8, a favorite son, That for sharp-cutting quatrain or couplet, ranks ever as second to none ; And a voice there was once of a "Nydia,9" as sweet as the notes of a dove ! And a "Linwood10" whose lyrical numbers were tuned to the music of love.
7Wm. Wallace the electrician, who was the constructor of a horse shoe magnet for Yale College, having power to lift two thousand pounds, also the inventor of an electric light.
8W. A. Croffut of the New York Tribune, well known in the political world as a satirical writer of ability, also as the writer of many beautiful poems.
9Mrs. Kellogg, a poetess of thirty years ago (mother of the famous songstress), a lady of rare genius and accomplishments, both in literature and the arts.
10Mrs. H. M. Cooke, well known as Lottie Linwood and author of a volume of poems entitled " Gold Thread."
686
HISTORY OF DERBY.
And back of all these was a Humphrey, that sang from the mountains of Spain11, In behalf of the land of his fathers a bright and prophetical strain.
For our Press we have Newson, and Bacon, the Alpha and Omega, between Whom are printed some names ad interim in appropriate shading of green ; Poor souls, that of course were mistaken-but they dreamed that an editor's stool Was the place on the earth, of all others, to be filled by the average fool. Yet each in his way had a mission-though harassed and misunderstood, --- Picking up the "down threads " in life's story, doing ever the best that they could.
And the Doctor-be careful now, muses-'tis a question of life or of death ! Yet surely our good village Doctor should have place in our memory wreath ; Who for two score of years hath done battle with the demons of weakness untold ! That hath stood with his hand on our pulses, day and night, without asking for gold.
To strive, in a moment of freedom, for a "nap " but to hear the "alarm," And to fly at its beck and its bidding, through the night and the pitiless storm,- O Beardsley ! thy life, though but humble, sheweth more of the hero and true, Than is back of full many a laurel that is wreathed on the conqueror's brow.
IX
The school-house of old, with its benches of slabs, where the fathers were taught, Hath grown in the soil of the present to a temple of science and thought ; And the knight of the rod, and the ferrule, for his stipend that " boarded around," Giveth place to the high-toned professor with his head full of matters profound.
We miss the old hat in the window, and the writing bench whereon our name Was cut with some hieroglyphics that had put an Egyptian to shame ; And the " box-stove " so guileless of blacking, and the desk in the midst of the floor Where the " contraband " top and the whistles were shelved by the dozen or more.
Through the door comes a fair little maiden that once in my boyhood I knew, And I stop in my story to wonder if ever that " fortune " came true,
That the old gypsy told her one morning,-how a tall man would come from the sea, With a ship and cargo of treasures for the bride it was hers yet to be ?
I think that she half did believe it, for the thought oft is child of the wish ; And how did she know but the ocean had, for her, just that kind of a fish ? Dear little, brown little maiden ! wherever thy lot hath been cast,
If thy " ship " hath come in yet, I know not : if nay, it will come at the last :,
For the " tall man," indeed was the angel that leads from mortality forth ; And the " sea " was the mighty forever, and the " treasure "-it was not of the earth.
11Gen. David Humphreys's poem on the future glory of America.
687
IN MEMORIAM.
There was Dayboll, and Murray, and Webster, with the "boy" and the man with the "grass,"
And the " cat in the meal " and the "milkmaid " that dreamed of her beautiful dress; But the Dayboll hath forty successors, and the Murray as many more still ; And our spelling books now go in numbers, like the homeopathical pill ; For every year comes ye book agent, and he gives to ye teacher ye wink, And ye old books are voted insipid, and ye agent-he taketh the "jink."
In the old time, 'twas "three months of schooling " and nine to " gymnast " with the hoe,
Or the axe, or the flail, or the barrow, to plant or to reap, or to mow. But in these days our boys go to college as soon as home training will do; To study for-" batter " or " pitcher " or to paddle some college canoe.
In the old time the girls with their mothers learned to spin, and to weave and to sew ; Or to send from the throne of the kitchen the roast and the savory stew ; But in these days, they too go to college-to Vassar, or Harvard, may be- To study whatever comes handy, and to take, more or less, of " degree."
To talk of the world of dynamics, or the latest Darwinian doubt, Or-their word for 't-to be "dying " or "crazy " to know how that story " came out." If our boys know too little of labor, it is theirs in the future to learn That the seeds that are sown without struggle bring seldom the noblest return.
And our girls who may dream of a "mission " outside in the world of to-day, May find that their mothers, for ages, have not traveled far out of the way, In finding their " sphere " at the fireside, in the sweets and delights of the home ; Leaving man with his ruggeder nature, in the world of ambition to roam.
Some mistakes there may be to be righted. The pendulum swings to extremes ; The dew-drop that forms in the darkness, a gem in the orient gleams ; So by and by, when we are older, and our "notions " have softened away, Our daughters shall shine as the dew-drop in the light of the orient day,
That cannot be long in the coming ;- indeed, there be some that I know Already like blossoms of beauty, that sweeten wherever they go,- That have come, as it were, on a "mission " to man from some happier realm : His equal ! yea, more than his equal, the angel that holdeth the helm ;
Pure souls, with whom life is no bubble, to sparkle and break into tears ; Brave hearts that with face to the sunlight move on through the vale of the years. For such, O my brother, be thankful, the gem is inore precious if rare ; But the poorest of all in creation is the soul that has "nothing to wear."
Let our children be taught that an idler, is debtor to air and to soil ; That the glory of man or of woman, is the hand that is hardened by toil ; And that who to his face in the waters throws the crust of his worshiping bread, Findeth never a current returning, and the shadow, it never is fed. So that, as we write out our story, on the future of history's page, We may keep, with the beauty of progress, the wisdom and glory of age.
688
HISTORY OF DERBY.
Fair Paugasuck, Queen of the Valley! the footprints have scarce been erased From the sod underlying thy pavements, where Reynard but lately was chased ; Still wet are thy feet with the morning ! and yet with thy gables and spires, Thou had'st e'en have been counted a marvel, in the days of our patriot sires.
Doth it need then the ken of the prophet, to read in the palm of thy hand, In the strong lines by nature engraven, the tale of a destiny grand ? The muse may be never a prophet, yet the child hath been born that shall hail Thy sceptre for beauty unquestioned, the queen of the hill and the vale,
Though the river a moment flow backward, with forces upgathered and strong, O'er the rocks in its way that impeded, it goes with a shout and a song ! And so in the stream in the future, I see for our beautiful hills A history bright with the glory, that the soul of the patriot fills.
For the virtues of old are not buried; the puritan liveth to-day; But the rock that impeded his nature, by the stream hath been fretted away, Till the current flows broader and deeper, and the growth of the reed, and the fern Giveth place on our banks to the blossom,-prophetic of fruit in its turn- That shall grow to millennial graces, in the dawn of some happier morn.
GENEALOGIES.
87
PREFACE TO THE GENEALOGIES.
THE Genealogies are not as complete as it was intended they should be, but the work has grown to such extended propor- tions that it is inexpedient to add to the material thus far obtained. Much time has been given to this department of the work, but the material was so scattered, and the families, mostly, have been so indifferent to the subject, that more than is given, has not been obtained. Eleven volumes of land records of the town have been searched, leaf by leaf, and every date of birth, marriage or death, copied carefully, although many dates had to be deciphered by the aid of a high magnifying glass. Dur- ing the Revolution, and for some time after, there was great indifference entertained to the making of records of birth in the town books, and hence many of the families seem to end at that period. Also the records of baptisms in the First Con- gregational church ends at that period, although those in the Episcopal church are continued.
Every name and date recorded before 1800, that could be found, is printed.
In consequence of the largeness of the work it is necessary to omit the index to the Genealogies, but the family genealo- gies are not lengthy, and being in alphabetic order can easily be glanced over ; and also, there are but very few surnames in the Genealogies that are not in the index.
GENEALOGIES.
ADEE. JOHN, m. Hannah Johnson, Mar. 22, 1775. Children :
2. Sarah, b. Aug. 6, 1775, m. John Craw- 3. William, b. Jan. 2, 1780.
ford, Dec. 13, 1795- 4. Dorcas, b. Mar. 13, 1785.
ALLEN, DAVID, m. Eleanor Smith, Dec. 27, 1769. Children :
I. Hannah, b. Mar. 8, 1771. 4. Eleanor, b. Sept. 20, 1780.
2. Elizabeth, b. Aug. II, 1773.
5. David, d. Feb, 12, 1789.
3. Ephraim, b. Dec. 25, 1775.
ALLEN, SAMUEL, m. Susannah - Child :
I. Fitch, b. Sept. 25, 1782.
ANDRUS, EPHRAIM, m. Sarah Humphrey, Mar. 21, 1745. Children :
I. Hannah, b. June 22, 1745. 2. Desire, b. Mar. 18, 1747.
I. BALDWIN, SERG. RICHARD, of Milford was the son of Sylvester Baldwin, who died June 21, 1638, on the passage from England in the ship Martin, and his wife Sarah (Bryan) Baldwin. He was baptized in the Parish Aston Clinton, Buckinghamshire, England, August 25, 1622, and. perhaps, came with his father. Among the names of the planters at New Haven in 1643, appears Widow Baldwin, five in the family, estate £800. Richard evidently had a good education for the times, and possessed much energy and enterprise of character but precarious health, of which he complained to the Court as a reason why he had not made greater progress in settling Paugassett. He married, Feb- ruary 5, 1642-3, Elizabeth Alsop, sister of Joseph of New Haven, and died July 23, 1665, and his estate was presented at Hartford, Septem- ber 23, 1665. His eldest son received a double portion ; his youngest child, born after his death, being omitted altogether. His widow m. in 1670. William Fowler, son of William the first in Milford. Rich- ard Baldwin was the leading man of the ten who purchased land, and began the settlement of Derby.
2. Elizabeth, bapt. Sept., 1644, in Milford; m. Zachariah Burwell.
3. Sylvanus, bapt. Nov. 20, 1646.
4. Sarah, bapt. Apr., 1649; m. Samuel Riggs.
5. Temperance, bapt. June 29, 1651; m. Nathan Burwell.
6. Mary, bapt. Nov. 6, 1653; m. Daniel Comstock.
7. Theophilus, bapt. Apr. 26, 1659.
8. Zachariah, Sept. 22, 1660.
9, Martha, bapt. Apr. 1, 1663,
IO. Barnabus, 1665.
BALDWIN, JOSIAH, came to Derby and m. Mary Pierson, Sept. 19, 1700. The first grant of land made to him by the town seems to have been in Jan., 1712-13. Children :
I. Josiah, b. Sept. 7, 1701.
2. Mary, b. Oct. 1I [out] ; d. Oct. 28, 1704.
3. Hezekiah, b. Aug. 20 [out]; d. Aug. 29, 1705.
4. Jared, b. Mar. 23, 1707 ; d. Nov. 11, 1707.
5. Hezekiah, b. Jan. 15, 1711 ; d. March 12, 1713.
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