USA > Massachusetts > Essex County > Topsfield > An address delivered at Topsfield in Massachusetts, August 28, 1850 : the two hundredth anniversary of the incorporation of the town > Part 9
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" Dr. E. Huntington, of Lowell, eldest son of the Rev. Asahel Huntington, formerly minister of Topsfield, was the President of the day. The Rev. Asa Cummings, of Portland, Me., the descendant of a Topsfield man, craved a blessing. When due justice had been done to the liberal provision on the table, the President, after a few happy remarks, by way of introduction, pro- ceeded to read the regular sentiments."
The speakers at the table were the Hon. Mr. Upham, of Salem ; Judge Cummins, of Dorchester ; Hon. Mr. Dodge, of Hamilton ; Messrs. B. A. Gould, of Boston ; N. Cleaveland, of Brooklyn; Ben Perley Poore, of Newbury ; Jacob Batchelder, of Lynn ; H. N. Perkins, of Boston, and Joel Peabody, of Topsfield. As there was no reporter present, no satisfactory account of what was said can be given. A brief outline of these speeches may be seen in the Essex County Mercury of September 4. The immense audience present listened to them with deep apparent interest. The following are the first and the last of the regular toasts :-
"This day of our solemnities : bright with memories of the Past,-with contemplations of the Present,-and with hopes of the Future."
XXXV
APPENDIX.
" Our country : its population, which in 1650, consisted of a few thousands, has swelled to many millions. The small dependent colonies of that day have grown into a great nation ; scarcely inferior to any other in numbers and power,-second to none in the better elements of prosperity, intelligence, good government, and true liberty. In view of a past and present so astound- ing, will any imagination venture to conceive what will be the grandeur and glory of North America, a century hence ? May prosperity attend the old town of Topsfield ! God save the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, and long pre- serve the Union."
During the exercises, the following song, written by Mrs. H. Huntington, of Lowell, was recited by the Orator of the Occasion :
SONG.
We, the relies of ages, have here met together, To say how d'ye do? to the past ; And to stop for discourse, Sir, Old Time, in his course, Sir, Who once, did not travel so fast.
Then, he'd pause on his walk, just to gossip and talk, As he shook a few sands from his glass ; Now, he travels by steam, shouting out with a scream, "Clear the track, for my engine to pass !"
Come ! just throw off your steam; tackle on your old team ; And jog on in the foot-path to-day :
We have met for a "talk ;" put your steeds on a walk, For, indeed, we've a great deal to say.
We've no victories to boast, and no herocs to toast, Save the victors of ploughshare and flail : The weapons we wield, leave no stain on the field, And no cheek in our warfare grows pale.
Well! as matters of pride, what have we beside Our sires, and our sons, and our soil ? We have mothers, and wives, the best gift of our lives, Sent to soften and cheer all our toil.
We have no rail-roads here, commanding to " clear Off the track, with your cart and your team !" No thousand-mile wire comes to us with its fire, More fleet than the sun's swiftest beam.
Our brook flows on still, just to carry our mill, And our mill, like our swine, is corn-fed ; Our girls work with their mothers, and live with their brothers, And are to home industry bred.
XXXVI
APPENDIX.
They bloom and they toil, on their own native soil, Shedding beauty and fragrance around, And no lovelier display, than we see here to-day, Could in court or in city be found.
"Tis true, they're not drest in their " blue homespun best," Once worn more for comfort than show, Our fair modern Jenny-is no spinning Jenny, And our maids are no milk-maids, you know.
Our swains are no more, as their grandsires of yore, " Clad in home-spun from head to the heel ; They have broadcloth for Mondays, as well as for Sundays, Without mother to spin or to reel.
Our boys, too, are shod-but their forefathers trod The green-sward with feet bare and free ; They could go to a husking without a light buskin, Or their trowsers strapped tight o'er the knce.
They could catch the old mare, and mounting back-bare, Trot off to the mill and the store, And like Gilpin, would ride, with a jug on each side, And a long bag of corn on beforc.
They'd a very good rule, Sir, which was taught them at school, Sir, Along with their A and their B;
When they met with their betters, those small men of letters, Had to bend both the head and the knee.
Time kceps jogging along, while I halt in my song, My Pegasus filly goes lame : I will take off my weight, he may "gang his ain gate," 'Tis hard his wild coursers to tame.
We have had a good mecting, and a right hearty greeting, With kinsfolk, acquaintance, and friends :
So we part not in sadness, but look forward with gladness To a meeting that never shall end.
A quartette, consisting of Messrs. W. R. Hubbard, B. Whitmore, G. H. Smith, and M. Horn, sung, with fine effect, the following
ODE.
BY MRS. S. D. PEABODY.
As children long from home away, Hail the glad jubilee, Which finds them all in fair array, Beneath the old roof-tree :-
XXXVII
APPENDIX.
So we to-day rejoicing come, Kindred and friends to greet, And give affection's tear to some We would, but cannot meet.
Here, where our happy childhood sped, 'Till graver years .drew on, And 'till, as varying fortunes led, We parted, one by one.
Here-where amid primeval shades, But not of classic fame, Our sires, from England's blooming glades, To toil and trial came :-
Here meet we-glad, a day's brief space To give to auld lang syne,- And o'er our fathers' resting-place, A garland green to twine.
Those fathers' memory we bless, Oft as we hear the tale, Whose hands transformed a wilderness To this delightful vale.
Yet, chiefly, that from them we gain, Through each successive age, A lineage without a stain, Our noblest heritage.
Their glory this-a virtuous name ! Earth has no richer crown : Spotless to us the honor came, Such let us pass it down.
The President announced that he had before him letters from several gen- tlemen, who had been invited by the Committee, but were unable to attend. Want of time prevented the reading of these letters, which were from Rev. Josiah Peabody, of Erzroom, in Persia; Hon. Daniel Breck, of Kentucky ; Rev. George Hood, of Southport, N. Y .; Rev. Jonas Merriam, Barnard, Me .; and N. Cleaveland Bradstreet, Rochester, N. Y., all natives of Topsfield. There were also letters from Judge Perkins and Judge White, of Salem, and the Rev. R. G. Dennis, of Grafton.
The movements of the procession, and the exercises at the Hill and in the Pavilion, were enlivened by the performances of a good instrumental band from Salem. The vocal music was executed by a skilful choir under the ad- mirable direction of Mr. William R. Hubbard-once a Topsfield boy, --- but now and long a successful chorister in Salem.
XXXVIII
APPENDIX.
" The thanks of the assembly were cordially voted to the Committee of Arrangements-(Messrs. Merriam, Cleaveland, Munday, Batchelder, Hood, and Towne)-and well did they deserve the tribute. The unqualified satisfaction expressed by all, whether citizens or strangers, in the entire proceedings of this delightful day, unmarred, as they were, by a single disturbance or failure, is the highest testimony which could be paid to the arrangements of the Committee, so well carried out by the chief Marshal and his aids."
The final exercise of the occasion was an original song, finely sung by Mr. Whitmore, to the tune of "Auld Lang Syne." Many " sweet tears dimmed the 'eyes, unshed," while a hundred voices enthusiastically joined to swell the choral' burden of that ever-touching air.
SONG.
I'll sing a song of other days, A tale of ancient time : Come, brothers all, the chorus raise, And lift a shout sublime. For auld lang syne, to-day, For auld lang syne, We've gathered and we'll chant a lay Of auld lang sync.
Praise to our sires, the axe who swung, First on the wooded plain, While wide the forest round them rung, And hills replied again. For auld lang syne, come out, For auld lang syne, And celebrate the woodsmen stout, Of auld lang syne.
In vain was bent the red man's bow, In vain his arrow sped, For soon repulsed, the savage foe To wilds remoter fled. For auld lang syne again, For auld lang syne, We sing those sturdy Englishmen Of auld lang syne.
Long o'er the land which they regained From Nature's ruder sway, Peace, order, justice, freedom reigned, A bright and tranquil day. For auld lang syne once more, For auld lang syne, We con the pleasing legends o'er Of auld lang syne.
APPENDIX. XXXIX
When dark Oppression, threat'ning, rose, And Might, usurping, grew, -- Submission base, the choice, or blows, To arms our fathers flew. For auld lang syne, these strains, For auld lang syne, We swell to those who broke our chains, In auld lang syne.
On Bunker's Hill of glorious name, And on the Hudson's side,
And many a deathless field of fame, They poured their hearts' warm tide. For auld lang syne, we shed, For auld lang syne, Our tears above the mighty dead Of auld lang syne.
Long may the rights those heroes won From Power's reluctant hand, Unmarred descend from sire to son, The glory of our land. For auld lang syne to-day, For auld lang syne, We've gathered and we've sung our lay Of auld lang syne.
The sun had not yet 'stretched out all the hills," when this large and pleased assembly adjourned-for one hundred years :- to meet again in the persons of their posterity, and in the year of our Lord one thousand nine hun- dred and fifty.
With strangely mingled sensations of satisfaction and regret, I write these closing and parting words. My humble labor is finished. It has been the not unpleasing toil of many an hour. It has sent me on a voyage of exploration- unwonted, indeed, but not, I trust, wholly fruitless-among the dim and"distant regions of the past. To the people of my native town, I commit and commend the result. I venture the hope that not a few of them will find, in the contem- plation of these old themes, a pleasure like that which I have experienced,-and that in some bosoms, they will revive, as they revive in mine, the bright remem- brances of youth :
" While up the tide of time we turn our sail,
To view the fairy haunts of long-lost hours."
2506 J'Jaune bought Jan. 4/78.
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