History of the town of Milford, Worcester county, Massachusetts, from its first settlement to 1881, Part 55

Author: Ballou, Adin, 1803-1890
Publication date: 1882
Publisher: Boston : Rand, Avery, & co.
Number of Pages: 1328

USA > Massachusetts > Worcester County > Milford > History of the town of Milford, Worcester county, Massachusetts, from its first settlement to 1881 > Part 55

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We've read how, on that midnight field, he rushed against the foe, And drove the swarming Boys in Gray where they'd no wish to go; But he has kindly come to-day, where Milford's friends rejoice, Permitting us to see his face, and listen to his voice.

Oh! where's the man with moral poise in perfect trim maintained, Who would not lose what he has lost, to gain what he has gained?

You have your lawyers, Milford, now: when I was here you'd none. I never saw them till to-day, except the senior one. I recollect him very well, just how he seemed to me One day, when reading sentences in his Latinity,

He read how Virgil, sick in bed, and ready to expire, Besought his friends to get his works, and throw them in the fire. Your lawyer heaved a long-drawn sigh, as if exceeding sad, And said, with all his legal force, " I wish to Heaven they had!" From such a trait of character, I think we cannot doubt -

He will not get folks in a broil, but rather keep them out.

When Milford used to look out west, she saw, on yonder hill, A rather proud but pleasant town; and it is pleasant still. She had her stores and her hotels, and tough old limbs of law; And 'twas the last of these assets that gave her most éclat : And nervous people oftentimes would almost have a fit For fear they'd be arrested on a warrant or a writ. But now, forsooth, her merry boys, who would be sued, or sue, Must come, O Milford! all the way adown the hill to you. And as for stores, unless indeed, I, in this matter, err, You have enough to wholesale goods a full supply to her. But gallant Milford must not feel that 'tis alone her skill That has thus caused her to outstrip her neighbor on the hill; For God himself assists us oft in many ways, we know, And doubtless Milford is so high, because she is so low. If locomotives, with their trains upon their glittering rails, Could run up hill as easily as o'er our plains and vales, Then Mendon, grand old Mendon, might (the wisest cannot tell) Have grown as fast as Milford has, and cut as wide a swell.

497

HON. CHARLES THURBER'S POEM.

She has already dropped a town, and I believe 'tis true She manufactures cloth enough for fifty towns like you.

When Milford used to look out east to see the morning sky, That classic mountain called Bear Hill first met the gazer's eye. 'Twas called Bear Hill, because, forsooth, in every copse and lair You might have hunted all the year, and never found a bear; And had Elisha walked the streets, and boys and girls had said, "Go up, bald head! Go up, bald head! " till echo answered " head," No lady bears, however much their cubs desired to sup, Would, at his call, have kindly come and chewed the children up.

Excuse this little episode: 'tis only mentioned here To show that Milford's pioneers could work without a fear, And trained their children all so well to manage their affairs, Without that awful, awful threat, of calling out the bears.

But still, a bard with but four years of Milford in his brains, Can hardly hope complete success in these centennial strains; For since those four delightful years their merry rounds have run, She has her mightiest acts performed, her greatest victories won. For though it cannot be supposed, or, if supposed, believed, That her own home-born citizens have all these feats achieved; Yet he can say the rich, rich fruits of all these after years Are much indebted to the lives of Milford's pioneers. For when outsiders looked to town, and saw on every side How fast her industries sprang up, and homesteads multiplied, And each was busy at his work, and happy as a lord (For enterprise and industry are sure of their reward), They cried, " Ho, ho for Milford, boys! where we can fortunes make, And there enough is going on to keep us wide awake. And if example can inspire to think, contrive, and dare, That inspiration we can find in every breath of air; And that success, where all around for grand achievements press, Make travel easier on the road 'twixt effort and success." And so outsiders gayly flocked, and joined the thick array, And helped to make the Milford then the Milford of to-day. The fresh recruits from day to day, almost from hour to hour, Unite in helping progress on, and adding to her power. And native-born and foreign-born you scarce can tell apart: They're all at work to keep in tune old Milford's throbbing heart.

Her public schools, as old as she, where Milford's girls and boys Have gained the light, and learned the skill for changeful life's employs, Are sacred things which every sect and every party blend To watch and guard and rally round, and foster and defend. And palsied be the Harpy hand that should, in hatred, dare To blot the precious treasure out, or injure it a hair.

498

HISTORY OF MILFORD.

And now, O Milford! I must close: a loftier Muse than mine Should have portrayed, on this glad day, what glorious deeds are thine, And drawn, in lines of magic skill, a portraiture, to show How Celt and Saxon can unite, and peace and plenty flow; How creeds of every hue and shade for public good unite, And make the field on which they act a garden of delight; And sturdy zealots, bracing back against their stubborn creeds, Help push the car of progress on like gallant prancing steeds; And if they sometimes seem to steer by quite a different star, They only push at different points of that same public car. And if some push the other way until the carriage shakes, And all on board expect a crash, they only serve as brakes; And if they stand upon the track, and try to wreck the train, They need not enter into bonds that they'll not try again.

You may have struggles nowadays of which I do not know, Just as you had when I was here some fifty years ago: They never then did any harm, and only served to make For us a pleasant exercise, and keep us wide awake. When we prevailed, we almost thought Millennium had begun; . But when our rivals, then we thought poor Milford was undone. But whiche'er party 'twas went up, and whiche'er 'twas went down, Poor Milford never had to ask assistance from the town. Three thousand souls were all you had to do your business then; And all of them, or almost all, were home-born business men. But oh, how changed in fifty years! for now, statistics say, You're turning out three thousand soles, and more than that, per day, Excepting Sunday, when you leave all business in the lurch, And take a sole or two apiece to bear you on to church. We used to say " shoemakers' shops," a name no longer theirs; They're factories now, where shoes are made, and also millionnaires: While thousands, all unvexed with cares, or auy business news, Stand at their several posts and see machinery make the shoes. And out of staples, such as these, too numerous to define, Thou hast, O grand old Milford! built a fabric such as thine. And if thou dost not live too fast, and cut too wide a swell, And layest every brick and stone, all down the future, well, No earthquake in the business world, though it should come to town And rob it of a brick or two, would make it tumble down. But if trade's bottom should drop out, with all your debtor throng, I'll back your paper, Milford, still, and help you get along.

'Twas at this point this muse of mine intended to have stopped; But an addendum, somehow, has on my attention dropped. There was a dale just o'er the hill: 'twas then unknown to fame; And, though as old as Milford was, it had not then a name. Some ardent spirits, all aglow with kindred sentiments, Thought this green dale the very spot where they should pitch their tents;

499

HON. CHARLES THURBER'S POEM.

There, in that quiet, green retreat they could pass pleasant lives, Where party never kindles strife, nor mad ambition strives; And hoping that from useful lives Utopia's yet would ape, The very dale was wreathed in smiles, and took the name of Hope. And Industry and Enterprise with magic skill have placed In Hopedale's lap rich harvestings of wealth and peace and taste; And her kind-hearted parson says, "If they are well behaved, And live as well as Christians should, they'll every one be saved." Your bard has ne'er been o'er the hill to that delightful spot, And therefore cannot speak of it as one who's singing ought; And cannot say how much the growth of Hopedale's youthful years Was kindled at the altar-fires of Milford's pioneers. But this he can say, for he knows, - its parson did not start For Hopedale till he found a chance to steal a Milford heart: One that a pioneer had lit, and taught it how to play, And little dreamed his minister would coax the girl away. But she has kept the parson straight, and Hopedale's strings in tune, From that glad day when they eloped, to this glad tenth of June.

And now, O Milford! fare you well! When this shall pass away, And a new century ushers in another festal day,

You will be here, arrayed in charms of honor and renown, If not a seaport, without doubt a growing, prosperous town. But all these guests who're present now will have paid nature's debts, And cannot be with you that day, nor send you their regrets.

The chorus sang the following

HYMN OF WANDERERS RETURNING TO MILFORD.

Home of our childhood days, 'Come we to sing thy praise, We love thee well. Though wanderers many a year, And scattered far and near, Thy name was ever dear, A magic spell.

A hundred years have flown Along the ages down To change this spot; Yet names we used to hear Now fill your homes with cheer, And hills and streams so dear Are ne'er forgot.

500

HISTORY OF MILFORD.

Thy sons, when armed with right, Feared not the deadly fight For native land. High on the roll of fame Is written Scammell's name, Your pride, at Yorktown slain By Hessian hand.

When England thought with ease To drive us from the seas, Our coasts to storm, -

From out your churchyard green

Marched four and forty men, As brave as e'er were seen, One Sunday morn.

And when our nation's life Was sought in civil strife, Uprose your sons; With sturdy valor stood, Led on by Underwood,

Poured out your noblest blood, Silenced their guns.

Then gather round this board, And shout with one accord This hymn of praise. Loud let the anthem ring, While we adoring sing Praises to God our King, For bygone days.

TOASTS.

The following toasts were then given : -

Our Country. In 1780 a confederacy of thirteen colonies strug- gling for independence ; to-day a nation of thirty-eight United States. Response by all the bands, - " Hail to the Chief."

The Old Bay State. Happily born with a good constitution the same year in which the goodly town of Milford was ushered into existence.

Response by Gov. John D. Long.

Worcester County. Fortunate in having for her district-attorney one who was graduated with high rank in that once lively institution, the police-court of the town of Milford.

Response by Hon. H. B. Staples of Worcester.

501

TOASTS IN THE GREAT TENT.

The Town of Milford. Never happier than when she extends the hand of welcome to her sons.

Response by Hon. William Claflin of Newton.

The Fair Daughters of Milford. Many of them have been swept away by the strong tide of matrimony, yet a few choice spirits still remain.

Response by Hon. John C. Park of Newton.

Mother Mendon. The respectable old lady has given most of her worldly possessions to Milford and her other daughters, but the tal- ents of her best days she has transmitted to her sons.

Response by Rev. Carlton A. Staples of Providence.

Our Clergymen. While the products of Milford have been mainly material, some of her sons have devoted themselves to the spiritual welfare of their fellow-men.

Response by Rev. Martin S. Howard of Wilbraham.

The Grand Army of the Republic. As it declines in numbers may it grow in fame, and secure a yet warmer place in the affections of a grateful people.

Response by Azael Ames, jun., Esq., of Wakefield.

The exercises at the tent were continued nntil a late hour, and the speeches were loudly applauded.

In the evening there was a good attendance at the reception at the town-hall. Rev. Martin S. Howard read the original poem, and vocal and instrumental music was furnished. It was intended as an informal reception of former and present residents of the town, and as such was dnly appreciated.

ORIGINAL POEM.

From evils and cares and burdens each his own, From distant fields, from under sunset skies,

From ocean's shore where sighs his plaintive moan, From streams which sing their rippling melodies, With glad obedience to her welcome calls, We, children of a common mother, come

To sit once more in the ancestral halls,

And feel the joy of being here, - at home.

Far have we wandered in the silent years

Which only live in memory's golden shrine;

And life, in retrospect, too short appears As we look forward to the day's decline.

502

HISTORY OF MILFORD.

But hither we our footsteps fondly turn, With thoughts of by-gone days forever fled, With fond affections breathe in words that burn, As we recall the memory of the dead.

The ages roll their circling courses round, The years rush onward in their mighty flow, Time leaps apace with one majestic bound, And generations vaguely come and go. Night brings repose, and dawn its day of toil; Each hour its burden on the shoulder lays; Thrift drives its ploughshare through the rocky soil; And busy workers fill the gainful days.

Scenes bright with holy memories we trace As to these old familiar haunts we come, And view the lineaments of the mother-face That smiled on us when we could call them - home. We sit beneath the long-remembered trees, Feast as of old upon the fruit they bore; Sing the old tunes in long-forgotten keys, Hear voices sweet which we shall hear no more.

How oft we climbed these wooded hills, that seemed To childhood's eyes so vast and broad and tall; How oft skimmed o'er these grassy plains, and deemed Them prairies, which now seem to us so small! Nor do we yet forget the paths we trod, Which led our youthful feet in learning's way, - The mild reproof, the castigating rod That wrought to guide our footsteps day by day.

We think of those who sternly sought our good In ways that testified their earnest zeal; Who fed us with an intellectual food Oft mingled with what made us sorely feel. To-day we bless the memory of those Who sought to guide our early steps aright, -. Those gentler spirits ruling in repose, Those austere souls who ruled by storm and might.

In times of strife, of darkness, and of blood, Our fathers laid foundations strong and true: The church, the school, ordained by them, have stood To guard the old and consecrate the new. Those were the days when freedom lifted high Her solemn purpose to defend the right, And hurled the despot, by a well-cast die, From thrones of blood-stained and unlawful might;

503

REV. MARTIN S. HOWARD'S POEM.

The immortal days, which tried enduring souls, Stirred them with sacrifice and high resolve, Waked on the altar freedom's burning coals, And out of thought grand words and acts evolve.

Not recreant to those proud ideas were they Who sowed these furrows, reaped these harvest-fields: Too many heroes closed the well-fought day, Resting to rise no more on bloody shields.

One name sits regent mid that noble band, Who risked a martyr's fate for country's cause; Who dared and suffered for his native land, And died for liberty and righteous laws. Scammell, whose voice was heard in high command, Who led embattled hosts against the foe, Who bowed at last before the foeman's hand, But, bowing, gave the best he could bestow.

Nor can we fail to trace another name, Written in characters of clearer light Than any which recall the meaner fame Of victor on the fields of human fight. Commission from the King of kings he bore, Sent on a warfare 'gainst a world of crime, Valiant with tongue of burning flame to pour God's mighty truth with eloquence sublime. FROST, - shepherd, soldier, heard his country's claim, And, hearing, heeded as a faithful son: Enough to assure him of undying fame, - He was the trusted friend of WASHINGTON.

And when a milder tempest rent the land, And brothers' hand was red with brothers' blood, Our dear old mother lifted up her hand In token of her zeal for liberty and God. With Spartan fire she nerved her valiant sons: She bade them go in freedom's stern defence; Her finger pointing back to martyred ones, And forth for strength to God's Omnipotence.

We cannot count the blood-stained list of those Who held not life itself too dear to die, When home and country were defied by foes Who fought to save the life of slavery. We gather round the shaft which pious hands Have raised in memory of the gallant dead, And read the names, as reverence demands, With love and gratitude and hallowed dread.

504

HISTORY OF MILFORD.

And as the granite points toward heaven from earth, As if to check our lowly thoughts and aims, And fill our minds with thoughts of nobler worth Than those which push their mean and narrow claims, So shall these records of heroic men Who dared to give their lives to liberty, Shine in the lives of generations when Their names in cold oblivion shall lie.

From themes which centre in the field of strife, And scenes of pictured warfare and affray, We turn to paths of a serener life, And count the victories of a milder day.

What fond reflections wake within the mind, As, climbing o'er the heights of long-past years, We leave the present for the time behind, And struggle with the odds of smiles and tears. Shall we forget the sunshine and the showers Which gleamed or lowered in our dear mother's face, As on this landscape, in alternate hours, There frowned or brightened clouds, or rays of peace?

Perchance no grand, heroic names are ours, Of those whose words the world stands still to hear, - Of those whose deeds have been their noblest dowers, Of those whose edicts shake the world with fear. Our life has been the gentler life of those Who calmly meet life's duties as they come,

Moving straight on as our own river flows To gently fall into its ocean home.

The busy stir of human life is ours, The patient industry of daily work, The calm and steady thought linked with the powers That will not yield, retreat, nor give, nor shirk.

The hum of business has filled our streets, And reared our pleasant homes, and buiit our blocks, Has cut a way to what were once retreats For lovers' walks and pasturage of flocks.

And yet how well do we remember some Who wielded influence in the days gone by, -

Whose gifts and wisdom, in the time to come, Will e'en be felt as generations fly. Their names, no matter now, they sleep in dust; The very houses where they dwelt are gone; And yet invisible they live, and must While ages roll their stately marches on.

505

REV. MARTIN S. HOWARD'S POEM.

One well deserves the tribute of our song,

Who, with an honest will and purpose, wrought For fifty years to stem the tide of wrong, Loyal to truth and God in deed and thought. With sincere heart he sowed the goodly seed -

Which here shall spring in the long days to come, In spite of error and in spite of greed, Into glad welcomes of the harvest home. The simple name upon the plain white stone In yonder burial-place alone survives Of him, who half a century gave tone And character and fame to many lives. And yet how grandly woven is the web Of human life in such a life as his! No great commotion, -scarcely flow or ehb, - A still, calm life of holy influences. Sleep, honored pastor, in thy quiet grave ! Thy memory dwells in many human souls; Thy words of wisdom are the leaven to save, Thy name shall live while time its waters rolls.

Nor would we here forget another's name, That links itself with pleasant memories; That wedded stands to all exalted aim, And lives in that good-will which never dies.

The friend of all his fellow-men is he Whose voice to-day has fallen on our ear As some old song whose long-lost melody Comes back to wake the smile, or start the tear. It is not true that such as he grow old: They live in freshness of perpetual spring; With them the warmth of summer ne'er grows cold, And winter snows new graces to them bring. Live, Nestor of our dear old mother town! Pursue thy work of faithful service here, And children yet thy honest work shall crown With benedictions many a coming year.

The shadows lengthen; years and centuries go; The fathers do their work, and then retire; The streams of life with even movement flow, And duties fall to son from aged sire. The past alone to us is safe and sure: What shall the future bring is yet unsolved; Its promises of good indeed allure, And yet how thickly are its lines involved!

506

HISTORY OF MILFORD.

The faithfulness of those who sweetly sleep Beneath the turmoil of the surging world, We fain would emulate, and fondly keep Bright on the folds of our fair flag unfurled. To-day the future lies before us bright; The history of a hundred years is ours; This day shall stand in memory without night, Crowned with a garland of perennial flowers. The morrow of an opening century Calls for heroic sacrifice and will; What harvest in the future shall there be Hereafter gathered from this precious soil? What reliant workers here shall turn the sod ? What hands shall bravely fling the broadcast grain ? What joyful reapers bind the sheaves for God, And fill the garners with the glad refrain? Enough that we our duty bravely do, Stand for the right with an undaunted nerve; Lift high our standard for the good and true, Nor dare from strict integrity to swerve. No richer legacy can we convey To generations that shall call us sires,

Than worth and virtue, which outlast decay, And purer grow within time's furnace-fires.

Nor will we cast a shadow on the day That rings its joyous peals from sun to sun, Because another century's closing ray Will find us sleeping with the fathers gone. Nay, rather, having wrought with honest zeal, With tireless courage run the race of life, With grand, heroic purpose sought the weal Of those to follow in the world's hard strife, We will not count it loss or pain to die, To lay our armor or our weapons down, Since ours will be the well-won victory, The recompense, the palm, the song, the crown.

Welcome the future, with its service, then, With all the burdens of the coming years; Welcome its sacrifice for fellow-men And God, though mixed with bitter tears. We hail the grandeur of the time to come, Its mighty conflicts, its heroic deeds ;

Nor fear to pledge that this, our ancient home, Shall e'er prove faithful to the world's great needs.

507

REV. MARTIN S. HOWARD'S POEM.

Home of our childhood! Mother of us all! From this day's festival we pass anew, Obedient to the voice of Duty's call, Our simple tasks and labors to pursue. We will be loyal to thine honored name; Thy voice shall ever hold our waiting ear;

No act of ours shall flush thy cheeks with shame, No word breathe aught but reverence sincere.

Another century's close we shall not see: Another lineage shall take our place; Another hand shall write our history, And all the annals of the century trace. But truth shall live in ever youthful bloom; God will survive when time shall cease to flow;

Humanity shall last beyond the tomb, And live perennial as the ages go.

Be ours to live with purpose grand and true, - God for our leader, righteousness our aim ;

To stand undaunted, though our friends be few, Trusting the future for undying fame.

THE FIREWORKS.

The display of fireworks at the park, under the direction of P. M. Hunt of Milford, were the most extensive ever exhibited in town, and in the following order : -

Twenty-feet fire balloons, rockets, colored rockets, shells, mine-bat- teries, mine-shells ; piece, - pyric fires, colored rockets, green fire, shells ; piece, - Gothic cross, parachute rocket, shells, pigeon-horse, and flying pigeon, flight rockets (fifty at one time), mine-shells ; piece, - wheel and star, parachute rocket, shells ; piece, -double dia- mond, colored rockets, line of batteries, hexagon wheel with spindles, parachute rockets, shells ; piece, - " Boss " Tweed's diamond, para- chute rocket, mine-shells ; afterpiece, -" 1780, Milford, 1880." Tlie display began at eight o'clock, and lasted an hour and a half.

A great crowd witnessed the display, which passed off in a highly satisfactory manner under the efficient supervision of Mr. Pearley M. Hunt.

In the evening many private dwellings were illuminated with Chinese lanterns, etc. ; but private displays of fireworks were not numerous.

The premises of C. W. Wilcox and J. E. Walker were handsomely illuminated with large numbers of Chinese lanterns.

508

HISTORY OF MILFORD.

LETTERS FROM PROMINENT GENTLEMEN.

The committee have received the following letters from distinguished gentlemen unable to be present : -

GROTON, May 12, 1880.

MY DEAR SIR, - While it may not be in my power to accept your kind invitation to attend the centennial celebration by the town of Milford the I0th of next month, I anticipate that Mrs. Boutwell and our son and daugh- ter will avail themselves of the opportunity which your courtesy opens to them. Mrs. Boutwell's father was a native of Milford, and some of her relatives are residents of the town and vicinity.

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History of the town of Milford, Worcester county, Massachusetts, from its first settlement to 1881, Part 55

Author: Ballou, Adin, 1803-1890 Publication date: 1882 Publisher: Boston : Rand, Avery, & co. Number of Pages: 1328

Author: Ballou, Adin, 1803-1890
Publication date: 1882
Publisher: Boston : Rand, Avery, & co.
Number of Pages: 1328