USA > Massachusetts > Hampden County > Longmeadow > Proceedings at the centennial celebration of the incorporation of the town of Longmeadow, October 17th, 1883 > Part 5
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Then those meads by honest purchase Passed from red man to the white, While their rankly growing grasses Wove an emerald carpet bright,
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Flecked with buttercups as sunshine, And with daisies like the snow, Bordered by a belt of silver Golden in the sunset's glow.
Earth and sky turned not yet lurid At the woes of savage strife, But were with the mellow radiance Of the Indian summer rife.
With the crushing of the Pequots Came to war-whoops a long truce, Till by jealous crafty Philip Friends were .changed to demons loose ;
And was waged that war of races To the bitter, bloody end, Which should out from all our valley Remnants of a doomed race send
Let us linger with the Indian, Trusted as the white man's friend, Who, in his untutored fashion, Aid and guidance sure did lend.
In wood-craft he taught the stranger, Ere his craft was as a foe, How to hunt in leafy coverts, And to track game on the snow-
Shewed him herbs and leaves of healing, Others to be shunned as bane ; And his rude signs for foretelling Days of sunshine or of rain.
It may be that to his camp-fire Was the stranger welcomed oft, Who, too, gave the red man greeting Where his home-fire blazed aloft.
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A memento of that era Lends its luster to the days When we harvest for the garner, Peacefully, our golden maize-
Whose trim stooks, so like to wigwams, 'Mind us of the tented field Where our meads' first dusky owners In their fealty stood revealed.
At the brink of yonder waters, Washed and wasted by their flow, Is a burial plot primeval, Where the Indian sleepeth low.
And as sunbeams leave a blessing, Fading slowly in the west, Grudge we not our benediction To the red man's place of rest.
Fair, yet fickle, valley-queen,
On thy crystal throne serene, Thou did'st lure men o'er the sea,
Now of sainted memory,
To salute thee in thy pride
And sit spell-bound near thy side.
Dazzling was thy jewelry
More than gems of royalty,
And the songs thy minstrels sung,
Soaring, or green nooks among,
Sounded sweeter to our sires
Than those by cathedral choirs.
'Neath thy smile, when mist or snow Veiled not its enchanting glow, Visions of a hamlet rose Lovely as the Avon knows ;
Bearing none of olden names, Yet with kin by Clyde and Thames.
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Lo ! a strange commotion, Hurried locomotion, Strong men strangely pale ; At the dire transition From sweet fields Elysian, To a submerged vale !
Soon the oars are gleaming 'Mid a deluge streaming O'er the fated lea- Plied with lusty rowing, And the river flowing Broad as inland sea !
Blithe is still our mother, After all this pother Sings in hopeful strain-
Baptized by immersion, Only through coercion, And so washed from stain.
Safe upon the upland, Despite the drifting sand, She will build anew ; Floods by day defying,
And while winds are sighing The hushed night hours through.
Driven from the meadow, Close as her own shadow, Clings her name alway ---- Tinted with the color, Fragrant with the odor, Of the meads in May ; And thro' centuries vanished, Tainted not, nor tarnished, LONGMEADOW 'tis to-day !
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The track of four-score years we saunter down, Through precinct, parish, to the corporate town. What was dense forest, or the open ground Where a few kine their scanty forage found, Yet 'neath broadshade at noontide to recline, And access free where brooks thro' dingles twine, Becomes a village common, and wide street, Comely, in time, as Goldsmith's " Auburn Sweet."
Beyond a belt of woodland, where the bear And ravening wolf long kept their hidden lair, A rocky ridge, that was so tough to till, The settlers cursed it as " Poverty Hill," Becomes the thrifty parish miles away, Whose town-house looks as if it came to stay ; Whose rock of old offence has, quarried, won A world-wide fame for the Longmeadow stone !
Timber was plenty, and the early frame Would put the later balloon sort to shame ; Wood piles were ample, and the fire-place broad Enough to swallow even a sled-load ! And, though a tempest raged outside the door, That generous open fire would blaze and roar Until the hearthstone glowed so wondrous bright- . It lit the smoke-stained walls with solar light.
Simple, yet earnest, lives were nurtured there, In homespun raiment and on frugal fare. Mothers, indeed, with jewels were arrayed, Such as Cornelia in her sons displayed, And boasted their conservatories full Of olive-plants, both plain and beautiful ; Though the piano must needs bide its time, And penciled harmonies that with it chime.
Attic sweet singers at their toil were heard While spinning wheels the obligato whirred ; Or on the roof the patter of the rain The song accompanied, and its refrain.
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And by the cradle wooing slumber nigh, Distilled in cadence soft the lullaby, Whose mystic charm comes not from any art, But the deep yearning of a mother's heart.
The waltz was frequent in those homes of yore. From birches sprouting at the very door ; And everywhere of rods enough were rife To keep a lictor busy all through life ! Yet 'mid these stern surroundings bloomed a feast, Whose fragrance lingered long when thanks had ceased ; As blooms the flower that ushers in our May, Where lilies soon would droop unto decay.
The central figure was devotion's shrine- The unpretending house for use divine ; No fountain gushed upon the village green In liquid melody and silver sheen, But dearer to our sires than fountain's jet Was the meek fane where reverent they met, While holy calm was brooding everywhere, To drink of water on which angels fare.
How true the pastors to their life-long trust, Williams and Storrs, a hundred years-though dust Their bodies now may be, their memories Still live, and lift our thoughts unto the skies. How too by charge preceded after charge so brief, Yet gladdened each with its own harvest sheaf, The pastor of to-day with thirty years and three Doth supplement their work, and century !
Some mourned, as if when the old church moved Toward the grave-yard, solemnly slow. Its last hour had come, and funeral too, And in dust it soon would lie low.
That it came to dust was a smothering fact, And its bats, too, came to grief, While the poor church-mouse in his secret haunt Was tremulous as a leaf-
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As the workmen were baring the antique frame To the open light of day, And the century cock on his airy perch Wondered what was to pay !
Yet the cherished fane, under guidance sure, Left the spot it hallowed so long, For a site that now lends a pathos to prayer, To sermon, and sacred song.
And I fancy 'tis still the same old church, In its heart and ribs of oak, As when from the belfry at noon and night, And in shine and storm it spoke.
Stained windows, and frescoed walls change not The faith it kept on the green, While steadfast as ever its finger points up To the temple eternal unseen.
Methinks, when its lengthening shadow doth fall O'er the place of the last, long sleep, The mourner discerns a sheltering arm 'That will safely his treasure there keep.
In the still place of graves memorials tell -
Of heroes brave and true, who fought and fell, From wars colonial, gone from thought away, Down to that latest ne'er forgotten fray ; Though all too soon its votive garlands fade, Which, wet with tears, on the green turf are laid.
There, too, sleep those to country true, and God, As even these whose blood hath stained the sod ; Who sought no mention in the roll of fame, Only to leave unspotted a good name. They lived that other mortal lives might be More sweet and true for their fidelity-
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From lifting others' burdens theirs were less, And blessing others they themselves did bless. In stars which beamed above their peaceful homes, Brighter than over pinnacles and domes, Radiant they read what their reward would be When mortal put on immortality ! And so they passed on, pilgrims to the sky, Contented here to live, and here to die.
I know not what the years will bring . Of glad news, or alarm, But pray that the new century Break not the olden charm.
Heaven bless the city of our love, Our mother's mother dear, While the blue hills beyond abide And flows the river near.
Yet as her toil waxes intense With busy hand and brain, And rises unto fever-heat The mastering lust for gain,
More welcome be the day or hour When her worn toilers hie To pastures green, and where the still Waters are gliding by.
Even if as Jerusalem Yon city grows to be, Let her loved suburb keep the charm Of quiet Bethany !
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At the conclusion of the poem the following patriotic hymn, also written by Mr. Boies, was sung by the assembly, to the tune of America, with band accompaniment, concluding the first section of the day's programme.
MR. BOIES' HYMN.
Our Country, unto thee Still we would loyal be, As were our sires ; Who watched thine infancy, Fought for thy liberty, Kindled on hill and lea Thine altar-fires.
For Thee, O grand old State, Never shall love abate, Whate'er betide. Though friends thy servants blame.
And foes asperse thy name, Firm as thy Rock of fame Thou shalt abide !
Sweet hamlet of our love, As dew shed from above Peace be to thee ! With plenty be thou blest, With concord, East and West, And days of holy rest In worship free.
God bless us gathered here, While draws our parting near, To meet no more- Until through loss and gain, And washed from mortal stain, Triumphant we attain The shining shore !
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THE AFTER-DINNER SPEECHES.
In opening the symposium of after-dinner speeches from invited sons, daughters, and guests, the President spoke briefly, as follows :
Children and Friends of Our Good Mother Longmeadow :
You are invited to a 'feast of reason and a flow of soul,' which will doubtless make all that has preceded it seem tame to you, in the com- parison. We have a list of speakers whose very recital must awaken your most eager anticipation. Let every settee claim its occupants, that all may be unhindered in hearing and seeing. The good Mother will deem it no disrespect to herself for any son or daughter to sit with covered head, even in her venerable presence, if prudence so suggests.
I will detain the speakers from you longer by only a single 'little story.' It is related of the venerable Dr. Shaw of Rochester that. being about to take leave of his Presbytery in his advanced years, he said to them in words of chastened, yet complacent humility : " Breth- ren: During my long connection with you I may have done some foolish things, and have doubtless done many wrong things; but you will bear me witness that I have never done a long thing !"
The bearing of this story does not lie, I may add, in the applica- cation ; for you will readily see it can leave no possible application to our circumstances. The afternoon may, indeed, prove short ; but the speeches of our guests cannot, by any possibility, seem to us long.
Speaking now, however, only as the humble representative of our gracious Mother, I am instructed by her to say that she remembers reading often in her early childhood the then recently revised version of the sacred writings, done by command of her Most Gracious Sov- ereign King James I, of learned memory, and that in it, of a certain Aaron of old it was written, that 'he could speak well ; ' and, there- fore, commandment was given concerning him, that 'he should be to his brother Moses instead of a mouth.' Much more, surely, may a mother expect that any Aaron among her own sons who can speak well should be to her instead of a mouth, on such an occasion as this.
Will the Rev. Aaron Colton, of Easthampton, take the Mother's hint ?
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ADDRESS OF REV. AARON COLTON.
Mr. President and Good Friends :
In our present quest we do not propose to go back to Adam, nor to Noah. We stop this side of the flood and of the Red Sea. We begin at Moses-our Moses-my Moses, Mr. Presi- dent,-otherwise named Quartermaster George Colton. Let alone Egypt. Let alone England, except just to say that the said George aforesaid came over from Sussex, a southeast county in the fatherland, about the middle of the Seventeenth Century. No matter for anything beyond. Enough, and good enough this side. No great concern whether the first man ever named Colton was Norman, Swede, Celt, or Turk. Don't propose to. go into fits over the question whether the Coltons across the brine were of princely blood or plebeian. That is no great shakes any way. The real point is, What are we, and what do we ? All else is fustian and prunella. We make personal con- fession, that for groping one's way by light of a tallow candle through endless "genealogies," we have, in this short life, no time, tact, nor taste. Had indeed a little rather not have come up (or down) from ape, tadpole, or clam, as the evolutionists would have it.
Quartermaster George Colton-on him we plant ourselves, and shake fists at all questioners and comers. We have in him an honorable and auspicious beginning. He is found a Magis- trate in Springfield at almost its earliest, and before Longmeadow is even a precinct, or is more than a pasture for flocks. Came among the first, if not the first, to what is now this goodly place and name. Was a wise master builder, and laid here good foundations, whereof we this day are witnesses. Had nine chil- dren, and that was auspicious prophecy. And famous children they were-altogether redoubtable. Isaac, Ephraim, Mary, Thomas, Sarah, Deborah, Hephzibah, John, and Benjamin. There ! Scriptural, Biblical, every one-patriarch and evangelist face to face; both Testaments drawn from-not to say ex- hausted ; not a heathen name among them. If from all the
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hoary registers of time, any man can cite the equal family rec- ord, let him stand up and be counted.
And if Quartermaster George was great, a still greater than he, perhaps, was his son Thomas, our Joshua. Captain Thomas Colton-like John Gilpin-
" A citizen
Of credit and renown ; A train-band Captain eke was he."
He was the hornet against the people who had dwelt in the land. For it came to pass when they set themselves to over- come him, he joined battle and fought against them ; yea, he drave out from before him the Jebusites, the Hivites, and the Hittites, (or subdued them under him,) and gave their lands for a possession unto your fathers, and unto you, as it is this day. It was said of him that he could scent an Indian from as far as he could shoot one-and that was at long range. Turning to the old records I find a minute in these words : "Capt. Thomas Colton died September 30, 1728. On the 6th of the following October Dr. Williams preached a sermon in which he gave Capt. Colton a very extraordinary character, especially in the Indian wars, and as a man of eminent piety." Reminds one of the centurian, and of Havelock ; a soldier, yet fearing God with all his house. His monument in the burial ground near by, a stone slab, large, strong, durable, of such fine grain and texture as to have withstood, without fleck or flaw, the storms and sun- shines of a century and a half, testifies to this same high esti- mate and appreciation. And then Captain George Colton, son of Thomas, worthy son of worthy sire. Thus we have it-these military spangles and splendors-Captain, Lieutenant, Ensign, Sergeant, etc. And then as to actual service-the tug of war. My grandfather Aaron, with several others of the name, bore a part in the struggle for our independence. Sergeant Ebenezer Colton, with his company of minute men, marched from here as far as to Brookfield for the rescue of Lexington, but was coun- termanded with the intelligence that the peril was past.
But the Colton name fills a much larger space in the civil list and life of this grand old town. For a hundred years one-half, less or more, of the moderators of the meetings of precinct and
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town were Coltons. How readest thou? " At a meeting of the inhabitants of the precinct of Long Meadow, March 15, 1756, Capt. Isaac Colton was appointed Moderator ; Sergt. George Colton, Ensign ; Simon Colton and David Burt were chosen Committee, and Samuel Colton, Assessor"-Coltons four to one. One more instance out of many in the record. At the first meeting of Longmeadow as a town, Festus Colton was chosen Surveyor of Highways, and Luther Colton, Fence Viewer. So were the powers and prerogatives, the honors and emoluments of high official station heaped upon the Coltons as the most capable and worthy among the people !
If now any one shall, in malicious and mischievous deprecia- tion, insinuate that the Coltons were all the people, and had the honors of office as the college boy did the valedictory, being himself the whole class, we shall not stop to answer that despiser of dignities, except by the silence that means disdain.
And then, coming down, or rather up, to the queenly matron, ever venerable and fair-this church. Of the sixteen persons joining to organize this church, one hundred and sixty-seven years ago, six were Coltons-four women and two men.
I have just now alluded to numbers. If you carp at the Col- ton quality, we can easily balance the account by quantity. Those early family records-quivers full. We have looked at them, and have sat astonied one hour. Quartermaster George is found to have had nine children ; Thomas, fifteen ; Ephraim, of the second generation, seventeen; Benjamin, of the third generation, fifteen ; and Benjamin, of the fourth generation, ten. Prophets and prognosticators of omen good or ill! Census bureau and the multiplication table ! But take comfort. This is a great country, with territorial domain sufficient for a good many Coltons and some few others-a remnant, at least. Glad to have it so ; for we seem to hear voices saying, give us room, that we may dwell.
Well then, the just claim of the Coltons to precedence and preëminence before all the other Longmeadowers, here and else- where: I. We were first in the field, and possession is nine points of the law. 2. We are fullest in numbers-are the major- ity-are the people-not to insist that wisdom will die with us.
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And then as to the parts the Coltons have played and are playing in the field of the world. True, we cannot point to a Colton as chief executive of the nation, nor of this common- wealth. No matter. The greed and scramble for office, as now seen, would only soil our ermine. But we stand well on the roll. One or two governors or alcades, one or two presidents of col- leges, several college professors, educators not a few, physicians many, clergymen a goodly number, judges rare, lawyers a suffi- cient and satisfying scarcity.
But after all, our grand distinction and boast is of our dea- cons. DEACON COLTON. Here, on this eminence, we plant our- selves, and boldly challenge all competition and comparison. We are owners of the deaconship here and elsewhere
" From the center all round to the sea."
We are born deacons, as princes are dukes-to the manor born. Deacon is our escutcheon heraldic, our ensign armorial. True, indeed, in this democratic, leveling age and country, where men have such petty jealousies and prejudices against office bearing and authority, it may perhaps be as well, for the sake of peace and good will, to allow the people the privilege of a voice and vote in putting Coltons into this as into other offices. But a Colton is a deacon anyway, and every time, vote or no vote. He is deacon by very virtue of his being a Colton. To say of a Colton that he is a deacon is only to pronounce him a little more a Colton-an Hebrew of the Hebrews. In fact, we don't need the title ;- we are deacons without it, all the same. To think of distinguishing one Colton from another Colton by saying that one of them is deacon, would be about as lucid an identification as to say of one John Smith that he is brother of James. Not to count from other branches of our genealogical tree, but only from my own especial bough or twig, I once found here thirteen deacons living contemporaneously, and a blessing to their time. My grandfather Aaron was deacon ; two or three uncles of mine were deacons ; a half score of cousins were deacons ; my father was deacon ; three brothers of mine were deacons ; and a son of mine is deacon. Presumably this branch is no exceptional one, but is a fair sample of the entire ancestral tree.
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I have not claimed, may it please you, that all the good dea- cons in the world are Coltons. I am too modest for that. I magnanimously and cheerfully concede that there are good peo- ple, some few at least, outside of the Colton fold. I benevo- lently wish there were more of them. And here, while I am in this charitable and hopeful mood, and before I lose it, I may just add and admit, that, since an humble self-estimate is a grace becoming in all, even in the best, it is conceivable that we Col- tons, all of us, might not do amiss to wish ourselves a little bet- ter than we are. There is always room at the top.
And then as to issues and results of intermarriages and inter- fusions, cross-currents and comminglings vi blood and quality- ours with the other tribes, the Elys, Cooleys, Blisses, Morses, Morrisses, Keeps, Chapins, Burts, Williamses, Bridgmans, Kings- leys, Goldthwaites, Storrses, Wrights, Lawtons, Brockways, and I know not how many more ; whether in all this the Coltons have gained most, or given most of whatsoever things are lovely and of good report, may properly be left a question for a debat- ing society. It is presumable, however, that our debtors they are.
From this account it is very plain, first, that the Coltons are å modest race, thinking others better than themselves; and sec- ond, that there are among them no humorists. How could there be? Being deacons all of us, we are too sedate and solemn to relax into mirthfulness and levity. 'Sober as a deacon !'
But I must draw to a close. Let me try, as I do so, to sketch for you, with a free but faithful hand
AN AVERAGE COLTON.
A plain man of medium stature ; rather spare in flesh ; hair brown and scant as age advances; small eyes ; prominent nose and chin, denoting push and persistence ; complexion red, white, and blue ; circulation and temperament a trifle slow ; not the quickest in catching an idea, but good at keeping it ; modest, as we have already said and sung, yet somewhat self-opinionated and set-not to say stubborn ; second or third cousins, maybe, to the Mr. Will-be-Wills ; of cheerful turn, and not addicted to long face and low murmurs; laughs moderately, but laughs ;
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prefers to live in the south side of the house ; is sociable and neighborly ; likes to do obliging things, and does them; thinks comfortably well of himself, and likes to have others think the same of him ; is affectionate in disposition, loves his kindred and friends, and is given to hospitality ; loves a good story, and is apt to be a little prolix and tiresome in telling it ; is pretty sure to be found a singer, and no marvel if a chorister ; is neither a sun to blind your eyes, nor a comet to be gazed at wonderingly ; wouldn't excel in metaphorical pyrotechnics and gymnastics ; is not given to minding high things, but is reasonably content to pursue a quiet and even tenor ; is patient of toil, working with his own hands that which is good ; is fair-minded and fair-handed in business dealings ; has half an eye open for the main chance, but doesn't clutch frantically for the everlasting more ; is neither a millionaire nor a pauper ; is not crowned king nor hanged a culprit ; is seldom found in a palace, and more rarely in a prison ; is a democratic republican in politics ; is found among a gentler commonalty, the middling interest, the middle extreme in society,-the upper middle if you please ; is not a saint by natural birth and blood (no man is), but is blessed with such make and molding, such natural disposition, aptitudes, tendencies, as fits one (if there be such fitting in any) to receive God's free grace and be molded by it to diviner patterns, even the spiritual and heavenly.
On the whole, a fair sort of a man, this average Colton, found respectable, faithful, useful, serving God and doing good to men, and as likely as most to be saved finally by grace divine and grace alone.
We should not boast and we need not blush, manward, over what the Colton race and name have been and done here in this dear old home, our Jerusalem, Longmeadow, name ever dear, and mother of us all ; and done also in the
" Land of our fathers. wheresoe'er we roam."
And may I add one word in the name of all the tribes and families represented here, to day. To the Longmeadow resi- dents, people and their honored pastor, having here and now their beautiful home and habitation, we tender on this memorial
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anniversary our hearty greetings and gratulations. All hail and farewell ! our dear old Longmeadow, venerable with age, crowned with beauty! Her children rise up and call her blessed. May other generations of men and women, the good and gentle, the true and brave for the right, rise up here to bless the ancestral home, the nation, the world. Our ancestors here. We seem to see their venerable forms. We tread reverently by the graves where they lie in glory, every one in his own house. We sit, to-day, beneath the roof and within the walls where they wor- shiped the ever living and loving God, theirs and ours. We walk beneath the elms that to them were a shadow from the heat. We tread on hallowed ground.
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