USA > Massachusetts > Barnstable County > Sandwich > Two hundred and fiftieth anniversary celebration of Sandwich and Bourne, at Sandwich, Massachusetts, September 3, 1889 > Part 8
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We look back through the vista of two centuries and a half, and it is filled with great achievements in behalf of humanity ; with great names of heroic men and women who lived not afar off, but were with us and of us; and with such great events as the success of popular government, the emancipation of human thought and faith, the abolition of slavery, and the inventions of science which have put the globe into the hollow of man's hand and made the giant powers of nature obedient servants of human will, and which will some day scoop out the Cape Cod Ship Canal as deftly as a lady dips a spoon. With what ancestry in the world shall we fear to compare ours? Our soil is rich with the ashes of the good and great, and our tribute goes out to them the more warmly because it goes not to the few; not to an illustrious warrior here or a great benefactor there ; but to the whole body of those plain, quiet, God-fearing .
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and self-respecting men and women, who so raised the gen- eral level of their ordinary life that any distinction among them which they made was the accident of circumstance or necessity, and any distinction which we should make would be an injustice. What trust have they not imposed upon us ? With them behind us, what is not our duty as the living, accountable citizens of this and other like communities to- day to those who shall follow us? Shall we lower the stand- ard? Shall we not rather advance it still higher? The world is pleading with us from our safe and high vantage- ground to lend a helping hand, to reach down to our fellow- men and lift them up by help and by example. There never was a time when the moral instincts were more sensitive than
now. Peace spreads her white wings over us. There is no
field to-day on which to battle with bloody arms for civil freedom, for religious toleration or against beast or savage foe. Our conflict must be with the insidious forces that war upon the moral sentiment, that threaten corruption to our social and political fabric, that invade the manhood and pur- ity and truth of men, that impair the sanctity and happi- ness of home, or that would subvert the institutions that have made New England a paradise of living, as it is a paradise of varied and invigorating climate, scenery and sea shore. The obligations of the noble record along which you look back for two hundred and fifty years with so much pride are not to seek for great opportunities remote and afar off, but to aid in the circle of our own immediate influence and ability in up- building the citizen, in eradicating the subtle evil of intem- perance that is honeycombing society and the State with its rot ; in diffusing the common education of the people for which the fathers provided so seduously ; in adjusting not so much the cold, economic relation of capital and labor as if these were distinct factors, but the warm relation of man with man in the great struggle for happiness in which every man is a capitalist and every man a laborer; and in standing firm against any influence or inroad that threatens the purity of democratic government. The civilization of the future is in our own hands. These great causes of temperance, of the education of the masses, of the purity of our politics, depend upon our discharge or our neglect of our duty. If
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we discharge it, then are we worthy sons of worthy sires. If we neglect it, then is our celebration of these anniversa- ries, our praise of the fathers, our tribute to their virtues but sounding brass and tinkling cymbal.
THE TOASTMASTER.
It is my pleasure to give you this sentiment :
The non-resident - Sandwich to-day opens wide her arms of welcome, and gives a hearty embrace to the stranger within her gates. She is upholstered in her nattiest attire, wears her most gra- cious smile and beams benignly upon her guests, as she joins the bou- quet of towns that have lived two hundred and fifty years, and although quite old, as the visitors can see, she is sound in every limb, not an out about her and, in fact, has but just begun to live. And to respond to this toast I call upon Gen. John L. Swift.
This toast was responded to by General John L. Swift, of Boston, in his usual happy and eloquent manner. The publisher after much correspondence, regrets his inability to secure his response.
The following poem, written by Miss Mary A. A. Con- roy, of Roxbury, was read by Dr. J. E. Pratt, secretary of the executive committee : -
1639.
So many years ago it was, The history like a legend reads; Our fathers to fair Sandwich came, To seek, and found a lasting home. Of diverse ways, unlike in much; But bound by common brotherhood, And veneration for the rights Of each and ev'ry fellowman. From Saugus, came the pioneers, And chose, (unwitting artists they) The fairest spot on all the coast; Where, silver-white the shores enzone The sparkling sapphire of the bay. A cluster here of Nature's gems - Each vieing each, with lavish charm, Scusset, and Shawme, and Sagamore, Scorton, Spring Hill, and Manomet, And old Comassakumkanet ! Green sunny slopes, deep shady dells, Lying in panorama spread; Wooing with thousand witcheries, The favored one who sees, to rest. Stretches of velvet meadow land,
SANDWICH. 1889.
Glimpses of verdure unsurpassed: The eye is sated, while the heart Is lulled amid this loveliness. Here gleams the lake, in placid calm; And here, a cheerful little rill Bubbling, and babbling merrily Offers its nectar exquisite. The glades, now sober in the shade, Smile slowly, 'neath the loving touch The sun bestows, and his caress,
Their beauty fourfold magnifies. Here in the Spring, in sheltered nook, The dainty arbutus unfolds Its matchless beauty, tho' the snow Still holds the earth in chill embrace. Sweet harbinger! The emblem meet Of hardy courage, which despite The buffets of an unkind fate, Our fathers, long ago displayed. Where wends the road its winding way Around Spring Hill, a pond peeps forth, Bearing in beauteous affluence,. Hundreds of lillies, fair and sweet.
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These, white and pure as childhood's dreams, Unconscious of their grace and charm, And these, all roseate with delight, Seeing their grace reflected there.
Marshpee, and Wakeby's lovely ponds, Where silvery trout disport and hide, Glistening, and challenging the rod, May well the angler's skill invite. 'Mid Wakeby's charms, that statesman great, Unrivalled Webster, first declaimed His famed address on Bunker Hill, While with John Trout, on sport intent. Truly a fair abiding place ! And so they deemed it, who so well Defended it in every strait; Gave it their service, and their strength: Sturdy and staunch, and leal and true.
The names of Freeman, and of Bourne, Nye, Dillingham, and their compeers; We trace, from first to last, upon The annals of this ancient town. Foremost in every need of hers, Their aid to offer. When she called She found them ready to respond, As their decendants do to-day. With strictest justice, every law They 'ministered, without regard To rank of the offending one; With their own children rigorous As with the mere sojourner there. The naughty ones, who in the church Grew drowsy, as the sermon prosed; Or, moved by wanton mischief smiled, Received a taste of Titus' rod.
The first the freedom to declare, Of children born of Afric blood; Two hundred years before the flame Of war broke forth for this same cause ! The herald of that glorious dawn Which was to light our darkened land. Darkened by years of cruel wrong, The one blot on our nation's page. And, when old Titus Winchester, An erst-while slave, his freedom gained, He gave a token to the town To prove his fervent gratitude. The old clock, told for many years, The flying moments as they sped: Its broad face smiling on the place In approbation of the deed.
They toiled, with unremitting care, With purpose high, and firm resolve, To make their dwelling place indeed A home, a haven of repose, Themselves the object of the hate Of differing sects, and older creeds, They learned to tolerate, and shield The victims of mistaken zeal. When harshly dealt with, other-where, The Quakers unto Sandwich came, True friends they found, who scorned to use The power they held, but granted them To dwell in peace, the spirit with. You yet may see anear Spring Hill, Their meeting-place, a sylvan glen Environed by protecting trees.
Here, far removed from curious eyes, Their God they worshipped silently. Their choir - the myriad songbirds were, Their hassocks, stones. The mossy sward Beneath their feet, their carpet was, An azure ceil, the sky above; No temple made by mortal hands Could rival this in loveliness.
When Boston neighbors brewed the tea, Whose flavor ne'er had been excelled; Its fragrance, wafted on the breeze, To Shawme was carried, and became As an elixir to the men Who drooped beneath the heavy weight Of unjust laws, a tyrant king Had on their weary shoulders laid. They met in solemn conclave, when The despot's load too weighty grew, And with a righteous anger, vowed They would no more the burden bear! " We never will submit !" they said, " To laws unjust, and vile as these !" Their resolutions to enforce, They stood prepared to fight - or die ! The Boston Port Bill, Tax on Tea, And all the arbitrary acts, Received their censure, while their mote Was freely paid the rebel cause. Meltiah Bourne, the timber gave From which the staff of freedom rose, And every man, and stripling too, Gave of his strength in freedom's cause. They ready were at first alarm, To sacrifice their little all, In common cause, against the wrong Inflicted on a struggling band, Struggling amid privations great. Contending against hostile hordes Of foes within. Their friends were few, " For liberty was treason then."
And he who dared the hope to voice Of freedom from the galling yoke Worn by the patient colonies, Was rebel, and ungrateful deemed. Many there were, who laid their lives, A holocaust on freedom's shrine. Many who broke the fondest ties, Rather than leave the rebel band. How well they fought, let history tell; Their names are blazoned on her page, Otis, and Freeman, names that live, Yea, and shall live, eternally! Heroes there were, who nameless be, Dying as they had lived, unknown, Their humbler efforts, helped to make Our land, the freest 'neath the sun.
No more they ask for royal grant, Which ill-secured protection gave. Nor treaties, broken soon as made. They won their rights by force of arms, And owe the praise, to Heav'n alone. Seeking not riches, but the free Untrammelled leave to dwell in peace With God, and with their fellowmen - The struggle past, they wrought full well And patient tilled the stubborn soil, Sowing and harvesting in turn
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Till happy fields upon them smiled. Where late but only tangled growth Of strangling weeds rose rank and high, Orchards, and meadows, fruitful lay, Crowning their labor with success.
Our aim is not in lofty verse, The epic of their lives to sing; Nor with immoderate meed of praise Their homery virtues to extol: - We would but in remembrance hold, How much to them the Present owes. We would but bid their offspring, all Their sires' achievements emulate. -
Peace reigned. With steady fingers, time Decade, past decade, telling, in His well worn rosary of years.
When once again, the lurid light Of war's dread flambeau, flashed and burned, And freedom's clarion tones were heard, Calling on all her loyal sons; The first to answer the appeal Were sons of Sandwich, brave, and true, Ready to fight for the oppressed, Ready to die, if need there were! Thro' all the land, the wailing voice Of hapless, hunted slaves, was heard Imploring justice, craving aid. The union menaced, and the flag We loved, insulted by the hosts Who saw their race was almost run; And feared lest right should now prevail, Where might so long had ruled supreme, A noble company, in truth Were they who marched from Sandwich town: A band of earnest, honest men.
Some sleep beneath the blood-stained sod, At peace - a peace with honor gained; Some who returned, participate In these festivities to-day.
Now, black or white, or rich or poor, In Sandwich town, as equals are. Men's deeds, not ancestry we hold In rev'rence, and pay homage to. The records of men's lives we read, Beginning where their worth begins; Ignoble brows but meanly wear, The halo of a long descent. Still may we point with rightful pride, To records grand and fair as these. Still may we vaunt the heritage Our fathers left, of honest worth. Our aim - their failings to avoid, Their sturdy honesty and truth To make our own; that in our turn Our pages read as clean as theirs.
Where once but Puritan, and friend, The sole and only Christians were, Now dwell in kindly unity Members of every sect and creed.
From every steeple, chiming peals Of varying sweetness call to prayer. Baptist and Catholic unite, Returning thanks for this glad day.| We thank Thee, God of Heav'n supreme, For all Thy blessings on our town, We pray Thy favors yet may be Continued, as in days of old. We beg for all our glorious land,
Thy firm sustaining grace, for aye :
True peace, and concord, fealty, And an abiding trust in Thee.
THE TOASTMASTER.
For the speaker next to be introduced there is no set sentiment; not that the amount of toast has given out, but he wishes none to be ordered for him, so I shall not confine him to a prescribed theme. I now present one who is no stranger to you, who has recently received the benefit of your suffrages to the extent and effect that he is now the representative of the First Massachusetts District in the National House of Representatives, Hon. Charles S. Randall, of New Bedford.
HON. CHARLES S. RANDALL.
It gives me great pleasure to be present on this occasion which I feel particularly interested in as being a direct de- scendant of Richard Bourne, of whom the eloquent orator of
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the day speaks so earnestly and with so much force. I should have felt that the old documents that I have with me dating back two hundred years, gave me a passport to this occasion even had my name been overlooked by the com- mittee on invitations. Many valuable records, deeds and documents are now in my possession, in looking over which, I find that Richard Bourne settled in Sandwich in 1637; was an instructor to the Mashpee Indians in 1658, and was or- dained by Elliott and Cotton in 1670 as a preacher and died in 1682. He had two sons: John was born in Sandwich in 1670, moved to Rochester, Plymouth County, in 1699, bought land there from one Doty, married one Elizabeth Ar- nold, daughter of Samuel Arnold, the first minister settled in the town of Rochester, and died May 5, 1709. His daughter, Elizabeth Arnold Bourne, married Charles Sturte- vant, of Plymouth, who settled upon the farm of her father, John Bourne, who was my great great grandfather; and that property, settled by the son of Richard Bourne in 1699, in Rochester, now belongs to myself and to members of my family.
Here the speaker read from an old deed of one of the sons of Richard Bourne, conveying to his son a tract of land on Herring River, in which was stated, "that he was to maintain a mill for the grinding of corn of the people of Sandwich, and always keep the mill in satisfactory repair, and that he should grind the corn for the said people for two quarts per bushel, and in failure to comply with that stipula- tion the property to revert to the heirs-at-law." Another extract from the will of a daughter of Richard Bourne show- ing the religious spirit that entered into their daily life, was as follows: "Being desirous to get my house in order, and knowing that my departure out of this world draweth nigh, I do make and ordain this my last will and testament, giving my soul to God and my body to be buried at the discretion of my executors, and of such worldly estate as it has pleased God to bless me with, " etc. I read this extract to show the contrast between the business methods of that and the pres- ent day.
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THE TOASTMASTER.
Among those who went through the long march this noon were not a few of the old veterans, to whom such a march in the years past was not a serious task; but today they staggered, not only beneath the scorching rays of the sun, but under the weight of advanced years. I think they will be amply repaid for their exertions when I shall an- nounce the next speaker, for he is one who has the best wishes of the old soldiers at heart. In this connection I want to tell a little story. When the war broke out there was a little fellow in a small town of Hampshire county, only thirteen years of age who was bound to go to the front. His good mother demurred, yet he was determined to go and upon the assurance that he would be well looked after by some of the larger boys, her consent was given, and the lad enlisted as drummer boy in Co. C. 10th Regiment, and in the army records became known as the drummer boy of the Rappahannock. During the long marches, when the short legs of the diminutive drummer boy would weaken, and marching was a severe ordeal for him, the great, strong men would take him on their shoulders, and while he slept they would carry him over many a weary mile. It gives me great pleasure, in calling upon him at this time, not so much because he is your guest, not because he is Past Department Commander of the veterans of this commonwealth, but be- cause of our personal friendship, and I give this sentiment :
The soldier in time of war, the bulwark of the nation ; in time of peace one whom it is a delight to honor ; one who compels our admiration, as he "Shoulders his crutch and shows how fields are won." For all he dared, remember him today. And to respond I call upon the " Drummer Boy of the Rappahannock," Col. Myron P. Walker, of Belchertown.
RESPONSE OF COL. MYRON P. WALKER.
I fully appreciate the opportunity to be present today and take part in the festivities of this important and joyous occasion. I thank you, brother Pope, for your introduction which is kind, I fear far beyond my merit, and I am grate- ful to this splendid audience for so cordial a greeting. You may be sure, however, that I will not impose upon your good
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nature, and that my observations will certainly possess, at least, the merit of brevity. Your historian and others have, in story, made interesting the events which you celebrate to- day, of which I had little previous knowledge, and yet I can rejoice with you, because your glory is the glory of Massa- chusetts, and though I came from the hills and villages of a distant county still, anything and everything which tends to the credit of our beloved commonwealth awakens in me the satisfaction and pride which is at all times becoming in her faithful and loyal sons wherever they may dwell.
I love to hear the old stories of the trials and hardships of our ancestors ; they are to me an inspiration, and when- ever I hear or think about them, I become more deeply im- pressed with the value of our own possessions. And yet, in connection with the sentiment you have given to me, there comes the thought, that in this age of progress, we must not place our dependence upon ancient history or tradition. We must not be content with the record made by our sires, but instead, build monuments which, in our own hereafter, will tell that we, too, had some part and share in the great- ness and splendor of our nation.
It is not out of place at this time, nor will it ever be, to remember that there came a time when the monuments build- ed by our forefathers - when the very life of our nation, was threatened with destruction. Then it was that the men of our time came to the rescue ; the fires of patriotism were kindled anew ; the American citizen became the soldier, " the bulwark of the nation," and thanks to his valor and sacrifice, the nation which came into existence under our an- cestors, was preserved for us and for future generations, great, glorious and truly free.
This is not a soldier's day, as I understand it, but as your eye rests upon the veteran soldiers and sailors who par- ticipate in these exercises, it is well to remember that they have erected monuments which will ever represent patriotism in its highest and purest sense; fidelity to the constitution and laws of one's country, devotion to liberty and humanity unparalleled in the history of the world. Of course it is al- ways a pleasure for me to talk about my veteran friends, be- cause I believe in them and know something of what they
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have accomplished. Other veterans may have made our country, but the soldiers and sailors of '61 to '65 proved them- selves the "bulwark of the nation," and the seal of Appo- mattox is upon their work.
I am not unmindful of the fact that during the war splendid and patriotic service was rendered by thousands 'of loyal men and women who did not go to the front. They gave liberally of their time and substance to sustain the armies in the field, and if my memory serves me, the town of Sandwich with a population of less than 4500 in 1860, appro- priated and expended on account of the war more than $33,000 and paid for aid to the families of your soldiers more than $20,000, which was afterwards refunded by the State. This is a splendid record, but the same authority states that you furnished for the army and navy about four hundred men, which was a surplus of two over and above all demands made upon you. Oh ! my friends, it is one thing to love your country and its flag, but it is something entirely different to be willing to fight and if need be die for them. You who re- mained at home gave and sacrificed much, but the men who went to the front on the land or on the sea, gave more. They parted from home and loved ones, and for long and many years faced danger and death. For what ? personal advance- ment or gain ? Oh no! but that the union might be preserved. A race enslaved know the blessings of liberty, and may the beautiful flag of our country be preserved as your flag and mine without a stain, and without the loss of a single star.
Think kindly of these old veterans my friends! You won't have them with you long, and when the historian of two hundred and fifty years hence shall tell his story, I fancy that by the side of the man who made possible our country, he will place the man who defended and saved it in the hour of greatest peril, proving themselves in every sense, "the bul- wark of the nation."
THE TOASTMASTER.
And now we have the old bell man. No one is better known in your midst. The old bell man, may he long con- tinue as the silent partner of that old bell; may he be tied to that bell rope for many years to come, and we con-
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gratulate him that he can stop its noisy tongue whenever he wishes. I present to you Sandwich's oldest church sexton, in point of years of service - Mr. Charles E. Pope.
CHARLES E. POPE.
I feel somewhat scrupulous in occupying any portion of your time, on this interesting and indeed rare occasion, by re- lating an experience of a half-century at a church bell-rope ; but a word or two in reference to the old town of my birth, and of which I am still a citizen. We learn, both from his- tory and tradition, that ninety-four years before the birth of George Washington, the first President of our Great Repub- lic, which today embraces a population exceeding sixty-five millions of souls, or, in other words, in the year 1638, as the summer season had drawn to its close, a little company of men women and children left their homes in the town of Saugus, of which Lynn was originally a part, and sailed along the Atlantic coast to the shore of Cape Cod, there they landed and located themselves by the seaside in what was then a wilderness bearing the Indian name "Shawme," which is today, our little town of Sandwich. The motives which prompted them to come hither, were better known to themselves than to us. Judging from the moral and religious character of the Puritans and their immediate descendants, as well as others scattered abroad over different sections of New England, at that early period, I draw the conclusion that those pioneers must have been moved by the same spirit that filled the heart of the Saviour of the world, (according to the Gos- pel narrative) when he went out from that Jewish Synagogue into a mountain to pray, nearly nineteen hundred years ago, for that little band brought with them an organized church and planted it here whose two hundred and fiftieth anniversary was celebrated in the old First Church and Parish one yearago. To that church they were devoted and gave it a strong moral and religious support, as well as a legal one, for our country at that early period was under a provincial government subject to the laws of Great Britain, with King Charles the First sitting upon its throne. It was church and state here and everywhere throughout New England, people without dis- tinction were required by law to be taxed for the support
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of the gospel whether they believed it or not. How striking indeed is the contrast between the religious ideas entertained by those early settlers, to those who surround us at the present hour. Under our republican form of government, where we are protected in the right to free labor and free speech, we are also permitted to worship God according to conscience. That is truly the great American idea, and as an American citizen I make the assertion, without reserve, I would not have any religious sect of Christendom or the wide world to gain that ascendency in our country whereby they might (if they choose) establish their system of re- ligious faith as a state religion. God forbid ! for in such an event, we might lay our hand upon our heart and exclaim : Farewell to American Liberty.
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