USA > New Hampshire > Sullivan County > Croydon > Croydon, N.H., 1866. Proceedings at the centennial celebration, June 13, 1866. A brief account of the leading men of the first century Together with historical and statistical sketches of the town > Part 3
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of childhood there seemed to linger a brighter halo of light than shines upon any other spot which my eye has ever beheld. With the feeling which prompted the beautiful sentiment of the poet, I would say :
" How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood When fond recollection presents them to view."
But not all to whom these scenes and haunts are familiar are permitted to see this historic day. Many have fallen in their various fields of labor, far away from their early home ; others have here fainted by the way, and yonder church- yard holds their sacred dust.
But I am carried back to the storied past. Standing at a century-point from the settlement of the town I seem to see in panoramic view the scenes and events of those early days. One hundred years have passed away since our ancestors -those hardy pioneers of civilization-sought homes in the unbroken wilderness where now we see smiling fields, and cultivated farms. We seem to see them now, as they grap- pled manfully and resolutely with the hardships of pioneer life. No exposure, no danger or privation could detain them from the accomplishment of their high purpose. Relying upon the God of their fathers, they were hopeful amidst discourage- ments, and " patient in tribulation." They were of the Puri- tan stock and inherited their love of justice, their devotion to principle and their contempt of toil and danger. Such men were Whipple, Chase, Warren, Leland, Powers and others, who one century ago laid the foundation of this town. They yielded up the endearments of homes and the associa- tions of friends, to receive in exchange the hardships and privations incident to a new settlement. No friendly voice greeted their arrival, no kind hand was outstretched for their relief. The damp earth was their couch, the overhang-
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ing branches of the trees their only roof. The woodman's axe soon breaks the silence of the dense old forest. Soon the curling smoke of the rude log cabin is seen to rise above the tree-tops. Years of privation followed in which, though deprived of most of the physical comforts of life, they were not unmindful of the true element of a permanent prosper- ity. Here the church was erected, within the rude but con- secrated walls of which devout prayer and praise arose from hearts of humble worshipers. Here, too, they erected the school-house-the auxiliary of the Church and the nursery of a true republican state. Thus did our fathers plant a wild, uncultivated wilderness with Christian homes, Chris- tian churches, and common schools. 1128798
But the early settlers of Croydon were not more devoted to their religious and moral obligations than to their claims of country and the civil rights of man. From the battle of Lexington to the close of the war of independence, her sons went promptly forth to battle for home and country. Then, as in the war for the preservation of the Union, her sons were found where duty called. She has never tolerated tories and traitors upon her soil. How valuable the legacy which has been bequeathed to us. How great our obliga- tion to transmit it to posterity. This day forms a connect- ing link between the past century, with all its sorrows and joys, its sad recollections and sacred memories, and the com- ing century with all its hopes of good and bright anticipa- tions. By the veneration we entertain for our fathers-by the love we have for posterity not less than a due regard for our own welfare-we are admonished that we occupy positions of grave responsibility. The influence of individual life extends far beyond the limits of our earthly career. The
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condition of generations which are to follow us depends in no small degree upon the acts we do and the lives we live." How fit the occasion for high and noble resolutions. Let us see to it that posterity have no occasion to reproach us, and that when they shall meet, as we do to-day, to mark anoth- er century in the history of our town, they may be able to refer to our record, as we do to that of our fathers, with feel- ings of pride and veneration. May we then be counted faithful guardians and worthy stewards of the trust commit- ted to us.
May this day form a golden link in friendship's chain, binding us by the sweet influence of association to each other and to our native town. But, Mr. President, I am fearful I have spoken too long and trespassed on time which properly belongs to others. My friends, in conclusion let me say, that you have heard, though imperfectly I confess, from the " Bartons and Powerses in combination." I trust that you will not judge of the standing and strength of my maternal or paternal ancestors, by this hasty and immature effort of mine. They deserve to be judged by a higher standard. Their history is interwoven most closely with the history of the town, from its earliest days. I trust I shall not be charged with invidious boasting if I claim for them, as families, a somewhat leading position in the vari- ous walks of social and civil life. To say that they had faults is but to proclaim their common humanity.
Let us, their descendants, avoid their errors and emulate their virtues, for in no way can we honor them so much as by excelling them in virtue.
In closing, allow me to present to the assembly the fol- lowing sentiment :
John IL. Bufford's Lith. Boston
Augusto Cooper Bristol
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JOHN COOPER, the Historian of Croydon : While endeav- oring to rescue the names and deeds of his ancestors from oblivion, he has secured his own immortality.
THE PRESIDENT .- The weather does not seem propitious for the muses this afternoon; but Croydon Poets are irre- pressible. You will listen to a Centennial Poem prepared for the occasion by Mrs. AUGUSTA COOPER BRISTOL, of Illinois.
The following Poem was then read and sung by the Glee Club :
No power has made secure or fast, The sepulchre with portal vast, That opens on the buried Past.
And Poesy puts forth her hand, And group by group, and band by band, The dead years rise at her command.
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Not freezing specters, chill and numb, Nor ghostly shadows, dim and dumb ;- But crowned and glorified they come.
Their step a song, their march a rhyme, Along the grand arcade of Time,
The century-children tower sublime.
Titans, majestically tall,
· The ancient years rise first of all, . In answer to my poet call.
Giants of sternest hardihood, They cleave a pathway rough and rude, Defeating wrong, achieving good.
Where Nature all unconquered stands, They lift their iron-sinewed hands, And train her meek to their commands.
Severely brave, because so pure, They fail not. Victory is sure ! They grapple, conquer, and secure !
Their code confronts Oppression's rod !- " All men are kings upon the sod, Heaven-vested ! Only God is God!"
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They are unto themselves reward ; They hold the beauty of accord, And theirs the secret of the Lord.
They pass ;- and still a later throng Of century-children sweep along, Urged by the miracle of song.
These bring the balmy bud of Peace ; Their calm eyes hold a blessed lease Of homely comfort and increase.
Sweet counterparts, in Time's refrain, They round the rich crescendo strain Of Plenty, Industry, and Gain.
And Art ignores her doubtful pause, And Science, trusty vassal, draws The veil from Nature's cryptic laws.
For them Contentment wreaths her vine, And floods them with auroral shine, As slow they vanish,-line by line.
And following them, the immortal few,- Last in the century review,- Move down the spirit avenue.
The Christs among the ages! Lo, The carmine drips across the snow Of their pure vesture as they go !
And all the blood-drops, purple-ripe, And every symbol stain and stripe, Divinest meanings stereotype.
Their God-thought blossoms into deed ; Freedom and brotherhood their creed, To right all human wrong and need.
They thunder at the monarch's gate, "One throne alone 's inviolate !- The White Throne where the angels wait."
Around Oppression's grave they chant Their hallelujahs jubilant, Till earth and heaven are reboant.
Their martyr-brows are aureate With thought. Their lifted eyes dilate With visions of man's ultimate.
Sublimest of the century name, They pass enwrapt in spirit flame, And fade all-glorious as they came.
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Divinely wrought, and mission true, Far in the silence and the blue, Fades out the hundred-year review.
Oh raise for them a pean free, My friends to-day ! for unto thee They leave a royal legacy.
A power to smite Injustice down ; To give to Freedom's brow the crown, Though kings demur and tyrants frown.
A will all human woe to heed, To seize ideal thought at need, And crystalize it into deed.
A hope to fill the heart with song, Though Right should seem eclipsed by Wrong, And life engloomed with shadows long.
A consciousness untrained and free, That spheres what Reason cannot see !- Feels God through self-divinity.
And best of all the precious dower, The cheerful spirit-will and power, That waits on duty, hour by hour.
Oh, close to all the heart reveres, Our royal legacy adheres- Bequeathment of a hundred years !
May the Almighty's record-page, Prove that the heirs of such an age Were worthy of their heritage.
Then raise a pean full and free, And in the sweets of jubilee Embalm the dear old Century.
THE PRESIDENT .- You will next listen to a voice which comes back to us from the Empire State,-a man in whom, if reports be true, are combined great professional skill and princely munificence. When a son of Dea. Sherman Cooper speaks, you will all delight to listen. I call upon Dr. WILLIAM F. COOPER, of New York, for a speech.
Mr Cooper responded as follows :
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Mr. President, Gentlemen and Ladies :
I did not know that I was expected to speak on this occasion till since my arrival. I am not used to speaking in public, the last forty years of my life having been spent in the sick-room, where the hushed voice and muffled step have ill prepared me to appear before this vast assembly. But, after an absence of thirty-nine years, I am glad to re- visit the town of my birth and the place of my boyhood ; and I am gratified that so many of my fellow-townsmen and their descendants have given me and those that I have brought with me so cordial a reception.
I went out from you in my strength; I have returned to you in my weakness. I went to a section of country where are no mountains; nor are there any rocks except of second- ary formation. Your mountains and your vast bowlders of granite.awaken in me feelings of sublimity and grandeur at the power of the Creator. Though your mountains and rocks remain much the same, O how altered are the inhab- itants since I left you, and what vacancies do I see in the crowd around me ! I fail to see the manly form and counte- nance of Abijah Powers, and the firm, military step of Samuel Powers. I fail to see those Revolutionary patriots, who composed the heads of so many families. They were men that left their homes in the depth of winter, and marched on snow-shoes, under Arnold, amid cold and starv- ation, into Canada. I fail to see the noble men who, when one-half of the men in town, capable of bearing arms, were called for to stop the progress of Gen. Burgoyne and his well-drilled army in their march from Canada to Albany, responded to the call, met and routed the enemy at Benning- ton, and afterwards at Saratoga, capturing the General and
Lithol' JHBufford Boston.
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his whole army, and thereby forever rendering those battle- fields classic ground.
Remember, Mr. President, that only ten years had elapsed after the first settler had found his way to Croydon, before the storm of the Revolution swept over the scattered settle- ment. Where can another lot of such self-sacrificing men be found ? Your rugged soil and mountain air were well calculated to make patriots-to make men; and well did they fulfill their mission. But those patriots are all gone. Not one remains to tell us, as they often did on training and " election" days, of the hardships and sufferings which they went through, and of their love of General Washington.
Mr. President : I have visited the first cemetery of this town; and I have visited the last one. There I saw the resting place, and read the epitaphs of your ancestors and mine. I went alone-the most fitting way of visiting the "City of the Dead." There I saw the grave of the first one born in town. There I saw the graves of my school- mates, the companions of my boyhood. There I saw the resting place of my parents, whom I left in health, as I went to seek my fortune amongst strangers. They lived to a good old age, and their deaths were regretted by the com- munity in which they lived. In these grave-yards sleep those who cleared up this rugged town, established these schools and churches, and laid the foundation of all that is calculated to make true men and women of all within the hearing of my voice. There those sleepers must lie till the morn of the resurrection. And, Mr. President, is it not a thought calculated to make us better men and women, that the next Centennial Anniversary will find this vast crowd of living faces asleep with their fathers ?
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Mr. President : I feel like indulging in some reminis- cences of my own early personal history. Here I was born; here in your midst I went in and out; and here my character was formed-for good or for bad. You are my witnesses that after the strictest sect I was brought up a Pharisee. I visited yesterday the place where I attended the district school. The house was gone, but the foundation was there. It carried me back to the years of my boyhood, when Carl- ton Barton kept the school winter after winter. The stove- pipe that ran up almost perpendicularly, was oval in shape and as large as my body. The house being poorly lighted, the area behind the stove was usually too dark to be used for study or recitation. There I often went to warm myself and contrive to make the other scholars laugh. The teacher would call them up and punish them, while I always escaped punishment-except in a single instance. A man by the name of Wood once taught the school. He saw me making faces at him, and pounced upon me so suddenly, that I was much frightened. Although the school-house is gone, the stream of water which ran beside it is there still; and the furrows which the stream in past ages had worn in running over the granite ledge, are also there. There we used to go and drink the running water in summer-and many a time have I cut the silverweed stems that were hollow, and gave them to the pretty girls, for them to put in their mouths and draw up drink. I have no recollection of ever getting any for the boys.
The white birch is also gone. It was a crotched tree, the crotch having been used by me for a pulpit. There I used to sit and act as minister to a little flock of girls and boys that would gather around me during the noonings. They
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would sing, and I would pray and preach. Those days, I now know, were my happiest days. I was then looking forward to better days, but I have never seen them.
Mr. President : As I stand on this platform, I see the familiar river that meanders through the meadow a few rods before me. It brings vividly to my recollection an incident of my first love. I was then ten years old, being about the same age of Patty Winter, my lady-love. We used to attend the same school ; and we read, and spelled and played together. She wore a red dress, and was thought by me to be a little angel. Mr. Durkee, one of our neighbors, had hay dry enough to be put in the barn-and there were signs of rain. The neighbors were called upon for help; and I, a ten years old boy, was required to rake after the cart. Being a warm day, James Powers sent to Captain Whipple's distillery and got some potato whisky. They all drank, and gave to me. Having never tasted anything of the kind before, I drank because others drank. The consequence was that I soon became drunk; and, as I was raking on the bank of the river, I fell in, and was nearly drowned. I was rescued by Obed Whipple; and after I got over strangling so that I could speak, my first words were, " Don't tell Patty Winter." So you see, gentlemen and ladies, that my love for the fair sex, at that innocent age, was stronger than for either earth or heaven. And there are some of my neighbors standing here, that can tell you if in that respect any change has taken place in me since.
Mr. President : I will draw my remarks to a close, as others are to follow me. But, before retiring, I wish to speak of the deep religious principles of some of the early settlers of this town, and of their strict adherence both to
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the letter and spirit of the Bible. Perhaps I cannot better illustrate these than by citing the case of Ezekiel Powers, as a representative man of the first settlers of Croydon. Some years after the first settlement, a minister by the name of Ballard came into town, gathered a church, and established rules for the guidance of members and the government of the church. One rule made it the duty of church-members to keep the Sabbath day holy, and have their children do the same. It was, in an especial manner, enjoined on par- ents to prohibit their sons from going a courting, and their daughters from having sparks, as they were called, on Sun- day nights. Another ordinance passed by the church was, that if a parent could not make his children obey him after suitable admonition and correction, he was to report them to the church, where by a vote they were to be " thrown over to the buffetings of satan."
Ezekiel Powers, on his return from the meeting in which these ordinances were passed, called his family around him, and told them of the ordinances of the church. Being an indulgent parent, he told them that they should be indulged in anything not forbidden in the Bible; but his commands and the rules and regulations of the church must be obeyed. He closed the interview with prayer-praying that the Lord would cause his children to obey. But his oldest son Ezekiel, sixteen years of age, went that same night a courting, and did not return home till the family were at breakfast. As he entered the room on Monday morning, his father seized him by the collar, cuffed and shook him, and whipped him severely, telling him at the conclusion, that if he ever trans- gressed in the same way again, he would double the chas- tisement. But the son told his father that he should go as
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often as he "had a mind to." The father then thought that he had discharged his duty. Accordingly the next Sabbath, after brother Ballard had closed his sermon, Ezekiel Powers arose-his manly form of six feet towering above the congregation-and, with tears streaming down his face, said to the brethren and sisters : "I arise to perform a painful duty to my family, to the church, and to my God. My beloved son Ezekiel proves incorrigible, and went a courting Sunday night; and, however it distresses me to say it, I consent by a vote to heave him over to the buffetings of satan." Ezra Cooper, one of the brethren present, arose about half way up, and, with his arms extended horizontally before him said, " Heave my son Jonathan over with him," -he having a son of that name, who went a courting the Sunday night before.
It only remains for me, gentlemen and ladies, to thank you for the hospitality with which you have welcomed your returned sons and daughters. I feel proud of Croydon, the town of my birth. All that I am or ever expect to be, rests on the foundation begun, laid and finished here. I feel proud of the ladies that have furnished the tables with such taste and elegance; and I feel proud that the ladies have such good husbands, brothers and sons who have provided so bountifully to fill the tables to overflowing. Finally, I feel proud that I was born in this town. Mr. President, I feel proud that the talented Leland, the manly Powers, and the honest Cooper blood runs in my veins. And, when I see this vast multitude, the product of this small town, I feel proud of you all, that you have obeyed the first and great command of the Bible, " Multiply and replenish the earth."
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THE PRESIDENT .- I have the pleasure of introducing to this audience a descendant of Moses Whipple, " the father of the town,"-THOMAS WHIPPLE, Esq., of Charlestown, who can speak for himself.
Mr. Whipple said :
Mr. President :
One hundred years ago, Seth Chase and his companion stood gazing for the first time upon the same magnificent scenery which surrounds us to-day. The grand outlines are the same, but civilization has wrought changes in the details. When they turned their eyes to the east there stood before them Pine Hill, not as now rough and jagged, but covered all over with tall pines gracefully waving their beautiful branches in the breeze ; at their feet lay two miniature lakes reflecting the beams of the rising sun, while at the west loomed up Croydon Mountain. Nature had spread out all around them only beauty and grandeur, yet how sad and lonely must have been their condition. They were alone. No human voice to cheer, or heart to sympathize with them. All around them was a dark, howling wilderness. Fifteen days after, as we may well conceive, most gladly did they welcome Moses Whipple and David Warren, who arrived with their families.
It has been my good fortune from my earliest boyhood to be much with the early settlers of this town, and listen to their conversations,-and hence, had I time I could relate many a thrilling or amusing incident connected with the early history of the town. I could tell you something of the grief that wrung our mothers' hearts when Capt. Moses Whipple was called to lead away to the war so many of
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their husbands and sons, and with what ecstasy their return was hailed.
My time will permit me to relate only one or two inci- dents ; and first, I will tell you about a boat-ride to which an inhabitant of this town was once treated. Having refused to pay his taxes, and secreted his property, the collector went with his posse to arrest him. Armed with a loaded gun he defiantly threatened with death any one who should attempt the arrest. Dea. Whipple calmly remarking that he was as well prepared to die as any one of the party, sprang upon and disarmed him. He was placed upon horse- back, to be taken to prison, but he rolled himself off as fast as he was put on the rude saddle. The patience of the par- ty becoming exhausted, they improvised a stout stone boat, to which he was firmly bound. A spirited horse was attach- ed to the boat. The collector mounted another, and started for Charlestown jail. Ordinary boat-rides often produce sea- sickness, and the track here led over rocks, stumps, and the roots and trunks of fallen trees, which were not very care- fully avoided; but he braced himself against all sensations of the kind. Voyagers across the Atlantic to the North American coast are delighted, especially in winter, on approaching the Gulf Stream. The warmness of the water, and the balmy softness of the atmosphere are peculiarly agreeable. But when our hero approached a gulf in the south part of the town, through which ran an unbridged stream, he shrank back, beat up a parley, paid the tax and costs, and returned a sadder and a wiser, if not a better man. The effect was most salutary; and it was long before anoth- er, having the pecuniary ability, refused or neglected to pay taxes with which he was legally assessed.
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And now let me tell you another story of how a husband was made well and a wife made sick. The main wheel to the mill first erected in the town became deranged, and no one could be found to put it in order except the person that built it. Lame and almost helpless, he was carried to the wheel-pit, where by accident he was precipitated into the icy cold water. The suddenness of the immersion, and his efforts to escape from the unwelcome bath, completely cured him for the time. The necessary repairs were made, and he walked homeward. His wife seeing him approach, and imagining that he was killed and that she saw his appari- tion, was overcome by the emotion and confined to her bed, while the husband resumed his former labors.
Your President has alluded to the fact that I am a descendant of Moses Whipple. You will indulge me in a few words in relation to him. He was a proprietor and one of the earliest settlers of the town. He descended in the fifth generation from Matthew Whipple, who settled at Ipswich hamlet, Mass., in 1635. He was born in 1733. His early advantages for education were quite limited. He was by occupation a mill-wright and surveyor of land. In 1762, he was appointed by the Governor of Massachusetts an officer in the militia " in the regiment whereof Artemus Ward was Colonel." At the organization of the militia of Croydon in 1774, he was chosen Captain and commissioned by John Wentworth, the last colonial governor of the Province. The next year he was appointed to the same office by Matthew Thornton, President of the Congress of New Hampshire. He was a representative to one of the early Conventions held at Exeter, and for several years elected to the. State Legislature. When the soldiers of
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