USA > New Hampshire > Cheshire County > Dublin > The history of Dublin, N.H. : containing the address by Charles Mason, and the proceedings at the centennial celebration, June 17, 1852, with a register of families > Part 7
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THOS. HARDY.
JONA. K. SMITH, ASA H. FISK, R. N. PORTER, Committee of Invitation.
6. Third regular sentiment: -
"OUR REVOLUTIONARY SOLDIERS. - Their names may not have come down to us to be entwined with laurel; but the work of their hands survives, - a crown of glory to the people, a star of hope to the nations."
QUARTETTE - "HAIL, YE HEROES," etc.
Mr. LAWSON BELKNAP made some interesting extemporane- ous remarks, interspersed with anecdotes, showing the spirit and energy displayed by the people of this town during the War of the Revolution, and the dangers and hardships en- countered in defence of the country.
The following sentiment was sent by JOHN ELLIOT, Esq., of Keene, formerly of Dublin: -
"THE PATRIOTS OF BUNKER'S HILL - Among whom, seventy- seven years ago this day, my father, and the fathers or grandfathers of many of you, struck the first blow for the freedom of their homes: may the memory of their virtue and devotion be with us, as abiding and ennobling as the hills that shadow their graves."
7. Fourth sentiment: -
"OUR FOREFATHERS. - The times in which they lived may be sneered at as the 'old pod auger times.' The men themselves may be
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laughed at, for carrying a stone in one end of the sack to balance the grain in the other; but well would it be for those who deride them to imitate their many good qualities. Though humble, yet they were virtuous and respectable."
CHORUS - "HAIL, HAPPY DAY," etc.
SAMUEL MORSE, Esq., of Croydon, formerly of Dublin, re- sponded to this sentiment, and had spoken but a few minutes when a clap of thunder admonished the assembly to seek some better shelter than the dense foliage of the grove. They accord- ingly adjourned to the meetinghouse and held the remaining exercises there. Mr. Morse declined saying more; and, from the peculiar circumstances, no notes were taken of what he did say.
By DANIEL ELLIOT, M.D .: -
"THE MEMORY OF THE THREE MORSES. - Deacon Eli, Squire Reuben, and Major John: worthy specimens of the primary granite formation of the town of Dublin; may 'chips of the old block' never be wanting among you."
Letter of Rev. ABIEL ABBOT, D.D .: -
PETERBOROUGH, June 12, 1852.
GENTLEMEN :
I thank you for the invitation to attend the celebration of the hundredth anniversary of the settlement of Dublin. If the infirmi- ties of fourscore and six years permit, I shall gladly attend. [He did attend.]
It gives me high satisfaction that the people of Dublin propose to hold a centennial celebration commemorative of the settlement of the town. The hardships, privations, and dangers which the first settlers endured ought to be remembered; and the courage, fortitude, self-denial, and patient toil which they exercised ought never to be forgotten. The first third of the century was peculiarly trying. Severe labor, hard fare, provisions scarce and distant, camp in the woods, bad or no roads, few in number, exposed to cruel savages in the French War of 1755, sufferings in the Revolutionary War, able-bodied men called to the army, money scarce or depreciated, were some of the difficulties to be encountered. Having been born in the woods, some of these trials are fresh in my memory, others were repeated by those who endured them.
The second third of the century was less trying. Labor was less severe, farms and buildings were greatly improved, the number of inhabitants increased, roads made and improved, and plenty and prosperity enjoyed.
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The last third of the century has been attended with great improve- ment and prosperity. Farms have been well cultivated, houses built and repaired, convenience and comfort have been sought, the im- provement of the roads has claimed much attention and labor, and the value of property has been increased.
Much has been successfully done for the social, intellectual, moral, and religious education of the young. The districts are supplied with good and convenient schoolhouses, teachers are well qualified, parents and others regard the schools with deeper interest, and are ready to furnish facilities for their improvement.
The Sunday-school has been well attended, and been very bene- ficial in forming the moral and religious character of the rising genera- tions. Valuable libraries are provided for the young, and for those who have ceased to resort to the schoolhouse for instruction. The church has been ably and faithfully supplied, and been well attended; and harmony and peace have been enjoyed in the town.
For the last quarter of the century past, I have, with much satis- faction, witnessed the constant improvement in Dublin; especially in what pertains to the social, moral, and religious culture of the young. I cordially congratulate the people on the present prosperous condi- tion and prospects of the town, and I rejoice to believe that they will continue to advance in what is excellent and praiseworthy.
Wishing, gentlemen, that you may have a joyous and happy cele- bration, I am respectfully your friend,
ABIEL ABBOT.
To JONA. K. SMITH, ASA H. FISK, RANSOM N. PORTER,
Committee of Invitation.
8. Fifth sentiment: -
"OUR FOREMOTHERS. - Their spinning-jenny spun but one thread; their power-loom was propelled by their own muscles; their piano 'discoursed sweet music' from the linen-wheel; their pleasure-carriage, ยท the old horse with saddle and pillion; their tea and coffee, an infusion of pork and beans, - models for wives, patterns for mothers."
SONG - "OUR GLORIOUS YANKEE NATION"
Communication from Dr. EBENEZER MORSE of Walpole: -
Mr. President, - At the invitation of your committee, I have come once more to revisit my native hills, survey the beautiful prospects, admire the crystal ponds, and listen to the melody of the murmuring streams. These, I find, retain all their pristine beauty with which they were clothed sixty-seven years ago, when I first inhaled the pure atmosphere which always plays around these beautiful heights between Merrimack
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and Connecticut Rivers. I have come also to mingle my con- gratulations with other residents of this my native town on this exhilarating festival.
After an absence of more than forty years, it is to be expected that I should see many new faces; and I find it so. Not one in a hundred is familiar to my eye. Our fathers and mothers meet us here no more; our brothers and sisters, nephews and nieces, have mostly gone to distant lands, or are grown out of our rec- ognition. Where are the Greenwoods, skilful workers of wood and iron, whose faces we used to see every Sunday? Where are the different families of Twitchells, that we were accus- tomed to see holding the breaking-up plough or tending mills? Where are the Morses and Masons, whose mingled blood flows in my veins, and whose presence we were always sure to greet on every public day?
Alas! yonder gravestones can silently tell The place where their bodies now peaceably dwell.
On visiting my native place, my memory is clustered with a thousand recollections dear to my heart; and if I revert to them on this occasion, before responding to the sentiment that was last read, I trust I shall be pardoned for the digression.
There's a witching enchantment in that little grove Where we children and lambs in the shade loved to rove, Till "old crazy Stanford" was seen there one day, Which spoiled all our innocent frolic and play. The rocks in the fields where we labored can show The marks of the harrow, plough, shovel, and hoe. I can see all the brooks where the trout used to play, The meadows and ponds where we fished and made hay; Can hear the shrill notes of the loon, which so fond Is calling her mate from a neighboring pond.
That primitive church, alas! where is it now, Where our fathers and mothers in faith loved to bow? By the side of Beech Mountain for years it had stood - Recording the prayers of the pious and good. I remember the pews with their pretty turned slats, And the posts where the men used to hang up their hats. These last were a happy resort for the head,
And lengthened the naps when long sermons were read. But the music awoke every one to admire,
When they heard Ensign Twitchell lead off in the quire. That christening-font very seldom was dry, Where Christ, with his blessing on children, was nigh. Here Sprague taught the truths which religion adorn, And left all his treasures for children unborn.
0
Obert More
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That bright crystal spring near the church never dried, Where we boys ate bread and cheese by its side.
Here we spent our long noonings, of which we were fond, And picked the sweet berries that grew round the pond.
But these scenes to which I have alluded have mostly passed away; still memory lingers around those spots in which youth has so many hallowed associations. But one object, and a very prominent one, in the features of Dublin scenery, remains very little altered during the last fifty years, or even the last six thousand years; and that is old Monadnock.
There he stands, gazing far up in the sky, Expecting a kiss from the clouds that pass by. His head is quite bald, and has been growing gray Since Adam and Eve saw the light of day. His nightcap of fog always keeps on his head, Till all the damp clouds to the ocean have fled. His jacket and coat that he formerly wore, Composed of short spruces, are seen there no more; In a fire with high wind he once happened to lose 'em, And the brilliant carbuncle he wore in his bosom.
In these tangled forests the wolves used to roam, And howl through the woods when their whelps were half grown; And well I remember when my uncle Ben Brought three home alive, which he took from their den. And many a sheep, from their ravenous bite, Have had their blood sucked from their throats in one night. But a wolf hunt is called from the neighboring towns, They take up their march with a whoop and a hollo! And a ring of sharp-shooters the mountain surrounds. The hounds take the lead, and the hunters all follow; But the wolves were too cunning, so hide in their den, And never were seen by the hounds or the men. All the game of the hunt is a great lazy bear, Whose flesh, when well roasted, the company share.
But our mothers must now claim our especial attention. Mine was born one hundred two years ago, was married at sixteen, and, at the commencement of the Revolutionary War, had four children. Notwithstanding this care on her hands, she was ready and willing to assist in getting the hay while my father was in the army; and was also compelled to listen to the roar of the cannon, as it came from the plains of Bennington, where her husband was fighting the battles of his country's freedom. And I have heard old Mr. Johnson say, that, on the 17th of June, seventy-seven years ago to-day, he was half-hilling his corn; and, every time he stopped to rest on
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his hoe-handle, he could hear the distant roar of the cannon, which was then dealing death on the heights of Bunker Hill. These were times that truly tried men's souls, and women's souls too; for they knew not but the very same cannon were making themselves widows, and their children fatherless.
But fortitude, courage, and freedom were there, Which the men and the women must equally share.
In the sentiment that has been read, allusion has been made to the old-fashioned pillion. These, in every sense of the word, were pleasure carriages, and the only ones in use till 1813. In parties of pleasure, as well as of business, they were considered both safe and commodious. Dr. Caustic, who wrote more than fifty years ago, describing a fancy ball, says: -
"My girl, the prettiest of a million, Shall ride behind me on a pillion."
And it was no unusual sight to see a couple start for a ball in that pleasant and cozy mode of conveyance. In one instance which I witnessed, a skittish horse was so frightened with the white dress, pink sash, and flowing ribbons of the ball dress, that he could not be brought within six feet of the object of his fears; but the young belle had the ability to leap from the top bar of a four-rail fence, and land herself safely on the pillion; and, when her arm was fairly round the waist of her beau, there was no danger of being thrown; for the more the horse reared, and the faster he cantered, the tighter she clung to the object of her affections.
But by a good substantial horse-block, with which every dooryard was furnished, the ascent and descent to and from these pleasure carriages was rendered both easy and commodi- ous. There was one, always in repair, at each end of the old meetinghouse, for public use; and I have heard my father say that, when he and mother started from church, the old mare never broke her trot, up hill and down, till they got home. And, after the introduction of four-wheeled carriages, you could not persuade a prudent woman, who had for fifteen or twenty years enjoyed the safe and easy seat of a pillion, to expose herself to the danger and complicated movements of a wagon under the price of a broken neck.
Our mothers also knew how to make bean-porridge, and always recommended it by example as well as by precept. It
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was a standard dish for supper, and never produced the night- mare, which is the effect of many dishes now in use. It was a fancy dish too; so much so as to be put into rhyme, and every child was taught to sing: -
"Bean-porridge hot, bean-porridge cold, Bean-porridge in the pot nine days old,"
accompanied with clapping of hands with as much zest as "Old Dan Tucker" or "Uncle Ned" are at the present day. But, when I came upon the stage, bread and cider and milk porridge took the place of the fancy dish of our fathers and mothers, and finally banished the porridge pot from the chim- ney corner, where it usually stood with its contents unexhausted for at least nine days.
The last view we shall take of our mothers must be at the musical spinning-wheel. There they spun but one thread at a time; but that was a long one and a strong one. It happily resembled the thread of life, which they spun to a good old age. This, too, was even, smooth, strong, and enduring; never got tangled or snarled with the petty jars which too often disturb the votaries of a fashionable life.
A daughter's outfit at her marriage, in those days, was con- sidered incomplete without a spinning-wheel. And why should it not be, since, without that useful instrument of domestic industry, their children must have gone without shirts? There were no "factory girls" then; but all the women were manu- factory girls, and scarcely an article of clothing was used in the family that was not spun and wove by the skill and industry of females. There was no muslin to work but that made of flax and wool, no embroidery but that wrought in the checkered apron, no cushions to stuff but the pillion, no gymnastics but the wheel and loom, no pound-cake to cook but that made of rye and Indian, no lacing cords but the woolen apron strings. And what were the physical results? Why, rosy cheeks, spark- ling eyes, vigorous minds, strong muscles, good appetite, hardy constitutions, courageous hearts, and kind souls. Compare the effeminacy of our present fashionable females with the hardy, healthy, enduring, and useful mothers of fifty years ago; and then think what will be the helpless condition of the females of the next hundred years, if they suffer themselves to continue under the deteriorating influence of custom, fashions, and the false pretensions of refinement. The persevering in- dustry, the frugal economy, the useful employment, and
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energy of character of our mothers ought to be written on the hearts of the present generation as an everlasting memorial of departed worth, and recorded in the town records for an ad- monition to those who shall celebrate the next centennial festival of Dublin.
But I have something more to say about the musical foot- wheel, the mention of which reminds me of a short chapter in my own history, which I beg the privilege to abbreviate.
Forty-eight years ago, I wrote a sonnet, describing the per- sonal beauties, the mental accomplishments, but more particu- larly the industrious habits and admirable skill, of a certain young lady, with whose united charms I was more than half in love. She is probably present now, lives in this town, has a family of children, and no doubt makes a good wife. I must further add, that I never had the courage to show her the son- net: had I done so, the destiny of both of us might have been materially altered through life. I do not recollect all that I wrote of her domestic qualifications; but one couplet, relating to the foot-wheel, is still fresh in my memory, which I will repeat : -
" With merry heart I saw her twist off The magic thread from her pine distaff."
I make this quotation from one of my juvenile productions, not on account of its poetical beauties, or to refresh the mem- ory of one I so much esteemed, but to show the high estimation in which the industrious and useful employments of young ladies were held in former times, so much so as to be celebrated in songs and sonnets; and I venture the assertion, that an ex- pert performer on the foot-wheel, forty or fifty years ago, was as much toasted, complimented, and admired for her execu- tion on that instrument, as the fashionable drummers on the modern piano are at the present day.
Oh! the kitchen was a delectable hall for such musical con- certs.
The boys dressed the flax, and the girls spun the tow,
And the music of mother's foot-wheel was not slow.
The flax on the bended pine distaff was spread, With squash-shell of water to moisten her thread. Such were the pianos our mothers would keep, Which they played on while spinning their children to sleep. My mother's, I'm sure, must have borne off the medal;
For she always was placing her foot on the pedal. The warp and the filling were piled in the room, Till the web was completed and fit for the loom.
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Then labor was pleasure, and industry smiled, While the wheel and the loom every trouble beguiled; And here, at the distaff, the good wives were made, Where Solomon's precepts were fully obeyed.
DEAR SIR: 1
I intended to have been present at your centennial celebration, and have prepared some remarks, by way of response to a sentiment sent me, for the occasion; but numerous other avocations, I fear, will prevent my being present, though my sympathies will be with you. Should you deem them appropriate, you may cause them to be read, as the sentiments of
E. MORSE.
WALPOLE, June 14, 1852.
9. Sixth sentiment: -
"THE LATE REV. EDWARD SPRAGUE. - As noted for liberality as for eccentricity. Generations unborn shall rise up and bless his memory."
SONG - "FORGET NOT THE DEAD," etc.
Mr. MOSES COREY, being present, remarked that he lived for a considerable time in the family of Mr. Sprague, in a situation that gave him many opportunities of knowing his opinions, views, and feelings; and he could testify, from his own knowl- edge, to the truth of the idea embodied in the above sentiment. He related several anecdotes illustrative of his liberality in religious opinions, as well as his eccentricity in common affairs. His religious views were different from those of most of the clergymen of his own denomination in the vicinity.
10. Seventh sentiment: -
"EMIGRANTS FROM DUBLIN, PRESENT AND ABSENT. - Scattered from Maine to California. May the principles here inculcated in youth prove a shield in the hour of trial, and make each one a foun- tain sending forth similar influences to others!"
MUSIC BY THE BAND
To this sentiment Mr. JAMES G. PIPER of Boston responded as follows: -
Mr. President, Ladies, and Gentlemen, - In attempting to
1 Mr. Morse was unavoidably absent and his address was read to the audience. This brief letter to the presiding officer expresses, in advance, his fear that he could not be present. - J. L. S.
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speak here, I labor under great disadvantages, for this is a centennial meeting, embracing in its subjects for our considera- tion the events of a hundred years, nearly seventy of which had rolled their seasons past ere I was born. I stand before many who can discourse familiarly upon occurrences that passed under their immediate observation years before I had opened my eyes to the light of day, and were eye-witnesses to scenes of which I know nothing except by hearsay. Therefore I feel embarrassed, and more inclined to make my bow and sit down than to proceed. But I know that you are kind and indulgent, and will pardon me for being born so late in the century, and make all just allowance for my youth and inexperience. In making my speech, I suppose I ought to begin at the begin- ning, in the year one of the town. But here I am baffled at the outset; for I cannot look back thirty years before things ap- pear so shady and indistinct that I can scarcely discern a single object. One step farther, and I am completely befogged; and any attempt at exploration is as fruitless as the search for Sir John Franklin.
But the "emigrants from Dublin" have been kindly noticed here; and it so happens that I am one of that class, resident down in the Old Bay State, a state in some respects second to none in the Union, and which we venerate next to our own good Granite State; for it is the native state of many of our ancestors. There is Plymouth Rock; there, too, are Lexington, Concord, and Bunker Hill; and this day is not only the anni- versary of the settlement of this town, but likewise of the battle of Bunker Hill. Since then, how changed! Before the settler's axe the primeval forests have bowed, and their ashes now fertilize the soil you cultivate. The thunder-drums of war have beat and ceased. The old heroes are gone.
"They sleep their last sleep; They have fought their last battle; No sound can awake them to glory again."
But the glory of their deeds shall last, and their names be sur- rounded with a halo of glory; and such a fame shall be theirs as before them no mortals had won.
Yes, I am a son of Dublin, and love to be asked where I hail from. I always answer promptly. Once, when a resident in Worcester, Mass., a man there, a native of the north part of the state, said to me, by way of a wipe, that he did not see how it happened that such a hard, hilly place ever became settled.
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I answered that many of the first settlers came from Massa- chusetts, having too much enterprise to stay there, especially in the part where his father lived. I did not wish to be uncivil, but we all know that either state has plenty of hills and rocks, and produces abundance of spoonhunt and mulleins. But people are not to be judged by soil and climate alone: their churches and schoolhouses are to be noticed; and Dublin has them both, and they have their influence upon the people. The farms here are not so productive as in some other parts, nor do the people boast of their interest-money and stocks; yet the savings bank at Keene and Freeman's Bank at Boston have their Dublin depositors and shareholders. But, if Dublin is such a good place, why do so many leave it, and even go back to Massachusetts, which the enterprise of their ancestors led them to leave? Since this town was settled, great changes have taken place. Railroads have been built from city to city, and into the heart of the country, and we have been induced to try our luck abroad; but I confess, come to return, and see how well off those are we left, how independent and easy they live, I am almost sorry I ever left; for, after all, in the words of Burns: -
"There's nae hame like the hame o' youth, Nae ither land sae fair; Nae ither faces look sae kind As the smilin' faces there."
An old Scotch lady, who was born during the passage of her parents to this country, used to say she was not born on the Eastern nor the Western Continent, nor anywhere else on the face of the earth. Now, I think it quite unfortunate not to be born somewhere on the face of the earth, and I am thankful, in the first place, that I had the good luck to be born some- where, and, in the second place, that I was born in so good a place as Dublin.
But whither have the emigrants from Dublin gone? The East, the West, the North, the South, can answer. To trace their paths, you must stretch away over yonder Green Moun- tain ridge, that floats, as it were, against the sky of your west- ern horizon; over the Alleghanies, to the prairies of the far- distant West; out among the Middle States, and down among the sunny Southern; ay, follow the banks of the River Platte till you have crossed Nebraska, and reached the Rocky Moun- tains; pass through the gorge, and traverse the wild Indian deserts, where not a sound strikes the ear save the yell of the
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savage, or yelp of the coyote; and pass over the Sierra Nevada Mountains, down among the golden gulches of California; and even there shall you find Dublin represented. Her sons have traversed the Eastern Ocean and the Western Ocean; doubled Cape Horn, and doubled Good Hope; sailed all around the globe; and long ago would have been to the moon, had any conveyance thither been discovered. It is quite evident that the character of the natives of Dublin is somewhat migratory; but I am sure none will ever forget or cease to venerate his native town; and may those good principles early inculcated ever guide them, whether at home or abroad, on the ocean or the land!
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