USA > New York > Suffolk County > Southold > Griffin's journal : first settlers of Southold, the names of the heads of those families, being only thirteen at the time of their landing; first proprietors of Orient, biographical sketches > Part 16
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It is a great thing to die; we know not how it is to others, but we again repeat, it is a great thing to die ! Were the living to properly appreciate this truth, not a moment would be lost in the preparation ; but they do not. With him, the rubicon of life was suddenly passed ; the messenger, Death, came quick; the shaft flew strong; he expired, unconscious of the summons. The laying off of this earthly vesture, the final leaving of this tried existence-endeared by home, family, and friends-for the unseen, untried, and immaterial exist- ence of the supposed future, has never, in all time, been looked upon complacently by the natural man. It was even so with him. "The dim Unknown"-"The un- discovered country from whose bourn no traveler re- turns,-puzzles the will." What noble lights in sci- ence and in arts-what bright constellations of worth and virtue-what resplendent luminaries of wisdom and of learning-what glorious youth and seraphic beauty, people that alleged "spirit land ;" and what rich voices stud those shadowy realms. Ruth, Debo- rah, and Mary; Sappho, the mother of the Gracchi, and the Queen of the South; creatures who were once the light, the grace, and beauty of our world are there, with Herodotus and Tacitus, Newton and Locke, Shaks- peare and Milton, Gibbon and Bacon.
And now another devoted worshiper at the altar of truth has passed forever hence, and, as we believe, has joined a pure and sacred band, the literati and the perfection of ages, whom he loved here so well, and had only gone before, to the Paradise of God. G.
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The following is a copy of a letter from my daugh- ter (now deceased), the late Mrs. Harriett L. Wells, wife of Abner Wells, of Southold. It was written to a friend, whom, with poignant sensations, she saw was in- dulging in a course of dissipation which had brought him on the edge of a precipice, over which the unre- claimed inebriate is assured certain to plunge into de- struction :-
SIR : Hoping you will calmly read these few lines, dictated by the purest motives, be the event what it may. An irresistible impulse prompts me to address you a fervent wish to snatch from destruction a person whom I should be pleased to address by the title of brother, if, by one effort of virtue, he should merit that sacred name. O, for a warning voice to touch the heart ; to open your eyes to see the misery and wretchedness which awaits you if you will not listen ! The wife of your bosom, your helpless infant-all, all must be sacrificed : your own happiness ultimately destroyed. Is the pleasure enjoyed in the inebri- ating draught sufficient to atone for a life of misery ? Ah ! the tears of bitterness shed by a broken-hearted wife. Where is domestic happiness when she sits by her unconscious infant boy, in fear and expectation of its father's return, excited by wine ? What are the caresses of such a husband and father? Be his good qualities what they may, they are sunk in the beast. Yes, worse ; for the brute is what God made it-but the worshiper of Bacchus destroys himself. He is unfit for the society of a virtuous woman ; his smiles and caresses are more repulsive than the maniac-often times quite as dangerous How common it is for the intoxicated man to commit acts of cruelty, or indiscretion, which he would otherwise revolt at! And must a tender, confiding wife and fa- mily be chained to such misery ?- one who has promised to be a guard and guide through and amidst the trials of life. Is this love for the wo- man who leaves the home of her youth, for whose sake she is willing to brave every ill but shame ? In this life, we must expect cares, and trials, and those of a female are peculiar A tender husband can only alleviate them
Family cares. Husbands and wives are under a sacred obliga- tion to bear each other's burdens. Age creeps on, and home is their all. There, alone, must center their joys and sorrows How does it look to see a wife and mother intemperate ? Wretched, you exclaim. It is but reversing the scene. Are the husband's feelings more delicate ? his heart
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more tender? Certainly not. With what emotions he will fly from the scene. On the other hand; see the weeping wife! There she sits, drowned in grief, watching o'er her babes, and hearing their complaints for care ;- yes, often for bread ! This is no fiction : for when a man is excited by liquor, no sacrifice is too great for him to make to his god.
Pardon me, if I probe the wound ; it is but to heal, and while I re- late those truths, I know there is yet a remedy in your power to avert the evil, and save yourself from ruin! The future and present happi- ness of a beloved sister, urges, constrains me to be thus explicit. Wretched girl ! if you, dear, deluded man, will not hear. She undone herself when she leapt the fatal precipice ! She madly thought your love for her would save yourself from ruin ; a year of misery has been her portion. She risked happiness on a fallacious hope. She is now about to leave her home-a home where she never knew real sorrow or want. It is in your power to smooth the path of her life ; begin anew. Talents and temperance, with industry, will secure a competency. I as- sure you, you will find peace in no other path. Had you, one year ago, attended to this suggestion, would you not now have been much hap- pier? The hearts of aged parents have been bleeding to see their daugh- ter's misery. Spare, oh, spare their grey hairs ! Touch not-handle not ; in your case, this only is safety.
You are now a father. If the prayers of friends, the agony of an af- fectionate wife, will not be heard, hear the moans of your infant son. When temptations assail you, think, oh ! think, soon he will lisp the name of father; soon, his expanded intellect will observe every action of his parent. O, let not his innocent cheek be made to mantle with a blush for a father's weakness !
For his sake, O, my friend, be master of yourself, and gain that greatest of victories by conquering those habits, which, to indulge, is sure ruin.
What shall I say more ? Angels will rejoice at such a conquest ; and if the spirits of the bless'd are admitted to increased joy for terrestrial beings, the happy spirit of your sainted mother will hover round you, and strike a higher note of praise for the redemption of her son ! And, what is more than all, the sweet peace of an approving conscience will be a solace which the world can neither give nor take away ; and, surely, it never can be found in the haunts of dissipation. Pray, O, pray to the Almighty for strength, and you will have the prayers of your well- wishers.
April 8, 1838.
HARRIET L. WELLS.
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OBSERVATIONS.
Poverty will stick to a man, when all mankind for- sake him.
If people could realize half their wishes, they would double their present troubles.
In all the affairs of human life, moderation, calmness, and decision of mind is true philosophy. Our energies will give way soon enough without any forced action.
A spirit of restlessness, discontent, and uneasiness, is truly a mark of unreasonable unreconciliation to the methods of a Divine Providence. I plead guilty. If my spirit is willing, my flesh is weak.
I have seen a mother open a letter, just received from an absent son, and peruse it, accompanied with tears, flowing from the joy received of a knowledge it gave of his welfare, good health, and love and care for her. After feasting on its contents, and wiping off the tears of a mother's tenderness, which none but a mother can know, she carefully folded the (to her) precious treasure, and placed it in her bosom, near her heart. What love !
That mother was my late wife, Mrs. Lucretia Griffin. There was a tenderness, a truthfulness, a surpassing moral beauty in that affectionate act, truly inexpressible.
That man-if there can be such a one-who can for- get such a mother; who can forget the sorrows and solicitudes which she has endured for him, and the les- sons of piety which she instilled into his young mind- such a man has sundered the last tie which binds him to virtue, and reasonable hope of rest or heaven.
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"Our fathers-where are they ?" and in a very few years, where shall we be? Ah! where are the millions whose voices were heard through the land, bustling, busy in ardent pursuit of the phantoms wealth, honor, fame, and the pleasures of a moment ? Alas! where are they ? Death has hushed their exulting tunes, and their monuments have crumbled under the footsteps of Time? Yes, and we are passing to the same silent shore.
Care and sorrow will attend the down-hill of life; they will cast their sombre shades upon us, and we must walk in their gloom down to the dreamless sleep of the grave.
My wife-my Lucretia ! Alas! she has gone ; gone forever! At twelve o'clock, M., on the 18th of May, 1849, the sun of my earthly consolations and expecta- tions set-set forever ! Oh, my riven heart ! alone-an isolated sojourner of more than four-score years !
You that have experienced such attachment, have possessed such a priceless jewel in all its purest perfec- tions, and have known and felt its irretrievable loss, are sensibly and solemnly acquainted with the poignant sensations of him who has experienced such cutting be- reavement. Earth, with all its productions, cannot heal the wound nor fill the void. A sharer in all my joys- a refreshment, soother, and ready partaker of all my cares and sorrows-a willing helper and sovereign balm for the accidents and disappointments which my life is heir to,-my peace and solace were interwoven with
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the nicest desires of her heart, for my prosperous chances and successful commerce in the world.
" And is it thus to live ? When such friends part, 'Tis the survivor dies. My heart no more."
Died, at Orient, on the 19th ult., Mrs. Lucretia Grif- fin, consort of Augustus Griffin, Esq., aged eighty years.
When a woman of singular worth departs this life, whose example may be a blessing to society, it becomes the duty of the moralist to portray her virtues, and res- cue her name from oblivion.
Mrs. Griffin was one of those few individuals who have left a character which should be held up as a model for those to imitate whose portion and trials may hereafter correspond with her own. The chief objects of her regard were her God and the happiness of the domestic circle. She was never led from the plain path of her duty to her family and her Creator, by the glitter of fashion or the glare of ostentation and pride; and if she had met with reverses-and although she had seen the playmates of her childhood and the companions of her youth lie scattered around her, like leaves torn from the tree of life, and she almost alone remaining-yet she bore all with meekness and resignation.
She had lost children, also, yet she murmured not under the bereavement. The secret of her tranquility of mind was hope-the hope of a blessed immortality after death ; this was the lever that buoyed up her soul under the pressure of affliction and sorrow. She always had a word of comfort for the distressed, and it appeared to be her chief happiness to console the unfortunate. She was a Christian, and she always spoke to her auditor of her faith and trust in her Redeemer.
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Her husband, the object of her youthful affection, still survives her, and has the inexpressible happiness of knowing no abatement in his attachment to her last hour. He attended her through a long and painful illness, with unfaltering fidelity and untiring assiduity ; and he often told the writer of this brief eulogy that he thought it more his duty to be her friend and protector then, than at any former period of his long and happy union with her ; indeed his solicitude to gratify her every want, and his pertinacity in assisting her in every wish, was the subject of universal remark and admiration.
Reader, forget not the virtues of the deceased, nor fail to imitate the constancy and devotion of the sur- vivor. JOHN O. TERRY.
Orient, May 28th, 1849.
ANECDOTE.
Many years ago there was a Baptist minister, strictly close-communion, named Catlin, who was noted as a revi- valist, and withal a very interesting preacher. At the time to which we refer, he had been laboring much to the pleasure as well as the profit of the people in the township of Southold, L. I. His fame, as a stirring preacher, soon reached the neighborhood of Upper Ac- quebogue, and an invitation was sent, from the Con- gregational Church in that place, to Elder C. to come ยท and preach for them. The invitation was cheerfully accepted, and many attended to the preaching of the Word. Elder C. became specially interested in one person whom he saw in the congregation, and that per- son was an aged man, trembling under the weight of 22*
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near ninety years, venerable in appearance, and highly regarded as a Christian of rare faith and piety. He was known as "Deacon Terry," and for many years was a member and an officer in that church.
Elder C. sought an introduction to this holy man of God, and despite the exclusiveness of "close commu- nion," soon entered into delightful spiritual commu- nings with the aged saint. Finally, he expressed his strong desire to have Deacon Terry visit him at his residence, some two hundred miles distant. The old Deacon, in reply, stated that much as it might gratify him to do so, the project would be alinost miraculous for one of his years and palsied condition ; "yet," said he, and looking archly at Elder C., " should I come, and get to your place about supper time, what then ?" El- der C. readily perceived the allusion, and said no more.
A letter wrote by widow Abigail Moore, of Southold. She was the mother of the celebrated John Ledyard. At the time Mrs. Moore wrote this letter, she was near eighty years of age. Rev. Mr. H- had just preach- ed a sermon, whose text was: "They went out from us, because they were not of us." This discourse, from a Presbyterian, was considered as pointed at the Me- thodist society in this vicinity. Mrs. Griffin, my wife, who was a member of the church of Upper Acque- bogue (Congregational), and cherished much tenderness and good will for the Methodists, as a people of true piety, was present. With a spirit of Christian humil- ty, she (Mrs. Griffin) addressed a letter to the Rev. Mr. H ---. It was written with great simplicity, and Scriptural truth of God's peculiar blessing resting on
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those examplary people. Rev. Mr. H- soon an- swered it : but not with that spirit of forbearance which bespeaks the exercise of the greatest of graces-char- ity. However, Mrs. Griffin felt Mr. H- to be a Christian, though, at the time, rather cold. Mrs. Moore wrote Mrs. Griffin to console and comfort her :-
MY DEAR YOUNG SISTER :- Hearing of a letter you have received from Rev. Mr. H-, let me comfort you under such reproaches, esteeming them greater riches than the treasures of Egypt. I believe you wrote from an honest heart, which will not condemn you in this world, nor that to come. I think the inquiry you made was proper, viz : " Who was, or were, the people you addressed ?" The context says-"Even now, there were many anti-Christs-including these that went out from us, because they were not of us." Doubtless, his pointed sermon was at the Methodists. As a fountain cannot send forth sweet water and bit- ter, our Savior says if they come in their own name, the world will re- ceive them ; but if they come in my name, they will not. But blessed are your eyes that see, and your ears that hear the joyful sound of the Gospel, not of the letter. Blessed be the Lord, I have heard able minis- ters of the New Testament-not of the letter, but of the spirit-by name, Methodist. My sheep know my voice. Haman, or the Spirit of the World, is yet living and complaining of a certain people, dispersed in the kingdom, and their laws diverse from all people; therefore, 'tis not for the King's profit to suffer them to live. Reproach them with the name of anti-Christ, en- thusiasts, false zeal, self-willed, high-minded. These reproaches I wear as a garment, with meekness, considering Him who endured the contra- diction of sinners against himself, lest we be weary and faint in our minds. I send the salutation of Elizabeth to Mary, to your mother Grif- fin, yourself, and all that know the joyful sound of the Gospel. Happy art thou, O, Israel. O, people loved of the Lord. The people shall dwell alone, and not be reckoned among the nations. How goodly are thy tents, O, Jacob. I often feel my soul and spirit salute the Methodist churches ; far abroad as the valleys are they spread forth -- as gardens by the river side-as trees which the Lord hath planted beside the waters.
Adieu, your friend, ABIGAIL MOORE.
1803.
The habit of sacrificing the substance of life for its
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follies and deceptions, is making rapid and alarming strides in our highly favored country. Thousands are aiming at greatness by unworthy efforts, and thousands are seeking wealth and happiness by dishonorable and unnatural means ; they find their mistake often too late. To make existence a source of enjoyment, we must not eat, utter, or do anything that can injure ourselves or hurt our neighbor.
Money making and fashionable amusements are pas- sions which agitate the present and rising generations to a fearful degree. Their consequences must be per- nicious to the morals, health, and peace of the commu- nity. Benevolent feeling gives place to moderation and propriety ; selfishness to excitement. To be called rich, seems the one thing needful. We have no time to think or mourn over the departure of a fellow-being, however worthy in life. The pursuit of gain or plea- sure occupies the minds of almost all of our hurrying, hasty, short-lived race.
It is pure and undefiled religion alone that can bind the passions, harmonize the elements of society, and render the obligations of mutual forbearance and love the abiding rules of action.
It was said by a wise man, viz .: "If there is one character more beautiful, more excellent, more noble than any other, it is respect shown to old age."
Age gathers up the sorrows and joys of a long life, and, when whitening for the tomb, is an object of sub- limity to the thinking man of sensibility. The passions have ceased; hope of self has ceased; they love the
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young ; they hope for the young; and oh, how careful should the young be to reward the aged. with their fresh, warm hearts, to diminish the chill of ebbing life in the old !
On a beautiful day, in the summer of 1796, while on a ramble of about a mile from my residence, I stopped at the house of Mr. Y., a gentleman of about twenty-six years, recently married to a fine woman, an only daugh- ter of a respectable farmer, who paid the most marked attention to the comforts and improvements of this, his interesting child.
Mr. Y. was what the Yankees call a likely man- handsome in person, features, figure, and address- well informed, mild, pleasing, and prepossessing in his manner, &c.
As observed, I called in; it was about noon, and the table was well furnished for dinner. Mr. and Mrs. Y. urged me to sit by and partake. After a few minutes at the table, with the most expressve silence, except their civilities to me, they simultaneously left the table ; she to one corner of the room, looking the true picture of deep, pungent melancholy ; he paced the floor, agi- tated, and looking unutterable things. Soon, with a desponding sigh, she gave vent to the throbbings of her overburdened soul, by asking him "how he could re- concile, with propriety, his conduct, as duty to his fam- ily, in staying out so late last night. Such inattention to her peace, in his keeping such late hours, and with amusements and companions strangers to moral recti- tude, would assuredly soon destroy her, while his ruin was certain to follow."
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He sharply replied, as under the influence of the last night's inebriating draught, "I shall do and act as I please ; and you, madam, will show your prudence by a respectable silence at this time." She, with sobs and tears, quickly replied, " that such a command to a wife bespoke the tyrant, heartless in all its bearings." At this he turned short about, to appearance in great wrath, and said, " If you make another, a single observation, I will horsewhip such impudence !"
With a dignity and self-respect becoming a virtuous woman, she instantly replied, "that such language and threats would better become a savage, and were only in keeping with the lowest vestiges of society, and the sooner she was rid of such a disgrace to humanity the better." At this he seized his silver-mounted riding whip, which he applied with much seeming earnestness, striking at the lower part of her garments, where I pre- sume not a stroke injured any part of her body. The astonishing application gave almost a mortal wound to the sensibility of Mrs. Y. Immediately after, he mounted his horse and rode off. She, drowned in tears, and sob- bing, turned to me, saying with emphasis, " Mr. Griffin, you have been witness to an act of my husband, which must be seen to be believed. Nothing but the fruits of the wine cup could have brought him to such de- gradation and brutality. Alas ! I must leave him ! Yes, leave him forever !" With that, she set about packing up her movables, to be off on the morrow.
But behold the mutability of all sublunary resolves ! In the brief space of two short days, while out on a morning walk, I was so happy as to meet and receive the smiling salutations of this same couple, in an early
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ride, enjoying the full tide of successful and conjugal love. She was arrayed with much taste, in a new, rich silk dress, with other costly appendages, calculated to make her appear as when he kept rational hours, and discarded the accursed cup.
A few short years after this event, Mr. Y. fell a vic- tim to the assured fate of the inebriate and haunters of the abodes of dissipation. In not more than four years, his handsome property, his flush of health, and mortal existence became extinct.
MOTHER.
While a man's mother lives, he will have one friend on earth who will not desert him when he is ready to despair.
Her affection flows from a pure fountain, and ceases only at the ocean of eternity.
A correct copy of a letter from my daughter, Har- riet Lucretia, written at the age of seven years, while at school at Sterling, to her mother :-
STERLING, 1801.
MY DEAR PARENTS :- I think we ought to make use of every moral whereby our minds may be improved, for which purpose, let us make use of Winter.
Winter is the most unpleasant of all the seasons of the year, and may put us in mind of the state of man after death. For, lo ! dead silence reigns through the works of Nature. The trees are stripped of their leaves ; the grass that was so green, is dead ; and no violets, nor delight- ful flowers, are to be seen. The ground is white with snow, and all around looks cold and dreary.
Accept this, dear Mother, from your dutiful child,
HARRIET L. GRIFFIN, Mrs. Lucretia Griffin.
The above is a copy taken from the original.
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ALONE.
The soft air of Summer breathes in at the open win- dow. It whispers of voices a short time since hushed in death, and speaks of friendships forever broken on earth.
My fondest hopes perished the moment her holy spirit passed away. The relentless hand of Death has plucked the fairest flower from my Garden of Life. In comparison with the loss of the wife of my youth, all other bereavements are trifling. Bitter, bitter is the tear that falls upon her cold clay.
Setting sun, which precedes the shades of evening, remind me that the day of life is past. I have outlived its fleeting pleasures ; its struggles ; its anxieties. . Its many sorrows and weighty cares, one by one, are now going out. I am fast sinking to that dreamless rest from which none awake until the resurrection morn shall open on the renovated millions of millions of ge- nerations.
What phantoms I have pursued ! I am now a trem- bling relic of bygone years, on the verge of an unac- countable existence.
Among the many admirable sayings of Cicero, are these memorable words: "Since all sublunary things are frail and fading, what can we do better than to seek out some honest man whom we may love, and by whom we may be beloved? For, taking away this benevo- lence, this kind and familiar way of living with each other, what would there remain desirable in life ?" I think I have once read somewhere that the Egyptians used to represent friendship by the figure of a young
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man, bare-headed, in a plain garment, on the edge of which was written, " mors vita" (life and death) ; across the forehead, "estas et hyems" (winter and summer.) His fore-finger stood pointing to his heart, which was visible ; above which was "long et prope" (far and near.)
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