USA > New York > Onondaga County > Pompey > Re-union of the sons and daughters of the old town of Pompey > Part 9
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The fact that Delphi quietly submits to all this, convinces me that the old village has greatly changed since the days when we demanded for the Hollow its fair share of all the town offices, down even to the sealer of weights and meas- ures, and would under no circumstances consent to the hold- ing of a town meeting at any point west of the Corners. The Hollow must have been " re-constructed" since my day, or this re-union would not have heen held on the hill with- out a terrible struggle. However, if Delphi ean stand it, I can, and I sincerely hope all your pleasant anticipations con- nected with this meeting will be realized, and that the re- union will result in renewing and strengthening the attach- ments of all present to our noble old town.
Very Truly Yours, H. W. SLOCUM.
ENDICOTT & CO LITH N Y
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PRATTSBURGH, June 23d, 1871.
Mr. Richard F. Stevens.
SIR :- I have just received your circular inviting me to a re- union at Pompey Hill, on the 29th inst., I regret that cir- cumstances will prevent my attendance. Age alone would render it difficult, as I was 86 years old in April last. It would be extremely gratifying to have an interview with many friends who may be there present. In addition to the associations of a former residence, it may be said, that the place has a most salubrious air, and is richly worth a visit for- a view of its far-stretching landscape. Memory recalls the list of strong men who have resided there; and from time to time have officiated in our National and State councils. On this topic, the limits prescribed to this note forbid my expatiating. As I cannot be a participant in the approach- ing
" Feast of reason and the flow of soul,"
I must content myself with the hope that we may all finally meet in that higher and better world where our re-union will be perpetual, and our happiness without alloy.
I am, very respectfully Yours,
R. S. ORVIS.
SYRACUSE, June 19, 1871. Dr. R. F. Stevens.
DEAR SIR :- An invitation to attend a re-union of the old residents of Pompey came to me a few days since-A " re- union of the old residents of Pompey !" I read that sentence with many a heartfelt throb, for
"They are not all here Some are away The dead ones dear !"
From off my family altar nearly every flower hath withered, faded and died. Gone from us in early life ! But one (and he far away in a western home,) is left me of my once joy- ous home-circle. Oh! not for me is that re-union ! Too
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many sad memories of the past cluster around that dear old " hill-side home."
The grass hath grown green and long upon the eloquent dumb mounds, where sleep my dead ! Can I go up to the re-union ? There will be the school-mates of my girlhood. The teachers I both loved and feared in childhood. The friends of later years, my father's and my mother's friends. All will be there ! Shall I too go ? Yes! I will take the dear ones " God hath given me," and climb those hills "sublime and glorious still," Up! up ! to the "re-union," and for one day I will strive to prove in social greetings that " clouds have their silver linings," and after storms, comes ever the bright sunshine.
Yours, in hopes of a blessed re-union, " Up Higher,"
ESTHER A. CLAPP DORWIN.
SYRACUSE, July, 1871. Dr. R. F. Sterens.
DEAR SIR :- For us the "glorious re-union at old Pompey" hath come and gone, but the memory of that day can never pass away-with us it liveth forever! Like the sunny dreams of childhood. its memory will brighten our future pilgrimage down the shady slope of life ; it revived old memories long since dead; it taught us, though we had years ago learned, that life was "real and earnest," that there was still left for us much of love, of poetry and senti- ment.
There old friends, and perchance old lovers met, and as they grasped the hand the "light of other days" beamed from the eye, and the eager " God bless you ! are you here ?" was not a studied expression, but an outburst from the abun- dance of the heart. What if the brown hair of the one was threaded with silver, and the jetty locks of the other grown thin and grey ? What if the voice once so musical had ac- quired, by contact with the world, a harsh note, and the bright eye become less bright ? Did we note these changes ?
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Ah, no! the heart was young again, and the expressions “I know you! how little you have changed !" were heartfelt, no matter if our mirrors at home told a different tale, and after this, how proud we were to say to such a friend, "this is my son," as we presented our noble, stalwart boy, or, this my daughter, as we led up our girl, just blushing into womanhood.
Proud day for ancient Pompey ! Proud day for fathers and mothers! for young and old-proud day for all! And yet with all the pride and joy of the occasion, there were sad hearts there, hearts desolate of love; hearts which amid all these fond greetings continually cried out "where is my father, my mother, brother or sister?" Kindred and friends were around them, but those loved first and best, were gone. A green spot in the church yard answered the wailing heart, gone home ! Safely housed from wind and storm! A fam- ily around the Great White Throne ! Would you wish them back to-day?
You, my friend, visited the home of your fathers; I went to mine beneath the hills, the home of my grand-sire, my father, and the home where my childhood flitted by. Thirty- five years ago its halls echoed to the tread of fond parents, and the tiny feet of children. There the treble of my fair haired foster sister, the rich tenor of my gentle mother's voice, the second of my loved elder brother, my noble father's bass, with the accompaniment of cousin Charlie's viol, floated at eventide among the hills, while Willie and "Sis" and I frolieked upon the grass or climbed the stately Balm of Gilead at our door. Now what a change ! The echoing halls resound to the step of the sons and daughters of the "Emerald Isle," and our fathers, where are they ? The little red school house on the green still reared its head in humble pride, as in years gone by; it looked to me smaller than when I there stood up at spelling, and battled for the "head;" and, to, its sombre sides had taken on a shade of brown; but as I looked at its high windows, out of which I had slily peeped many a time, and its quaint old
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benches and desks, bearing many a mark of mischievous girls and boys, and saw my own name rudely cut with the knife of one of my boy lovers, I knew it was the same dear old school house; every bench and desk seemed to tell a tale of school girl's joys and sorrows, of school mates and masters gone; for
"None were there to greet me now, And few were left to know, That played with me upon the green Full forty years ago."
There, to, stood the old elm tree upon the corner; though shorn of much of its original beanty and grandeur, it still spread its gnarled branches far and wide, showing how nobly it had braved the fury of "Old Pompey's" winds for centuries. Beneath its cool shades I remember sleeping, and dreaming such dreams as come to us but once, and that in our sinless, happy childhood. I remember standing on tip-toe and spelling out the bills which told of the wonder- ful things to be found in the city of salt, for the old tree was used as a bulletin board in those days by the agents of the merchants of the infant city of Syracuse.
The ancient Columbia Poplars too, were there near by ; which seventy years ago shaded the house of my grand-father.
How familiar they looked, tall and straight, their dark leaves whispering as they did years ago. Many a whip I have cut from their leafy sides, with which to urge on my "Arabian Steeds," which so often in those days bore me "o'er the hills and far away !"
But do you know Doctor, how sadly I missed the dear old country church ? How desolate the green looked without it ? for it had been borne away, as a store house, for a thrif- ty farmer; who instead of " pulling down the old and building greater" chose rather to take the old church, with its ample dimensions ; and now in place of the voice of prayer. we daily hear the cooing of dores from its high dome. Fond- ly and tenderly, do I remember the church of my early love ; when first my infant lips learned to join in the Response the
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devout Litany and prayer. There, too, when but a child I took the solemn vows of confirmation; promising to love God and keep my spirit " free from earth-taint." Still do I. feel the kindly pressure of the good Bishop's hands upon iny head ; and hear the aecents of his gentle voice ;
" When he spoke, what tender words he used, So softly that like flakes of feathered snow They melted as they fell."
I was but a light-hearted child then of thirteen, and long years have passed since the echo of that good man's voiec died away in that dim old country church ; and he with many of my loved ones "rests from his labors."
Ah ! Dr. it is good for us to live over the past, as we did on that never to be forgotten day! We shall ever look back upon it as a " bright green spot in the desert sands of life !" We will remember it ever, and teach our children to echo the cry which daily goes up from our hearts. Thank God for the Re-union.
Yours, very Truly, ESTHER A. CLAPP DORWIN.
MANTORVILLE, MINN., June 23d, 1871. Dr. R. F. Stevens :-
Your favor, inviting us to attend a re-union of the former residents of the old town of Pompey, has been received, and has awakened many thoughts of the "Auld Lang Syne." Again and again, through all the " halls of memory," have been stirred anew the long-slumbering echoes of the past. Half forgotten forms have reappeared with sharper outlines and more than usual distinctness, claiming former apprecia- tion. Few things would be more gratifying to us than to meet and greet once more the many surviving friends of "long ago" on the grand old hills of Pompey; but growing infirmities, a long and wearisome journey, with other rea- sons, will compel us to forego the pleasure. But we shall be with you in spirit and measurably share the festive joy of
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your gathering. And should any there still kindly remem- ber "Jared " and " Miss Rowena," and enquire of our well- fare and whereabouts, please tell them that we now hail from the "Land of the Dakotas," just over the eastern line of what we here call the "West," alias Minnesota : and like many who were young when we left our native hills, are far in the " sear and yellow leaf." Our lot has been cast among the Pioneers of the West. Left the " Hills" when the first railroad pointing westward was being built, from Utica to Auburn. Found Milwaukie a small village. Preached the first sermon ever preached in Madison, the Capitol of Wis- consin, standing behind a dry goods box covered with an Indian blanket, in the upper story of a store, the best meet- ing house the place could afford. Now it is a beautiful and proud city, full of churches and elegant public buildings. and the whole country, a few years since the home of a few filthy Pottawatomies, Menominies and Winnebagoes, now blossoms out with cities, villages, and homes of culture and refinement. The Indian trails, once the only guide to the Wisconsin pioneer, have given place to a net-work of rail- roads, which bear along their iron traceways the burden of a great and growing commerce. All these changes have we witnessed within the last thirty-five years. The last five years have been spent in Minnesota. This State. twenty years ago, had but a few hundred inhabitants. Now her population of half a million can take excursions on a thousand miles of her railroads; and as they witness the rapid movements in building the N. P. Railroad, some fancy they can almost hear the thunder of the iron horses from Puget Sound, as they rush over the mountains, bringing the commerce of China with them, and gathering up, as they course the great Plains, the products of a thousand indus- tries already being opened up from a territory large enough to make twelve or fifteen States as large and as good as New York.
Our three score years and ten are nearly filled; but with such a western experience, and such an outlook still westward,
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our old friends will not think hard of us if we express a will- ingness to live a few years longer to see what we may see in the West.
I can but think your gathering will make a proud day for Pompey, and that you will realize, as never before, that your town has furnished her full average of notables, and that the old Academy, and olden churches, (however imperfect in their workings,) have had much to do in moulding the char- acter and in shaping the destiny of those that meet in your union.
Could I have the pleasure of meeting the multitude that will gather at your union, and hear recalled the names of others that have passed behind the vail, I would gladly re- call the memory of one, now perhaps half forgotten by the older inhabitants, and entirely unknown to the new. I re- fer to Theodore E. Clarke. His life was scarcely considered a success, even by his best friends. His powers were too restive to be curbed down to those pursuits necessary to give success. But among the long list of gifted minds Pompey has produced, I have long regarded Theodore's as the tallest of them all. For pure intellection, for logical acumen, for profound abstract thought, for far-reaching and compre- hensive views, for bold excursions into the unknown in search of hypothesis to explain known facts, he probably had few equals in this or any other country-in this or any other age. But he passed away in middle life, comparative- ly unknown, and has gone where thinking is a business and profound logic appreciated.
Through you we would send our kindest greetings to old friends, hoping that the renewal of old acquaintances-the stirring memories that will be awakened there-the lessons of instruction that will be suggested by the occasion-will better qualify for a grander, nobler and enduring re-union beyond the River.
We hope to meet you on the other shore.
Yours, in memory of past, JARED F. OSTRANDER. 8
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MANTORVILLE, MINN., Ang. 29th, 1871.
Dr. R. F. Sterens.
DEAR SIR :- Your request for a few items from my pen shall be cordially complied with. The grand gathering of the scattered sons and daughters of Pompey, on the 29th of June, is an era in the history of that place. The friendly meetings and greetings of those who came back to the homes of "other days"-the reminiscences awakened-the long past brought back with its memories of sadness and of glad- . ness-all conspire to invest the day with an interest which will live when other days are forgotten. Thanks for the papers sent, giving an account of the doings and sayings of that day, that grand event, in which it was my misfortune not to participate, has, nevertheless, more than any other of my life, stirred up memories of the past, brightened up scenes of my childhood and youth, until they seem but a little ways back in the dim distance, although my three score and ten years are nearly told. The schools of Pompey Hill are among my earliest recollections. The one taught in the school house, near D. Kellogg's residence, I attended and remember-the teacher, I think, was Leman Pitcher. The house was used for meetings on the Sabbath, and the Rev. Mr. Wallace was the minister. The desk used as a pulpit was sometimes, also, used to shut up naughty scholars in. One day Hugh Wallace, the minister's son, was sent there for some misdemeanor, and after looking around to. view the situation, exclaimed : "I don't want to be shut up in father's pig pen." After my father removed to his " wilderness home," half a mile east of the Academy, it was my lot, with sister Chloe, to go to school through the woods by marked trees, with only a faint toot-path that led to the hill. One morning, as we were leisurely wending our way to school with our dinner bag and books, we heard a terri- ble crash in the bushes near us. We halted, and on turning around saw a big black animal near the path, sitting on his haunches and looking at us. As we had not been fright- ened with stories of bears, we had no fears. We stood
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facing the animal and wondering what it might be, until Bruin, not being in want of a breakfast, or taking pity on us poor, unprotected children, walked majestically away, leaving us to pursue our course. On telling of our advent- ure to the scholars, and they to the teacher, quite an excite- ment was produced ; and our return home after school was guarded by two or three big boys, around the road, nearly a mile and a half. We were not allowed to tread that path . alone again.
You ask me to say something of the schools I taught. My first attempt at teaching was in the chamber of your father's house. You probably recollect it, for there you learned your "A, Be, Abs." Mrs. Miller, in her address, al- luded to that school, though I think she must have been too young to have been a pupil. It was forty-eight years ago this summer. I remember the circumstance to which she alluded. It occurred in this wise: Her sister Ellen was wanting a "copy set," as we then termed it, and I was obliged, while writing, to turn my back to the school. It has always been my impression that it was James Beebe, a cousin of Mrs. M.'s, who called out-" Miss Rowena, mayn't David (not Dan.) Porter turn his face this way ?" Without stopping writing, I said : "Yes, David, turn around." "I don't want to," said he, "for James wants to spit in my face." By this time I was ready to attend to matters. One of the Birdseye boys, (Eben,) in that same school, was, one day, for playing truant, compelled to stand in the middle of the room and study his lesson. This he did with unusual energy and application. Looking off his book, he said : " Miss Rowena, do bears have chickens ?" This called out a burst of laughter from teacher and pupils, and he was sent to his seat without any new light on the subject of natural history.
This school was succeeded by one taught the next Sum- mer, in the house near the Academy; then occupied by David Hines. After that I taught five terms in the School- house then standing near the spot now occupied by the new
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church. The path of life has led me far away from those scenes of labor, and of interest ; but I have ever looked back to them as among the pleasantest of my life ; and with very kindly feelings towards all those who were my pupils. Among them I saw the names of ten or more, who were to be present at the gathering on the Hill, and I felt an honest pride in the thought, that perhaps my feeble endeavors were not all lost. It has always given me pleasure to hear of the welfare of my pupils, and have ever sorrowed with them, when hearing of their afflictions. I have ever regretted that in my occasional visits to the home of my early life, I met so few of them. They were scattered here and there, and some were sleeping their last sleep. On a visit to the ceme- tery in Pompey, sixteen years ago, I counted sixteen stones erected to the memory of those who were my pupils. In other lands some have found their last resting-place, and perhaps some repose on the battle-fields of our late distract- ed and bleeding country. I regret that Grace Greenwood was not with you in the re-union, to add to the interest with her poetical talent. She, too, learned from me her alphabet, and "a, be, abs." A few years ago, I received a letter from her with a graceful acknowledgement of my endeavors to instil into her young mind the first rudiments of knowledge, and start her on her literary career. I do not forget among my hundreds of pupils, the three brothers, William, Charles and Richard Stevens, who were some of the first on whom to try my hand at teaching. Especially the latter, a feeble little boy, who had so much of my sympathy, that he was left to "run loose," and awakened the envy of the others for my partiality.
Yours, Respectfully, ROWENA M. OSTRANDER.
Perhaps you will deem me intrusive, but I will venture to make a few more suggestions; altho' others may do the same. You may cast mine aside, if so, as though they were not made. Pompey, will after this, gain a new celebrity.
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Perhaps very few dreamed of the great wealth of intellect and influence, that has gone out from that town, to enrich the world. Besides the notables mentioned in connection with the grand re-union, there are others, who are entitled to a remembrance, among the great and good of Pompey's sons and daughters. They are found in all the professions, in all the walks of usefulness. Many* are the ministers of the gospel of peace, who have gone, here and there, some to the privations and hardships of our western land, and some to carry the gospel to the heathen. Two, certainly, were Pompey's children. Artemas Bishop, who, some now living, will remember, left the grand old hills, and the home of his childhood and youth, to preach "Jesus and the resurrection," to the far-off islands of the sea. It was, I think, in 1821, he sailed from Boston for the Sandwich Isl- ands. Mrs. Julia A. (Ostrander) Crane, sailed from the same port, in 1836, as a missionary to the benighted Hin- doos. The year before, (1835.) Mrs. Theresa Patten Howard left her home and friends, to labor as a missionary in Bur- malı.
Among the earlier teachers in Pompey, who deserve a passing notice, at least, were the Rev. Eli Burchard, J. J. Deming, and Miss Upham. Among the many names that will pass into oblivion, I would snatch two which might have been ennobled upon the annals of literary fame, had not death interposed. Almira Campbell and Adelaide Delia Clarke, sister to Grace Greenwood. But few ever knew of the wealth of intellect hidden away in these young minds. I possess a few poems of the former, written between the ages of fourteen and twenty, which show more than ordina- ry perception of the beautiful and the true, even in older persons; and her letters, a maturity of thought and judg- ment far above her years. I cannot forbear quoting from her obituary notice written by Seabred Dodge. for the On- ondaga Journal. " She was a young lady of distinguished accomplishments and virtues. She possessed a mind well
*Perhaps, I am mistaken in the many.
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stored with useful knowledge. She courted not the society of the gay and thoughtless; unassuming in her manners. she made no pompous display of her mind, conscious that the great and majestic river makes its way in silence to the ocean ; it is the little rill that froths and frets as it rolls. "As pure her life, its close as calm, as bright, as moonbeams radiant with their softest light; as whispering winds or shades which twilight throws, peaceful she sunk, in nature's last repose." She died in 1823, in the twenty-third year of her age.
R. M. OSTRANDER.
Mr. Richard F. Stevens, Cor. Sec'y of the " Re-union at Home," and Gentlemen, committee of invitation.
SIRS :- "When silent time wee lightly foot had trod on thirty years," I find myself honored by an invitation from you to join with the friends of other days in a social and friendly re-union to be held at Pompey Hill on the 29th inst.
Gentlemen, I should be very glad to be able to mingle with you on that day ; but I regret to say that the sore afflic- tion of inflamatory rheumatism forbids my attendance, and I fear that I shall be doomed to my chamber. However, I shall be with you in spirit, and in fancy shall enjoy the re- fining pleasures to be derived from the humanizing emana- tions that will flow from the poets, orators and large hearted, who will assemble together on the appointed day to join in the mutual and agreeable essay of reviving the joys and pleasures of Anld Lang Syne.
Praying that pleasant weather and all things auspicious may be vouchsafed to you all, I am fraternally yours, &c., &c.
SANFORD THAYER.
Syracuse, June 26, 1871.
BURLINGTON, Iowa, June 16, 1871. My Dear Sir :-
Your favor of the 12th instant, enclosing an invitation to
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the Pompey re-union on the 29th, is just received. It would afford me the highest gratification to join in that jubilee, but other engagements will probably prevent. But in com- pliance with your alternative request, I take occasion to ex- press some of the reflections and reminiscences which the occasion elicits.
It calls up the past with all of its hopes and anxieties and' vicissitudes. The panorama of a life time stands unveiled before me ; I watch its dissolving views as they follow each other in quick succession on the curtain of memory. The child whose wondering gaze at first scanned the blue dome of Heaven, supposing it to shut down at equal distances on all sides of his humble house, and who hardly attempted to speculate as to what was beyond, changes in rapid gradation to the boy, the youth, the man-all the while enlarging the scope of his knowledge, but finding the suggested unknown, to increase in perhaps still greater proportion, until with whitening locks he looks forward to the limitless future and backward to the equally limitless past, and all around to the infinitudes of space, and forms perhaps just as inade- quate and erroneous notions as to what is beyond the scope of his enlarged but still narrow comprehension as had been those of any previous period. When I had mastered my first exercise in arithmetic, I was in my own estimation much nearer the ultima thule of mathematical knowledge than I have ever found myself since, and never did I feel myself so far from home as when I was first at Green's corners, though then but one mile distant from the paternal roof.
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