History of Wayne, Pike, and Monroe counties, Pennsylvania, Part 68

Author: Mathews, Alfred, 1852-1904. 4n
Publication date: 1886
Publisher: Philadelphia : R.T. Peck & Co.
Number of Pages: 1438

USA > Pennsylvania > Monroe County > History of Wayne, Pike, and Monroe counties, Pennsylvania > Part 68
USA > Pennsylvania > Pike County > History of Wayne, Pike, and Monroe counties, Pennsylvania > Part 68
USA > Pennsylvania > Wayne County > History of Wayne, Pike, and Monroe counties, Pennsylvania > Part 68

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WAYNE, PIKE AND MONROE COUNTIES, PENNSYLVANIA.

which we reproducc. It is to be regretted that nothing of interest can be learned of this writer, for a few facts concerning one who can write such meritorious verse as " The Hills of Wayne" should be preserved among the people of the county she has expressed such love for.

Most widely and well known among the wri- ters who are natives of Wayne County is Homer Greene, Esq., the author of " What my Lover Said," " My Daughter Lonise," "Kitty," and many other poems, and of the very realistic and touching story of "Dick, the Door Boy,"-an episode of life in the anthracite coal region-the prize story of the Scranton Truth, published in its issue of Christmas, 1884. This is the chief example of Mr. Greene's ability in prose com- position, and notable as its merits are, it cannot be regarded as testifying so strongly to his genius as do his poems. These have already won for him no small measure of fame, and must constantly bring more, for no fugitive poems have more constantly oceupied the news- paper corners, and appealed stronger either to the popular heart or critical brain than have " What my Lover Said " and two or three others of his productions. They are chaste and dainty in diction, delicate and subtle-the very essence of poetry. We reproduce them further on in these pages, and give here a brief bio- graphical sketch of the author.

HOMER GREENE was born at No. 19, in Sa- lem township (now Ariel, in Lake township), Wayne County, January 10, 1853. He attended the district school until thirteen years of age, and in the spring of 1867 went to Poughkeep- sie, N. Y., to attend the Riverview Military Academy, and remained there two years, hold- ing a position both years in the " honor grade " among the first three. In the summer of 1869, he entered the corps of civil and mining engi- neers of the Pennsylvania Coal Company, with headquarters at Pittston, Pa. He remained there until the winter of 1871-72, doing land surveying, railroad engineering, mining engi- ncering and drafting.

In the spring of 1872 he entered the engi- neering class of '74 at Union College, Schenec- tady, N. Y., and was graduated with the degree of C.E. in the spring of 1874, and immediately

entered the class of '76 for the purpose of com- pleting a four years' course in the Scientific Department; was graduated in June, 1876, with the degree of A.B. At graduation he took the first Blatchford prize medal for oratory, the first Clarke prize, the first president's prize and the second Ingham prize for essays on literary subjects. In the fall of 1876 he went on the " stump " in Wayne County for the Republi- can Presidential ticket.

In November, 1876, he entered the Albany Law School and was graduated therefrom with the degree of LL.B. in 1877, and admitted to practice in the Supreme Court of the State of New York. In the fall of 1877 he began a course of study under H. M. Seely, Esq., at Honesdale, and was admitted to practice in the court of Wayne County at December Term, 1879. In 1881 he was elected district attorney on the Republican ticket by a majority of sev- enty-eight, the Democratic majority for State officers the same year being over five hundred, and all other Republican candidates for county offices being defeated.

His first literary effort was a story entitled " The Mad Skater " published in Mayne Reid's magazine Onward for June, 1869. While at college he was correspondent for the New York Evening Post, Albany Evening Journal, Albany Argus and Troy Whig. He has con- tributed in poetry and prose to the New York Evening Post, Christian Union, The Continent, Lippincott's Magazine and The Critic.

Mr. Greene was married September 20, 1883, to Matilda E. Gilbert, who died August 22, 1884. On the 30th of June, 1886, he was married to Miss Catharine F. Gaines, of Albany, N. Y.

EMMA MAY BUCKINGHAM was born in Paupack, Wayne County, Pa. She early evinced a desire for an education, studied faith- fully at home and in the district school, and, after teaching a select school in Salem (now Lake township) for a year, entered Wyoming Semi- nary in 1855. She graduated at the close of her second year.

Another year was occupied in study in Fair Haven Seminary, New Haven, Conn., in art studies, which were continued a year longer in Wyoming Seminary, at Kingston, Pa.

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In 1860 she accepted a situation in the Ha- zelton (Pa.) graded school, where she remained seven years, when ill health induced her to re- sign her position. She subsequently taught in the city of Scranton, in Westbrook Academy, Connecticut, and also in the Honesdale graded school-three years each in the last two places.

While teaching in Honesdale she completed her first book, entitled " A Self-Made Woman ; or, Mary Idyl's Trials and Triumphs," a work of three hundred and forty-three pages, which was published by the firm of S. R. Wells, now Fowler & Wells, of 753 Broadway, New York. The first edition was issued during the winter of 1874, and before the close of that year it reached its third edition, and a seventh edition will soon be printed. The book was very fa- vorably received, both by the press and public.

In 1877 her second book, a poetical romance entitled "Pearl : a Centennial Poem," was issued by the same publishers. It was very favorably received, and a third edition is already needed. The notices of the press were kind and compli- mentary without an exception. A miscellaneous collection of poems, for a companion volume to " Pearl," was published by S. R. Wells & Co. in 1878. It is named after its leading poem "The Silver Chalice," and contains eighty pages. It also received a very wide, as well as flattering, notice from the press throughout the United States, and has reached its third edition.

Miss Buckingliam's fourth book, a seaside story, " Parson Thorne's Trial," was published in 1880 by George W. Carleton & Co., of Madison Square, New York. This work con- tains three hundred and sixty-four pages. It is the authoress' favorite of all her printed com- positions, and, like her other works, although wearing the garb of fiction (as far as names of characters and places are concerned), is drawn mainly from real life and actual circumstances. This book was popular from the first. The notiecs and reviews from the American press, as well as the press of Great Britain,-for " Parson Thorne's Trial " was published also by S. Lowe & Co., in London, England,-were exceedingly favorable. This book has also reached several editions. We copy the following extracts from the National Press .- ED.

A temperance poem entitled "Am I My Brother's Keeper ?" will soon be issued in pam- phlet form for the benefit of the Wayne County temperance work, and the author is at present engaged on a new work entitled " Lilian : A Sequel to ' A Self-Made Woman.'"

Emma May Buckingham is a contributor to the Pennsylvania School Journal, the New York Phrenological Journal, The Wayne Independent, as well as many popular magazines and period- icals. She has won a reputation as an essayist on æsthetic educational matters, moral culture and temperance reform.

The subject of the above sketch resides with her widowed mother in Hamlinton, Wayne County, Pa. Her ambition is to do better work in the future, to win a reputation as an American writer of both prose and poetry.

Other than these writers of whom more or less extended mention has been made, there are several others, who, if not natives of Wayne County, have been of its people and well known among then.

L. Carroll Judson, author of " Lives of the Signers of the Declaration " and " the Moral Probe," was an early settler in Bethany, and for a number of years principal of the academy there. His son, the well known Col. E. Z. C. Judson, the well-known story writer, spent his youth in Bethany.

Belinda Cramer was for several years a fre- quent contributor of verse to the local papers and sometimes to the metropolitan press and magazines.

" Lucy Linden," or Mrs. Dr. W. W. Sanger, for a number of years a resident of Honesdale, was a prolific and meritorious writer of both prose and versc.

Rev. Henry A. Rowland, long time pastor of the Honesdale Presbyterian Church, was the author of two popular religious works, "Light in a Dark Alley " and " The Way of Pcacc."

Harrison Gray Otis, Jr., of Boston (a grand- son of James Otis, of Revolutionary fame), who long made his summer home in a rambling old house, still standing, in Bethany, was a very frequent contributor to the Wayne County Her- ald, under the nom de plume of "Sito,"-a re- i version of Otis.

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Marshall Wheeler (now of Warren, Pa.), while in Wayne County, wrote "The Lost Hunter Found," and "My Ada."

M. H. Cobb, now of the Philadelphia Mint, and formerly editor of the New Dawn, at Honesdale, wrote considerably in verse while here, and so also did D. W. Belisle, now of the Camden (N. J.) Democrat, and so also did J. Willis Westlake (now a professor in the State Normal School at Millersville) when he lived a few years ago at Seelyville.

Appended are poems by Homer Greene, Mary Ashby Townsend and Harriet Watres (nee Hollister) or "Stella of Lackawanna." Of Mr. Ham's verse two examples have already been given.

WHAT MY LOVER SAID.

HOMER GREENE.

By the merest chance, in the twilight gloom, In the orchard path he met me ; In the tall, wet grass, with its faint perfume, And I tried to pass, but he made no room, Oh I tried, but he would not let me. So I stood and blushed till the grass grew red, With my face bent down above it, While he took my hand as he whispering said- (How the clover lifted each pink, sweet head, To listen to all that my lover said; Oh, the clover in bloom, I love it !)

In the high, wct grass went the path to hide, And the low, wet leaves hung over ; But I could not pass upon either side, For I found myself, when I vainly tried, In the arms of my steadfast lover. And he held me there and he raised my head, While he closed the path before me. And he looked down into my eyes and said- (How the leaves bent down from the boughs o'cr head, To listen to all that my lover said. Oh, the leaves hanging lowly o'er me !)

Had he moved aside but a little way, I could surely then have passed him ; And he knew I never could wish to stay, And would not have heard what he had to say, Could I only aside have cast him. It was almost dark, and the moments sped, And the searching night-wind found us, But he drew me nearer and softly said --- (How the pure, sweet wind grew still, instead, To listen to all that my lover said ; Oh, the whispering wind around us !)

I am sure he knew when he held me fast, That I must be all unwilling ; For I tried to go, and I would have passed, As the night was come with its dew, at last, And the sky with its stars was filling. But he clasped me close when I would have fled, And he made mc hear his story, And his soul came out from his lips and said- (How the stars crept out where the white moon led, To listen to all that my lover said ; Oh, the moon and the stars in glory !)

I know that the grass and the leaves will not tell. Aud I'm sure that the wind, precious rover; Will carry my secret so safely and well That no being shall ever discover One word of the many that rapidly fell From the soul-speaking lips of my lover ; And the moon and the stars that looked over Shall never reveal what a fairy-like spell They wove round about us that night in the dell, In the path through the dew-laden clover, Nor echo the whispers that made my heart swell As they fell from the lips of my lover.

MY DAUGHTER LOUISE. HOMER GREENE.

In the light of the moon, by the side of the water, My seat on the sand and her seat on my knees, We watch the bright billows do I and my daughter, My sweet little daughter Louise. We wonder what city the pathway of glory, That broadens away to the limitless west,

Leads up to-she minds her of some pretty story And says : "To the city that mortals love best." Then I say : "It must lead to the far-away city, The beautiful City of Rest."

In the light of the moon, by the side of the water, Stand two in the shadow of whispering trees, And one loves my daughter, my beautiful daughter, My womanly daughter Louise.

She steps to the boat with a touch of his fingers, And out on the diamondcd pathway they move; The shallop is lost in the distance, it lingers, It waits, but I know that its coming will prove That it went to the walls of the wonderful city, The magical City of Love.

In the light of the moon, by the side of the water, I wait for ber coming from over the seas; I wait but to welcome the dust of my daughter, To weep for my daughter Louise.

The path, as of old, reaching out in its splendor, Gleams bright, like a way that an angel has trod : I kiss the cold burden its billows surrender, Sweet clay to lie under the pitiful sod ; But she rests, at the end of the path, in the city, Whose "builder and maker is God."

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WAYNE COUNTY.

KITTY.

HOMER GREENE.

I could not call her by the name Her Quaker mother gave her ; Unwilling were my lips to frame, For one like her, a word so tame, With neither salt nor savor. But, somelow, as I dreamed of her, Neglecting Kent and Chitty, To mind and heart would still recur One name, and that was-Kitty.

. A name some flitting fancy wrought, I know not why nor wherefore, It came to dwell with me unsought, Yet ever to my mind it brought One face and form, and therefore On many a marge of legal brief, In many a careless ditty, On tinted sheet and printed leaf, I scrawled the name of-Kitty.

I wrote to her one day, but why I do not now remember ; I know I dared address her, " My Dear Kitty," and in swift reply, All in the glad September, Came friendly note, and, at the close, Than written word more witty, A pictured kitten in repose, The sign and seal of-Kitty.

This name I gave her to her face. Her lips did not reprove me ; It fitted her with dainty grace, And-strange the name should win the race- Thenceforth she learned to love me. And sweet the joy I find in this, While all the world I pity, That none with me may share the bliss Of calling her my-Kitty.

THE HILLS OF WAYNE.

MARY ASHBY TOWNSEND.

Ye liills of Wayne ! ye hills of Wayne ! In dreams I see your slopes again- In dreams my childish feet explore Your daisied dells, beloved of yore, In dreams with eager feet I press Far up your heights of loveliness, And stand a glad-eyed girl again Upon the happy hills of Wayne !

I see once more the glad sunrise Break on the world's awakening eyes, I see once more the tender corn Shake out its banners to the morn. I see the sleepy valleys kissed

And robbed of all their robes of mist, And laughing day is queen again Of all the verdant hills of Wayne.

I bind about my childish brow The bloomy thorn tree's scented snow, I see, upon the fading flowers, The fatal fingers of the hours. I see the distant village spire Catch on its tips a spark of fire,

As in my dreams the sun again Goes down behind the hills of Wayne.

The cow-boy's coaxing call across The meadow comes, "Co-boss ! Co-boss !" And milky-odored cattle lift Their hoofs among the daisy drift.

The day is over all too soon, And np the sky the haunted moon Glides with its ghost, and bends again Above the wooded hills of Wayne.

Ah ! I have laughed in many a land And I have sighed on many a strand, And lonely beach, where written be The solemn scriptures of the sea. And I have climbed the grandest heights The moon of midnight ever lights, But memory turned from all again To kneel upon the hills of Wayne.

Ye hills of Wayne! ye hills of Wayne ! Ye woods, ye vales, ye fields of grain ! Ye scented morns, ye blue-eyed noons ! Ye ever unforgotten moons ! No matter where my latest breath Shall freeze beneath the kiss of deatlı, May some one bear me back again To sleep among the hills of Wayne !

A WOMAN'S WISH. MARY ASHIBY TOWNSEND.

Would I were lying in a field of clover, Of clover cool and soft, and soft and sweet, With dusky clouds in deep skies hanging over, And scented silence at my head and feet.

Just for one hour to slip the leash of Worry, In eager haste from Thought's impatient neck, And watch it coursing, in its heedless hurry Disdaining Wisdom's call or Duty's beck.

Ah! it were sweet, where clover clumps are meeting And daisies hiding, so to hide and rest ; No sound except my own heart's sturdy beating, Rocking itself to sleep within my breast.

Just to lie there, filled with the deeper breathing That comes of listening to a wild bird's song ! Our souls require at times this full unsheathing- All swords will rust if scabbard-kept too long !

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And I am tired-so tired of rigid duty, So tired of all my tired hands find to do ! I ycarn, I faint for some of life's free beauty, Its loose beads with no straight string running through !

Ay, laugh, if laugh you will at my crude speech ; But women sometimes die of such a grecd, Die for the small joys held beyond thicir reach, And the assurance they have all they need.

HOME.

BY STELLA OF LACKAWANNA (MRS. WATRES).

'Mid the heart-breaks of life come and sec, come and see

What the world holds for me.

Modest-roofed and low-walled is the nest where I hide, From the rougliness outside.

Swing the door softly shut, that no treacherous feet Tread this restful retreat.

Push the bolt, lest a breath from the simoon of sin Flutter stealthily in.

Draw the blinds, that we see not the shipwrecks that float

The bold sea-main ;- or note,

How great gales rend the sails, and the rocks cringe with fear- Only warm winds breathe here.

Could the sunshine of morn touch with heaven's own kiss

Fairer harbor than this ?

Hark ! the legions that wait on the mandates of late, Pause and press at the gate.

But so homely a threshold, so humble a nest, They but scorn to molest.

Marvel not that I love thesc low walls; incomplete, With a world at my feet

Were life's gifts, if no sheltering wall 'twixt my soul, And the breakers' wild roll.

WYOMING. BY STELLA OF LACKAWANNA (MRS. WATRES).

Over the dust of a century's dead, Hushed be our laughter, and muffled our tread ; Voice no loud anthem ; we stand where they stood --- Kinsmen, that hallowed the turf with their blood : Soft as the strains of a lute o'er the sea, Let the deep chords of our symphonies be : Noiseless the foot-fall, and low-bowed the head, Over the dust of a century's dead.

Who has not shuddered, with cheek ashen palc, At the appalling and soul-thrilling tale, Traced o'er the page of a weird long-ago, With the deep pathos of measureless woe? Who never traversed-though seas roll between- Cool-breathing wildwood, and shadowed ravine, Where rang the war-whoop, and bended the bow, Of a red-handed and treachcrous foe ?

Curls the blue smoke from a home so apart, That never quickened a throb of the lieart, O'er the dirc story of rapine and wrong, Blighting our beautiful Valley so long? Stretches a solitude-gloom-girt and far -- Where glows a sunbeam, or glitters a star, That never caught from the night-wailing blast Hints of our tragic and terrible past ?

As clears the mist from the forehead of night, Brightened the sky ; see! what sparkle, what light, Over the green slope of meadow and hill, Where the wild roses are nodding at will : Over the river that moaned in its flow Twice fifty perilous summers ago, When, by its tide, in the sunset's low fires, Fell, with slow torture, our fiend-hunted sircs.

Down the far centuries-winding their way 'Mong the gray vapors of time-shall the clay, Tenderly wrapped at the granite's pure feet, Be all forgot in life's hurry and heat ? No, sob the waves from the muse-haunted shore ; No, sigh the forests, with arms drooping lower ; Nor may the years-swift as eagles above -- Purge the red stain from the Valley we love.

Over a century's historic dust, This be our legacy, this our proud trust- - That no invading and arrogant tread Press the dear turf folded over our dead : And the sweet tide of each incoming spring To our fair homes no disloyalty bring : This be our legacy, this our proud trust, Over a century's love-hallowed dust.

TWO SONGS.

BY "STELLA OF LACKAWANNA " (MRS. HARRIET (HOLLISTER) WATRES).

A song was mine in other days, With rose-buds in my button-hole, And eyes with passion all ablaze, And love-fires raging in my soul ;- All for a girl with ruby lips, And cheeks with dimples always coming ;-- But not the same-oli, no-that now You hear me humming.

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Tune shaped itself, I could but sing, Regardless quite of rule or rote ; For youth was such a glorious thing, And love had birth in every note ; And all the grand-spread world was mine, With airy schemes and castles plenty ; And then I knew it all, you see, What fools at twenty !

My tune is changed ; pray look at me ! No more the splendor of cravat; Or foot that minced so daintily, Or hair pomatumed, and all that : But stout and stoic, with my locks By snows of many winters grizzled : And if I breathe a song at all, 'Tis, somehow, whistled.

And yet not in the merry mood Of those old, sentimental days, When Hope-birds chirped in every wood, And set my foolish heart ablaze : But at the rise and fall of stocks, And general craze of half our species O'er some new quagmire, said to teeni With golden fishes.

I fought the world; the world struck back, And laid me prostrate on the field, With all my music hushed : alack ! What may the weaker do but yield ? My notes are promises to pay : And I am out of tune completely ; Who would imagine that my voice Once piped so sweetly ?

With rosebuds in my button-hole ! It seems a hundred years, or more, Since passion all my senses stole, And I crooned love-songs o'er and o'er ; All for a girl with dimpled cheek, Just born for my entire enslaving :

Ha! ha! no witchery like that Now sets me raving.

RELIGIOUS DENOMINATIONS.

THE FIRST PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH (Hones- dale, Pa.)-That portion of the commonwealth of Pennsylvania now known as Wayne County began to be settled during the latter half of the last century. The emigrants were of all races, and from different sections of the country. Those from New England, New York and New Jersey predominated. In the year 1800 the territory now called Wayne County, so named in honor of General Anthony Wayne, contained about eight hundred inhabitants.

The earliest efforts to make provision for the religious wants of the inhabitants of the county were made by the Baptists. In the spring of 1791 Mr. Samuel Stanton came from Preston, Conn., and located as the first settler in what is now called the town of Mount Pleasant. He and his wife were free communion Baptists. Others of the same faith joined them from time to time, chicfly from New England. In the spring of 1793 the public worship of God was commenced in this settlement. Having no minister of the gospel to preach for them, they read and listened to printed discourses. In July, 1795, at the request of Mr. Stanton, Rev. David Jayne, a minister of the Baptist denomi- nation, born in Goshen, N. Y., in 1750, visited the place and preached to the people. This was probably the first sermon ever preached in what is now known as Wayne County. On the 28th of Jime, 1796, a free Communion Baptist Church was organized, consisting of six members. In 1800 Rev. Ephaphras Thompson became resi- dent pastor of this church. This county was, from time to time, visited by ministers of the Congregational and Presbyterian order. In 1797 Rev. Daniel Thatcher, a missionary of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church, visited this region. He administered the sacra- ment of the Lord's Supper July 9th of that year, to the members of the church of Mount Pleasant. In the spring of 1812 Rev. Worth- ington Wright, a missionary from Connecticut, came to Wayne County and spent the summer preaching at its different settlements. In the autumn he accepted a call to settle in the county. On the 26th of May, 1813, he was installed over the Congregational Church in Salem and Palmyra. His congregation consisted of sub- seribers residing in Salem, Palmyra, Canaan and Dyberry. His residence was at Bethany. In 1815, having lost his wife and his health having partially failed, he asked a dismission and left the county.

On the 26th of January, 1814, a Congrega- tional Church was organized in Mount Pleasant by Rev. Worthington Wright and Rey. Ebe- nezer Kingsbury, both of whom were mission- aries sent out by the Connecticut Missionary Society. It was organized with seventeen mem-

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bers. In 1831 this church changed its form of government and became Presbyterian, which form it still retains. Its first pastor, after it became Presbyterian in form, was Rev. Henry 1. Boyce, installed July 8, 1835. In the years 1823 and 1825 Manrice Wurts obtained acts of incorporation and succeeded in forming the Delaware and Hudson Canal Company. When it became known that the valley in which Honesdale stands would be the termination of the canal and of the railroad to the Lackawanna coal-fields, population began to come in. The people who had gathered here soon began to feel the need of religious instrnetion and religious institutions. The record of the earliest effort to supply this want this church has still in its possession. It consists of a subscription paper drawn up by Edward Mills, to which are ap- pended the names and subscriptions of various individuals who resided in Honesdale and its vicinity. It is as follows :

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History of Wayne, Pike, and Monroe counties, Pennsylvania, Part 68

Author: Mathews, Alfred, 1852-1904. 4n Publication date: 1886 Publisher: Philadelphia : R.T. Peck & Co. Number of Pages: 1438

Author: Mathews, Alfred, 1852-1904. 4n
Publication date: 1886
Publisher: Philadelphia : R.T. Peck & Co.
Number of Pages: 1438