USA > Pennsylvania > Bucks County > The history of Bucks County, Pennsylvania : from the discovery of the Delaware to the present time > Part 73
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But what a change in fifty years, I hardly can refrain from tears, My mind is haunted so with fears For the fate of Cuttalossa.
How wild and how romantic then The path along this silent glen- Now shorn of all by grasping men Where rolls old Cuttalossa.
Near by the stream I used to run To shoot the squirrel with my gun, And there to fish I first begun In thy waters, Cuttalossa.
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HISTORY OF BUCKS COUNTY.
But since the trees of ev'ry height Have disappeared from human sight, In shines the sun from morn till night On dear old Cuttalossa.
No more the squirrels do we see Nimbly leaping from tree to tree ; No fox is running wild and free Along old Cuttalossa.
Thy streams grow less, ah ! tell me why At thy decline we heave a sigh, And raise our voice to Him on high To spare us Cuttalossa.
There are other writers of verse in Bucks county, whose produc- tions are of a highly respectable character, and would do credit to our volume, but the length of the chapter warns us to bring it to a close, and we have room for but few of these.
"WATER LILIES."
SIDNEY L. ANDERSON.18
" Do you know that the Lilies I hold in my hand, Are wafting me back to the fairy land Of my beautiful past ? When we sailed that night And watched in the Heavens the Pleiades' light; Over all the stream with its wealth of flowers Through those silently passing summer hours, Lay the starlight's glitter, and shimmering glory, And the " Lilies," and I heard the 'old, old story.'
To-night it is floating back to me, That tender, witching mystery ;- In the starry silence, I hear once more, The silvery plash of the dipping oar; And the odorous Lilies that lay at my feet, In their closed buds, held my secret sweet.
Months passed, and Christmas bells were ringing, Glad voices of childhood, the ' Carols' were singing, 'Neath the frosted splendor of mistletoe,
Red lips were kissed in the yule log's glow; On the parlor walls hung the holly-wreath red With its crimson buds ; and I-liad my dead, Hearts pulsing with joy, and I so weary, My lips only murmured their ' miserere.' And when summer warmed the land into bloom, I gathered the Lilies to lay on your tomb.
18 Formerly of Newtown, now of Philadelphia;
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HISTORY OF BUCKS COUNTY.
As storm-tossed mariners recall Some coral belted, calm 'atoll,' Upon whose pulseless, sapphire breast, They safely moored their barque for rest ; So I, to-night with tear-dimmed eye, Dream o'er that dream of bliss gone by. When my soul ensphered in your passionate love Smiled back, as the sea does, the Heaven above ; And dreamed that your tenderness would be My haven of rest on Life's surging sea.
And the long, long summer to come, will set me Face to face with your memory ; Never again shall Lilie's bloom, Fill the dewy night air with its rich perfume ; And I not remember a starlit night (In the years that are dead) 'neath the pale moon-light, When the Lilies enstarred the rippling river, And we vowed to be ' tender and true ' forever."
" GREEN ERIN."
CATHARINE MITCHEL.19.
" And sure I was born in the Emerald Isle, Where the Shannon's rough waves are dashing, And I've stood on the shores of Dingle bay When the ocean's white surf was splashing. You would laugh in your sleeve, if ever you heard How I mingled the brogue with my blarney, And with my shilalah a bog trotter beat. When a boy, on the banks of Killarney. O, Erin, green Erin, is ever my liome,- I live near the lake of Killarney.
The mixed rose of England is thorny, I ween ; Like false friends, Scotch tliistles are stinging ; But the shamrock grows smooth on a fair maiden's cheek When its soft-tinted blossoms are springing ; And all the fine folks in Edinburgh town Care not for Saint Pat or Saint Barney, But the priests in old Dublin will worship their names While the mossy turf grows in Killarney. O Erin, green Erin, is ever my home,- Let me dwell on the banks of Killarney.
Your lofty Ben Nevis, and Grampian hills You have grandly surnamed your Highlands ; Let me hear the sound from the Rock Eagle's Nest. That re-echoes among the Islands.
19 Of Hulmeville. From her volume of poems entitled "The Minstrel's Bride."
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HISTORY OF BUCKS COUNTY.
I've roamed o'er the heaths, the braes and the moors, But give me the sweet Groves of Blarney ; I've seen your Loch Levin, Loch Ness, and Loch Tay Still they are not like the lake of Killarney. O Erin, green Erin, is ever my home,- Let me sleep by the side of Killarney.
Your lads they are bold, your lassies are fair, And bright as the dews of the morning ; Their hearts are as pure as the bridal wreath Our dear lady's brow now adorning ; But one that I love is now waiting for me, And as sure as my name is O'Karney, I'll stay till this merry wedding is o'er, Then hurry me back to Killarney.
O Erin, green Erin, is ever my home,- Let me rest by the lake of Kiliarney."
"EVENING THOUGHTS."
BY LIZZIE VAN DEVENTER.20
" A solemn whiteness veils the sky With misty moonbeams trembling through, The winds are low as a lullaby And the hyacinth bells are full of dew. Their perfume floats upon the air And the night is full of wondrous calm,
Save the strange, sweet music breathing there Like the waking notes of a seraph's psalm.
And my heart, like a captive bird, to-night Beats wildly against its prison bars, For I long for a glimpse of that world of light, Of that beautiful home beyond the stars, For a gleam from its streets of shining gold, For a rapturous strain from an angel's lute, For a clasp of the hands that have long been cold, And a word from the lips that have long been mute.
Six weary months ! how the days creep by As we sadly wait on the lonely shore, With many a longing, many a sigh, For the loved and lost who have gone before,
Their feet are pressing the golden strand, Their hearts are thrilling with perfect bliss, For, O ! the glory of that bright land, And, O! the pain and woe of this !
20 Daughter of John Van Deventer, of Richborough, Northampton township.
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HISTORY OF BUCKS COUNTY.
And my tortured heart pours out on the night The burden of its anxious prayer : Do they love us still in that world of light ? Do they long for us ? Do they miss us there ? Do they stand and wait at the pearly gate As they see us nearing the river's brim ? Will the voices we know in the world below Be the first to chant the 'welcome hymn ?'
Oh ! the cry is vain, not a murmur mars The slumbrous stillness of the night, And through the mist the watching stars Seem to mock my prayer with their eyes of light. But a sweet, low whisper speaks within, 'Peace, weary heart ! Peace, child of dust ! All hearts are blest in that land of rest !' And I fold my hands in hope and trust."
" MOTHER, HOME, HEAVEN."
REBECCA SMITH.21
"Glorious trinity of words, Sweetest in the English tongue, What a magic spell ye weave, 'Round the hearts of old and yonng.
Mother, cherished name the child's first lisping As it steps upon life's stage, Hallowed name the last that lingers, On the feeble lip of age.
How that name recalls to memory, Days and scenes of other years ; How it thrills my heart with gladness, How it fills my eyes with tears.
Tears of fond affection falling For the loved ones passed away, Joy that one so kind and gentle, Watched me in life's early day.
Home, thou dear domestic altar, Ark of safety and of love, Where the mother waits to welcome Back again each wandering dove.
Here the spendthrift of life's vigor, Turns again with weary feet- And ambition's bankrupt votaries, Seek in thee a calm retreat."
21 Daughter of Mahlon Smith, of Erwinna.
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HISTORY OF BUCKS COUNTY.
" BEAUTIFUL RAIN." BY LAURA W. WHITE.22
" Oh ! the rain, the beautiful rain, Tapping against the window-pane, Whirled about by the wind in its glee, Sprinkling with diamonds each evergreen tree- Raining, falling, dripping for hours, Refreshing the roots of the withered May-flowers, Scattering the dust in the beaten by-path, Making the daisies and violets laugh- Beautiful rain from the heaven above, Sent by God in his bountiful love.
Oh ! the rain, the beautiful rain, Filling with moisture the valley and plain, Cleansing the dirt and filth from the streets, Drenching the garments of all whom it meets. Moaning, sobbing, weeping, it comes, Casting a cloud over too many homes. People who pause not to think of its worth Value too highly the sunshine of earth, Allow clouds of gloom o'er their features to play, Making darker the hours of a long, rainy day.
Oh ! the rain, the beautiful rain, Clearing all nature of blemish and stain, Falling so gently to earth from the sky, Causing the clouds to go hurrying by. Drizzling, dripping, pelting all day, From the break of the morn till evening grows gray, Sinking far down through the dry, hardened soil, Stopping awhile the tillers from toil, Causing the birds to fold closely their wings, Raising the rivers and filling the springs.
Why is it, then, that this beautiful rain Should cause us to murmur or once to complain ? Why is it, then, when the storm-cloud comes by The brightness departs from so many an eye ? Thankful, hopeful, cheerful should we For this blessing conferred upon us e'er be ; Remembering with joy, 'tis our Saviour's command, That the rain-drops should come and refreshen the land. And so when the grass droops with thirst on the plains, His blessing descends with the beautiful rain."
22 Of Newtown.
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HISTORY OF BUCKS COUNTY.
"UNDER THE STARS."
EMILY F. SEAL.23.
" The moon moves grandly up the sky, The snow-hills flash its radiance back, The cold snow-hills, that stilly lie Along the highway's beaten track, Or stretch far out among the fields, Topped by the fences old and gray, And flank'd by naked woodland shields, As still, and bare, and bleak as they. The Christmas fires burn bright and clear, Shaming the moon-beams through the pane. The steady tramp of the coming year Echoes from mountain unto main.
The young New Year with a joyous bound Steps where the Old Year, moaning, dies. Well may he shake the grey beard round, And scorn him as in death he lies. For the sorrow and sin of years We bury deep in his wide grave,
While a Nation's greeting of happy tears Proclaims the new has come to save.24 But I turn from the yule-logs' blaze, The ringing promise of the dawn,
To where, beneath the moon's pale rays, The camp-fire's light shines brightly on,
'Gainst dark pine woods the white tents gleam ; The weary soldiers silent lie. Can I find 'mong the gathered groups The glance of a familiar eye ?
Is there a young head pillow'd there Fill'd with dreams of his far off home ? The star-light on the soft bright hair That I so lov'd to smooth and comb ! Where the Potomac's dark waves beat Like caged bird 'gainst its prison bars,
Lies my brother in restless sleep, To-night, under the gleaming stars ? Oft in the chill September time I woke with shivering start and moan, Dreaming the cricket's mournful chirp Had been my brother's dying groan. The weary days have come and gone Since then when first his sword he bore, And we have learned a patient way For hearts so carly grieved and sore.
23 Eldest daughter of Joseph Fell, of Buckingham, and wife of William T. Seal, of Attleborough.
24 Lincoln's Emancipation proclamation.
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HISTORY OF BUCKS COUNTY.
But what to me are ringing bells, And what to me the New Year's joy ! Under the glittering stars to-night On snow-hills, lies our soldier-boy. Oh, twinkling eyes from the dark sky, Lit up by the cold moon's pale light,
Look from your royal home on high, And guard my brother's bed to-night.
Look down, look down, your watches keep As angels from the Father's throne. Hover over his weary sleep, Whisper him words from friends at home, Breathe a charm through the still night air, A shield from danger 'round him cast. Make this, oh, stars, your nightly care, And guide my brother home at last."
Octavia E., daughter of Jacob Hill, was born in 1843, and came to Doylestown in her seventeenth year, where she made her home until her marriage to Mr. Henry J. Fahnestock, of Gettysburg, Oc- tober 17th, 1872, whither she removed, and died four months after- ward. Her poetic talent was principally developed while she lived in Bucks county, although she had written previously, both in prose and poetry. She had decided ability, great perseverance, a quick imagination, and showed wonderful talent in letter-writing. She taught for two years at the Moravian Seminary, Bethlehem, with great success, and won for herself a high place among teachers and scholars by her great energy, fondness for study, high regard for duty, and her unfailing kindness and love for her pupils. During this period her mind showed great capability, and gave promise of better things in the future, but she died when but thirty years old. Her friends have carefully preserved a few poetical treasures from her pen, from which we select the following :
"LENTEN THOUGHTS."
("Jesus of Nazareth passeth by."-Gospel for Quinquagesima Sunday.)
" The loving, joyous Christmas-tide is o'er, The startled Magi seek the Babe no more, The mother-wail is hushed on Rama's shore.
The Forty Days of satan's tempting near, The purple robe, the crown of thorns appear- Afar, the cry of 'Crucify !' we hear.
4
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HISTORY OF BUCKS COUNTY.
As earth awaketh from her winter sleep Our souls awake to sense of sin, so deep That penitence can only pray and weep.
While early blossoms haste to hail the Spring, And homeward-flying birds her message bring, We lay our hearts before our suff"ring King.
Thou loving Christ, grant, while we weep with Thee, Our tears of penitence may heartfelt be- May we forsake our sins eternally.
Touch Thou our eyes, that, as thou passeth by, Our darkened hearts may see and feel Thee nigh, And, pleading, echo Bartimeus' cry.
Do what Thou wilt to make us Thine own- O, Crucified ! we would be Thine alone ! We pray Thee hear our penitential moan.
What'er Thou wilt, our hearts to purify, Call us to Thee to live, for Thee to die- But make us feel when " Jesus passeth by."
Miss Hill wrote considerable poetry during the late war, of a mar- tial character, which was much admired and copied into many newspapers.
"THE GIRL IN THE CALICO DRESS."
BY LIZZIE LLOYD.25
" As I strolled out one day, by a farmhouse I passed, And what think I saw there ? I know you can't guess ; 'Twas the prettiest sight that I ever have seen, Yet 't was only-a girl in a calico dress !
The next time that I walked to that farmhouse I strayed- My object in going you'll readily guess-
For the sight I had seen an impression had made, And I sought for the girl in the calico dress !
It was evening ; I found her out milking the cows, But I liked her for that not one whit the less ;
So I watched the white streams that flowed into her pail, While I talked to the girl in the calico dress !
The next time I waited till milking was done, Then I put to the buggy my new horse, Brown Bess; She blushed when she saw me ; she guessed that I came To ride with the girl in the calico dress !
And so things proceeded as they had begun, Till at length she consented my whole life to bless ; And I was the happiest man in the town When I married the girl in the calico dress !
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HISTORY OF BUCKS COUNTY.
And now when at evening I come from my work, And we meet at the door with a loving caress, There isn't a beauty in velvet and pearls, Can compare with my wife in her calico dress !"
"LET THE BELLS BE TOLLED."
BY M. A. HESTON.26
(Upon hearing of the death of George Peabody, orders were given in many of the New England towns that the bells should be tolled.)
" Toll the bell loudly-a great man is dead, Ring out a requiem, let tears be shed ; Noble and great to the end of his days, Toll the bell loudly, sound forth his praise.
Toll the bell sadly, a good man is gone, Earth cannot but miss him from out of her throng;
Just to his fellow-man, good to the poor Toll the bell sadly, lives he no more.
Toll the bell grandly, a noble man sleeps Royalty honors him, poetry weeps ;
'The poor ye have with you,' he remembered indeed, Toll the bell grandly, it is truly his meed.
Toll the bell gently, a kind man rests, Rests from his labors which thousands have blessed ;
For out of his bounty, how many have fed, Toll the bell gently, George Peabody's dead.
Toll ye bells softly, as over the sea, Borne 'mid the wild winds and waves that are free,
The friend of humanity comes home to his clay, Toll ye bells softly, as loved ones would pray."
Had we space we could increase our chapter to a volume. There are many others whose effusions we would gladly insert, but want of space forbids. We have met with but one poet among our Ger- mans, who do not seem inclined to court the muse. The one to whom we refer is Daniel Horne, son of Valentine and Sarah Horne, born near Flatland church, in Richland, about 1800. He taught school a number of years, and died about 1836, unmarried. He had a poetical turn of mind, and wrote a number of ballads, some of a religious cast, in German and English. They were quite popular throughout the upper end of the county fifty years ago, but we have not been able to procure any of his productions.
25 Daughter of Benjamin and Lydia T. Lloyd, of Lower Makefield.
26 Wtfe of George T. Heston, of Newtown.
785
HISTORY OF BUCKS COUNTY.
CHAPTER L.
MANORS AND LARGE LAND GRANTS.
Reserved tracts of land .- Pennsbury manor .- The Indian owner .- Granted to Cap- tain Hyde and others .- Manor of Grimstead .- Penn succeeded to it .- Area .- Biddle's island .- Free Society of Traders .- Privileges of the corporation .- Its location .- Manor of Richlands .- Its contents .- Opened to settlers -- Manor of Perkasie .- A grant to University of Pennsylvania .- Manor of Highlands .- The London company .- Their lands in Tinicum .- Their sale and purchase.
AT the settlement of the state, William Penn reserved, within the present limits of Bucks county, several large tracts which were laid off into proprietary manors, and for other purposes. These were the manors of Pennsbury, Highlands, Perkasie, and Richlands, and the large tracts owned by the Free Society of Traders and the London company. All these tracts have long since been cut up and sold to numerous purchasers.
Pennsbury manor, the home of William Penn, and the most im- portant and interesting of the manors, was situated in Falls, and em- braced nearly half the township. It was once a royal domain, called Sepessin, or Sepessing, and was purchased of an old Indian king, the reputed owner, but probably not until after Penn's arrival. There are several opinions as to the derivation of this name. That which comes nearest to it among the aborigines is "Nipissings," the name of a band of Algonquins, who lived on the banks of lake Nipissing, near lake Huron, when Champlain first penetrated these wilds in 1615. The name is the same that Lindstrom gives on his map of 50
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HISTORY OF BUCKS COUNTY.
1655, to the small stream in Falls which Penn afterward named Welcome creek. Robert Crozier remembered when small vessels came up this creek, and the tides are now kept out by embankments. The tract which formed the manor of Pernsbury appears to have been granted at different times to others, before it came into the possession of Penn. The 10th of October, 1664, Sir Robert Carre, in consideration of their services in conquering the Dutch on the Delaware, granted to Captains Thomas Hyde and Thomas Morley, of the frigates Guinea and William and Nicholas, and to their heirs and assigns forever, " all that tract of land known or called by the Indian name of Chipussen, and now called by the name of the mannour of Grimstead, situated near the head of the said river of Delaware in America." The grantees pledged themselves to "plant and stock the said mannonr" inside of six years. otherwise to be dispossessed. Captain Hyde was empowered to establish courts, and was clothed with all the rights and privileges of a lord of the manor. The grant which covered the manor of Pennsbury was probably never confirmed by the king. At that day the falls at Mor- risville were known as " the head of the Delaware," and so spoken of in numerous documents. The 26th of January, 1672, eight years afterward, Colonel Richard Nicholls granted to his nephew, Mat- thias Nicholls, by patent, a tract of land on the south side of the Delaware below the falls, called by the Indian name of "Chiepis- sing" or " Sepessing," 1 which covered the Hyde and Morley grant, and what was afterward Pennsbury. Three years afterward Nicholls conveyed it to John Barry and company, who were allowed three years to settle it, owing to its distance from other plantations. Nothing came of these grants, for the respective grantees neither planted a colonist nor cleared an acre, and it was included in the tract that Sir Edmund Andros located for the Duke of York in 1675. The journal of the journey of Dankers and Sluyter down the Delaware, in 1679, speaks of a grant, on the west side of the river between the falls and Burlington, made by Andros to one M. Arnout de la Grange, 2 a shopkeeper of New York, which refers to the same tract of country, but we hear nothing more of it. As the terms of none of these conveyances had been carried out by the grantees, William Penn succeeded to all rights of the crown.
1 William Penn says Chipussen was the Indian name of Pennsbury.
2 The father of De la Grange bought Tinicum island of Governor Printz's daughter several years before, and the title was confirmed to the son by the court at Upland after the country had passed to William Penn.
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HISTORY OF BUCKS COUNTY.
In 1684 the manor contained eight thousand four hundred and thirty-one acres, and some addition was made to it afterward. At different times in the next twanty years one thousand eight hundred and eighty-eight acres were sold, including fourteen hundred acres to Arthur Cook, of Philadelphia, about 1699. In 1703 William Penn, by deed of trust, settled the mansion-house, which he calls a " palace," with the land attached to it, on the elder branch of the family. According to the survey of Surveyor-general Eastburn, the manor contained, in 1733, but five thousand eight hundred and thirty-two acres, exclusive of the six per centum reserved for roads. In 1764 John Hughes sued out a writ of common recovery against the manor, and was put in possession, but his title was not sustained. Three years afterward Edward Pennington, attorney for Ann Penn, advertised the manor for sale, when the provincial authorities laid claim to two thousand acres, and tried to impeach her title. The quantity of land still varied. In 1764 we find it contained two gardens, two orchards, seven thousand acres of land, five hundred of meadow, and two hundred of pasture. In 1777, it contained six thousand five hundred and fifty-eight, except the mansion portion of three hundred acres-in the possession of Joseph Kirkbride, of Bordentown, and Thomas Riche, " by virtue of certain articles of agreement, and a certain indenture of bargain and sale, or feof- ment." On the 19th of March it was divided between Kirkbride and Riché by virtue of a deed of partition. The island in the Delaware, now called Newbold's, or Biddle's, island, was let to William Biddle for two lives, who was in possession in 1708. It was included in the manor, and Penn said it always belonged to the Indians on this side the river, who lived at Sepessin, or Pennsbury, and that he would not part with it for a thousand pounds, English money.
In 1792 the manor-house and three hundred acres, reserved in the sale to Kirkbride and Riche, were sold by the heirs of Penn to Robert Crozier. The deed recites " all that capital messuage or manor-house, erected by William Penn, esquire, first proprietor and governor-in-chief of the province of Pennsylvania," etc., etc .. The Crozier mansion was erected where the manor-house had stood. The tract was divided between the two sons of Robert Crozier, Robert and Thomas, the former getting the part belonging to the mansion. The northern boundary of the manor was the road leading from the north corner of Bristol township, by the way
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HISTORY OF BUCKS COUNTY.
of Tyburn, to the Delaware opposite the lower end of Biles's island. It is now divided into many farms, which are among the most highly cultivated and productive in the county. Certain lands in this county were sold to be holden in "free and common socage, and of the manor of Pennsbury," paying to William Penn, his heirs and assigns, on the first day of March in every year, " at the town of Pennsbury," one English silver penny for every one hundred acres.
The oldest grant in the county was that to the " Free Society of Traders," made the 22d and 23d of March, 1682, covering twenty thousand acres. The object of the company, mostly composed of gentlemen of London, of which Nicholas Moore was president, was to carry on trading operations on an extensive scale. The charter, executed the 24th of March, conferred the most liberal privileges ever given to a corporation in this state. They were singular and extraordinary, and made it imperium in imperio. The grant was erected into a manor by the name of the " Manor of Franks," with the right to hold "a court-baron, court-leet, and view of frank- pledge ;" to determine all pleas and controversies, civil and criminal, and other officers and justices were prohibited intermeddling in its affairs ; it had power to hold two courts yearly; to lay taxes and impose fines within the manor, and to appoint its own officers. The corporation was to pay to William Penn the yearly sum of one shilling upon the day of the vernal equinox, or within twenty days thereafter. The society was to send settlers and mechanics to the grant, to establish factories, and to have a monopoly of peltries. Negro servants were to be free after fourteen years service, on condition that they gave the society two-thirds of the produce of the land allotted thein. On the manor was to be erected a society- house, where the officers were to live, and the books and papers were to be kept under three locks and keys. The officers were to continue in office seven years. Such, in brief, were the provisions of this extraordinary corporation, which were probably never carried 'ont, as the " Manor of Franks" has neither location nor history.
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