USA > Vermont > Windsor County > Reading > Centennial celebration, together with an historical sketch of Reading, Windsor County, Vermont, and its inhabitants from the first settlement of the town to 1874 > Part 3
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HISTORY OF READING.
Never must I miss the telling, (For my mind does not misgive me, That you never would forgive me,) Of the famous schools for spelling, With emulation commendable, and a rivalry defensible, There the young combatants took their stand, For a real contest, hand to hand,
In the service of correct orthography : Alike regardless, just then, of geography,
Or any other ology or ography Thus many gathered from all the districts, To try by fair knocks, and not by mean tricks, Determined for the credit of their parts of the town, Not without a struggle, to allow themselves put down.
And this leads to the observing, that few towns are more deserving, Than is Reading to hearty commendation, For efforts in the cause of education.
Furnishing many notable teachers and not a few respectable preachers ; So helping on the cause of social elevation,
And increasing for our nation, the public estimation, Thus the firm foundation laying, For the means of safe conveying, To the future certain prosperity. As well as to the near posterity . Thus too integrity ensuring And thus a welfare long enduring.
Seven towns disputed for the honor Of giving birth to the famous Homer ; So very like, with just as good reason- Because it happened once on a season, Ile came there to bid good-bye to his mother- (She lived there with his sisters and his brother,)
Reading may compete with many another place For having been the birth-town of Chief Justice Chase!
Neither would I neglect, if in this too I may be heard, To pay to the old brick school house, my parting tribute, word : First here in this connection, to describe the complexion Of the thoughts of its past, which in my memory are stirred It was on a small steep hill. pretty near to Bailey's mill ; And to that school a mere baby, summer and winter I went, Half a dozen years it may be, until to the new school house sent; Just established at the middle of the town,
After mature deliberation, for the better accommodation of the families, who had there settled down.
On a little sled, to this school I used to ride ; Drawn by my kind father's hand; Because with my wishes. he willingly complied, And because he loved so well, I should learn to read and spell. But I must not miss a word-by his command.
With a big heap of scholars, when I was older, I rode on a horse-sled, more grand : W'e little ones sat in the straw, while the bolder Conld hold fast by the stakes-and stand. As we rode up the hill, we slid off from the sled, And not against the will, in the snow made our bed. This accident made a great muss and an inexplicable fuss : Which we liked none the less, as you'll readily guess! So I fear there was more play than learning in this school ; Though most fearfully we dreaded the teacher's great rule! I think some of you here, must in this have had a share ; For as I review these scenes with memory's eye. And to recall them by imagination try. It seems to me, half the children in the town were there. When we stood in a class and spelt and read, Always the lucky one went to the head ; But alas! how many slipped down to the foot, While trying to learn how the ideas shoot.
Why at this centennial finally do we meet ? Why with so hearty welcome, do we each other greet? Though different the objects, that took us away, 'Tls the same has Induced us to meet here today,
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HISTORY OF READING.
The remembrance of the homestead in which we had our birth, And of the childhood's gathering, round the paternal hearth ; Of kinsmen and acquaintances, of townsmen. one and all;
These elamorous thronged around our hearts and bade us list the call, To come and try to bring to life, the dear old scenes of yore, And for a few brief hours renew those holiest times once more.
But those of by gone days, were the joys
When we all were merry girls and boys, Now however earnestly we reckon,
Or however anxiously we beckon ;
We can't recall them back, whatever way we try ;
They turn not on their track. they cannot heed our cry.
No longer are we children. we're women now and men,
And everything is changing. nothing is now as their.
With our youthful days departed, Went the dear old forms and faces Of our own true kindly hearted; And now new ones fill their places.
Broader has grown the graveyard. thicker are planted the stones ;
Many new heaps of greensward cov r the dearly-loved ones :
And as we read the names, which once gave us gladness. Then unbidden come the tears, the heart aches with sadnews.
And this lesson true, however sad. we all must sometime learn, That though the past, as life is dear, it never can return : So the best that we can now do is, be thankful for our past, And so improve our present time, that we all may meet at last.
FRANCES MARIA SHEDD BAKER.
Music by Choir of Ye Olden Time.
Recitation of a Poem by Stella M. Bryant, (less than 7 years of age.)
Thomas Curley, Esq., a student in Tuft's College, made a short but telling speech referring particularly to educational matters. No speech was better received, and the editor regrets that he is unable to obtain a copy of it.
Ill health prevented the attendance of Miss Minnie S. Davis and her father, Rev. S. A. Davis, read the following poem, written by her, and dedicated to her father's native town :
ONE HUNDRED YEARS.
BY MINNIE S. DAVIS, HARTFORD, CT.
The story of a hundred years, We sing with joy to-day. And count our father's hopes and fears Through all the devious way. Since first with loval heart and band They broke the virgin soil. And planted here their christian home, By hard and patient toil.
Our glorious Republic then Was struggling into birth. And soon the war-cloud filled the sky And darkened all the earth. And thus our infant sires were taught "Twas noble to be free. For mothers bending 'er them sang The song of Liberty.
Then followed in a sunny train The blessed years of peace. And fruitful farms bloomed on these hills Made rich by earth's inerease.
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HISTORY OF READING.
Religion here her altars reared. And science founded schools, And all the young were taught To walk by Wisdom's rules.
Thus loyal men and women true Were reared to bless the land, Who stood for Liberty and Right, (A brave and fearless band.) Through that darkest. saddest night Of civil strife and hate, When traitors vainly sought to wreck Our noble ship of state.
Thus hath the Father led us through In safety all the way. Our Shield and Comforter by night, Our Glory in the day ! Now praises to llis holy name That we are gathered here To celebrate with speech and song Our centenary year !
We praise him for this joyous day So full of happy meetings! For all its hopes and promises And sweet fraternal greetings! We praise him for the good and ill That all our past has told, And look with confidence for what The future may unfold.
Hartford, Aug. 28th, 1872
The Hon. John M. Stearns of Brooklyn, N. Y., a distinguished lawyer, and a native of Reading, delivered an address, an abstract of which appeared in the Brooklyn Daily Times of Sept. 3, 1872. SUBJECT-"On the changes of a hundred years."
The changes of an hundred years teach lessons in morals or in the economics of life ; according to the standpoint of our observa- tions, or the extended or limited scope of our vision. The great world in its progress for a century last past, has realized the grand- est developments. Even panegyrics on "The lost arts," have few facts to support them in comparison with our acting, living world. A century ago
STEAMBOATS, RAILWAYS AND TELEGRAPHS
were unknown. The appliances of machinery to the manufactory of woolens and cottons and silks and other materials of commerce and trade are scarcely a century old ; while machine farming is a special development of our own country within the last forty years. But these changes in our industries and their wonderfully increased facilities are, if possible, less remarkable than the spirit and pro- gress of our civilization. To bring the illustration home, the fact that barbarous laws were tolerated in this State sanctioning im- prisonment for debt within the last fifty years may be stated. You remember, some of you, the rude, half-finished dwelling of Timothy Cady, standing a few rods from where we are now assembled. He had hewed out a rude home under the shadows of these surrounding hills and had reared a family. I remember three of his sons as grown up young men, but through bad health or bad management,
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HISTORY OF READING.
Cady was poor, and finally consumption fastened on his constitution and he went about this neighborhood as a
WALKING SHADOW OF DEATH,
till one day the Sheriff came with a small execution against him, and in default of goods seized his body and took him to jail. I remember well the one horse wagon in which Cady sat by the side of the Sheriff as they passed my father's door on their way to the jail at Woodstock. A long, sad journey of thirteen miles over the rude highways of that carly day, would be a hard trial to a sick man, even had not that journey been one from the dignity of man- hood to the home of criminals. His bowed head and pale and deathlike features made up a vision that will ever remain among the saddest memories of my life. He lived his week in jail, and was permitted to swear to what everybody knew before-his hope- less poverty- and thus robbed of his dignity of manhood, he was turned out to find his way back to his rude,
POVERTY-STRICKEN HOME,
from which he was carried a few months after to his grave. Now fellow citizens and friends, if you believe that such a transaction as the punishment of this poor sick man for his poverty, could have been so carried out at this day and hour, even among this law abiding people, then you may well deny the boasted progress of this age of wonders and subside in shame for the inhumanity of man. That the world does move in the right direction is shown by the way-marks of progressive years and ages. Two centuries since, the memorials of the bloody age of English
BIGOTRY AND PERSECUTION,
now found in the Tower of London, were the household deities of the national life. But now, sad and regretful, do we survey the " Traitor's Gate," leading up from the Thames, through which passed so many of the great men and patriots of our fatherland to the dungeon, the block and the gibbet ; the victims of a conceived political necessity, or of political hate, which their freedom of thought and opinion inspired in their barbarous days. How has the severity of those comparatively modern times been softened down and replaced by a kindly charity during the last hundred years ? How does the bigotry of the Elizabethian age contrast with the generous charities that have found their "headquarters" and public forum at Exeter Hall in London, during the last seven- ty years ? Thence from the gatherings of the good and great in our fatherland have gone out to the nations, the sympathies of Christian civilization, the
SPIRIT OF HUMAN FREEDOM,
and a benign influence in behalf of the ignorant and oppressed in every land. Through such progress in opinion, English law, in its interest for the weakest subject, has found anew the old precedents
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HISTORY OF READING.
in favor of the defenceless, that, if existing, had been hid away in forgotten records for ages, or their authorities were developed and born through the humanitarian sympathies of regenerated judges.
But these grand illustrations from national development and the progress of civilization-among which the abolition of slavery in this country is the most marked ;- though casting a joyous light over every village, town and hamlet in Christendom, must not lead us away from the subject and occasion that has brought us here to-day. To mark the changes wrought by the last hundred years on this local town,-our birthplace,-we go back to a day when, as the In- dian said, nothing but gloomy forests covered this land, and we ramble with a hunter's instincts through the hemlock woods, over hills and across valleys, and by the alder brooks and forest shaded streams, and find
NO SIGN OF HUMAN HABITATION,
no fields of grass or grain, no camp-fires or hunter's lodge. The forest flowers bloom, and birds sing mournfully to the echoing hills. The " Black Forests" of the German Border are not more dark and gloomy, than were the primitive forests that covered these our native hills. To such a home came Andrew Spear in 1772, and now, at the end of a hundred years, we assemble to celebrate his plek, his perseverance, and his endurance. I must note the great fact of his coming, but I am restricted in time, and must leave others to rehearse the incidents of his hardships and experiences. We only know Reading as a thriving farming town where our
SCHOOL-BOY DAYS WERE PASSED;
when our early dreams painted crimson visions in the clouds ; when love was young and joyous; but in maturer years, perhaps, went back upon itself in the cool, calculating interests of a selfish world. But what changes are wrought even in fifty years! Where are the companions of our early days? Where the old men we saw when we were children? those grandfathers of four-score years whose bowed frames and whitened locks and tottering steps made the im- pressions of our earliest memories? Taking and apportioning the residents of the town, at least three generations have departed to the spirit land. We have their graves and headstones, and rude memorials of their lives on earth. They were and then were not- God took them all away. But nay; they do not sleep beneath the green-clad graves. Machpelah's cave was not the patriarchs' home. Some of our old friends are yet alive, are here, venerable in their lengthened years, and mindful of one great truth, that the earth is not man's long, long home. But let us look. A hundred years, if one could live so long, would be a
HISTORY TO FILL THE SCROLL
of fading memories. In such a life might well be gathered up the moral views and interests that would fill a treasure house to the
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HISTORY OF READING.
soul in its eternal years. Its childhood would not differ from the rest, nor manhood be less charged with toil and duty. But in growing age, the sadness as of autumnal days, would come to his heart and habitation. Like the old father of the forest, he sees his children one by one fade and wither, and fall, and he finds himself alone! Said the venerable Professor Whiting, a nephew I believe of the late Aaron Leeland, of Chester, in this county: "There is sadness in one's increasing years, when one by one his old associates and friends drop away and in the instincts of his friendship, he looks for them but finds them no more." Within the last two months we laid this good old man in his grave. His soul has joined the kindred spirits whose mutual friendships with him during a long life were so pure and beautiful. But to return ; the
LIFE OF A CENTURY
grows darker still when all its friends are gone, and when the fac- ulties and forces that gave vigor to his manly days one by one de- cay and leave his life but the broken arches of a bridge of sighs. It were sad to so look to the end of a broken life, were not the memories of earlier days retained so fresh and green-of faith and hope and joy that cheer the pathway to the grave and lift the clouds from off celestial hills. Then as we leave this history of a hundred years, let us seek faith in Christ, whose hand shall gently lead us in old age, to the Christian's rest ; nay to the land celestial, where flowers perennial bloom, and sighs and sorrow's tears are known no more.
Osceola A. Whitmore, a resident of Malden, Mass., a native of Reading, who has obtained a wide and deserved celebrity as a mu- sician, executed a solo upon the Clarionet, that was cheered to the echo.
Wm. Watkins, Esq., of Towanda, Pa., a native of Reading, de- livered an address but no copy has been furnished for publication. He expressed his pleasure in being present and went on to speak of Vermont institutions and particularly of its judiciary. He thought that the man really ripened up into a full blooded thorough Yankee in Vermont better than anywhere else.
Sewall Fullam Esq., of Ludlow, followed with the annexed speech :
SPEECH OF SEWALL FULLAM, OF LUDLOW.
Mr. President, Ladies and Gentlemen :
It is to be regretted that want of time prevents the full exhibi- ion and consideration of the many incidents of the last century connected with this town.
I am not a native of this town, but of Cavendish, where I was porn April 7, 1799.
March 25, 1807, my father moved into this town and I resided iere until April 16, 1828; my mother, a younger brother and
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HISTORY OF READING.
myself rode here in a sleigh, drawn by a pair of stout bay mares of Seth Thomson, uncle by affinity of Thos. J. Sawyer, D. D., now present ; he was then called "Jeff" for short; and it seems extremely stiff and formal to call him "Doctor" now; my father moved or to the farm where he died, April 27, 1842, aged sixty-nine, and where my mother died Sept. 24, 1865, aged eighty-eight, and to that period I kept myself posted in the affairs of the town.
When my father moved here there was a dilapidated tannery or the North line of Lieut. Kimball's farm, now Allen Spaulding's formerly occupied by Eben G. Cheever, and his old bark stone i now on the east end of a sluice across the highway a little south of Alonzo P. Watkins' house.
At that time Reuben Parker, called the prophet, (for he alway prophesied a famine before that great and terrible day of the Lord when he had grain to sell; and when he had it to buy he prophesiec a short season of plenty before that season, which he held to be a hand,) he had a brick yard, and a hand machine for cutting nail from iron hoops, old shovel and hoe blades, etc., he made car wheels and kept a small store.
A Mr. Webster lived near Mr. Parker's with a large family e splendid singers; they used to make weaver's reeds by hand; they were of dark complexion; their ancestors came from the Eas Indies, and by way of taunt the boys used to call them "third Indian, third Negro, third White," and Mr. James Hall, an Eng lishman, said "they zet and zing and zing, until the cows standing near the door would zing considerable."
Cornelius Sawyer next neighbor, a Revolutionary soldier, was : farmer and a wheelwright.
Benj. Sawyer was next neighbor, and a farmer.
Preston & Sawyer's cloth dressing mill was on the brook nea the school house which was erected in 1815.
Dea. John Weld the emphatical father of the town, lived wher Henry S. Austin now lives; he had a tavern, store and potash ; h died March 20, 1816, aged eighty-eight, and as he gave the ground for the cemetry where he was buried, the citizens erected at hi grave, a respectable stone to his memory.
Near Dea. Weld's, Benoni Buck Esq., erected a blacksmith' shop in which Calvin Leavens first worked, he also kept a taver near by.
William Howard had a tannery where Hiram Rice now live The above named road was called Tattle Street, (now Sawyer' road.)
Leaving this road near the "Guide Board " erected by Isaa Baldwin, a road turned to the right and more easterly, and by tannery once owned by one Nehemiah Herrick, who fell dead & his plow a few years before.
At the next house, (Amasa Watkins,) lived Dr. Elkanah Day the first resident physician in this town, prior to 1790; he came from
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HISTORY OF READING.
Windham county, where he was sheriff in 1786 and 1787; and was afterwards killed by a fall from his horse.
At Alder Meadow Brook, a saw mill was erected about 1790, by a company of six men, where Amasa Watkins Jr.'s mill lately stood; the first saw was made of a bar of Swedes iron by a black- smith named Johnson, who lived near by.
On the top of the first hill north of the brook lived Noah Bige- ow, who built the first cider mill in that part of the town, and Dr. Silas Bowen, the third doctor in town lived with him when first married.
On the farm owned by Parker Kinsman, John Willey kept a store, near the site of Harmony school house, and he had a potash on Farmers' Brook.
Elisha Smith had a blacksmith's shop in front of Arnold Bixby's house where, among other things he made jews-harps.
Just above the bridge on Darby brook, Enon Clark had clothiers' works; he was succeeded by Cornelius Barnes, Nathan Boynton, now living in Andover, aged eighty-six,) and by George Clark, und Peter Darby had a saw mill just above.
The men between the Alder Meadow and Darby Brooks were lescribed by a primitive poet as
Gospel Smith and Frothy John Cuddling Squire and lying Honest Noah and Silas too, Swearing Clark and noisy Jo.
This road was called by the euphonious name of Pucker Street ; he road from D. P. Jones to South Reading, Grasshopper Lane : South Reading, the city of Malagash; and the road by A. W. łoddard's, Skunksboro.
The same poet renders them thus:
The people all were called to meet To change the name of Pucker Street, And thought 'twould make a better sound To change the name to Pucker town.
From West to East we make a dash From Pucker Street to Malagash, And when we shall return again We crawl up through Grasshopper Lane.
From Madam Jugs, if we go east, And when old Dippers we have passed, Skunksboro's mostly in the rear, Aside from scent, there's naught to fear.
When the town was first surveyed, "the Citadel" as the parsonage as called, was established, and then a road southerly eight rods ide to Alder Meadow, with fifty acre house lots on each side qual to the number of shares in the charter (68 shares. ) This jas intended as the great mart of the town; the Log Meeting louse was on this road and about thirty rods south of the Sargent louse or parsonage.
Near Grasshopper Lane on the south line of Dea. Aaron God- ard's orchard, (now Merritt E. Goddard's,) was a log house and
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HISTORY OF READING.
blacksmith's shop occupied by Ephraim Bixby supposed to have been the first in town.
Eben Robinson Esq., had a cider mill at an early day; he was a soldier of the revolution, and died at a comparatively recent date aged ninety-two, on the farm where he first settled.
About the commencement of the present century, Capt. Jonathan Chandler erected a saw and grist mill at South Reading, and Jon- athan True opened a store; Elijah Spear, (son of Andrew,) had a shop.in which he made axes, for which he was famous.
At the wharf, (middle of the town,) Capt. David Burnham opened a tavern in 1786; afterward John Hewlett and Jacob Brigham each did the same, and Elisha Bigelow Jr., also had one on the north side of the farm of the late Arnold Goddard.
Allen & Farwell had a store and potash at the upper end of the wharf, and Dea. Brigham was a blacksmith at the lower end.
David Hapgood kept a tavern where E. S. Hammond now lives.
Eleazer Hathorn had a shop south of Nelson Whittemore's house, where he made steelvards which were said to weigh well and were so handsome they would talk some.
Nathan Sherwin kept a tavern at Sherwin Hollow, and Capt. Jesse Holden kept a store there.
Col. Moses Chaplain kept a tavern on the Forbush place, and was succeeded by Capt. Rufus Forbush about 1805. William L. Hawkins Esq., opened the first tavern at Hammondsville, Abel Amsden at the Amsden place, and Joseph Fairbank at Orpheus Coburn's house at Felchville. The reason of these numerous tav. erns was, that the road from Woodstock to Boston was over the Forbush hill, through the middle of the town and by the way of Pucker Street to Cavendish.
The first saw mill in town was built by Col. Tyler of Claremont N. H., in 1780, who built a grist mill in 1783; these were a little below Carlos Wardner's on mill brook; Bailey's mills were firs built by Abram Bailey and George Betterly, and Morse mill: now gone) were built by Alpheus Morse; a saw mill was built by Samuel Buck, near Simeon Buek's, at the raising of which Danie Blanchard who lived on the America Amsden place and was the master workman, was killed.
John Sawyer, who married Dea. Weld's daughter, built Charle: Buck's house; when preparing to build the chimney he wanted & stone some nine or ten feet long for a mantle tree and got hi: brother Benjamin to go with him and find one; they went to the hill north of his house and went to the border of the Buck fain and found a stone which was larg, but by splitting would make three; they looked a little further and found one. A Mr. Leaven shortly after built a house a short distance east of Uncle JJohn's (The men and women on Tattle Street had a wonderful faculty o being uneles and aunts to every body ; ) he went to uncle John t learn where he could find a mantle tree; they went to see the ston but could not find it; they called on uncle Ben, who said he would
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