USA > Vermont > Rutland County > Danby > The history and map of Danby, Vermont > Part 36
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327
HISTORY OF DANBY.
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NUMBER OF BIRTHS, MARRIAGES AND DEATHS. IN THIS TOWN, FOR THE YEARS NAMED, TAKEN FROM THE REGISTRATION REPORTS ..
BIRTHS.
MARRIAGES
DEATHS.
SEX.
PAREN- TAGE.
NATIVITY.
SEX.
AGE.
Years.
Whole No.
Male.
Females.
Ui.known.
Algerican.
Fcreign.
Ui known.
Anif rican.
Foreig !.
Us known.
W role No.
Mrle.
FP na'es.
A:fes Given
Aggregate.
Average.
Per centage.
1857
37
128
9
23
14
13
6
5
2
10
6
1
9
118 29
6.51
1858
33 15 17
1
21
12
10
8
2
19
8
11
19
127 22
1.21
1859
30
18 12
15
11
1
11
6
3
2
10
5!
5
10
15
406
27
1.10
1863
32
14.18
24
5
3
10
8
2
23
12
11
23
924 40
1.62
1864
21
8/13
16
3
2
3
2
1
35
21
13 33
669 20
2.46
1865
18,16
26
8
326
17
1
8
29
19
10
29
985
133
2.04
1867 28
11 17
18
8
2
3
5
1
17
8
9
17
548 32
1.19
1808 22 12 10
1€
4
2:14
13
1
13
1
9 13
304 33
91
1869 35 17 18
16
9
8 14
13 16
1
12
7
5112
101 30
1.22
1870 35 21;14
18 10
7 16
18|
6|11|10
430 85
1.12
21
11|
10
21 1 645 32
1.70
1861
19
10 S
1
15
3
1
7
7
15
4
11
12
479
1.05
1862
30
13.17
20
10
14
10
2
·2
17
2 27
11
16 27
625
123
1.90
€
1866.34
21:13
22
9
35
6
6
S
6
250|52
1860
47
23 24
6 11
1-4
3
Oc Whole No.
.
328
HISTORY OF DANSY.
PRODUCTIONS OF AGRICULTURE.
No. of farms producing to the amount of $500 130
No. acres of improved land. 15,027
" " unimproved " 8,408
Present cash value of farms $678 700
Avarage price per acre. $28,90
Value of farming implements and machinery $32,770
Total amt. wages paid during the year, including board $24.370
LIVE STOCK, ENDING JUNE 1, 1870.
Horses, 268 ; milch cows, 1617; working oxen, 52 ; other cattle, 714 ; sheep, 924 ; swine, 236; value of all live stock, $180,385.
PRODUCE, FOR THE YEAR ENDING JUNE 1, 1870.
No. bushels wheat, 1018 ; rye, 100 ; Indian corn. 14150 ; oats, 16,219 ; barley, 10; buckwheat. 1934. No, Ibs. wool, 4492 ; No. bush. peas and beans, 197; potatoes, 32000; value of orchard products, $5.533 ; produce of market gardens. $1395 ; No. Ibs. butter, 85256 ; cheese. 437 ; tons of hay, 6268 ; bush. grass seed. 175. No. Ibs. maple sugar. 53395 ; call. molasses. 1191; lbs. honey, 1100; value of forest products, $11.181 ; value of animals slaughtered or sold for slaughter, $21.225 ; val- ue of home manufactures, 8525 ; estimated value of all farm pro- ductions, 8243.950.
329
HISTORY OF DANBY.
POETRY
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The following sketches of original poetry have been politely furnished us, which, in order to represent the poctical literature of the town, we have thought best to insert. These poems merit a conspicuous place in our volume, and exhibit a fine poetical inlent, and on account of its being native poetry, will doubtless be read with interest by many.
A BARGAIN.
BY SARAH A. BOYCE, NOW THE WIFE OF MR. J. B. NICHOLS.
"Going ! going ! going ! Who bids for the mother's care ? Who bids for the blue eyed girl ? Her skin is fair, and her soft brown hair Is guiltless of a curl !"
The mother clasped her babe With an arm that love made strong ; She heaved a sigh, but her burning eye Told of the spirits wrong. She gazed on the heartless crowd, But no pitying glance she saw, For the crushing woc her soul must know, Was sanctioned by the law.
"Going ! gentlemen ! going ! The child is worth your bids ; Here's a bargain to be gained,- This chubby thing will one day bring A pile of yellow gold."
"A dollar a pound !" cries a voice Hoarsely from out the throng ; "Two ! three ! five" it calls and the hammer falls ; "Five dollars, gentlemen, gone ?" Five dollars a pound ! and his hand, Just stretched to grasp the child, Is smitten aside by the giant might Of the maniac mother, wild.
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HISTORY OF DANBY.
One moment, and the loaded whip Is poised above her head, Then down, down, it came on her helpless frame, Like a crushing weight of lead, With a tightening grasp on her kidnapped child. She falls to the cold, damp ground ; And the baby is laid on the scales and weighed, And sold for five dollars per pound !
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And the eye of the sun looks down Undimmed on such scenes of sin ; And the freemen's tongue must be chained and dumb. Though his spirit burns within. O God ! for a million Tongues . To thunder Freedom's name, And to utter a ery which ehould piores the ah, , The indignant cry of shame !
Our eagle's talons are red With the reeking blood of the slave, And he kindly flings his protecting wings O'er the site of Freedom's grave ! How long, O Lord ! how long ! Awake in thy mercy and might, And hasten the day which shall open the way Of Truth, and Justice and Right.
LAMENT FOR DR. E. K. KANE,
WHO DIED AT HAVANA, FEBRUARY 16. 1857. BY SARAH A. BOYCE.
Wail ! for the mighty is fallen !
Mourn ! for our loved one sleeps !
The pride of our nation in death lies low,
And the flower of our nation weeps ! The man who knew not fear Has bowed to the foc at last ; And the hero brave of Northern Seas In death is frozen fast. Let the anguished wail ring out,
Our mountains and rocks among, And the blackened cloud of woo be found Where the morning sunbeams hung! Mother ! thou'st shed not thy toars alone ! A nation weeps for the death cold son ! Father ! mingling its tears with thine A wide world bows at thy lost sou's shrine !
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331
HISTORY OF DANBY.
There is no beauty, nor glory, nor grace ; There is no certain abiding place, Since he could die, While his sun shone high,
While the blast of the silver trumpet of fame, Like music over his spirit camc,
And the worshiping love of a nation's heart Was freely poured to him ; But the star of his glory that flamed in pride In death is clouded and dim. Gone ! gone ! gone ! We shall never see him more, Nevermore ! nevermore ! His work is done !
His good brig is moored at last Sails are furled and cables fast.
And through ages long and chill
The same ice shall shroud it still, In its narrow home !
But the captain is not there !
Boundless fields of knowledge fair . Now are all his own ! And the simple earnest prayer
Breathed in suffering and care, "Restore us to our home." God in mercy bowed to hear, And beneath the sable bier Rests the wearied one !
The strong men of the sea, Whose hearts are true and bold,
Mourn that their loved and honored chief Lies in his earth bed cold ; And Hans in his distant Etah home, Will weep in the arins of his bride
When he knows that the naleyak he loved Ilas laid him down and died. Rest in thy slumber sweet ! The laurel is on thy brow !
And the tears of a wide world's bleeding heart Are poured around thee now ! Thou knowest it not ; in thy Father's arms There is rest and peace for thee, Where the weary soul "remembereth not The moaning of the sea !"
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HISTORY OF DANBY.
THE BLACK MAN'S OFFERING.
BY MRS. S. A. NICHOLS.
A fugitive from a rebel prison Hunted and pursued, He paused to look on the sun just risen From the edge of a Georgia wood.
He had braved full many a battle, But his very lips were pale, As he heard the bay of the deep voiced bloodhounds, And knew they were on his trail.
Oh for a minnie rifle, For his tried and trusty sword ; Ile would fight his way through the pack of fiends And have heart to trust in the Lord.
He could bear to stand at bay " And fight while he drew his breath.
But to die like a sheep by a pack of hounds, Had more of horror than death.
Away in the distant north, Wife and mother and child Would never know the fate he met, In the cruel Georgia wild.
Some wanderer perhaps Stumbling over the logs, Might find his crushed and scattered bones, Gnawed clean by the bloody dogs.
Out from among the tree-, Came a negro with eager stride ; One of the watchers over the cause To which their own was allied.
One of the race accursed, Who saw from the reign of the sword, Their coming rest so loug delayed, The Jubilee of the Lord.
Counting their lives as naught. They watched and waited and prayed. Holding nothing too precious or dear to be On the altar of freedom laid.
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HISTORY OF DANBY.
. . $33.
€
His quick eye read the tale, Untold by the fugitive's tongue. And with grim joy he saw at last The hour of his sacrifice come.
Precions indeed his life. Found worthy to be given, . A free but priceless gift to the cause, Dear as the hope of heaven.
Clear on the morning air Rung out the fearful sounds, "The knell of the flying fugitive, The cry of the coming hounds.
"Follow the bed of the stream. Till you come to a fallen tree, Then turn to the left," said the contraband, "And away for your dear life flee."
Away the soldier fled, His soul with new hope fired, With no thought of the martyr's crown to whick The ragged slave aspired.
The negro turned to the west For well indeed he knew, .
The blood hounds trained to hunt the slave, Would be to their training true.
And missing the white man's trail, On the silver streamlets shore They would take at ouce to the black man's track, Nor trouble the white man's more.
Away the soldier sped Safe on the homeward track, And the cruel bloodhounds sped away After the fated black.
On the quiet morning air, Arose a single cry, -
As seized by the merciless fangs of the beasts He fell to the earth to die.
Deep and horribly black Death seemed a shoreless tide. But a snow-white soul with a martyr's crown Came up on the other side.
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334
HISTORY OF DANBY.
DANBY. BY MRS. H. M. CRAPO.
Nestling 'neath the mountain's brow. With its rock-bound hills, I see From the hights of cloud-capped Dorset, The green hills of old Danby. There my grandsires sought a shelter, Fell the giant forest oak, Startling hare and drumming patridge, With the woodman's sturdy stroke. /
There my father breathed his first breath. There 1 claim a birth place, too, Dear to me the hills and valleys, That now greet my wandering view. Through the sunshine brightly sparkles, Otter's peaceful, gliding stream. On its banks the drooping willow, Lowly bends its branches green.
There the whippoorwill at evening, Mournful calls unto his mates, While the trusting village maiden For her lover often waits.
All along the winding valley, Vine wreathed cottages I see, And the hillside homes are many. Where brave hearts beat true and free. Well tilled fields and fertile meadows. Greet my eyes while here I stand, Once a dense unbroken wildwood. Now a fruitful, prosperous land.
We can boast of no broad rivers, Journeying onward to the sea, Passing crowded, bustling cities, With their wealth and poverty. Here no glittering splendor greets us, Here no squalid want abounds ; Sweet contentment, peace aud plenty, In our rural homes are found.
Here are seen no broad prairies. Blooming with the dewy ross, But majestic are our mountains, Grand, in their sublime repose ;
335
HISTORY OF DANBY.
Evergreen remaining ever, While the wild winds rudely blow, And the russet hills are wearing, Mantles of the purest snow. But kind Ceres ne'er forgets us. And with Flora's gentle care, Danby's hills so bleak and barren, Emerald sheens in summer wear.
Dwellers 'neath the mountain's brow, Strong and earnest, brave and free, Grandsires, parents, sons and daughters, Fresh and green in memory, -- May you keep the slumbering patriots,- Brave "Green Mountain boys," who fell Wounded, ou the field of battle, By the rebel shot and shell.
But we would not let them moulder, In the South land far away, And beside departed kindred Sleep our "soldier boys," to day. Where the willow droops the lowest, Where the fairest flowers bloom. Maidens bring thy floral off'rings, Decorate the soldiers tombs ; Leave them there to fade and melder Like the cherished forms beneath, But on high the angels crown them, With a fadeless laurel wreath.
Yes my native town I love thee, Thy cloud-circled mountains free, Thy green hills and murm'ring riv'lets And thy glorious liberty ; There thy people dwell securely, Calm, serene through earthly strife. Bearing with undaunted courage, All the pains and ills of life.
Noble hearts have struggled bravely. With a stern and mighty foe, But the God of Right smiled on them, They have laid the traitor low ; And by our stars and stripes unfurled. I ask that they may be, A favored people, one and all, Whose homes are in Danby.
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1 -386
HISTORY OF DANBY.
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A COLOQUY.
BY MR. A. S. NICHOLS.
A needle and pin, in a work basket lay, Their dear precious moments, idling away, Soon began a dispute, then a quarrel it grew.
"And here's what they said, for I heard them quite through. "I would like to know what you are good for." the pin said. "And how you'll get through this world, without any head."
"What's the use of a head," was the needle's reply.
"What's the use of a head, without you've an eye,"
"Of what use to you, is an eye," the pin said.
'.For most of the time, yours is filled full of thread." Said the needle, "I am active and do lots of work, Whilst you are a showard a notariowas abinl. "
"Yes you are active, but then I'm very strong, And if I predict right, you'll not live very long."
"Will not live very long ! I should like to know why That you should predict that I am to die."
"Because," said the pin, "the truth I'll not hide, You are always having a stitch in your side."
"You're a poor crooked creature," the needle returned.
"And if I mistake not to death you'll be burned," Said the pin, "you're so proud there's no bend to you, The very least effort, would make you in two." Then the needle replied, in a passionate strain, "I'll cut off your head, if you insult me again," And in these words the pin made its reply,- "As sure as you touch me, I'll put out your eye," "You poor worthless thing, without any head, Your whole future life, just hangs by a thread," Now the needle was soon broken off' at the eye. And the pin without head, in the dust forced to lic.
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"Here we are," said the needle, "without eye or head." "Then we've nothing to quarrel about," the pin said, "Although when in life we made vain pretences, Our sad misfortune have brought us to our senses, And all human beings, are like unto us,
They know not they are brothers, 'till laid in the dust."'
UNTO OUR PEOPLE WOE HATH COME.
RY MRS. H. M. CRAPO.
Unto our people woe hath come. They hear the sound of the muffled drumn, The funeral car sweeps o'er the land. Mournfully, sublime and grand.
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337
HISTORY OF DANBY.
Hark ! I hear them as they cry. Assassin ! Traitor ! thou must die ! Search our land from shore to shore, Leave him in his bloody gore. Arm our braves with sword and gun, Let the chase be well begun !
Like a lion bold in search of prey, Went they forth on that very day ; Hunters ! you are on his track, You will surely bring him back.
List ! I hear the people cry, They come ! the murderer is nigh ! They have slain him ! hide him where Traitor hands can never bear Him unto their home away, -- He who did our Chieftain slay !
They bore him away to a nameless grave. Those armed hunters-soldiers brave, Revengers of the Martyr's death,- Bear him now unto his rest.
Chieftain, by the traitor slain,- Myriads join his funeral train, Over hill and vale they come In sable garb with muffled drum ; And I hear them wildly moan, As they bear him to his home, ".O! the cruel, cruel foe. They have laid our Chieftain low."
Slowly and sadly the funeral train, Are bearing him over the Western plain, A nation mourns her honored Chief, Lowly bows her head in grief,
The freedmen follow in his track, Afric's sons with visage black ; And I hear their mournful cry, "'Twas for us he bled and died." No more is heard the mother's wail, At the auction, where the sale Of her children once begun, -- For slave traffic now is done : And the Martyr they're bearing o'er the plain, Was the one that loosed the boudman's chain. In funeral car they bear him on, To his Western home the Ruler comes.
338
HISTORY OF DANBY.
The hearse awaits the coffin there,. And black-plumed steeds his form to bear,. Unto "the city of the dead," There to lay his wounded head ;- Returning from the Western plain, The funeral car rolls back again.
. TO THE 11th VERMONT REGIMENT.
BY MRS. H. M. CRAPO.
There's mourning in our households, There are sad and tearful hearts, The homes are few that have seen not A cherished one depart.
With purpose high and noble, They've battled for the right, Vermont's brave boys have ever Been foremost in the night.
And now they are coming homeward, A remnant of that band, That went out from among us To stay the traitor's hand.
Those comrades brave, where are they ? Who shared with you the fight, Your marches long and toilsome, Your glowing camp-fires bright ?
Brave hearts that then were throbbing With manhood hopes so bright, ()'er Southern vale and hill top Lie cold and still to-night.
No loving hands can ever, Plant sweet flowers o'er their breasts : Far. far from home and kindred These fallen braves do rest.
All cold in death they're sleeping. Their strife and conflict o'er, A tearful tribute rend them,- Comrades you'll greet no more.
und die dero
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HISTORY OF DANBY.
339
GOSSIP.
BY MRS. H. M. CRAPO.
Good afternoon, dear Mrs. Brown. How do you do to day? No, thank you, I will keep my hat, I have not come to stay. I thought I'd just run over here And ask if you had heard The news about the tragedy, That yesterday occurred ? Why Mr. C. has killed himself, Committed suicide !
And do you huon thai Gerald Shaw Has taken him a bride ?
They say she's poor as poor can be, Her folks are voted low ; I wonder if she'll welcome them, Aristocratic Mrs. Shaw ? Have you heard the scandal that's afloat About the Widow Gray? "Tis said that Mr. Frothingham Calls on her every day. That Mrs. F. is growing thin With jealousy and grief. You know he's deacon of our church, I really can't believe That it is true. Oh ! by the way, Miss L. has got a bean ; They say he's twice as old as she, It really can't be so. Did you notice Mrs. Howard's furs Last Sabbath when at church ? The ladies purchased them for her, I think it was at Burt's. -
Our parson was as pleased as she With the present that he got. A pair of gold spectacles, and A fine new beaver bat. They say that Mrs. D. is ill- Some people call her lazy ; That she can work as well as we. She's playing up "my lady." I must go now dear Mrs. Brown --- Come and take tea with me, If convenient you can make it Come over next Wednesday ; I have a secret for your ear,
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340
HISTORY OF DANBY.
I promised not to tell it ; But you are my especial friend. I know that you'll not reveal it ; Good afternoon dear Mrs. Brown, There's Mrs. Grundy coming ; I'll harry on and walk with her, Oh ! my ! she's got on her last year's bonnet.
HENRY H. VAUGHAN,
WHO WAS KILLED AT GETTYSBURG, JULY 3d, 1863. BY MRS. S. A. NICHOLS.
Where the hillside slopes to the southern sun, And a rambling orchard bads and blows, A lone grave sleeps in the waving grass, Or hides 'neath the deep New England snows.
Long years ago, in his quiet rest, They laid a husband and father there, The burden of life, was a weary load To great for his feeble strength to bear.
And the young wife sat, in her stricken home, With her fair haired boy upon her knee, 'Numbed with a sorrow, too deep for words, Alone in her fearful agony.
Through days and nights she wrestled and strove, Beating the tide of anguish back,
That her hand might be strong to guide her son Wisely and well, on life's, devious track.
And at last in his manhood's glorious strength He stood ; the light of her widowed home : And asked her to lay on her country's shrine, The priceless gem he had thought her own.
Under the shimmering light of the moon, The grave in the orchard, peaceful lay, And her tried, true heart dared only to ask, "If his father was living what would he say."
Well she knew, that the loyal man, Would give his treasure, his life, his son, To aid the perilled cause of the right, And she must do as he would have done.
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¡HISTORY OF DANBY. 341
:So she laid, for a time her terror aside, And blest her boy with tearless eye, And sent him out from his love-crowned home, In the smoke of the battle-field to die.
"Then she turned to ber household cares, Doing the duty that nearest lay, Patiently bearing the burden of life, And not forgetting to pray. -
Aye, pray ; thou hast need, for thy fair-haired sou: Sleeps at Gettysburg, gory and dim, His blue eyes glassy, his fair hair torn ! Pray for thyself, mother, not for him,
WHERE ARE THEY.
BY MRS. H. M. CRAPO.
'One morning in the month of May, I wandered down the street, A regiment is going out, . I hear the war drum beat.
A thousand brave Vermonters (They were a splendid sight,) Equipped and armed were going To battle for the right.
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Three long years have passed away, To day they are coming home, A handful of scarred veterans ; Where have the others gone ?
Those gallant brave Vermonters, That proudly marched away, With bauner waving over them, Pray tell me, where are they ?
O, do not ask kind lady. A monruful voice replied, They were in many a battle, Fought bravely by our side. 43
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342
HISTORY OF DANBY.
Some perished in the conflict, Died on the battle field, And others in the hospital, From wounds that never healed.
Others from lingering sickness, Exposure and fatigue, And some were taken prisoners Upon the battle field,
And by those fiends incarnate, Were starved until they died, In filth and vermin perished Many a mother's pride.
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And many a gentle maiden. With heart once light and gay, Weeps for her soldier lover In prison cell to day.
I looked upon those warriors Maimed and scarred in many a fight,
And to myself I questioned, Oh ! how can this be right ?
For our burden is increasing ; What more must we pass through, To appease the wrath of heaven? What can the stricken do?
For every day is bringing -
Some soldier to his home ;
In coffin-beds reposing Our soldiers to us come.
Haste, O haste, kind Father, The dawning star of peace ! And bid the strife be over, The clang of arms to cease.
THE PEDAGOGUE'S TRIAL.
BY MRS. H. M. CRAPO.
With birch and rule he takes his stand. And looks so very wise, That all the scholars stare at him, With wide and open eyes ;
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343
HISTORY OF DANBY.
Hle casts his eyes upon the girls, And theu upon the boys, And in a commanding voice he shouts, "You must'nt make a noise !"
And to the big boys he then says "Attention ! to me hark ; You must not dare when I am by One of these girls to spark. If there is sparking to be done, I am the one to do it, Now if you do not heed my words, You surely boys will rue it."
While thus he speaks an urchin bold, Makes raid upon his dinner ; "Stop that," he cries, "I'll punish you, You ugly little sinner," Another sets a pin upright, That some boy may sit upon't The game works well-a smothered cry And from his seat he hopped.
Noon time comes, oh, what a rush ! The fun will now commence,- The boys and girls begin to play, 'To scuffle and to dance ; In the afternoon visitors come, The lessons are unlearned, There is no water in the pail, The fire will scarcely burn.
The boys throw kisses at the girls, The girls begin to titter, And little urchins on the sly Make faces at the vis'ters ; The Pedagogue looks 'round on them, As "mad as any hatter,"- Oh ! who would for a house and lot, Be a village School Master.
SONG TO THE EMIGRANT,
BY MRS. H. M. CRAPO.
From the Emerald Isles they cross the sea, To our land they come, the home of the free, And their hearts oppressed by want and care, Grow light again when they breathe our air.
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HISTORY OF DAANBY.
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A mighty band they will soon become. They're hast'ning ou, the old and the young ; The Emigrant comes from a foreign shore. The high, the low, the rich and the poor.
To the home of the free they hasten on : Our fields are broad and wave with corn. Emigrant haste to the Western plain. Build thee a cabin and sow the grain,
Thou who hast fought for the Church and Crown, 'Till thine eye is dim, thy brow is bowed, On husks thyself and children fed, From straw thou hast made thy lowly bed.
Seanty thy garb and coarse they foi, Emigrant haste thee over there, The fields await thy coming now, Build thee a cabin, and speed thy plow ..
And thy fields shall teem with golden grain, Haste thee Emigrant over the plain ; Independent as the lord who gave Thee right to toil, to be his slave.
Shalt thou be there, in thy cabin home. When thy fields are gleaned, thy harvest done? Then haste thee emigrant on to weal From the land that crushed thee with iron-heel.
Our fields are broad, we welcome thee. None shall ask thee to bow thy knee. Or doff thy hat when they pass thee by. All are equal, none are high.
Then haste thee emigrant over the plain. Build thee a cabin and sow thy grain, And there beneath thy tree and vine, Sit thee down in life's decline.
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BOAST NOT OF TO-MORROW.
BY MR. A. S. NICHOLS.
Boast not thyself of to-morrow. Thou knowest not what it may be? ! To-day is sunshine-to-morrow May bring a dark cloud over thec.
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HISTORY OF DANBY.
Boast not thyself of to-morrow. Of what thou may'st eat, drink, or wear! To-day, thou hast joy-to-morrow May find thee in dark despair.
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