1>S tfe^^ , R b ^IW^iiM fUcu. From Council Fire to Caucus. 'And I shall give thee the heathen for thine inheritance." Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2010 with funding from The Library of Congress http://www.archive.org/details/wegeraceasterchaOOrice Copyright 1884. hv T. C. KICK. A Chapter In 3 e career of Infant Packaehoag, writ lor all times, but for ye Bi-centennial in partic- ular, and I'espectfully dedicated to YE GOOD PEOPLE OF WOECESTER, _ T by a scion of ye original stock, "Thomas Y- Mi/7ner." l\yi(er of ^'Ye Snake Stori<^' "Philosophy in Bags.' "Ei'olntion,'" "M'with'.'" et(>r\ e$c^r:pr%^. '\ \ ■-' ' " w /I I cop.H,ht^OCT 15 1gS4j by T. c. RICE. ^^ '^ ^J^^y^ I 'e ivay to consider it. \^S^ Ye author of ye rambling diseonrse makes no pieteii- tion here to historical accuracy, nor yet does he purpose to mislead by erroneous statements or false coloring. But he proposes to leave ye beaten paths of recor- ded incidents, and to summon memory to his aid. as also, ye unwrit legends of ye ancient people of ye town, hoping thereby to instruct ye young men and ^Yomen. and to amuse ye eld, And, so far as ye evil tendencies of our common nature may be held in abeyance, he will avoid any allusion to such matters or subjects as indiscreet and vicious per- sons have in all times sought to convert to scandal, to ye disgust of ye wise, ye contempt of ye strong and ye cruel detriment of ye weak. In an undertaking like this, ye author conceives it to be rmpracticable to string events, or past life pictures, upon a thread of discourse as may be done in histor^^ or in romance, with a nice attention to uniformity and natural sequence, where like moulded beads, each incident is the counterpart, or in some degree the fellow of every other, but he is constrained to fashion it more like a string of wampum, where atoms of unequal proportions, models perhaps of incongruity, nestle by each other in unhappy heterogene. In history or in romance it is ye method of ye authors to hinge each event or circumstance upon one or all pre- ceding, and to concentrate, forces at some important ter- minus, making each and all subservient to some grand culmination. Notably in our owai history it is ye aim to build upon a foundation of semi l^arbaric type, a super- structure of ye highest form of goverment and civiliza- tion, through a process tenacious of sequence and sym etry. InvocaUon. Teacli me niv Muse some other way Than Caleb's eye could see. And all beyond what Caleb knows. YoucliSc.fe Oh Muse to me. Ye Beginning. Ten scores of years haye passed away Sinee as the homely records say. Sans ceremonies compact. Cro^yn leaye. or legislatiye act. Some farmers, British by descent, On weal of neighborhood intent. In canclaye met. shirtsleeyed and bro^yn. By fiat improvised a town.* I count my fingers o"er and o'er And try to realize ten score. But as the mist}^ cj'cles fiy I see Time's riyer running dry Fiye decades back, where all to me . Kesolyes into blank mystery, — And 3^et I know that prior to then Old Packachoao- reared famous men. *Tlie inci.k'iit of insi, was the bestowal of the ]u-e.seiit name upon the plantation by order of the general court, hut as \et there was no per- m.inent settlement. The settlement soon following converted the eight mile tr:te' rr tovrneen sainted now. and then. For being wisest, holiest, best — For at a prayer he was an fait, And though at feast convivial, None needy went from him away With alms gift mean or trivial. He knew his rosary full well. And all his blessed beads could tell; A theologian ingrain. His churchly scutcheon knew no staiii: He swore by every faith and creed — While eschewing dogmatic bickering — And followed every shepherd's lead From Cotton Mather down to Pickering.* I like the style of that old man, Denouncing as of coui'se his evil Which mostly came of cup and can, Twas rum with him that raised the devil. Whate'er you say, whate'er you think. Be sure his name will live long after Both yours and mine have leaj^t the brink And disappeared in the hereafter. Those sallies of the rhymster's wit. The repartee that set men smiling, Would antidote dyspepsia's fit. *Elder Pickering was among the first Methodist revivalists to visit Worcester. He held services in the Town Ha]], about the year 18S8. And be to woe a charm beguiling, While lisping children learn to quote, And older lads to quite adore him, The man who "wore the long blue coat," The coat "all buttoned down before" him. For he who wakes the torpid blood And sends it tingling through its courses. Works out a miracle of good By stirring up our latent forces. What e'er we think, what e'er we say. Who nurses humor to the letter, And gives to happy thoughts their sway. May " see" four score and " go ten better." The men of that day were polite, But not a whit cosmopolite;* They knew no friends beyond the sea, The Yank had no affinity. Turn Europe in, or turn her out. There stood John Bull, or Sourkrout; The one they hated beyond measure, The one disliked in silent leisvire. The one respected flag nor cargo And brought about that curs't embargo; The one, to multiply our harms *Cosmop()lite,— A great abuse of the Queen's English, but vastly convenient at this time. Had sold to England men and arms, And — worst of all — had left the rabble In politics and faith to dabble; To make the new confederation No more a homogeneous Nation. They loved the Turk — when wide asunder— They loved him for his blood and thunder, They loved Napoleon — afar — They loved the scorpion of war. As when a wolf has tasted gore The burning gullet cries for more, The Eevolution served to whet An appetite not sated yet. Not sated, till at sixty six Glory had wallow^ed in the styx. They could forgive, but ne'er forgot How France misused the Huguenot. Through whim, or sentiment alone They hated aliens, flesh and bone; They hated Spain, they knew not why; The Holy See was Italy, And therefore much the lowest nation Was Italy in degradation. A drunken Infidel was Peter, Nor were the Czar's descendants better. In great degree those men were read. And yet the crojD they harvested Of knowledge, was the less profound. Because doctrinally, so sound, They tabooed Shakespear. Kepler. Bacon, 10 Called romance lies, science mistaken. And ranked among the friends of hell, Yoltair and Paine the Infidel. So much for public sentiment To sway a mind against its bent, To urge a soul ag^ainst its reason — To doubt the Holy writ was treason; Was treason to the common faith, That I'oused the ruling churchmen's wrath. Till doubting* Thomas g^a^e consent And shouted for the mystic wi^aith. Five decades back I mind me well Of hearing the ungodly tell Of '^Tom Paine tlie Infidel"— . They had the law but rarely used it. It was their son's sons that abused it. They served not crime as we in cities. But more with vigilence committees. As many a roving scamp might tell Remembering' where the whiplash felL Even Grimes himself, the poet, seer, For vagabondage lost an ear.* With what a high despotic hand *Read secojirtJine on page, fiends of Hell. *TIie farmers of Holden, in one of these quiekly fnipro\'::std leijce- post trials, declarerl liini forfeited an ear,, ami ,sans ceremony elippetl It for him> 11 Doth custom rule when in command; Why ! half a centiiiy ago The parson loved his bitters so, No light his flaming back log shed That glared not on a loggerhead: A loggerhead all sparkling hot. And rum and home brewed beer in pot, With egg in batter sacahrine To work the winter brew devine.* And as the pastor made his call. His semi- occasional pastoral. The lady who most visits got Was she who brewed the finest pot. How strangely now 'twould seem to see Her ofter anything but tea. So fickle, custom, right or wrong. No phase can hold the sceptre long. But now I choose to turn again To local scenes apart from men. 'Long Jo Bill Eoad I saunter on Toward the tavern, Rising Sun* There many an old bird had his rollick. And young bucks at late hours would frolic. Now by Mill brook my feet meander. My boyish eyes knew nothing grander. c^Tive Brew— The flip of our fathers. Old Grimes was said, perhaps er roneously, to . be the inventor of the true yankee flip which (iiffers vastly, and favorably to itself, from the English beverage of that name *The Rising Sun Tavern at Tatnuck, displayed its sign, a rising Sun„ as late as 1842. 12 Those sturdy elms, those willow trees* That rustled in the summer breeze Anent the Arch, that winding stream, — ^It was not rife then with polution, No puzzle had we for solution* — I saw its rippling waters gleam Neath shadowy oaks, where now I guess On high brick walls you read S. S,* Nor ever dream that all around Was gentrys' private pleasure ground. Where now two thousand men by day Spin iron threads, a sweet grove lay,* A basin sparkled in the light, A waterfall was dancing bright, Impatient of the long delay From North Pond by its tortuous way, There in that brimming aqueous dish We school boys paddled with the fish. We paddled, or with stealthy tread. An alder stick and linen thread, A crooked pin hook curved exact, A grasshopper to make imjDact Upon the surface of the cool *Tho8e Weeping Willow trees grew upon an island in the streaiu above tlie arch and east of the Salsbury Mansion. *No puzzle had we for Bolution, like the sewer problem. *S. S. Where the great business blocks of Salsbury's stand on Union Street, were the grove and gardens of the Wheeler and Bangs estates. *The works of Washburn and Moen, Grove Street, cover the site of the "old Grove" and its little original pond, then a well patronized bathing place. 13 Grass hidden, loitering, dreamy pool. We cast, with most consummate tact, As winding' in and winding out The swirl gave token of a trout. From bog to bog for church I leapt. Where frogs their safe siestas kept To wake into nocturnal bliss And make a howling wilderness. On iron rails see commerce run With every jjroduct neath the Sun. There where I strode through mud and smurcli On stony flags I march to church. That brave old church that reared its head When strictest Orthodoxy said For Quakers and for Baptists too. The fires of Hell were burning blue,* Defiant reared its four horned crest,*_ Its low tower topping all the rest. Fernent the church the Training Ground, With naught enclosed except the Pound. By what we term the Fair Grounds Was mead and forest all around. On what was then the Lincohi grange *Tlie fires of HeU etc.,— See history for wrangles, or at least lieateti discussions, between Dr. Austin and tlie new Baptist preaclier. *Tlie first Baptist church was burned upon the site of tlie present one at Salem Square, and its belfry was in its day adorned with four horns. 14 A herd of red deer used to range; A flock of wild geese used to swing Upon the waters of the spring, And where those flowers with laughing eyes Reflect the glory of our skies, A gorgeous floral Paradise, Was treacherous swamp, where step amiss Led to a bottomless abyss. Where floral gems of every hue. With sombre pines of arctic birth Are mirrored from the liquid blue. We see again the new made Earth — And through the rosy Summer hours Where reappears the spouting Lynde.* We sit again by Eden's bowers. As if our Mother had not sinned. But now must I with nimble tread Glide o'er the pathway of the dead Must "show mj hand," or in a trice Must throw this box of antique dice. Or else the living men who know The truths that here I fain would show. Will hail me from that next condition To come and take their deposition. *The Siiouting Lj ude,— The waters of the great fomitiiin in Elm Park are derived from T^vntle brook, in Leicester. 15 What music at the close of day When o'er the hamlet quiet crept; — No sonnd, save whistle far away, The soft note of the whippoorwill, Or w^here the crickets vespers kept, That made the silence seem more still. - To hear the boatman's trumpet bray, Announcing to the village ears Some new arrival at the piers; Some gre:ot canal boat swinging in"^ To Bigelow's or Jackson's bin, Or at the lower docks to moor, The basin at the Iron store. Hie O 1 That Tally ho ! I hear the red faced Jehu blow, As rattling in from Tatnuck plains Rides Genery Twichell at the reins, Through mud and slush, with six in hand. How audibly the wheels can talk* To urge the wheelers to their work. As flies the drivers tingling wand A fractious leaders ear to spoil,* *Some great canal boat, &c. The upper-central and iOY/cr basins were at Central, Bridge and Front Streets,— Jackson's, BigcJow's and I'ratt's.— The two former dealt chiefly in grain, and the latter ua now, in iron. M3ld Drivers would declare they could recognize a team T/agon, or coach by the "talk of the wheels long before it hove in sight. They re- ferred to the shuck. * A fractious leader s ear to spoil.— The old time drivers conhidered one expert who could pick atiy from a leadtu-"s ear at the en-l of a til- teen foot lash. 16 Eound lip to Bonney's Tavern come* The panting horses all a-foam And end their hour of toil. From Shrewsbury hills I hear a groan Roll like the far spant thunder's moan,* And now along the turnpike way, Rattling, rumbling on its way; Now rolling up in echoes shi-ill Along, and over Millstone Hill, Till rallying at the Hermet's Dell,* I translate it as — "Fish to sell." No blast to wind was ever borne Like that of Israel's four foot horn.* Some summer days, in breach of rule. As truants we escaped from school, And by the shores of that old lake, Where Philip made the Nipnet's break Their plighted faith, and near and far Lift up the tomahawk of war,* Within the deep old chestnut wood As lordly we as gypsies stood. *Bo)niey's Taveni was the "Central" on the site of the Bay State. * Hermetage. *Israel Rice died in 1882, aged 96 years. Fifty yeaxs ago he was bringing flsh weekly from Boston in a one-horse wagon and heing a man of marked peculiarities, which he maintained nntil his death; he was tmiversally known. On a still day tiiat tish hoxn would announce his coming befoi-e he left the Shrewsbury hills. *Tradition said in years gone by, that upon the little plat under tjne brow of Wigwam Hill, and by the water. King Philip met the Xipnet braves in council, and persuaded them to dig up the hatchet. A7 'Twas by Long Pond, for pity's sake Don't speak of it as then the Lake. It blots the reminiscence out. — How Wigwam echoed back the shout.* As paddhng through the glassy tide We hallooed from the Shrewsbury side. ■But Oh ! the s^^ot that "took the cakes,'" It was the island known as Blake's. Such mysteries to boyish eyes; A cottage where was many a prize. As through the keyhole we might see The remnant of some revelry, And long necked bottles scattered round, Wheron some Frenchy stufi' was found; Heidsieck and such, Brown Stout, and Bass', For lack of keys we let it pass. Oh sweet old Lake, Oh grand old wood. Those dark bluffs where the wigwams stood, Those waters where the birch canoe Like arrow darted o'er the blue, Yon shady dells, where evening's bird Kept silent watch o'er sleeping herd,* Where by the noondaj^ twilight hid. Slept whijDpoorwill. and katydid. -Wigwam Hill. ^Sleeping herd.— Deer and all other large game maintained their ground in and abotit the deep wooded dells upon the lake shore, long ilfter they had forsaken their tormer haunts for miles around. m That mass of crags on Wigwam Hill; How memory starts me with a thrill, As down the vista of the past I see the long dun shadows cast Of spruce and pine, see high in space The white head eag-le take his pla-ce. Or, breaking circle, plunge below, And rising shake the beaded snow. By wigwam door at shut of day I saw the little Redskin play, I heard the sad faced mother say — Perhaps to son, perhaps to self, Perhax^s to sire's wandering elf. In gutteral Nipnet dialect, "Oh Lack a day 1 Oh Lack a day ! No more of good may we expect." Anear a lithe, dark figure stood, Emerged from out the tangled wood; An idle bow was in his hand. The sweat stood where the wampum band Begirt his broad browm open brow; A listless glare was in his eye. While hanging at his belted thigh An empty bottle told of art That ruled within the white man's mart To lure him to his overthrow. The phantom of futurity, 19- The spirit of a prophesy. Young wampum belted squaw on thee Thy dazed brave looked so ruefully; Oh Sun brown girl, Oh silent brave — Your name is still linked to the wave, But you have now, Avho were its king. Nor land, nor life, nor anything. Swing roimd again, Oh I Dial Time. For passing hours decades bring; Swing till your pointing fingers climb And count the scores ten times — Swing ! But Oh ! I cannot, cannot see, I cannot realize ten score And make a picture true to me, By counting decades o'er and o'er. I would not write a romance here In this my sire's two hundreth year, But soothly I may wander back By fancy's hght, or memory's track. By yonder bridge, that floating mass Of chestnut logs securely bound,* I saw a squaw, a Redskin pass How on the whiteman's work she frowned. Poor Sally Boston — ^long ago* *The floating bridge, eight Imiidred feet in length. *Saliy Boston,— A Grafton indian woman, veiy powerfu], strangely eccentric, prond and jealons of her rights, and a tavern terror when hi drink. As boys we viewed her with profovmdest awe. She lived to a groat ago and'died somewhere 1840. 20 You saw the honeysuckles blow. The May flowers peep from drifts of snow; You saw the blossomed chestnut spread Its golden fringes o'er your head, The cardinals bloom by the brook, The yellow daisy ope its eye And smile upon your changeful sky. Or on your half nude figure look. You saw the oak leaves coppered hue, The scarlet maples gleaming fire. The violets laughing in the dew. The hemlock's steepled cone aspire: You saw the sumach's purple spray. The lichens in the forest's gloom, And where the river makes its way The yellow freckled lillies bloom. Oh ! Sally Boston, when that hand Reft of its wood your dreamy land • And drove the wild duck from the lake, The deer from out his drowsy dell. You dreamed not that his lust would tak The very soil on which you dwell. In that new hunting ground I know You will forgive, you will forget. The scowl of scorn the robber set Upon your fierce, broad, sunny brow; The Nipnet is his ecpial now. 21 How many things of quaint and queer, Grow obsolete in three score years; If so in three, who thinks but ten Would make a different race of men- Here's what I saw with my own eye — You know ''I cannot tell a lie" — I tell it as my fellow men All saw it as I saw it then. Sal Boston marching through the aisle* Of Going's church, with tall black tile, A beaver hat upon her head — In sheer contempt the haughty scjuaw Glared fiercely upon all she saw — Her skirt was calico, and spread Upon her brawney shoulders lay An old black coat; a pipe of clay Between her teeth, and thus arrayed. She alone stood while Elder Going prayed. Do you remember Levi! not the Jew,* How like Callio2:)e he led his choir — Stoddard's Calliope, that ten times two * Horse power orchestra, so full of screams. It gave you colic pains and frightful dreanis; 'Twould set the church ablaze with holy jGire. 'The old men remember Tievi. •-Sally Boston marching throug-h the aisle.— I well remenioer the -.irectacle, and it was as I describe it. *The Calliope was invented and constructed in Worcester, about the year 1855 by a Mr. Stoddard, one of Worcester's then ingenious mecha- jilcs. 22 Do yon remember the clmrcli wrangle when* The sorts of sacred miTsic parted men ? The old men said it was " to be abhored To scrape a fiddle in the praise of God." Queer changes ! Thought is now so grand. It dares to criticise Divine command — At least the writ — and so audacious grown. They'l "halloo" yet to God, by telephone. No longer Scripture is with teachings fraught; They mould the plastic mass to suit the thought. Twixt the six thousand, ages intervene. And locate Eve, somew^here, point Pliocine. So mind has worked into a mortal muddle Where proven facts with aspirations caddie, Where gross eternals mingle with the rare. And make our Heaven here, or anywh'ere. So when the thought on tireless wing surveys The links that bind conditions to their ways. And rigid science designates a fault, Tiie startled churchmen turn a summersault. With wonder in that ancient day I saw the quarry masons lay The corner stone of that old shed Where ended the new railroad bed; That queer device, that newest notion. That should link Worcester to the ocean. *Do you lenioinbev the church wrangle? All the old men reniemher it. 23 It was fernent the Lincoln farms:. Just rearward of the old King's Arin^."^ It was the da waning of a day When steam and lightning should have sway But even then Sir Genery Twichell, With Tyler's message in his satchel. Astride of horse to Hartford rode Along the hilly turnpike road, And beat the steam cars by an hour. Men knew not of that subtler powder. That power which would wdth message flit To earth's end faster than twas writ. Acoustics since lias had its turn: Though science had its limit fixed. Yet proud assurance had to learn — How^ever it the data mixed, — That from the antipodes could come Articulation to a drum, In sounds as audible, and clear. As if in contact with the ear. Again I plume my dusky wing To scenes in retrospection bring. *Tlie enrly authorities say it is tlifficult to now locate tiie '"Kiiig's Arras," but a more recent writer fixes it at the north corner of Elm and Main Sts., Fifty years ago it was a prevalent notion that the location was just south of what is now Foster & Main, and a gentleman still living, well on toward ninely, one of Lincoln's cited authorities, says it Avas at the last named spot. It seems to have passed nut of sight and nut nf mind at the date of the Revolution. 24 Where Lincobi roadway runs to Kortli* I martial Little Billy forth,* Forth from his cave, where busy qiiill And busier mind his images fill. From musty archives sparkling clear, Old forms in polished guise appear. In that old square for Lincoln named. Where bars, and bolts, and stone walls tamed* The too free spirits of the times Again I see the good man Grimes. The office of the jester then. To cheer the hearts of better men. Whose onl}^ misdemeanor yet AVas that they could not pay a del)t. Through murky distance glancing back Along the vanished decades track, To learn w^ho from those prison bars Shook off the guiltless taint and scars. I see the features and the name Of more than one, whose rightful claim To man's respect, to woman's love. To peace below, to Heaven above, Through all the long succeeding jesiVH Unscathed, and questionless apj)ears.* ■"•l.iuLMjhf ,■> roadway"— Lincoln Street. *"1 martial Little Billy foi-th"— Win. J^incoln, Esq.^ familiarly call- *'.d "Little Billy'" Historian of Worcester, owned tbe estate now in possession of P. L. Moon, and west of Mv. Moen's lociTst grove, on tiie shore of Lincoln's nond, was :in artifiical stone cave wMth ;uiti 25 I could for one, stand all tlie racket. Of 23rison bars and a straight jacket, So that I walked with conscience clear But one day out of all the year. But yet you see I have not made Of reputation, stock in trade, And thus the only loss to me Would be my curtailed liberty. But I say this. Short termed Hell tires Deserved our harsh, relentless sires. Who dealt to decency a blow In nnirdering Tim Bigelow.* You doubt now if they were my sires. Two hundred j'-ears, and more, their iires Have blazed upon New England hearths: Two hundred years their curling smoke Has helped old Worcester's hills to cloak:* But not for that my honest wrath Shall hide in sentimental plight Where cold hearts have abused the right. I grant them hardy, brave and bold. And law abiding as could be, But those stern, pious hearts w-ere cold. As morning in an Arctic sea. ^••Jn inurdevi)ig Tim Bigelow"— To our lasting sorrow be it said that nur fatliers allowed that strong, good iiian, and foremost patriot, to liic a piisoiier for debt, within the walls of that hateful dungeon which iinw would not be deemed fit for Al West's dog pen. ^riic First peruuinent settler ot Quinsigamond Plantation was Jonas Hicc, w ho located upon Sagatabscot Hill, just south of Cronipton'8 res- iilciu'i-, and the second was a brother who drove his. stakes and pre- (Mni)T(il oil Paekachoag, a little in rear of the college of the Holy 26 Those rugged sons of Calvin's school Had yet to learn the golden rule, Not learned, until at sixty seven They struck hands with a foe forgiven. Much good had they, those grim old bears. With all their cranks, and all their airs; With them a word was lettered bond; If one by chance the ermine donned, His wife or sister might appeal To all the gods the myths reveal. He punished to the laws extent. And never discounted a cent. Outside the jail, with sword in hand. Cocked hat, like colonel in command, . Knee-breeches, spurs, and pom pom gay. See black skinned Peter Willard sway The corps that he alone can see. That phantom of the memory. •'Battalion wheel !" His harsh voice grates From Bellows' Tavern to the States. From Deland's to the Bradley Tavern, From Captain Joe's to Billy's cavern, From Hathaway"s to the Kings Arms, To the Cow Tavern, and so on To Munroe's, or the Rising Sun,* *Delaud's Tavern was at Webster Square; Bradley's at Salem Sqiiare, on Front Street; Capt. Joe Lovell's at Lincoln Square; Billy's.Cavern, Lincoln's Cave; Hatliaway's Tavern, at Washington Square; King's Anns, on Main Street, opposite Lincoln House; Cow Tavern, at the rork of roads beyond Highland Cadet School ; Munroe's was the Long Pond (lake) Tavern. The United States Hot(d was wher(> Walker's block now is. Cor. Mechanic and Main St. And, but so frequent such alarms. The habitants of neighboring farms Had guessed, instead of Peter's fun, Another Tory War begun. A ranting, roaring nuisance he To store keeper's fraternity,* As bidding ghosts their armor stack He swore he would the village sack. Except the merchant man would come And treat his infantry to rum. Poor Peter, often with a dash, The host would treat him to a lash. When Peter's lungs would howl. '-Retreat" I While waving squadrons up the street. '•Retreat ! Retreat ! the enemy Are close upon you — Don't you see ? "* With tottering step, in stockings black. And that white cue a down his back. I see the Doctor in a rage* At witty Weston's miswrit page, Where were the ten commandments writ in, Without a single not to fit in. The Doctor gave the oi-der so. And what could honest Weston do ? '"Peter ^Villard -was aii eccentric negro who had served in the Kevo lution. He was much about Washington's camp at Cambridge. 1 have lieard that liis portrait was, perhaps still is in the Trumbull family. *I have rendered the legend concerning him essentially as I reeeived it many years ago, Whether he acted under a hallucination, or from pure deviltrv, I did not learn. *Rev. Dr. Bancroft. 28 Who that has heard has yet forgot How Weston the gilt tablets wrote ? The same that those west panels fill Withm the church on Court House hill— Twas, "Thou shalt steal. " without a not. And in that wise through all the page. What wonder at the Doctor's rage f How Weston did the Doctor quote When repremanded for the sin. "Did you not tell me Doctor, pray. To be quite sure no knot was in The tablets ? Did I not obey ?"' Another figure dressed in tights. With gold shoe buckles big as palms. One of old Worcester's merchant lights. On whom was drawn displeased attention Down at the old Hartford convention. Twas Daniel, taking in the air On his grand corinthian stair, Northward from the old Kino-'s Arms. Another vision ct)mes to light And looms on retrospective sight. Twas many, many years ago, Word came ''the minute men must go To Boston town, '" upon occasion "^kMien England threat(nied an invasion. And Wiswall's troo[). a little guard Of forty yaliant men in Ward.* Were summoned to the training grounds " AYitli muskets clean, and forty rounds. "" In eighteen twelve, to be a Cap'n Was next the best thing that could happen. To be a Major, or a Colonel AVas stepping stone to fame eternal. But Wiswall was a Captain bold. As evidenced by legend old That runs this wise. His men were dressed In line, and uniform the l)est, And Wiswall with his good right arm. That for the broadsword left the farm. Brought to salute, addressed his men With admonition there and then. I only here his language give. *Tf one among you had not now A sight rather die than live. Let him go home and tend his plough." I hear a Kanuck's step afar.* I see him shooting like a star. As swings a swallow from the hill. Or like the Lurried flight of time. The little Doctor in his gig.* Its precious load it would not spill Although the sulky danced a jig. Or summersaulted, like this rhyme. *= VV a rcl . 1 u) \v A ub u iii . -^"I hfrui- a Kanuck's step atar"— The small Kanuck or 1 anadian xn-sit, was at that time much used tor driving purposes. Tlie Frenoli- nan pronounced tlie word with equally empliasized syllables. ■Dr. Jolin (ireen until past seventy, always drove fleet Kanuck.s. 30 But smiling, nodding, ever flying,* Eode he to the sick and dying. Over stump and over stone, Over turnpike road, or none,* Be the weather foul or fine. Let it rain or let it shine, Mud and darkness, all the same; Through the poor mans cottage gate. Through the portals of the great, Not for wealth, and not for fame, Nodding still the Doctor came. To the Pest House under ban,* Rode the little brave old man. Cheered the father in his fears. Soothed the mother in her tears. Bravo ! Bravo ! little man. Rock the sulky hard as can, Destiny has made its will: That precious load it cannot spill, I have stood on battle field *"Smiling, nodding," The Doctor was ext'V smiling, and toit'vcr nodding. Such supreme good luimor was ready to recognise a neigh- bor's boy, a stranger, or even his dog. *Turnpilie roads— AH but the crossroads were turnpiked. *"The pest house"— Somewhere about 1?34 Worcester was a isited by that terrible plague Small Pox, then less under management than to- day, and a hospital was established at "tlie farm," (see the little bvick building there) where all the patients went to die, unless Dr. John Green, (iod blesshismembry! could save them. The little Doe- tor's life wa'^ a sublime epic written upon the tablet ot a t-onnty"s heart. HI Where the only foe revealed. Were the yellow skin and eye, Pulsation's intensity. Freezing chilL and burning heat. Groans that lips dare not repeat. Glazing eye, suspended breath, The rattle in the throat of death. Wliere in trenches day and night, Scores were gathered from the fight. I have seen to lead the van, Armed with pellet, bowl and can. Men vrith stead}^ step and nerve. Purposes that never swerve. Men who dared the dii-e duress With faces cold and passionless. Where the viewless wing of Death Fanned them with its clammy breath. Gallant he whose pluck and pride Brave the murderous bullet's tide. Battling for the wrong or right In his home or country's fight; Gallant who by land or sea Battles with adversity. Not less bold and not less brave He who stems the unseen wave Where contagion's poison breath Loads the feted air with death. 32 Dreamily I swoop along Througli the quiet air of song. As the prairie swallow swerves,* Deftly weaving aerial curves. With my slant wings keeping time To the tree toads reedy rhyme: Stooping here to snatch a iiy, As the wanderer hurries by; Pouncing on the beetle's wing; Peering where the crickets sing: Catching up from memory's glass Fleeting phantoms as they pass. That -'Old Green Store," must take its place When one would Worcester's record trace. That Old Green .Store, its chief repute Was weaving of a pauper's suit. Through Worcester's scribes I read its lore: ••"Twas first a mill and then a store," But changing phases in a trice It fell to vending cany juice: The cany juice had passed a still. An ancient Medford "sperit" mill. It changed and changed, but ever back It fell into the tippling track. With all the changing, all the fuss, *Tlio in'airi(> sw«,llow,— a Inrd I have never seen decribed, nor lieard spoken of by that or any other name, and have never seen ex- cept on the prairies. For hours I have seen a single specimen sail over mv plough team, describing the nn)st graceful curves, never seeming to move a wing, although constantly changing position, and tlying at a altitude of not more than twenty feet. His was the very ]>oetry oiniotion, moving so slowly, so gracelully. IS'otlnug 1 iiave ever seen in nature in any degree compares with it. 33 Each time the black winged incubus Would light within the Old Green Store And bleed its patrons more and more. I do not thank j^ou scribes — Adieu ! I know its record more than you. Oh ! brave old da;^'s. No halcyon d'Aja. When horses raced the main highways: When Green Street was a Derby turned;* When Grimes the wig crowned judges spurned. As plunging through the ojDen door His mare's heels rattled on the floor.* And, deeming Grimes in dolesome plight, They pardoned the wdld trickster knight. No '-taffy" in the sort of men Who filled the county court house then: They sent a man to jail for debt: A Lunar to a box to sweat; For traA^eling on a Sabbath day The Godless man a fine must pay; To doubt Divinity of Christ Was guarantee to get a hoist From all society of men. *\Alien Green Street was a Derby termed.— Trotting in the okien time was little cared tor, but running races were of Irequent occur- ' nee on Green Street, which gave a level track for quarter horses. *When Grimes the wig crowned judges spurned,— The >Jtory of (.rimes' Court House feat was current in n^y boyhood. 34 With grim old stuff those courts were iilled: By their decrees much men were killed: Some by confinement for a debt: With shame, some, in the pilory set; On Lunar Hill, Jack Frost was hung;* Upon the Turnpike Carter swung;* By Jo Bill Road, Shay's troops were landed. And in a trice for treason branded: On Court Hill, but a little sooner. Swung wicked, handsome, Mrs Spooner. How strangely times our tempers turu; How easy quirks and shifts we learn When cmce the simple truth is bent. To serve a personal intent. But now before the statute laws, I saw men ventilate a cause That stood as 'gainst Some scathful lane'uag'e bred the row. I care not more for one than t'other; No private feud my brains shall bother, But this I marked, instead of law. Each counsel strove to find a Haw - And used his sharp forensic skill. His sarcasm and wit to spill. Until to us "green uns" beholding. The case seemed Butler versus Groulding. *On Luna Hill etc.,— Frost was hung on the hiU where stanvls tlic old Limatic asylum, and until that structure was reared it was known as Frost I Jill. *()n Belmont Street, the old Turnpike, just where thi- school l)ousi' staiids. Carter was executed. 35 At cart"s tail, tree and liitcliiDg post. Was many a thief's ear lopped and lost. By improYisement of a conrt That deemed the process none too short. What wonder, men Avhose boyish days AYere passed in watchful, warlike \vays. Who in the church, of Zion snng. With muskets at their shoulders swung. "Who held that Indians were but cattle. Sliould ignore courts and lawyer's pi'attle What wonder men should scowl on schisn; Who fed their faith on catechism? Who fancied that ])y inner light, Through faith they might discern the right: Who through believing might expect Their names were numbered ''the elect:"' That they in self comn] ending ease Should spurn the faithless Saducees.? I love the man who lores his Christ: I question no man of his creed:* I love the honest atheist. Belief like life is born of seed. And from the germ the like must grow Sure as the clovers leaf and blow. A truce to this long war of sight. Where all is shadowy as nio-ht. *I stvonglj^ mistrust siiicr re-reading- this, that this line heloi Emerson, l)ut I fail to find it and therefore let it star.*'. m Of all the names abliored of men. That brilliant master of the pen, That prince of logic's worse than treason. — For blasphemy in ''Age of Reason" — Drew ban of churchmen and divine From Bum skit to Rhode Island line. But further not for of that feather Was rated Rhody alto^-ether. Oh ! wicked Rhody. what a wall Was overturned by that canal: Our farmers thought, in sooth to tell, Rhode Island bordered upon Hell. But when that sluice was opened through The Yanks obtained a fairer view. And after cautious glimpses stealing With "What Cheer" folk thev f ell to dealing I wonder if the tables turned As by her nostrils Rhod}^ learned That down the Blackstone came a smell Worse than of Tartarus or Hell. A quiet sea that has no tide; Of yore the baby state supplied All but -the pious caid sedate That ever poured upon our state. With nimble feet and canny hearts They taught us all the wicked i-.rts. Be good now Rhody, drop your lidd]e. And help us solve our standing riddle.* *Wegcra-ceaster'i5 ricldle. The sewer problem. 37 Time levels all tilings aud to nie It bids adieu to rhapsody. But e'er I qneucli tlie flick rin^- ligbt That led me back through ancient night. I swing it forward, fain to see The footprints of our destiny. But neath Columbia's noonday skies The countless millions blear my eyes. Swing round again. Ohl Dial Time. And let your pointing lingers climb And count me up the scores again: But numl^er me but only ten. I see a lucid drop in air. A brilliant sparkling in the Sun. It grows a bubble, bright and fair. . More splendid till its race is run. Its dazzling sphere I see expand. Resplendent with prismatic hues: I hear the voice of Fate command: It breaks, and mingles with the dews. Columbia ends in but a name. Though lovely in her margin prime. Though glorious in her strength and fame: All perish, and she bides her time. So much have history's lessons taught: So much it costs us to be wise: With blood and pains our good is bought: By sloth and sin we loose the prize. as oil! that 8ome token might endure Of one great nation sternly jnst, One race to put with purpose sure, In righteousness a living trust. VALEDICTOEY My tender Muse to thee alas I now must drink my parting glass; Must bury in its depths profound My broken l^^re's creaking sound. Adieu! Adieu! My gentle Muse. — My sorrowing eyes with tears suffuse And all my cureless sadness tell While bidding jon a fond farewell. And you Parnassus' frisky steed. Who helped me least when most my need. How oft with rhythmic* buck and bolt I tumbled from thy back, ni}^ colt: As oft, with angry stirrup vault I lashed thy withers for the fault: But now I drink the parting cup. And throw my sponge disi^airing up. Of you if men one thought retain. Your antics were not all in vain. Ye End. "He knew his rosaiy full well And all his blessod beads could tell.'" I was troubled with the suspicion that these lines occur in Maruiiou, near the mention of the nuns of St. Cuthbert's Isle, but I tin not find it there and therefore decline to sacrifice the expression. Wegara-ceaster, the War Castle, was the Saxon oviginal of tlKiuuue Worcester. I IBRARY OF CONGRESS t=i 016 255 848 1 #