in the northern part of the township of Princeton, and is about fifty
miles due west from Boston. The Nashaways, or Nashuas, originally held
this tract and all the land west of the river that still bears their
name, and they gave to this mountain and the region around its base the
name of "Watchusett." Rising by a gradual ascent from its base, it has
the appearance of a vast dome. The Reverend Peter Whitney[2] speaking of
its dimensions, says: "The circumference of this monstrous mass is about
three miles, and its height is 3,012 feet above the level of the sea, as
was found by the Hon. John Winthrop, Esq., LL.D., in the year 1777: and
this must be 1,800 or 1,900 feet above the level of the adjacent
country." More recent measurements have not materially changed these
figures, so they may be regarded as substantially correct.
The first mention, and probably the first sight, of this mountain, or of
any portion of the region now comprised in Worcester County, is recorded
in Governor Winthrop's journal, in which, under the date of January 27,
1632, is written: "The Governour and some company with him, went up by
Charles River about eight miles above Watertown." The party after
climbing an eminence in the vicinity of their halting-place saw "a very
high hill, due west about forty miles off, and to the N.W. the high
hills by Merrimack, above sixty miles off," The "very high hill" seen by
them for the first time was unquestionably Wachusett.
"On the 20th of October, 1759, the General Court of Massachusetts,
passed an act for incorporating the east wing, so called, of Rutland,
together with sundry farms and some publick lands contiguous thereto,"
as a district under the name of Prince Town, "to perpetuate the name and
memory of the late Rev. Thomas Prince, colleague pastor of the Old South
church in Boston, and a large proprietor of this tract of land." The
district thus incorporated contained about nineteen thousand acres; but
on April 24, 1771, its inhabitants petitioned the General Court, that
it, "with all the lands adjoining said District, not included in any
other town or District," be incorporated into a town by the name of
Princeton; and by the granting of this petition, the area of the town
was increased to twenty-two thousand acres.
The principal citizen of Princeton at this period was the Honorable
Moses Gill, who married the daughter of the Reverend Thomas Prince. He
was a man of considerable note in the county also, holding office as one
of the judges of the court of common pleas for the county of Worcester,
and being "for several years Counsellor of this Commonwealth." His
country-seat, located at Princeton, was a very extensive estate,
comprising nearly three thousand acres. Mr. Whitney appears to have been
personally familiar with this place, and his description of it is so
graphic and enthusiastic, that it may be interesting to quote a portion
of it.
"His noble and elegant seat is about one mile and a quarter from the
meeting-house, to the south. The mansion-house is large, being fifty by
fifty feet, with four stacks of chimneys. The farmhouse is forty feet by
thirty-six. In a line with this stands the coach and chaise house, fifty
feet by thirty-six. This is joined to the barn by a shed seventy feet in
length--the barn is two hundred feet by thirty-two. Very elegant fences
are erected around the mansion-house, the outhouses, and the garden.
When we view this seat, these buildings, and this farm of so many
hundred acres under a high degree of profitable cultivation, and are
told that in the year 1776 it was a perfect wilderness, we are struck
with wonder, admiration, and astonishment. Upon the whole, the seat of
Judge Gill, all the agreeable circumstances respecting it being
attentively considered, is not paralleled by any in the New England
States: perhaps not by any this side the Delaware."
Judge Gill was a very benevolent and enterprising man, and did much to
advance the welfare of the town in its infancy. During the first thirty
years of its existence, it increased rapidly in wealth and population,
having in 1790 one thousand and sixteen inhabitants. For the next
half-century it increased slowly, having in 1840 thirteen hundred and
forty-seven inhabitants. Since then, like all our beautiful New-England
farming-towns, it has fallen off in population, having at the present
time but little over one thousand people dwelling within its limits. Yet
neither the town nor the character of the people has degenerated in the
last century. Persevering industry has brought into existence in this
town some of the most beautiful farms in New England, and in 1875 the
value of farm products was nearly a quarter of a million dollars.
Manufacturing has never been carried on to any great extent in this
town. "In Princeton there are four grist mills, five saw mills, and one
fulling mill and clothiers' works," says Whitney in 1793. Now lumber and
chair-stock are the principal manufactured products, and in 1875 the
value of these, together with the products of other smaller
manufacturing industries, was nearly seventy thousand dollars.
Princeton is the birthplace of several men who have become well known,
among whom may be mentioned Edward Savage (1761-1817), noted as a
skilful portrait-painter; David Everett (1770-1813), the journalist, and
author of those familiar schoolboy verses beginning:--
"You'd scarce expect one of my age
To speak in public on the stage";
and Leonard Woods, D.D., the eminent theologian.
This locality derives additional interest from the fact that Mrs.
Rowlandson, in her book entitled Twenty Removes, designates it as the
place where King Philip released her from captivity in the spring of
1676. Tradition still points out the spot where this release took place,
in a meadow near a large bowlder at the eastern base of the mountain.
The bowlder is known to this day as "Redemption Rock." It is quite near
the margin of Wachusett Lake, a beautiful sheet of water covering over
one hundred acres. This is a favorite place for picnic parties from
neighboring towns, and the several excellent hotels and boarding-houses
in the immediate vicinity afford accommodations for summer visitors, who
frequent this locality in large numbers.
The Indian history of this region is brief, but what there is of it is
interesting to us on account of King Philip's connection with it. At the
outbreak of the Narragansett War, in 1675, the Wachusetts, in spite of
their solemn compact with the colonists, joined King Philip, and, after
his defeat, "the lands about the Wachusetts" became one of his
headquarters, and he was frequently in that region. For many years their
wigwams were scattered about the base of the mountain and along the
border of the lake, and tradition informs us that on a large flat rock
near the lake their council-fires were often lighted.
Until 1751, but three families had settled in the Wachusett tract. In
May of that year Robert Keyes, a noted hunter, settled there with his
family, upon the eastern slope of the mountain, near where the present
carriage-road to the summit begins. On April 14, 1755, a child of his
named Lucy, about five years old, strayed away, presumably to follow
her sisters who had gone to the lake, about a mile distant. She was
never heard of again, though the woods were diligently searched for
weeks. Whitney speaks of this incident, and concludes that "she was
taken by the Indians and carried into their country, and soon forgot
her relations, lost her native language, and became as one of the
aborigines." In 1765 Keyes petitioned the General Court to grant him "ye
easterly half of said Wachusett hill" in consideration of the loss of
"100 pounds lawful money" incurred by him in seeking for his lost child.
This petition was endorsed "negatived" in the handwriting of the
secretary. With this one exception the early settlers of Princeton seem
to have suffered very little at the hands of the Indians.
Princeton, in common with its neighbors, underwent much religious
controversy during the first half-century of its existence. The first
meeting-house, "50 foots long and 40 foots wide," was erected in 1762
"on the highest part of the land, near three pine trees, being near a
large flat rock." This edifice was taken down in 1796, and replaced by a
more "elegant" building, which in turn was removed in 1838. The three
pine trees are now no more, but the flat rock remains, and on account of
the fine sunset view obtained from it has been named "Sunset Rock."
The first minister in Princeton was the Reverend Timothy Fuller, settled
in 1767. In 1768 the General Court granted him Wachusett Mountain to
compensate him for his settlement over "a heavily burdened people in a
wilderness country." It was certainly at that time neither a profitable
nor useful gift, and it was a pity to have this grand old pile pass into
private hands. Mr. Fuller continued as pastor until 1776. His successors
were the Reverend Thomas Crafts, the Reverend Joseph Russell, and the
Reverend James Murdock, D.D. At the time when Dr. Murdock left, in 1815,
Unitarian sentiments had developed extensively, and "the town and a
minority of the church" called the Reverend Samuel Clarke, who had been
a pupil of Dr. Channing. The call was accepted and, as a result, a
portion of the church seceded and built a small house of worship; but in
1836 the church and society reunited and have remained so ever since.
In 1817 a Baptist society was organized, and had several pastors; but in
1844 the society began to diminish, and not long after ceased to exist.
The meeting-house was sold and is now an hotel--the Prospect House. In
1839 a Methodist Episcopal Church was organized which still flourishes.
Besides Wachusett Mountain there are two other hills in Princeton that
are deserving of mention--Pine Hill and Little Wachusett. The former is
about two miles from the centre of the town and not far from Wachusett,
and the latter is about half a mile to the north of the centre. Neither
of these hills is large or high, their elevation being about one
thousand feet less than that of Wachusett, but they appear like two
beautiful children of the majestic father that looms above them. All
these hills were once heavily wooded, but much timber has been cut off
during the last century, and forest-fires have devastated portions at
different times; yet there is still an abundance left. Whitney speaks of
the region as abounding in oak of various kinds, chestnut, white ash,
beech, birch, and maple, with some butternut and walnut trees. The
vigorous growth of the primeval forest indicated the strength and
richness of the soil which has since been turned to such profitable use
by the farmers. The houses in which the people live are all substantial,
convenient, and, in many cases, beautiful, being surrounded by neatly
kept grounds and well-tilled land.
In a hilly country such as this is, springs and brooks of course abound.
The height of land upon which Princeton is situated is a watershed
between the Connecticut and Merrimack Rivers, and of the three beautiful
brooks having their source in the township, one, Wachusett Brook, runs
into Ware River, and thence to the Connecticut, while the other two,
East Wachusett and Keyes Brooks, get to the Merrimack by Still River and
the Nashua.
Mention has been made of Wachusett Lake. Properly speaking, this cannot
perhaps be considered as being in Princeton, inasmuch as about four
fifths of its surface lie in the adjoining township of Westminster.
Besides Wachusett Lake there is another called Quinnepoxet, which lies
in the southwestern part of the township, a small portion of it being in
Holden. It is smaller than its northern neighbor, covering only about
seventy acres, but it is a very charming sheet of water.
A brief account of the geology of this region may perhaps prove
interesting. In the eastern portion of Princeton the underlying rock is
a kind of micaceous schist, and in the western is granitic gneiss. The
gneiss abounds in sulphuret of iron, and for this reason is peculiarly
liable to undergo disintegration; hence the excellent character of the
soil in this portion of Worcester County where naked rock is seldom seen
in place, except in case of the summits of the hills scattered here and
there; and these summits are rounded, and show the effects of
weathering. As we go westerly upon this gneiss range, and get into the
limits of Franklin and Hampshire Counties, a larger amount of naked rock
appears, the hills are more craggy and precipitous, and in general the
soil is poorer. The three principal elevations in Princeton are mainly
composed of gneiss. This variety of rock is identical with granite in
its composition, the distinctive point between the two being that gneiss
has lines of stratification while granite has none. The rock of which
Wachusett is mainly composed has rather obscure stratification, and
hence may be called granitic gneiss. What stratification there is does
not show the irregularity that one would suppose would result from the
elevation of the mountain to so great a height above the surrounding
country; on the other hand the rock does not differ essentially in
hardness from that in the regions below, and hence the theory that all
the adjacent land was once as high as the summit of the mountain, and
was subsequently worn away by the action of water and weather, is hardly
tenable. The gneiss of this region is not especially rich in other
mineral contents. Some fine specimens of mica have however been obtained
from the summit of Wachusett. The only other extraneous mineral found
there to any great extent is the sulphuret of iron before mentioned. The
common name of this mineral is iron pyrites, and being of a yellow color
has in many localities in New England, in times past, caused a vast
waste of time and money in a vain search for gold. It does not appear
that the inhabitants of Princeton were ever thus deceived, though
Whitney wrote in 1793: "Perhaps its bowels may contain very valuable hid
treasure, which in some future period may be descried." In describing
the summit of the mountain he speaks of it as "a flat rock, or ledge of
rocks for some rods round; and there is a small pond of water generally
upon the top of it, of two or three rods square; and where there is any
earth it is covered with blueberry bushes for acres round." The small
pond and blueberry bushes are visible at present, or were a year or two
ago at any rate, but the area of bare rock has increased somewhat as
time went on, though the top is not as bare as is that of its New
Hampshire brother, Monadnock, nor are its sides so craggy and
precipitous.
The people of Princeton have always kept abreast of the times. From the
first they were ardent supporters of the measures of the Revolution, and
foremost among them in patriotic spirit was the Honorable Moses Gill,
previously mentioned in this paper, who, on account of his devotion to
the good cause, was called by Samuel Adams "The Duke of Princeton."
Their strong adherence to the "state rights" principle led the people
of the town to vote against the adoption of the Constitution of the
United States; but when it was adopted they abided by it, and when the
Union was menaced in the recent Rebellion they nobly responded to the
call of the nation with one hundred and twenty-seven men and nearly
twenty thousand dollars in money--exceeding in both items the demand
made upon them. Nor is their record in the pursuits of peace less
honorable, for in dairy products and in the rearing of fine cattle they
have earned an enviable and well-deserved reputation. As a community it
is cultured and industrious, and has ever been in full sympathy with
progress in education, religion, and social relations.
But few towns in Massachusetts offer to summer visitors as many
attractions as does Princeton. The air is clear and bracing, the
landscape charming, and the pleasant, shady woodroads afford
opportunities for drives through most picturesque scenery. Near at hand
is the lake, and above it towers Wachusett. It has been proposed to run
a railroad up to and around the mountain, but thus far, fortunately,
nothing has come of it. A fine road of easy ascent winds up the
mountain, and on the summit is a good hotel which is annually patronized
by thousands of transient visitors.
The view from here is magnificent on a clear day. The misty blue of the
Atlantic, the silver thread of the Connecticut, Mounts Tom and Holyoke,
and cloud-clapped Monadnock, the cities of Worcester and Fitchburg--all
these and many other beautiful objects are spread out before the
spectator. But it cannot be described--it must be seen to be
appreciated; and the throngs of visitors that flit through the town
every summer afford abundant evidence that the love of the beautiful and
grand in nature still lives in the hearts of the people.
Brief is the sketch of this beautiful mountain town, which is neither
large nor possessed of very eventful history: but in its quiet seclusion
dwell peace and prosperity, and its worthy inhabitants are most deeply
attached to the beautiful heritage handed down to them by their
ancestors.
[Footnote 2: History of Worcester County. Worcester: 1793.]
* * * * *
WASHINGTON AND THE FLAG.
By Henry B. Carrington.
"Strike, strike! O Liberty, thy silver strings!"
NOTE--On a pavement slab in Brighton Chapel, Northamptonshire, England,
the Washington coat-of-arms appears: a bird rising from nest (coronet),
upon azure field with five-pointed stars, and parallel red-and-white
bands on field below; suggesting origin of the national escutcheon.
I.
Strike, strike! O Liberty, thy silver strings;
And fill with melody the clear blue sky!
Give swell to chorus full,--to gladness wings,
And let swift heralds with the tidings fly!
Faint not, nor tire, but glorify the record
Which honors him who gave the nation life;
Fill up the story, and with one accord
Our people hush their conflicts--end their strife!
II.
Tell me, ye people, why doth this appeal
Go forth in measure swift as it has force,
To quicken souls, and make the nation's weal
Advance, unfettered, in its onward course,
Unless that they who live in these our times
May grasp the grand, o'erwhelming thought,
That he who led our troops in battle-lines,
But our best interests ever sought!
III.
What is this story, thus redolent of praise?
Why challenge Liberty herself to lend her voice?
Why must ye hallelujah anthems raise,
And bid the world in plaudits loud rejoice?
Why lift the banner with its star-lit folds,
And give it honors, grandest and the best,
Unless its blood-stripes and its stars of gold
Bring ransom to the toilers--to the weary rest?
IV.
O yes, there's a secret in the stars and stripes:
It was the emblem of our nation's sire;
And from the record of his father's stripes,
He gathered zeal which did his youth inspire.
Fearless and keen in the border battle,
Careless of risk while dealing blow for blow,
What did he care for yell or rifle-rattle
If he in peril only duty e'er could know!
V.
As thus in youth he measured well his work,
And filled that measure ever full and true,
So then to him to lead the nation looked,
When all to arms in holy frenzy flew.
Great faith was that, to inspire our sires,
And honor him, so true, with chief command,
And fervid be our joy, while beacon-fires
Do honor to this hero through the land.
VI.
Strike, strike! O Liberty, thy silver strings!
Bid nations many in the contest try!
Tell them, O, tell, of all thy mercy brings
For all that languish, be it far or nigh!
For all oppressed the time shall surely come,
When, stripped of fear, and hushed each plaintive cry,
All, all, will find in Washington
The model guide, for now--for aye, for aye.
* * * * *
A SUMMER ON THE GREAT LAKES.
By Fred. Myron Colby.
Where shall we go this year? is the annual recurring question as the
summer heats draw near. We must go somewhere, for it will be no less
unwholesome than unfashionable to remain in town. The body needs rest;
the brain, no less wearied, unites in the demand for change, for
recreation. A relief from the wear and tear of professional life is a
necessity. The seaside? Cape May and York Beach are among our first
remembrances. We believe in change. The mountains? Their inexhaustible
variety will never pall, but then we have "done" the White Mountains,
explored the Catskills, and encamped among the Adirondacks in years gone
by. Saratoga? We have never been there, but we have an abhorrence for a
great fashionable crowd. To say the truth, we are heartily sick of
"summer resorts," with their gambling, smoking, and drinking. The great
watering-places hold no charms for us. "The world, the flesh, and the
devil" there hold undisputed sway: we desire a gentler rule.
"What do you say to a trip on the Great Lakes?" suggests my friend,
Ralph Vincent, with indefatigable patience.
"I--I don't know," I answered, thoughtfully.
"Don't know!" cried "the Historian"--(we called Hugh Warren by that
title from his ability to always give information on any mooted point).
He was a walking encyclopaedia of historical lore. "Don't know! Yes, you
do. It is just what we want. It will be a delightful voyage, with scenes
of beauty at every sunset and every sunrise. The Sault de Ste. Marie
with its fairy isles, the waters of Lake Huron so darkly, deeply,
beautifully green, and the storied waves of Superior with their memories
of the martyr missionaries, of old French broils and the musical flow of
Hiawatha. The very thought is enough to make one enthusiastic. How came
you to think of it, Vincent?"
"I never think: I scorn the imputation," repled Vincent, with a look of
assumed disdain. "It was a inspiration."
"And you have inspired us to a glorious undertaking. The Crusades were
nothing to it. Say, Montague," to me, "you are agreed?"
"Yes, I am agreed," I assented. "We will spend our summer on the Great
Lakes. It will be novel, it will be refreshing, it will be classical."
So it was concluded. A week from that time found us at Oswego. Our
proposed route was an elaborate one. It was to start at Oswego, take a
beeline across Lake Ontario to Toronto, hence up the lake and through
the Welland Canal into Lake Erie, along the shores of that historical
inland sea, touching at Erie, Cleveland, Sandusky, and Toledo, up
Detroit River, through the Lake and River of St. Clair, then gliding
over the waters of Lake Huron, dash down along the shores of Lake
Michigan to Chicago, and back past Milwaukee, through the Straits of
Mackinaw and the ship-canal into the placid waves of Superior, making
Duluth the terminus of our journey. Our return would be leisurely,
stopping here and there, at out-of-the-way places, camping-out whenever
the fancy seized us and the opportunity offered, to hunt, to fish, to
rest, being for the time knight-errants of pleasure, or, as the
Historian dubbed us, peripatetic philosophers, in search, not of the
touchstone to make gold, but the touchstone to make health. Our trip was
to occupy two months.
It was well toward the latter part of June in 1881, on one of the
brightest of summer mornings, that our steamer, belonging to the regular
daily line to Toronto, steamed slowly out from the harbor of Oswego. So
we were at last on the "beautiful water," for that is the meaning of
Ontario in the Indian tongue. Here, two hundred years before us, the
war-canoes of De Champlain and his Huron allies had spurned the foaming
tide. Here, a hundred years later the batteaux of that great soldier,
Montcalm, had swept round the bluff to win the fortress on its height,
then in English hands. Historic memories haunted it. The very waves
sparkling in the morning sunshine whispered of romantic tales.
Seated at the stern of the boat we looked back upon the fading city.
Hugh Warren was smoking, and his slow-moving blue eyes were fixed
dreamily upon the shore. He did not seem to be gazing at anything, and
yet we knew he saw more than any of us.
"A centime for your thoughts, Hugh!" cried Vincent, rising and
stretching his limbs.