And on the island shore
The skiff was moor’d, and near the rock
She leaned upon her oar.
“Oh! why comes not Nootonuc’s bark?
The moon rolls clear above,
Darkness and light are like to him
Then why comes not my love?
“Oh! why comes not Nootonuc’s bark?
The lake is calm and clear,
But storm and calm are like to him
Then why comes not my dear?
“What sound is that within the woods
Is it Nootonuc’s tread?
No! ’tis the night owl on the trees
That wave above my head.
“What splash is that upon the wave
Is it Nootonuc’s oar?
No ’tis the duck’s young brood that leave
The lake to gain the shore.
“What is that flash of blood-red light
That streaks the eastern sky,
What if it be my father’s hut
While far away am I?”
High rose a column huge of flame
Far o’er the mid lake land,
And like a meteor of the night
Flash’d far on every hand.
So earnest on the fire she gaz’d
So wrapt Ompoia stood
She never heard her lover’s oars
As swift he cross’d the flood.
“Why hast thou staid so long my love?
And why so breathless now?
And what may mean those fire scorched plumes
That blood mark on thy brow?”
“Thou knowest,” he sternly said, “that ne’er
An insult I forgive;
Nor does there breathe a man who dares
Provoke my rage and live.
“This night my foeman I surprised,
His fresh torn scalp I bear,
His blood the signal of my tribe
Upon my brow I wear.
“Even now, around his smoking home
My warriors watch the fire,
That home was thine, Ompoia, once
That foeman was thy Sire.
“Nay, shrink not from me thus, my love,
I must revenge my wrongs,
Else I should lose in war my fame
In death my funeral songs.
“Now thou’rt the last of all thy race
And thou must fly with me.
No other home but these fond arms
Is left this night for thee.
“Nay, curse me not, my father’s shade
Blest me from yonder cloud,
I knew his locks, his blood red eye
I knew his gesture proud.
“Next to the taste of foeman’s blood
Is thy affection dear
Then fly with me, Ompoia love
And do not linger here.
“Nootonuc, in this little hour
I’ve lived an elder’s age,
So many feelings in my heart
Of grief revenge and rage—
“Oh, dear to me, was my loved home,
And dear to me my Sire,
Gentle to me, yet stern to all
That raised his bloody ire.
“But dearer still wast thou to me,
Thou wast my only love,
But with that blood mark on thy brow
With thee I cannot rove.
“Nootonuc, no, my father’s shade
Forbids it from the grave
I’ll seek my death-bed yonder first
Beneath the glassy wave,”
She said, when on the hill above
A Warrior’s form appear’d
And with a bound the low shrubs there
That closed them in he clear’d.
“I’ve found thee, then, my bloody foe,”
Ompoia’s brother said—
And sent with strong and certain aim
His tomahawk at his head—
With rapid step Ompoia sprung
Before the coming death,
The weapon stretch’d her on the ground
Her lover’s feet beneath.
’Twas but a moment’s pause, when quick
As the red lightning’s blow,
Nootonuc’s weapon left its sheath
And laid the warrior low—
He staid but to crush him in the sand,
Staid but his scalp to tear,
When to Ompoia’s side he sprung,
But death was reigning there.
From those dark eyes that rolled so fair
Gone was the light of life,
No motion in those graceful limbs,
Save the last dying strife—
“She’s gone,” he cried, “the fairest flower
That ere on Bantam bloom’d,
How all the hopes of joy, of life,
Are in that form entombed—
“And shall I live a blasted oak
No ivy round me twin’d,
I look around this lone, lone world
And see no kindred mind—
“What is then left to love or hate,
My foemen all are dead;
What binds me now to this dull life
The dearest tie has fled?
“I did not think when life was young
That this would be its close,
But on the glorious battle field
Surrounded by my foes.
“Shade of my Sire! thou once did hope
In all a parent’s pride,
That o’er each foeman of my race
I’d pour red battle tide.
“Father, there’s not one foe to the
But’s sleeping in his blood,
From Housatonic’s willowy stream
To Bantam’s lazy flood.
“Shade of my Sire! forgive thy son.
I leave this tiresome world,
No death song o’er my cold corpse sung,
No death cloud round me furl’d
“In that far land beyond the hill
Where the great Spirit dwells,
Where sorrow’s stream can never flow,
But joy forever swells,
“I come to seek thy long loved shade,
Ompoia dear,” he cried,
Then from the rock’s high top he sprung,
And sunk beneath the tide—
The following article by Miss Sarah Pierce was called forth by the
excessive intemperance of those times. This Temperance Society had been
organized in Litchfield in 1789, and is said to be first of its kind in
the world.
Ecclesiasticus. 19–1 He that contemneth small things shall fall by
little and little.
SIR.
though there has been a number of very excellent pieces in your paper
warning your readers against the dreadful sin of intemperance and
various means suggested, to check this overwhelming evil, yet I think
the subject has not been laid before the public in such a manner as to
reach every case. Could every person be persuaded to _abstain
entirely_ from the use of _ardent spirits_, the danger would be at an
end, but many are deceived and think they _do abstain_, because they
make use of spirits only as a medicine, originally prescribed by the
physician, but this use soon degenerates into intemperance, of which
the subject is not aware till it is too late to recede. The habit has
become fixed before the person is sensible of his danger. I have
therefore taken up my pen to describe what has passed under my own
observation, if hereby some one soul may be benefitted by my
experience. I have known several women who have been blessed as the
instruments of rescuing their husbands from the gulph of perdition.
Let me then call upon all married women, _particularly_ the _young_,
to note the following rules. Endeavor to make the house of your
husband the most interesting place upon earth. Make use of the same
attractions to keep, that you employed to _win_ the affections of your
husband. If you have not the talent of pleasing conversation, endeavor
to acquire it. The hours of domestic quiet will prove dull, unless
enlivened by social and cheerful conversation. If your husband is
entertained by wit, read sprightly anecdotes to relate. Of politicks,
attend so far to the state of the nation, as to enter into his
feelings and be able to converse on that never ending theme. Is he
fond of science enter into his views, and gain instruction by his
researches. If you have children, keep them clean and under good
government, that they may be interesting, instead of disgusting
objects. Teach them to hold out their infant hands with joy at the
sight of their father, and when their minds begin to expand, teach
them something amusing to repeat to him, a verse, a story, or any
pretty trifle. Above all endeavor to exert your culinary skill at
every meal, that your husband may not be induced to resort to an
oyster house to please his palate. I have known more than one man lead
into the fatal habit of intemperance, by the frugality, or indolence
of their wives. If you are poor and obliged to perform all your
domestic duties with your own hands, do not think, because it is a
_busy_ day, you need not prepare a dinner for your husband. A person
who is in the _least_ degree inclined to intemperance must have
regular meals, and those made palatable, or he will have recourse to
liquor to supply the craving of his appetite. Now don’t let any young
unsuspecting female think, my husband does not need this watchful
care, they _all_ need it. The young men of this age have been nursed
in the bowers of Luxury, and few if any have escaped the contagion of
that dreadful atmosphere. The seeds of dissipation have been sown in
childhood, and it requires care, skill, patience, and perseverance to
eradicate them. Should they have taken such deep root, as already to
bring forth the fruits of death, do not be discouraged. I was formerly
acquainted with a woman of high rank, whose husband had so far fallen
a sacrifice to the pleasures of the flowing bowl, as often to be
brought home in a most shocking state of intoxication. His wife was
careful not to expose him to her servants, but performed the
disgusting office of attendance herself. She never reproached him, but
when the effects were over, and reason returned, she spoke to him in
the kindliest and most forcible manner, of the disgrace and danger of
such conduct, she painted in glowing colours the effect it would
produce upon his reputation here, and his happiness in the coming
world. Her prayers & her exertions were blessed, he lived respected,
and died at a good old age, lamented by a numerous circle of friends
and descendants. And we may reasonably hope that both husband and wife
are now enjoying the bliss of the righteous.
I have also witnessed the ill effects produced by a contrary conduct.
Mr. —— was early accustomed to take a social glass with his friends,
but discovered no inclination to excess, till he had been a husband
and a father many years. His wife was amiable, industrious, and pious,
but she did not know that to be a helpmeet for man, her influence must
be daily exerted to keep him steadfast in the path of virtue. Having
no suspicion of danger, and being what is called a notable housewife,
she seldom provided a regular dinner. Her husband frequently came in
fatigued with business, and finding nothing he relished to appease his
hunger, he habituated himself to take a glass of brandy to give a tone
to his stomach, till in time he became the slave of intemperance, and
from being an ornament to society, and the favorite of his family, he
became an object of grief and shame to his nearest relatives.
Another woman, no less amiable but dilatory in performing her domestic
duties, prolonged her morning slumber till a late hour. Her husband
whose business called him early abroad, supplied the want of a
reasonable breakfast, by a morning whet, till he became a confirmed
drunkard, which might undoubtedly have been prevented had his strength
been invigorated by plentiful early meals.
The _beginnings_ of vice are to be carefully watched. Bad habits are
like the nets which the insidious spider weaves around her victims. If
the first tender thread is allowed to entwine itself around you, the
next will prove a snare not easily broken. Warn those over whom you
have any influence, not against the festive glass, but the morning
whet, and the evening dose, taken to recruit exhausted nature. The
strength they give is momentary, and they finally debilitate instead
of invigorating the constitution. They are the first fine chords Satan
weaves round those he is sure to destroy. You may think you have sense
and firmness enough to command your appetite, but where one escapes,
thousands fall. Tis like the famous Upas of Java, where criminals who
have forfeited their lives are sent to procure poison, if they succeed
in reaching the tree and filling a box with its deadly juice, they are
pardoned. But few have hardihood of nerve to survive the pestilential
vapor; they generally die on the road, and the country for miles
around is whitened with their bones. As the poet beautifully describes
it.
No foot retreating, on the sand impressed,
Invites the visit of a second guest.
Let me also warn women to beware of the same fatal poison. You are by
nature more exposed to its fatal influence than men, your nerves are
weaker, your employments are in general more sedentary, your
constitutions more delicate, are more exposed to sickness and
debility, which seems to call for stimulating medicines, especially
when you are encumbered with a large family and sickly children, it
seems as if nature required support, but beware of the opiate, and the
warm sling, at first they seem to prop the constitution, but in the
end they undermine it. If nature fails under the pressure of watchful
nights and tedious days, make use of rich soups, or other palatable
and strengthening food, with a small quantity of the best wine, it
will be less likely to lead to intoxication than opium. Many kinds of
bitter tea will give a tone to the stomach, and if you find your
constitution sinking under the infirmities of sickness, trouble, or
hard labour, you had better sink into your graves than become the
slaves of Satan. Even on a bed of sickness, where the body is racked
with acute pain, it is sinful for the physician to prescribe the
powerful opiate.
Our Saviour when he bore the heavy weight of his father’s anger and
our sins, refused to take one. The vinegar and gall were given to
criminals to deaden their pains, but Christ refused to take it, he
would not lessen the agony of his sufferings, by an opiate, he would
not enter the world of spirits, with benumbed faculties. A celebrated
divine remarked that he never knew any christian who enjoyed a full
and comforting hope in his last hours, that had taken opiates in any
great quantity. Let me also exhort parents not to furnish their sons
with money to spend on public days, unless they are sure it will not
be spent in the purchase of liquor. Let them be warned by precept and
example, against using the fatal poison even in small quantities. Did
all feel as they ought, did they feel that ardent spirits is the
_deadliest poison_, did they feel that it is the fumes of the
bottomless pit, sent forth by the imps of the infernal regions to draw
mankind to destruction, they would guard their children against it, as
they would guard them from the grasp of a tyger. And let me entreat
you my aged friends to _beware_, when nature fails, and the
grass-hopper has become a burthen, let me _entreat_ you to _beware_ of
soothing your pains, and strengthening your frail bodies with the
comforting glass. When you have almost run your race, will you be
ensnared at the goal. What reproach have some professors of religion
brought on the Christian name by falling in second childhood into this
fatal sin. And though through the infirmities of the flesh they may
occasionally err, yet even that must be followed by deep and bitter
repentance, or we cannot hope they will ever enter heaven. Then let
the sprightly youth, with vigorous manhood, and the hoary head all
unite in one common bond, to deprive Satan of his most successful
weapon, and resolve rather to die in the conflict than be overcome by
the enemy of our race.
A FRIEND TO TEMPERANCE.
A letter written by a lady seventy-seven years of age, to her daughter,
attending Miss Pierce’s Academy, Litchfield, Conn.
[Illustration:
PL. LIII.—TERMS FOR TUITION FROM LITCHFIELD PAPER
]
’Twas far remote, Maria dear,
From kindred and thy native land,
Yet oft and joyfully we hear
From thee through lines drawn by thy hand.
Kind the act, that taught to spell,
Kind the act, that taught to write,
And kind the power that taught the skill
And gave the genius to indite.
When friends remote as distant poles
Whose fond remembrance rivets deep
We thus convey from soul to soul
The secret whispers of the heart.
’Tis by this act, for _well I know_,
That sighing lovers gain relief,
When aw’d by friend with frowning brow,
The whispering quill doth soothe the grief.
’Tis by this art I now direct
My counsel to thy minor years,
Treat not my candour with neglect,
But give it all the right it bears.
And ne’er forget the solemn truth,
While coasting on life’s dangerous sea,
That gray experience writes for youth
And sets up _Beacons_ by the way.
True friends are jewels rich and rare,
The sweetest cordials found in life,
To ease the anxious mind from care,
And check the seeds of growing strife.
But ah Maria! few there be
Who can define that word _a friend_.
Then lock the heart, keep safe the key,
And firmly on thyself depend.
Beware, my lovely girl, beware,
Of those we most are prone to trust,
The flattering tongue that speaks most fair,
_Too often_ proves the most unjust.
Never check the humane tear that flows
When funeral knells invade the ear;
But learn to feel for other’s woe
And aid their sorrows with a tear.
And when thou seest the ancient die
Or think on [67]Halsey’s hasty doom,
This useful lesson learn thereby,
Make sure those joys beyond the tomb.
Never let ill-boding pensive care,
Ever check the taste of harmless joys;
While we rejoice that you’re the care
Of her whom we so highly prize.
On future hopes your parents gaze,
And wish the wish’d for prospect nigh;
When native and acquired lays
Shall soothe them in soft melody.
But should I never see that day,
Nor hear the music of thy voice,
For _thee_ Maria, will I pray,
And hope to meet, where _saints rejoice_.
1830–1897.
REMINISCENCES AND LETTERS.
HARRIET WADSWORTH (MRS. KILBOURN)—HER REMINISCENCES.
Harriet Wadsworth was in a class of little girls taught by Miss Sally
Pierce in 1830 and 1831. This class was a preparatory one to the
Academy. The pupils were thoroughly drilled in arithmetic and spelling.
The latter was studied from a dictionary. Davol’s speller was also used.
There were as many as one hundred and twenty pupils at one time. Every
family in the village took pupils as boarders, four occupying one room.
Miss Catlin was drawing teacher.
The closing exercises of the academy were held at the Court House.
Paintings and needlework by the young ladies were hung on the walls. The
pupils were dressed in white and were given diplomas. Singing and
recitations were part of the exercises.
Mr. John Brace left the academy to take the school of Miss Catherine
Beecher at Hartford. When Miss Pierce gave up teaching in 1833 Miss
Jones afterward associated with Miss Landon, took charge of the school.
Following them were the Misses Swift who lived where Mrs. Kilbourn now
lives.
Some of the girls in Mrs. Kilbourn’s class were Elizabeth Prince, (Mrs.
N. R. Child), Mary Goodwin (Mrs. Taylor) and Mary Brace.
LETTER FROM MRS. GEORGE C. SEELYE (ANN ELIZA JACKSON), GENEVA, N. Y.,
MARCH, 1897.
I was but a Child when I attended Litchfield school and of course did
not appreciate the privilege as an older person would have done, and I
have since. Your letter awoke and quickened memories that have become
more or less dormant, so that now I feel the worth of those months of
early privilege. The Misses Pierce and Mr. Brace were remarkable persons
in every way, _Model_ teachers for those days.
Being such a child I was made much of and was very happy. Boarded at Dr.
Sheldons. Aunt Lucy (as I called his daughter) was loving, taking me in
her own room and bed. The influences in that beautiful home were useful
to us all, for the Foundation was religious. Every Sunday afternoon Miss
Sheldon called all the boarders into her room and read, talked, advised
and prayed with us, not in a morose way at all but in a happy way.
Mr. Lyman Beecher was pastor of the Congregational Church and used to
visit the school every week, generally had one of his students with him,
and held a Prayer and Enquiry meeting. I remember him as a sombre,
austere looking man not a bit like his son Henry Ward. He soon went to
Boston.
As memory goes back I think there was perhaps more true sincerity in
Life then generally than now. Time was felt to be more valuable. We were
happy without so much to distract us. As scholars we did not feel that
we must be entertained and amused. I do not under value amusements they
are often Relaxations that are needful, as Lincoln used to say.
I love to revert to Litchfield days as among the happiest days of my
life. I think Miss Pierce loved me as generally my seat was on the old
desk next hers I was a great Pet of Judge Gould. There was a Julia
Leavitt of Brooklyn, Sarah Lewis, Eliza Jackson I suppose one of the New
Jersey Jacksons.
REMINISCENCES OF MRS. EMILY CHAUNCEY CURTIS, 1898.
In addition to the names of Mrs. Jackson and her half sister I remember
one other, that of Almira Dole who was quite a beauty and quite given to
flirtations with the Law students, which of course caused Miss Pierce
some trouble, she also was fond of playing pranks; once, to the dismay
of her teachers she made a mask of a pumpkin, placed a lamp or a lantern
inside and mounted it on a tin in front of the house. Each of the older
pupils if they were mature, was given charge of a younger one. Though
sister Julia was only about fifteen when she entered she had charge of a
little girl of nine or ten—attending to her wardrobe and sleeping with
her.
LETTER FROM MRS. MARY HUNT (OVER NINETY YEARS OLD).
DETROIT Oct. 3^d 1899
College Ave. 635
MY DEAR MRS. BISSELL:[68]
I do much regret my inability to add much of interest or importance to
what has been already written of the early history of Litchfield; I was
but a young school girl, and did not realize or treasure up
recollections for the future, as I might have done. My recollection of
Miss Pierce’ school room is of a long, a very long room, it then seemed
to me, with an elevated platform at each end, whereon were seated our
honored teachers, _Miss Pierce_ and _Mr. John Brace_.
The pupils were expected to make their most graceful and respectful
obeisance on entering the room, which was acknowledged with most formal
politeness. Miss Pierce was rather small in stature, with a fair sweet
face, and dignified manners: Miss Mary Pierce assisted occasionally in
school, but devoted herself more especially to housekeeping. I have no
knowledge of the later lives of these two estimable ladies: I have
looked in vain for the name, (in the Book of Days, and other records, of
Litchfield History) of _Edwards_ and I am surprised to find no mention
made of that most worthy family, Mrs. Edwards and her two unmarried
daughters, under whose kind care it was my privilege and good fortune to
be placed during my school days in Litchfield. They deserve an honored
place among the worthies of this famous town.
[Illustration:
PL. LIV.—MARY A. HUNT
Centennial Picture. Taken on her 100th birthday, 1902.
]
[Illustration:
PL. LV.—LETTER OF MARY A. HUNT
]
[Illustration: Four-page handwritten letter dated February 14, 1882,
written in cursive ink, discussing personal history, family connections,
schooling in Litchfield, and memories of the Litchfield Female Academy.]
[Illustration: Four-page handwritten letter dated February 14, 1882,
written in cursive ink, discussing personal history, family connections,
schooling in Litchfield, and memories of the Litchfield Female Academy.]
[Illustration: Four-page handwritten letter dated February 14, 1882,
written in cursive ink, discussing personal history, family connections,
schooling in Litchfield, and memories of the Litchfield Female Academy.]
Mrs. Edwards was a near relative of President Edwards of _Yale_, also I
think, _sister in law_ of the noted _Judge Reeve_, to whose unremitting
kindness and sympathy she owed many of the pleasures of her declining
years. Judge Reeve seldom allowed a week to pass without visiting this
venerated friend; and his visits were counted among the bright and sunny
spots in her life. She was a confirmed invalid for many years. This
family were warm friends and admirers of Miss Pierce.
They were fellow workers in the welfare and education of two Hawaian
boys, “Hoobokiah” and “Hope” by name who were at the mission school at
Cornwall. These youths were occasional visitors and were much petted and
noticed: I think Hoobokiah died before returning to his native land. I
can at this day recall his face.
Very sincerely yours,
MRS. MARY A. HUNT.
REMINISCENCES OF MISS FANNY LORD.
November 11, 1899.
There was a house on North St. about where Mrs. M’Laughlin now lives,
with a long sloping roof called at that time “a lean-to.” Some of Miss
Pierce’s pupils boarded there with the family of Edwards[69] who
occupied it. They were so strict that the law students called it “_the
convent_.”
There were two pupils Margaret Hopkins and Elizabeth Sheldon.[70] The
former went with some of her friends to spend the evening at “aunt
Bull’s” on the south side of Prospect St. where Mr. MacMartin lives. A
law student of the party put back the hands of the clock so that when
one of the number took Margaret back to Miss Pierce’s where she boarded,
the house was quite shut up. After knocking Miss Pierce came to the door
in night-cap and gown, candle in hand! Some time after this occurrence,
during her wedding journey, Margaret and her bridegroom met the young
man, her escort, and they all had much amusement over their
reminiscences of the encounter.