Chapter XII: Part 12

The compositions, and the music, previously prepared, were
providentially of a character suited to the occasion, exciting nothing
like trifling and levity, yet so good as highly to interest and engage
the attention of the audience. Some of the pieces read displayed a
brilliancy of imagination and a depth of thought rarely exhibited by
young school misses.—

Miss M. Wadsworth and Miss J. Seymour, of this town, received diplomas
of having completed to the satisfaction of their instructors, the
whole course of studies pursued at the Academy.

The first prize was awarded to Miss H. Smith of Hanover, Mass.—prizes
were also awarded to Miss J. Reynolds, of N. Y; Miss E. Beman of Troy;
Miss G. C. Lindsley of Washington D. C; Miss E. Deniston of Blooming
Grove, N. Y.; Miss M. Wadsworth, and Wm. Norton.

The evidences of improvement, and of diligent attention to the studies
and rules of the school, must have been highly gratifying to the
parents and friends of the young ladies. The exhibition of music was
good, and gave evidence of much improvement in this polite branch of
education. The display of drawings and paintings bore strong marks of
improvement and diligence on the part of those who attended to this
art. Upon the whole, all the services of the evening gave pleasing
evidence that there has been no falling off, either on the part of the
instructors or the pupils, connected with this valuable school; and we
believe that no previous exhibition ever gave greater satisfaction to
the friends of female education.

Copied from Litchfield County Post of April 24, 1828.

1829.
LITCHFIELD FEMALE ACADEMY.

The Summer Term of this Institution commences on the 13^{th} of May
next. Tuition—ten or twelve dollars for the term, according to the
studies pursued.

For a single quarter, six dollars.
Litchfield April 23 45

Advertisement from the Litchfield Enquirer Thursday April 30, 1829

[_Notice of Beginning of Term in Litchfield Enquirer, Nov. 5, 1829._]

“LITCHFIELD FEMALE ACADEMY.”

“_The Winter Term_ of this Institution will commence on _Wednesday
Nov. 25^{th}_. Tuition in the higher branches, ten dollars for the
term; in the lower, eight dollars, seventy-five cents. For a single
quarter, six dollars.”

“October 27.”

SCHOOL BILL.
Miss Grant
Tuition, winter term,—— $8.75
School expenses .42
——
$9.17
Rec’d payment
JOHN P. BRACE
Litchfield, April 20^{th}, 1829

AN INDIAN BALLAD.

By Mr. John P. Brace.

There is a lone and quiet lake,
Near Bantam’s peaceful stream
Upon whose waters brightly bask,
The sun’s first morning beam—

Gay is the green upon its hills,
And gay its sparkling waves;
And gaily in their glassy tide
The moon her image laves—

Alone amid its green it lies,
Its waves as brightly blue
As woman’s eyes in mildest hours;
Like that as quiet too—

Once were its hills a forest huge,
Its swamps a tangled scene,
But cultivation’s hand has lower’d
Its oak clad hills so green.

Where once the chestnut sought the breeze,
Where solemn waved the pine,
The tall corn smiles in brighter green
The russet hay-cocks shine—

Slow changed the peaceful wave from once
When not a hand had dar’d
To clear the tangled forest glades
And not a field was bar’d—

Sometimes its mirror would reflect
The red man’s bark canoe.
Sometimes amid its tangled shade
The deer looked wildly through.

’Twas long before that fated hour
When first the white man came,
Nootonuc, on its oak clad hills—
Pursued his wonted game.

No aim like his the tomahawk sent,
Like his none bent the bow,
And none so swift across the lake
Could dart the light canoe—

His form ’twas like his native pines,
Erect his manly grace,
And in his hardy mind there beamed
The courage of his race.

The morn had decked the eastern sky
When on the Bantam lake
Nootonuc’s birch canoe was seen
The glass like wave to break—

He passed the low and swampy mouth
Of Bantam’s sluggish tide,
And near the pine clad eastern shore
His bark was seen to glide.

Why did he slack his swift career
Upon the eastern shore?
Was it to see the bright sun’s rays
The blue wave silvering oer—

’Twas not to view the sun’s bright rays
Silvering the curling wave,—
Far other thoughts then swelled his breast
And fir’d his courage brave—

And yet the scene might well have stopt
Nootonuc’s rapid course;
Might well have filled a nobler mind
With beauty’s gladdening force.

The rising sun just fringed the clouds,
Just tinged the eastern pines,
While on the pebbly shore beneath
The darkness still reclines.

The tall dark pines in lengthened shade
Reposed upon the lake,
While oft beneath their gloomy tops
The rising light would break—

In broad expanse to westward lay
The still dark bosom’d tide,
While many a point, in splendour drest,
Rose gay on every side—

The wave beneath its brightening banks
Reposed so silently,
’Twas like the sleep that infants feel
When friends are smiling by—

No ripple broke the mirror there,
No mark the tide defaced,
Save the long track the swift canoe
Upon the surface trac’d—

Nootonuc gazed a moment there,
Then to the beach he turned,
And long before the boat had stopp’d
The lagging wave he spurn’d—

For on the shore a form there stood
Than morning light more dear;
Beneath whose feet the wavelets slept
A mirror light and clear—

“Oh land not here,” Ompoia said,
“My love, oh! land not here;
My father stern will see thy bark,
E’en now his voice I hear—

“His eye is like the eagle’s ken,
His arrow like his flight:
And he has sworn to take thy life,
Oh! haste with morning’s light.”

“I will not fly the face of man
Until I fly with thee;
Oh! haste Ompoia to my boat
And cross the lake with me—

“Seest thou that mountain top so blue
Athwart the eastern sky?
Beyond that hill I’ll bear thee, love,
Where all my warriors lie”—

“I cannot fly” Ompoia said,
“I will not with thee roam,
Until the deadly feud is hushed
I cannot leave my home—

“My father’s anger fierce would burn,
Thou art his deadliest foe;
And not until that hate be past
With thee I will not go”—

“Your father’s haughty threats are vain,
Him and his tribe I dare;
For they will ne’er Nootonuc quail
Nor drive him to despair.

“Upon the Sheppaug’s turbid stream
A hundred warriors lie,
And ready to my whistle, they
Would to my succour fly—

“I do not fear his eagle eye
Or arrow’s swiftest course,
My heart can bear that eye’s proud glance,
My breast that arrow’s force.

“But see, the broad lake glows in light,
For me my warriors stay!
Say, will you meet at evening hour,
I’ve many words to say.”

Ompoia said, “Thou knowest, my love,
On the southeastern shore
An island lies in gentle slope
With plane trees covered o’er.”

“’Tis there when mid the evening shade
The moon rolls bright above
I’ll meet thee on the eastern beach,
Till then, farewell, my love,”

She said. A single bound’s enough
Nootonuc’s boat to gain;
One stroke of his strong oar sufficed
To drive him from the main.

One stroke he gave, when from the wood
An arrow cut the sky,
Tho’ spent its strength, it struck beneath
The warrior’s sable eye.

Nootonuc’s red brow flashed with rage
“Yes, ’twas thine,” he cried;
“For this, ’ere night my spear shall drink
Thy red blood’s warmest tide.

“Not even Ompoia’s lovely form
Shall save thee from my ire,
Tho’ she should closely round thee cling
I’d drag thee to the fire.”

The lake now foam’d beneath his oar
A track of living light;
’Twas like the life a hero leads,
As transient, as ’twas bright.

’Tis evening now, the blushing west,
In amber radiance glows,
And o’er the lake the closing day
The lengthen’d shadow throws.

The sky in brightest hue was decked
While round the setting sun
The gorgeous clouds in mantle gay
Of gold and purple shone.

A light breeze played among the trees,
And danced upon the wave,
While all the splendour of the sky
In bright reflection gave.

Soon as the last expiring ray
The high hills glided o’er,
Ompoia’s light canoe was seen
To leave the eastern shore.

Around that rocky point she pass’d
That midway cuts the lake,
Slow was her course, and still her oar
The darkening wave did break,

How little then Ompoia thought
As round that point she passed,
Whose axe would cut the sycamore
Whose shade was o’er her cast.

Soon as that point was clear’d the isle
Rose full upon the sight,
While on its gentle slope there slept
The rising moonbeam’s light.

Soon was the bright wave over past
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.

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.

PL. LIV.—MARY A. HUNT

Centennial Picture. Taken on her 100th birthday, 1902.
]

PL. LV.—LETTER OF MARY A. HUNT
]

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.

After the experience related in Mr. Cutler’s diary of the jilting of one of the Litchfield girls by one of the law students parents were even more careful as to any attentions paid to their daughters. Sometimes they even went so far that if a young man called three times on one of them they would ask his “intentions.” Mr. Lord built a bowling alley on the west side of the Prospect Hill road for the benefit of the pupils of both schools.

Miss Pierce used to say to one of the girls, “Mary Goodwin, I see inbred sin on your back,” and said it so often that on entering the school room one morning there was a charcoal sketch fastened up on the wall of Miss Pierce herself with “inbred sin on _her_ back!”

This same Mary Goodwin laughed one day during prayers when Miss Pierce exclaimed “Mary Goodwin, Mary Goodwin you will be cast into outer darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth!” To which Mary replied, “Then I suppose those who have no teeth will have to gum it!” Miss Pierce’s house was built for six hundred dollars.

Mr. John P. Brace’s father was the writing master and was always called “Daddy Brace.”

LETTER FROM MRS. ANNA M. RICHARDS.

ORANGE, N. J.
March 18, 1902

I received your letter last evening and hasten to comply with your request that I should write down some of my “personal memories” of Miss Mary Pierce. The remembrance of our intercourse with her is so fresh and so delightful that it is hard for me to realize that it continued less than three years, and that nearly forty years have passed since that time. I well remember the charming circles she used to gather round her tea-table—the repast very simple—a plate of shaved, smoked beef, some preserves and a basket of cake—but the conversation, a veritable “feast of reason.” One of her pupils, Mrs. Whiting (the mother of Miss Lizzie Whiting,) once said to me that she thought Miss Pierce was a marked instance of the mellowing power of age, for the girls used to be very much afraid of Miss Mary’s black eyes. She dined with us one Thanksgiving, her last Thanksgiving day on earth. Her conversation was most interesting, dealing largely with the past. I wish I had taken it down at the time. One thing I distinctly recall. At one time she said her sister, the principal of the school, was so discouraged with their prospects, that she felt they must probably go elsewhere—but opening her Bible, the first words that met her eye were, “Trust in the Lord, and do good, so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed.” This she accepted as a word of promise to them, and a direction to them to remain in Litchfield. It was Miss Pierce’s custom to close her house in the Fall for the winter, but at the time of which I speak, she was staying at home, busily engaged she told me looking over old papers. She died in New Haven I think the following June. I remember her speaking once of Dr. Beecher’s preaching, that when he came to Litchfield from Easthampton, the images in his sermons were drawn largely from the sea, but that soon the everlasting hills furnished them, and that after he went to Boston, she heard him talk, almost with a shock, about getting up steam. As you doubtless know, the lot on which the Parsonage stands was given to the Society by Miss Pierce. I remember thinking at the time how hard it must be for her to give up the beautiful clump of trees, standing upon it almost a little grove, as I picture them, which it was necessary to cut down. I fear these few reminiscences will be very unsatisfactory to you, as they certainly are to me, but they seem to be all which I can recall with sufficient distinctness to justify repetition. All success to you in your “labor of love,” which, when completed, will be an enduring monument to some of the noble workers whose memories the world should “not willingly let die.”

RECOLLECTIONS OF SUSAN SPENCER.

I often heard my mother refer to having been with Sarah Kingsbury, at the school of Miss Sallie Pierce. I think they boarded with a distant relative of the Clarks, whom my mother called “Aunt Bull.” (on Prospect street.) During their stay there Major Kingsbury then a cadet at West Point, visited them, and created quite a little stir and interest among the young ladies, partly due to his uniform and military bearing.

I was impressed with the simplicity of the janitor service of those days. The young ladies, in turn, swept the school room, performing that duty before breakfast.

FROM LETTER FROM MRS. CAROLINE SEDGWICK KNIGHT.

SHARON, CONN.
March 31^{st}, 1902

... My mother, Betsey Swan, was the eldest child of Cyrus Swan, a lawyer in Sharon, Conn. who practiced at the Litchfield Bar. She was born Feb. 6^{th} 1807, and I have heard her say that at the age of twelve years she was placed by her Father in this school. It was her first experience away from home, and of course she suffered from homesickness. She made the acquaintance of a day pupil, Henrietta Jones,[71] the daughter of the Rector. As my mother had left a little baby sister at home it was a great delight to go to the Rectory and rock the cradle of Henrietta’s baby brother.

I do not know how long she was a member of the school. She married at the age of fifteen Charles Sedgwick who was twelve years her senior, a lawyer in Sharon who died in 1882 and who had been state’s attorney for Litchfield County about twenty years. My mother died at the age of 87 in the home in which she was born, married and had given birth to ten children.

* * * * *

DR. JOSIAH G. BECKWITH—REMINISCENCES.

BEGINNING OF THE WILLARD ACADEMY.

In the winter of 1885 I made a trip to Montreal and returning by the Vermont Central made the discovery that the winter was a pretty dull season for business in Vermont, and that the railroad was in no haste to carry its passengers out of the state! We stopped for breakfast at St. Albans, and at Burlington were informed that we would have ample time to take a toboggan slide down the hill on which the town is built, and out a mile or so on the ice of lake Champlain, where sleighs were in attendance to return us to the hotel with our lungs well filled with Vermont oxygen: and at Middlebury which was reached when the short day was drawing to its close, we were informed that the stop was for the night. I found accommodations at the Addison House, whose long wind swept piazzas looked uninviting to the approaching stranger: but the section kept open for winter guests was comfortable and homelike. I improved the remaining daylight to make calls on relatives in the branch of the Seymours settled in that place—at the old Horatio Seymour homestead I found Mr. Philip Battell who was a brother of our Mr. Robbins Battell of Norfolk—while a law student at the old Litchfield School he became engaged to Emma Seymour, who was in Litchfield attending Miss Pierce’s School—after their marriage they made a part of Mr. Seymour’s household, who was then a widower and they lived and died at the homestead in Middlebury.

Mr. Battell was very glad to see a Litchfield representative, and said that I had struck them at just the right time—that there was to be held at his house that evening a meeting of the Middlebury Historical Society to observe the Centennial Anniversary of the Addison County Court—whose first session was held one hundred years ago, that day, with the Hon. John Strong as the presiding Justice. Mr. Battell informed me that he had filled the office of Secretary of the Society since its organization, and that to warn the meetings and provide the banquet were among his duties.

PL. LVI.—THE LITCHFIELD ACADEMY

From original water-color, probably by Mr. Gimbrede, afterwards
engraver in New York
]

I found the members were largely made up of the faculty of Middlebury College, with a number of professional and business men of the city: Governor Stewart, Mr. Battell’s son in law, was the presiding officer, and he insisted in spite of my modest remonstrances upon my taking the seat of honor at the head of the table, as the living representative of the presiding Justice of one hundred years ago. The conversation, after reading the minutes of the Court by Gov. Stewart, was largely taken up with a discussion of the Strong family. John Strong settled the county in 1765: he drove up with his wife and three children on the ice of Lake Champlain from Salisbury, Ct., and took possession of a log cabin, which he had built the preceding winter, in an abandoned French settlement, while out on a hunting excursion. For a time bears and wolves were their only neighbors, but other settlers soon followed, and he lived to see the wilderness blossom like the rose. When the revolution broke out, Mr. Strong took the part of the colonists, although the British garrison at Crown Point had long been good customers and had filled his chests with British gold: And when Gen. Burgoyne and his Indian Allies approached, he rode down through the State, and warned the settlers to fly from the approaching army, and to take their flocks and herds with them—and it was doubtless due to this timely warning, and sagacious advise, that Gen. Burgoyne brought his army to Saratoga in an absolutely starving condition: the country over which he had been obliged to so slowly pass, had yielded no supplies, and at Saratoga he could do nothing but surrender.

John Strong expected to return in time to remove his family to a place of safety, but he was captured by Indian scouts, who bound him for torture in their usual manner. He told them however that they must release him, and take him before Gen. Burgoyne, for whom he bore a message—the Indians were impressed by his coolness and imposing presence, and complied with his request; when brought to Gen. Burgoyne he asked for his parole—which was granted until the “Army returned.” “But suppose General that the Army does not return”—“In that event;” replied General Burgoyne, “you are released.” Had he known what especially good work Strong had done that the Army should not return, he might have returned him to the care of the Indians. Mr. Strong hastened to his home, which he found had been burned by the Indians—he raked the ashes for the bones of his family, and not finding them, concluded that they had escaped to the South, and looked for them in Salisbury, Ct.; they had found refuge in Dorset, Vt. where they remained until the close of the war. Mabel, my Grandmother, was born there in 1782.

John Strong was born in Coventry this State and was the fourth in descent from Elder John Strong of Dorchester, Mass. He married Agnes, the daughter of John M^cCan a refugee from the Scotch rebellion of 1715: he was a wealthy landowner and received income from property which he had deeded to a friend to avoid confiscation, as long as he lived—but after his decease the remittances stopped—his only other child John, was killed in a naval engagement. In 1797 Mabel Strong, Lucy Case and a Miss Dwight, all of Addison, Vt., made a start for Litchfield, Ct., to attend Miss Pierce’s School—They made the journey to Bennington on horseback, and from thence the Rev. Mr. Dwight drove them to Litchfield—the latter part of the journey was made in a wagon.

Mabel Strong made her home during the years of her stay in Litchfield, with Mrs. Brace, a sister of Miss Pierce, and the mother of John P. Brace—her wardrobe was made up after her arrival. The Brace house stood on the site now occupied by the Congregational parsonage—it was painted red when I remember it, and had a long roof on the rear reaching nearly to the first story. Many of Miss Pierce’s young ladies found their future husbands in Litchfield: Lucy Case, married Horatio Seymour, who had removed from Litchfield, and was a practicing lawyer in Middlebury, Vt., afterwards U. S. Senator from that state.

He was very much interested in having a school for young ladies established in Middlebury similar to that of Miss Pierce’s of Litchfield—My grandfather Moses Seymour Jr. drove from Litchfield, with a sleigh and pair of horses in Feb. 1800, to bring home Mabel Strong as his bride; Miss Pierce and Idea, daughter of Hon. Jedediah Strong, whose house stood where the M^cNeils[72] now live, and whose name, then as now, was graven on the white mile stone, accompanied him as far Middlebury; where a School was established for Miss Strong, and countenanced and encouraged by the presence of Miss Pierce. This School had an existence for several years; Miss Strong fell a victim to the rigors of the Vermont climate, and was succeeded by Miss Emma Willard, who eventually removed it to Troy, N. Y. Miss Pierce returned with the wedding party.

General Samuel Strong was a brother of Mabel and was a frequent visitor at Litchfield: he commanded a military force at the battle of Plattsburgh, which he raised by his individual exertions—and was thanked for his services by the Legislatures of the states of Vermont and New York.

He also received from the state of New York a sword of honor, which is now in possession of the Vermont Historical Society.

The General was wounded at the battle, and feared consumption. He visited Litchfield on his way to the South, to spend the winter, and called in Dr. Sheldon for advice. The Doctor told him to spend all the time on horseback, that the weather would permit—The advice was followed, and the General lived to be old. This Doctor was wise beyond his generation.

In 1817 the General had a coach built by Ambrose Norton, whose wagon shop stood on the ground now occupied by the Echo Farm creamery: All the material were produced in Litchfield, and the work was also done here—separate bills were rendered for wood work, ironing, leather, broadcloth, silver plating &c. with hours of labor on each, and the aggregate was $350. I found these bills among my grandfather’s old papers and consider them worth preserving as evidence of the industries which made the old Litchfield a thriving and important town. We can no longer produce iron, silver plating, leather and broadcloth, nor do we build coaches for the magnates of Vermont.

Moses Seymour Jr., and his bride commenced housekeeping in what was then known as the Skinner house, now occupied by the Bissells next the United States Hotel; they afterwards removed to the Marsh house on the corner, where the Library building stands, where they remained until 1817, when the house which I now occupy, was completed for my grandfather and they took possession of it in that year. Moses Seymour Jr. was for many years high Sheriff of the County. The office was at that time in the hands of the Governor of the State—Mr. Seymour was appointed by Governor Oliver Wolcott; he died in 1826. Mrs. Mabel Seymour survived him until 1839—she died at Litchfield—Mrs. Mabel Seymour had three daughters who were graduated from Miss Pierce’s Academy—Louisa married Mr. Stanly Lockwood of Painsville Ohio, where she lived, and where she died in 1878, leaving surviving children, John Seymour Lockwood, and Mrs. Louisa Malin, both living in that city. Delia Storrs Seymour was a teacher, and died in Litchfield in 1887: she was unmarried.

Jane Seymour married Dr. Josiah G. Beckwith who was for forty years in active practice in this town; she lived, until her death, which occurred in 1868, in her father’s homestead; she left surviving issue, Dr. J. G. Beckwith of this town, Dr. George S. Beckwith of Pine Plains, New York, and two daughters, unmarried, Elizabeth Gale and Sarah Hunt. Dr. George S. Beckwith and Elizabeth G. Beckwith are deceased. I have the diplomas of Delia S. Seymour and Jane Seymour—They are printed on small pieces of silk, and give the studies in which the graduate had been instructed: each bears the name of the graduate; but they are neither dated nor signed.

FROM A LETTER FROM MISS SARAH D. GARDINER.

Both my grandmothers were pupils of Miss Pierce.

Sarah D. Gardiner and her sister Mary B. were the daughters of John Lyon Gardiner of Gardiner’s Island. The former became the wife of David Thompson, Esq., of New York, and the latter on leaving Miss Pierce’s went to Miss Willard’s school[73] in Troy, N. Y., and at the early age of twenty-three, died in Columbia, South Carolina, where she had gone in search of health.

Mrs. Thompson often spoke of Miss Pierce and Mr. Brace. She was very young when she entered the school and must have been quite homesick at first. After she had been there sometime she was one day surprised to find her room mate engaged in making the bed, and on learning that the pupils were expected to keep their rooms in order exclaimed: “Why didn’t you tell me?” “Because,” replied her kind-hearted companion, who was an older girl, “I knew that you were not accustomed to it!”

She must have boarded later at Dr. Sheldon’s, for she spoke of learning her lessons with Miss Julia Gould, and in the darkening twilight returning across the street to Dr. Sheldon’s (or Miss Lucy Sheldon’s?) while the good Judge, standing in his doorway watched the little figure safely over. Juliana MacLachlan, my father’s mother, had been a pupil in the school at an earlier date. She was a beautiful girl and a belle with the law students. When but fifteen years old she married David Gardiner of East Hampton, Long Island.

REMINISCENCES OF MRS. A. S. FARNAM.

PL. LVII.—LITCHFIELD COSTUME OF ABOUT 1827

Black crape bonnet made for his widow to wear at the funeral of Mr.
Cheney
]