The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1852-09-09
For the National Era

~
be somewhat similar to that of Seedlings on
the Liquor Law p
For the National Era.
MOLLY GRAHAM:
OR, HOW JOHNNY WON HIS FIDDLE
A TALE OF THE REVOLUTION.
BY MARTHA RUSSELL.
A pair of friends though | was young.
And Matthew seventy-two.'
Not long since, it was my fortune to spend a
week in the fine old agricultural town of R
whose rich farms, dotted with heavy old build
ings stretch along the northern line of that
beautiful portion of the State upon which
Roger Rudlow bestowed the name of Fairfield
had long desired to visit this region for as
child, had sat at the feet of one whose gray
hairs had numbered almost a century of honor
and heard her tell of the journeys she had
made hther on horseback, in her youthful
days, to visit two sisters, whom tie stronger
than either brothers or sisters love had lureC
from our native village to home amid these
hills. 1t was beautiful to see the enthusiasm
that lighted up her fine face, and trcmbled in
her tones, as she dwelt on the beauty, wisdom
and virtue, of these beloved friends and spoke
of their sorely tried courage in the days of tht
Revolution, when Tyron and his Hessians aic
waste to their pleasant towns and villages, anC
left behind him desolation and death; for i
was an evidence that the trials and vicissitudes
of long lifetime had not been able to weaker
the bond knit beneath their parents roof, ir
the happy days of childhood Though these
ancient relations had long since gone to then
rest, it was very pleasant for me to go down
there and gaze upon their faded portraits tc
wander over the houses built for them az
brdes-houses which love and veneration, and
perhaps no small share of family pride, have
sedulously guarded from innovation but
pleasantest of all, to find their virtues still ex
tant in thair descendants. Much of the firn
ture dated from the same period. There were
the claw footed tables great armchairs, tn,
cases of drawers heavy mirrors in still heavier
frames and tall old clocks, with curously
carved cases, looking more like sarcophagi il
which Time wa embalmed and buried thar
ceaseless monitors of to-day.
Two gray haired, venerable old men, who's,
years already outnumbercd the limit allotted
to man, were my hosts and though fallen upon
calmer times than their fathers were fair
specimens of the majority of those who perled
all in that grand old struggle for liberty
strongly conservative, not to say aristrOcratic
by birth, but sound Democrats in principle
The professions of both had been such a. to
make them masters Of all local and tradition
airy lore, while the memory OF the eldest extend
ed back to the very heart of those stirring
times in which his father had taken an active
partr-rather more so, we fear, than would now
a-days be deemed becoming in a minister of
the Gospel.
When the affairs of that region were the
darkest, and even kind men shrunk from the
responsibility Of receiving into their dwellings
the scanty store of ammunition collected for
our troops he accepted the charge, and in a
closet, built with much secrecy and despatch
for the occasion, over the very chamber assign
ed to me, their powder and ball found safe con-
cealment.
at was brought here under cover of the
night when all the family save my father and
mother were asleep" said my venerable in
formant. On one of my exploring expedi-
tons about the house, came across this secret
closet, and after satisfying myself as to the
nature of its contents, ! ran to make known
my discovery to my father shall never for
get his look of annoyance, nor the solemn man
ner in which he charged me, as valued my
own life, and the lives of the whole family, not
to breathe my secret to any living being?
During the summer, autumn, and winter, of
1873 Fairfield county was the scene of many
daring exploit rs worthy to be celebrated in
song or story as many Of those which formed
the warp and wool from which the Wizard
Of the North wove his magic mantle Of fame
exploits planned and executed by men whose
names are kept only in the memory Of few
old gray-headed fathers, whose only memorials
are sunken graves amid the green hills for
whose freedom they periled life
Neither was woman's wit or wOmans aid
wanting in these affairs; and it was rare
pleasure for me, with my proclivity to antigua
rianism, after exploring the tangled thickets of
"Gallows Hill, which owes its name to the
military executions which took place there
while orr troops, under General Putnam, lay
auartered in R, and is still Stunned az an
unhallowed spot by all tmid souls, or the ro-
mantle bed of the Dry River - lettering
round "Putnam's adquarters," on the sunny
slopes of Umpowoag or musing over the BIRTH
place of Joel Barlow, poet and diplomatist, TO
come into either of those shady old mansions,
and have each place and scene illustrated for
me. by some graphic tale from the lips of my
venerable friends
Buried in one Of those old-fashioned, deep
arm chairs, with all those timc-honored aces
saries about me- there was vividness and
reality about their sketches that made them
stand out like life; and to that wood and those
scenes the following tale owes its origin.