Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1874-04-06
THE STORY OF THOMAS FISH,
1SS4.

III FLORENCE PIRcr.
Almost a hundred years ago, wide
Whi,s Names sparse hamlets were scattered
And threatened still by the savage foe
Where the turbulent Audroscoggin's tue
Tnspanned by bridge and untasked by mill
Unvexed as ii threaded the for forest g gloom
By floating lumber or hindering DOOM
Across the ice on winter DAY,
AZ thickiy the dizzy snow came down,
A traveller toied, on his tiresome way
To New Port Royal from winthrop town
All day long it had showed and showed,
And now the drifts were heavy and deep;
For score of miles he had kept the road
Buried and blocked By the tempesss sweep
He faced, nndaunted, the clustering storm
For only little space away
The end of his weary journey lay.
But ali too soon did the shadows fall,
And the chill gray twilight leave the skies
And night let down, like a solid wall,
Its thick black curtain before his eyes
With weary muscles and straining sight,
He bent his head TO the furious blast,
And toiled and struggled with sturdy might,
And pictured the rest he should find at last
Blessing the way marks that let him knew
The hidden pathway beneath the SNOW
Had he not walked it in dark and light,
Often and often, before tonight!
But the mighty wind, from the bleak north east,
Seized him and smote him and made him reel,
His feet grew numb, and their aching ceased
But the sharp snow stung him like points OF steel.
1t bea. like sand in his binding eyes, uo.,s
And filed his no.trils and choked his breath
And the cold seemed slowly to paraly1e
His brain to drowsy dream Of death,
Stumbling, wading-he rose once more
Dea6ened and dazed by the tempesrs ioar,
Aud yet again through the drifts he pressed.
with cold hands beating his aching breast,
And pulses falfering-while so near,
Only short half mile before
Were warmth and safety and friendly cheer
In the dwelling Of Farmer Livermore.
The farmers kitchen was broad and bright,
And cheerily out on the driving storm.
Streamed from its windows the rudy Light
Or the social hearth fire wide and warm,
But the inmates shuddercd beside the fire,
As the raging tempest shrieked IN ire,
And the striving gusts in the chimney cried
While higher the snow banks piled outside.
Bat nine had struck from the tall old clock;
The ashes ever the Goals were pressed
The door was fastened with bolt and lock,
And the farmers household sought their rest
Long after fire and lights were out,
And half asleep. as the farmer lay,
He dreamed, or fancied, he heard q shout
In the stormy tumut, far away.
Alert he listened-and heard once more
The voice half lost in the winds wild roar
Mufaed, faint on the snow-thick air,
1t came like the cry of great despair
And the farmer, leaving his pillow warm,
Went out in the darkness and strove to hear
In the itful pauses OF blast and storm
Again the voice that had reached his ear
Long he listened, but all in vain -
Never again came tine pleading cry; -
Over the clearing. and wide pine plain,
And he turned again to the sheltering door,
Doubling and querying more and more;
The night is terrible-who would be
Out at time like tnis,' said he,
ITO face this bitter and bleak northeast"
And he crept again to his pillow warm
Il. was but the cry Of z scared wild beast
The wanderers heart grew sick with FEAR
He had lost the road--and he struggled back
Manfuily, stouty-for life was dear
Eager to reach the bathing track
But sore bewildered and chilled and blind,
Crossed 1t, leaving 1t far behind
roundering, plnnging with slow advance
Away from his lies last feeble chance.
What wonler when from his heart was riven
The precious hope he had tried to nurse,
II he lost all faith In earth and heaven,
And blamed his fate with bitter curse"
Gould he be lost? He had passed this way
On many . wide exploring tramp
Had planned with careful and close survey
The road to the earliest settlers camp
And long ere the first log house was made
Had slept In the Forest unafraid,
With curtain of leaves and pillow of moss;
Had rOamed the ridges and swamps across,
With compass and Quadrant stake and chain
And traced and measured, and noted down,
And conned and studied again and again,
The boundary lines of the purposed town.
Was this the end? Should he never see
The growth and glory, by land and wave,
OF the infant nation he helped TO free,
The young republic he sought to save:
Never again would his vigorous hand
Clear the trees from the virgin land
Never with cordial warmth again
Answer the grasp of his fellow men!
Never more should he ford the streams
Or rove the woods of the future town.
And was this the end of his happy dreams?
And thus must his brave strong life go down?
lie thought of the home he had toiled to frame,
The new built house in the meadow set
The faithful meadow still bears his name,
And the halfflied cellar Is seen there YETI
The home that waited its coming crown
The promised sweetheart in Winthrop town:
And did she slumber with peaceful breath,
alone daafhl
And peering out through the midnight dim,
Think Of his journey and pray for him
Was this the end Of his fond desire?
Was II for this inglorious close
His life passed scathless amid the fire
Poured from the cannon OF foreign foes?
Was 1t for this he had dared to press
Into the heart ef the wilderness.
And met and grappled without fear,
The dangers and tolls of the wild frontier?
Was it to die in the woods alone,
Freezing slowly by senseless rock
He was saved in the perils his life had known,
And spared by the Indians tomahawk7
All, how cruel seemed all on earth,
All he had priced, or loved or known
WHAT could friendship or love be worth
Since they left him to die alone?
Empty mockery seemed they then,
Love Of women and praise of men--
False and hollow and useless all =
And he pierced the night with his frenZiei call
And pushed again through the hopeless drill,
And shouted and shrieked with his failing breath