Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1884-10-24


At that time Plymouth had population Of
about twelve hundred, chiefly supported by
foreign trade and the fisheries The whale
fishery was carried on to some extent mainly
in small sloops and schooners, along the
neighboring shores, not more than days
sail from home. The stream of water run
ming through the town, now vexed by the
wheels of industry, flowed unobstructed to
the sea- except by a single corn mill, and a
fulliDg mill which fulled the cloth manufac-
tured in the houses of the inhabitants. In
comparison with the quiet fields and woods
surrounding my old home, Plymouth seemed
full Of hustle and excitement. Amidst its
novel scenes and my family cares my old love
became chilled upon its surface, though, as
it afterward proved, flowing deep and strong
beneath, as the brook runs on below the crust
of ice by which it is concealed.
In 1880 my first child, William, was born,
and in 1882 my second, named Elkanah after
his grandfather, son of George Watson, who
came to Plymouth from England in 1886.
In the autumn previous to the birth of my
second child my husband died, leaving me
with a family OF four sons-John, fifteen
years of age, George thirteen, William, one
year old, and Elkanah, an infant. The first
two were children by MIR. Watson's first wife.
The season Of sorrow through which passed
after the death of my husband, whom dur
ing the three years Of our married life l had
grown to love, was fully occupied by family
cares. From the burden of these, however,
WAS somewhat relieved by the thoughtful
attentions of my step sons, for whom had
formed an attachment only less than that
which felt for my own children.
My youngest child was, as l have said, an
infant, and my good health and vigorous
constitution, which afforded me a more ex-
uberant supply of maternal food than my
nursing child required were the means of
evolving the next important incident in my
eventful life. 1t happened that soon after
the death of my husband, Colonel Isaac Lo-
throp Of Plymouth, lost his wife, who died
in giving birth to a child which thus became
motherless. Our families had long been in.
innate, and after the idea had once suggested
itself, did not long hesitate to offer to nurse
the Lothrop infant with my own. Colonel
Lothrop was two years younger than myself,
l being at that time twenty seven and he
twenty five. Mr.. Watson having been TWEEN
ty-seven years older, l hardly looked upon
Colonel Lothrop as contemporary, and new
er thought of him as a possible husband. In
the lives OF all of US, however, there seem to
be special providences, and in our small COM
munity two families in the same social circle
had been stricken by the hand of death, one
left without husband, and the other with
out wife. The circumstance, too that 1
was acting vicariously in the capacity of
mother to his child dou ubtless had some influ-
ence on the mind of Colonel Lothrop. His
frequent visits to see his child, who with its
attendant had been installed in my house,
brought us in confidential relations, and has
tened an event which soon saw was inevita-
ble. The death of the child, which was an
only one, and our communion OF sympathies
added still further in its consummation. Two
years later, in 1874, became his wife, and
moved into his house opposite the head of
Queen street, in Plymouth, which had been
built by his father, Major Isaac Lothrop, in
1903. The father was a descendant in the
fourth generation from Rev. John Lothrop
pastor Of the Southwark church, in London,
now fourishing as the parent Congregational
church of England, who came to New Eng
land in 1884, and settled in Scituate.
Thus far in life had reason to take pride
in my matrimonial connections, and in the
social position had occupied. l was bless
ed with an abundance of this worlds goods,
and surrounded with every comfort and lux
ury conducive to happiness. My husband
was man respected by his reighbors and
friends, and occupied the position of justice
of the court of common pleas. The life l
led under his roof was like the lives of most
mothers and wives, aud beyond the birth of
five children, and the performance of duties
incident to a large family, nothing occurred
until the death of my husband in 1850 to
break its monotony. The loss of my husband
added another blow to my naturally buoyant
spirits, thus for third time stricken with
sorrow, as l had been accustomed to look
back on the rupture of my engagement with
Mr.. Hobart as my first widowhood.
L. - a.
and my only remaining duty in life seemed to
be the education of my children and the pro-
motion OF their welfare. The aged mother
of my husband was an inmate of my house
hold, and on his death-bed 1 had made to
him the promise that / would be her protec-
tor in what remained to her of life. In the
performance of this promise my responsible
tiles we're increased, but taught myself to
look upon every act of tenderness toward
her as the best tribute 1 could pay to the
memory of her son.
As the freshness of my grief wore away,
and the image of my husband, with whom /
had passed many happy years, reoeded into
the past, the memory of him whom l had
first loved would often rise in my mind.
Since the time we parted, twenty-three years
before, had never seen him nor heard di-
rectly from him. l knew that he had stud
"
settled in Fairfield, in the state of Connect
cut. Now began to wonder what his jour.
ney through life had been whether his path
had been strewn with flowers or had proved
the rugged road over which so many are
obliged to pick their weary way. Had he
been happy had he ever thought of me
had he ever in his dreams seen visions of her
whom he had once loved, as l had so often
seen visions of him? These were questions
which found myself oftener aud oftener, as
time passed by, endeavoring to answer in q
way to satisfy my hopes and allay my fears.
But whenever these thoughts occurred to my
mind l sought to silence them, and finally
settled down in seeming forgetfulness of the
past. But Providence was still directing my
steps, and these passing reveries proved TO be
premonitons of the future.
About year after the death of my hus.
band was summoned one day into my par.
lor to meet a gentleman who wished to sec
me. know not why, but the vision of my
| dreams at once swept by. went below, and
the vision, now a reality, stood before me.
With smiling face and cheerful greeting, he
whom had first and only deyoiedly loved
met me as If it were only yesterday we had
| parted, and had expected his arrival. The
first words which he spoke melted the ice
which had so long incRsed my love, and
found the stream still flowing as strong and
pure and sweet as ever. During all these
years it had sped its way unseen and un.
known, but was now once more revealed tC
the light of day. As he pressed me tc
his heart felt the current of sympathy and
love passing between us, as sometimes the
electric spark passes in a completed circuit
from hand to hand. Words were not neces
sary to convey our meaning. Without mo
tion of our lips he had asked, Do you love
me still ? and had answered, Yes. He ther
told me of his life. He had married as | had
heard, had two children, a daughter Eller
and a son John, and had lost his wife neal
the time of my husbands death. He wal
still at Fairfield, had acquired competency
and was living in comfort and ease. He haC