The Newtown bee., 1888-06-01
WOODBURY.


 WooDBURY. In our last letter. we mentioned some Woodbury poets. One of them, the doc tor and Dean of our little band. responds | as follows:
 The Echo returns
 Such as it receives;
 To him who sends kindness,
 The same Echo gives. The Newtown BEE flew by my ear It gently hummed, ''YOu need not fear, ! come to have friendly meeting, The historic poet sends you greeting" From Maine, the Old Historian came And chose his dwelling on the plain. Since he's so good, his sainted verse The birthstone storm it may dispcrsc. Ten righteous men, could they've been found In SodOm's vale, she'd not been burned. Now Pm no judge of felloW-kind And yet I'll dare to speak my mind. From Waramaug to Kettletown, There's none his equal to be found; And no ten mon, that there you'll find, Can equal his HOmcric mind. But wantonness within our vale Methinks as now, did neer prevail; He might do well, to think of Lot, And leave before ii gets too hot I would not scare with image dire, But it's Holy Writ, birthstone and fire A Upon the "Cities of the Plain.' God bless our old Historian! Like me, he ShunS the ''hauntS of men, For hunts place, in proper speech, To chew, and smoke, and drin<-and such. When not in court, you him will find At.Office work with kecncSt mind. The modest sage conceals his name; 'Tis written on the scroll of fame. He can't be ''Namclcss," ask you why? He's carved a name that cannot die; Such wealth of talents, rarely given, Demands a large return to Heaven. G. II. A. Dr T. NJ. Bull took Ca header from his bicycle, last week and dislOcated his shoulder.
 The local editor of the Waterbury Re publican reports: ''it seems that bustles are made in WOodbury. Why so impOr- tant an article as the hustle should be made ill so retired place is a mystery.' We see no mystery at all. As the hustle is not now exposed to the public view, we think it very appropriate that it should be made in a retired place. But, as the lady of the White House is said to have discarded it's use, it will now prob ably cease to be made anywhere.
 Car Wint0n has been to Dr North in Waterbury and had the broken bones in | his hand reset.
 Bishop Williams is expected at St. Paul's church, the first Sunday in June. | Several await confirmation.
 Mrs L. M. Sherman nearly lost her house by fire, last week. The neigh bors rallied and put it out.
 Messrs Strong and Gordon will lead a selected choir, Memorial day.
 Samuel Anthony has moved to Anson- ia.
 Summer boarders will begin to arrive at the Parker House, June |.
 Capt and Mrs Addison Lyon of Chicago are expected to arrive at Theodore Jud- son's, June /. The captains first wife was daughter of the late Barlow Rus. sell. The present Mrs Lyon was Miss Goodale. cousin of Mrs JudsOn. | c. F. Allen will continue the manu fracture of bustles, notwithstanding its repudiation in high quarters, it is said. Miss Julia Marshall is greatly improv ing her residence for the reception of the scattered members of the family, who will spend the Summer with her. It i. singular that other New York families do not seek Summer homes in our beau, tiful and healthful valley. It is only miles to the railroad and most beauti full drive.
 The W. c. T. U. held their last meeting at Mrs George P. Aliens.
 Our old friend, a former resident, Joh1 W. Rogers, lost $50 watch, last week stolen from his bedroom. The old jus tice says, ''He would rather have givel it away than to have it taken by stealth It was of evil example to others in lillt manner to offend"
 The citizens and Trowbridge post cele : brated Memorial day ina creditable man her.
 Ralph Judson, who nearly perished q his barn on Hooppole hill during tn March blizzard, is building house there He would not like to repeat his expert ence i'll his barn.
 And while in Life's late afternoon
 Where cool and long the shadows grow, l walk to meet the night that soon
 Shall shape and shadow overflow, | cannot feel that thou art far, | Since near at hand the angels are; | And when the sunset gates unbar, Shall not see thee waiting stand, , | And, white against the evening star, | The welcome ot thy beckoning hand.
 -Snow Hound.