Morning journal and courier., 1891-08-01
Observation-Disclosures GRoUND.

To the Editor of the JOURNAL AND COURIER:
Whereas the spirit moveth us to sundry
places, SO was your correspondent moved
few days since to visit what is to thou
sands of our citizens q terra incognito,
viz, the eastern shore of our harbor.
Who among us, except few who in
youth found their way from the wilds of
East Haven to the shops and stores of the
town, know anything of the eastern shore
other than some wild hills from which our
fathers shot pigeons in the olden time. So
one fine morning took my old comrade,
blackthorn in hand, walked across the
lower bridge, along Forbes and Townsend
avenues, until opposite Fort Wooster,
when hitchety, Ratchet, my old legs
with blackthorn's help scuttled up the hill.
Remembering Madame Lots mishap, had
| determined not to look backward, feeling
that the proper place for monument,
flesh or mineral, should be at the apex,
so took no chances but pushed forward
and upward to the summit. When turning
around what glorious view burst upon
my astonished vision. It was like unto a
translation I had often thought of it as
very pretty view, but my youthful imagi-
nation of what might be in far off lands,
by comparison, rendered it tame. Yet,
after having encircled the globe, and spent
years away, returned in old age to this
very spot, to realize the truth of an ex-
preston made in my boyhood by the late
Augustus r. Street, Esq, to his daughter,
while admiring the prospect from point
near by: Daughter, we have Travelled
| thousands of miles in search of fine scenery,
but where have we found SO beautiful o
view as thiss And think of it, my child,
| within three miles of our own home"
How can we ever thank those men whose
forethought and judgment suggested and
carried out the project of reserving for pos
terity such magnificent lookouts as East
Rock, Fort Wooster and the palisade parks.
May the cup of blessing be served to them
full and running over and may every lover
of his kind utter their name with beni-
sons. There is no place where feel 80
high places. Like the ancient Greek, I
feel that the mountain was Jobs first tenn
| pie. Would it not be well to send detach-
ments of the t'Salvation Army" and other
would-be good people to our mountain
parks on Tuesday afternoon to praise the
Lord (not after the fashion con-
demned by an ancient member of
dear old Trinity in days long
since passed 'hiring one person to praise
the Lord for the whole congregation" but
'slet all the people sing" with enthusiasm
such hymns as "Nearer My God to Thee"
etc. It would suit all religious beliefs
the hilltop would bring the Christian near
er his supposed heaven, the sun-worshipper
nearer his fiery deity, and where would the
devotee of nature find more fitting shrine
than the glorious hill park affairs. Then
again, it would be more in accordance with
the teachings of the Nazarene, who offered
religion to all, "free, without money and
without price, 1t would be temple not
| made by hands and where the worshippers
are not rated according to the money paid
for their pews.
Standing on the south side of the old
fort one takes in the entire Sound, 80 far
as the eye has power, from east to west.
On the north is seen the southern spurs of
the Green mountain range, East and West
Rock, while further on lies the old Sleep
ing Giant in all his majesty. Easterly the
view over meadows and hamlet lie bound
ed by the Lonotononqueh mountains, and
| after rolling away in beautiful swails and
swells, misrepresentation villas and farm
houses, loses itself in the sparkling waters
| of the harbor.
Then did burst from my lips Sir Walter
Scott's description of one of Scotlands
finest views SO familiar:
"Oh what a scene were here, he cried,
For princely pomp, or churchman's pride"
AS I finished a friendly hand was laid
upon my shoulder and a familiar voice
said: ''Still a worshipper at Dame Ma
lures shrine" Turning, with joy recog
nized my acquaintance of Eagle Cliff, the
old residential.
'sAh, sit thee down, my friend, for feel
that you are brimfull of local memories.
eyes," he said, "this is truly historic
grounds. AS walk over these hills there
come to my mind many tales and legends
sof the times that are old and of the years
that have rolled away My ancestors set
tied here in 1880, and have with myself
and my children titled this soil for eight
generations; so I feel I have hand-shak-
ing acquaintance with every foot it.
'Here branch of the Quinnipiack tribe
had summer stockade. Just the other
side of the fort is their burying ground.
Many grave did we boys search for pot
terry, weapons and wampum heads buried
with the warriors. Just about eight rods
in front of us one of my ancestors was
killed by a ten-pound cannon ball, fred
from the British ships when New Haven
was sacked. Ny father helped build the
present fort during the war of 1912; but
back in the earliest settlement of the coun-
try fires were built here at night to arouse
the back country people whenever an In
dian outbreak was feared, or the landing
of pirates, or any other invaders and in
later days to inform the Hamdenites,
Cheshireites and other back townsmen
that the Fort Fishing company had moss
trinkets to sell.
Were there any of the Quinnipiacks
living here in your day?
Not making it their permanent home,
but several families of Indians came every
summer to the old fort "to salt' as they
termed it, that is to live upon oysters,
clans, etc.
In dry weather they lived outside; in
wet weather they packed themselves in
the magazine. There were Asa and Squaw
Asa of the Moll-Hatchet tribe; Henry and
Squaw Lib of the Turkey Hill tribe;
Oliver and Squaw Anthy, and Silas of
the Stockbridge Indians, but Mog and
Dummy claimed to be of the original
Quinnipiacks, the last of their race and
name.
Old Mog was a taciturn ill-natured fell
low, who acted as if he owned the country
He claimed his tribe only sold the whites
the land to till, retaining Indian right to
hunt, fish, gather fruits, berries, nuts and
WoOu Wherever Gu6y liked.
My father found he was losing all of his
young ash and hickory, and, knowing old
Mogs claim to basket wood, played upon
him this game of policy: "Mog," he says,
"these basket makers are cutting out all
my young basket wood; now, L will appoint
you guardian of my forest and pay you
ten dollars year to keep these fellows
away" Old Mog, with knowing look,
said: "Good; ten dollar, silver; good. Mog
go cut his basket wood; leave woods.
| White man old fox; Indian no cheat him."
| Dummy was better natured-always had
few berry-stained baskets to give in ex-
change for coffee, sugar, etc., at the store,
and although she never begged she
was never without a large basket that she
pnt down in front of her when she called
upon the neighbors, and never refused or
thanked the good wife for whatever she
chose to put in. How strange we remem-
Der SO well in old age what we hear in
youth. I will tell you legend of the
Quinnipiacks as she told it to myself and
mate some seventy years ago. will give
| it in her own abrupt and crude language.
We were lads of ten, playing hockey, of
| course on the sandy shore, when we dis
| covered old Dummy in the ledge digging
| CLANS Running up to her, our nimble
fingers soon made up her mess, and as we
passed pond hole, found several pairs of
horse feet or Bean town Holsters, tide
bound. Upon her saying she could make
q oood roaa1 of them we offered to carry