The Providence news. (Providence [R.I.]) 1891-1906, 1891-12-08
CLAY IN RHODE ISLAND.
He Was in Search Of Health and
Found a Part at Least.
A QUAINT LEGEND OF PHENIX.
job Manchester, Mechanic and Preacher.
In His Admiration for the Statesman,
Expressed His Admiration by Writing
a Poem-It Has Been Found at the
Burnt Hill Farm.

There are few regions in New England
richer in relics of times gone by than
western Rhode Island. Driving about the
country roads one comes upon perfect ex.
amples of colonial architecture, where a
century or century and half ago fami-
lies of note founded their homes. Until
within ten years these estates have re-
mained among the lineal descendants of
the original stock, and It was the to-be-
expected thing TO hear, as one listened to
the home talk at the farmhouse, that the
present owner was the sixth or, many
time, the seventh descendant occupying
the house.
There are inanimate testimonies, too,
solemnly affirming this. For universally,
rs surely a. the old house sets down in
some hollow, seemingly singularly inap-
propriate for a building site, up on some
sun dressed spot will be the family grave
yard where, immutable witnesses, stand
the old slate. and more recent pallid mar
BILE stones, telling in quaint legends the
time those resting beneath laid down their
joys and fears with the final heart beat
and vanished TO the other side.
the latter part of it, many of these Rhode
Island families have parted with their
possessions, which have gone into the
ownership of the Italian, Swede or French
Canadian residents.
But there are those who hold the old
home with the tenacity they defend their
honor or religion.
Driving through the famed Pawtuxet
Valley cradle of the infant cotton manu-
featuring industry century ago, the way
was asked to the Burnt Hill farm.
"Lem'me see," said native. around
whose straw hat the zephyrs of early De-
cember flirted, you 20 straight north
till you get to the forks in the road, then
you don't turn of, but 20 on agin till you
get to the Colvintown road, n you keep
right on over the hill n by the Ed. Girls
wold place N there you ID better ask some
body where to 20 next"
Suppose we meet no one, what shall
we do there ?"
Gosh, dunno"
Men never stand about the streets of
villages alone so the companion of the
speaker spoke also, and said farmer
had just gone up that way, and that he
drove a mare with a bar shoe forward" !"
The frost in the ground made the roadway
just moist enough TO leave the imprint OF
footsteps clearly outlined. "Foller the
print of the bar shoe when you get out of
the villages and that'll take you to the
place on the main road where there is "a
signal board pointing to the farm mouse
lane" advised the villager.
Following rivers, forests, telegraph
poles, etc, was familiar guidance to the
NEWS representative, but to scent out a
track left "maers with a bar SHOE" was a
bran new detective idea. The advice was
prime though. A bar. shoe, be it hereby
known, is one with no opening, but in
stead an unending oval, worn by horses,
whose owners desire to prevent further
contraction of the hoofs.
Once outside the beaded necklace Of fac
tory villages, strung upon the Pawtuxet
river, the mares tracks were picked
out, and on keen scent followed till, in
an isolated spot Of wooded road, there
hung on tree the painted, undisputed
legend, Burnt Hill Farm, Harris Ralph"
with significant, lonely road, enticingly
open to travel down near by. The only
way to see the lovely old Ralph homestead
is TO go up in balloon and look down
upon it, for there is no sight of it,. as one
drives down the lane, till one finds its
winding abruptly ended, and the farm
house the pun0tuating period OF its end
ing Seven generations OF the family have
lived here, genuine old Rhode Island
aristocrats, with money and hospitaiity'
like the mares shoe, without any end.
"Have you relic of Henry Clay, poem
dedicated to him and his letter of accept
anceP" asked the NEWS reporter of the
gentlemanly owner of the place.
Yes, it was there, and at the disposal of
the NEWS to copy.
Where Clay Comes From.
It's history was this: In the summer of
1851 the Hon Henry Clay spent part of
the season at Newport in search of the
health he had lost or mislaid somewhere.
Why people, when they mislay their hale
ness. always go to look for II in some
place they never have been isn't known,
but they do, and Henry Clay was there
hunting for his.
Clay had many admirers in New Eng
land, none more earnest than a quaint
character, known everywhere in those
times, cross between a mechanic Of
good strain and ''Six Principal Bap-
tist," of unknown pedigree. His name
was job Manchester, and six days he la
bored at the bench at his trade, while one
pulpit. He used to drive about preaching
the gospel in different places in Western
Rhode Island. In his own words, Some
times / preach all day and don't get a
thing to eat, and other times do"
Mr.. Manchester composed considerable
poetry, and while it was not as eloquent
as n laureates, was often times fuller of
common sense Knowing Henry Clay
was at Newport. he wrote the poem
printed below, intending to present IL to
him personally, but being disappointed
in this he sent IL, with the following ex-
planatory letter:
"Mr Clay, ITonored and dear sir-Although
a stranger 20 You pefsonally, have for years
been an admirer Of your public life and
course. The accompanying lines were written
during your sojpurn pt Newport, in this state,
intending to offer them TO you at that time
but failed to do 30. beg you will pardon the
delay. as am sure you will freely forgive any
imperfections in the style or composition while
I "A ,sure YOU IL would test the efforts OF even
the learned, and gifted, adequately To portray
the admiration In which your life and charac-
ter are held by an untutored Rhode Island
mechanic. jon MANCHESTER.
am your obt. servant,
In short time the good minister was
delighted with a letter Of acknowledge
which said
ASHLAND, 10th Nov, 1851.
DEAR SIR received your friendly letter
transmitting some verses addressed To me, and
which YOU had intended To present To me dur
ing my late soiourn at Newport. | have pc
rused them att,ntively, and with as much
pleasure a. II they had been composed by the
most renowned poet In the country. instead Of
being the production Of a mechanic, as you
describe yourself.
| beg your acceptance of my cordial thanks
aud respectful acknowledgements for them.
altho' l feel that you have indulged in the