Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1892-05-15
MEMORIES OF BEECHER.
TALES OF HIS CHILDHOOD THAT
LlNGER IN LITCHFIELD.

TALES OF HIS CHILDHOOD TIA.
LlNGER IN LITCHFIELD.
Playing Preacher in tho Haymow-Hil
Fathers Enthusiasm for Rod and Lin,
"A Hot-Headed Old Fellow Who Didnr
Care for Criticism.
| WRITTEN FOR THE DIsPATCH.l
Interest in Henry Ward Beecher having
been reawakened by the recent articles Of
his wife, it may not be inopportune to make
public certain local traditions which are cur.
rent concerning him in the village of hit
| childhood.
Litchfeld, the shire-town of the county Of
the same name in the northeast corner OF
| Connecticut, Is an aristocratic village with
| a population of thousand in the winter
and perhaps three times as many in the sum-
mcr. It's broad streets are lined with regu-
lar rows of majestic elms and naples, and
fanked with the smoothest and greenest OF
lawns; it is, in short, perfect type of the
beautiful New England village. And here
1t was that from 1910 to 1926 the Beecher
home was located. The old Beecher corner
is still pointed out on one of the principal
streets, although the family mansion has
been moved q quarter of mile distant, and
forms one of a group of buildings used as a
private insane asylum. The old-fashioned
windows with their narrow panes are just as
they were when the youthful Harriet and
Henry Ward peeped from them three-quar
ters of century ago.
Beecher as a Boy.
Late in his life the venerable Lyman
Beecher revisited Litch6eld, and, pointing
to the cemetery, said: "There lies my con-
grecation." If not true at that time, it
is to- day, although about the town are still
found a few men who as boys listened to the
famous sermons on temperance. The in
cidents which follow are related by these
veterans and came from them either direct
ly or indirectly to the writer while resi-
dent of Litchfeld.
In bygone days one Betsy Collins man
aged the village school, and at least two of
these old men were under the rule of her
rod at the same time as the embryo Illus
trious divine. They describe the youthful
Henry Ward as stout but stocky lad,
shock headed, with a florid moony face and
fair hair. A short Jacket reached somewhere
toward the middle of his back, and on his
temples his hair was plastered down in the
old-fashioned "soap locks" As student
he was inattentive and listless, thinking
more Of leisure than of lessons; but occa-
sionally he would become interested and
surprise the prim old teacher by his ability.
This was most often the case on the weekly
afternoon for speaking pieces" at which
he is described as being "smart as fury"
then it was that the seed germinated which
finally fowered in the oratory which in the
sixties turned the sympathies of the En-
glish people from the Southern Confeder-
acy.
A Pulpit in a Haymow.
In these early days his pulpit power like
wise had its beginning. Not far from the
schoolhouse was barn in which the boys
played. Here he would climb to the NOW,
make of hay a barricade somewhat resem-
bling his fathers piano-box pulpit, and
standing behind it with only his head and
shoulders in sight, would pour forth
torrent of inarticulate sounds, aptly mimic
ing the peculiarities of his venerable sire
Then kicking away his pulpit, he would
roll heels over head to the edge of the NOW
and jump down among his highly satisfied
and appreciative audience.
Both Henry Ward Beecher and his sister,
the author of "Uncle Toms Cabin" were
born in Litchfeld. Their father was man
of decided opinions as we'll as ability, and
was accustomed to do pretty much as he was
inclined without regard to the thoughts of
the elders and prominent pillars of his
parish. To relieve the monotony of his
regular duties he was accustomed to lure
with rod and line the fnny tribe, a sport in
which he greatly delighted 1t is claimed
that not infrequently while fishing at "The
Pond" a mile away, he would forget all
about an afternoon service, and would re-
member it only when he heard the ringing
of the bell. Then he would urge his staid
old nag to an unheard-of pace, and rush
into the church breathless and annoyed,
even on one occasion
Pulling = Fish From His Pocket
as he ascended the pulpit steps One
day he was casting for trout not far from an
road, when he was interrupted |
by one of the deacons. This grave old man
with his pastor, saying that |
such recreation was not even respectable; to |
which the independent parson, as he drew |
forth glistening beauty, replied, "then I'll |
make it respectable"
Of his sermons the schoolmates of his |
illustrious children do not remember much. |
But they were vivid and realistic, and full
of sulphur, and burning lakes may be i'm
agined from the fact that one of these old |
gentlemen recalls that "they scared even us
boys like thunder"
Fishing was not the only fault of this old
New England divine who was wont to e1-
hort his people "to do as he said, not as he
did," he also played the fiddle Dyspepsia
was one of his foes, and when his digestive
organs would become unusually intractable,
he would withdraw himself to his study, |
and there in solitude would saw forth
dolorous tunes never heard before, and the
plaintive groanlngs and grindings of his
stomach would be soothed by the doleful !
music of his violin. T. c. B.