The Newtown bee., 1906-08-31

The women sat in silence there
 As ordered by Saint Paul. To sin an ever constant foe
 Was saintly Deacon Beard. While dwelling in this world below
 His God he loved and feared. The Deacon was esteemed sage,
 To kings he would not bow, His prayers are answered in this age
 Some Boards are preachers now. The Bible was the law book then,
 Gods Word, 1t was their guide, None dared before those saintly men
 It's precepts to deride. To witches, either plain or fair
 No quarter would they give, Did not the Holy Book declare
 Thou shalt not let them live? Stealing was stealing then I ween, Not beating at the most, For beatings then were seldom seen
 Save at the whipping post. Physicians; we recall but one
 The skillful Doctor Poor Who from day dawn to set of sun Helped nature make the cure. Doctors were conscientious foes
 To human ills, averse, They never stopped to diagnose
 Their patients depth of purse. A schoolhouse; near the place of prayer
 Conveniently it stood, The pupils came from everywhere Some bad, some very good. Here ruled John Blackleach, pedagogue Who deemed it not sin With ruler and with birchen rod To drive the learning in. The Testament was read each morn
 New England Primer too, While Dilworth's speller, dog-eared, Sound precepts kept in view. Cards were polluting to the touch; Iris said the pious dame With tongs in hand the pack would clutch And give 1t to the flame. Auto and bike and telephone
 And coaches they had none. TrOlleyS and steam cars were unknown When homes were here begun. A sturdy horse could carry four And sometimes five at best, With saddle, billion covered o'er DObbin had little rest. The spinning wheels made music sweet Where'er one chanced to roam, While ponderOus looms the wool did beat In nea rly every home. They sought to found a church and state Without a bishop, king, Or other earthly potentate Who did Scepter swing. They had no use for robes nor crowns,
 For prayer books, vestments, stoles, Each home made prayer devoutly sounds
 As toward high heaven it rolls. The church of England reused their
 fears,
 Twas viewed with eyes askance, Our fathers towards its pioneers,
 Hurled many dart and lance. Some preachers fled across the sea,
 And some in hiding kept, While that fair goddess, Liberty,
 Lay dreaming as she slept. And after many a weary year,
 Of conflict dire and dread, They saw that church again appear
 Without it's kingly head. Oh, did our fathers ever dream,
 In visions bright and gay, That Huntington would some day
 seem,
 As she appears to-day. Log cabins in the wildwood glen
 Long since have disappeared, Wild animals and wilder men,
 No longer seen nor feared. No muskets in the church to-day,
 Bespeak dire danger near, No sentries guard us while we pray,
 We worship without fear. No more the dreaded war-whoop sounds The red men seen no more. Revel in happy hunting grounds,
 Upon another shore. Her hills produce the richest grass,
 Her fertile vales they till, In White Hills, Trapfall, Isinglass,
 Wells Hollow and Booths Hill. Walk northwest o'er the rolling hills
 And through the valleys go, YouIl find beside the flowing rillS
 A lovely town, Monroe. She's Stratford's $ grandchild, fair and
 sweet,
 She's Huntington's first born,