The Republican journal., 1907-10-31
Memories of MOntviIle.
FRANK W. GOWEN VISITS THE HOME
OF HIS BOYHOOD.


by my father, Mr. George A. Gowen. 1t
is very delightful driving over the Maine
hills these autumnal days and was espec-
tally so on this morning, for the weather
was perfect, so bright and clear, with a
soft cloud here and there in the sky.
The beautiful autumnal leaves trembled
in the clear, crisp morning air, and I
noticed as we rode along that many of
them floated softly down to the highway
in all their richest glory. But where,
thought l, are the birds that have sung
so beautifully all summer long in field
and dale. The spent flowers, the scared
ferns and chilly winds convey the sad
tidings that they are flying southwark.
Summer has gone and winter is not far
away. Beautiful autumn, how 1 love
thee
Zach day brings forth deeper change;
Oh sad, sweet autumn days.
You try to hide your pallid cheek
Behind golden haze,
But, oh in the peaceful sunshine,
The dead leaves fill the skies
Floating, floating, drifting down
Like golden butterflies"
Between Albion corner and Freedom
village we crossed the dividing line
which separates Kennebec and Waldo
counties and my horse soon climbed a
high bill or mountain and nibbled away
at the grass by the roadside while I
stood near the carriage and drank in
the magnificent scenery. We had fine
view of the White Mountains rearing
their heads against the western sky
of beautiful lakes nesting among the
hills and valleys, and now and then of
An oldfashioned New England house.
To reach some of these, however, one
must drive up high hills, and along
quiet country roads, lined upon either
side by the graceful white birches, now
in all their autumnal beauty, in a still
ness broken only by the tinkle of COW
bells, or in summer time by the sweet
song of birds.
There is something inspiring about
the grand mountains in Maine, and in
looking at them one feels an uplift and
a purpose to live nobly, grandly. Oh,
lovely autumn days. AS l ride about
over the Montville hills what memories
they awake in my heart. see beau
tiful face and hear a sweet voice of the
one who bore me, bearing as it were
glad tidings from the sky l feel her
soft hand on my head, as in happy in
fancy, and hear again the sweet voice
of NY sister singing the songs of her
girlhood. l see the happy face of my
brother, now living in far away Cali
fornia, and hear his glad shout as he
FORCES ahead of me on his big sled,
General Sheridan" down the long,
steep icy hills of Montville. As l speak
of these things to my father, who sits
at my side, now hale and hearty at Is
years of age, there is far away look in
his eyes. His mind turns toward old
friends of Montville who are passing
away and his comrades in arms during
the great Civil war.
and rill,
AS they sweep on their course by vale and
hill,
Through the varying scenes of each earthly
cline,
IT'S the lesson of nature, the voice of time
And man at last, like his fathers gray,
Writes In his own dust, Passing away"
Well, here we are at the Center
Center Montville-dear old place of
fond memories where l spent my boy
hood days. What changes have been
wrought since then. A whole genera
ton of the older inhabitants has fallen
before the grim reaper DEATH" and
now sleeps beneath the green sod. The
old town-house, built long ago, still
stands as reminder of other days.
How l used to love to play hide and
seek with my schoolmates around this
old building; and often have l fallen
asleep in my mothers arms in the old
fashioned box pews during church ser
vice.
In recalling these early memories of
Mohtville l am proud to say that this
town was one of the earliest in the
State of Maine to establish lodge of
Good Templars. That was soon after
the Civil war. As child l often fol
lowed my mother to the lodge room.
She was an active member of Fidelity
Lodge Of Center Montville. AS the
lodge was opening she would kiss me in
the anteroom and say: Now run back
to the house and be good boy and
when you are old enough you shall join
this ORDER" How l longed for the
time to come when l should be old
enough to join the order and learn
about its beautiful and impressive SER
vices. Years have passed away since
then. l have spoken for this great
order in many States and in Canada
and have crossed the seas to foreign
lands in its interest, but the memory of
those childhood days at the Center, and
my intense desire to grow old enough
to join the lodge of Good Templars, are
among the sweetest thoughts of my
life.
During my brief visit to Montville l