The Newtown bee., 1909-04-23
The Newtc."Ta:! Sec Newtown, Friday, April 93. 1909,
Washington

NaSnlnetOl.
 WILLIAM GOULD BRINsMADE. January 2l, ls5S-DeCember 8. 1908
 Prom the Ridge Recorder.
 The hlll, cn whose lower southern slope The Ridge waS built, used to le called the "lsland," by reason of the brook that runs between, 1t and the village on the one side, and the brook shat generally rms dry he- tyeeen il anu the wooded rise Of Bell Fill on the other. It was . sandy meadow with one lone apple tree CI tie top Of the Plll. Yet aIwGys from the day the main house wa flnishol there was q certain air Ls mclhhw C0ntentment about the pi, .. Hills sheltered 1t on the east ahd north, groves of trees went rouE! 1t on three sides. As years went by the lawn grew greener, the sll' ilbGry thicker, the shingles took on a walm- CT weather-stain. It was always wonderful place for woo !-ilirnshG5, New buildings were added, the Cha. Lin in 1902, the Colton d Ipe Union Ciub-H0use in 1905. ihe Gymnasium in 1906. The spaces between tae pillars of the vide Ridge piazza berame jc 'eened with C .'eeping vines. The house within soon took to itself that personal at- mosphere which no architecture or decorative scheme ever furnishes. It resides in no single detail. 1t IS the slow work of characters, tastes and habits. It spoke f.om toe piled and crowded desk in the office, the books and chairs ih the living room, the pug-dog asleep by the open fire. It loId of the owners liking fir old fashioned furniture and for the memories of his friefaihers. His af- fecron fo" the place was so great that he was never away from it longer than he could help. it was the none ut the present writer for the t;"e years from 1895 10 l5cl. and still seems most like one. The me,ncry of those years. 'e- daily contact with a man who had found the sc'!et of doin.; justice VI hout provoking hostility, is still an un- fading and perpetua, lesson, easier to i"aln than to practice.
 The random "reminiscences and fragmer { of verse below are clipped f: :nl a number of ti.e Record of some .ears back. 1ae three writers were at the Ridge in years when knew it best. It Is probably no breach cf confidence to state that the Kent" who .imbed into a cer- tain little window is the "P. K. B." of tI.e verses:
 Here on this bridge we often met, sometimes secretly, and, with other hunters from the Gunnery, stole away and joined Hank Rowe for a coon hunt. Those escapades, with now and then treed coon, always a midnight supper off in the woods somewhere around a cracking fire, after which we returned, stole in the i pantry window, up the back stairs, lodged the squeaking stair on the last flight, and tumbled into bed in the dark, are never to be forgotten. Often MT Brinsmade detected us, not always. But when Kent, finding the pantry door locked, climbed out a. gain and up the metal ladder, and in- to certain little window, where he stuck, hanging by the heels until MT Brinsmade came and rescued him Ind we below Gk to the woods and slept there. The next day We were called to the office for an afternoon where MT Brinsmade looked very stern behind his desk. We did not think that then he was inwardly laughing at us.
 "As we turn to go back we meet MT Brinsmade going after the mail. We stop for a minute and as we talk of the old times, we feel again how much we love the Ridge, and inde6n- itely, why we love it so. Then we pass on, down into the little runnel again, across the bridge, beneath the butternut trees, and up the tar walk. We are still thinking of the old days, those days that come only once. We hear the Gunnery bell, as we heard it years ago. Or was it only yesterday? We see the fellows to lunch; We remember that there was no 'Chapin' CT 'Colton,' no Union or gymnasium; when ye were all happy In the one large house. where there always was, and still is, so they say, plenty of room. We think of the ball games, :le coon i hunts, the trapped muskrats. lienry's hound running rabbits over the Tr;angle and all he iays s2eht in the,r u Us ;.Ld aelds.
 Hamilton Gih-nn. "A gambrel roof among the trees, A pillared porch, the hum of bees A chestnut grove below the hill, A laughing brook and messy Till, An old gray bridge that spans above What is there then that I should
 love-
 P K. R., Rome, Christmas Eve.
 Those of us who have passed on and out from the portals of that lit- tie Connecticut school, may realize in 1 sense, how many dreams of young | CT days, fed by romance of those old | hills at twilight, have lighted this i little hour on two, and gone. Who c,rld bn oI t:a; old Y llamy roof at sunset of a pure day and not dreJm7 S,u U,t,. tbn ,,root i