Putnam patriot., 1910-09-23

retrospect. little boy looking out of the window of an old carriage, not unlike that of My Lady Beuntiful in Little King Pippin's memorable history Te him. as to Emersot's bee,
 All was picture as he passed
 The bee remembered the eoIored flower and it's honey; the boy remembered the red-hued farmhouse and the dainties or what seemed such to ever-hungry juvenescence, of the village caravan seras.
 On the e3d of May, 1866, I made my second visit. and on the goth of June of the same year. my third and last l will tell only few incidents of these visits, without trying to separate them in my brief narrative.
 Mir. Martin Leach. who drove me over from the town of Putnam on both occa- sions. was little acquainted except in a general way with the different parts of Woodstock, and was obliged to trust to what could learn by enquiring of those l met in the road or at the houses l passed The first place l visited was the burial ground There 1 found my self at once in the midst of names which l had often heard mentioned. as be- longing to townsmen and neighbors, by my father. Presently l came upon the stones which marked the graves of my more immediate relatives. l recognized al once my fathers pious care in the inscriptions to their memory. His mother was particularly given to the reading of Young's Night-thoughts. a poem more congenial 10 the habitual |. ,t.lx .t r,,raf ,ha,, fa th.. hrisker tone of the city sidewalk, When the scholars of this rising institution stray among the hillecks and grave stones of the old cemetery they will find on several of these humble tablets pas sages from the poet of the Night thoughts. in which. have no doubt. my fathers hand IS 10 he traced. He in- heri;ed his mother taste for poetry and wrote good many pieces of verse n hs younger days, one of which. printed with many others m little volume, en- titled eThe Family Tablet, k worthy ef nete for fhe somewhat peculiar ar fangemem af it's rhyme. being the same as that which was made familiar half a century later by TennySon in his In Nemoriam
 was. of course. on the look out for aged persons of whom l might make enquiries relating to those early times in which l was interested. | think. II you have patience to hear or read me through. you will agree that l was siil- guIarly fortunate III my accidental meet iHgs.
 While was in the cemetery. an old gentleman and his daughter stopped ia their wagon in the road leading by t. He had come. on that beautiful morn ing-his daughter told me--te mark cut with his staff the place where he was to be laid 10 sleep with his fathers His age. she told me. was eighty eight years, and his name was Jacob Lyon. He an SMrred my questions. put m loud voice. clearly enough. though always after a considerable interval of silence, during which the response was working its way through the worn and rusted mental machinery. The wagon with the old gentleman and his daughter led the way to the rlace where formerly stood the house in which my father was born, Il had been taken down years ago, and n it's place was standing the neat resi- dence occupied by Mir. Oliver Ii. Perry The hour spent there was one Of the most interesting of my life. There were the fields through which he had stray I'd when hoy--hareiooi. l hope, though his children never were allowed the luxury of unshed soles. There was the landscape, beautiful with woods and water. ~hxh went Nith him III imagina ton through all his earthly pilgrimage; fhere. al the foot of steep bank ran the brook which mnrmured through all thx dreams of his after. l saw inches in its sseep sides. where he might have formed the palpi, from which in his childhcods he used to preach to con ereeation of whispering waveless; tyhrre vas an anciens applctree, which he may. weli have elsmhcd to ifs sopuno<s bcuuA-ior once heard ii told by xn early schcolmase. long since gathered to his fsfhefs, that he had something of the acrobat among his. boyish gifssl- there ms the old veli. from whsch he and his fashefs had drawn the sparkling v1nes. = oa that day. sl1nding uncos-
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