* / 
 
 ^ 
 
 is* 
 
 .^fllu-r^ 71 
 
 ,*^ *" 
 
 kf v 
 
 V 
 
 
 .jwfffpRf 
 
 S*fiHi! 
 
 1 ~^fjr>:iif 
 
 ^ Rs/ 
 ^ \ 
 
 
 03 
 
 > 
 2 
 
 J- 
 
 v^ v ^&/> 
 
 
 ^ L . 
 
 ^ 
 
 ;-HKS: 
 
 
 - ;iiiiirp;?fflhB>3Tii 
 
 !>^ 3 
 
 
 ,1 ^P 
 
 % ^L V 
 fy) ^ 
 
 Q ^-)vo 
 
 C"! 
 
 v 
 V 
 
 6 
 
 ^, 
 
 
 
 
 
 < <^ 
 
 
 
 O - : : 
 
 !/ 
 
 
 ^
 
 ^ 3i 
 
 ^ $ 
 
 a. 
 
 
 
 - 
 
 < 
 
 
 
 
 5 ftSTfT>. o 
 
 X) * * r <^ <* > 
 
 o sii^i cfc?" 
 
 ;> . ^> J . v
 
 */l/ij 4/L^cy
 
 . 
 
 AND 
 
 POEMS 
 
 BASED ON FACTS AND TRADITIONS OF NEW 
 
 ENGLAND LIFE, IN THE NEAR AND 
 
 REMOTE PAST 
 
 BY 
 
 CHAUNCEY EDWIN PECK 
 
 Published by the Author
 
 Copyright 1904, 
 
 by 
 CHAUNCEY E. PECK 
 
 PRESS OF CARPENTER & MOREHOUSE, AMHERST, MASS.
 
 Eased on a few of the facts and traditions told in 
 nearly every New England town, concern 
 ing the occupation of that territory by 
 the Indians, and their subse 
 quent sale of the land to 
 the white men. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS TAKEN BY THE 
 AUTHOR 
 
 a Una? 
 
 A true story of New England life, A. D. 1744
 
 MINNEOLA 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Explanation, 9 
 
 The Legend, 15 
 
 Prelude, 19 
 
 Minneola, 20 
 
 Not all dream, 185 
 
 There to-day, .188 
 
 Waiting while, **?(j^ I92 
 
 Conclusion, l rf> 
 
 THE PARSON S ROSE 
 
 Explanation, 201 
 
 The Parson s Rose, 203
 
 ICtst of 3lllBtrattona 
 
 No. PAGE 
 Frontispiece Portrait. 
 
 1. Saw the tall grass, 23 
 
 2. Came one evening, 27 
 
 3. Hills and valleys, 33 
 
 4. As they trailed along, 43 
 
 5. When she looked, 63 
 
 6. Wilamansus stood, 69 
 
 7. Peace and plenty, 79 
 
 8. And her form to stone, 87 
 
 9. And a stone stood, 91 
 
 10. But the stone man, 95 
 
 11. Indian fireplace, 115 
 
 12. I the hunter was, 119 
 
 13. Till two hundred moons, 125 
 
 14. Brought the Peace Pipe, 147 
 
 15. And I passed again, 163 
 
 16. But my eyes looked, 169 
 
 17. Sometimes since, , .... 175 
 
 18. But he comes not, 179 
 
 19. Weshaugan ! Weshaugan ! 183 
 
 20. There to-day, 189 
 
 21. Waitingwhile his, i93 
 
 22. Tail piece, Peace Pipe, 199 
 
 23. Tail piece. Flax Wheel, 215
 
 HE land east of the Connecticut River, originally 
 purchased from the Indians by Mr. William 
 Pynchon, within the limits of the present City 
 of Springfield, Mass., extended to the Five Mile 
 Pond, or to about the line of the present Parker 
 street. In or about 1674, Elizur Holyoke and 
 others, purchased from the Indians the land lying 
 easterly of the William Pynchon purchase, to the 
 mountains. " There are many traditions respecting 
 the claim of a blind Indian to the territory of the 
 town of Wilbraham, and of some compensation made 
 to him to liquidate it, and of his reserving certain 
 hunting and fishing rights. An Indian woman lived 
 there for a number of years after the white people 
 came." 
 
 (From History of Wilbraham, Mass., published in 1863.)
 
 io Explanation 
 
 WIGWAM HILL. This elevation is mentioned in 
 the records of the town of Wilbraham by that name, 
 as early as 1744. " The First church on the Moun 
 tains " was commenced there at that date, and fin 
 ished and used in 1748. The church stood about 
 twenty rods south of the present residence of Henry 
 T. Bolles, and the Minister s house (Rev. Noah 
 Merrick) was about six or eight rods northwest of 
 Mr. Bolles residence. 
 
 WE-SHA-U-GAN, THE NAME OF THE INDIAN 
 WOMAN. Her wigwam, which gave the name to the 
 hill, was near its southern extremity, on the east side 
 of the small stream which divides the hill from the 
 higher ground. She was an occasional visitor at the 
 Minister s, and once, at least, invited him to dine 
 with her. One of his children, accompanied by the 
 mother, remembered to have eaten succotash in the 
 " Old Squaw s Wigwam." (Traditions of the Mer 
 rick family.) 
 
 WAL-NO-KIM, THE INDIAN POTTER. There have 
 lately been discovered in the town, evidences of the
 
 Explanation 11 
 
 extensive manufacture of Indian dishes from soap- 
 stone boulders, probably deposited in the glacial 
 period, with dishes in all stages of completion, and 
 many fragments, also the tools of trap-rock used in 
 their manufacture. (Springfield Republican, July 
 26, 1903.) 
 
 It is said that no Indian weapons have been found 
 in that immediate vicinity. It may have been neu 
 tral territory. 
 
 WAUGH-KE-GAN S TRAIL. The depression in the 
 hills northeast of the Stone church, including the 
 valley through which flows the Rill of Rubic (or 
 Rubicon). This small stream is supplied with water 
 from two independent sources about one-fourth of a 
 mile apart, one rising near what is known as the 
 " Upper Reservoir " and flowing north until it meets 
 the other flowing south, near the " Lower Reservoir," 
 which I have called " Minneola s Mirror." The 
 " Trail " is now used as a public highway. 
 
 " LAKES OF WAL-A-MU-SA." The two bodies of
 
 12 Explanation 
 
 water, about two miles north of the Stone church, 
 known as Nine Mile and Spectacle Ponds. 
 
 WIL-A-MAN-SUS. A young son from far country. 
 NI-NO-NAH. Waughkegan s Quaboag bride. 
 
 WAU-SHU-MAN. The blind Indian who, according 
 to tradition, sold the mountain part of the town to the 
 white men. 
 
 About 1885, I found an Indian stone hatchet, a few 
 rods southwest of Minneola s Mirror. There I have 
 located Waugkegan s Wigwam. A stone mortar and 
 other stone implements, now in Wesleyan Academy 
 Museum, were found near. In 1898 and 1899, I 
 found the two stones referred to in the poem about 
 thirty feet apart, near the place where the two streams 
 marry in the Rill of Rubic. They are thought by 
 some to resemble human figures. 
 
 In 1890, there were discovered on a hill north of 
 the Stone church, in a triangular position, about 
 twenty feet apart, three Indian fireplaces, two of
 
 Explanation ij 
 
 which were destroyed before their character was 
 recognized. They were filled with the ashes of 
 many fires. 
 
 There is an Indian tradition, that at the burial of 
 one of their race a dove flies over the open grave. 
 
 The ancients had a belief that the rainbow formed 
 a bridge on which the spirits of the saved passed 
 over the bottomless abyss into the regions of light 
 beyond this world. 
 
 The common superstition about the wet moon 
 and dry moon, is too well known to need any expla 
 nation. 
 
 These facts, traditions and superstitions, and es 
 pecially the stone which bears some resemblance to 
 a woman in a sitting posture, have appealed to me 
 for several years to give them expression.
 
 14 Explanation 
 
 The work has been done during the infrequent 
 pauses in a busy life. It is submitted with the hope 
 that some may enjoy the reading as much as I have 
 enjoyed the writing. 
 
 The scene is first laid on Wigwam Hill, then in 
 the valley northeast of the Stone church, because I 
 there found the two stones mentioned, and the stone 
 hatchet. 
 
 CHAUNCEY E. PECK. 
 
 Wilbraham, Mass., Nov. /, 1904
 
 On the afternoon of a day in mid-autumn, about 
 the year 1745, Nathaniel Hitchcock, the first settler 
 of Wilbraham, stood on Wigwam Hill. His trusty 
 gun was by his side, his well filled bag of game 
 showed that the day s hunt had been a success. He 
 was on his way homeward. Down in the broad 
 western valley at his feet, he had built his house of 
 logs, fifteen years before. Neighbors now there 
 were, but not then. He saw the smoke from the 
 chimney of his log cabin, curling slowly upward in 
 the still October day. It was a scene of peace. 
 There his wife and children waiting his coming for 
 their evening meal, and there was plenty for their 
 needs. 
 
 Turning, he looked into the little valley south 
 ward. A moving form attracted his attention. It
 
 1 6 The Legend 
 
 seemed to be a human figure, bent nearly double, 
 darting quickly back and forth, apparently trying to 
 catch something on the ground. He had seen it be 
 fore. It was Weshaugan, the old Indian squaw, 
 catching mice for her daily food. Weshaugan, the 
 last of that mysterious race which had chased the 
 deer over those hills ; which had, in a crude way, 
 tilled those fields, and had buried their dead within 
 those valleys. Alone, deserted by her kindred, 
 without tribesmen or tribe, she had lived there since 
 the white men came. 
 
 He was stirred with pity for the lonely old woman, 
 and went down the hill toward her. She saw him 
 coming, and waited by her wigwam door. " We 
 shaugan," he said, " the day has yielded me more 
 than plenty, and I am glad that it is so, for I can 
 well spare you some of these birds." She took the 
 two partridges he handed her, saying, " The white 
 man is very kind, the white men have all been kind 
 to Weshaugan. More than once I have been in-
 
 T/ie Legend ij 
 
 vited, and have taken dinner at the minister s." 
 With a slight show of pride she continued, " Only 
 half a moon ago, I invited the minister and mis 
 tress to come to my table. I told them I had caught 
 a nice, fat skunk for roasting, and wished them to 
 taste the cooking of Weshaugan. But the mistress 
 explained that while I might eat at the minister s 
 table, his position would not permit him to eat at 
 mine. White folks have strange fancies." 
 
 She walked slowly back and forth before her wig 
 wam for a moment, as though she did not wish the 
 interview to end, and said, " White man, Weshaugan 
 is growing old. The morning will soon dawn when 
 she will not see its sunrise. The harvest moon is 
 near, and at that time, for many generations, my 
 people have told the legend of our tribe in this land, 
 which we called Minnechoag, or Berry Land." 
 
 She motioned him to be seated on a shelf of rock 
 that jutted out from a large boulder, and seating her-
 
 i8 The Legend 
 
 self upon a fallen tree trunk, her wigwam at 
 her back, her body swaying slowly backward 
 and forward as the story proceeded, the lone 
 old woman, the last one there of her people, told 
 
 "THE LEGEND OF MINNEOLA."
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 Thrice as far away as arrow 
 Swifting fleeing from the bow-string 
 Falls to earth, when sped by hunter, 
 Northward from my humble wigwam 
 To the traiPof young Waughkegan, 
 Where he first came down the mountain, 
 By the trail, and near the water 
 Known as^Minneola s Mirror, 
 And the valley is the scene laid ; 
 
 Where the streamlet northward flowing 
 Meets the streamlet southward flowing, 
 Where they meet and marry in the 
 Rill of Rubic, westward winding 
 On its journey to the river 
 Through the elm-tree shaded valley 
 Half in sunlight half in shadow, 
 Rubicon the peaceful valley, 
 Where for ages lived my fathers, 
 There for ages lies my story.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 In the distant days of past time, 
 In far moons that are forgotten, 
 When the men were large of stature, 
 And the maids were very winsome, 
 When the deer on every hill-top 
 Sought their food, and in the streamlets 
 Quenched their thirst by men unhindered, 
 When the earth was like day breaking, 
 Young and fair and full of promise ;
 
 Minneola 21 
 
 In a land towards the morning, 
 
 Where the sun is sooner risen, 
 
 And the waste of mighty waters 
 
 Stretches far away to heaven, 
 
 In that land to eastward lying, 
 
 On a night in early summer, 
 
 Young Waughkegan, stealthy hunter, 
 
 Eldest of his parents children, 
 
 Sleeping in his father s wigwam 
 
 With the kindred overflowing, 
 
 Dreamed a dream, as young men will dream, 
 
 So persuading, and compelling 
 
 That he straightway on the morrow 
 
 Said adieu to home and kindred ; 
 
 Took his trusty bow and arrows, 
 
 With high hope eternal springing 
 
 In his bosom as he journeyed, 
 
 Trailed away towards the sunset.
 
 22 Minneola 
 
 He had seen himself in vision, 
 In a fairer land to westward, 
 On a mountain clothed with verdure, 
 Looking down into a valley, 
 Stretching far away as sight went ; 
 Saw a river southward flowing, 
 Fed by rills and mountain streamlets, 
 Saw the tall grass of the meadows 
 Wave^him welcome, stirred by soft winds. 
 In the dim defiles of forests 
 Saw the deer herds never frightened 
 By the hunter s stealthy footsteps. 
 In a glen beside the red rock, 
 Saw a hundred warriors standing,
 
 Saw the tall grass of the meadows 
 Wave him welcome, stirred by soft winds. 
 
 [23]
 
 Minneola 25 
 
 Plumed and painted for the battle, 
 Waiting for their chief s appearing ; 
 Saw himself, The Chieftain, first his 
 Chieftain s bonnet wearing, standing 
 As their leader, while the tribesmen 
 Bending low with deep obeisance, 
 And with fealty proclaim him 
 " Chief Waughkegan, of the valleys, 
 Chieftain of the mountain region." 
 Saw the warriors home returning 
 From the foray on the foeman, 
 Bringing wealth of scalps and plunder, 
 To dream over in the future. 
 
 In the wigwams of the people 
 Plenty dwelt without excesses, 
 While the squaws were there contented. 
 And his sleeping vision, in the 
 Overflowing wigwam, showed him, 
 That to grasp the fruits and honors 
 He desired, he must win them.
 
 26 Minneola 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Then awaking from his vision, 
 So enticing and compelling, 
 Trailed he off towards the sunset, 
 
 Sometimes on the mountain ridges 
 Where the sunlight loved to linger, 
 Sometimes in the wooded valleys 
 Where the summer sunbeams came not, 
 Seeking on the sunlit mountain, 
 Or within the sun-hid valleys, 
 For a place to build his wigwam, 
 And to better his condition, 
 Came one evening clown the mountain 
 With the game the day had brought him,
 
 Came one evening down the mountain 
 With the game the day had brought him. 
 
 [27]
 
 Minneola 29 
 
 Made his camp as sun was setting 
 Where the rills of water meeting 
 Offered him the welcome shelter 
 Of a great rock from the east wind. 
 
 There with month-long journey weary 
 In his camp beside the streamlet, 
 Slept Waughkegan through the night-time ; 
 
 Waked at morn refreshed, and rising 
 When the eastern sky was blushing, 
 While the morning star was shining, 
 Offered earnest adoration.
 
 jo Minneola 
 
 " Oh Thou Manito, The Mighty, 
 What Thou art we cannot know it, 
 Cannot comprehend Thy substance ; 
 Suns and moons and stars, Thou made them, 
 
 Peopled them with unknown peoples, 
 And they move at Thy commandment. 
 Men and beasts and birds, Thou made them, 
 Filled them with strange aspirations, 
 And their trail is Heaven directed. 
 
 What are we, that Thou shouldst tarry 
 In creations so stupendous, 
 To hear wayward children crying, 
 Fretful children in the night time ? 
 
 But we feel through all our being 
 That Thy love directs our footsteps, 
 And to Thee we daily offer 
 Love supreme and reverence due Thee."
 
 Minneola 
 
 Then the morn s repast attended. 
 On his fire of coals the deer flesh 
 Broiling, yielded savory odor, 
 Blending with the scent of pine trees 
 And the fragrant breath of flowers ; 
 As he ate the food, with berries, 
 Gathered by the streamlet flowing, 
 Quenched his thirst in Rubic s waters, 
 And walked forth to view the landlie. 
 
 Strong was he, and fleet of footstep, 
 Youth was his, and high his hope was ; 
 He would rear a tribe of hunters, 
 They would occupy the valleys, 
 On the hills would build their wigwams.
 
 2 Minneola 
 
 Cheerful would the smoke look, rising 
 In the afternoons of autumn, 
 When the squaws their fires had lighted, 
 As the hunters down the mountain 
 Bringing game, the day had brought them, 
 Homeward came for rest at night-time, 
 For the rest their toil had earned them. 
 
 All would bend the knee and own him 
 First among them, Chief Waughkegan. 
 Hills and valleys were around him, 
 Plains and meadows stretched before him.
 
 Hills and valleys were around him, 
 Plains and meadows stretched before him. 
 
 [331
 
 Minneola 35 
 
 Deer abounded in the forests, 
 Quail flew out from every covert ; 
 Water flowed from springs unfailing 
 In the cold heart of the mountain ; 
 Flowed to gladden all the landscape, 
 And the verdure of the summer, 
 Clothed the vales and fields with beauty. 
 
 On the meadows fell the sunlight, 
 On the mountain lay the shadows ; 
 Sunlit meadows, shadowed mountain, 
 Promise gave of earth s abundance.
 
 <5 Minneola 
 
 All seemed waiting for man s footprints, 
 All seemed saying, " Welcome, Stranger, 
 Welcome to the fruits you gather, 
 Welcome to rewards of labor." 
 
 And the freely tendered welcome 
 Of the meadows and the mountain 
 Fell upon his lonesome spirit 
 Like a restful benediction, 
 While the chieftain s honors thrilled him ; 
 
 And the future, bright with promise, 
 Stood afar and signalled for him 
 To abide within the valley 
 For its coming with fruition 
 Of his hopes and aspirations. 
 So his quest for home he ended.
 
 Minneola 37 
 
 On high ground beside the streamlet 
 Skillfully his wigwam fashioned, 
 Wrought with love upon the structure, 
 Very broad and spacious made it, 
 
 Made the sides of heart of cedar, 
 Made the floor of well-smoothed oak wood, 
 Made a couch of boughs of hemlock, 
 Benches made of laurel branches, 
 Made them all with love s sweet labor. 
 
 So the shadow of the wigwam, 
 When the morning sun was shining, 
 Fell upon the cold spring flowing 
 Out from underneath the gray rock 
 In the pleasant vale of Rubic.
 
 j<$ Minneola 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 When the wigwam was completed, 
 And his work of love was ended, 
 Backward on his trail he journeyed, 
 Three full days returned he eastward, 
 By the path he first had blazed there. 
 
 Camped the first night with Walnokim 
 On the farther side of mountain.
 
 Minneola 
 
 Skilled Walnokim was in making 
 All the dishes used by women 
 In their keeping of the wigwams ; 
 
 Jars and cups of clay he made them 
 Dishes broad and deep he made them, 
 For the succotash and deer flesh, 
 For the maize and summer berries. 
 Two full days and nights he baked them 
 In his stone cave for an oven, 
 Baked and glazed them for the women. 
 
 Some made he of soapstone boulders, 
 Of ^the smoothly feeling soapstone, 
 Of the fire-resisting soapstone, 
 Which the Manito had sent him 
 In the bosom of a glacier, 
 In the days when ice and north wind 
 Froze the heart of all the mountains, 
 Turned to stone the rills and rivers, 
 Rent the rocks with icy fingers.
 
 o Minneola 
 
 Till the sun and south wind slew them, 
 Slew the ice and tamed the north wind, 
 With a touch so soft and gentle 
 That the rippling rills and streamlets 
 Laughed aloud among the pebbles, 
 As they wandered through the valleys, 
 Clothing all the earth with verdure 
 In the genial summer weather. 
 
 With the true eye and deft ringers 
 Of a craftsman, wrought Walnokim, 
 With his clay and on the soapstone 
 Which the dying glacier left him, 
 Until all his wares were noted 
 Far and wide in many wigwams.
 
 Minneola 
 
 All his stores he showed Waughkegan, 
 From the stores Waughkegan chose him 
 Many dishes for his new home, 
 And departing on the morrow, 
 Gave a deer in barter for them. 
 
 Two days more he journeyed eastward 
 To the great tribe of the Quaboags, 
 To their village by the river 
 Through the Quaboag meadows flowing ; 
 
 Sought a bride, the fair Ninonah, 
 Famous as a wigwam keeper, 
 Wooed and won her, Chieftain s daughter, 
 While a hundred hunters sought her.
 
 42 Minn eo la 
 
 After days of feast and dancing, 
 By the customs of her people, 
 All the sweet home ties she severed, 
 And departed with her husband. 
 
 Light the heart of young Waughkegan 
 As they trailed along the mountain, 
 As they journeyed through the greenwood,
 
 Light the heart of young Waughkegan 
 
 As they trailed along the mountain, 
 
 As they journeyed through the greenwood: 
 
 [43]
 
 Minneola 
 
 As he brought his young wife homeward ; 
 Making camp at every evening, 
 For the welcome rest of night-time. 
 
 Thrice the sun had set and risen, 
 Thrice the moon rode high in heaven, 
 Thrice their shadows went before them, 
 Thrice the shadows trailed behind them. 
 
 Each day farther from her old home, 
 Nearer to her husband s wigwam, 
 Till on summit of the mountain 
 Which she christened Mount Waughkegan, 
 They looked down into the valley. 
 
 All the beauties he had seen there 
 Saw she as by intuition, 
 All the welcome he d received there, 
 Received she in larger measure. 
 
 But the summer sun descending 
 Showed her more than met his vision 
 When two moons before he viewed it.
 
 46 Minneola 
 
 Far adown the sloping hill-side 
 Her eyes, searching for a token, 
 Lighted on a new made wigwam, 
 Spacious and with skill constructed, 
 Saw what she had been expecting, 
 Wigwam waiting for its keeper, 
 Quite complete and waiting for her. 
 
 In her home beside the river 
 Through the Quaboag meadows flowing, 
 They had called her fair Ninonah, 
 Sweetest of the wigwam keepers. 
 
 All the lessons she had learned there 
 Would she practice in her new home, 
 And in many ways endeavor 
 To improve upon the old one. 
 
 Pleasant looked the wigwam to her 
 As the summer sun descending, 
 Cast its rays between the branches 
 Of the forest trees around it, 
 Cast its rays like arrows flashing
 
 Minneola 
 
 Through the forests leafy branches, 
 Flecking all the new made surface, 
 Like the speckled trout she d captured 
 When a child in Quaboag s waters. 
 Thus it was when first she saw it. 
 
 Her mind saw the smoke rise from it 
 In the afternoons of autumn 
 When her evening fire she kindled, 
 And her husband homeward coming 
 From his hunting on the mountain. 
 
 He would see the smoke curl upward 
 In the peaceful autumn evenings, 
 Promise of the rest awaiting, 
 In the home her love would make him. 
 
 So with love s anticipations 
 Came they down the sloping hill-side, 
 By the trail Waughkegan blazed there, 
 To the place where streamlets meeting 
 Marry in the rill of Rubic. 
 In the limpid streamlet flowing 
 On its journey through the valley,
 
 48 Minneola 
 
 Rubicon, the peaceful valley, 
 Lying in the sun and shadow. 
 
 To the cabin he had made there, 
 With its sides of heart of cedar, 
 With its floor of well smoothed oak-wood, 
 To the couch and benches waiting. 
 
 She stepped first within the wigwam, 
 Turning then with bashful gesture. 
 Smiling, loving, bade him enter, 
 Saying, " Welcome home, Waukegan, 
 W elcome to my home, my husband." 
 
 And the welcome of the meadows, 
 With the welcome of the mountain, 
 Touched not heart of young Waughkegan 
 Like the welcome to his wigwam, 
 From his bride, the fair Ninonah. 
 
 Growing more to love each other, 
 Thus they entered on their future, 
 With the wigwam for the center 
 Of their hopes and aspirations.
 
 Minneola 4.9 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 All their labor would attend it, 
 His without, and hers within it. 
 He would bring the game to keep it, 
 So the hated wolves of hunger 
 Never enter to subdue it, 
 Never even look within it. 
 She d prepare the food they needed, 
 So the dreaded hot-faced fever 
 Never came to tarry with them, 
 Or depart with any loved one. 
 
 4
 
 50 Minneola 
 
 And in all ways keep the wigwam 
 In the ways that women keep them, 
 As they re only skilled to keep them. 
 
 Thus for many moons she kept it, 
 Through the days of early summer, 
 When the beautiful earth-mother 
 Wears again her robe of blossoms 
 Painted freely on and over 
 All the spreading fields and meadows, 
 As a bride with beads and feathers 
 Is adorned to meet her hushand. 
 
 When the chestnut trees in blossom 
 Clothe the green and sloping hillside 
 With a wealth of golden color, 
 Beautiful as evening sunset, 
 Promising to yield a harvest 
 Which the children love to gather.
 
 Minneola 57 
 
 If you wander there in season, 
 Through the dim defiles of forest, 
 When the early frosts of autumn 
 Have laid bare the stored up treasures, 
 You may gather of their bounty 
 Till the hands refuse to carry, 
 Or of gathering you weary. 
 
 Through the harvest days of summer, 
 When in fruitful fields we gather 
 Burdens from the kindly mother, 
 Of the food and fruits she brings us, 
 
 Through the autumn s frosty mornings, 
 W 7 hen the oak trees and the chestnut 
 Scatter down upon the dry leaves 
 Stores of nuts by many handfuls, 
 When they fall upon the dry leaves, 
 Sounding like the early raindrops 
 Of the shower upon the wigwam.
 
 52 Minneola 
 
 Through rare days of Indian summer, 
 When the swift advancing winter 
 Seems to tarry in his coming, 
 With a breath once more of summer. 
 When the sultry air is laden 
 With a haze o er all prevailing, 
 To those autumn days peculiar, 
 Days for resting from one s labor, 
 Days to love the kind earth-mother. 
 
 Days when old, disabled hunter 
 May secure his scant provisions 
 For the hungry days to follow. 
 
 Saw the autumn sun retreating, 
 Each day farther south retiring, 
 Till his breath was not sufficient 
 To remove the ice- spears hanging 
 On the hunter s snow bound wigwam.
 
 Minneola 5J 
 
 Then through dreary days of winter, 
 When the ice-king from the north-land 
 Lays his cold and freezing fingers 
 Upon all the painted blossoms 
 Which like far-off stars have sparkled 
 In the meadows through the summer. 
 Saying to the fragrant blossoms 
 And the grasses, in his cold voice, 
 " Dead you are and dead must ever 
 Henceforth be, now and forever." 
 
 When the storm roars through the forest, 
 Shouting down the frozen hillside, 
 " Now all living things must perish, 
 When I and the mighty ice-king 
 Hold our sway and do our pleasure." 
 
 On the trees he lays his fierce hand, 
 Giant trees that have defied him 
 For five hundred moons of winter.
 
 ^r Minneola 
 
 Shakes the sturdy trunks and saplings, 
 Beats and bends the spreading tree-tops 
 Till a rain of broken branches, 
 Making fire-wood for the wigwams, 
 Falls upon the ice-clad surface 
 Of the kind earth mother hidden ; 
 As the acorns fall when ripened 
 On the yellow leaves of autumn. 
 
 Smites the earth with mighty flail strokes, 
 
 Till the rocks are rent and broken 
 
 By his unrelenting fingers. 
 
 Shouts he through the leafless forest, 
 
 Roaring through the vales and valleys, 
 
 " Dead all nature lies before me, 
 
 Death and darkness rule where I reign."
 
 Minneola 55 
 
 But the shouting and the bluster 
 Of the Ice-king and of North Wind 
 Kill not everything they threaten, 
 For a touch of sun and south-wind, 
 Soft and gentle, but compelling, 
 Drives them back into the north-land, 
 Whence they came with such proud boasting, 
 And the life which they have shouted 
 Henceforth dead forever would be, 
 Lives again beneath the influence 
 Of the summer sun and showers.
 
 <5 Minneola 
 
 So the breath of the Great Spirit 
 And the sunshine of His Presence 
 Clothe again the lives we lay down 
 When the shouting evil spirits 
 Have proclaimed us dead forever, 
 Henceforth now and e en forever. 
 
 Since they cannot keep for all time 
 Over all things the dominion 
 Which they hold for a brief season. 
 For the Manito in pity 
 Compels all the evil spirits 
 To retire into the darkness 
 When their scourging is sufficient. 
 They that hear Him must obey Him.
 
 Minneola 57 
 
 Through the soft spring days Ninonah, 
 Sweetest of the wigwam keepers, 
 Saw the welcome sun returning 
 From his dreary journey southward, 
 Bringing forth the birds and blossoms. 
 From their coverts in the forest ; 
 
 Saw the streamlet loose the cold bonds 
 Which the ice-king laid upon it, 
 Heard once more its cheerful murmur, 
 Flowing downward from the warm springs, 
 Deeply hidden in the mountain, 
 Heard it singing on its journey 
 Through the meadows to its marriage 
 With the Chieftain of the rivers, 
 Flowing through a larger valley. 
 
 Saw the dear earth-mother slowly 
 Casting off her icy mantle, 
 Robe herself in garb of spring-time,
 
 $8 Minneola 
 
 Saw the blossoms of the meadows 
 Rising from the cast-off ashes 
 Of the lives they lived aforetime ; 
 
 By the miracle of nature s 
 Sweet and wholesome resurrection, 
 Clothed again in garb more lovely 
 Than the one that died in autumn. 
 
 Saw the dead and naked forest 
 Clothed again in emerald garments, 
 Saw the birds their new homes making 
 In the forest s leafy branches, 
 Heard a^ain their happy singing 
 As they wrought at their home building, 
 Thus their destiny fulfilling.
 
 Minneola 59 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 So the seasons came and passed on, 
 Always coming, always going, 
 And the years, though swiftly passing, 
 Laid their weight as lightly on her 
 As the early snow flakes falling ; 
 
 Daughters ten and sons eleven 
 Played around Waughkegan s wigwam, 
 Caught the minnows in the waters, 
 Trailed the deer along the meadows, 
 Grew to youth and manhood quickly. 
 Quickly made them newer wigwams, 
 And to other homes were scattered 
 On the hills and plains around them. 
 
 All were gone but Minneola, 
 Best beloved and youngest daughter.
 
 60 Minneola 
 
 She remained of all their children, 
 As they saw old age approaching, 
 By her youth to scatter sunshine 
 Through the days and in the dwelling 
 Where they lived and loved and rested, 
 When each day of effort ended. 
 
 Many moons had set and risen, 
 Many suns had crossed the heaven, 
 Many winter s snows the north wind 
 Whirled and drifted round the wigwam, 
 Many summer s fruits they d gathered 
 From the earth s redundant measures, 
 Many blossoms bloomed and faded, 
 Many treasures daily gathered, 
 Tell the tale of their life s journey 
 In the Rubic s peaceful valley.
 
 Minneola 61 
 
 When Ninonah, who had given 
 All the wealth of her affection 
 For the Chieftain and the children, 
 Without waiting for Old Age to 
 \Vrite his name upon her forehead, 
 Folded up her hands one noontime, 
 On a dreamy day in autumn, 
 All her cheerful labor ended. 
 
 And a dove to southward passing, 
 Bore the word to passed-on tribesmen 
 That Ninonah soon would join them, 
 Her probation quite completed. 
 
 And they laid her so the shadow, 
 Eastward stretching from the wigwam, 
 Where the sunbeams loved to linger, 
 Fell upon her grave at sunset. 
 Lonely then our Minneola 
 Kept the wigwam of her father.
 
 62 Minneola 
 
 Fair was she and very winsome, 
 And with winsome ways she always 
 Strove to make her father happy, 
 All a daughter s duty doing. 
 
 Dried the berries that she gathered, 
 Crushed the maize her father brought her, 
 Gathered acorns in the autumn, 
 Dried the flesh of deer and salmon, 
 Stored them for the winter s eating ; 
 And in all things kept the wigwam 
 In the ways her mother taught her ; 
 And the cool and crystal water, 
 Flowing through the pool beside her, 
 In the fragrant time of summer, 
 Paused awhile to show her, when she 
 Looked in Minneola s Mirror, 
 That among the fairest daughters, 
 She was very fair and winsome. 
 She, the nearest to her father 
 Of the children of Ninonah,
 
 Minneola 65 
 
 So with willing hands and footsteps, 
 In the skillful ways of women, 
 She kept there her father s wigwam, 
 In the ways familiar to him, 
 In the ways her mother kept it. 
 
 Keeping time by new moons hanging 
 In the western sky at evening, 
 Till two hundred moons she d counted 
 In the western sky low hanging. 
 
 And the days with duties laden. 
 Ran like forest fires behind her.
 
 66 Minneola 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 In those long forgotten ages 
 
 From which legends only reach us, 
 
 Sons of Manito, The Spirit 
 
 Came to earth and walked upon it, 
 
 Came to view and teach the tribesmen 
 
 How to use it and subdue it. 
 
 When the hunter s moon was shining, 
 Then their trails to earth descending, 
 Like the shooting stars of night-time, 
 Might be often seen at evening 
 O er the wide expanse of heaven, 
 As they came to teach the hunters 
 How to make the hills and valleys, 
 How to make the lakes and rivers. 
 How to make the fields and forests, 
 Yield them food to stay their hunger, 
 Yield them raiment for the winter,
 
 Minneola 67 
 
 How to make the earth a mother, 
 For their needs and for their pleasure. 
 And they noticed that men s daughters, 
 Very fair were, and most winsome. 
 Is it any cause for wonder 
 That they tired of living lonesome, 
 And selected wives among them ? 
 Happy were the homes they founded, 
 Plenty dwelt within their wigwams. 
 
 On a morn when Minneola 
 Went to pick the ripe, red berries, 
 By the Rill of Rubic growing, 
 Gathering thus her stores for winter, 
 By some careless footstep loosened, 
 Rolled a pebble from the hillside, 
 Fell and splashed into the streamlet. 
 And the maiden, looking upward, 
 Looking quickly, saw a young man 
 On Waughkegan s trail approaching. 
 
 5
 
 68 Minneola 
 
 Straight was he as any arrow, 
 Quick was he as any bowstring, 
 Fairer far than all her brothers ; 
 And she knew the morning brought him, 
 And she felt her mother sent him 
 From the land beyond the sunrise, 
 From the home of the departed. 
 
 Clad in suit of creamy buckskin, 
 Round his waist a belt of bird claws, 
 Round his neck a sash of wampum, 
 On his head a cap of white fur. 
 A young son from that far country, 
 Wilamansus, stood before her, 
 Smiling, saying, " Minneola, 
 I have traveled with the morning 
 From a land beyond the sunrise.
 
 And the waters showed her, when she 
 Looked in Minneola s Mirror, 
 That among earth s favored daughters, 
 She was very fair and winsome." 
 
 [63]
 
 Minneola 
 
 I have come with haste to meet you, 
 Quickly I have come to greet you, 
 And to tell you that I love you. 
 
 Fairest far of all men s daughters, 
 Winsome most of all earth s maidens, 
 I with haste have come to claim you, 
 If you kindly will accept me." 
 
 And the maiden shyly answered, 
 While her heart thrilled with emotion, 
 " If you wish it I am willing 
 You alone shall be my husband."
 
 2 Minncola 
 
 Close his arm entwined around her, 
 Light her head lay on his shoulder, 
 With a kiss they sealed the transfer 
 Each forever to the other. 
 And the streamlet flowing softly 
 O er its bed of shining pebbles, 
 To its marriage with the river 
 Flowing through a larger valley, 
 Saw it all and told the swallows 
 When they came to it to gather 
 Moistened earth to bind together 
 The new homes which they were building, 
 And the swallows told their children, 
 So to me the children told it, 
 And so now to you I tell it. 
 
 Hand in hand and hearts united, 
 Home they hastened to the wigwam, 
 Spacious wigwam of Waughkegan.
 
 Minneola 73 
 
 But Waughkegan saw them coming, 
 
 By the instints of his nature 
 
 Knew the meaning of their coming. 
 
 Swiftly then his thoughts ran backward 
 On the trail his life had followed, 
 Since he left his father s wigwam, 
 To a ne er forgotten evening 
 When he with his bride Ninonah, 
 Filled with dreamings of the future, 
 Trod love s trail there first together. 
 
 And the pleasant recollection 
 Warmed his heart towards his daughter ; 
 Meeting them without the wigwam, 
 Thus he answered e er they asked him : 
 
 " Minneola, when your mother, 
 Once my bride, the fair Ninonah, 
 Living daily in our memory, 
 Passed within the spheres of silence,
 
 <^ Minneola 
 
 Whence no message cometh from her, 
 Lonely was the wigwam for me, 
 Lonely were the fields and meadows, 
 Where together we had wandered 
 In the pleasant days of summer. 
 
 And the evening breezes sighing, 
 On their way along the mountain, 
 Never brought to my ears waiting, 
 Sound of her light footsteps falling. 
 Lonely looked the stars upon me, 
 Lonely rode the moon above me, 
 Many new moons we had counted 
 Since for me she left the wigwam 
 Of her father, by the Quaboag ; 
 
 But you lightly took the burden 
 She unwilling left behind her, 
 And have carried it as kindly 
 As your mother always bore it; 
 So your father has not suffered 
 In your daily ministrations."
 
 Minneola 75 
 
 Laying both his hands upon them, 
 He continued with his answer, 
 " Life lays many duties on us 
 In this world of lights and shadows, 
 Bearing, rearing, serving, giving, 
 Ours to-day and yours to-morrow. 
 
 Daughter, we have borne you, we have 
 Reared you ; daily you have served us ; 
 None could better, or could sweeter, 
 And we give you to this stranger ; 
 
 Such is life through generations. 
 Only now I earnest pray you, 
 Leave not yet your father s wigwam ; 
 Room there is to spare within it, 
 Very broad and spacious is it, 
 Now for many moons you ve kept it 
 In the ways your mother kept it ; 
 
 In those ways, I pray you, keep it.
 
 76 Minneola 
 
 And I charge you to remember 
 Every day will bring the duties 
 Which that day must see completed, 
 If we would our way continue 
 Without dreading the to-morrow." 
 
 So they entered in the dwelling, 
 Making it their home, and in time 
 Other children, in the sunny 
 Days of summer, chased each other 
 In and round Waughkegan s wigwam. 
 
 Happy then was Minneola, 
 Happy in her home and children, 
 Happy in her home and husband ; 
 All the days were filled with duties. 
 
 Kindness he was always with them, 
 Patience made her home among them, 
 Love and Laughter lived beside them, 
 Plenty dwelt within the wigwam, 
 And her father was contented.
 
 Minneola 
 
 Wilamansus taught the tribesmen 
 How to make them suits of buckskin, 
 How to make of stone their hatchets, 
 How to tip with stone their arrows ; 
 How to grind the maize in mortars, 
 How to lure with bait the fishes, 
 From the lake of Walamusa, 
 From the two lakes Walamusa ; 
 How to drive the deer at mid-day 
 From the meadow r s to the mountain, 
 And entrap them in the runway. 
 
 In the glen beside a red rock, 
 East and southward from the wigwam, 
 Where the northward flowing streamlet 
 Springs from earth, and like a fountain, 
 Flows to gladden all the landscape ; 
 
 Quickly there they made a runway. 
 Only closing it when needed,
 
 78 Minneola 
 
 So the deer, from meadows feeding, 
 Might pass through, if hunter willed it, 
 And become accustomed to it ; 
 But they fashioned there a fixture, 
 Nicely balanced a contrivance, 
 Children partly grown might turn it, 
 So the deer was quickly captured, 
 When new stores of food were needed 
 In the hungry hunter s wigwam. 
 
 Many new moons came and passed on, 
 Peace and plenty, love and duty, 
 Daily smiled on Minneola. 
 But the seasons ever passing, 
 Laid their burdens on her father, 
 Not as once so lightly carried.
 
 Many new moons came and passed on, 
 Peace and plenty, love and duty, 
 Daily smiled on Minneola." 
 
 1 79]
 
 Minneola Si 
 
 Age was claiming Chief Waughkegan, 
 On the morrow after sunset, 
 In the western sky low hanging, 
 Would be seen his thousandth new moon. 
 All his children he would gather 
 From their homes on nearby hilltops, 
 From their homes within the valley ; 
 They would bring the maize and berries, 
 But the father, Chief Waughkegan, 
 Would provide the meat for feasting.
 
 82 Minneola 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 By the lakes of Walamusa, 
 In the meadows round the waters, 
 Underneath the giant elm trees, 
 Casting far their grateful shelter 
 When the sun was high in heaven ; 
 
 In the meadows at the morning, 
 When the clew lay on the grasses, 
 Taking no thought for to-morrow, 
 So their daily needs were granted, 
 Browsed the deer in herd contented, 
 Satisfied if each day brought them 
 Daily pasturage for seeking.
 
 Minneola 83 
 
 Wilamansus he had seen them 
 Only yesterday at evening, 
 As he came that way from hunting. 
 On the morning of the feast day 
 He essayed alone to bring one 
 From the lakes into the runway. 
 
 Chief Waughkegan, old for running, 
 He would guard the farther outlet ; 
 Minneola, near the wigwam, 
 Would attend the trap, as often 
 She had done in happy past-time ; 
 
 So the capture was divided. 
 Each had part the most congenial, 
 Each was eager to do the part. 
 
 " I will bring it," so he boasted, 
 " Ere the sun has reached its zenith." 
 Then he kissed her as his wont was, 
 Off he trailed for Walamusa,
 
 84 Minneola 
 
 Still as straight as any arrow, 
 
 Still as quick as any bowstring, 
 
 To the lakes called Walamusa, 
 
 For the deer which there were feeding. 
 
 Minneola swept the wigwam, 
 Making ready for the feasting. 
 Set out all the soapstone dishes, 
 Swept and dusted all the fixtures, 
 Polished all the sides and benches 
 Till the floor her face she saw in, 
 Till the lodge seemed filled with women. 
 
 Up the autumn sun ascended 
 To his highest place in heaven, 
 When she heard her husband shouting, 
 Saw him from the meadows coming, 
 Saw the deer flash by the wigwam, 
 Running fleetly up the runway. 
 
 Down her heart sank with foreboding, 
 For alas, with wigwam busy, 
 With the sweeping and preparing
 
 Minneola 8$ 
 
 For the feasting, her thoughts wandered, 
 And the trap she s not attended. 
 Quickly then she comprehended 
 There would be no meat for feasting. 
 
 Then her husband stood beside her, 
 Flushed with pride at his endeavor; 
 Old Waughkegan heard the shouting, 
 Homeward hurried from his station. 
 Meat there would be for the feasting, 
 When the tribesmen met at evening, 
 In the longed for celebration 
 Of their chieftain s thousandth new moon. 
 
 Then upon the hills above them, 
 Free from all their traps and cunning, 
 Fled the deer in perfect freedom. 
 And they knew that Minneola 
 Once had failed to do her duty. 
 
 Bitterly they quick concluded 
 There would be no meat for feasting.
 
 86 Minneola 
 
 Swift the wrath of Wilamansus ; 
 Without waiting to consider, 
 Up he raised his hand and smote her, 
 Fiercely smote her on the forehead, 
 Where that morning he had kissed her. 
 
 Broken hearted, Minneola, 
 Bride and wife of her true lover, 
 After all those kind years together, 
 Ended thus her sweet life s journey, 
 By the hand of one she loved much, 
 By the hand of him who loved her. 
 
 Only one sad look she gave him, 
 To his sense of right appealing, 
 Without word and without crying, 
 Down to earth her body shrinking, 
 Swift her spirit joined her mother s, 
 And her form to stone slow turning ;
 
 Down to earth her body shrinking. 
 Swift her spirit joined her mother s. 
 And her form to stone slow turning.
 
 Minneola 89 
 
 While a passing cloud in heaven 
 Wept the tear drops of good spirits 
 Who had daily waited on them. 
 
 But that day of dread affliction 
 With the advent of Swift Passion, 
 Was not ended with one offering ; 
 For the Great One up in heaven, 
 Watching all his earthly children, 
 Saw the act with sore displeasure ;
 
 o Minneola 
 
 Seeing it from his high station, 
 And he straightway hurled an arrow, 
 Bright as light and swift as lightning, 
 Through the clear air of the mid-day, 
 Till it smote the Son of Morning, 
 Smote him where he smote earth s daughter. 
 And a stone stood where he had stood, 
 With a serpent coiled upon it.
 
 And a stone stood where he had stood 
 \Yith a serpent coiled upon it "
 
 Minneola 
 
 But the spirit of Swift Passion, 
 There released from the restraining 
 Hands of Love and kindly Patience, 
 Wanders hated, feared and homeless, 
 O er the earth for ages endless, 
 Seeking for a habitation 
 In the hearts that strive to shun him.
 
 4 Minneola 
 
 Old Waughkegan, by the wigwam, 
 Looking upward at the moment, 
 Saw the Hand that hurled the arrow, 
 Brighter far than many lightnings, 
 Brighter than the sun at noon-time, 
 And a shadow fell around him. 
 
 Darkness took the place of daylight, 
 His mid-day was turned to midnight, 
 And his sightless eyes would never 
 See his thousandth moon in this life. 
 
 Not a son of old Waughkegan 
 Yet had seen his thousandth new moon, 
 For the blindness fell upon them, 
 For their eyes were overshadowed, 
 If they lived the moons to count them. 
 
 But the stone man and stone woman 
 Have been worshipped by my people.
 
 Hut the stone man and stone woman 
 Nave been worshiped by my people.
 
 Minneola 
 
 Maids have worshipped Minneola, 
 Praying her to send a lover. 
 Men have worshipped Wilamansus, 
 Praying for success in hunting. 
 Many maidens have their answer, 
 Many men were often hungry. 
 
 For ten thousand moons unnumbered 
 In the vale by Rill of Rubic, 
 Where the streamlet flows to gladden, 
 And to clothe the earth with verdure. 
 
 In that green and pleasant valley, 
 There those forms have been for ages : 
 Earth s fair daughter, once forgetting 
 Swift to speed her willing footsteps, 
 All her welcome duty doing ; 
 Son of Morning, who had given 
 From his true heart pure devotion, 
 And in all his earthly journey
 
 8 Minneola 
 
 Once was lost in dreadful passion ; 
 Both wait there to be forgiven 
 At the great and final judgment, 
 When the hearts intentions govern, 
 And are measured in the verdict.
 
 Minneola 99 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 There the tribe remained and prospered, 
 And with plenty were surrounded ; 
 But forgot their adorations 
 To the Manito, Waughkegan 
 Daily worshipped in his lifetime. 
 
 They forgot the Source of blessings, 
 Of the seasons and the harvests, 
 Of the sunshine and the showers ; 
 Each was with himself contented, 
 And they worshiped many idols. 
 
 Then a tribe far in the north-land, 
 In the cold and cruel north-land, 
 Driven from their snow-capped wigwams 
 By the fierce and bitter North Wind, 
 Seeking for a milder climate 
 Where they d fix their habitations,
 
 ioo Minneola 
 
 Moved by tales of shorter winters, 
 Of fair lands exceeding fertile, 
 Of vast deer herds, past their counting, 
 Of the deep and wide sea-water, 
 And by dreams of endless conquest, 
 
 Turned their footsteps down the valleys 
 Of the streamlets southward flowing, 
 Guided by the flowing river, 
 As it journeyed to the deep sea, 
 
 Came unto the inland water, 
 Lying then beyond the mountain, 
 Where the hunters sought the trap-rock 
 For the axes and the arrows, 
 Necessary for their uses. 
 
 And they camped there for a season, 
 Levied tribute on the peoples, 
 All who dwelt within that region ; 
 For their hearts were cold and cruel 
 As the country whence they wandered.
 
 
 1 Wilamansus stood before her, 
 Smiling, saying, Minneola," 
 
 [69]
 
 Minneola 101 
 
 And our tribesmen in the valley, 
 In the Rubic s peaceful valley, 
 Heard the story of their prowess, 
 Of their hard and stern exactions. 
 
 How they forced the men to labor, 
 Drove the women into exile, 
 Brought the maids within their wigwams, 
 And their services commanded. 
 How they banished hope and laughter 
 From the lodges of the people 
 Where their hated steps extended. 
 
 And the hearts of all the tribesmen, 
 Filled with sad and dire forebodings, 
 Where before contentment flourished. 
 
 But as yet the inland water, 
 In the great sea past the mountain, 
 Kept them from our peaceful valley ; 
 And we trusted they would never 
 Look beyond, or seek to cross it, 
 But the trust was disappointed.
 
 IO2 Minneola 
 
 For the} made them ships to sail in, 
 Made canoes from trunks of great trees, 
 Sailed across the inland water, 
 Sailed across the sea Hokannum, 
 And descending yonder mountain, 
 Came within our own dominions. 
 
 Made their camp where now the pale-face 
 Builds his sturdy habitations, 
 On the banks of the Great River ; 
 And oppressed the peaceful people, 
 Till their hearts were rilled with sorrow, 
 All their days with disappointment, 
 And their lives with fear and hatred. 
 
 In that sore and hard oppression, 
 They remembered how Waughkegan, 
 When the morning star was shining, 
 Offered daily adoration 
 Unto Him, the Great Protector, 
 Unto Manito the Spirit. 
 So they cried aloud to heaven.
 
 Minneola 
 
 For relief from the oppressor. 
 For return of peace and plenty, 
 For the happy days of past time. 
 
 And the Ear that always listens 
 Heard and understood their pleading, 
 For their scourging was sufficient. 
 
 Deep down in the trap-rock mountain, 
 Which held back the sea Hokannum, 
 There were seeds of dissolution. 
 
 And the ages of erosion, 
 Of the winds and of the winters, 
 And of Time s relentless fingers, 
 Forced their way through the foundations 
 In the deep heart of the mountain, 
 And awaited His commandment. 
 
 On a day in Indian summer, 
 Day of days, when earth seems sweeter 
 Than at any other season,
 
 104. Minneola 
 
 All our people had assembled 
 On the crest of Mount Waughkegan, 
 Quite determined to flee eastward, 
 And escape the stern exactions 
 Of the hard and cruel Northmen. 
 
 From the highest peak of mountain, 
 They looked backward o er the home-land, 
 Where they d lived and loved and labored, 
 Where the days of youth they d squandered, 
 Where the full fruits of their manhood 
 They had reaped in by-gone seasons. 
 
 Where the ashes of their people 
 Rested in the sun-hid valleys ; 
 Where the spirits of their fathers 
 Loved to come, and sometimes wander 
 O er again the trails they d followed 
 In the years of their probation. 
 
 So they lingered, loath to leave these, 
 Loath to leave the fragrant meadows 
 And their happy homes forever.
 
 Minneola 105 
 
 While they offered adoration, 
 Rose a zephyr in the forest, 
 Just a whirling little eddy, 
 In the shadows of the oak trees, 
 Somewhere in the deeper shadows. 
 
 Whence it started, none could tell them, 
 \Vhy it started, none imagined. 
 It was just a little whirlwind, 
 Starting in among the oak trees, 
 Such as they had often witnessed 
 In the days of Indian summer. 
 
 And it swept in graceful circles 
 Past the tribe with their possessions, 
 Down the mountain s side descending, 
 Whirling gracefully in circles. 
 
 Now a little way on this side, 
 Then a little way on that side, 
 Sure and rapidly descending, 
 Till it reached the spreading meadows, 
 And swept on across the valley,
 
 106 Minneola 
 
 Fast toward the Northwest Mountain. 
 Gaining strength with every movement, 
 Sweeping everything before it, 
 Till it grew a mighty torrent, 
 Black and frightful to the vision, 
 Weird and awful to the hearing. 
 
 Caught the oak trees in its pathway, 
 Tossed them off to one side, lightly 
 As a child will toss the dry leaves 
 Of the forest in his playing. 
 
 Onward, swiftly on, its course was, 
 Leaving trail of wide destruction, 
 With the roar of many thunders, 
 With the might of many monsters, 
 Till it smote the traprock mountain, 
 Smote it with the fist of Titan 
 At the place where it was weakest. 
 Where the ages of erosion, 
 And of time s relentless fingers,
 
 Minneola ioj 
 
 Found the seeds of dissolution, 
 And laid bare the deep foundations. 
 
 Rent and tossed the rocks, like playthings, 
 Hurled them far into the distance : 
 Made a pathway for the waters 
 Of the inland sea, Hokannum, 
 To its marriage with the waters 
 Of the mighty waste of ocean. 
 
 Like a maid, the sea was willing 
 To be wedded with the ocean, 
 And embraced by its strong currents. 
 
 For the inland life was narrow, 
 Dull and irksome to its spirit, 
 And the winds that beat its bosom 
 Only served to stir the surface, 
 Without reaching deeply downward 
 To its hungry heart, and lonesome. 
 
 Hungry for the restless motion 
 Of the tides forever flowing. 
 Lonesome for the wild commotion
 
 io8 Minneola 
 
 Of the storms on ocean beating. 
 
 So it leaped into the pathway, 
 Made by time and by the whirlwind, 
 Made by ages of erosion, 
 And with instinct born of freedom 
 Ran like wild deer to the wedding. 
 
 On the plains below the mountain, 
 And upon the wide Long Meadow, 
 Dwelt the hard and cruel Northmen, 
 Dwelt the tribe of our oppressors. 
 
 And they saw their doom approaching, 
 Saw, but could not flee before it. 
 
 Wide and wider spread the horror, 
 Loud and louder roared the torrent, 
 High and higher rose the billows, 
 Sure and surer their destruction. 
 
 Filled with sediment the waters, 
 With the sediment of ages, 
 Gathered in the sea Hokannum, 
 And it flowed around their ankles,
 
 Minneola 109 
 
 Round the knees and to the waist line, 
 To the breasts and to the shoulders, 
 Higher yet it flowed around them, 
 Upward still, and there entombed them. 
 
 Hardly left remaining one man 
 Of the tribe of the oppressors 
 Of my people, in the old time. 
 
 But the waters, soon subsiding, 
 Left a trail of soil behind them, 
 Deeper than the tallest hunter, 
 Filled with graves of crafty Northmen. 
 
 If you wander through the valleys, 
 And will delve among their sand hills, 
 You may find the bones they left there ; 
 
 Some erect with arms extended, 
 Pointing to the hills of safety, 
 
 Some with arms around each other, 
 Meeting thus their fate together, 
 
 Some with bodies early fallen, 
 Rest recumbent through the seasons. 
 
 7
 
 no Minneola 
 
 And the children s bones are with them, 
 All awaiting there the summons 
 To the great and final judgment, 
 When the deeds they did in life-time 
 Will pass in review before them, 
 And determine their condition 
 In the days of the hereafter. 
 
 While the footsteps of the ages 
 Move with measured tread above them. 
 
 But the pathway through the mountain, 
 (Which you call the Holyoke Mountain,) 
 Where the awful whirlwind smote it, 
 Still remains a way for waters, 
 From the snows of bitter winters, 
 In the far lands to the northward. 
 
 Pathway for the flowing river 
 On its journey to the salt sea. 
 
 And the island sea, Hokannum, 
 (Which your people call Northampton), 
 Drained away were all its waters.
 
 Minneola in 
 
 So its bed is now the dry land, 
 Where the grass and maize are growing. 
 
 On the crest of Mount Waughkegan, 
 Horror stricken stood our tribesmen, 
 And beheld the visitation ; 
 Saw the awful visitation 
 Of the wrath of the Great Spirit 
 On the tribe of their oppressors. 
 
 And their hearts were filled with wonder, 
 And with love for their Protector, 
 Who had wrought the great salvation 
 From their hard and cruel masters. 
 
 So they offered adoration 
 At the evening, as at morning. 
 
 But they fled not to the eastward, 
 For the dreaded tribe was vanquished ; 
 Vanquished by an Arm so mighty 
 That they trembled to recall it, 
 For they d seen the visitation.
 
 112 Minneola 
 
 So returning to their wigwams, 
 With new purposes established, 
 They resumed the occupations 
 By that day thus interrupted. 
 
 But they loved the rolling hillside, 
 Loved the high ground of the mountain, 
 And were fearful of the meadows. 
 
 They were not contented, ever, 
 Long to dwell upon the low lands, 
 
 For the hills received the sunlight, 
 First at morning, last at evening, 
 And the floods would not o erflow them.* 
 
 * Geologists agree that at some period in the history of the Con 
 necticut valley, a vast inland sea existed in the vicinity of the pres 
 ent city of Northampton, Mass., retained by the Holyoke range of 
 mountains, through which a passage was finally forced. Excava 
 tions made within the present year, and within the past twenty 
 years, below the mountain, have unearthed skeletons, in such un 
 usual positions, as to indicate that they had been submerged in some 
 flood, and buried in the soil which the water contained.
 
 Minneola 113 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Generations of my fathers 
 Came and went, and only leaving 
 Scarce the imprint of their footsteps 
 On the trail the tribesmen traveled, 
 Chasing each across earth s surface 
 As the summer clouds at mid-day 
 Chase each other in the heavens ;
 
 Minneola 
 
 Swiftly as the fleeting shadows 
 Follow each across the meadows, 
 Till they peopled hill and valley. 
 And the smoke from many wigwams 
 Oft ascended at the sunset.
 
 " Where those evening fires were kindled, 
 When the smoke from many wigwams 
 Oft ascended at the sunset." 
 
 ["Si
 
 Minneola 117 
 
 After unrecorded ages 
 Then unto my father s wigwam, 
 Unto Chief Waushuman s wigwam, 
 Weshaugan came one morning 
 When the sun was brightly shining. 
 Only daughter of my father. 
 Youngest child of Chief Waushuman, 
 Welcomed was I to his wigwam.
 
 n8 Minneola 
 
 Quickly grew I into girlhood, 
 Filled with many childish fancies ; 
 When my father came at evening 
 From his hunting on the mountain, 
 Swiftly ran I out to meet him, 
 Seized his bow and took his arrow, 
 Strode before him to the wigwam, 
 I the hunter was, pretending, 
 Who had caught the game he brought us.
 
 Seized his bow and took his arrow, 
 Strode before him to the wigwam, 
 I the hunter was, pretending, 
 
 [119]
 
 Minneola 121 
 
 And my father entered into 
 All my childish pranks and playing, 
 Never chiding, nor restraining 
 Aught the flow of my free spirits. 
 
 All the lore my mother taught me, 
 Of the tribes and of the tribesmen, 
 All the tales of Spirits ranging 
 On the earth, or heavenward soaring ; 
 Through the realms of air and water, 
 Through the realms of earth and nature, 
 For men s hurt or for their pleasure ; 
 
 How the dove o erhead high flying, 
 Swiftly passes far to southward, 
 When the grave receives its tenant, 
 To inform the passed on tribesmen 
 That another soul will join them 
 From the green fields of the homeland, 
 From the fields they loved in past time ;
 
 122 Minneola 
 
 How the rainbow arch of heaven 
 Spanning eastern sky at evening, 
 Makes a trail for chosen tribesmen, 
 Over the abyss unfathomed 
 Into hunter s fields Elysian, 
 In the home of the hereafter ; 
 
 How the crescent moon low hanging 
 In the western sky at evening, 
 Shows to any tribesman watching, 
 Whether twill be dry or wet one. 
 
 If the lower horn of crescent 
 Makes a place where Indian hunter 
 Hangs his bow with entire safety, 
 With like safety may he journey 
 Without thought of rain storms falling, 
 For the moon will be a dry one.
 
 Minneola 123 
 
 If that horn is earthward turning, 
 Let him gather fire logs many, 
 Stray not far away from wigwam, 
 For the moon will be a wet one. 
 
 Taught me all the wigwam legends 
 Of my people, since Waughkegan 
 Brought his young bride from the Quaboag ; 
 
 And she taught me how to neatly 
 Keep the wigwam of my father, 
 Or of any lonesome young man 
 Who should seek me in the future.
 
 124 Minneola 
 
 And the season, swiftly passing, 
 Came and went, nor once delaying, 
 Writing changes on the faces 
 Of the fields and of the kindred 
 I had grown to love and cherish, 
 Till two hundred moons I d counted, 
 Hanging just above the sunset ; 
 
 When the sods of yonder hill-side 
 Hid from me my mother s features, 
 Then I kept my father s wigwam 
 In the ways my mother kept it.
 
 Till two hundred moons I d counted, 
 Hanging just above the sunset." 
 
 [25]
 
 Minneola 127 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Soon the pale-face built their lodges 
 On the banks along the river, 
 The Great River, Quinecticut, 
 And the smoke from those strange cabins, 
 When their morning fires were kindled, 
 Filled the valley like a fog cloud, 
 Floated breeze-borne to the mountain. 
 
 Restless, anxious, grew the tribesmen, 
 With the dread of danger lurking, 
 In the advent of a stranger, 
 With new ways and guns of thunder, 
 Come perchance to seize or hunt on 
 The inheritance our fathers 
 Had bequeathed us as our birthright 
 In the days when they were dying.
 
 128 Minn eo la 
 
 Beacon fires upon the mountain, 
 On the crest of Mount Waughkegan, 
 Blazed for four nights until midnight, 
 Lighted by the younger tribesmen. 
 
 From the vales and glades and meadows, 
 From their fishing by the rivers, 
 From the forests deep recesses, 
 On the trails the fathers traveled ; 
 Through the winding lanes of forest, 
 On the crest of mountain ridges, 
 Or along the verdant valleys, 
 
 Came the hunters from their hunting, 
 Came the fishers from their fishing, 
 Summoned by the fourfold beacon ; 
 
 And the harvest moon was shining, 
 In his place high up in heaven ; 
 
 Moon when stores of maize we gather, 
 For the dreary moons of winter, 
 When the days of Indian summer 
 Clothe the hills and meadows, cover
 
 Minneola 129 
 
 With a haze o er all prevailing. 
 Only known in that brief season, 
 To those autumn days peculiar. 
 
 Days for rest and not for striving, 
 Days for love and not repining, 
 Rest and love, alas, they come not 
 At our bidding or our seeking. 
 
 All my brothers and the tribesmen, 
 Knowing well the pale-face wished it, 
 Ventured to persuade my father, 
 That he sell the hills and streamlets, 
 Sell the rills and vales and meadows, 
 And trail off with them to westward, 
 
 Far away towards the sunset, 
 To a land where game was plenty, 
 Where the white man had not ventured ; 
 
 And my lover was their leader. 
 
 Tall was he and quick as bowstring, 
 Youth was his and hope was glowing.
 
 ijo Minneola 
 
 I had made his suit of buckskin, 
 Trimmed it with the claws of beaver 
 He had caught in Beaver Meadow ; 
 
 With the feathers from the eagle 
 He had captured on the mountain, 
 With the teeth of bear and bison 
 From the prairies of the sunset ; 
 
 With the beads my father gathered 
 In his trading with the pale-face, 
 With the skill my mother taught me 
 I had made and trimmed it for him. 
 
 Lingered I to hear his pleading. 
 Thus he said when all were gathered : 
 
 " Father of the valley tribesmen, 
 Chieftain of the mountain region ; 
 
 Deer are scarce upon the meadows, 
 Pale-face camps along the rivers, 
 Room for us and them there is not. 
 We must either go or they must.
 
 Minneola 131 
 
 And the time to make decision 
 Is before the fates compel us. 
 
 Wives that once our wigwams brightened 
 With their cheerful ways and kindly, 
 Now are silent with foreboding, 
 And their fires are dull at evening. 
 
 In the place of shouts and laughter, 
 And the happy childhood voices, 
 Now we hear the children crying 
 When they see the hunters coming 
 Empty handed down the mountain ; 
 
 For the hated wolves of hunger 
 Often look within the wigwams, 
 And our hearts are sore and saddened 
 By complaining wives and children, 
 When we have no meat for eating ; 
 
 And the lakes of Walamusa 
 Yield not fish as once for catching ; 
 
 All the voices we hear calling, 
 Voices are of want and weeping, 
 And our lives are wearied with them.
 
 132 Minn co la 
 
 High upon the mountain ledges, 
 Where we look in vain for traces 
 Of the game on trails abandoned ; 
 Down along the lakelet s beaches, 
 When we vainly seek for fishes, 
 In the waters once prolific ; 
 
 Whether on the mountain ridges, 
 Or by Walamusa s waters, 
 Or upon the trails abandoned, 
 Comes a voice with note of welcome, 
 Borne to us on every west wind, 
 
 Bringing urgent invitation 
 To forget the days behind us, 
 And push onward to the westward, 
 To a home where lieth plenty ; 
 In the land towards the sunset, 
 Where the beacon lights are shining, 
 Lighting up an open pathway 
 To a better life in future.
 
 Minneola 
 
 We have seen the sun at evening 
 Slowly sinking to his setting, 
 Painting all the clouds above him 
 Tints of red and gray and golden. 
 We have felt that every sunset, 
 With its thousand streaming fingers, 
 Was a beacon set to guide us, 
 Rays of light the way to light us. 
 
 Golden waits the future for us, 
 In a land that beckons to us ; 
 These have wrought the spell upon us. 
 Off to trail and leave behind us 
 All these wornout scenes and pastures. 
 
 As Waughkegan, westward trailing, 
 In the days that are forgotten, 
 When the earth was in its morning, 
 Found conditions here which pleased him 
 We will take his course abandoned, 
 And in newer fields of effort 
 Seek to better our condition.
 
 134 Minn eo la 
 
 Land alone without the deer herds, 
 Will not shelter or support us. 
 If we linger here we perish. 
 When the pale-face comes to purchase, 
 Sell the land, we humbly pray you, 
 Give to each of us his portion, 
 And to other homes we ll hasten."
 
 Minneola 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Then my father, Chief Waushuman, 
 Chieftain of the mountain region, 
 Thus addressed them, " Sons and tribesmen, 
 You have spoken well and wisely. 
 If my eyes as bright as once were, 
 If my footsteps light as once were, 
 If my years as few as once were, 
 I would lead you on your journey, 
 I would lead to that far country. 
 
 But the moons will not turn backward, 
 Time runs ever swiftly forward, 
 Always winter follows summer, 
 And my moons are almost numbered. 
 
 Coming here from whence I know not, 
 Going hence to place I know not.
 
 ij6 Minneola 
 
 Asked not if I would or would not, 
 Told not why it was or why not, 
 
 Here in careless youth my footsteps 
 Entered on my earthly journey ; 
 With the slightest knowledge only, 
 Of the way that lay before me ; 
 Working out each day and daily, 
 Problems which each day presented. 
 
 Now the end is fast approaching. 
 On a path into the darkness, 
 Messenger to land I know not, 
 On the trail my fathers traveled, 
 My unwilling feet will bear me ; 
 
 Soon a weary, wornout hunter, 
 Without either bow or arrow, 
 Without weapons, without wampum, 
 Helpless as the world first saw me, 
 Sightless to my destination, 
 
 On remote and shining planet, 
 Stately marching through the distance,
 
 Minneola 137 
 
 Which I oft have watched with wonder, 
 Of the Master Mind that made it. 
 And through paths of space directs it. 
 Paths so vast that minds of mortals 
 Cannot know or comprehend it, 
 Cannot measure or conceive it, 
 
 There to enter the condition 
 For which lifetime of probation 
 In this world of change was granted 
 
 To prepare me there to enter ; 
 And abide with One who knoweth 
 All the trials and temptations, 
 All the hopes and expectations, 
 All the aims and aspirations, 
 Of the souls of sinful mortals. 
 
 I can almost hear the footsteps 
 Of the messenger to call me, 
 And I know that I must meet him, 
 Soon somewhere alone shall meet him, 
 Where the pathway of the present
 
 Minneola 
 
 Ends in pathway to the future, 
 On the trail to the hereafter. 
 
 Trusting only He will lead me 
 Through the green and pleasant valleys, 
 Or upon high Arch of Heaven, 
 Unto hunters fields Elysian ; 
 
 There to take the place assigned me, 
 Where the tribes of men will gather 
 In the home of the hereafter ; 
 Thus the bonds of earth to sever 
 In the land of the forever. 
 
 Hope alone lights up a beacon, 
 That some loved one there is waiting 
 To extend a hand of welcome, 
 With a well-remembered greeting, 
 And direct my way-worn footsteps 
 To the Happy Habitations." 
 
 Bury not with my abandoned, 
 Wornout tenement, and worthless,
 
 Minneola 139 
 
 Any tokens of affection 
 
 Which you might yourselves have shown me, 
 
 When I needed brave, bright words to 
 
 Hold my heart up to its duty, 
 
 In some time of disappointment, 
 
 W 7 hen the light of life seemed fading, 
 
 And you came not to my rescue. 
 
 For a gift of smallest flower, 
 From the forest s dark recesses, 
 Of more value in one s lifetime, 
 To man s lonely, anxious spirit, 
 Than the blossoms of the meadows 
 Heaped upon its senseless casket. 
 
 Wasted are such testimonies, 
 For " TOO LATE " is stamped upon them, 
 And the eyes you might have brightened 
 See not in the silent darkness, 
 Whither all mankind are going. 
 And the ears, grown dull with waiting, 
 Nevermore will hear the music 
 Of the song you might have sung them.
 
 14.0 Minneola 
 
 Here Waughkegan built his wigwam, 
 When the earth was in its morning, 
 Here Waushuman will be waiting 
 For the summons. Soon tis coming. 
 When the pale-face comes to-morrow, 
 Then to them I sell the home land, 
 
 Only for my use reserving 
 Fish that swim in Walamusa 
 And the streams that flow to southward ; 
 Deer that feed on Mount Waughkegan, 
 And the hills and vales adjacent." 
 
 Then my lover came to meet me, 
 With his outstretched hand, and saying, 
 " W T eshaugan, I have wooed you, 
 And I love you. Go you with us ?" 
 
 But I answered, " Since my mother 
 Folded up her hands one sunset, 
 Since my father felt the blindness
 
 Minneola 
 
 Daily growing deeper on him, 
 I have kept his lonely wigwam, 
 As my mother always kept it. 
 While he needs me, I will keep it." 
 
 Then to me the young man answered, 
 " Ere a hundred moons have risen, 
 In the western sky at evening, 
 Or six summer s suns are followed 
 By the autumn s frosty mornings. 
 From our new and spacious wigwam, 
 From a home where plenty dwelleth, 
 In the pleasant land of sunset, 
 I will quickly come to claim you, 
 Fair and winsome Weshaugan." 
 And he kissed me for the first time.
 
 142 Minn e ola 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 On the morning of the morrow, 
 When the sun was high in heaven, 
 Through the valley came the pale-face, 
 Slow and stately, like trees walking, 
 In some tribal grand procession. 
 
 Came the many like as one man. 
 Moving with the power of many, 
 Came they onward to the forest. 
 
 On their heads were hats like pine cones, 
 Broad brims spreading like the mushrooms, 
 Clothed their bodies were in home-spun, 
 Which their women deftly wove them.
 
 Minneola 
 
 On their feet were shoes of cow-skin, 
 Hard to wear and hard to walk in, 
 But of value for protection. 
 
 Round their waists were belts of ox-hide, 
 Bullet pouches thence suspended. 
 Carved was every horn of powder, 
 By the side of each man hanging, 
 
 And on every sturdy shoulder, 
 Slanting lay their deadly muskets, 
 Feared and dreaded by my people. 
 
 All their faces were full bearded, 
 Nourished well were all their bodies, 
 Not a sign of weakness on them, 
 Not a claw of bear or beaver, 
 Not of bird or fowl a feather, 
 Not of paint the slightest token, 
 
 To adorn their somber clothing, 
 To entice the heart of maiden ; 
 Or make sad the heart of rival 
 With a showing of their prowess.
 
 144 Minneola 
 
 Not thus strides the Indian hunter 
 In pursuit of game or foeman, 
 For with stealthy, fox-like footsteps 
 Steals he softly through the forest, 
 Treading not on bush or dry branch, 
 Stirring not the leaves he walks on, 
 
 Lest the crackle of the branches 
 Or the rustle of the dry leaves 
 Startle that for which he seeketh ; 
 Sends the red deer through the forest, 
 So his arrow scarce o ertakes it 
 But to wound and not disable ; 
 
 Sends the game beyond his bow-shot, 
 So his arrow cannot reach it. 
 And the trail he still must follow, 
 Warns the foeman to be wary, 
 Or his life may pay the forfeit.
 
 Minneola 
 
 When the pale-face reached the forest, 
 Off they flung their horns of powder, 
 Laid aside their trusty muskets, 
 Which could speak with voice of thunder, 
 Which could light a flash of lightning, 
 Which could fling a leaden pellet 
 
 Swifter far than any arrow, 
 Farther far than any bowstring, 
 Truer far than Indian hunter, 
 Till it caught the red deer running, 
 Till it overtook and slew him. 
 
 So without their dreaded weapons, 
 Only with their unknown writing, 
 Marched they on into the forest, 
 Came they to Waushuman s wigwam 
 At the foot of Mount Waughkegan. 
 
 And their footsteps all at one time 
 Smote upon the sounding hill-side, 
 Till the kind earth seemed to tremble, 
 Shrinking from unwelcome strangers.
 
 146 Minneola 
 
 So with pomp and pride of numbers, 
 So with craft and wiles of hunters, 
 Came they all into the council, 
 Sat them down in semi-circles, 
 
 On the one side bearded pale-face, 
 On the other, Indian hunters. 
 And my father sat between them 
 At the far side of the circle, 
 
 I stood by him to apprise him, 
 And assist his failing eyesight. 
 Brought the Peace Pipe from its covert, 
 In the heart of oak tree hidden, 
 Placed a live coal deftly in it, 
 
 Passed it round to every member, 
 As they sat there without speaking, 
 Till the fragrant odor, filling 
 All their senses with contentment, 
 Overspread the silent council.
 
 " Brought the Peace Pipe from its covert 
 In the heart of oak tree hidden." 
 
 [i47]
 
 Minneola 
 
 Then the pale-face chieftain, standing 
 By his seat within the circle, 
 From his breast produced the writing, 
 Thus addressed the Indian chieftain 
 And the tribesmen waiting by him : 
 
 " Brothers, from afar we ve traveled, 
 Come from far across the ocean, 
 On that mighty waste of waters 
 Many moons we sailed across them ; 
 While the great canoe that bore us 
 Tossed for days on waves around us, 
 High as mountains, deep as valleys, 
 Threatening often to engulf us. 
 
 But we held our course to westward, 
 Trusting that the Manito we 
 Worshipped, safe would bring us through the 
 Billows. Safely thus he brought us 
 To the Chiefdom of Waushuman, 
 By the mountains of Waughkegan. 
 
 9
 
 750 Minneola 
 
 And our purpose is thus stated : 
 We would till the hills and meadows, 
 We would cultivate the valleys, 
 We would prune the groves and forests 
 And subdue them to our uses, 
 Till the land will feed a hundred 
 Where but one the Indian feedeth. 
 
 We would tell benighted heathen 
 Of a day in distant past-time 
 When the Son of the Great Spirit, 
 He, the first to break the fetters 
 Which the enemy of all men 
 Lays upon them all in due time ; 
 
 Risen from the death that claimed Him, 
 Bade us teach to every nation 
 The redemption He had purchased 
 For their souls from wrongs committed, 
 For their trespasses and sinning, 
 For the deeds done in the body ;
 
 Miuneola 
 
 How the Manito restores them 
 To that once pure state in Eden 
 Which was lost through wiles of Tempter ; 
 
 How the Manito forgives them 
 And a place prepares in heaven 
 For the souls His Son has quickened. 
 
 We might come to you with muskets, 
 Spouting fire and leaden bullets, 
 With the sound of many thunders 
 To compel your acquiescence. 
 
 But we come with strings of Wampum, 
 Come with beads and cloth and feathers, 
 We have smoked the Peace Pipe with you. 
 And our purpose is by purchase 
 To secure the lands we covet, 
 Which no longer will support you."
 
 152 Minneola 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 And the Chief Waushuman answered, 
 " Brothers of the bearded faces, 
 We have listened to your purpose, 
 Skillfully and justly stated. 
 
 It is true that Indian hunter 
 Cannot till the land he loveth, 
 Cannot cultivate the valleys, 
 Cannot make the hills and meadows 
 Yield him food to stay his hunger, 
 Yield him raiment for the winter, 
 Cannot till the earth as you can ; 
 
 But must have wide fields to roam in, 
 Forests deep to trail and hunt in, 
 Or the game will grow too wary, 
 And the hunger seize upon him.
 
 Minneola 
 
 All around, our fathers ashes 
 Fill uncounted graves in this land ; 
 All around, our fathers footprints 
 Rest on every tuft and hillock, 
 And the trails we daily follow, 
 All were beaten by their footsteps. 
 
 Here our happy days of childhood 
 Ran away too quickly from us. 
 Here in early youth was taught us 
 All the wiles of game and hunters. 
 Here the moons of manhood found us, 
 Each day striving for conditions 
 Better than in days departed. 
 
 All the dear associations 
 Of our lives lie here around us. 
 
 All the hopes and aspirations 
 Of our youth come up before us ; 
 But we cannot live on these things,
 
 1 54. Minneola 
 
 And must seek in deeper forests 
 For the game that s here denied us. 
 
 Go I cannot, and my daughter 
 Stays to be the eyes I have not, 
 Till I cross to fields Elysian 
 On the rainbow arch of heaven. 
 
 Bring the Writing, I will sign it, 
 While my hand my daughter guideth, 
 And the tribesmen also wish it." 
 
 Then the chieftain of the pale-face 
 Laid the writing out before him, 
 Spread it out before W aushuman, 
 Chieftain of the mountain region. 
 
 With the ink the pen was nourished, 
 While I placed it in his fingers, 
 And his hand unseeing guided 
 As " his mark " upon the Writing 
 Broad and clear and true he made it ; 
 Unrevocable he made it, 
 And the tribesmen all were witness.
 
 Minneola 755 
 
 But my heart was sad and weeping 
 With forebodings of the future. 
 
 I had seen them in a vision 
 Trailing westward, few and feeble, 
 Cold and hungry, wet and lonely, 
 On the bleak and barren hill-sides, 
 On the wind-swept mountain ridges, 
 Through the swamps and vales and marshes. 
 
 Crossing rivers swiftly running, 
 Saw canoes capsized in mid-stream, 
 And some lost in deepest waters. 
 Saw the hot-faced fever, trailing 
 Swift or slow, but always with them, 
 And some left along the wayside. 
 
 Saw them meeting tribes much larger, 
 Meeting other tribes much fiercer, 
 Saw them fighting for a passage 
 Through the forests of the foemen ; 
 Saw the young men falling, filling
 
 1 5 6 Minneola 
 
 Unmarked graves within the forest ; 
 Saw the old men take the places 
 Of the fallen in the battle, 
 Soon to fall themselves, in other 
 Unremembered graves and places. 
 
 Saw the women, maids and children 
 Scattered to the winds of heaven, 
 So I lost them in my vision. 
 
 Then they asked the Chief Waushuman 
 High to hold his hand to heaven, 
 And affirm by the Great Spirit 
 He without compulsion signed it. 
 
 " No," my father answered, quickly, 
 " Chieftain s word needs no attesting, 
 And the Indian swears not by the 
 Manito, the One Great Spirit, 
 Who hath made and fed and keeps him ; 
 
 Neither by His messengers nor 
 By the angels that attend Him,
 
 Minneola 757 
 
 Who, His messages receiving, 
 Bear them far on wings, the lightning 
 Cannot even overtake them ; 
 Unto stars, or worlds emerging 
 From the chaos which has ruled them, 
 And with darkness overspread them, 
 An eternity of ages. 
 
 Waiting patiently the coming 
 Of the angel with His message, 
 That the Light shall conquer darkness, 
 And lost worlds shall take their places 
 In the stately concourse, moving 
 Through the realms of space so distant. 
 
 We can never comprehend it, 
 Cannot even estimate it. 
 Speculation lost and speechless 
 Stands before the mystery of it. 
 
 We the deed have signed it freely, 
 Yours the land by rightful purchase. 
 Soon the tribe begins the journey
 
 I $8 Minneola 
 
 Leading them to that far country, 
 On a trail their dreams have shown them, 
 Which the sun of evening lighteth 
 With a beacon from the sunset. 
 
 Only I and Weshaugan 
 Will remain a few moons longer, 
 Till the Manito shall call me, 
 Till the lover comes to take her 
 To a new home in the future. 
 
 Comrades we have been in past-time, 
 Comrades we will be till parted."
 
 Minn eo la 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 When the deed was executed 
 And the purchase price divided, 
 All the tribe were much elated. 
 Swift the hunters formed a circle, 
 Round the Chief and bearded pale-face, 
 
 Hand clasped hand with nearest tribesman, 
 Knee touched knee, and in the Glad Dance 
 Swiftly round the circle whirled they, 
 Footsteps falling all at one time, 
 Arms upraised and quickly falling, 
 Keeping time with flying footsteps ; 
 
 Voices calling in full concert, 
 Voices chanting in the glad dance 
 Words remembered from the fathers.
 
 160 Minneola 
 
 " We will take the trail to westward, 
 Beacon lighted by the sunset, 
 We will make us newer wigwams 
 In the sunlit land of promise." 
 W T hile their eyes shone with a gladness 
 Like the sunshine in the morning. 
 
 All the squaws and children gathered 
 On the outside of the circle, 
 While the maids cheered on the young men, 
 Chanting with them in the chorus. 
 
 And the pale-faced, bearded strangers 
 Looked with eyes both keen and kindly. 
 As the mothers watch their children 
 Playing in the summer evenings ; 
 
 But the kind earth-mother shuddered 
 And shrank from their joyous footsteps. 
 
 Thus the Chieftain and my people 
 Sold the hills and rills and rivers, 
 Sold the dales and vales and meadows,
 
 Minneola 161 
 
 Sold the lakes and fields and forests, 
 Sold the deer and bear and beaver, 
 Sold the ashes of their fathers, 
 Sold the mountains of Waughkegan, 
 
 Sold them for some strings of wampum, 
 Sold them for some beads and feathers, 
 Sold them for a " Mess of Pottage." 
 
 As your minister was reading 
 Only yesterday at evening, 
 From his Great Book of Creation, 
 From those legends of the past-time, 
 
 How the hungry hunter, Esau, 
 Sold the birth-right to his brother, 
 With more thought of present pleasure 
 Than the gift of God the Father. 
 
 Then the squaws a feast provided, 
 Laid it out before the strangers 
 Laid it out to every tribesman, 
 While I waited on Waushuman.
 
 1 62 Minneola 
 
 Feast of deer flesh and of berries, 
 Feast of maize and early acorns, 
 Fish from lakes of Walamusa, 
 Quail from mountains of Waughkegan. 
 
 Set it out in soapstone dishes 
 From the quarries of Walnokim, 
 From the ovens where he baked them, 
 In the unrecorded ages 
 When the Chieftain, old Waughkegan, 
 Gave a deer in barter for them. 
 
 Set a feast before the council, 
 Of the best their stores afforded. 
 None went hungry from the feasting, 
 And I passed again the Peace Pipe.
 
 " None went hungry from the feasting 
 And I passed again the Peace Pipe." 
 
 [163]
 
 Minneola 16$ 
 
 Then the bearded strangers, forming 
 Into ranks as in the morning 
 Strode away, each footstep falling 
 Where the footsteps of the others 
 Had just left the grass up-springing ; 
 
 And the cadence of their foot-falls 
 Sounding on the verdant hill-side, 
 Seemed to me to be repeating, 
 " Now, by just and lawful purchase, 
 We are masters of the chiefdom 
 Of the mountains of Waughkegan. 
 
 And the dear earth knew its master.
 
 1 66 Minneola 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Soon the tribesmen with their deer flesh. 
 With their stores of maize and berries, 
 With their wigwams and their wampum, 
 Filled with dreamings of the future, 
 Trailed away toward the sunset.
 
 Minneola 167 
 
 I went with them to the river, 
 To the great stream southward flowing, 
 Broad Quinecticut, the river 
 Flowing through the wide, long meadow. 
 
 And the mists of morning lying 
 White and still upon the water, 
 Overlaid the flowing river, 
 So the farther shore we saw not, 
 
 As the old men with their paddles, 
 As the young men with their weapons, 
 As the women, maids and children, 
 Filled the bark canoes they d gathered 
 For the passage of the river. 
 
 Saw them push their boats from this shore, 
 Heard their keels grate on the sandbar, 
 Saw their dripping paddles dipping 
 In the deep, dark water flowing,
 
 1 68 Minneola 
 
 Saw them slowly slipping, slipping, 
 From my fog enshrouded vision, 
 As they glided from the homeland, 
 
 Glided out upon the river. 
 Passed within the mists of morning, 
 Vanished far from me forever. 
 
 But a voice came from the fog-cloud, 
 True and strong, a voice I loved well, 
 Saying, " Winsome Weshaugan, 
 I will quickly come to claim you." 
 
 And my heart went with the tribesmen, 
 But my eyes looked not to westward, 
 And my feet touched not the waters.
 
 " But my eyes looked not to westward 
 And my feet touched not the waters. 
 
 [169]
 
 Minneola 
 
 So returning to my father, 
 Day by day I kept his wigwam. 
 Daily grew his footsteps feebler, 
 Daily grew his darkness deeper, 
 
 As the inheritance entailed 
 On all sons of old Waughkegan, 
 For once looking on the shining 
 Hand of Manito the Mighty, 
 Slowly, surely came upon him. 
 
 And the days ran swiftly by me.
 
 IJ2 Minneola 
 
 Half a hundred moons had risen 
 For their race across the heaven, 
 And four summers suns were followed 
 By the autumn s frosty mornings ; 
 
 When, on sultry summer evening, 
 While the sky was black as night-time, 
 And the clouds rolled up like mountains, 
 And the thunder shook the wigwam, 
 And the oak was lightning-smitten, 
 And the rock-crowned hills seemed riven 
 By the arrows flashed from heaven, 
 And the rain in floods descending, 
 And the rill a river flowing, 
 
 Then my father, Blind Waushuman, 
 Chieftain of the mountain region, 
 On his couch lay, and I watching, 
 Footsteps heard of Wilamansus
 
 Minneola 173 
 
 Swift approaching on the mountain, 
 All unbidden and unwelcome, 
 Heard him coming, as for all men. 
 
 Footsteps heard without the cabin, 
 Round and round the wigwam passing, 
 And I heard, but saw not, someone 
 Entering within the doorway, 
 Without asking for permission ; 
 Stop beside the dying chieftain. 
 
 And my father heard the footsteps, 
 Smiled the visitor a welcome, 
 Folded up his hands at midnight, 
 And departed with the stranger. 
 
 Then, the storm to eastward passing, 
 While the lightning lit the forest, 
 And a dove flew through the tree-tops, 
 By the lightning s flash I saw it.
 
 Minneola 
 
 By the lightning s light I laid him, 
 So the shadow of the wigwam 
 Fell upon his grave at sunset. 
 Lonely then I kept the wigwam, 
 Whence my father had departed. 
 
 Sometimes since, on Mount Waughkegan, 
 Often since, on Wigwam hill-top,
 
 " Sometimes since on Mount Waughkegan, 
 Often since on Wigwam Hilltop " 
 
 [175]
 
 Minneola 
 
 Sometimes since, on Mount Waughkegan, 
 Often since, on Wigwam hill-top, 
 While the dew lay on the meadows, 
 When the shadows pointed westward, 
 As the shadows turned to northward, 
 Till the shadows lengthened eastward, 
 Till they vanished in the darkness, 
 
 I have waited for~the young man 
 In the buckskin suit I made him, 
 Who had kissed me on the forehead, 
 Who but only once had kissed me, 
 Coming from the west to claim me,
 
 Minneola 
 
 Saying, " I have wooed you, and I 
 Love you, winsome Weshaugan ; 
 Quickly have I come to claim you, 
 
 Come to take you to our wigwam, 
 In the pleasant land of sunset." 
 
 But he comes not, and to-morrow 
 I shall see my thousandth new moon.
 
 But he comes not and to-morrow 
 
 I shall see my thousandth new moon." 
 
 [i79J
 
 Minneola 181 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 So the tale of Weshaugan, 
 Of the Indian squaw was ended. 
 
 When she dieth no man knoweth, 
 Where she lieth no man knoweth. 
 Of that vanished race the last one. 
 
 Vanished like the shapes of dreamland, 
 Vanished like the forms of cloud-land, 
 Vanished like the deer and hunter, 
 From the hills and rills of homeland, 
 From the haunts and jaunts of tribesmen ; 
 
 Took the trail to join the young man 
 In the buckskin suit she made him, 
 Waiting for her in the new land, 
 In the fields beyond the sunset, 
 On the hills above the twilight, 
 In the home of the hereafter.
 
 182 Minneola 
 
 Weshaugan ! Weshaugan ! 
 Thrice a thousand moons have risen 
 Since you heard the voice of duty 
 Sounding in your heart from heaven ; 
 
 Since you stifled love and longing. 
 Since you slew desire, ambition, 
 And became a household angel 
 Unto one of earth s afflicted ; 
 And the action is recorded. 
 
 When the seals of time are broken, 
 And the Great Book lies wide open, 
 And the deeds of earth are spoken, 
 We may hear the Herald calling, 
 " Come up higher ! Come up higher ! 
 
 Weshaugan ! Weshaugan ! "
 
 " \Veshaugan ! Weshaugan ! 
 Thrice a thousand moons have risen 
 
 [183]
 
 Minneola 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Not all dream or flight of fancy 
 Of a mind that sees but darkly 
 Through the mists of years swift passing, 
 
 But a tale of life and living, 
 When the heaven sent voice of duty, 
 Louder called than love s sweet singing 
 In the hearts of some, whose footprints 
 Linger still upon the mountain, 
 
 Oft are found within the valleys. 
 
 For in springtime, ploughman sometimes, 
 As he thrusts his shining plowshare 
 Deep into the valley s bosom, 
 Turning thus his lengthening furrow 
 Through the fallow fields of autumn, 
 Moved to labor by self interest,
 
 1 86 Minneola 
 
 Hoping he may reap a harvest 
 Equal to his own ambition, 
 
 Brings to view the old fire places, 
 Smoke encrusted stones in circles, 
 With some fagots yet remaining, 
 Many ashes still adhering, 
 Where those evening fires were kindled, 
 When the smoke from many wigwams 
 
 Oft ascended at the sunset ; 
 
 Brings to view, and men may gather, 
 Arrow heads of flint and jasper, 
 Hoes and hatchets from the trap rock, 
 Which the northwest mountain gave them, 
 Dishes from the soapstone boulders 
 Which the glacier dead bequeathed them ; 
 
 W 7 hich that scarce remembered people, 
 Who have lived and loved and died here, 
 Who here wrought with skill the weapons, 
 And much cunning toil, utensils 
 Necessary for their uses.
 
 Minneola i8j 
 
 All remind us of the presence 
 
 In the half forgotten ages 
 
 Of another race of people 
 
 Who have walked and talked and wrought here. 
 
 Going hence, have left behind them 
 These, their many footprints, scattered 
 Over every hill and valley, 
 Through all the land we call our own. 
 
 These again the shining plowshare 
 Brings once more into the sunlight. 
 
 Time has laid his fingers on them 
 In the effort to subdue them, 
 Time relentless still pursues them. 
 
 Relics of the past we call them, 
 Voices from the past, they serve to 
 Tell us o er again the story 
 Of the days that have departed.
 
 i88 Minneola 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 There to-day the merry maidens 
 Chase the butterflies, or shadows 
 Of the summer clouds swift passing 
 Over all the grass-grown by-ways, 
 Now for many years abandoned, 
 Of the ancient Meeting House Lane, 
 Where in half forgotten ages 
 Children of the vanished races 
 Played around their fathers wigwams, 
 
 Trailed the quail along the ridges, 
 Caught the minnows in the waters, 
 Chased the butterflies or shadows.
 
 There to-day the merry maidens 
 Chase the butterflies or shadows.
 
 Minneola 
 
 Where in later times the fathers 
 W T ith severe and sombre faces, 
 Trod the way up to their Zion, 
 On each Sabbath day returning ; 
 
 Burning with a zeal heroic 
 To present the heathen peoples, 
 Clad in garments of their fitting, 
 At the altar of the Father.
 
 192 Minneola 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 There to-day the youthful farmer, 
 Waiting while his eager cattle 
 Quench their thirst within the streamlet, 
 Flowing as in days departed 
 Through the green and fragrant meadows, 
 Past the remnants of the wigwam 
 Of the " Old Squaw " Weshaugan, 
 Lying in the sun and shadow, 
 Where the tribesmen oft assembled ; 
 
 Seeth not the swift shapes flitting 
 On and over hill and valley ;
 
 There to-day the youthful farmer 
 Waiting while his eager cattle 
 
 [i93]
 
 Minneola 
 
 Spirit shapes, returned to visit 
 Earthly scenes they loved, and silent 
 Passing round the wasted ruins 
 Of that ancient habitation ; 
 Heareth not the stealthy footsteps 
 Which in distant days once followed 
 All the old trails on the mountain ; 
 
 Or the voices which have sounded 
 Through the winding lanes of forest, 
 And along the verdant valleys, 
 Or upon the rock-strewn hillside ; 
 
 Heedeth not the absent peoples, 
 With their hopes and loves and dreaming, 
 Who there strove with earth, reluctant 
 To obtain their scant subsistence, 
 And to-day are sweetly sleeping, 
 Peacefully and soundly sleeping, 
 Safe within earth s kindly bosom.
 
 i<}6 Minneola 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Still the streamlet northward flowing, 
 Meets the streamlet southward flowing, 
 Still they marry in the rill of 
 Rubic, winding through the valley, 
 Half in sunlight, half in shadow, 
 
 Rubicon, the peaceful valley.
 
 Minneola /<?/ 
 
 There the men and maidens strolling, 
 
 Without purpose, idly straying, 
 
 Meet by chance with some shy greeting, 
 
 As they met in by-gone ages, 
 
 And together careless wander 
 
 On the trail Waughkegan traveled, 
 
 Many thousand moons departed. 
 
 Still they gather ripe, red berries, 
 
 Which along the trail are growing, 
 
 Still the sweetest maidens answer 
 
 When their lovers come to ask them, 
 
 As that Indian maiden answered, 
 " If you wish it I am willing 
 You alone shall be my husband." 
 
 But the form of Minneola, 
 
 Fairest daughter of her father, 
 
 And the form of Wilamansus, 
 
 Straight as arrow, quick as bowstring,
 
 198 Minneola 
 
 We may see them in the valley, 
 When the sun has set his beacon, 
 With its thousand streaming fingers, 
 And the new moon is low hanging 
 In the western sky at evening, 
 And we dream of days in past-time, 
 
 Of the yesterday s departed.
 
 PEACE PIPE. 
 
 (lather all the waring peoples, 
 Pass the Peace Pipe round the circle. 
 Slay the spirit of Swift Passion, 
 Till sweet faith and love fraternal, 
 Fill the place that hate infernal 
 Fills in hearts of sinful mortals. 
 
 Hastening in the reign triumphant. 
 Of the Prince of Peace benignant. 
 
 [199]
 
 JI arson s
 
 In 1741, Rev. Noah Merrick was ordained and 
 settled as the first Pastor over the fourth precinct 
 of Springfield, now Wilbraham, Mass. In 1744, 
 he married Abigail Brainard, of Haddam, Conn. 
 On their journey on horseback to his parish she car 
 ried a slip of a rose bush from her old home, and 
 set it out by the new one. It was of a vigorous 
 kind, and thrived. Many slips were taken from it, 
 and some are still in existence. 
 
 The story was first told me when a child, by my 
 great aunt, who, in her youth was a near neighbor 
 of Mrs. Merrick, and knew her well. 
 
 A slip from the bush is growing by Mrs. Mer- 
 rick s grave, set there by her granddaughter of the 
 fourth generation.
 
 $ arsnn 
 
 Far, far away, in the dear old days, 
 
 The almost forgotten days of yore, 
 A maiden stood by the meeting ways 
 
 Of the streamlet and the river s shore. 
 
 Her heart was his who was riding down 
 
 From the Precinct where he preached God s will, 
 To bear her a bride, from Haddam town, 
 
 To his parish home on Wigwam Hill. 
 
 On stores of clothing and linen, long 
 
 She had wrought her love in thoughtful ways ; 
 The wheel and shuttle had sung their song 
 
 In her happy home through the summer days.
 
 206 The Parson s Rose 
 
 The wheel and reel and reeds of the loom 
 
 Did well their work by her swift hands sped, 
 
 While dreaming dreams of her parish home 
 With her Parson lover when she wed. 
 
 The wheel and distaff of native woods, 
 
 The loom and shuttle and home-made reel, 
 
 With stores of blankets and household goods 
 Were laid aside with the spinning wheel. 
 
 Her work completed and safely packed 
 For the journey, she could only wait 
 
 Till o er trail where hunter his game had tracked, 
 Her lover should come to her father s gate. 
 
 Oh, why will the maidens leave the homes 
 
 Where the kindred and their parents dwell, 
 
 To go with lover whene er he comes 
 
 To ring the chimes on the wedding bell ;
 
 The Parson s Rose 207 
 
 To join in the stir and stress of life, 
 
 To engage in work which is never done ; 
 
 Ask you why the world is rent with strife, 
 Or the flame ascends to meet the sun ? 
 
 A horseman riding since break of day 
 
 Over the hills and under the lea, 
 On woodland trail and the King s highway, 
 
 With blithsome song in his heart rode he. 
 
 He heard the note of the forest birds, 
 
 As they told again their tales of love, 
 
 In a language with no need of words, 
 Swinging aloft in the trees above. 
 
 They told of homes their love would create, 
 In shady boughs of the tree top s dome, 
 
 How each would labor for one true mate, 
 
 And their young would sing in days to come.
 
 208 The Parson s Rose 
 
 So the lover came on his own good steed, 
 At evening came as the sun went down, 
 
 Came in a day, for he rode with speed, 
 To marry his bride in Haddam town. 
 
 The minister came, the same good man 
 
 Whose hand was laid on her baby head ; 
 
 With the Lord s baptism her life began, 
 And again as then a prayer was said. 
 
 Few indeed were the words he spoke, 
 
 Scarcely enough, it would sometimes seem, 
 
 To bind the vine to the sturdy oak, 
 
 Or merge such lives in a larger stream. 
 
 To love, to cherish, trust, or obey, 
 
 What matter which in the stress of years 
 
 Through which the trail for their footsteps lay, 
 With toil encumbered, and care that sears.
 
 The Parson s Rose 209 
 
 A rose bush grew by her father s door, 
 
 A wide spread bush, bearing wealth of bloom ; 
 
 It had blossomed there from days of yore, 
 
 And filled the house with a sweet perfume. 
 
 From it she took a generous store 
 
 Of slips to plant by her new home s ways, 
 
 To call to her mind forevermore, 
 
 The old home life of her girlhood days. 
 
 They would bring to her with sweet perfume, 
 So like a breath from the dear old home, 
 
 A breath from home in the days of June, 
 To brighten the lonely days to come. 
 
 The sun was painting the eastern sky 
 
 With the rose red hue of breaking day, 
 
 As they rode from her home the trail to try 
 Of forest path and the King s highway.
 
 2io The Parson s Rose 
 
 She had dreamed of days that lay before, 
 
 The home she would make was in her mind, 
 
 And the rose bush blooming by her door 
 
 Would link her life with the home behind. 
 
 On her own horse she the loved slips bore 
 
 Throughout that ride on the hunter s trail, 
 
 With her own hands set them by the door 
 Of the parish house above the vale. 
 
 They grew and thrived in the mountain soil, 
 
 That damask rose from the old home dear ; 
 
 Many fold repaid her loving toil, 
 
 And the neighbors sought them far and near. 
 
 She gave to all with a generous hand, 
 
 To all who came and a rootlet chose, 
 
 Till the slips were set through all that land, 
 
 And came to be called " The Parson s Rose."
 
 The Parson s Rose 211 
 
 They bloomed and thrived for many a year, 
 Sweet perfume bringing to other homes ; 
 
 Her thoughtful act is remembered there, 
 Forgotten the Parson s sermon tomes. 
 
 The seasons came and the swift years sped, 
 And the roses bloomed around her door, 
 
 With a fragrance sweet as when she wed 
 
 In the scarce remembered days of yore. 
 
 The seasons come and the seasons go, 
 
 They will lay stern hands upon us all, 
 
 And the smallest work we thoughtless do 
 
 Will sometimes stand when our great works fall. 
 
 Those stores of linen and household goods, 
 The moths have eaten them long ago ; 
 
 The wheel and distaff of home-made woods 
 
 Have hushed their song in the homes below.
 
 212 The Parson s Rose 
 
 Parson and bride we shall see no more, 
 
 They have long been gone from Wigwam Hill, 
 
 But fragrant blossoms from slips she bore 
 
 Of " The Parson s Rose," we find them still. 
 
 Bloom on, ye roses from Haddam town, 
 
 And stir our hearts with the old home love ; 
 
 Days await us when deeds we have done 
 Will all be counted somewhere above. 
 
 A day and a deed in a world of strife, 
 
 May stir some heart with the will to try ; 
 
 May kindle a light in some dark life, 
 
 Or lift a soul to the Mansions High. 
 
 Throw the bird a crumb when the snow flakes fall, 
 Give a dog a bone on a winter s day, 
 
 Heed the cry of pain, and of want the call, 
 And wealth shall be thine to bear away.
 
 The Parson s Rose 213 
 
 A word to brighten the lives of some, 
 
 A hand extended when others fail, 
 A red rose given or kind act done, 
 
 May reach from earth to within the veil. 
 
 So may some of the deeds we have wrought, 
 When our day of life draws near its close, 
 
 Bring to our minds as fragrant a thought, 
 
 As the young bride planting the Old Home Rose. 
 
 12
 
 /3 f" 
 
 > 
 
 
 
 
 CAL/* 
 
 05 
 
 X 
 
 
 
 V,
 
 
 JffiffiSK"SSN.u 
 
 
 P* 
 
 L*- 1 3} 
 
 
 </" 
 
 ^ ^ 
 
 
 
 I 
 r % ^ * 
 
 ,3<^ 
 
 
 ^i^ f 
 
 f -",:;. ir 
 
 or 
 
 
 
 ffe. 
 
 :< 
 
 o v