profiting by all its honored maxims, we would not blindly worship it. In the proud consciousness of manhood, we should not fear the present, or its bold and startling issues, nor should we be distrustful of the future, and of the hidden mysteries it may have in store. We should not fear the rapid march of events across the stage of life. We would not build a fair superstructure on the ruins of former times, nor would we bind down the living, breathing, burning present,' to the mouldering though honored relics of the past. We would rather imitate all that was glorious in the acts and example of the men of seventy-six, the boldest men of progress the world has ever seen.' We would emblazon their great principles of conservative progress with a pencil dipped in fire. We are proud of the past, glory in the present, and look hopefully forward to the future. We do not even fear enthusiasts and ultraists, as from the collision of extremes comes the ever truthful mean. We would so mingle them that there 'should flow in harmonious procession the cadence of a history chiming on through the centuries, full of faith and praise.' We would fearlessly meet the issues we cannot avoid, while the past impels and the future summons us to prompt action, occupying as we do the great middle ground between the early age of planting and the bright harvest of the future, which stretches towards us its hands laden with ripened fruit. We would hasten to the golden fields and bright realizations of the days to come. acts are not for an age, but for all time.

66

Our

'Glorious, thrice glorious is the day we celebrate! It is the two hundredth anniversary of the exploration of this valley, the one hundred and eighty-ninth of the gathering of the First Church, and the eighty-third of our national independence. On this glad day of liberty, what sacred emotions arise in the patriotic breast! How shall we rightly honor a day consecrated by the deeds of the noble men of all the past-not more the patriots who fought in the gloomy days of the revolution, than those who struggled amid the dangers of defenceless and remote forests. It has taken all the labors of our fathers, from the first hardy pioneer, to make the glorious present. We enjoy the fruits of all the toil and blood of our fathers for two hundred years. It is meet, then, that we greet with enthusiastic joy the smiling morn of the anniversary of that last, most daring and sublime of all the acts of our forefathers, the Declaration of Independence. It is well that we hail its annual return with the ringing of bells upon ten

thousand hills; by the booming of innumerable cannon and smaller arms; by rockets, fire-works and illuminations; by solemn processions and grateful prayers to God; by stirring orations and patriotic songs! May the hymns of liberty never die out from our breezy mountains, nor the lofty sentiment of patriotism from our happy valleys! Let the glad echoes be repeated from the Eastern to the Western Ocean, and from the icy regions of the North to the sunny climes of the ever-blooming South!

"What shall be the developmeuts and improvements in our highly favored territory, a hundred years hence? The answer to this question must depend mainly upon ourselves. Of all this vast concourse, not one will be here to celebrate the next centennial. Long ere another centennial sun shall rise over this lovely valley, we shall have experienced the last of earth,' and passed to join the innumerable company of the dead! 'The dead of old Woodbury! Lost, yet found forever-absent, yet present now and always-dead, but living in that glorious life, which, commencing on the confines of time, spreads onward and ever onward through the endless ages of eternity.' Then let us, by the nobleness of our conduct, and the purity of our lives, eschewing all low delights and jarring discords, strive to add our mite to the great and good history of our sainted fathers, who have 'ascended into glory.' Then will our children, as they shall, with wet lids, assemble here, a hundred years hence, to commemorate our history, be enabled to say of us, 'they wrought well, and have received the reward of their labors,' Then shall our fame, as well as that of those glorious men who have already entered into their rest, be perennial with our noble language, in which it is recorded, now spread more widely than any that has ever given expression to human thought.""

At the close of the address, after music from the Band, the vast multitude repaired to the tents, provided with an abundance of eatables by the good ladies of the several towns, where they were hospitably entertained. In a brief space, the people were again summoned to the stand, and the exercises were opened by music from the Band, followed by the well-known song, "The Pilgrim Fathers," sung with fine effect by Gilbert Somers Minor, an aged man of silvery locks and long white beard. Then followed a Historical Poem by Rev. William Thompson Bacon, of Woodbury.

Mr. Bacon is a native of Woodbury, and the chief poet of all the ancient territory. He has written much and well, but no effort of his pen ever did him more credit than his poem on this occasion. We will quote a passage or two, applicable to this history, which may serve as a sample of the whole. Describing the advent of our fathers in this valley, to found a new town, he

says:

"It is a thought of beauty and of fear,

To look upon those lonely wanderers here,-
The first white men that ever stood upon
This ancient soil, or look'd upon the sun,-
And try an instant to call up the power,
That lay upon their souls in that still hour!
Was it not solemn, as they paused to view
The embracing hills, or look'd upon the blue
Broad heaven, that, like a canopy, came down,
And rested on the circling mountains' crown,
They all alone, alone, amid the scene,―
A solemn, silent, wilderness of green?
O, had some power, one little moment then,
Flashed through the minds of these heroic men,
The mighty future, from the distance caught,
With all its splendid wealth of soul and thought,
It's strength and beauty, innocence and truth,
And reverend age, and loving dreams of youth,
Each age successive gathering up the past,
Till the bright present on their souls was cast,—
Would there been wanting to that spot and time,
One single element of the grand sublime?—
And would they not have trembled, in each sense,
At God's unfolding, mighty Providence ?

"These brave men scoured the region all around,
Sought every spot, and all its promise found,-
The gentle valley and the rounded hill,
The winding stream and solitary rill;
Each opening vista through the forest glade,
And every charm by freak of Nature made,—
From the cool grotto, where the brooklets run,
To splinter'd peak, tall black'ning in the sun;-
At last, discovering what they came for, pleas'd
With what they'd purchas'd, not, like robbers, seized,
Back to old Stratford's strand they turn once more,
And tell the wondrons story o'er and o'er.

"Rell back the tide of time! and let us stand Two hundred years ago, with that brave band,

Who, from the hill, that, westering, skirts this scene,
Looked down upon its rolling forests green,
And, gazing, as they might, with strange surprise,
Let the whole mighty landscape fill their eyes!

"Roll back the tide! and let us, as we may, Group, in our thought, the picture of that day,Of that brave band along the forests led,

Now climbing steeps, now whore the waters spread,—
Startled, how oft, to catch that sound of fear,
The bark of cat, or yell of mountaineer,—
Till where yon mountain rising to the blue,
Gave all this glorious landscape to their view!

"Far to the north, hills over hills survey,
Till their blue tops are mingled with the day;
Far to the south the widening vale extends,
Whose wealth of splendor every beauty lends;
Far to the west, in wide succession spread,
Valley and hill, and jutting mountain head;
While right before them, 'neath the morning sky,
Nature's wide wonders all, were in their eye!

"I wonder much, if those broad-breasted men,
In that rough age-(it will not come again-
Should not perhaps)-I wonder if they view'd
As we, this mighty stretch of wave and wood!
The Spring's first bird was whistling in the sky,
The fragrant birch its tassels flaunted nigh;
Through the moist mould, in beauty ever young,
Tall ranks of flowers on every bank were flung;
Far by the streams, as here and there they view'd,
The classic willow, by the brook-side stood,
Trembling all over in the morning's beam,
Or playing with its shadow on the stream;
The young winds bore their fragrance all about,
Mingled with hum of bee and torrent's shout,
And the wide air with all those sounds was filed,
That fancy ever dream'd, or heart has thrill'd ;-
I wonder how those men, of stalwart mien,
In that sweet morn looked forth upon the scene ¡

"One mighty purpose all that age had fired,
One mighty aim each swelling soul inspired;
One truth, fast lock'd, in every soul was kept,
That conscience guarded, and that never slept ;-
Man came from God, in his own image made,
And by that charter certain rights conveyed;-
Those rights long trampled by an hireling throne,

Had sent them forth, to ways and wilds unknown;
Here on bleak shores, soft breezes seldom press'd,
Here mid rude scenes, gay fancy seldom dress'd,
Alone, mid death, in want of all but worth,
They battled for the noblest prize on earth,—
Man in his native dignity to stand,

Himself a prince and ruler of the land!

"Small time had they then for the mere ideal,
Their love was truth, their present life all real;
They walked the world, faith's vision never dim,
Saw not God's works, they only gazed on Him!

"Tell me, ye sons of that imperial race,
Imperial only, as their truth ye trace;—
Those brave men, scorning courts, and kingly crew,
And only daring less than angels do;—
Tell me, if prince or nobleman there be,
Can boast a prouder ancestry than we!"

At the close of the poem, which occupied an hour and a half in the delivery, the assemblage united in singing an original congratulatory, and reminiscient ode, furnished by the writer of this. Then followed the benediction, by Rev. Thomas L. Shipman, of Jewett City, Conn., formerly Pastor of the Congregational Chnrch in Southbury. The invited guests then scattered among the hospitable homes of our town, and never was their hospitality taxed to so great an extent before or since. Happy greetings of friends, and long deferred reunions were the order of the hour that will never be forgotten while life remains.

On the morning of the second day, at eight o'clock, about one thousand persons convened in that sacred dell in the thick woods, on the east side of the Orenaug Rocks, half a mile from the village, which was consecrated by the prayers and praises of the early fathers, and by them called Bethel Rock. This meeting was held for the special purpose of commemorating this most interesting fact in the history of our revered ancestors, and the occasion was one long to be remembered by every devout heart.

Rev. Robert G. Williams, pastor of the old Pioneer Church, opened the meeting by giving out one verse of the hymn commencing

"Be Thou, O God, exalted high,"

which, being sung with great solemnity, in the ever welcome air