Lake County Ohio GenWeb
1796 Western Reserve Centennial Souvenir 1896
H. U. Johnson
Inscription Page 5
Dedication Page 7
Sentiment Page 10
Western Reserve Centennial Page 11
Greeting Page 32
Pioneer Mothers Page 38
Sixty Years a Bride Page 45
My First Suit of Broadcloth Page 49
The Western Reserve Page 51
Counties and Towns Page 58
Prominent Officials Page 64
Some First Events Page 66
Reminiscences and Anecdotes Page 73
[Start of Page 5]
The penchant still I hold
Of falling into rhyming;
Again I pray you, do not scold,
For words will come a-chiming,
And I would let our children know
Something about their fathers;
Would them of their triumphs show,
Their trials, tramps and bothers.
Those children are to manhood grown,
Grandparents of us making,
So ‘twon’t be long, as life has shown;
Till we shall be a-shaking;
Aye and soon we’ll have a golden wed,
I’ll quit my diatribing,
And show I have a “level head”
By you in prose inscribing.
YOUR “BEST FELLOW.”
[Start of Page 7]
Dear Reader’s Young ----
“In day lang syne,”
As in the book tis written,
There was a man, as I opine,
By “western fever” smitten,
And so he bade his friends adieu;
With wife and nephew, chattel,
He journied a new land to view;
When there he made things rattle,
For soon his flocks, and herds, and kine,
“A thousand hills did cover,”
And tho’ he worshiped at God’s shrine,
Wealth did around him hover.
That land! It was a goodly land,
It “flowed with milk and honey:”
But all his children bear one brand,
‘Tis that of “making money.”
Since that first emigrant of earth,
“Go west” has been the struggle;
It has high purpose given birth
And many a scheming juggle;
From it have grandest efforts sprung,
Of it been born great nations;
[Start of Page 8]
Of it have poets often sung
And marked its brightest stations;
To it the Saxons owe their fame,
The Angles, nervy mettle;
The witty Celts it set aflame,
The Emerald Isle to settle;
It gave Columbus to the world,
The Pilgrim it incited;
It caused the “starry flag” unfurled,
Had better ways invited
Long ere The Tribune founded was,
Or wrote his maxim, Greeley,
Which took the people all a-pause
As quite a new thing really;
And lo ! earth’s teeming millions now,
From pole to the equator,
Are studying to know just how
They’ll find a West that’s greater.
‘Twill be in vain, for years ago
There came with scanty larder
A band of emigrants, you know,
Into one Conneaut Harbor.
They spread themselves along the lake,
Back to Mahoning Valley,
And when they once had stuck their stake
The world did to them rally;
And so, as on Mt. Pisgah’s top,
Around them oaks of Morah,
They did in “Land of Promise” stop, --
There lifted up “Old Glory.”
[Start of Page 9]
Their sons and daughters forth have gone
To earth’s remotest border,
And everywhere are looked upon
As being just in order;
Their bearing and their every word
Reveal their parent’s standing,
And only good of them is heard
Wherever they are landing.
Now “going west” is North or South,
To countries Oriental,
And he who openeth his mouth
Must do it sentimental;
And you, their children, must preserve
For aye your parent’s standing
And Ever honor the Reserve –
This is the last commanding.
And now I dedicate to you
This book their deeds reviewing.
And ask that you the base eschew,
Like them, ne’er go a-Jewing.
H. U. Johnson.
[Start of Page 10]
Would you encomium extend
To any people, nation,
Which shall the highest worth protend
In every broad relation,
Be these the words that mark your choice,
For they will live supernal:
“In policy do not rejoice;
Hold principle eternal.”
This Sentiment, with pride, we claim
Our fathers did observe,
And, hence, the ever-growing fame
Of our CENTENNIAL RESERVE.
May 20, 1896
[Start of Page 11]
Come, all ye sturdy, earnest sons of toil
Who shove the plane or cultivate the soil,
Who brave the furnace flame or draw the steel,
Who wield the sledge or ply arts mercantile,
Who plead the law or Esculapian ride,
Who mould or fashion in the arts with pride,
Who on old Erie set the spreading sail,
Or guide the iron steed along the rail,
Who “how to shoot” the “young ideas teach,”
Or from the pulpit a pure Gospel preach;
Come, ye who make our homes with earnest care
And do life’s heavy burdens with us share,
Who guide in virtue’s path fair childhood’s feet,
Or by the languid couch keep vigils sweet,
Come, listen to my talk while I relate
The deeds of those we well may imitate
In exercise of mind, of soul, of nerve,
Men who wrought out this grand Western Reserve.
Yes, wrought it from the somber realm of game,
Where lingers still full many an Indian name
In river, sunny lake or reclaimed fen,
Recalling oft a wily race of men,
[Start of Page 12]
Which we have learned, but learned, alas! Too late,
Were well deserving of a better fate.
In Conneaut behold their “many fish,”
The same in Ashtabula: and I wish
To say Geauga as “raccoon” did sport,
Whilst “crooked” ran Cuyahoga to the port;
Mahoning swept along a sunny “lick,”
And “biting,” ”sharp” was in Kinnikanik;
Sandusky, “water with water” rolls;
With “open mouth” the Tuscarawas shoals;
Whilst bright Lake Erie ever purrs “a cat,”
The Pymatuning flows “slow,” “sluggish,” “flat;”
The Chippewa, with “widespread” as a dower,
Beheld the Massasauga “robbed of power.”
Here danced and hunted through the ages long,
Making night merry with their simple song,
The Erie, Huron, Seneca, with joy,
Till came with whoop the war-like Iroquois;
The peaceful tribes they quickly swept away,
Nor long could these before the pale face stay.
We call their names, they list not to the sound,
But game pursue in “spirit hunting ground,”
And we with thoughts a-tune, right glad return
To speak of those towards whom our fond hearts yearn.
Our natal day one hundred years ago,
First saw those men, their spirits all aglow,
Not as a great and overawing throng.
But numbering only half a hundred strong
[Start of Page 13]
With two fair women-one a babe in arms,
As if to add to nature’s summer charms,
Moor their frail bark in an inviting cove,
Their Independence spend in wild-wood grove
Where now a busy city well invites
To the enjoyment of life’s dearest rights.
As truest of America’s brave sons,
They fire salute in sixteen booming guns;
The President, their own loved State, they toast,
And other things of which they well might boast,
Each mingling with his “something strong to take,”
In pledging these, pure water from the lake.
They there Fort Independence reared,
And then amid the solitude they cheered;
A fitting birth for heritage so grand,
Soon to rank high in this most favored land.
Those sons of old Connecticut who came,
Most worthy all to be preserved in name,
Were Cleveland, leader, “Forest City” famed,
And Stow, who right to dish provisions claimed;
Then Porter, Warren, Spafford, Holly, Pease,
With Stoddard, took the bearings and degrees;
T. Shepard, doctor, bled them o’er and o’er,
Whilst Tinker, boatman, labored for the shore;
Then McIntyre, and Proudfoot, Forbes and Gray,
With Hungerford, Atwater, Benton lay
Next Sawtel, Barber and E. Gunn and wife;
And Mason, Coffin, Davenport are rife
[Start of Page 14]
With Agnew, Benham and two Ayers and Hall;
Hall, Goodin, Harris, Wilcox, Dunham call
Till Shepard, Beard and Bryant we behold;
Then Munson, Landon, Hamilton are told,
As Rice, Lock, Halket, Stiles and wife are shown
Alongside Parker, Morley, Barnes and Doan;
With Shirley, Burbank, then the list is run,
Excepting one sweet babe – a little Gunn.
Those sturdy men with compass, ax and chain
Proceeded to stake off the fair domain,
Later o’er which the name of TRUMBULL fell,
Name ever honored, East and West as well.
Then soon there came from off New England hills,
From out her vales, those men of iron wills,
Those women with a patriotic zeal
That argued much for a great nation’s weal;
Brave children they, born ‘mid the surging flood
That had baptized their parentage in blood.
They came not as in palace cars to-day,
But in ox-carts they took their winding way;
Through forest deep in wagons covered o’er,
Or in rough barge along Lake Erie’s shore.
On horseback oft a mother, child in arms,
Wound her lone way ‘mid vales and mountain charms;
And westward many a brave husband bound
Paid freightage on his young wife by the pound;
Whilst he along with knapsack e’er did stalk,
‘Twas stipulated she up hill should walk
[Start of Page 15]
All this was after parting prayers were said,
For “going west” was numbering with the dead.
Thus crept for weeks those worthy pioneers,
Whose deeds make redolent the flight of years.
They came to toils, to deprivations meet,
Their parent’s deeds ‘twas theirs to well repeat.
At Conneaut, Cleveland, Mentor on the lake,
And Youngstown on Mahoning, first did make
Those study men their mark, soon seen to bear
Rich fruitage of their earnest, manly care
In homes, in roads, in school and church as well,
But of whose trials we can little tell.
Behold amid the forest circling smoke,
Then listen to the woodman’s vig’rous stroke;
The sun peeps in to kiss the virgin soil,
Then comes the harvest as reward of toil.
Next we espy the “stump” to “mortar” burned,
In which, with “pestle,” “winnowed” grain is churned,
And deftly from it, wives the rude flour take
Which soon from embers comes a well-baked cake.
O luscious meal, with venison well bestrewn,
And steaming tea from sassafras new hewn;
For every man a hunter must become,
And forest furnished better drink than rum.
But when at length a millwright came to stay,
It was to settlers most auspicious day,
For then might husband with his grain a-back
Go traveling weary miles by ax-blazed track,
[Start of Page 16]
And after waiting long, return with power
His wife to please in “shorts” and “bolted flour,”
But later on, a horse’s back astride,
The growing boy on “grist” was made to ride –
‘Twas years before the “roller process” came
And stripped the “burr stone” of its honest fame.
The early “camp” gave place to better home,
But not of marble or with modern dome.
Twas built of logs with “saddle” fitting “back;”
A broad stone “hat,” a chimney built a-stack;
A “clapboard” roof by “weightpoles” loaded down,
With “knees” between and comb well set a-crown.
The walls were “chinked and daubed” to clear of holes;
Within were bedsteads made of forest poles,
The cord well tightened with the rude “bed wench,”
For too aesthetic was name of “wrench.”
The trundle bed, beneath, came very soon,
With half a dozen children “lying spoon;”
In rude loft some, two at the parents’ feet,
With babe between made family complete.
To light, a log was cleft; for window pane
Was paper tacked, with bear’s grease all a-stain;
On shelf were “pewter platters,” dishes wood,
With “blue edge” later, be it understood.
In those old homes were found these comforts rare:
The deer skin trunk, the old splint bottomed chair;
[Start of Page 17]
And dainty keepsakes from the mothers East,
On which their daughters West their eyes might feast.
The open fireplace with its “stone back-wall,”
“Crane,” “trammel pole,” “hooks,” “kittles” large and small,
“Handirons” quaint, and “roaring hick’ry fire,”
Whose genial light did family inspire.
There mother knit and father axhelves made,
The children read and merry “blindfold” played;
The house cat purred and wound their feet around,
And in his dreams, the dog seemed hunting bound.
With one lone room for kitchen, parlor, bed,
“How did they e’er retire?” it may be said,
“Especially when company they had
made up of buxom lass and merry lad!”
‘Twas a fine art; some going out around,
On coming back, those left, in bed were found
With heads all covered up in snowy sheet;
And then did someone else the act repeat,
‘Til last the father covered up the fire,
And did himself unto his couch retire.
We travel now along our iron roads
In palace cars, on motor overloads,
Nor dream of oft “blazed trees” that told the way
To wanderers through the forests of that day;
But “bridle paths” gave way to “corduroy,”
Whose joltings wakened ne’er a note of joy,
[Start of Page 18]
‘Til “State” and “County” roads were well surveyed,
And here and there a “turn-pike” even, laid,
O’er which were brought from Pittsburgh, far away,
Those comforts that began to mark the day
“Store keepers” came the villages among,
From “joists” above, their pails and kettles hung,
Placed calicoes and cambrics on their shelves—
Bade women come and better clothe themselves.
With notions founded on New England plan,
We need not wonder most to learning ran,
And soon it was from young Sandusky town
To distant Poland, thirsting for renown,
A constant call for schools went up amain,
Tho’ small the means with which them to sustain;
But where there was a will there was a way,
And those old heroes knew no “lack-a-day.”
They met in cabin home, in leafy grove,
And with the problem manfully they strove.
The structures reared were of the rudest kind,
But in them blossomed many a youthful mind.
Tho’ books were scarce, the birch was ever there
And with its music filled the school day air,
As taken from its pegs and deftly swung
Upon the back, it mouths wide open flung.
Examinations orally were heard;
Test:--“rule of three,” reading and spelling bird.
If safely passed was this severe ordeal,
Certificate to teach was certain weal.
[Start of Page 19]
Of sal’ries now despairingly we speak;
Good wages then were shillings five a week,
And with them certain chance of “boarding ‘round,”
And pleasures ever with it to be found.
You smile and ask, “what progress there was made?”
Go ask a Ranney, Spaulding, Hutchins, Slade,
A Spencer, Leggett, Burrows, Armstrong, Day,
Or Sutliff, Ford, Payne, Pease, Monroe, Northway;
Go ask the men who’ve helped to move the world.
They answer: “There were intellects unfurled.”
Tho’ prate we much of modern school reform,
Some methods old, will long out-ride the storm;
But chopping wood, drawn “sled-length” to the door,
Rejoice we, marks curriculum no more.
If learning is unto religion twin,
Then none too soon did those old schools begin,
For early came one Badger, bearing high
The simple cross—the banner of the sky;
And following soon, came others in his wake
For Calvary at once Reserve to take,
And strange phenomena were soon at work,
For people fell with features, limbs a-jerk.
But pass we these; a sense of moral truth
Had been an heirloom from the people’s youth,
And glad they turned to place of song and prayer,
And sought religious consolations there.
[Start of Page 20]
In simple garb with shoes held well in hand,
Each Sabbath found them at some Gospel stand,
Ere reaching which, they sought secluded place
And clothed their feet in well-pegged cowhide grace:
Twas simple faith, in gospel sandals shod,
That thus they plodded to the house of God.
They sang their hymns while yet no choir was near;
Their shouts went up in hallelujahs clear
From cabin, barn or grove, from temples quaint,
And Heaven rejoiced in many a new-born saint;
Homes were made happy and a purer tone
Was index of approaches near the Throne;
And in those fervid efforts of the past,
Much of success in our church work was cast.
Those were the days of living faith in God,
Full emphasized by the well-seasoned rod,
For in the home the children learned respect;
If wayward deemed, soon were they switched correct.
In schools, tho’ rude, were manners strictly taught,
With “Yes, Sir,” “No, Ma’am,” “bows,” and “court’sies” fraught.
We smile apace, and maybe jeer, but then
Our modern plans produce no truer men.
Those olden times were days of earnest knocks
With “varmints:” bears, wild cats and wily fox.
Most thrilling tales first pioneers recount
Of mighty struggles with the catamount;
[Start of Page 21]
Of long nights spent amid the branches “treed,”
Whilst howling wolves looked up with hungry greed.
Brutes, these, with gleaming eyes, were wont at night
To come and set the people all afright;
To prey on bleating flock, on piggies’ sty,
Hence these were built unto the cabin nigh,
And well the faithful watch-dog’s ready ear
Caught every sound; his howl told danger near;
Then fire brand hurled amid the hungry pack,
With drooping tails, would send them sneaking back.
When settlements more numerous had grown,
To forest game was a new tactics shown.
With dogs and guns from many miles away,
Men came to hold a hunters’ gala day:
In well-formed line a forest they surround;
With whoop and yelp its arches soon resound,
As on they press at central point to meet;
By breaking through, alone, could game retreat.
Fell then the wolf, the bear, the antlered deer,
When, rising high o’er all, went cheer on cheer
As counting horn, and scalp, and swinging tail,
Revealed the fact of which side did prevail—
As to some home agreed they took their way
To feast, to dance to some weird minstrel’s lay.
Thus passed wild game away till hunters wail;
Cause:--Law protects the squirrel and the quail.
[Start of Page 22]
With nerves a-strung, a telegram we wait,
On which is hanging some momentous fate,
Nor heed those times when men knew not, you know,
From whence it is lightnings come and go—
Our Edison had not dame nature probed,
Nor as the “wizard” been as yet enrobed.
Those were the days when was a quarter due
On every letter which the mail went through,
For Uncle Sam was an indulgent man,
And ran his mails upon a credit plan;
A quarter e’er was charged against each name,
Prepaying had not then become his game.
From friends “back East,” all letters first were brought
By him who in the West a new home sought,
And weeks oft passed, dear, longing hearts a-burn,
With missive written, waiting his return;
For quarters were deplorably few,
Of which than pioneers none better knew.
When first mail service sought the wild Reserve,
‘Twas borne on shoulder of some man of nerve
In weekly round from Lake to Valley town,
Or in canoe some river’s course adown;
Then oftener came some increasing “bag,”
With “post boy” perched upon an ambling nag:
Next came the mail coach with its pondrous “boot,”
The driver perched aloft, his horn a-toot,
[Start of Page 23]
Who once a day set villagers a-gaze
Along their streets with his “Jehu” displays.
‘Twas when that postage dropped unto a dime,
And mails came in on the exactest time.
But Jehu’s now would be too slow a coach,
Indeed, the lightening’s lag we often times reproach,
Two penny postage savagely assail,
And grumble at the tardy “Great White mail;”
Our children e’en are loading Uncle Sam,
The missives theirs his “ouches” set a-jamb.
“All men created equal are, “ tis said,
Effulgent light which richly here was shed,
And early men began that right to claim,
So unto others would accord the same.
They queried not of color, race or clime:
Theirs was a trust in right, earnest, sublime.
Soon East and West, from North to South they knew,
Tho’ sparse the homes, the men in numbers few,
That the Reserve was panoplied for fright
On every line of questioned human right.
Men read, men thought, men questioned o’er and o’er,
Each topic scanned, nor turned it from the door,
Until all came right quickly to observe
Of some new thought, “That hails from the Reserve.”
Her men rose up in Congress in their might,
And there engaged in many a Titan fight:
[Start of Page 24]
One overborne and put upon the rack,
Was homeward sent—more hurriedly sent back,
And all the land was made at once to feel
That the Reserve bows not to bigot zeal.
To the Reserve preeminently came
From baying hound, as runs the panting game,
Poor Afric’s sons from slavery’s galling chain,
With purpose laid their freedom to obtain
In the far North, tho’ cold its winds might blow,
Rather than delve ‘mid cotton fields of snow,
For well they knew if only this they found,
A trip was sure, on railroad underground,
From Dixie’s woes to Canada’s near shore
Where they should dread the stinging lash no more.
The “white pine” waves, the “North star” shines above,
Now useless both as harbingers a-dove;
And “agents,” “passengers,” “conductors” are
Fast sweeping through the gates that stand ajar;
But Milan back, Sandusky on the bay,
With Fitchville, Brownhelm, Wellington, the gay,
Then Oberlin, with well-earned college fame,
And Lodi, Cleveland, with “Blue Jug” acclaim,
Ravenna, Chardon, Painesville, Fairport old,
Bright Warren, Bloomfield, Austinburg, the bold,
And Youngstown, Hubbard, Hartford, Vernon, too,
Wayne, Jefferson, and Ashtabula true,
With many another town along the shore,
As “stations” will the future long encore.
[Start of Page 25]
Synonym heroic centuries has been
Thermopylae; of Waterloo the din
Has heralded Napoleonic fall.
No deeds like these to annals ours recall;
Leonidas nor Wellingtons we claim,
Yet have we men, deeds, not unknown to fame.
“We’ve met the enemy and they are ours,”
Has in it much of stimulating powers,
And full recalls that most auspicious day
When Perry moored his prize in Put-in-Bay.
So whipped their fleet, from British did preserve
The Pioneers along the whole Reserve.
Tho’ no famed battlefields we boast,
For freedom well we’ve fought, a conquering host
On rostrum, in the pulpit, with the pen,
At ballot box, invincible; and then,
With arms a-shoulder, did our brave boys march
To test, with thousands more, the rebel starch
At Winchester, Antietam and Bull Run,
At Corinth, Shiloh—battles lost and won;
At Vicksburg’s fall, at Gettysburg, aglee
Our braves, then off with Sherman to the sea.
On march, in camp, on many a fleet aboard,
Their marks were made, and well can we afford
The meed of praise, nor will them e’er forget,
Tho’ humble some, and some with stars beset.
To them, on village green, in resting place revered,
In city park, the marble shaft is reared;
[Start of Page 26]
And in the annals of those stirring days,
In stately prose and in poetic lays
Their names are well embalmed for years to come;
Aye, in their praise our lips shall ne’er be dumb
Whilst Johnson’s Isle rests in Sandusky Bay,
Where they to sleep did erring brothers lay.
Nor these alone: wives, mothers, daughters fair
Shall in these blood-bought honors hold a share.
Like women in the days of Bunker Hill
And Valley Forge, so would not ours be still.
In country homes, in village, city, there
They met, and deftly did their stores prepare
Of bandage, lint, of comforts for the sick;
And when the clouds still darker grew and thick,
In Forest City, loyal to the core,
Wide open flew their own hospital door;
There many a maimed, sick, patriotic boy,
Was nursed to health in sweet angelic joy;
Or when the spirit from its home had sped,
His eyes were closed, tears sympathetic shed
By those who no Helenic caprice knew,
But unto kindred, country, flag, were true.
Our soil, tho’ not the richest, ranks as fair,
We’ve water pure, and every kind of air;
Sometimes ‘tis pinching, even piercing cold,
But realms are scarce where people grow so old;
Tho’ we no scenery boast sublimely grand,
Still many a gem is found on every hand;
[Start of Page 27]
No meager view is Erie’s glittering sheen,
Fair “Little Mountain’s” groves, and vales between;
“The Ledges,” Nelson’s pride, Chagrin’s rock walls,
Old Brady’s Lake, unique Cuyahoga Falls,
Sweet Put-in-Bay and Isles that near her lie,
And over all stars bright as in the sky,
Are ours, and people come afar to spend
Their summers here, amid our charms to wend;
Bathe at Vermillion, and at Lakeside speak,
Row from our “parks,” our grove seclusion seek;
Discuss things solid, sometimes even grave,
Again, like mermaids, cut the rippling wave,
Whilst snowy tents show Erie all a-lined,
As shall her cities when in one combined.
We lie, like Palestine, the lands between;
All eyes turn to behold old Erie’s sheen,
As haste the myriads her shore along,
Not like the old-time camel burd’ning throng,
Without one wish the Great Sea to admire,
Tho’ dotted o’er with fleets of Sidon, Tyre,
All ivory ladened or with Ophir’s gold,
The price of men and maidens bought and sold,
But borne on sweeping train from East to West
Eastward from West again, all, all in quest
Of nature’s grandeurs, mines of hidden wealth,
Of knowledge quaint, of happiness and health.
They see our fleets of ore, of diamonds black,
Note well the forward move, no step a-back.
[Start of Page 28]
As David’s was, so are our treas’ries filled;
Like his, our men in every art are skilled.
This truth sublime we may not e’en discard,
So sweetly sung by Israel’s psalmist bard,
As swept his fingers o’er the lyre in hand,
“God hath not dealt so with another land.”
In ledgers old some curious things appear,
Reversing much that we think cheap or dear:
‘Twas shillings six for calico, you see;
A dollar only bought an average tea;
Strong men went toiling through the live-long day,
For which a wheaten bushel was the pay,
And this was on the market shillings three,
No heavy wages any crank can see.
Of ten hour system then there was no thought;
From early dawn till setting sun they wrought.
Whiskey! A shilling was the standing price,
And long the time before it took a rise;
A woman washed for but two cents an hour,
‘Twas just the same if she did scrub and scour.
Five cents for butter, three for dozen eggs,
A “bit” for shoats when taken on the legs.
A marriage license was the same as now,
Paid for in coon skins—well, most anyhow:
To learn the marriage fee, we have little means,
Yet know the parson often took his pay in beans.
We little ken the “crooks and turns” they made,
The curious “boots” in getting up a trade.
[Start of Page 29]
But this we know, from all the tales that come,
Without complaint they wrought to get a “hum;”
Ne’er “broke their nose,” or anything the like,
To spite their face, or “went out on a strike.”
One hundred years! The hut, palatial home;
The humble fane, the heavenward pointing dome;
The corncrib into early schoolroom wrought,
In noble structures now our children taught;
The forest dark, wild hunters, golden grain;
Desires few, ambition’s hight attain!
Roads corduroy, then railroad after pike,
The cart, the palace car, the whizzing bike;
The sickle keen, the “Buckeye” sweeping “reels,”
The old hand rake, the “spring tooth” run on wheels
The ancient flail, the “separator” grand,
The “shredder” against husking corn by hand;
The wooden mould board and the wheel plow change,
The old tin oven and the “Garland” range;
The plain “Surtout,” the “waist coat” not eschewed,
The “cutaway” and fashions a la dude;
The “Tuscan bonnet” and the high plumed hat,
The five yard dress and sleeves with more than that;
The oaken tan, the logwood’s deeper hue,
Rich “Diamond dyes” and colors ever new;
The old lard lamp, the mother’s tallow dip,
The jaunty gas jet and the lightning’s zip;
[Start of Page 30]
Most frugal fare, viands from every land,
Pure, simple tastes and fashions that expand;
A credit reign, era of little trust;
A people’s way, “bosses” upon them thrust;
“The laying by in store” for church’s use,
The “night cap social” and such like excuse,
Marking the changes in the minds of all
As touching doctrines once laid down by Paul;
To labor trained, for speculation drilled;
Pure, simple tastes, with airy castles filled;
The doctor’s lance, great doses calomel,
Paine’s Celery Compound, Christian Science—well
A thousand things we every day behold
That draw the line between the new and old.
We choose the now nor deprecate the then
With all its grand old-fashioned women, men.
Then let us gladly all our tongues attune,
And with the hopes of other years commune.
In simple earnest zeal, hearts all aglow,
Come sing, “Praise God from whom all blessings flow,”
And as we scan this heritage of ours,
Reap the rich blessings it upon us showers,
And as a future brighter still appears,
Send heavenward our three times three of cheers;
Our vows of loyalty again renew,
As triumphs past rise in a grand review—
The triumphs of a hundred fleeting years,
Most nobly won by parent Pioneers
[Start of Page 31]
And may our children’s children live to see
The closing a second century,
Which from the highest honor knew no swerve;
‘Such be thy crown for aye, WESTERN RESERVE.
[End of Page 31]
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Last updated 06 Dec 2003
©2003 by Cynthia Turk