THE BLACK SNAKE

      A notorious smuggling boat, in the time of the embargo of 1808, was called "The Black Snake." Its seizure, during this year, resulted in the murder of Elias DRAKE, Jonathan ORMSBY and Asa MARSH, and the execution, by hanging, of Cyrus B. DEAN -- the particulars of which are given in this paper.

      The embargo which was laid upon the foreign trade of the United States by act of Congress, passed Dec. 22, 1807, was productive of wide-spread ruin and distress. This measure was deemed indispensable by the President, Mr. Jefferson, as a just retaliation for the course pursued by Great Britain, in the seizure of our vessels, the plunder of our commerce, and the impressment of our seamen. This total annihilation of commerce, threatening bankruptcy and ruin to so many of the merchants, and checking at once the flow of produce from the interior to the seaboard, bore with peculiar hardship upon the people, and tried their patriotism to the utmost.

      Its effect was to greatly increase the price of foreign commodities, and render our own nearly valueless. There being no outlet to the latter, they accumulated in the market, and often could not be sold for a sum sufficient to pay for the cost of transportation. Foreign goods, particularly the staples which the people had come to consider as among the necessaries of life, being shut out entirely, prices soon rose to such a height that those in moderate circumstances found themselves obliged to dispense with them altogether. As might be expected, there arose a tempestuous opposition to the embargo in all parts of the country. A portion of the people, at least, seemed to overlook and palliate the gross insults of England, which caused the enactment of the law. They seemed to forget the loss of one thousand merchant ships, and the impressment of six thousand of our seamen. Under the tremendous pressure with which the embargo bore upon the people, the opposition to president Jefferson's policy became in New England exceedingly bold and fierce. The federal newspapers teemed with articles most inflammatory in their character, and Mr. Jefferson and his cabinet were denounced in acrimonious editorials, and lampooned in doggerel verse. A specimen of the latter, to the tune of Yankee Doodle, commenced as follows :

      Further on we are let into the cause of the difficulty:

      The verses close with some very flippant advice to president Jefferson:

      Among the interests of the country which were called to their full share of suffering was that of the manufacture of ashes. This was, indeed, a humble and limited branch of industry, but one of great importance to the newly settled timber-region of northern Vermont. Many of the towns might fairly be said to be receiving only their first population. The settlers, like the pioneers of all new countries, brought but little with them. Their own strong arms were their main reliance. As soon as a cabin had been erected to shelter their families, they commenced the clearing away of the forest, and the opening up of the fields from which to obtain a subsistence. The tall and stately trees fell before the repeated strokes of the axe-they were cut into convenient lengths, rolled into heaps, and consumed to ashes. These were carefully saved, conveyed to the nearest store, and exchanged for provisions and necessary articles. Many settlers, in remote places, far into the wilderness, found it expedient to work their ashes into black salts -- thus lightening the labor of transportation. In this form they were conveyed distances of from 10 to 20 miles, to a market. In some instances, where settlers were too poor to own a team, they have been known to take a bag of salts upon their back to the nearest stare. It was fortunate for these hardy pioneers, that potashes, during all this time, brought a remunerating price in the not remote market of Montreal. While awaiting the growth of their first crops, serious inconvenience, and probably much actual suffering would have ensued, but for this, The little stores in the country towns each had its ashery, and all were eager to purchase, upon the sales of their pot and pearl ashes in Montreal, they depended almost entirely for the means of remittance to their creditors in the American cities. So important was this traffic, that in most of the interior towns of Vermont, during the greater portion of the year, not a dollar in money could be raised, except from the sale of ashes. Without this, goods or provisions could not have been imported -- taxes could not have been collected, and the country must have been greatly impeded in its advance and prosperity. The embargo, therefore, inflicted upon this interest a destructive blow. The merchants had large stocks of ashes on hand, and more or less amount due from the settlers which was payable in that commodity. With rain staring them in the face, the temptation to run their ashes across the line to Montreal was too great for the patriotism of the most of them, and smuggling was commenced on an extensive scale. To counteract and repress this, a numerous force of revenue officials was posted along the frontier, to which were shortly added guards at different points, from the militia. The extent to which party spirit was at that time carried greatly favored the smuggler. The federalists ware his friends. In their utter abhorrence of president Jefferson's administration of the embargo, the most of them were ready to notify the smuggler of the advent of the customhouse officer-to guide him to a place of safety, or to secrete his goods upon their own premises. No informer ever arose from the ranks of this federalists; so much was certain, and where direct aid might not be obtained, the smuggler knew that he was safe from betrayal, But, on the other hand, the democrats, the supporters of Mr., Jefferson, favored the enforcement of the law. They sided with the revenue officials, and many of them were active in giving information of the places where smuggled goods or property were concealed. Loads of potash, or droves of cattle, would sometimes be accompanied with a force sufficient to overawe the customhouse officers, and prevent all attempts at seizure. At other times the officers of the government would rally their democratic friends in sufficient numbers to bear down all opposition, and to seize and carry away the property. Collisions of this kind were not unfrequent, in several of which serious wounds were received, and in one case the result was death. Large quantities of ashes were brought to the ports of Lake Champlain, and sold at a small price to speculating smugglers, who stood ready to purchase. This beautiful lake, with its secluded bays, shady nooks and uninhabited islands, offered a convenient highway to the smuggling boat, which moved only at night, and remained quiet by day. -- Major Charles K. WILLIAMS, of Rutland, since chief justice and governor of the State, was stationed with a militia force, at the important post of Windmill-point, on the western shore of Alburgh.

      The late Doct. Jabez PENNIMAN, of Colchester, was collector of the customs. A twelve-oared cutter, called the Fly, belonging to the custom-house department, cruised about the outlet of the Lake, and smuggling in that direction became uncertain and dangerous. -- Peerless among the boats engaged in smuggling was the terrible "Black Snake." With a crew of powerful and desperate men, thoroughly armed, she had for months defied the government officials. Either by stealthily eluding their vigilance, or by overawing them by a display of hostile force, she had continued to freight large quantities of pot-ashes across the line to Canada. They had had, at no time, a force at their command sufficient to render prudent an attempt to seize the audacious craft.

      Doctor John STODDARD, of St. Albans, a merchant and well-known smuggler employed the Black Snake to transport ashes from St. Albans Bay into Canada. Their course lay around the end of St. Albans Point, thence along the eastern shore of the Lake to Maquam creek -- upon this, one and a half miles, to a narrow strait connecting with Charcoal creek. Here they were obliged to lighten their boat by removing a portion of her loading to smaller ones. They then floated into Charcoal creek-down this into Missisquoi river-thence, down the river to its month -- across Missisquoi bay to Cook's bay in Canada, to a place now called Hilliker's Landing, about 1 mile north of the village of Alburgh Springs. The boat had made several trips with complete success, but was at length encountered by officer Joseph STANNARD, who commanded the crew, in the name of the United States, to surrender. STANNARD was on board, and persuaded the men to exert themselves at their oars. STANNARD, being without force to back his demand, was compelled to witness their safe escape across the line into Canada. But the officers of the government were now fully determined upon her capture. The Black Snake was built to run as a ferryboat between Charlotte, Vt. and Essex, N. Y., and was used some time for this purpose. -- Her length was 40 feet -- width 14 feet -- sides straight and high-depth 41 feet. She had 7 oars on a side, sharp bow and square stern -a forecastle, but no cabin. She had a mast and 1 sail; was steered by a rudder, was never painted, but besmeared with tar, which gave her a black appearance. John and Ezekiel Taylor, of Caldwell's Manor in Canada, purchased her to run as a smuggling boat; but when the trips became dangerous, they employed a man by the name of William MUDGETT to navigate her. As she could carry nearly 100 barrels of pot-ashes, at a freight of 5 or 6 dollars per barrel, the enterprise was a paying one, and justified some risk. But her audacious career was drawing to a close. The collector, Doct. PENNIMAN, applied to major WILLIAMS for a detachment of men to proceed in the revenue cutter called the Fly, to find and capture her. Aug. 1, 1808, Lieut. Daniel FARRINGTON, of Brandon, a discreet and competent officer, Serg't David B. JOHNSON, and 12 infantry privates, were detailed for the service.

      The Black Snake had crossed the line from Canada the previous night, and had gone up the Lake. Her crew consisted of Truman MUDGETT, captain; Samuel L. MOTT, William NOKES, Elkanah PERKINS, Slocum CLARK, Joshua DAY, Josiah PEASE and Cyrus B. DEAN. -- The men were to be paid by the Captain $8, to $10, per trip. Each man had a gun, and they were provided with spike-poles to keep off the revenue boats-several clubs 3 feet in length-a basket of stones of the size of a man's fist. They had, also, a large gun, called a wall-piece, or blunderbuss, the barrel of which was 8 feet and 2 inches long, and 11th diameter in the bore, which carried 15 bullets.

      On coming from Canada they avowed their determination to fight their way back. They were not very well supplied with ammunition, but had a jug containing 2 gallons of rum. Under cover of the night, they proceeded to Martin's Bay, on the eastern shore of North Hero, where they lay in seclusion through the day, and during the night went to the mouth of Onion river, where they arrived at sun-rise. They kept on up the river, and reached a place called Joy's Landing, 3 miles or so from Burlington, about noon. They drew their boat on shore some 60 rods above this. MUDGETT ordered the men to clean and oil their guns, and to put in new flints, where they were needed. He then proceeded in quest of provisions and ammunition, and returned with a supply toward evening. They shortly after this received tidings that the revenue boat was coming. Two men from Burlington, whose names were not given, came to the landing and informed the smugglers that they would not give the boat a load, as they were informed the revenue cutter was coming to take Her. MOTT showed them the big gun, when one of them said he would give the crew 10 gallons of rum if they would go down the river and take the revenue boat. DAY and PERKINS objected when the men took MUDGETT aside and conferred with him, after which several of the crew were set to work running bullets, at which they worked all night. The smuggling party were here joined by Francis LEDGARD and David SHEFFIELD, increasing their number to ten. On Monday evening the Fly proceeded to the southerly end of Hog Island, where they remained until morning. On Tuesday they proceeded along the easterly shore of North Hero, after passing which, and when opposite Middle Hero, a man upon the shore waved his handkerchief. They came to and were informed by him that the Black Snake had gone up Onion River. He also gave them the names of those on board. On Wednesday morning the Fly went up the river to Joy's Landing, where the Lieutenant was informed by Asa RICE, that the Black Snake lay some 60 rods above. They then rowed up the river, and, turning a small bend in the beach, came to the place where she lay: one end of her was on shore, fastened to some bushes. MUDGETT stood upon the beach, a few feet from her, with a gun in his hand. He called to the revenue boat not to land; but they, disregarding his attempt to intimidate them, ran in immediately along-side, between the Black Snake and the shore. MUDGETT retreated a few steps, but kept on threatening, and said: "Don't lay hands on that boat. I swear by G--d I will blow the first man's brains out who lays hands on her." Lieut. FARRINGTON, who seems to have been a brave and prudent man with several men then stepped on board the Black Snake, when MOTT came forward with the big gun, and resting it in the crotch of a small tree, pointed to where the Lieutenant was standing. As the two boats were about to cast off, MUDGETT came to the bank and cried to his men "Come on, boys! parade yourselves! yon are all cowards! they are going to carry the boat off!" LEDGARD came and called, in what was denominated, in the testimony given in the trial, a Methodist tone of voice: "Lieutenant, prepare to meet your God! Your blood shall be spilt before you get out of the river!" The smuggling crew, with the exception of FAY and PERKINS, walked along the bank, using defiant and threatening language, as the boats were going down the river. The Fly came up to Joy's Lauding to receive Mr. RICE, and take him across the river. Before they had landed upon the opposite side, there was a gun fired, the ball of which passed between the boats. Just as the Fly struck the shore, a second gun was fired, the ball of which passed through the stern, six inches from the Lieutenant's legs. Several guns were fired at the Black Snake, on board of which was Sergeant JOHNSON and 6 men. On the Fly, as Ellis DRAKE, of Clarendon, one of the soldiers of Lieut. FARRINGTON, was stepping aft to take the helm, he was struck in the head by two balls, and killed instantly. The crews of the two boats were about to fire, when the Lieutenant said, "Do not fire! Run to the south shore!" This done, they landed, and were met by Capt. Jonathan ORMSBY, a citizen of that part of Burlington, who inquired "why he did not arrest these men, who were violating the laws of their country!" The party ascended the bank, and had passed a few rods up the road, when the large gun was discharged, with its load of 15 bullets, slugs and buck-shot. Capt. ORMSBY fell, pierced by 5 balls, exclaiming: “Lord, have mercy on me! I am a dead man!" and instantly expired. Asa MARSH, one of the soldiers of Lieut. FARRINGTON, a resident of Rutland, received 2 balls in his breast, a buck-shot in his right shoulder, and gasped once or twice, and died. Lieut. FARRINGTON, who had refrained with so much patience from ordering his men to fire, was severely wounded. A shot went through the left arm, just above the elbow-another through the right shoulder, and a bullet wounded him in the forehead, and lodged in his hat.

      Sergeant JOHNSON, upon this, made a dash upon the smugglers, and they were all taken into custody, with the exception of MOTT and PEASE, and guarded until the arrival of the States Attorney, when they were taken to the village of Burlington and committed to prison. There was no resistance offered except by DEAN, who threw Mr. RICE when hi attempted to apprehend him; and, although tied with cords, he afterward contrived to get loose and escape through a window-but was secured. PEASE was apprehended on Hog Island, by Capt. HARMON, and MOTT by the agency of Asa BUCKLEY, Esq., of Sheldon, at Hatley, C. E., and imprisoned at Burlington.

      The greatest excitement now prevailed throughout the entire region. The people were horror-stricken at crimes like these, in the hitherto quiet and peaceable State of Vermont. They called upon the authorities of the State to maintain, inviolate, the dignity of the outraged law, and to let its tremendous penalties follow speedily and sure. The funeral of the three murdered men took place at the village of Burlington on Thursday, Aug. 4th. The remains were escorted by the militia company of Burlington, under the command of Capt. Justus WARNER, to the court-house, where religious services were conducted, and an able and impressive discourse was delivered by the Rev. Samuel WILLIAMS, L.L D., the historian of Vermont. A crowd of people from Burlington and the adjacent towns was in attendance. The rancor of political feeling was greatly increased by the events which have been detailed. The annual State election being near at hand, the democratic papers charged upon the federal party in and about Burlington, an indifference to the great crimes which had been committed, if they did not even sympathize with the murderers. A flaming hand-bill, headed by three coffins, was scattered over the State, and copied into the democratic papers, in which "respectable federalists "were charged with attempting" to screen the assassins, and throw the whole weight of guilt upon the government-"That some had said that " PENNIMAN had sent a military force to capture an empty boat, that they were glad at what had been done" -- others, that "the officers of the government alone were to blame," and that ‘old PENNIMAN ought to be hanged' -- that "some of the principal merchants of Burlington furnished the insurgents with powder and ball for the express purpose of performing this bloody work." This was indignantly denied by the federalists; nor is it at all probable that it was to any extent true. The rash expressions of heated and violent min are never to be regarded as the sober conviction of the great mass, with which, for the tune, they may be associated.

      The authorities of the State acted with promptness and celerity. On Tuesday, Aug. 23d, less than three weeks from the time of the affray, the supreme court was convened in special session at Burlington. There were present Hon. Royal TYLER, chief judge, Hon. Theophilus HARRINGTON and Hon. Jonas GALUSHA, assistant judges; William Chase HARRINGTON, Esq., States attorney; David FAY and Cornelius P. VAN NESS, Esqrs., associate counsel for the prosecution, Bates TURNER and Amos MARSH, Esqrs., were counsel for the prisoners.

      In his charge to the grand jury Chief justice TYLER alluded to the general dismay – the agitation of the public mind that prevailed"-" that some were ready to condemn the accused unheard, while others, perhaps, were disposed to excuse, and if not to excuse, to palliate." He said to the jury, that "if, in some moments of levity, any of you have thought that the primary laws of society, made for the preservation of human life, ought on this occasion to be relaxed, and to be accommodated to certain supposed exigencies of the times, purify yourselves from these prejudices."

      On Friday, August 26th, the grand jury returned a bill of indictment against Samuel I. MOTT, of Alburgh, Wm. NOAKS, Slocum CLARK and Truman MUDGETT, of Highgate, Cyrus B. DEAN and Josiah PEASE, of Swanton, David SHEFFIELD, of Colchester, and Francis LEDGARD, of Milton. The trial of Samuel I. MOTT commenced on Monday, Aug. 29th, and closed on Thursday evening, with a verdict of guilty of murder. On Friday, Sept. 2d, Cyrus B. DEAN was put to the bar for trial; but the challenges peremptory, and for favor, wire so numerous, that after an ineffectual attempt to fill up the panel, the court ordered a new venire for petit jurors, and adjourned until Saturday morning, when the trial commenced, and was closed on Monday, with a verdict of guilty of murder. Wednesday and Thursday the court were occupied with the trial of David SHEFFIELD. Jireh ISHAM and Ethan ALLEN, jr., being called as talisman, both declared that they had formed an opinion, that these men ought not to be punished. A verdict of guilt: of murder was returned on Friday morning. Mr. States attorney HARRINGTON, in his remarks to the jury on the trial of DEAN, said: "It is painful to find that party spirit, in this part of the United States, has already assumed an alarming attitude, Have we not seen, in the commencement of this present trial, measures taken and pursued by the prisoners' counsel to sweep every republican juror from the panel by peremptory challenge? Have we not repeatedly heard this question asked: 'Is such a juror a republican or a federalist? If the former he must not sit-if the latter be will answer our purpose.' "On Friday afternoon a motion in arrest of judgment, and for a new trial in the case of MOTT, was argue ; and on the following day a similar motion in the case of DEAN and SHEFFIELD. New trials were granted to MOTT and SHEFFIELD, and DEAN was sentenced to be hung on-Friday, October 28th. A respite, however, of two weeks, was given to the wretched man, by the governor. On Friday, Nov. 11th, at 12 o'clock, he was conducted to the court-house, where a solemn and appropriate discourse was delivered by the Rev. Truman BALDWIN, of Charlotte. After the religious services, he was conveyed to the place of execution, which was situated a few rods west of the present burial-ground in Burlington, and, at 3 o'clock, P.M., was swung off. He exhibited to the last a degree of hardihood and careless unconcern, perhaps never equaled in this part of the country, and sadly contrasting with the mournful solemnity of the occasion. It was estimated that there were 10,000 spectators present. No more trials took place at the special term of the court.

      At the regular term in January, 1809, MUDGETT was tried; but the jury, in his case, did not agree. He was remanded to prison, and at the term of the court in January, 1810, a nolle prosequi was entered in his case by the State, and he was discharged. MOTT, SHEFFIELD and LEDGARD, at the January term in 1809, were convicted of manslaughter. MOTT and SHEFFIELD were sentenced to stand 1 hour in the pillory, to receive 50 lashes each on his bare back, to be confined 10 years in the States prison, and to pay all costs of prosecution. LEDGARD's sentence was the same, with the exception of the 50 stripes. These convicts were all received at the Vermont State prison on the lst day of June, 1809, it being the 2d day after the prison was opened for the reception of prisoners. LEDGARD was pardoned by the governor, Nov. 12, 1811; SHEFFIELD, Nov. 4, 1815; and MOTT, Oct. 15, 15, 1817.

      Thus closes the account of the career of these lawless and desperate men. No one of them is known to have regained, to any extent, the reputation lost by this bloody crime. They removed either to Canada, or to distant portions of this country, and most, if not all, died as they deserved, in obscurity, neglect and poverty.

JUNE TRAINING IN VERMONT.
A SERIO-COMIC HISTORY BY L. L. DUTCHER.

      A distinguished Scottish writer has said, that "nothing is trivial which throws light upon history." I quote this remark for the reason, that some may be wondering what can be made of a subject so trite and common as the one which I have chosen; while others may go so far as to deem it hardly equal to the dignity of-a discussion. I will say further, that history is not always occupied in the narrative of great events. It is not a mere catalogue of mighty deeds and illustrious achievements. History does not walk upon stilts, communing alone with demi-gods and heroes. Her mission lies with the humble as well as with the lofty, and regards the social status, no less than the national polity. That history of a commonwealth which should refrain from portraying the home-life of its people, would fall far abort of all just expectation, and would be accounted altogether unsatisfactory and incomplete. There are many things which influence a state in its progress and contribute to shape it- destinies, which, isolated by themselves, appear to be of little importance. Of this character are the manners, habits, customs.-the songs, sports and pastimes of a people, which, whatever we may think of them, are nevertheless legitimate and indispensable subjects of historic record.

      June training -- what shall I say of it. Venerable old humbug-admirable burlesque of every thing military. Apotheosis of the cocked hat and the peacock's feather, the gorgeous epaulette and the gay cockade. Holiday of holidays, with its fumes of burnt gunpowder, root-beer and gingerbread; with the shrieking of the wry-necked fife and the pounding of the old tub-drum. Saturnalia of fun, frolic and roistering good humor, jovial, grotesque, obstreperous, grand carnival of fizz-pop-bang! Such was June training in the olden time, the first Tuesday in June was the day fixed by the laws of the State, for the annual inspection and drill. Its coming has been anxiously awaited. With the earliest streak of dawn, squads of the younger and more ardent soldiery assembled in front of the dwellings of their principal officers, to fire a morning salute. The report of the heavily loaded guns rung out upon the still, clear air of morning, roaring down the values, and awakening a thousand echoes along the hill-sides, rousing whole neighborhoods prematurely, to the glories and the fatigues of the day. The officer thus honored appeared in his door-way in dishabille, and invited his comrades in arms to enter and partake of refreshments which had been provided over night, in anticipation of the visit. The staple refreshment was whisky, and under its influence, a continued popping of fire-arms was kept up, until some time after sunrise. But at length, there is a movement toward the village where the training is to be holden. People of all ages, many with arms and more without, in wagons, on horseback and on foot, are passing along the highways and coming in across-lots. In they come excited and mirthful. The village is soon alive with men and boys. The taverns, stores and shops are full. The bar-keepers in their shirt-sleeves are doing a lively business, and the music of the toddy-stick is incessant. Among the drinks of the old time was blackstrap, a compound of rum and molasses, which was quite too popular with the young men and boys, many of whom were, by its use, started upon a career of intemperance and ruin. The street shows a motley crowd, swaying hither and thither as some new object of excitement turns up. Flags flutter, drums rattle, and arms glisten in the sun-beams. In the parlor of the hotel sit the commissioned officers, stiff and stately in their unaccustomed toggery. In a corner near by stands a table, spread with the inevitable decanters, at which the guests are invited to help themselves. The white-haired old soldiers of the Revolution come round, and are among those who require no second invitation. At length the long roll sounds from the drums, the orderly sergeant comes upon the scene armed with a spontoon, and calls on every man to fall in. The squad marches up end down the street, rapidly augmenting in numbers, and is finally paraded upon the green. A sergeant, with the music and a detachment of men, is then sent to the hotel to escort the officers to the ground. They soon appear upon the piazza, the observed of all observers. On they come, keeping step to the strains of soul-starring music, and with a heavy fringe of tatter-de-malion boys upon either flank and rear. The rank and file receive them with presented arms, and the captain assumes the command. The orderly sergeant is summoned to the front and calls the roll. On one occasion, a sergeant commenced calling out his own name, but was stopped by the captain who said to him, what do you do that for -- did'nt you know that you are here? Roll call being over, the musket drill, or as it was called, the manual exercise commences. A veteran of the Revolution stands in front acting as fugleman, and the men are taught to imitate his motions. The line exhibits a terrific array of guns, clubs, umbrellas and pitchfork handles. Of the former, the most common is the old French gun of the Revolution, a serviceable piece with bands and trimmings of iron. Next comes the British gun, or as they were called, the king's arms, a handsome article with brass mountings. -- Then come hunting guns, rifles, shot-guns and sporting-pieces, no two of which are alike. Occasionally might be seen a gun nearly 7 feet in length, used by hunters, and highly prized, for bringing down game at long distances. Dr. John WARNER, of St. Albans, had a famous gun of this description. This was the weapon with which he fought in the memorable battle of Bennington, and which, by repeated firing, became so hot that it could no longer be holden. He had captured, early in the day, seven Hessian prisoners with their guns. One of these he took, and with it fought the battle to its bloody close. The Doctor's old gun was carried to the trainings by one of his sons, the late Mr. Isaac WARNER.

      On one of the regimental muster days, while the inspection of arms and equipments was progressing, the officers in their turn came to young WARNER. The inspecting general took his gun in hand, examined it and said, "This looks like a good gun, it has a good lock and it is a mighty long one too, -- can you kill anything with it?" "Yes," said young WARNER "I can kill a deer at 40 rods, and a tory twice as far." Dr. WARNER was among the most noted hunters of his day. Not one of those, however, who waste powder and ball upon birds and squirrels; this, for him, would have been small business, except when they were wanted to supply his table. But let a marauding bear, or prowling wolf, venture into the settlement, and Dr. WARNER was the man to take to the track, and lucky indeed was the animal that escaped the contents of the famed seven footer. A catamount invaded his premises one night, and purloined from its pen the fatting calf. In the morning on discovering his loss, the Doctor took down his gun, and accompanied by his valorous and trusty dog, started in pursuit. He came upon the animal quietly making a breakfast upon the calf. A shot badly wounded but did not disable him. The Doctor loaded and came up a second time, fired, and drove a charge of lead clean through his body, yet the animal with the tenacity of life characteristic of his species, although writhing in agony and bleeding profusely, was still able to make off. The dog now pressed him closely and he went up into a tree. A third shot inflicted a terrible wound in the side of his head, destroying an eye and rendering him frantic with rage and desperation. He came rapidly down the tree, and set upon the Doctor with the energy of despair. The fight was exciting, but with the aid of the dog, who diverted the attention of the catamount by a prompt attack upon his rear, the Doctor was enabled to break his scull with a club.

      In the season of deer-hunting, the Doctor, with his boys, would frequently take to the woods in the morning, and return at evening with the carcasses of five deer.

      The Doctor was a firm democrat, and his vote for the regularly nominated ticket, except upon a great emergency, could always be relied upon. The democratic party had become a majority in the state, and had elected their entire ticket with the exception of the governor. The Hon. Isaac TICHENOR, the federal candidate, was a formidable antago nist. By his great personal popularity and adroitness in managing the canvass, he continued to detach democratic votes sufficient to insure a re-election. The democratic leaders were greatly chagrined at this, and redoubled their efforts for his defeat. A great training was holden at St. Albans which was attended by -Gov. TICHENOR, who reviewed the troops and made them a speech. No man could do this better. He was a polished gentleman of the old school, and had the rare gift of knowing just what to say, whatever might be the occasion. The hotel where he stopped was filled with people, among whom he circulated blandly, with a grasp of the hand and a kind word for each. The leading democrats were watching closely and growing uneasy and nervous. They were exceedingly disturbed on seeing Dr. WARNER, that redoubtable old democrat, taken into the governor's private room. The Doctor's stop there was not very long, but when he came out, he was accosted at once by the late Gov. VAN NESS, at that time a brilliant and rising young lawyer ac St. Albans, who somewhat imprudently asserted, that the Doctor had been electioneered by Gov. TICHENOR. The sturdy old Doctor, with a sincerity which nobody could question, replied, "It’s a lie; the governor never said a word about politics. I'll tell you every word he said." Said he, "Dr. WARNER, I want you to tell me the greatest distance at which you ever shot and killed a deer. I wish you to be particular remembering, as I have a reason for asking the question." "I told him that I had shot and killed a deer at a distance of 50 rods." He then said, "Doctor, you've beat me. I killed a deer not many weeks since at a distance of 47 rods, and I really supposed that I had beaten every man in Vermont. I was sure I had, unless it was you; but I give it up -- you've beat me; I shall have to try again." "And that," said the old Doctor, "was every word that passed between us," On election day, the Doctor, with his boys and a following of hunters and trappers who always voted as he did, went straight for Gov. TICHENOR and he was re-elected.

      But we will return to the company which we left paraded upon the green, and going through the manual exercise. Elections of officers frequently took place on June training days, and we will suppose that a corporal has been chosen. He steps to the front, faces the company and doffing the chapeau, addresses them as follows. "Gentlemen officers and fellow-soldiers, I return you my sincere thanks for the honor you have conferred upon me, in choosing me for your corporal, and I will endeavor to serve you according to the best of my abilities." This was the regular form of speech, adopted by captain, lieutenant, ensign, sergeant and corporal. I never knew of its being departed from but once. A smart, resolute young man had been elected a lieutenant, and being determined to break loose from the stereotype form, assured his comrades, that for years his bosom had burned with a desire for military glory, and should the occasion ever arrive, he would be ready to lead them to victory or death.

      The settlers of Vermont were mostly good marksmen and expert hunters, and the proper handling of the musket was not a very difficult thing to learn. The gun was almost as indispensable as the axe, and not to be a good shot, was near to being in dishonor. They had moreover picked up from the old soldiers of the Revolution, considerable knowledge of the musket drill, and hence, became rapid learners when once afforded an opportunity for practice. The various evolutions in marching were a much more difficult matter. There existed but little knowledge of this, either among officers or men, and as a consequence, the most ordinary movements were very unskilfully performed. Captain Freeborn POTTER, commanded the indomitable flood-wood company of St. Albans, some 66 years ago, and was a fine specimen of the kind of men by whom this State was settled. He was a man of strong mind, but deficient education. Two months of schooling was all that he eves enjoyed, and during that time, he did the chores of a large family, including the cutting of the wood for the winter fires, and the foddering of a large stock of cattle. When he took command of his company, it had never been drilled, nor was he, in military knowledge, much ahead of his men. But having accepted office, he felt bound to do all he could to improve his command. Accordingly, he procured for himself a new and handsome uniform, and exerted himself to get up a military spirit among his men. Yankee-like, he had picked up education sufficient to transact ordinary business, but when he came upon the language of the books, upon technical terms and set forms of expression, he generally ignored them altogether, and took the first word that came up, which would answer his purpose. On the first Tuesday in June, his company were called out for the annual inspection and drill. He was trying to wheel by platoons. It was easy to give the word of command, but the platoons did not come round exactly like a gate upon its hinges -- on the contrary, the men showed a strange proclivity to get mixed up, and the company began to present the appearance of a confused huddle. Capt. Potter, seeing the disorder, forgot in his confusion, all military jargon, and shouted, "hallo, hallo there, what are ye about-now stop right where you be." When the attempted march was arrested, said he, "why don't you mind your bunch," and passing in among them, pushing the misplaced men back into the platoons from which they bad straggled, he said, "there, darn ye -- get into your partin." Now said he, "when we try this again, every one of you must be sure and mind your bunch, and keep in your partin." Capt. POTTER was not to be daunted by this unfavorable beginning, but persevered until he brought his company up to a respectable militia standard, and handed over to his successor a very different one from that which he found. Capt. TAPLIN, of Montpelier, was less successful. His company was deficient in that esprit du corps, which is so essential to all improvement. The men considered military duty a thing to be gotten rid of when it could be, and -when it could not, then to be endured and got along with in the easiest manner possible. On a certain June training-day, they were marching about the streets of Montpelier. The captain, tall, erect and bony enthusiastic, and filled with martial fire to his very fingers' ends, was marshaling his command with an energy which won the admiration of all beholders. A fine brass-band which he had hired for the occasion, filled the air with spirit-stirring music, and Capt. TAPLIN was the proudest and the happiest of men. As they went "marching along," be turned into a different street without giving an order to wheel. Going on with head erect and lofty military stride, be all at once wheeled suddenly about, to execute some brilliantly conceived movement for the gratification of the crowd, when to his utter consternation, he saw his company, plodding complacently along the street he had just abandoned, leaving him with the band, alone in his glory.

      Capt. John GATES had an experience in some respects similar. He was a soldier of the Revolution, and had served with credit in the army of the immortal Washington. But many years bad elapsed since the duties of the camp and parade had been exchanged for the peaceful pursuits of life. In the seclusion of his hill side farm, he had become accustomed to the driving of cattle, rather than the marshaling of men. It is not singular, therefore, that in a moment of thoughtlessness, he should substitute for the military word of command, the less sonorous, but more familiar dialect of the farm. His company were marching on a certain training-day, and instead of an order to halt he said Whoa. The men kept on, some of them looking back and saying, "We aint oxen." No, said the old captain, "I should not think you were; you act more like steers." At noon there came a recess for dinner. Scenes, which the pencil of a HOGARTH alone could picture, followed. This was especially to be observed on general training or regimental muster days. Arms were stacked and guards set, when the troops, noisy and gleeful, scatter in all directions. The officers repair to the hotels where extensive preparations have been made for dinner, and a corps of fresh waiters extemporized for the occasion. The booths and shanties around the green where refreshments were sold, were well stocked and eager for business. They hold out various inducements to purchasers. In one, they exhibit a tame deer; in another, the cub of a black bear, or perhaps a full grown brain. In another, a fiddler draws his bow vehemently, throwing out sounds rasping and loud, which are nearly drowned in the din and hurly-burly without. At another, the proprietor stands vociferating to the passing throng, "walk up, call up, roll up, tumble up, any way to getup."

      The refreshments having been disposed of, the green is covered with straggling masses, where there is wrestling, jumping and other trials of strength. Peddlers mount their carts, and by loud shouting and wild gesticulation, attract an eager throng, to whom they vend cheap wares at auction. The inevitable soap-man is here too with his jokes and songs, plying his vocation with the Johny-Raws of the vicinity. The liberated soldiers are gay and frolicsome. A mischievous youngster with heavily loaded gun, creeps cautiously near to some unsuspecting comrade, and fires, in close proximity to his ear. The start of surprise and alarm of the latter, causes a yell of delight from the surrounding multitude. The recess ends, and the drum-major, in scarlet coat and with official baton, draws up his corps of fifes and drums, and the long roll sounds. Officers and men hurry back to their places, and the afternoon exercises commence. The troops march through the streets, and the town is enlivened with the shrill notes of the fifes and the rub-a-dub of the drums. After this comes the inspection, when the arms and equipments of each individual soldier are carefully examined and noted upon the orderly book. Such as are fully equipped according to law, were exempted from payment of a poll-tax. Regimental reviews were attended by the brigadier general and his staff, all mounted and in full military costume. The general with uncovered head rode slowly along the front and rear of the battalion, while the troops stood with presented arms. After this, he took position in front, and the troops, marching in platoons, passed in review before him. General trainings were often closed by a mock battle, or (as it was called) a sham-fight. They never became very popular. In one of these bloodless contests, an ambush had been laid for a party approaching. The men in ambush, seemed to be opposed to the taking of any unchivalrous advantage over their opponents. There they lay, concealed to be sure, but with fifes and drums playing their loudest strains. The old militia officers however ignorant they might have been of military tactics were nevertheless, mostly, men of great personal courage, as any one who crossed their track readily ascertained. They were the successors and representatives of Ethan ALLEN, Seth WARNER, Remember BAKER, and their indomitable associates. Many of them were the sons of these hardy, intrepid, lion hearted-men, to whom the old Vermont song makes its stirring appeal: 

"Ho! all to the borders, Vermonters come down, 
with your breeches of deer-skin and jackets of brown, 
With your red woolen cape and your moccasins, come 
To the gathering summons of trumpet and drum. 
Come down with your rifles, let gray wolf and fox 
Howl on in the shade of their primitive rocks,
Let the bear feed securely from pig-pen and stall,
Here's a two-legged game for your powder and ball. 
Leave the harvest to rot on the field where it grows, 
And the reaping of wheat to the reaping of foes,
Our vow to is recorded, our banner unfurled,
In the name of Vermont, we defy all the world."

      Rough and uncultivated as were the most of these brawny old militia-men, yet for valor and true bravery, they have never been exceeded in the history of the world. A more splendid stock of lighting men, we very well know, never existed, than has been furnished by our own gallant State.

      How they assisted in rolling back the tide of invasion which threatened Plattsburgh is well known, when, in the language of the old song:

"The Vermonters
As thick as bees,
Came swarming o'er the lake, Sirs,"

      Their valor was acknowledged by the commanding General (MACOMB), and by Gov. TOMPKINS of New York. 

      It certainly was no fault of the sturdy old officers, that our militia system failed to accomplish all that was expected from it. Some of the more enterprising and persevering of the old captains did succeed in getting up something like military order among the men of their commands. Capt. Levi HUNGERFORD, who commanded the militia company of Highgate during the early years of the present century, was a fine specimen of this class. He was a man of great energy, liberality and public spirit spirit, and when once set upon an object, rarely gave back. It was his determination that his company should be the best in the regiment. Highgate was in part settled by Dutch emigrants from the neighborhood of the Hudson river, and they proved to be singularly unmilitary in their habits and taste. At some of the earlier June trainings, numbers of the young Dutchmen came to the ground and took their places in the ranks barefooted. The Captain had a fund of quiet humor upon which he sometimes drew with effect. He said nothing about the nude feet, but commenced marching his company among thistles, over which he passed again and again, until the lesson intended had taken full effect. To encourage his men in the performance of their duty, he provided each man at his own expense with a neat and becoming uniform. This consisted of a rifle, frock and trousers, with a worsted fringe of green. As this company was the first uniformed body in the county of Franklin, its appearance commanded general admiration. The general trainings were holden every year at St. Albans, and were attended by great crowds of people. The governor was occasionally present and harangued the troops, the general and his staff were always there, and these gatherings became the great occasion of the year. To make an imposing display in entering the village of St. Albans upon the morning of general training-day, was the great object of Capt. HUNGERFORD's ambition. His company were halted upon the outskirts of the village near the residence of Judge HOYT, when the men brushed the dust from off their uniforms and equipments, and every thing was put in the best possible condition. The company was then formed in order for marching, when the Captain passed along their ranks, scrutinizing closely the appearance of each individual soldier, and rejecting such as he judged unfit for the ordeal they were to pass. When all was completed and they were in readiness to move, he took his place at their head, and tremulous with emotion, addressed to them a short and pithy speech. This, upon one occasion, ran substantially as follows. "Attention company. I want yon all to hear what I am going to say. We're going to march right through St. Albans, straight to the parade-ground, and there'll be a thousand eyes upon us. The governor is there, and the general, and I don't know how many more. They'll watch us close, you may depend. Now let's show 'em what Highgate can do. Heads up every man. Every man of you do your very best. An hour now is worth a whole eternity to come." The multitude in the village meanwhile were on the look-out for the grand-entry of Captain HUNGERFORD's company, and when they heard the rattle of his drums and looking up the street beheld the well-known Highgate banner, the glistening guns and the white uniforms of the troops approaching, the excitement ran quite high. The piazzas, windows and doors along the street were filled with women and girls in their best attire, and the road-side presented solid ranks of admiring men and boys. Capt. HUNGERFORD was in his glory. With drawn sword and high military bearing, he marshaled his one hundred men, performing various evolution as, they marched, which, however common they might appear to the veterans of the present, were by the spectators of that day, considered the me plus ultra of military skill. The company proceeded to the parade-ground and took place in the line of the regiment. In the afternoon a grand review took place before Gov. TICHENOR and the high military officers. The Governor complimented Capt. HUNGERFORD upon the fine appearance of his command. The stout old Captain replied, "Governor, when I took command of that company, they was as awkward as Job's oold-ox, but now, why they'd scale the walls of Quebec."

      A brother of the Captain, the late Simeon HUNGERFORD, Esq., killed a lynx with a fire-shovel. He was riding through the pine woods in Highgate one day, when an over-grown lynx bounded into the road and attacked his dog. The dog, although a heavy and powerful animal, was not a match for the lynx, and clung closely to the side of his master for protection. The lynx followed boldly and whenever Mr. HUNGERFORD essayed to drive him back, would show his teeth and growl. On arriving at the log-cabin of Peter STINEHOUR, he sprang from his horse, rushed in and asked for a gun. STINEHOUR being out with his gun, the only available weapon to be had was a heavy iron fire-shovel. The lynx had come up and had fallen upon the poor dog whom he was fast overpowering. Mr. HUNGERFORD grasped the fire-shovel and sprang to the rescue, when on opening the door, in rushed both dog and lynx in mortal encounter. The woman with her children screaming in terror, ran up the ladder to the attic for safety. Mr. HUNGERFORD dealt the lynx a heavy blow with the shovel, but without apparent effect. He struck a second time with all his force across the small of the back, when the lynx relaxed his hold upon the dog and made for the door. Mr. HUNGERFORD, by, repeated blows succeeded in dispatching him, and throwing the carcass across his horse, bore it home in triumph.

      We had in St. Albans, some 49 years ago, something of a collision between the judicial and military authorities. The Franklin county court was in session on the first Tuesday in June, in the court-house, and Capt. Heman GREEN, with his company, were enacting June training upon the green in front. The presiding judge was annoyed with the music of the fifes and drums, and sent an officer to "order that captain to take his company elsewhere for the purpose of drilling." Captain GREEN replied, that he was not aware that a judge of the court possessed any authority to issue a military order; that himself and his men were engaged in the performance of duties required of them by the statute law of the state; that the public green was the place where the trainings had always been holden, and was, in fact, the only place where a company could be maneuvered; that he should disturb the court as little as possible, but that the training must go on. The Judge, on, hearing Capt. GREEN's reply, fired up, and ordered the sheriff to arrest and bring him into court forthwith. The sheriff made known the mandate of the judge, whereupon captain GREEN ordered his men to fix bayonets. They were then drawn up at the court-house door, and left in charge of lieutenant John WHITTEMORE, who was ordered to enter and take possession of the court-room, in case the captain did not return at the end of 5 minutes. Capt. GREEN then, in full military tog, entered the court-house, and, without doffing the cocked-hat, stalked up to the judge's seat, and inquired what was wanted. The lawyers, officers and jurymen were greatly amused, and a suppressed titter ran over the court-room. --The Judge, with a puzzled countenance, looked up from his notes, and, trying to assume an air of self-possession, said, with an attempt at sternness: "What noise is this that I have been hearing?" Capt. GREEN replied that he could not tell what noise it was to which his Hon. had alluded, It might be the gabble of the lawyers; and, possibly, he might mean the fifing and drumming upon the green." The Judge, then, with something like the appearance of the man who won the elephant in the raffle, said: "Let me hear no more of it." "Is this all ?" said Capt. GREEN. Yes, that was all. He then returned to his company, and "June training" went forward with increased energy.

      During the recess at noon, the affair at the court-house was freely discussed throughout the village, and in a manner not very complimentary to the Judge. Some of the young merchants and others presented Capt. GREEN with a quantity of powder, which they urged him to use freely during the afternoon training. When the company came together after the recess, the fifes and drums seemed possessed of an extra clamor of noise. There was firing, also, to an alarming extent -- by files, by sections, by platoons and by the whole company. The training wound up toward sun-set with an uproarious sham-fight, when the men were ordered "to the right-about-face!" and dismissed. How the Judge got along with his court that afternoon, I never knew; but at evening he said to Capt. GREEN that he guessed he had been a little too fast, and that he wished the matter buried in oblivion:

      The legislature of Vermont, Oct. 30, 1844, repealed every act in relation to the militia: thus abolishing all military organizations and trainings, and leaving the State with no defence against foreign aggression, or force to secure internal tranquility. The martial spirit of the people was not merely allowed to decline, but through the example of our law-makers, was made the subject of idle jest .and ridicule. The officers, whose military consequence was thus summarily destroyed, were more or less indignant; but the rank and file, who had long since voted June training a bore, were well pleased. The noisy drum and ear-piercing fife were silenced -- banners were furled, and plumes went drooping. Swords and guns were put aside to rust and corrode, and dashy uniforms were packed away to become the pasturage of moths.

      But June training was not thus to pass into oblivion. From the shades of Academus were to come the men, who, for a time at least, were to preserve its memory in vivid recollection. Overturned by our law-makers it might be; but it was yet to become a subject of profound and earnest agitation in college-halls, and to furnish matter for grave and anxious deliberation to the erudite and reverend savans. The students of the University at Burlington (or perhaps I should say a large proportion of them) combined to honor its memory by a fantastical celebration of the first Tuesday in June. On each returning anniversary a grotesque procession was formed, in which a variety of characters and professions were represented. Proceeding from the college campus, they marched through the principal streets, receiving various testimonials of approval in the shape of wreaths, bouquets, &c; bestowed, probably, on those who, in the opinion of the fair donors, were considred most deserving for rendering themselves supremely ridiculous. The music of the occasion was furnished by drums and fifes, in the hands of those who never handled a musical instrument before. To these were added a band made up of obsolete instruments of tin and brass -- the sackbut, psaltery, dulcimer and shawm -- tang-lang, locofodion and hogag. They, however, reserved their efforts for special occasions, when they woke the echoes in strains of altogether unearthly music. They halted in front of the Ladies' seminary, where they were drawn up in line, a speech was made, and the young ladies were complimented with cheers. On arriving at the court-house square they drew up in front of the American hotel, where spectators had congregated to the number of two or three thousand. Here they were reviewed by the commander-in-chief, Col. Jefferson BRICK, who delivered an appropriate speech. The roll was then called, and the annual health report, 30 feet in length, read by the surgeon. After a salute of one gun by the flying artillery, from a toy-cannon of half-inch caliber, enclosed in sundry joints of rusty stove-pipe, and drawn by specimens of skin and bone, once known as horses, the corps returned to the college, where they were disbanded.

      There were not wanting wit and humor sufficient to redeem these proceedings from much of the grossness which otherwise would be charged to them. The preparation for June training grew every year more extensive, and began seriously to encroach upon the hours of study. The country round about was rummaged in search of quaint old habiliments and cast-off regimentals. For days previous to 1st Tuesday in June, the people talked of little else than the approaching celebration, and were wondering what new and unheard-of spectacles of waggery, the students were getting up for their amusement. When the day arrived, the rush from the surrounding country was tremendous. They came in crowds, by rail-way and carriages -- the steam-boats brought large numbers from across the Lake, and the inhabitants of Burlington turned out in full force. The windows of the American hotel, and of the adjoining block, were taken out, and were filled with female faces. The roofs of all the buildings around the square were crowded with spectators. Every good look-out, anywhere near the spot, was occupied, and a dense mass of bystanders and lookers-on, in carriages, crowded the southern side of the square. The college authorities, while they heartily disapproved these practices, did not actually forbid them; but in the year 1856, after the preparation had been completed, they decided that the training should not be holden. The students, to avoid a direct collision with the authorities, decided that their celebration should be the burial of June training. They provided a coin upon which was inscribed: “June training died June 3d, 1856. Death loves a shining mark." This was placed upon an open wagon, and drawn by 6 broken-down skeletons of mules, harnessed tandem, with 8 of the raggedest urchins in Burlington for riders. The motley phalanx proceeded to, the court-house square, near the centre of which a grave had been dug. A funeral eulogy was then pronounced by the chaplain, from a text in Aristophanes: "Kleite te" -in English: Weep ye. A speech from the redoubtable Col Jefferson BRICK followed; when June training was lowered to its last restingplace.

      The participants in these scenes are now older and probably wiser men. Scattered over the country, and engaged, for the most part, in active and honorable pursuits, they have long since ceased to think of June training. They believe it to be both dead and buried, and will no doubt be greatly surprised when they hear that its ghost has been upon the walk, and that it has even been flaunting in the face of the literary associations, and the grave Historical Society of Vermont. June training had an eventful life. It was honored by our fathers -- and there are many among the living who doubt the wisdom of the legislation by which it was destroyed. It has met its death-it has had its burial. It has now bad its historian; and we may henceforth say --

      We first met at Brandon in 1857 or '58. Her husband, Mr. A. H. BINGHAM, was principal of the Brandon Seminary, at the time d for several years after. She was a woman of personal attractions and poetical temperament. She wrote at this time, and several years later, we think, not only for the paper published by Mr. FORD then in Brandon (the Rev. Wm.), but for several other publications, and a pleasing group of her poems is clustered in both editions of our Poets and Poetry of Vermont. The poem which follows was selected by her, for her niche in this work -- a dirge for a young friend, which we read remembering she, too, died in the full bloom of her womanhood. She died of a bronchial difficulty, terminating in consumption, and was lingeringly sick for some years. Indeed, she was in a slow decline when we first met her. We saw her at Middlebury in the autumn of 1859, she had not spoken a loud word for over 6 months then, and yet her flesh had not fallen nor her cheek faded, and she lived yet on till the spring of '61. While at Brandon, she made a profession of Christian faith, and was received by Bishop HOPKINS, into the Protestant Episcopal church. Says her husband, to whom we wrote soon after her death, for data for a biographical notice, "Mrs. BINGHAM was born in St. Albans, Sept. 10, 1825. Her father was a surgeon of great usefulness and repute in that town and surrounding county. She was married in Addison, Vt., Nov. 9,1843, and died in Westfield, Mass., April 16, 1861, She was a dear, precious wife, a warm-hearted, genial friend, and in many directions, a woman of superior abilities. Her exit was peaceful..--Ed.

Gone to the silent tomb!
Gone from life's duty;
Gone in her early bloom; 
Gone in her beauty!
While her young heart beat high. 
Filled with love's gladness,
While her soft loving eye 
Drooped not with sadness;
Ere her check's rosy bloom 
Sorrow had faded;
Ere life's cold cheerless gloom, 
Her brow had shaded;

While the bright Autumn leaves
Softly were falling,
Voices from spirit land,
To her were calling, 
`Sister come quickly home!
Thou must leave mother, 
Father -- and dearer one,
Sister, and brother.
Sister, come; -- do not fear.
Tarry no longer:
Strong ties now bind thee here -- 
Heaven hath stronger.'

SARAH A. BINGHAM.

MEMOIR
BY THE REV. J. H. HOPKINS, 
OF BURLINGTON

      Mrs. Charlotte Emily FAY was the oldest child of the Rt. Rev. J. H. HOPKINS, D. D., first Bishop of Vermont, and was born on the 4th of May, 1817, at Hermitage Furnace, in Ligonier Valley, Pennsylvania, while her father was yet a layman, and engaged in the manufacture of iron. She was it child of extraordinary beauty and precocity, and in both these respects her early years only foreshadowed the reality as seen in the fully developed woman. When she was about fourteen years of age, her father removed from Pittsburgh to become Professor in a newly organized Theological Seminary, and assistant rector of Trinity Church, Boston. During his residence at Cambridge, Mr. Charles FAY was admitted a candidate for holy orders, and, in his attendance at the Professor's house, an acquaintance with the daughter rapidly ripened into an attachment. When in October, 1832, the Professor became the first Bishop of Vermont and opened a school in Burlington, Mr. FAY soon followed, was transferred from the diocese of Massachusetts to Vermont, bore his part in the labors of the school, and was ordained deacon on the 9th of June 1833. On the 5th of September following, the marriage took place, Mrs. FAY being only a little more than 16 years of age at the time. Thenceforth she was a faithful helpmeet for her husband in each successive sphere of his labors.

      Some years were spent mainly in her father’s school at Burlington, varied with a brief sojourn in Vergennes. In 1837 they went to Highgate, where her passion for teaching -- which was one of the irrepressible instincts of her life -- soon formed a small school. In January 1841 they sailed for Savannah, and went up to Montpelier, Ga. to take the religious and literary oversight of the new diocesan church school for girls, then just started in that diocese under the zealous leadership of Bishop ELLIOTT. Here Mrs. FAY's health, -- never very strong, owing to the precocious development of her earlier years, -- broke down at length under the burdens which the insatiable activity of her mind and will was ever too ready to assume; and in the autumn of 1843 they left Montpelier for a small and quiet parish at Bayou Goula, in Louisiana. A private school was soon started here also, which was continued until Mr. FAY was called to the building up of a new parish in New-Orleans. About two year's residence in that city was terminated by the ravages of the yellow fever, from which the family suffered so severely, that early in 1848 they returned to Vermont, Mr. FAY having been elected rector of the parish at St. Alban's. Here the congenial work of teaching was soon resumed and was continued with indomitable energy and spirit, though through obstacles continually increasing as health slowly and steadily failed; nor was the heroic struggle suspended until she breathed her last -on the 23rd of September, 1856, overcome by a complication of disorders, among which the chief were consumption and heart-disease.

      Mrs. FAY was not only beautiful, but the range of her powers was as extraordinary as her ability in each department. She was brilliant in conversation, ingenious in argument, and capable of kindling a generous enthusiasm in the hearer. As a musician, not only were the highest productions of the greatest modern masters of the piano-forte easily within her reach, but, whether on that instrument or the organ, she could extemporize with wonderful facility and varied beauty; and the harp and the guitar and other minor and instruments she had easily mastered also. Imagination and a vivid fancy not only gave a drapery of rich coloring to her ordinary writings, but in times of more than usual excitement irresistibly crystallized in poetic forms. She was a rapid and insatiable reader, and digested all she read. Her fingers were as skilful with pencil and crayons and brush as with the needle: and both oils and water color proved her success. In landscape gardening she took great delight. Her own sufferings compelled her to undertake medical studies, and the extent of her proficiency in this department, both theoretical and practical, was such as might easily have made some men successful and wealthy practitioners. She saved many lives; and no labor or fatigue was too much for tier to endure in ministering to the poor. Yet in everything except the desired return of affection from those she served, she utterly lost sight of self, and devoted her intensest energies, with uncalculating profusion, to the service of others. For the animating principle of every fiber of her existence was her all-pervading sense of religion. Her whole life was one continuous sacrifice upon that altar. In words which vividly describe the exalted intensity, and the eager cravings of tier higher faculties and powers, a writer in the Atlantic Monthly says of her: --

"Her mind was ever in a fever of desire, of invention, of agonized craving for the realization of the dreams of beauty, of beneficence, and of friendship that tormented her. The music sang in her ears; the pictures floated before her eyes; the fearful and wonderful human organism haunted her brain ; the dread mysteries of sin and suffering, the awfulness of human, responsibility, the glories of salvation, burned upon her lips as she taught her children their daily Bible-lesson; and still, nailed to her chair, the swift needle went in and out, -- went, as it often seemed to her, through her delicate lungs as well as through the cloth, until at nine-and-thirty the struggle ended; the body, after long paroxysms of exquisite anguish; gave up its stronghold on life, and the rich soul exhaled away to Heaven, rejoicing to escape from the bars against which it had so long beaten its bright wings in vain."

AN HOUR IN THE ST. ALBANS CEMETERIES.

      South of the village centre, about the half of a mile upon the left, on the bold, low brow of a hill, side by side -- two in front, and one in the back-ground -- are the three St. Albans cemeteries. The village stretching away, northward, and reaching out westward, suburb-like -- the rail-road valley below, the grandeur of hills beyond -- over, against, around, beneath -- all one map of landscape beauty, out-spread -- these people have given, we note, the sacred city of their dead, the best site therefore in all their pleasant environs. We go up the little style, or flight of steps for foot-people, below the broad entrance-way for carriages and the sad processions, and, are within the old St. Albans cemetery. Upon one of the first and principal shafts we read the name of the Rev. Dr. Worthington SMITH, the 'great St. Albans man.' We wander among the graves, and find buried here, Seth WETMORE, Silas HATHAWAY, Hon. Benjamin SWIFT, Judge Bates TURNER, Hon. John SMITH, [* Dr. SMITH and John SMITH are buried is the new cemetery; but their shafts are plainly seen from the old. L. L DUTCHER .] Maj. MORILL, Dea. HORACE and Hon. Jona JANES all names that we have known so long. We have found our St. Albans of the past surrounded by monuments and tall head-stones -- and with the lower curiously carved old head-stones, of from 40 to 70 years ago, we are more acquainted than with the village below. The names on these marble portals are more familiar than on the door-plates there, and the inhabitants, who dwell here, interest us more. -- The men who dwell in our grave-yards seem not like the present generation. Perhaps distance lends enchantment; but the lines between the good and the bad certainly seem more broad and distinct, and the difference more visible between the "professed" and "unprofessed."

      There was a noble class of old Congregational fathers of the earlier day in the State; men who did cordially hate the intrusion of the Baptist and the Methodist in the towns where they had planted their churches -- all which was not against them as men, and rather for them as Christians; allowing only that they had a more honest belief in their Calvinism than the men of today, and a grand large-heartedness, withal, to act out the part of an "elected" child. Their graves are thick here, as in most of the old yards in the State. They read their own divines, kept the Sabbath-day up to the high Puritan mark-believed implicitly, or almost, the sermons preached from their tall, narrow, box-like pulpits, raised a little above the galleries-combined politics and town-government, moderately, generally, with their religion -- secured the minister-lot, so far as practicable, and preaching, by a tax on the grand-list.

      The times in which they lived brought them out in a bold and favorable relief, upon the foreground. They stood up, grandly and sturdily, in their moral worth, and in their patriotism distinguished among the "settlers," where they will ever stand, honored and conspicuous, upon the first page of the history of our State. They were a class never to be forgotten in the land. We never cross that common below, but what we seem to see the figure of Father WOOSTER in the midst of the green, stiff and erect, refusing to march to the sound of the Episcopal bell, the first time it was rung -- which the Episcopals, with the humor of an exultant party, interpreted: "the good parson stood still from reverence." Yet the uncompromising old parson, to the Episcopalians and their bell. knew how to be lenient to a brother. Says Judge SOULE: "While one of the deacons, on Sunday, was wending his way to meeting, he espied Mr. Joseph SOULE securing hay before a storm. He (the deacon) advised Mr. WOOSTER to go and labor with him for working on Sunday. Says Mr. WOOSTER: 'Oh p'shaw! let Jo SOULE alone. He won't work enough all the week to break the Sabbath"' Mr. WOOSTER was fully a man in whom peculiarities are admirable -- a grand representative man of his day and age. He was buried in Fairfield, the place of his long pastorate; but he preached here to many of these people in these graves, for some two years, we believe, and was always familiar here.

      The monument thought to be most beautiful in these grounds -- and it is a chaste and fair work of art, of fine Italian marble -- is erected, or reclines, over the grave of George F. SAWYER. The monument represents a female, weeping. We pause sadly by this grave. We never know the one who is buried here, that is directly; but the poor old biographist-brother,* who had such a gift as we have been in no other man for graphic, off hand oral description -- who wrote such strong, and so many, political papers, and who died murmuring polities-we knew very well We are thinking, now, how he walked the room and talked, the first time we went to him to take down with our pencil some account of the men of his earlier day in Burlington. There is no one to write his biography for him, as he for his brothers, so proudly, sorrowfully, affectionately. And our eye runs over many more head-atones, and our feet wander beside many more graves.

      From the first grave entered here to the last, all belong to our domain, and to the history of this people ; and I confess that I would like a perfect list of the names on every stone here, and whatever was peculiar in their lives, to hand down on the pages of the history of St. Albans. I have a partial list, which I find among the papers of Mr. Dutcher, (to whom belongs every paper, not otherwise credited, in the history of St. Albans) which I will transfer here

"COPYINGS FROM GRAVESTONES"

     The old cemetery is upon the upperhand, and the new upon the lower; the grounds being divided from each other, and from the Catholic yard, by a fence. In the Protestant yards are quite a number of Catholic graves -- all, or mostly, either of converts who were buried with their families, or of families who owned lots. Of the former, in the new cemetery, not far font the entrance, three head-stones in a line, large and white, with a garland and cross upon the marble, mark the graves of three sisters born in Fairfield, this county, and who removed here with their parents, lived here for some years, died* here, and here were buried.

      Debbie, Helen and Anna BARLOW were the daughters of Hon. Bradley BARLOW, a man of wealth and influence in the County Their lives are written in Mrs. SMALLEY's book -- one of the few native books, as yet, of Franklin County -- wherein we read of Debbie and Helen at school at Villa Maria, Montreal, Debbie reads a book that leads to the investigation of the grave claims of Catholic theology, becomes the earnest young convert, whom nothing can turn back, goes straight forward on -- beautiful Helen follows her serene persevering steps, and Anna follows Helen. The three are as stars on the forehead of the morning. One by one they transmute and pass away on the pages of this pleasing book. As the earliest sister-cluster of flowers of the Catholic faith in Vermont, these young lives have an interest, religious and historical, but as they have already been embalmed in biography, they do not call, perhaps, for further notice. But, here is also in the old cemetery, the graves of two other young Catholic sisters, the circumstances of whose deaths were as tender and perhaps as interesting-almost, which ate altogether unrecorded. It is the grave of the SMITH sisters to which I allude. In the little burial lot where it is made, are the graves of a household of ten, save one. Mr. G. G. SMITH and wife and five children were received into the Catholic church about 1848. They had previously buried their three eldest children while very young and soon after they laid one of the remaining five here.

      Mr. SMITH died next, leaving his wife, two sons and two daughters, of whom the oldest son, the present homeopathic physician of St. Albans, is the sole survivor. The second son, Heber R., died in January, 1863, in his 21st year. The oldest daughter, Frances, we once saw. We recollect at this time the rare innocence of her countenance. Sarah is said to have been more brilliant, she could scarce have possessed more sweetness. Sarah first began to show symptoms of decline. The gentle Frances, as she had done all her sweet life, followed Sarah, Sarah keeping about the same distance in advance; but as she entered every lane that leads down the dark valley, she looked back for Frances, and Frances desired to overtake Sarah. It seemed they could not be separated, and both so desired to go together to God. It is said they asked it in their communions and their prayers for a long time. It was a sight that interested all around-two lovely village girls who had grown up in their midst into young womanhood, fading as a double rainbow in a summer sky. A few weeks before they died a young lady friend, soon to be married, brought in her trousseau to let these sisters see it. They had been her young girl and school-mates. These dear sisters looked at the rich dress-stuffs, the beautiful lace-work, the lovely flowers. They pronounced everything pretty, very pretty, beautiful! It was sweet to see what an artless interest they took in it all, But when they had examined and innocently'enjoyed all, said Frances, turning with a bright smile to Sarah. "But Sarah, we wouldn't exchange with her for the world, would we?" "Oh no!" said Sarah the same bright look communicated to her face. It was thought Frances might yet live some days when Sarah was taken in her agony. Frances, who at once desired to be brought to her room, sat supported by her bedside and encouraged her. Such was her love, she was jealous for her sister; least she should, in the greatness of her sufferings, by but one moment's impatience, dim the brightness of her sacrifice. It was a tender dying bed, upon which one sister lay in the last struggle, and by which another sat, that light in her eyes, and whiteness in her face -- she was sure to go soon. And not less interesting; perhaps, than her two dying girls, at the foot of the couch stood the widowed mother herself, already smitten by the same family destroyer, and near the brink of the grave, to which she but a few months later went down. Said one, who had but just come from the scene. "She stood, so pale and sorrowful, but so silent, she reminded us of the Mother of Sorrows, herself, and the water-proof cloak in which she had draped herself, as the night was chilly and she felt the cold, the hood of the garment shadowing her face, rendered the resemblance striking, to that so well known picture, the Mater Dolorosa.

      Sarah died about midnight. Frances was carried back to her room and died at 10 o'clock the next morning. It was talked among the Catholics, that Sarah upon first entering the spirit world had besought this favor. They were buried in one grave and one coffin: robed in blue silk, they lay within each others arms in the double casket; the hair of Frances rich and sun-hued, gathered back from her gleaming white forehead, scarcely more serene than in life. Sarah, who had had more changes and beauty, nestled with her face toward her sister, now very still and white. It was, perhaps, the most interesting picture of death the village bad ever witnessed-two young sisters between the ages of 19 and 22. Both had, in dying, received the sacraments of their religion. Their funeral was largely attended and the Bishop of the diocese preached upon the occasion, saying in his sermon, “Our Lord never comes into a house but what he brings with him a cross " He praised these young women as having given all their talents always to the church, He spoke of their voices having assisted in the choir and of Frances as organist and how they labored in times of fairs when money was to be raised for the benefit of the church. They died in the summer of 1866.
In this cemetery is, also, the lot of one other prominent convert family which we will briefly note: Upon one of the stones we read Mrs. Crynthia PENNIMAN and her age and the time of her death. Mrs. PENNIMAN was the wife of E. MARVIN, Esq., the son of Dr. MARVIN of Franklin, (for whose biography see town of Franklin in this volume.) After the death of Mr. MARVIN, Mrs., MARVIN was married to Dr. Jabez PENNIMAN, of Colchester, whose first wife was the widow of Gen. Ethan ALLEN. Mrs. PENNIMAN survived her second husband, also. She lived after his death with her daughter Mrs. B. H. SMALLEY, a daughter by Mr. MARVIN. She was an Episcopalian for many years and one of the number who, soon after Mr. HOYT, became Catholics. In the plot with the grand-parent sleeps a name-sake grand-daughter. The stone which marks the smaller grave is lettered, "Cynthia Smalley, aged 17." It is the young grave of her for whom the "Out in the Cold," in the Swanton papers was written. But what has this artless village maid in her life, that her name should be written? Little, save that she was an only daughter of a well-known barrister in the State, and her mother the most gifted lady writer of northern Vermont, and people will take an interest, at least, in the history of their authors and that of their family. Yes, there is little to say of one whose life may be told in one simple answer to a companion who pressed to know why she did not read Harper, -- Harper which was so elegant, so amusing,-Harper in which there was no harm, and could not hurt her if there were. "My Lord has given me a pearl of great price to keep, it is very bright now, but it is of such delicacy the least breath contrary to it may dim its luster, and I want to keep it bright to carry to Him." This Cynthia is the niece for whom "Aunt Laura's Lament" was written. Aunt Laura rests also in the same burial-plat. I think there are no other Catholic graves of particular interest in these yards. It has seemed proper to mention these the more particularly, as Catholics do not bury usually in Protestant cemeteries. It is the only graveyard, of which we know, in the State, where so many Catholic graves are intermingled and a Catholic yard adjacent.

      In the new cemetery, there is also the ALDIS family monument, in whose shadow sleep three other sister-graves -- among the loveliest of St. Albans' daughters, we have been told were these beautiful daughters of Judge ALDIS. That same pale disease that gathered those other young Flowers from Fairfield, and from this village, and that sweeps away annually so many of our fairest and most interesting young women just blooming into womanhood, before a blight the least has fallen upon their youth and beauty, gathered these same blossoms, in this intellectual and happy family.

      We stand now by the grave-side of Mrs. Charlotte Emily FAY. A few leaves of her manuscript, redolent with poesy, breathe fragrance from the page devoted to her in this St. Albans. In our vision is the loveliness of her portrait, painted by her gifted father, in our memory the song of her 'Roses.’

      Here rests another who had written before he came to sleep with them, of many who sleep here -- but a little while before he came. It is the grave of the venerable James DAVIS, who was to have furnished the history of St. Albans, but died, and Mr. DUTCHER succeeded to the work which he has accomplished so well.

      There are other graves we would mention were we upon the spot-there must be -- we write now but from memory -- These interesting graveyards moved as so much when we visited them -- we can now only so "lay their ghosts."

      The finest burial site however, we regarded when we visited this yard, was that of our old acquaintance, Mr. Jonathan M. BLAISDELL, whose memorial is also among these papers. The old homestead, northward on the brow of the hill, with the giant cotton trees before the door is distinctly seen from his grave. It was a son of his, and who lives over in that house, who grappled one of the robbers, coming out of the bank in the time of the rebel raid which Mr. DUTCHER tells about But an hour in a graveyard is almost as short as life, and we have no more space. ED.
 
 

"The Vermont Historical  Gazetteer: 
A Magazine Embracing A History of Each Town, 
Civil, Ecclesiastical, Biographical and Military."
Volume II, Franklin, Grand Isle, Lamoille & Orange Counties.
Including Also The Natural History of Chittenden County.
Edited and Published by Miss Abby Maria Hemenway. 
Burlington, VT. 1871.
Page 289-368.

Transcribed by Karima Allison 2004
 
 

St. Albans Bay Cemetery, St. Albans, VT

St. Albans Point Cemetery, St. Albans, VT

Mt. Calvary Cemetery, St. Albans, VT

Holy Cross Cemetery, St. Albans, VT

Greenwood Cemetery, St. Albans, VT