Chips, fragments and vestiges by Gail Hamilton collected and arranged by H. Augusta Dodge |
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TEA PARTY IN HAMILTON
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 | Chips, fragments and vestiges by Gail Hamilton |  |
TEA PARTY IN HAMILTON
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(On Tuesday evening, the 2d inst., the ladies of Hamilton gave a Tea Party, at which the citizens generally availed themselves of the opportunity to give welcome to the Hon. Samuel W. Moulton, member of Congress from Illinois, formerly of Hamilton. The distinguished guest was introduced in a few complimentary remarks by Hon. Allen W. Dodge, who presided on the occasion. ... Mr. Dodge then said as he understood from his friend that it was now the common practice of members of Congress to read their speeches, he would finish what he had to say by reading the following verses:)
Good friends and neighbors far and near,
Old friends and neighbors meeting,
We tender you the close hand-clasp
Of warm and hearty greeting.
Each happy face, each merry voice,
Full testimony gives
That in the hearts of all her sons
Old Hamilton still lives.
Old friends and neighbors meeting,
We tender you the close hand-clasp
Of warm and hearty greeting.
202
Full testimony gives
That in the hearts of all her sons
Old Hamilton still lives.
She boasts no commerce on the seas,
No factories, wealth to give her—
Although she has a brook so big
She calls it Miles's River!—
Yet gazing from her hill-sides down,
Her fields and meadows over,
You'd say the good old quiet town
Must always live in clover.
No factories, wealth to give her—
Although she has a brook so big
She calls it Miles's River!—
Yet gazing from her hill-sides down,
Her fields and meadows over,
You'd say the good old quiet town
Must always live in clover.
She sits at peace with all the world,
Has sons of every race;
She keeps her handsome, dark-haired Danes
In very thriving case;
Yet not a man of all this throng
Will dare cast blame upon her,
If she confess she holds her French
In very special honor.
Has sons of every race;
She keeps her handsome, dark-haired Danes
In very thriving case;
Yet not a man of all this throng
Will dare cast blame upon her,
If she confess she holds her French
In very special honor.
She has no wiles to lure the weak,
She works with honest pride;
Yet men from many a distant spot
Come flocking to her side,
Convinced in spite of toil-rough hands
Her gardens are a gay-land,
And that a right good humor turns
Her short (k) night into Da (y) land.
She works with honest pride;
Yet men from many a distant spot
Come flocking to her side,
203
Her gardens are a gay-land,
And that a right good humor turns
Her short (k) night into Da (y) land.
A plodder in the good old ways
Is still our ancient town;
She's not ashamed to show a Patch
She loves a sober Brown.
And though her fear of foreign foes
But very slight and small is,
'Twould do your eyes good but to see
How high and strong her Wall-is.
Is still our ancient town;
She's not ashamed to show a Patch
She loves a sober Brown.
And though her fear of foreign foes
But very slight and small is,
'Twould do your eyes good but to see
How high and strong her Wall-is.
Of course this fine old rural town
Counts woman as the sov'reign,
And on her busy, helpful hand
All gently slips the Love-ring;
As well as she can afford to do—
The reason surely holds pith—
For broad of lands and deep of purse,
Her smith must be a gold-Smith.
Counts woman as the sov'reign,
And on her busy, helpful hand
All gently slips the Love-ring;
As well as she can afford to do—
The reason surely holds pith—
For broad of lands and deep of purse,
Her smith must be a gold-Smith.
Her modesty will match her worth;
She only calls him Knoll-ton,
Whose acres stretching far and wide,
Might seem to grasp the whole town.
But, though she is a modest dame,
'Tis something sure to brag on
That all Ohio once was wrapped
In Parson Cutler's wagon.
She only calls him Knoll-ton,
Whose acres stretching far and wide,
Might seem to grasp the whole town.
204
'Tis something sure to brag on
That all Ohio once was wrapped
In Parson Cutler's wagon.
They know her West, they know her East,
As by her fire she nestles;
To bridge her little purling rills
The Pine-tree State sends Tres(t)les.
To all the poor who ask her alms
She gives both food and lodging.
And yet her warmest friends admit
She has a trick of Dodge-ing.
As by her fire she nestles;
To bridge her little purling rills
The Pine-tree State sends Tres(t)les.
To all the poor who ask her alms
She gives both food and lodging.
And yet her warmest friends admit
She has a trick of Dodge-ing.
And when her house grows overfull,
She bids her children forth
To win good name and friend and fame
By honest work and worth;
She gives her blessing to the lad—
He goes a beardless boy,
But home he comes with beat of drums,
The pride of Illinois.
She bids her children forth
To win good name and friend and fame
By honest work and worth;
She gives her blessing to the lad—
He goes a beardless boy,
But home he comes with beat of drums,
The pride of Illinois.
Her soldier sons, her strength and joy,
Stand round her hearth to-night;
She binds a glory on their brows
Who fought for truth and right.
A love of country naught can chill,
In her deep bosom stirs;
No rebel traitor North or South
Is ever son of hers!
Stand round her hearth to-night;
She binds a glory on their brows
Who fought for truth and right.
205
In her deep bosom stirs;
No rebel traitor North or South
Is ever son of hers!
In all her mirth she thinks of those
Who shall return no more;
They sleep on Georgia's field accursed,
On Mississippi's shore;
They died 'neath Carolina's skies,
They pressed Virginia's sod,
In freedom's holy cause they died—
She trusts their souls to God.
Who shall return no more;
They sleep on Georgia's field accursed,
On Mississippi's shore;
They died 'neath Carolina's skies,
They pressed Virginia's sod,
In freedom's holy cause they died—
She trusts their souls to God.
Now dawns the morning bright and clear
Upon a ransomed land;
With garments cleansed from slavery's stain,
Before the world we stand.
So, brothers, give to God the praise.
Upon a ransomed land;
With garments cleansed from slavery's stain,
Before the world we stand.
So, brothers, give to God the praise.
[Closing lines missing.]
| Chips, fragments and vestiges by Gail Hamilton | |