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twice a day, unless something happened
to prevent, which did happen about every
other day. For the rest of the time we
were busy in keeping still. Oh, dear!
Can there be anything worse for a lively,
mercurial, mirthful, active little boy, than
going to a winter district school? Yes,
going to a summer district schoo!! There
is no comparison. The last is the Miltonic
depth below the deepest depth." "Gen-
erally," he says, "the barrenest spot is
chosen as a location for its school house,
the most utterly homely building is erected
without a tree or shrub and there those
who can do no better pass the pilgrimage
of their childhood education." In his
case "not a tree was there to shelter the
house; the sun beat down on the clap-
boards till the pine knots shed pitchy
tears, and the air was redolent of warm
pine-wood smell." In conclusion, while
admitting his prejudice he writes: "We
abhor the thought of schools. We do not
go into them if we can avoid it. Our
boyhood experience has pervaded our
memory with such images as breed a
private repugnance to district schools,
which we fear we shall not lay aside until
we lay aside everything into the grave.
We are sincerely glad that it is not so with
everybody. There are thousands who re-
vert with pleasure to those days. We are
glad of it, but we look on such people
with astonishment."

"O I remember (about the remotest
thing I can remember) that low seat, too
high nevertheless to allow the feet to touch
the floor, and that friendly teacher who
had the address to start a first feeling of
enthusiasm and awaken the first sense of
power. He is living still and whenever I
think of him he rises up to me in the far
back ground of memory as bright as if he
had worn the seven stars in his hair." And
at this point (for the address was delivered
at the Litchfield Centennial Celebration,
Aug. 14, 1851,) an auditor told me, Dr.
Bushnell paused and fixing his eye on an
old man before him in the audience
pointed at him with an outstretched arm,
and with a burst of feeling that almost
choked his voice, said, I said he was living,
yes, he is here today, God bless him.

To some the thought of what has been
will only waken sadness as they visit these
by-ways of New England. The abandoned
farm house with its front yard given to the
growth of black-berries; the broken mill
wheel rotting on the stream tell their
pathetic story of declining power. But
there is a conservatism of energy in society
as well as in nature, and in those valleys
there are many mill wheels turning yet.
When John Randolph of Virginia saw a
drove of mules passing through Washing-
ton on their way to the south, it is said,
he bantered Marcy of Connecticut with
the remark," there go some of your con-
stituents." "Yes," quickly retorted
Marcy, "going to Virginia to teach school."

And now at the third angle is Bushnell. He reverts to the practice of boarding the teacher around; of the wood brought by the fathers to the school house in quantity according to the several quantities of children, and describes like the other the school building," the seats made of the outer slabs from the saw mill, supported by slant legs driven into and a proper distance through augur holes, and planed smooth on the top by the rather tardy process of friction," and then exclaims,

The mental and moral wealth of New England has been making the world rich. The strength of these hills has reappeared in New York, Ohio, Iowa, Illinois and the Dakotas. It lives in colleges, and laws, and churches north and south, and blesses those who dwell on the shores of seas that are pacific. Only a listless traveler will drive along these roads or rest beside

these lakes and not remember this.


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town lives to itself. Its glory is to produce men, and a man is the world's common property. The men who climbed these hills and cleared the little spaces for their homes and for God's house of prayer were builders of a nation. Searching for their graves beneath the pines, among the bushes and the overgrowing weeds, far from the roadways, and even in neglected pastures, one may ask for an "Old Mortality" to chisel out anew their names upon the blackened slab or crumbling marble; but their soul is marching on.

Even now the spirit of the fathers comes anew to greet the hills. Transmuted into modern life and recognizing new conditions it builds a house of refuge on the mountain's side and homes for tired city girls upon the streams. We do not need again the "Age of Homespun" of which our Horace Bushnell wrote so feelingly; but we shall always need the sense of homage and the grace of thankfulness. If one would have these wakened in him, let him muse awhile in some such region as this article has but imperfectly described.



And must you go? God-speed, then. But to me This life will seem not half so gay :

Our paths divide, but may they meet again—
Some other place, some other day.

'Tis sad to part, but friends cannot always Walk side by side, or sit and chat : The deviating paths of this poor life

Wind in and out, this way and that.

Sometimes alone and sad we wonder on-
No friend to cheer the fainting heart,
No hand to smooth the rugged path of toil,
No smile to bid our tears depart.

'Tis sad to struggle thus alone, and yet It would be well, if we but knew— Beyond a question or a painful doubt

That friends, though absent, still were true.

I wish you all the joys that fortune gives:
Are these denied, then better still-
Perhaps, though less desired-a fearless heart,
And strength to bear life's every ill.





HERE are doubtless numerous persons, who are not aware that a man, who ever took pride in the fact that Connecticut was his birthplace, once had the presidency of the United States within his grasp, but declined the honor. For such this sketch has been prepared. As a citizen of Connecticut has never occupied the presidential chair, the elevation of the man referred to would naturally have been regarded as somewhat of an honor to our good old state. It was only because of an innate modesty, a delicate sense of honor, and a most unswerving loyalty to a distinguished personal friend, that he was not nominated and elected. Had he lived in the state of his birth in modern times, and the same opportunity had occurred, his action might have been different. Men are hardly so modest and magnanimous in these "advanced" days.

The Democratic national convention of 1852 was held at Baltimore in June. The delegates from Connecticut were James T. Pratt, William P. Burrall, Ephraim H. Hyde, Minott A. Osborn, John W. Stedman, and Frederick Chittenden. A delegate from the State of New York had steadily received votes from the com

mencement of balloting. On the fifth day of the convention, on the call of the states for the thirty-fourth ballot for a presidential candidate, the Virginia delegation, which had retired for consultation, came in and cast the fifteen votes of that state for the gentleman from New York. This action was received with great favor. The honored delegate, by general consent, at once took the floor, and addressed the convention as follows:

"Mr. President: I came not here to speak; but I should be much more or much less than human, if I could, under these circumstances, be silent-if I could arise and address this convention without the very deepest emotion. I came here not for myself, but as the representative of others, clothed with the highest functions, which it shall be my chief ambition to discharge. I came here not with instructions, but with expectations stronger than instructions, that I would vote for and endeavor to procure the nomination of that distinguished citizen and statesman, General Lewis Cass, of Michigan.*

"I have enjoyed the highest honors the sovereignty of my state could confer, and I have seen times when, in the discharge

NOTE-The writer, in boyhood, had frequent opportunities to listen to the eloquence of the subject of this sketch, both in the court-room and upon the public platform. A memoir by his brother, the Congressional Records, and information obtained from many sources, have been invaluable in the preparation of this much delayed tribute to the memory of a son of Connecticut.

* At this point a number of magnificent bouquets were thrown upon and about the speaker by ladies in the galleries, and loud and long continued was the applause.

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rich fruition of the present, and the glorious hopes of the future of our country, to go with me for the nomination of one who has been abundantly tried and ever found faithful, Lewis Cass, of Michigan. We cannot find a single individual acceptable to us all. Every one can pass criticisms upon opposing candidates. None are perfect. There are many stars in the galaxy. Let us then cease our struggles and act in a spirit of forbearance, conciliation, and compromise.

"I tender my most grateful thanks to my friends for the choice offering they have brought me, and congratulate them and all other friends upon the good temper that prevails in this convention. I ask them not to expect me to depart from the line of my intentions, and I know they will not. My spirit is willing, and the flesh is not weak; the highest temptation, I repeat, could not induce me to depart from this course."

The speaker was Daniel S. Dickinson. Of the gentlemen who addressed the convention with reference to Mr. Dickinson's declination, Mr. Leake, of Virginia, remarked that, in the words of a distinguished statesman, the presidency was neither to be sought for nor declined. The fact that the gentleman from New York had declined the nomination was the highest argument in his favor.

On the thirty-fifth ballot the Virginia delegation cast the vote of that state for Franklin Pierce, of New Hampshire, and on the forty-ninth ballot he was nominated.

of public duties, I have been covered with revilings; yet, amid all the varied responsibilities of life, I have never experienced an occasion so trying as this. But should I hesitate or waver? No, Mr. President! From the time I took my seat in this convention, men who never knew me, men who never before had seen me, cast for me their votes from the beginning. Well may I feel proud of this, and claim it as a rosebud in the wreath of political destiny. And now I see the land of presidents-the ancient Dominion— coming here and laying her highest honors at my feet. Virginia, the land of chivalry, the land of generosity, the land of high and noble impulses-a land of all others willing to rescue my name from every imputation. I cherish her vote as of the highest worth and import. As an offering unsought, unrequested, opposed to my own wishes, it has been brought to me, and is, therefore, the more precious. But while I thus prize, and shall hold in grateful remembrance to my last hour, a compliment in every respect so distinguished, I could not consent to a nomination here without incurring the imputation of unfaithfully executing the trust committed to me by my constituents-without turning my back upon an old and valued friend. Nothing that could be offered me-not even the highest position in the government, the office of President of the United States-could compensate me for such a desertion of my trust. I could receive no higher compliment than has here been tendered me, but I cannot hesitate in the discharge of my duty. I would say to my Virginia friends that I shall go home a prouder, if not a better man. And may I not ask my friends, the representatives of the Old Dominion, who have by their generous action stayed up my hands, may I not successfully invoke them, by all the history of the past, by the

Pierce and King were elected in the following November by an overwhelming majority, the Whig candidates, Scott and Graham, receiving the electoral votes of but four states-Vermont, Massachusetts, Kentucky and Tennessee. The result was the annihilation of the Whig party as a factor in American politics.

Had Mr. Dickinson been nominated and elected, it is probable that American history from that time forth would have been somewhat different. He might have been able to stem the tide of growing hostilities between the old-time North and South upon the slavery question, but the inevitable result could only have been postponed. The election of Pierce may now well be regarded as providential, as it undoubtedly tended to hasten the tragic events that occurred in the sixties, which might otherwise have been precipitated upon another generation.

DANIEL S. DICKINSON. (This portrait of Mr. Dickinson was obtained from his daughter, Mrs. Courtney, by Hon. Jerome DeWitt, Mayor of Binghamton, N. Y.)

Daniel Stevens Dickinson was born in Goshen, Litchfield county, September 11, 1800. In boyhood, with the other members of the family, he removed to Chenango county, New York, settling in the locality which later became the town of Guilford. The hardships, adventures, and privations of pioneer life were there encountered. But the family brought to

their new home their New England love for social order and improvement. The first school organized in the neighborhood was taught in a room of their dwelling. By nature a student, Daniel succeeded in laying the foundation of a thoroughly practical education; and from this beginning, by pursuing a system of energetic self-culture and extensive reading, aided by an exceptionally fine literary taste, he ultimately became a ripe scholar, well versed in the classics, and familiar with history, poetry, political economy, and the various branches of science and literature. He was a teacher in various schools for about five years, and during that period became a practical land-surveyor.

About 1825 Mr. Dickinson began the study of law at Norwich, N. Y. In 1828 he was about to ask the Court of Common Pleas to admit him to the bar, when he learned that his admission would be opposed because he had pursued his studies in too "private" a manner. He then went to Albany and applied to the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, who caused him to be examined, and he was admitted to practice in all the courts of the state. In 1831 he removed to Binghamton. Here he entered upon a large legal practice. and soon took rank among the prominent lawyers of the state.


Mr. Dickinson had ever been a devoted student of the Bible, and his frequent allusions to biblical personages and events, in the course of his arguments, won for him the appellation of "Scripture Dick" among his brother practitioners. Mr. Dickinson's power before a jury was something marvelous, and his magnetic presence, and clear, ringing voice, never failed to enlist the sympathies of an audience at the very beginning of his remarks. Toward the close of his life, his venerable appearance, his long, snow-white hair, and the benign expression upon his coun

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