useful brooms for sweeping,
Which they sold for cash or barter.

On the hill side daily toiling,
Found they roots and herbs for healing,
Ferns to cure the poison ivy,
Soft witch hazel steeped for bruises.
Many medicines they fashioned
For the people of the township,
Selling each for cash or barter.

4. DO YOU WISH TO HEAR THE STORY?

With one accord you ask to hear
All the story of the Light House
And those who dwelt with hardy cheer
By the peaceful Tunxis River.

Do you wish that I should tell you?
Tell you how this people came here?
All the story of the Light House?
Of the cabins and the village?
Of this people and their labors?
Of the graveyard on the hill side?
Of the forest-sheltered graveyard?
Of this tribe who were the founders?
Of this tribe who were the children?
All the legend of the Light House
By the peaceful Tunxis River
In the town of fair Barkhamsted?

If you wish your questions answered,
Listen to this ancient legend
From the storied hills of Litchfield,
From the confines of Barkhamsted,
And the valley of the Tunxis.

5. PETER BARBER'S LOVELY DAUGHTER.

There was a maiden sweet and fair,
Daughter of great Peter Barber,
The richest man residing there,
Always dignified and stately.

Far off then, in regions eastward,
Of the time long past and vanished,
Near the land where flows the river,
Flows the mighty Central River
Through rich Wethersfield a rolling
Southward to the sea-born billows,
Dwelt a rich and portly farmer
By the name of Peter Barber,
Always dignified and stately
Was this wealthy Peter Barber,
To this man was born a daughter,
In the year of sev'nteen-fifteen,
And he named her Molly Barber,
Of appearance bright and comely,
Fairest of the village maidens,
Sunshine of her father's mansion,
Loved and cherished by her mother.
Always truthful was this daughter,
Honored, trusted and respected,
By the people of the hamlet,
Heeding well her parents' wishes.

6. SWEET AND FAIR AND MOST ATTRACTIVE WAS THIS LITHE AND GRACEFUL MAIDEN.

No fairer maid was ever seen
Than this lovely Molly Barber,
Who moved as graceful as a queen,
Meeting all with joyous welcome.

Golden Yellow were her tresses,
Banked in ringlets o'er her shoulders.
And her eyes the violets rivalled,
Dancing lights like diamonds shining,
Sparkling clear or laughter rippled,
Glad with joy or sad with sorrow,
Meeting each occasion bravely
As a queen without a scepter.

Pearls from ocean's deepest waters
Equalled not the shining jewels
Glowing in her lips' enclosure.
Laughed she like the ringing silver,
As she spoke of many matters,
Shyly joking, singing, talking,
Busy spinning, weaving, sewing,
Ever happy, smiling gayly,
Quoting often from the sagas,
Ancient poems, words of wisdom,
Apt replies to Cupid's arrows.

Sweet and fair and most attractive
Was this lithe and graceful maiden
To the crowds of beaux and daughters,
Basking in the cheerful sunshine
Of her smiles so sweetly beaming.

7. ONE ALONE MET HER APPROVAL.

And many came to win her hand,
Using all the wiles of suitors,
With all the arts at their command-
One alone met her approval.

But of all the ardent suitors,
Seeking for her hand in marriage,
One alone met her approval,
Found his eager courtship welcome,
Found his visits were encouraged.
All the others were rejected,
All the offers that they made her,
All the flowers that they sent her,
All the letters that they wrote her,
All the poems that they brought her,
All the presents that they gave her,
All the riches that they spoke of,
Failed to win her smiling promise.

8. ASKING FOR HER FATHER'S BLESSING.

With hopeful glance and gentle voice,
Kneeling then before her father,
She asked his blessing on her choice,
Looking for a kindly answer.

Speaking shyly with her father,
Molly told of her devotion,
And her choice of all her suitors,
Fair and honest, strong and hardy,
Toiling daily for his living
In the field and in the forest,
Was the one her heart had chosen
For her partner and her husband
And the father of her children.
Kneeling there she softly asked him
For his blessing on their union.

9. THEN HER FATHER ANSWERED STERNLY.

Her father's face grew dark and stern,
Lifted he his voice in anger,
"You shall at once this beggar spurn;
Seek a richer man, my daughter."

Then her father answered sternly,
Spake against her heart's selection,
Saying with a show of anger,
"Choose a richer man, my daughter,
Never shall you wed this fellow,
Born to toil and lowly labor.
Let him find a slave his equal
Here among the village wenches.
Seek a richer man, my daughter
From the suitors that surround you,
One who has ancestral acres,
Meeting all the needs of living
Meeting all the needs of leisure,
Filling life with joy and pleasure,
While his servants do his bidding.
Live, my daughter, like a princess,
Free from weary care and worry,
Stooping not to lowly labor,
Never shall you wed this fellow!"

Rising slowly, Molly answered,
Answered slowly, speaking calmly,
Though her heart was torn with sorrow,
"Listen, father, to your daughter,
Speaking of her heart's affection-
Him alone of all the suitors
Holds my love and admiration,
Him alone I wish to marry.
May I have your blessing, father?"

Bitter was her father's answer,
Cutting her like winds of winter,
"Seek a richer man, my daughter,
Never shall you wed this beggar!"

10. "CROSS ME NOW AND I WILL MARRY HIM WHO FIRST IN LOVE MAY ASK ME."

Then Molly bravely took her stand,
"Cross me now and I will marry
The man who first may seek my hand,
Whether white or any color."

Answered Molly, speaking calmly,
"Always have I sought to please you,
All your wishes have I followed—
Cross me now and I will marry
Him who first in love may ask me."

11. SADNESS SETTLED ON THE HOUSEHOLD.

So Molly's father called the Law,
Set a guard around his mansion,
And on his household then he saw
Sadness, like a shadow, falling.

Adamant was Molly's father,
Changing not his angry order,
Heeding not his daughter's pleading,
Or her mother's mediation.
Stern and cross grew Molly's father,
Posted warnings 'gainst the "beggar",
Asked the Law to force his order,
Set a guard around his mansion,
Walked in blackness through his kitchen,
Spoke with angry tone and gesture,
Swore that he would "kill the beggar",
Thinking to subdue his daughter,
Knowing not her wilful spirit
Matched his own in daring purpose,
Knowing not the years of sorrow
That his harshness was preparing,
All the numbness and the pathos
That would follow his decision;
All the anguish and the sadness
He