father's stately mansion,
With its comforts and its riches,
Still she toiled beside the river,
In the valley of the Tunxis,
Through the ever changing seasons,
Watching o'er her children's children
To the third great generation,
Till they called her Granny Chaugham,
And her name became a legend,
Fold beyond the distant oceans,
And her spouse, the Honest Chaugham
Lived respected by all people,
To the year of eighteen hundred,
When his spirit left the hill side,
On its journey to the Happy Hunting
Ground beyond the western sunset.

33. MOLLY TRIED TO READ THE SCRIPTURE.

The clouds obscured the western sky,
Darkness circled round the grave yard
As Molly sadly breathed a sigh
O'er the grave of Honest Chaugham.

There was sorrow in the village,
When they laid him on the hill side
Southward where the soil is sandy,
In the grave yard in the forest.
Molly tried to read the Scriptures,
So the children have reported,
From an old and tattered Bible—
Last of all her childhood treasures,
Given by her loving mother,
But her voice was low and broken,
Hardly could they hear her speaking,
So they sat in gloomy silence
'Till the ev'ning shadows lengthened,
And they left him there in darkness
With a field-stone for a marker,
Seen to-day on Ragged Mountain
In the graveyard's dim enclosure
In the town of fair Barkhamsted.

34. GRANNY CHAUGHAM THOUGHT OF MOTHER.

All lonely, weary and bereft,
Granny Chaugham thought of mother
And all the friends that she had left
By the mighty Central River.

Only then did Granny Chaugham
Seem to feel the years were many;
Only then did Granny Chaugham
Seem to think of home and mother
And her father's spacious mansion
By the mighty Central River,
With the flowers in the spring-time
And the yellow leaves of autumn;
Then the coming of the winter
And the friends that used to gather
In the ev'ning in the parlor—
All the fiddling and the dancing,
All the gay and playful parties,
All the games they played together,
Thinking not of gloom or sorrow—
Joyous days now gone forever—
Days when father was good-natured
And her mother's days were happy.

35. "MOTHER, 1 AM WEARY WAITING:

And from the darkness came a voice—
"Gone forever are your parents;
Long years ago you had your choice,
Speaking with your angry father."

Lying on her bed at midnight,
Lonely Granny Chaugham murmured,
So her children have reported,
"Mother, I am weary waiting
For a sight of you and father
And my home beside the river—
All the vines above the door-way,
All the flowers in the garden—
Looking back I now am weeping
In my hut on Ragged Mountain.

"Follows here the gloomy shadow
From our mansion by the river,
And the angry words of father
In my ears are ever ringing—
Still I see your sorrow, Mother,
On the day my heart was broken
By the angry words of father,
'Never shall you wed this beggar.'
Mother! Mother! Have you missed me?

Then in answer came a whisper,
From the darkness came a whisper,
Moving like a darker shadow,
Like a gloomy thought of sorrow
In the blackness of the night-time,
Making all the world seem hopeless,
Speaking sadly in the darkness
"Lo! I'm dead and long departed
To the land beyond the sunset."

36. FEEBLE GREW HER AGED FOOTSTEPS.

Tis ever thus when hope is gone,
Feeble grow the lagging foot-steps
And slow the hands that carry on,
Waiting for the final shadow.

Only then her footsteps faltered,
Only then she seemed discouraged,
Still she labored for her children,
Cooking woodchuck in the cabin,
Boiling squirrels in the kettle,
And the fearless woodland pussy,
Broiled above the glowing embers,
Browned and ready for their supper;
Pounded corn in ancient mortar,
In the cabin in the forest,
Caring for the many children,
Indian children of the Light House,
Tokens of her father's anger
And her own unyielding answer.

Feeble grew her aged footsteps,
Toiling there beside the river.
Gone her youth and all her beauty,
Gone her joyous smiles and laughter,
Snowy white her tangled tresses.
Now her thoughts kept turning backward
To the distant days of childhood,
To the happy days with mother.

Clearly still she thought of father,
Say her children's children's children,
And his bitter words of anger,
Giving her no word of kindness,
When she humbly sought his blessing,
On the union she had chosen,
Yet her spirit lived unbroken,
But the weary years were many,
Saddened by the bitter quarrel,
"But" she whispered very slowly,
'Though the years again roll backward,
Filling life with youth and beauty,
Bringing crowds of wealth suitors,
Never would I wed for money,
Where my heart refused to follow."
"Better toil through life in freedom
Than be bought by suitor's money
Like a lowly slave at auction."

37. GRANNY CHAVCHAM'S DAYS WERE OVER.

When autumn lay on vale and hill,
Sadness came into the cabin
Where Granny Chaugham lay so still,
For her troubled life was ended.