Many fishing in the river,
Seeking food for hungry children.
Many hunting in the forest,
Many making bows and arrows
For the hunting of the squirrel
And the lovely wood-land pussy.
Walking bravely through the forest,
That the village may not suffer,
That the food may be sufficient.
28. TRAIL-LIKE ROAD FOR WHITE MAN TRAVEL.
The trail 'became a winding road,
Leading past the Indian village,
For man and beast with heavy load
Toiling through the gloomy forest.
In the year of seventeen hundred
Seventy-two was built a road-way,
First of all the winding road-ways,
Past the cabins on the hill-side,
Trail-like road for white man travel.
Nailed across the cabin windows
Were the skins of coons and foxes,
Hides of catamounts and beaver.
Through these shaggy window curtains,
Where small holes were burned for day-light,
Dimly lighting up the cabins,
Nightly shone the crackling fire-light
From the wood-fire in the fire-place,
Cheerful signs of habitation
To belated trav'lers toiling
On the road beside the river
'Neath old Ragged Mountain's shadow,
Thus the trav'lers tell the story
In their books about the Light House.
29. THERE'S A LIGHT HOUSE IN BAKKHAMSTED
And when the stage came through the night,
Past the lonely Indian cabins,
The driver, seeing rays of light,
Shouted gladly, "There's the Light House!
More and more the white man traveled,
So the road-way by the river
Was improved for stage coach service
In the year of sev'nteen hundred-
Eight and ninety—turnpike road-way
Past the lonely Light House Village,
Turnpike road-way for the coaches,
Albany and Hartford coaches,
Coaches on the Greenwoods Turnpike,
Turnpike by the Tunxis River.