An elegant edifice stands now on the site of the little church of the first settler; but the burying-yard behind it remains unchanged, and there on a broad slab may still be traced, a long obituary of John Brown, the earliest settler, and by his side sleeps the first pastor of that ancient church, of whom it is recorded, that he labored for a number of years as a faithful missionary among the Mohawks, by whom he was taken captive; and, afterward, for nearly forty years, as the minister of the first church of Christ in the wilderness. By his side, sleeps Anna, his wife—and children, and children’s children are around in long ranks, with the slumber of years upon them.
Reader! My story is brought to a close. It but feebly illustrates the chance and change of life—but if it serve to awaken a more earnest interest in those who have gone before us, its author will not have spent those few pleasant hours amid the records of the past in vain. Life is not all with us! Those who trod the paths we are now treading, knew as much of its joys and sorrows—perchance even more than ourselves, and would we search more deeply the annals of our forefathers, our toil would often be rewarded with histories as full of vicissitude and adventure, as that of the illustrious Judge Temple, or the Vaudois peasant-boy of the Alps!
ERNESTINA.
(OR THE GILIA TRICOLOR.)
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BY ERNESTINE FITZGERALD.
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Thus have ye named this modest flower,
Bright Gilia—of colors three: