[Sonnet 93.] As an old medal had on it for a device a bullock standing between a plough and an altar, with the inscription, Ready for Either, the device was thought very appropriate to express the disposition of the true Christian missionary, ready for toil and ready also to be a sacrifice, if called to die in his master's service, "not holding his life dear unto himself."
[Sonnet 96.] Sickness prevented me from visiting my nephew and meeting with his guests on an interesting occasion. The old house, the home of my childhood and my dwelling for seven years of my ministry,—the house built by my father, the first minister of Pittsfield, in the wilderness,—was superseded by an elegant mansion, built by his grandson bearing his own name, Thomas Allen. The event was commemorated by a select and happy company of aged men.
[Sonnet 98.] I first visited Niagara Falls 56 years ago. Having just been licensed by the ministers of Berkshire county to preach the gospel, I mounted my horse in Aug. 1804 and rode out more than 400 miles through the western wilderness of New York as far as Lake Erie and Niagara river, preaching in various places to little assemblies in log cabins. Buffalo, now a great city, was then a village of 19 houses. Three miles below there was the ferry at Black Rock; and there I saw the famous Indian chief, Red Jacket, attending his little grand-daughter as from a rock she threw her hook into the great stream. Thence I rode down on the Canada side 15 miles to the wondrous Falls.
Besides the lesson of solemn warning and terror another of a character acceptable and gladdening was offered to my thoughts, as I stood on the river's bank at the Falls; for I beheld a rainbow of a full semi-circle or more, the ends almost under my feet, stretching over the awful chasm, deepest in color low down at each extremity, where the turmoil of mist was the thickest. This lesson I here put in rhyme, and with it, in accordance with the sentiment of the hundredth sonnet which a few days ago passed through the press, I now close this little book.
If the reader will consider, that my threatening illness has now had a continuance of many months and that to-day closes seventy-six years of my life, he will find reason to conclude, that my thoughts here expressed, although in verse, are utterances in the sincerity of faith and the honesty of truth: and so I bid him farewell, wishing him "a happy New Year" and a blessed Eternity!
Jan. 1, 1860.
NEW YEAR'S DAY, 1860.
I praise thee, God of love! for this Day's light,
Which leads the train of days in this new year,—
For months not seeming destin'd to me here,