The Bay State Monthly. Volume 2, No. 6, March, 1885

Gold has faithfully performed for the last forty-two years, and, in view of its abundance and prospective increase, will continue to support its role of a fixed standard of value, and a firm basis for the bank-note circulation of the principal countries of the civilized world, which is evidently growing gradually metallic, as a comparative statement of the amount of bank-note circulation issued, and the amount of specie held by the Bank of England, the joint stock banks, and the private banks of Great Britain the Bank of France, the State banks, and the National banks of the United States, at different periods, will exhibit:

Gold has robbed silver of the prestige claimed for it two centuries ago by Locke,—"that it is the instrument and measure of commerce in all the civilized and trading parts of the world, and its normal currency." Gold has maintained its present price for one hundred and sixty years, while silver has declined twenty-two per cent. within thirteen. When, owing to scarcity, gold advances in price, then we may fear, that, what the late Mr. Bagehot use to call the "apprehension point," is close at our heels. The amount of gold in existence has increased from $1,975,000,000 in 1843 to $8,166,000,000 at the present time; while silver, owing to the great attrition of coin (estimated by Bowen at one per cent. per annum), has increased from $5,040,000,000 to but $5,504,000,000, during the same period. Of the two hundred and twelve millions of dollars of the precious metals annually produced, ninety-eight millions are furnished by gold.

My Mountain Home

By William C. Sturoc

 
Down in the valleys, where the grasses grow,
And waves the gold-rod and the meadow queen;
Where peaceful streamlets, with a languid flow,
Are calmly shimmering in the noonday sheen—
There may be peace, and plenty too, I ween;
But on the mountain's elephantine height,
Where thunder-drums are beat on bassy key,
And lightning-flashes glisten through the night;
And forests groan with storm-chang'd melody,
There let my home, 'mid lofty nature be—
That, near the stars, and near the sun and moon,
My eyes may gaze upon the book of space,
And learn the lyrics that are sung in tune
As rolling orbs their constant journeys trace.
 

General Knefler to General Wallace:

INDIANAPOLIS, February 19, 1868.

GENERAL. Upon reading the "Life of Grant," by Colonel Badeau, I was much surprised to see his version of your conduct on the first day of the battle of Shiloh. As I was present with your command on that day, as Assistant Adjutant General of Division, I desire to make the following statement of facts, as I can remember them at this time:

The position of your division, on the morning of the sixth of April, 1862, was as follows: Headquarters of the division and camp of the First Brigade at Crump's Landing; Second Brigade, two and a half miles from Crump's Landing, on the Purdy road, at a place, if I remember right, called Stony Lonesome; Third Brigade, two and a half miles from the camp of the Second Brigade, at Adamsville, on the Purdy road, and five miles from Headquarters of division at Crump's Landing.

When the cannonading was first heard on Sunday morning 'you issued orders' at once, for the concentration of the division at camp of the Second Brigade, at Stony Lonesome. The baggage, camp and garrison equipage was ordered to Crump's Landing, and detachments were made for its protection. "These orders were given before you heard from Headquarters."

About 9 o'clock General Grant passed up on the Tigris and in passing the boat upon which were your Headquarters, had a conversation with you. I did not hear what was said, but you immediately mounted, and accompanied by your staff rode rapidly to the camp of the Second Brigade. It was, perhaps, two hours before any order arrived. I know you were anxiously looking for orders, and finally despatched one of your aids to ride to the landing to ascertain if any one had arrived with orders, and conduct him to you. Shortly after that,—it must have been 12 o'clock, M., Captain Baxter, A.Q.M., arrived with orders, and brought the very cheering intelligence that our army was successful. I cannot tell at this time what the particular language was. The order was placed in my hands as Assistant Adjutant General, but where it is now, or what became of it, I am unable to say; very likely, having been written on a scrap of paper, it was lost after coming into my hands; a matter which I much regret, as I feel confident that its production now would conclusively demonstrate that you obeyed the command contained in it. I remember, however, distinctly, that it was a written order to march and form a junction with the right of the army, which was understood to be the right of the army as it rested on the morning when the battle began. Suffice it to say, that the division marched at once, and took the road which had been previously ascertained as leading to the right of the army, in the position it occupied on the morning of the sixth, and previous to that time. The road was then patrolled and picketted by cavalry detachments of your command. By your permission, I was marching with the advance guard, comprised of several companies of the Twenty-fourth Indiana Volunteers, Lieutenant Colonel Berber, commanding. We marched very rapidly, and to judge from the sound of the battle, we were approaching it fast. The advanced guard had reached the crossing of Snake Creek, near a mill, or some large building, where a bridge had been constructed, and from that point we could see the smoke overhanging the battle-field and distinctly hear the musketry, when an order was received, to retrace our steps, and work our way to the head of the column. We marched back at once, almost to our starting place, where we found the column was marching through the woods where there was no road (not even a trail appeared) to save time and distance. The troops were marching very fast, and I did not come up with you for perhaps two hours after the advance guard received orders to countermarch.

When the column was put in motion on the river road, which must have been after 4 o'clock, we were met by some staff officers of General Grant, Major Rawlins and Colonel McPherson, and another officer whom I did not know. They had some conversation with you, and then, for the first time I learned that our troops had been repulsed, and that we were then marching to join the right of the army, in its new position, at Pittsburg Landing. After some hard marching over execrable roads we reached our position about dusk.

The road the division first marched on led directly to the right of the army in its position as stated above, and we would have joined it, had it not been repulsed, before 3 o'clock P.M.

Having conversed with many of the division who were present on that day, it is the general impression that we marched between fifteen and eighteen miles. Now, considering that we had troops not inured to hard marching, some of them on their first march, the condition of the roads, almost impassible, and part of that distance through woods, without any road, at all, it certainly ought not to be intimated that you did not do your whole duty in endeavoring to reach the field.

I am General, very respectfully, Your obedient servant,

FRED KNEFLER.

Late Colonel Seventy-ninth Regiment Indiana Volunteers.

Reuben Tracy's Vacation Trips

By Elizabeth Porter Gould

II

"O mamma, did'nt we have a good time at the Isles of Shoals last summer?" said Reuben Tracy to his mother one evening last July as they sat together on their piazza. "Did'nt the boys stare though when I told them all about it in our geography class. Ned Bolton said that I knew more about it than the geography did; and afterwards he asked me if I had ever seen a mountain. How I wish I could see one and climb to the very top of it. Oh my, would'nt I look!"

And the boy's eyes looked as though they would look to the satisfaction of the most devoted teacher.

"Well," my boy, replied Mrs. Tracy as she drew him nearer to her in loving admiration of such enthusiasm, "only yesterday I received a letter from your uncle in Northampton urging me to take you and come to make him a visit, and I thought then what a good opportunity it would be for you to see your first mountain. Now do you know what one I mean?"

"Oh yes," answered Reuben; "but you mean two, do'nt you? Mount Tom and Mount Holyoke. I learned that in my geography. I can see it now in my book where it says that Mount Tom is twelve hundred feet high, and Mount Holyoke one thousand feet high." But Bob Phelps said that there were lots of Rattlesnakes on Mount Tom, so I should not dare to go there—but then—"

"Visitors don't go on Mount Tom proper, as there is no accomodation for them," interrupted Mrs. Tracy, "but on Mount Holyoke there is the Prospect House, which your uncle said last summer was a very well-kept house. Why, it is thirty-five years ago that I was on top of that mountain, when, as a young girl, just a little older than you, I went with my father and mother. A Mr. French had just taken the house. I wonder if he is there now. He seemed determined then to do what he could for the place. I can hear him now telling my father that a spot which had been such a favorite one for over two hundred years must have some superior claim upon the people of his day. I really would love to go there again. It is one of those places which once seen is never forgotten, and then I could'nt choose a better spot for your introduction to a lovely mountain view. But, my child, it is getting late and time for you to go to bed. Run along and I will write to your uncle to-night and accept his cordial invitation."

"And tell him" added Reuben, "that I wish every boy in this world had such a boss mother as I have. Ned Bolton says so, too;" with which unique expression of love and gratitude he kissed his mother "Good night" and went off to bed to dream of, well, what do you think? Of rattle-snakes, of mountains, or even of geography? Oh, no! only nothing, for he was a healthy boy who said he couldn't spare the time to dream.

After he had gone Mrs. Tracy sat alone for a while, thinking over this early visit of hers, with all the precious memories which it suggested of her own father and mother, now dead and gone. Then she thought over the past year's intimate life which she had enjoyed with her boy, and became more and more thankful that she had been enabled thus to get up out of her selfish grief of the summer before—when death took her other children from her—and empty her own life into the larger channel of life around her. She was pleased to think of the good fruits that had arisen from her plans for her boy's vacation trips, not only upon him but upon other mothers who had been led to follow her example. She thought of the Christmas week she had spent with him in Boston, where they had enjoyed so many interesting historical sights. And in the few weeks of the vacation which was now passing, it pleased her to recall the delightful days which they had spent at Concord and at Plymouth. And now, in this evening reverie, she smiled as she thought of her boy's telling his geography class all about the Isles of Shoals. How she would loved to have heard him—her fair-haired, blue-eyed boy, talking with all the intensity of his nature of what he had seen. Ah! life had left much to her yet; and she determined anew that Reuben should never want for any of her sympathetic help, either in his sports or in his growing student life. With this renewed determination she went into the house to write her letter to her brother at Northampton.

She was just finishing it when her husband came in from his weekly meeting with the city fathers. She told him all her plan, which he heartily endorsed, and practically helped by taking out his purse and giving her a generous sum of money for the trip, saying, "I wish, my dear, that I could go too, but I cannot leave my business this season of the year. But I am only too glad that I can make money enough for you and Reuben to go. I know of no better way to invest it for the future of our boy, God bless him!

"Ah!" replied Mrs. Tracy, her face all aglow with the joy of having her own thought so fully met, "would that more fathers thought so! but while some think only of a bank account, and the great majority think nothing of any account at all, only the few know the need of a child's mind digesting money, so to speak, as it goes along."

In a few days the arrangements were completed and Mrs. Tracy and her son left their home in Salem for Northampton. Reuben quietly enjoyed the scenery all the way from Boston to Springfield. In the forty minutes' ride from Springfield to Northampton Mrs. Tracy had a delightful opportunity, which she well used, to show her boy the winding course of a river,—the beautiful Connecticut—as they followed it first on one side and then on the other. When Reuben spied the house on Mount Holyoke he realized then that he saw his first mountain. On making inquiries about the mountain with a house on it, on the other side of the river, the conductor told him that that was Mount Nonotuck, a peak of the Mount Tom range, which was nine hundred and fifty feet high. He also told him that Nonotuck was the old Indian name for Northampton, which was just then coming in sight.

On arriving at the station uncle Edward met them with his carriage to convey them to his home on Round Hill. On their way there they passed the fine building of Smith College, which particularly pleased Mrs. Tracy and caused her to say, partly to herself, "Happy, happy girls to have such privileges of college life." "What," said Reuben, "girls go to college like boys? how funny!" When, after a moment or two of seeming abstraction, he said: "That is what papa meant the other day when he said that girls were as good as boys and could learn just as well as they could, is'nt it?" But before Mrs. Tracy could answer him they had arrived at their destination.

The next day they took a drive around the town, or rather the city, since a short time before it had become such. Its wealth of trees was a source of joy to them.

When they were crossing Mill River, on the old covered bridge on South street, uncle Edward stopped and told them that this was the only bridge on the river which was saved from the awful catastrophe of the bursting of the reservoir at Williamsburg, ten miles from there. When they drove off the bridge he told Reuben to notice the river as it flowed so peacefully along, in apparent forgetfulness of its dreadful havoc of ten years ago when about one hundred and fifty lives were lost, and factories, houses, and churches were swept along, as so many leaves, by the rushing torrent. He told, among other facts, how a cousin of his was seated at the breakfast-table with his whole family—a wife, two sons, and a daughter—when they were swept up by the waters, house and all, and all drowned. And while he was telling these incidents, which were so much to him, he made them more effective by driving up some little distance through the district which had been devastated. Thus Reuben learned of a peculiar tragedy, in a manner which no reading in itself could so well have taught him.

They spent a day or two more in looking around the different public institutions, the Clarke Institute for the Deaf, on Round Hill, giving them the most interest. But in spite of these attractions, Mrs. Tracy's keen mother-eye noticed that Reuben was getting a little impatient to climb a mountain, that mountain "with the tunnel" as he expressed it. So she decided to go there the first pleasant day; and as it was now the time of full moon she proposed to remain upon the mountain all night, much to Reuben's delight.

The next day proved to be pleasant, so they in company with Uncle Edward and his wife started for Mount Holyoke, a distance of three miles. A short drive brought them to the Hokanum ferry where they were to cross the Connecticut. As they drove upon what seemed to Reuben a wharf, he, accustomed only to the Boston ferry-boats, remarked that the boat was not in yet. And it was not until a moment later when he found himself moving away from the land that he discovered that he was on the boat itself! The way in which they were being borne across the river by man's use of the pulley and wire was a great novelty to the boy and could only suggest to his mother the most primitive days.

It took them five minutes to cross—about eighty-five rods—after which a short drive through a pretty country took them to the foot of the mountain. Then following a good carriage-road they were soon at the half-way house where Reuben at last found the "tunnel" which had given him so much wonder.

After examining the stationary engine at the foot of the inclined plane, in this wooden enclosure which Reuben had called the tunnel, they seated themselves in the car and in two and a quarter minutes were landed at the top, 600 feet higher.

Mrs. Tracy on going up felt a little fear which was overcome when her brother informed her that Mr. French was always at the top with his watchful eye.

"Yes, that is so," said a voice as they stepped out of the car, and Mrs. Tracy was introduced to the same Mr. French who was so much in earnest years ago when she visited the place to make it a success.

They talked over the intervening years, Mr. French telling her of his improvements, how the first railroad was built in 1854, and the present track was laid in 1867, and how more than half a million people had been up over it.

He showed her a picture of the first house built there in 1821, then of the one rebuilt in 1851, which was gradually enlarged, until it became the present size in 1861, ten years later.

She was particularly interested to hear him tell of the famous people who had visited the place, so much so, that he brought out for inspection some of the autograph books which filled a long shelf. He said that there were names recorded as far back as 1824. As they looked them over they saw at the date of August 12, 1847, in bold handwriting, "Charles Summer," with the testimony that the view from Mount Holyoke was "surpassingly lovely."

At the sight of the clearly written name "Jenny Lind, Sweden," at the date of July 7, 1851, Reuben exclaimed—"Oh, she was that big singer; mamma showed me the house on Round Hill where she lived and was married."

That he should remember this fact pleased Mrs. Tracy while his boyish enthusiasm led Mr. French to tell a pleasant little reminiscence of her visit there which was heartily enjoyed by them all. And that others may have the pleasure of hearing it from him on his own premises I will not repeat it here.

After a little further talk on the history of the place, in which Reuben learned that it was named Holyoke in 1654 in honor of Captain Elizur Holyoke, they began to enjoy the lovely pictures all around them.

It was fortunate for them that a heavy wind of the night before had taken away the clouds which had for a time hidden the mountains farthest off. Hence they were now able to see distinctly the Green Mountains in Vermont, Wachusett and Greylock in Massachusetts, and Monadnock in New Hampshire.

As they spoke of the many little villages which gave the human interest to the scene, Mr. French said that they could see from there thirty-two towns in Massachusetts and eight in Connecticut.

He adjusted the telescope so that they could easily tell the time on the clock at Smith College. He adjusted it again and they saw the Amherst College buildings. Another adjustment revealed Mount Holyoke Seminary at South Hadley; and in this way they saw the Armory at Springfield, the Insane asylum at Northampton, and other well-known buildings.

A sight of the unique Front street in Old Hadley with its four rows of fine old shade trees led Uncle Edward to promise his guests a drive through it before they should return to Salem.

The fine combination of meadow, river, hills and towns, as pictured through a colored reflecting glass, was a delight indeed.

In one of the views, Reuben spied an island striped with cultivated fields which Mr. French said was called Ox Bow; he pointed out another called Shepard's island, which, with Ox Bow, added much to the scenery.

The winding river suggested to Mrs. Tracy how much nature loved a curve. While Uncle Edward, who had visited the chief mountains in this land and in Europe, said that he always came back to this mountain view as the loveliest and the most restful of them all, although it was not the grandest or the most awe inspiring.

So the day passed on Mount Holyoke, giving them at every moment living pictures which no painter could equal. When the sun went down the moon came up to give her light, and nature reveled in her beauty.

The only painful shadow for Mrs. Tracy was when she felt sad that more of earth's troubled ones did not or could not come to drink in such peace and rest.

But such days must come to an end. And what can follow more delightful than a refreshing sleep on such a height. This they all had and were ready the next morning to return to Northampton.

As Reuben was anxious to count the steps which, on ascending the day before, he had noticed on the side of the inclined plane; he went down that way, while the rest of the party availed themselves of the car. He, boy-like, did not mind the extra labor and longer time which that choice involved, so long as he found out that there were five hundred and twenty-two steps.

As they descended the mountain from the half-way house Reuben gathered for a souvenir some of the beautiful laurel which, in full-bloom, was then adorning its sides.

A few days later after the promised ride to Old Hadley, three miles distant, which was extended four miles to Amherst to give Reuben a sight of the college where his papa graduated, Mrs. Tracy and her son returned to Salem. Mr. Tracy was highly entertained with Reuben's account of what he had seen, and felt more than ever that his money had been well invested. The rest of the vacation soon passed, the boy's active mind being profitably engaged in the interim of active, healthful sports.

And it is highly probable that by this time the geography class, with Ned Bolton as spokesman, has discovered that "Reuben Tracy knows more about a mountain than the geography itself!"