Contributions of the Old Residents' Historical Association, Lowell, Mass: Organized December 21, 1868, Volume 6

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The Association, 1904 - Lowell (Mass.)
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Page 419 - ... in beauty behind his lonely dwelling, in the sacred orb that flamed on him from his mid^day throne ; in the flower that snapped in the morning breeze, in the lofty pine, that defied a thousand whirlwinds...
Page 418 - Not many generations ago, where you now sit encircled with all that exalts and embellishes civilized life, the rank thistle nodded in the wind and the wild fox dug his hole unscared Here lived and loved another race of beings.
Page 419 - Their council-fire has long since gone out on the shore, and their war-cry is fast dying to the untrodden west. Slowly and sadly they climb the distant mountains, and read their doom in the setting sun.
Page 419 - Slowly and sadly they climb the distant mountains, and read their doom in the setting sun. They are shrinking before the mighty tide which is pressing them away ; they must soon hear the roar of the last wave, which will settle over them for ever.
Page 418 - Here, too, they worshiped ; and from many a dark bosom went up a fervent prayer to the Great Spirit He had not written His laws for them on tables of stone, but He had traced them on the tables of their hearts.
Page 419 - And all this has passed away. Across the ocean came a pilgrim bark, bearing the seeds of life and death. The former were sown for you; the latter sprang up in the path of the simple native.
Page 70 - ... the rest, provision for which was mostly presented by the guests themselves, or sent in by other generous promoters of the exhibition, as were also the materials for the work. Near the close of the day, Mrs. Deane was presented by the company with two hundred and thirty-six seven knotted skeins of excellent cotton and linen yarn, the work of the day, excepting about a dozen skeins which some of the company brought in ready spun. Some had spun six, and many not less than five skeins apiece. To...
Page 400 - My life is like the prints which feet Have left on Tampa's desert strand; Soon as the rising tide shall beat, All trace will vanish from the sand; Yet, as if grieving to efface All vestige of the human race, On that lone shore loud moans the sea — But none, alas! shall mourn for me!
Page 66 - T. Jackson, Kirk Boott, Warren Dutton, Paul Moody, John W. Boott, and myself. We perambulated the grounds, and scanned the capabilities of the place, and the remark was made that some of us might live to see the place contain twenty thousand inhabitants.
Page 420 - Ages hence, the inquisitive white man, as he stands by some growing city, will ponder on the structure of their disturbed remains, and wonder to what manner of persons they belonged. They will live only in the songs and chronicles of their exterminators. Let these be faithful to their rude virtues as men, and pay due tribute to their unhappy fate as a people.

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