Friday, February 21, 2014

"To the memory of a Lady" (1789)

                To the memory of a LADY.

SHE sleeps in peace, on death's cold lap reclin'd,

        Who once could beauty boast, and polish'd grace,

In whom that truth and sweetness were combin'd,

        By which divine in human forms we trace.

If it be true, that those belov'd of Heav'n

        Bear of affliction's grief the heavier load,

Her soul, ah sure ! enjoys the promise giv'n,

        And rests with angels high enthron'd with God.

For woe, succeeding woe, a grievous train,

        She bore with firm, serene and patient mind;

In her own bosom buried all her pain,

        Upheld by faith, nor once at fate repin'd.

Pleas'd nature smil'd, Heav'n rais'd her portals high,

        Whilst saints in strains seraphic loudly cry'd

'Haste to thy blest abode above the sky,'

        She droop'd her pious head, conform'd & dy'd.

The Federal Herald [Lansingburgh, NY]. June 1, 1789.

The poem was reprinted, with slight alterations, in the American Museum, or, Universal Magazine in July 1791 as "Verses on miss Honoria Leamy, sister of Join Leamy, esq. who departed this life July 14, 1791."

"Honoria Leamy, died July 14, 1791; age, 38 years and 9 months" had been recorded as being buried in Section J, Vault 25 of St. Mary's Graveyard, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

"Some new features have been introduced into this volume, which, it is hoped, will meet with approval. As nothing conveys an idea so well as a picture, we have endeavored to illustrate historical events by half-tone cuts, where such could be well introduced, and where we could command a good photograph to copy from. We have also given portraits of the first and the second Presidents of the Society.

"An important innovation is the photogravure of St. Mary's graveyard, Philadelphia. It is to be hoped that its appearance will induce persons, in a position to do so, to make drawings of all old graveyards throughout the country. [...]

"The American Catholic Historical Society considers the preservation of the records and inscriptions of Catholic graveyards throughout America of vast importance. Therefore it intends to gather such records and inscriptions before the ravages of time make the work impossible.

"The list of inscriptions and the photographure, which are here presented to the public, show the nature of the work which the Society expects to accomplish. It has been able to make this good beginning through the generosity of Mr. John J. Maitland, a member of the Society, who very kindly had the survey made and the inscriptions copied.

"The Society could not well have chosen a more fitting spot to begin the work with, for St. Mary's graveyard is one of the oldest Catholic graveyards in the country, and, therefore, most closely connected with early American Catholic history. [...]

"Owing to the ravages of time many tombstones and consequently many records of death in this old graveyard are lost. Recently, whilst the gravel walk was being repaved a broken stone was unearthed [...] The sexton of St. Mary's Church says that there are many vaults under this gravel walk. [...]

"Every effort has been made to give the extracts from the records and inscriptions of St. Mary's graveyard, which appear in the foregoing pages, correctly. It must be born in mind, however, that inscriptions on very old tombstones, owing to their indistinctness, will permit of various readings by different persons.

"Many stones in St. Mary's graveyard are so deeply sunken that the inscriptions upon them could only have been read after digging them up. This, of course, it was impracticable to do."

"St. Mary's Graveyard, Fourth and Spruce Streets, Philadelphia; Records and Extracts from Inscriptions on Tombstones." Records of the American Catholic Historical Society of Philadelphia. Vol. 3. 1891. 6, 253, 271.

Fourth and Spruce seems to have been the address of the church, not the cemetery. Whatever the case, the cemetery is no longer where it was.

"By 1910, the cemetery was neglected and a fire (date unknown) destroyed the cemetery records. The bodies in Saint Mary's were re-interred at Holy Cross Cemetery in Yeadon, Delaware County, PA in a mass grave."

"Saint Mary's Cemetery (Defunct)" Find A Grave.

"On seeing a Moth flutter round a candle" (1789)

On seeing a Moth flutter round a candle

By a young Lady in love.

UNHAPPY moth, I pity thee,

In thy fate my own I see;

Both fly to what we should avoid,

To that by which we're both destroy'd.

Both after radiant brightness run,

Both by that brightness are undone,

Both seek what burns, approach'd too nigh,

Both love the name by which we die.

The Federal Herald [Lansingburgh, NY]. July 13, 1789.

Thursday, February 20, 2014

"The Carrier's Address to His Customers" (1790)


WHAT shall we say, or how begin,

The present time to usher in;

Make something clever to appear,

To please your taste on this new year.

Shall we rehearse, in broken rhyme,

Tell of a state sunk in delusion,

While others rear'd the constitution;

Or panegeric chant upon

"Our patriot, hero, WASHINGTON."

We have their actions to be sung

By bards unborn and lyres unstrung;

These shall, in true poetic lays,

The glorious constitution praise,

Witness, in ages yet to come,

What heroes, patriots now have done.

In our own proper sphere we'll place us,

Nor soar so high upon Parnassus,

But stick to our own dull Pegasus.

Past pains remember'd make life sweeter,

These we'll rehearse in hobbling metre,

While telling what we've labor'd under,

To serve you thro' rain, hail and thunder;—

In summer thus, thro' mud in fall,

And winter now proves worse than all.

While thus thro each extreme we go,

Or pant with heat, or fingers blow,

Since diligent we've brought you NEWS,

Yourselves and all your friends t' amuse,

Your approbation give,--and spare

Some small reward on this New Year---

We'll drink your healths, go singing home,

And wish you happy years to come.

        January 1, 1790.

Federal Herald [Lansingburgh, NY]. January 4, 1790

"Will Sing So That Children May Get Fresh Air" (1923)

        The members of the Troy Vocal Society will have an outing tomorrow at Luther's White Sulphur Springs Hotel on Saratoga Lake. A short rehearsal will take place at 10:30 a.m. at the regular rehearsal rooms, the Troy Y.W.C.A., and the party will leave for Saratoga Springs promptly at 11 o'clock. In the afternoon a program of sports will be enjoyed and at 8:30 p.m. the society will give a concert int he hotel for the benefit of The Troy Times Fresh Air Fund, thus resuming a practice followed until the war. The program follows:

"My Homeland".....Specks


Troy Vocal Society.

Contralto solo

Mrs. Thomas F. Luther.


"John Peel".....Old English

Troy Vocal Society.


Mrs. Thomas F. Luther.


"Land Sighting".....Grieg

(Incidental solo by Theron L. Reynolds.)

Troy Vocal Society.

        William L. Glover will be the director and H. Townsend Heister accompanist.

        The following verses on the program explain the object of the concert:

We are singing tonight, everyone,

        In Charity's gentle employ;

For we wish by our music to help

        The destitute children of Troy.

The children who go to the hills

        With the Fresh Air Fund of the Troy Times;

'T is the thought of their gladness that fills

        All our melodies, all of our rhymes.

Who can tell of the good done each year

        To these hundreds by fortnights of health?

A gift to these little ones made

        Increases the giver's own wealth.

If you like us, then make your return

        In the way that sweet Charity bids;

For we are not kidding when we

        Ask you to help us help the kids.

"Will Sing So That Children May Get Fresh Air; Vocal Society Annual Outing at Saratoga Lake Tomorrow." Troy Times. June 22, 1923: 5 col 5.

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

"The Cane of Abraham Lincoln in the Troy Police Court—An Interesting History" (1880)

"When the body of Abraham Lincoln was removed from the box in Ford's opera house, Washington, in which he was assassinated on the night of April 14, 1865, his cane was left behind. An actor attached to the theatre laid hands upon the relic, and for a year or two retained it in his possession. During a debauch the cane was pawned, and came into the custody of a Frenchman who was the proprietor of a restaurant in Baltimore. The possessor of the memorial removed to this city some time ago, and now lives at the corner of Federal and North Fourth streets. Robert T. Lincoln of Chicago, son of the ex-president, learning the whereabout of the cane, instituted measures for its recovery, and this morning the service of a search warrant by Chief Detective Markham secured the transfer of the object to the hands of that official, and in police court this afternoon it will be awarded to its rightful owner. The cane is an ebony stick with a silver head, upon which is engraved the inscription 'A. Lincoln.'"

"The Cane of Abraham Lincoln in the Troy Police Court—An Interesting History." Troy Times. January 22, 1880: 3.

"TROY, N.Y., Jan. 21.—Chief Detective Markham recovered this morning from Stephen Mayhue, a butcher, doing business at North Fourth and Federal streets, an ebony cane, with a silver head, bearing the inscription 'A. Lincoln.' The cane was taken by Mr. Lincoln to the private box at Ford's Theatre, in Washington, on the night of his assassination. In the excitement occasioned by the shooting of Lincoln the cane was forgotten. Mayhue says he bought it from one of the members of the theatrical company that was playing in the theatre on the night of the assassination. The actor came into Mayhue's place in Baltimore, and, while undetr the influence of liquor, sold it. Mayhue says he paid a good price for it. The case was called in the Police Court this afternoon, but the prosecution was not ready, and an adjournment for two weeks was granted. Robert T. Lincoln, son of the dead President, will claim the cane when the proceedings are taken up. He and a friend have been in correspondence for some time in reference to the subject, and there is no doubt that the cane really belonged to Mr. Lincoln."

"President Lincoln's Cane Found." N.Y. Times. January 22, 1880.

"[Troy Evening Standard.]

"Many years ago, when President Lincoln was a poor lawyer in Springfield, Ill., he carried about with him a plain ebony cane, with a silver ferrule marked 'A. Lincoln.' The cane may have cost $5. When Lincoln found himself in Washington he still carried the old ebony, being loath to part with his old friend. One day a delegation of friends waited upon and presented him with an elegant modern cane with an elaborately engraved gold handle. He accepted the gift more to accommodate his friends than to please himself. The old cane was given to a trusty valet who often frequently a prominent restaurant in Washington, where nightly assembled many professional men, actors, lawyers and musicians. Among the number was A. R. Phelps, the first manager of the Grand Central Theatre. hard pushed for money the valet pawned the cane with the proprietor of the restaurant and from the latter it passed into the hands of Phelps. In his vocation as a theatrical manager and actor Phelps struck Troy some three or four years ago and assumed the management of the Grand Central Theatre for Thomas Miller, the proprietor. Finally adversity overtook him. Misfortune fell heavily upon him and he with his wife and six children was left in the direst distress and he pawned the cane to a down-town citizen for $25. He then left town and has not since been seen here.

"Robert T. Lincoln, son of the dead President, learning that the cane was in this city, corresponded with Chief Markham with a view of obtaining possession of it. Yesterday morning Markham received track of its whereabouts and served a search warrant upon the proprietor of a meat market at the corner of Federal and North Fourth streets. There the cane was recovered in Police Court yesterday afternoon before Justice Donohue the matter of the disposition of the cane was taken up and postponed for two weeks. It is supposed Phelps gave the cane as security for meat consumed by his family."

"Lincoln's Cane: The Story of Its Wanderings and Its Recovering In Troy." N.Y. World. January 23, 1880: 5 cols 4-5.

Frederick Douglas was given one of Lincoln’s canes by his widow in 1865, now at the Frederick Douglass National Historic Site; Dr. Joseph Parrish Thompson gave a cane reported to have been Lincoln’s to the New-York Historical Society in 1879; another cane alleged to be Lincoln’s sold at auction in 1903; William H. Lambert was reported to have one in 1914; another was reported on in 1929.

"Dr. Thompson’s Will; Many Bequests to Friends and Relatives—Abraham Lincoln’s Cane.” N.Y. Times. November 21, 1879: 3 col 3.

“Fate of Lincoln’s Cane; War President’s Cherished Walking Stick Sold at Auction for $145.” Madison County Times [Chittenango, NY]. December 4, 1903: 1 col 8.

“Lincoln Relics on Exhibition; Collection Made by Major Lambert Said to Be Best Anywhere; Many Personal Trinkets; Sleeve Button, Inkstand and Cane Used by Martyr Included in Display.” Brooklyn Daily Eagle. January 6, 1914: 7 col 4.

“Buys Cane Lincoln Had When Slain; New Orleans Man Obtains Stick Carried by President on Fatal Night in Ford’s Theatre.” N.Y. Evening Post. November 20, 1929: 7 cols 6-8.

Lincoln poems by Trojans or in Troy newspapers:

"Abraham Lincoln" by James S. Thorn (1865)

"A Dirge on the Death of Abraham Lincoln" by Josiah L. Young (1865)

"The Death Of President Lincoln" by Mrs. E. Van Santvoord (1865)

"In Memoriam A. L.” by Benjamin Homer Hall (1865)

“Sic Semper Tyrannis” Edward Hewes Gordon Clark (1865)

"A Dirge for Wednesday, April 19, 1865" by Albert S. Pease (1865)

"Lincoln" by Rev. T. L. Drury (1915)

"The Face of Lincoln" by Rev. Joseph C. Booth (1918)

"Washington and Lincoln in Paradise" by Rev. Joseph C. Booth (1920)

"True Greatness" by Rev. Joseph C. Booth (1922)

"Abraham Lincoln (Can We Forget?)" by Rev. Algernon S. Clark (1926)

"A Dirge on the Death of Abraham Lincoln" by Josiah L. Young (1865)



Rest, thy noble work is done:

Sleep among the hallowed dead:

Golden buds encrown thy head,


Distant far from mortal rage,

From the envy of thy power,

Perfect triumph is thy dower,


No more sorrow, no more pain,

Sleepless nights nor days of toil:

Safe, above the rude turmoil,


Costly tears are shed for thee,

Envy dareth not to rave,

Millions bend above thy grave,


Weep, oh sobbing nation, weep!

Hallowed sunshine guards his rest,

Cradled in the golden West,


He is thine, thy chosen son,

Naught can rob thee of his fame,

Naught can dim his deathless name,


Down the ages it will glow

Mid the shining stars of time,

Paling those of every clime,


None, through all the peopled past,

Has been loved like thee, save one,

He, the blessed Virgin's son,

                                Sacred evermore.

No such sepulchre as thine,

Greener for a Nation's tears,

Green throughout a thousand years,

To the outmost flank of time.

Sleep, impassive silence reign!

No assassin can invade

Where thy precious dust is laid,


Bloom, oh prairie, verdure sweet!

All your rare redundance spread,

Sprinkling perfume o'er his head,


                                        Troy Daily Whig, May 2d.

A Tribute of Respect by the Citizens of Troy to the Memory of Abraham Lincoln. Troy, NY: Young & Benson, 1865. 258-260.

"Washington and Lincoln in Paradise" by Rev. Joseph C. Booth (1920)

Washington and Lincoln in Paradise.

(An Impressive Dream.)


I dreamed I was in Paradise and there,

While breathing deep its spirit-bracing air,

Entranced I stood with sights my eyes beheld;

But, dazzled by the crystal light, compelled

Was I to veil, as Moses, when he saw

Jehovah's Face, when he received the Law!

The saints, in light, emblazoned flags unfurled,

Mirrored by jasper walls and gates impearled,

While musing o'er the streets of burnished gold

I met the great celebrities of old:

First, Abraham, with Moses, strode along;

Now, David, with Isaiah, led a throng

Of poets and musicians to a mount

Called "Ecstasy;" there at the living fount

Of Joy, celestial nectar drank and then,

In strains supernal, praised the Great Amen!

I met the martyr—saints, who sealed with blood

Their faith in God—Paul and his brotherhood.

Jehovah beckoned and to Him I flew,

And sitting by His side, as in review,

I saw vast multitudes of angels pass

And folks of every nation, clime and class;

Like tidal-waves the armies swept along,

Encrowned with victory and cheered with song!

For miles, in wide-extending vision, I

Beheld such scenic grandeur, to descry

Would tax a Shakespeare, plus Miltonic mind—

With Homer, Virgil, Dante all combined!

Two studious men attracted me the most,

Who drew the attention of the heavenly host;

Slowly they came, locked in each other's arm,

With solemn visage, yet supremely calm.

I called John Wesley, being a Methodist,

And read some names I had upon my list;

Then, pointing to the stately twain, I said:

Who are those men that walk with thoughtful tread?

Surprised was John, at my blank ignorance,

So clearly seen in his reproving glance;

Then, looking at them, with a gladsome ken,

Said he "They are your famous countrymen:

The right—brave Washington, forever true;

The left—great Lincoln, whom Booth madly slew!"

The name of Booth awoke me from my dream,

As I resolved I would that name redeem!

Reflecting on my dream, with lawful pride,

I still behold those leaders, side by side:

Lincoln, who saved us, when by factions rent,

And Washington—our Father-President!

Inseparable, forever, let them stand—

The "Father" and the "Savior" of our land!

Troy Times. February 12, 1920: 6 col 1.

"The Death Of President Lincoln" by Mrs. E. Van Santvoord (1865)



        A Nation's mighty heart

                Throbs with a voiceless woe;

        The skies in pity weep,

                The winds are sobbing low.

The gentle stars have veiled their light,

And deep'ning gloom enshrouds the night.

        The patriot heart is stilled —

                Stilled by a murderer's hand!

        Strong men are bowed in grief,

                And mourning fills the land.

And countless eyes are dimmed with tears,

Sad hearts oppressed with anxious fears.

        A few brief days agone

                Bells rang with merry peal;

        And brightening omens told

                Our country's future weal;

Flags floated on the sun-lit air,

The night was o'er of our despair.

        How changed the joyous scene!

                Now draped in midnight gloom

        The stars and stripes he loved:—

                Oh, plant them o'er his tomb;

Thus may the sacred emblem keep

Sweet vigil o'er his peaceful sleep.

        That warm and kindly heart,

                It knew no bitter thought;

        With hopeful faith and love,

                Its deeds of mercy wrought;

It ne'er betrayed our fervent trust.

Our Country guards the hallowed dust!

                                                Troy Daily Times.

April 15, 1865.

A Tribute of Respect by the Citizens of Troy to the Memory of Abraham Lincoln. Troy, NY: Young & Benson, 1865. 92-93.

"In Memoriam A. L." by Benjamin Homer Hall (1865)


A. L.


Strong in the strength of common sense:

        Fettered by naught but right's own rules;

        With wisdom blessed above the schools,

And void of sham and false pretence;

Finding in every human face

        Some image of the source of all,

        Hearing in every bondman's call

The suppliance of a common race;—

Thus armed, in blackest hour of hate,

        Obedient to a people's voice

        And sacred by a people's choice,

He came to'guard and save the state.

He waited, suffering long the rage

        That strove the nation's heart to pierce,

        And watched, till treason's madness fierce

At Sumter cast the rebel gage.

Then to his summons forth there came

        Brave Northern men with hurrying tread,

        Fired with a vengeance grand and dread,

To vindicate the nation's fame.

They left the busy marts of trade,

        They left the anvil and the plough,

        And their sweet lives, with solemn vow,

On their dear country's altar laid.

Then through long years of deadliest strife —

        Our banner trodden in the dust—

        Lincoln, with simple, childlike trust,

Stood firm to save the nation's life.

He never yielded hope nor heart.

        Pierced with the shaft of bitter hate,

        He chose with kindest soul to wait,

And hide the venom of the dart.

He could not sink to motives base,

        Nor seek a good by doubtful ends;

        But weighed the counsel of his friends,

And looked above for light and grace.

Then Truth revealed her godlike form,

        And Slavery fell, no more to rise,

        Crushed by the fiat of the skies,

Dying amid the battle storm.

Man, bound in gyves of grief and pain

        For crime of color or of birth,

        Rose from the common mother earth,

Freed from the dark, inhuman stain.

Out from unnumbered voices poured

        The anthem sweet of freedom's song,

        Of right triumphant over wrong,

From man redeemed to God adored.

Then one by one the strongholds fell

        Where treason long had held her seat,

        While he, so calm amid defeat,

In triumph, checked the exultant swell.

Thus victory came to be our friend,

        And hope inspired the longing view

        With vision of a heavenly hue —

The omen of a peaceful end.

Then sped that midnight message dread,

        Borne madly on the electric wire,

        Burning its way on wings of fire,

That he who loved us all was dead.

On that black day that saw thee slain

        Oh Christ! that sinful man might live,

        That noble soul which thou did'st give

Passed from a murdered body's pain!

On that white day, when to the sun

        Again from Sumter's ruins rose

        Our country's flag, by fiercest foes

This deed of damning guilt was done!

Crowned with a never ending fame,

        Encircled by a nation's love,

        A martyr here, a saint above,

Be every honor done his name.

Oh God! a nation prostrate lies,

        And supplicates Thy favoring care:

        Make answer to its wrestling prayer,

And bid it in Thy strength arise.

Then shall these brooding clouds of night,

        That cast their shadow o'er our way,

        Dissolve before the brightening day,

And leave us in Thy blessed light.

                                Troy News.

April 19, 1865.

A Tribute of Respect by the Citizens of Troy to the Memory of Abraham Lincoln. Troy, NY: Young & Benson, 1865. 178-179.

“Sic Semper Tyrannis” Edward Hewes Gordon Clark (1865)



"Sic semper tyrannis," vile southron?

        You murdered your own truest friend!

And may God now have pity for traitors —

        Man's patience has come to an end!

"Sic semper tyrannis," O madman?

        He marshalled to freedom a race!

He led us to battle with tyrants;

        To dare look the right in the face!

"Sic semper tyrannis," assassin?

        Behold a whole nation in black!

And hark to the curse of its millions

        That rumbles along your track!

"Sic semper tyrannis,"— O Heaven!

        That motto for slavery's knife;

While died the great servant of freedom,

        As martyrdom sainted his life!

"Sic semper tyrannis,"— God help us

        To bear it — the deed and the loss;

The crime that has scarcely been mated

        Since Jesus was nailed to the cross!

"Sic semper tyrannis"— Our Father

        In Heaven, we swear unto Thee,

Once more over him thou hast taken,

        All men shall be equally free!

                                Troy Daily Press.

A Tribute of Respect by the Citizens of Troy to the Memory of Abraham Lincoln. Troy, NY: Young & Benson, 1865. 168-169.

"A Dirge for Wednesday, April 19, 1865" by Albert S. Pease (1865)



Toll! toll! the solemn bell!

And as the dirges swell

        On the sad air,

Let every voice be dumb.

Let every heart be still;

Let every bosom thrill

        Only with prayer.

Great God of Liberty!

Humbly we pray to Thee:

        Hear us to-day:

Save Thou our native land.

Save by Thy mighty power.

Cheer us. In this dark hour,

        Turn not away.

Drape every heart in grief,

Sad that our Nation's chief,

        Loved and revered,

Dead from the Capitol,

Goes to his silent rest,

By all the people blest,

        Solemnly bier'd.

Muffle the rousing drum;

Stifle the busy hum

        Of daily strife.

Keep down the bitter thought.

Out of this fearful grief

(God give our hopes relief,)

        Get we new life.

High let our eagle soar;

Loud let the cannon roar,

        No more to cease.

Shrill blow the bugle blast.

Plain in the air are heard,

By every leaf that's stirred,

        Whispers of peace.

Great God of Liberty!

God of Prosperity!

        Hear us, we pray:

Spare us our life and laws.

Empty all hearts of hate;

All of War's ills abate.

        Bless us to-day.

                                Troy Daily Press.

A Tribute of Respect by the Citizens of Troy to the Memory of Abraham Lincoln. Troy, NY: Young & Benson, 1865. 175-176.

"True Greatness" by Rev. Joseph C. Booth (1922)

True Greatness.


        A sonnet tribute to the honored memory of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, whose birthdays make the month of February so sacred to every true American.

True greatness riseth like an Alpine peak

Amidst the mountains, rocks and hills that stand

In seeming rivalry; while near at hand

One fails to see its vast proportions, seek

The distant view and let true greatness speak!

Behold the towering monarch of the land,

Jehovah's masterpiece — supremely grand,

Crowned with eternal radiancy unique!

True greatness fadeth not with fading years,

Nor crumbleth with the wreckages of time;

By age, fame's acid test, its form appears

More rugged and its grandeur more sublime:

So Washington and Lincoln heavenward rise,

Like Alpine peaks that piece our Nation's skies!

        Waterford, N.Y.

Troy Times. February 11, 1922: 3 col 1.

"Lincoln" by Rev. T. L. Drury (1915)



Lincoln, who from the common swain

Rose up among the men of might,

Thy spirit pure and wisdom plain

Did not exert their power in vain

For what thou deemed as truth and right.

Nor common people have forgot

Thy love and sacrifice so great,

Thy sentiment that wonders wrought

In shaping purpose and the thought

That still are strength of home and state.

And e'en our youth doth honor give

Thy name in school and marketplace,

And would thy noble spirit live,

And would thy virtues all receive,

And would thy loyalty embrace.

And proved we are that common clay,

All animate with living truth,

Could rise and to the nations say

Free government shall not decay

Nor perish from the earth, forsooth.

And so to keep the nation strong,

Her honor keep inviolate,

And not surrender to the wrong,

Although the battle may be long,

We need thy love serene and great.

Not from the house of princes grand

Come forth the saviors of the state,

They are the comm'ners of the land,

Whom all the people understand,

Because they are by nature great.

And still the people know the worth

Of one who is the nation's friend,

Who dares to stand and then go forth

To help the South as well as North,

And all their loyal virtues blend.

O Lincoln! let thy creed be ours,

Let us thy soul and heart possess,

And like the sweet perfume of flowers

In exercise of all our powers,

Hence may thy kindly spirit bless!

Troy Times. February 11, 1915.

"The Face of Lincoln" by Rev. Joseph C. Booth (1918)

The Face of Lincoln.


What tenderness, beyond description's song,

Blended with granite firmness, unsurpassed:

The iron jaw, wrought to defy the blast;

The golden mouth that held the diamond tongue,

That cut the heart of selfishness and stung

Hypocrisy; those eyes prophetic, cast

In wisdom's mold; that noble brow—so vast—

The glory of the Land from which he sprung!

Man's face is index of his character,

And character the flower of human life!

Then, study well the face of Lincoln, Sir:

Behold the marks of sorrow, care and strife!

A face so striking, rugged, sure, refined—

Reflects a gentle soul—a ponderous mind!

Troy Times. February 12, 1918: 7 col 1.

"Indian Cure!" by Josiah Powers (1843)

LOOK AND SEE what an eminent physician of the regular order says below:—

        The science of medicine is a barbarous jargon, and the effects of our medicine upon the human system are in the highest degree uncertain, except indeed that they have already destroyed more lives than war, pestilence and famine combined.—Dr. Good.

The scrap above, as you may see, is from great Dr. Good,

He's great because great truth he tells, as every wise man should

The faculty if virtuous men we'll pay them just respect

If true (and 'tis what Good has said) their drugs should all neglect. J. P.


        For Scofula, Salt-Rheum and various other eruptive humors which infect and ruin the blood, (originating from various causes—such as intemperance and bad habits of the present, and foregoing generations, poisonous Medicines or vaccinnations from bad matter, &c.) being a decoction of Roots and Herbs, accompanied by a box of Indian Vegetable Pills, from both of which are excluded all deadly vegetable and mineral poisons, and if used according to the directions, is warranted to cleanse the blood and eventually restore the patient to health.


        Being anti-dyspeptic and anti-bilious in their nature, they are warranted to execute their office without causing pain to the patient—but will relieve it and answer all purposes where physic is required. Take them, try them, prove them, and it is confidently anticipated that you like myself and thousands of others who have proved them, will exclaim from the heart, blessed be the Inventor and especially his inspirer for so much real good, bestowed on us and our neighbor. Also


        Or Ointment, (if a little Spirits Turpentine or Alcohol may be added,) which is warranted to heal any sore where the patients blood is free from humors, should this not be the case, the Indian Medicine which will speedily cleanse and purify the system, will be found together with the medicines mentioned above and below for sale by J. POWERS, North 4th st., No. 37, Troy.

        Also a variety of American roots and herbs in their natural state, and likewise mixed according to the Indian plan and mode of doctoring, designed for the cure of various diseases, especially Cancers, Salt-Rheum, Scroffula, Venereal, Gravel, Diabetis, Colds, Coughs, Consumption, Cramp and Convulsion Fits, Male and Female weaknesses—a very speedy and natural Indian cure for Summer complaints, Dysentary and Bloody-flux, together with Indian dry mixtures, Tinctures, Decoctions, &c., for the cure of various other diseases too numerous to mention.

        Should the efficacy of the above Medicine be questioned by interested opponents, numerous testimonials in its favor can be given by those who have tested its merits, myself for one have used the Indian Medicines only in my family for the last ten years with complete success, have cured different kinds of fevers, coughs, colds, inflamations, diarrhea, summer complaints, &c. Should any one attempt to fix a blot on the above, by calling it Quack Medicine, the answer is, that all reformers in Physic, Law, Morals, or Divinity, in their day were denounced as Quacks, and Heretics, by those holding reins of fashion and power. Therefore would it not be wise for this generation to try the simple Medicines of our gardens and forests, which experience, reason, genius and common sense shall dictate, and hold fast what is proved to be good. Being myself poor, I shall endeavor to remember that class and do them all that good my circumstances and abilities will allow.

        If you from me this Medicine receive,

        And say in truth, you've followed my direction,

        And also show it had not you relieved,

        I'll pay you back your money every fraction.

        Take exercise in sweet pure morning air,

        Be strictly temperate if good health you prize,

        When sick, the Indian Roots and Herbe prepare,

        And shun all sorts of poisons in disguise.

        If Rats-bane, Wolfs-bane, Mercury and quinine,

        Kill vermin, dogs and cats and even swine,

        Why then should man need war to thin the specie,

        While fashion from such nostrums won't release ye.

        It would by heart rejoice I'm sure,

        Could I proscribe to you a cure,

        That would both warm your flesh and bones,

        Ah! sooth your pains and stop your groans,

        Thus spoil the Undertaker's trade.

Daily Troy Budget. August 10, 1843

Dr. John Mason Good (1764-1827) doesn’t seem to have said "The science of medicine is a barbarous jargon, and the effects of our medicine upon the human system are in the highest degree uncertain, except indeed that they have already destroyed more lives than war, pestilence and famine combined."

        "The following editorial address, may serve as a specimen of the ability with which the Lobelian is to be conducted. […]

        “It is an Abercrombie who says, ‘We own that our system is defective, and the action of our remedies in the highest degree uncertain,’ except, indeed, that they have already destroyed more lives than war, pestilence and famine. […]

        “It is a Good, who terms it a ‘barbarous jargon.”

Botanico-Medical Recorder 6(18). June 2, 1838: 279.

It’s apparent in the above 1838 text that “except, indeed, that they have already destroyed more lives than war, pestilence and famine” was written by an advocate of “Thomsonian Medicine” in an 1838 issue of the Lobelian and Rhode Island Medical Review (which may have ceased publication that same year) and was not written by John Abercrombie (1780-1844): it’s not in quotation marks. Where it is that Dr. Abercrombie wrote “We own that our system is defective, and the action of our remedies in the highest degree uncertain,” if the words are even his, I do not know.

Good’s words, the ones attributed to Abercrombie, and the Lobelian’s merged:

"Dr. Good […] the author of a Medical Work entitled, ‘Good’s Study of Medicine,’ […] says, ’The science of medicine is a barbarous jargon, and the effects of our medicine on the human system are, in the highest degree, uncertain, except, indeed, that they have already destroyed more lives than war, pestilence and famine combined. […] Dr. Abercrombie says, ‘We own our system defective, and the action of our remedies in the highest degree uncertain.’”

“Defence Against Allopathic Abuse.” New England Botanic Medical and Surgical Journal 1(14). July 16, 1847. 225.

Good’s “barbarous jargon” was taken grossly out of context. He didn’t call the science of medicine a “barbarous jargon,” but was objecting to a lack of “common principle” for nomenclature, an issue he felt could be resolved.

"The main object of the present attempt is not so much to interfere with any existing system of nosology, as to fill up a niche that still seems unoccupied in the great gallery of physiological study. It is that, if it could be accomplished, of connecting the science of diseases more closely with the sister branches of natural knowledge ; of giving it a more assimilated and family character; a more obvious and intelligible classification; an arrangement more simple in its principle, but more comprehensive in its compass ; of correcting its nomenclature, where correction is called for, and can be accomplished without coercion ; of following its distinctive terms as well upwards to their original sources as downwards to their synonyms in the chief languages of the present day ; and thus, not merely of producing a manual for the student, or a text-book for the lecturer, but a book that may stand on the same shelf with, and form a sort of appendix to, our most popular systems of natural history ; and may at the same time be perused by the classical scholar without disgust at that barbarous jargon, with which the language of medicine is so perpetually tesselated - and which every one has complained of for ages, though no one has hitherto endeavoured to remedy it. […]

"What has been done for chemistry, botany, and natural history, ought long ago to have been done for medicine ; whose vocabulary is a jumble of terms derived from almost every language, and every system, whether dead or living, founded upon no common principle, and equally destitute of precision and simplicity. It consists of Hebrew and Arabic terms ; Greek and Latin ; French, Italian, Spanish, German, English, and even Indian, African and Mexican; often barbarously and illegitimately compounded, doubtful in derivation, cacophonous to the ear, and, for want of a determinate signification, formed, as one would think, rather for the purpose of suppressing ideas than of communicating them. It is not necessary to detail the cause of this confusion. It has manifestly arisen, in a very considerable degree, from those political and geographical changes that have marked the history of medicine in its different epochs, in conjunction with that succession of theories, which, very nearly from the time of Hippocrates, has been perpetually unfolding to the world ; almost every one of which, if characterized by nothing else, has at least taken care to mark its existence by a new coinage of words.”

Good, John Mason. The Study of Medicine: With a Physiological System of Nosology. Vol. 5. 4th American Ed. Philadelphia, PA: H.C. Carey et al., 1825. vii, xxxvi.

Josiah Powers (1806-1882) might be interred in Marlboro, Vermont, where is wife is. His brother and business partner Lyman Powers (1802-1868) is in Troy's Old Mount Ida Cemetery:

"Harvest Home: Ode for the Rensselaer County Agricultural Fair" by Mrs. Sigourney (1843)

        The following beautiful Ode to be sung at the Rensselaer County Agricultural Fair, has been kindly furnished by Mrs. Sigourney, a Poetess whose writings are well known, and always well received by the American people.



The Farmer at his harvest home!

        When garden, field and tree,

Conspire with flowing wealth to fill

        His barn and granary,—

While his young, healthful children sport

        Amid the new-mown hay,—

Or proudly aid with vig'rous arm

        His toll as best they may.

Perchance, the hoary grandsire's eye

        The glowing scene surveys,

And breathing blessings on his race

        He guides their heartfelt praise.

The Harvest Giver is their friend,

The Maker of the soil,

And Earth, kind Mother, yields her fruits,

        To cheer their patient toil.

The Farmer at his harvest home!

        A patriot true is he,—

So let the land he loves rejoice

        In his festivity.

Daily Troy Budget. September 16, 1843

"Emigration" (1789)


BY dire misfortune driven to despair,

To southern climes our hardy sons repair;

There in a land of fire, disease, and slaves,

Where the FIRST PLANTER is the man of graves,

Where fevers, agues, fogs and dews destroy,

And aid grim death the sexton to employ,

The wretched victims find when 'tis too late,

Their native clime affords a milder fate.

The Federal Herald [Lansingburgh, NY]. September 14, 1789.

"A New Catechism" (1789)


More studied than an OLDER and BETTER one.

WHAT is the chief end of man?

To gather up riches---to cheat all he can,

To flatter the rich---the poor to despise,

To pamper the fool--to humble the wise,

The rich to assist--to do all in his power,

To kick the unfortunate still a peg lower;

To cry up fair freedom--to defend it with vigor,

Have slaves without number--and use them with rigor,

To deal fair with all men, where riches attend them;

To grind down the poor, where there's none to defend them,

To seduce the fair virgin to accept his embrace,

To cast on her then all the shame and disgrace;

To be angel without, and divil within,

To pretend to all virtue, and practice all sin,

This is most men's chief and, or their actions belie them,

And if you don't believe it, you may e‘en go and try them.

The Federal Herald. July 1789.

On August 10, 1789, though not specifically related to the above, the paper reprinted an extract from one of George Washington's letters that included the following:

These works of charity & goodwill towards men reflect, in my estimation, great lustre upon the Authors and presage an æra of still farther improvements. How pitiful, in the eye of reason & religion, is that false ambition which desolates the world with fire & sword for the purposes of conquest & fame; when compared to the milder virtues of making our neighbours and our fellow men as happy as their frail conditions & perishable natures will permit them to be!

“From George Washington to John Lathrop, 22 June 1788,” Founders Online, National Archives (, ver. 2013-12-27). Source: The Papers of George Washington, Confederation Series, vol. 6, 1 January 1788 – 23 September 1788, ed. W. W. Abbot. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1997, pp. 348–349.

"On Female Administration" (1788)

On Female Administration.

WELL, gentle dames, though barr'd and bolted fast,

I am, as women will be, free at last;

And where's the right which daring men inherit,

To bind in chains the free-born female spirit!

No--let us keep our order and our charter,

And hold the ribband still above the garter.

Invasion's threat no female heart appals--

Our husbands, they may stand as wooden walls,

While woman, safe one shore, defends the nation,

Herself one general, vast fortification.

High o'er head the standard plume she rears,

For gay recruits, and flattery's volunteers.

While ambush'd cupids lie in wait to kill,

From groves of gauze and battlements of frill.

In aid of us shall come a corps of beaux,

Lost 'twixt two cannon curls each puggish nose;

A gentle band they move, above their tears,

And far as are their caps above their ears.

Say, gay and liberal freemen, won't you then

Commit to ladies what belongs to men?

Trust to our management the constitution,

Your gentle ays will pass the resolution:

But should you equally divide on this,

I am the speaker, and my vote says--yes.


The Federal Herald. June 2, 1788.

One wouldn't necessarily recognize it from the above, particularly with the date of publication falling between the adoption of the U.S. Constitution and its ratification by the States, but it's a digested part from a play. Among the lines left out: "For while this gallant mind the sex can hoast/Need Acts of Parliament defend our coast?"

"The Bird in a Cage, a Comedy, by James Shirley, originally published in 1633, was revived at Covent-Garden for the benefit of Mr. Quick. [...] Mrs. Wells, who performed Eugenia, the principal female character, spoke the following Epilogue, written by Capt. Topham." "British Theatre." Walker's Hibernian Magazine: Or, Compendium of Entertaining Knowledge. June 1786. 318.

"Kitty Hard-to-Please" and "Bob What-You-Please" (1787)

                From the Massachusetts Gazette.

        Messrs. Printers,

I want a man to my mind--If you insert the following description of the man I do not like, and any of your readers are free from the faults of which I complain, pray send him to me, for I long to be married.

                                                Kitty Hard-to-Please.

I DO not love a man that's tall--

A man that's little is worse than all.

I much abhor a man that's fat--

A man that's lean is worse than that.

A young man is a constant pest--

An old one would my room infest.

I do not like a man that's fair--

A man that's black I cannot bear.

A man of sense I could not rule,

And from my heart I hate a fool.

A sober man I will not take---

A drunken man my heart would break.

All these I do sincerely hate,

And yet I love the marriage state.

Northern Centinel and Lansinghborough Advertiser. July 23, 1787.

                For the Northern Centinel.

        Messrs. PRINTERS,

In compassion to the lady, who, under the signature of Kitty Hard-to-Please, has lately advertised the objects of her aversion in several public papers, and at the same time declares she longs to be married,---you are requested to insert the following in your next.

                                                BOB WHAT-YOU-PLEASE.

O KITTY, I'm the man for thee,

        I'm neither tall nor slender,

Not old, nor young--come meet with me,

        I'm ready to surrender.

Nor grossly fat, not ghostly spare,

        Nor sedulous, nor slack, miss;

Like puny boy I am not fair,

        Nor like an Indian black, miss.

Plain common sense I do not lack,

        And that's a lawful tender;

Yet I ne'er made an almanack,

        Nor saw the witch of Endor.

No sober smock-fac'd lump am I

        That deems the bottle treason;

I'll stick to Bachus till I die,

        But will not drown my reason.

A decent bowl inspires the soul,

        And makes us better spunk, miss;

But he's a brute, beyond dispute,

        Who grogs it till he's drunk, miss.

So, Kitty, if I please your mind,

        With you I'd like to winter.

And when you wish my place to find,

        Enquire of Mr. Printer.

        August 20, 1787.

Northern Centinel and Lansinghborough Advertiser. August 17, 1787.

One wonders if the Lansingburgh paper really was the first place of publication for the response. It seems at least possible, as one reprint shortly thereafter was credited "From the Northern Centinel." Vermont Gazette [Bennington, VT]. September 3, 1787: 4. Reprints by the next century would carry both poems together.

By the end of the eighteenth century, in the Atlantic coastal region, conventional wisdom obviously held the Indians to be "black," as illustrated in the silly American song, "Kitty Hard To Please." [...] [Bob] might have easily used the word "Negro" instead of "Indian," but in his mind there was no difference in color. (The image is all the more vividly instructive in that whites did not admire the pure white color of a "puny boy," for a man should have the ruddy complexion of healthy masculinity. Whiteness was idealized, but it was also gendered and thereby rendered seemingly irrational.) Kitty did not want to marry a person of color because it would be socially disadvantageous for her, not because she had a cultural bias against blackness as such. She made a conscious decision to do what she did—she was not simply reacting to cultural forces. Her personal act was socially motivated and structured.

Ingersoll, Thomas N. To Intermix with Our White Brothers: Indian Mixed Bloods in the United States from the Earliest Times to the Indian Removals. University of New Mexico Press, 2005. 32.

"On the Anniversary of the Independence of America" (1787)

For the Northern Centinel, &c.

On the Anniversary of the Independence of America.

NOW freeborn souls assembling through each state,

The Æra of their bliss commemorate;

With generous warmth each patriot bosom glows,

Each cheerful face a hopeful prospect shows.—

While future ages shall with joy and mirth,

Proclaim the morn that gave an empire birth;

Where freedom smiles on earth's extensive round,

There shall the glorious name GEORGE WASHINGTON be found.

        Albany, July 4, 1787.

Northern Centinel and Lansinghborough Advertiser. July 9, 1787.

Monday, February 10, 2014

"The Freedom of the Press" (1787)



WHERE dwells the man that dare suppress

The noble freedom of the press,

Sure he that would attempt the thing

On Haman's gallows ought to swing.

        The freedom of the press--

        O how shall I express,

        This grand important theme!

        Which unto me doth seem,

        To be of great and mighty weight

        Towards the freedom of the state.

Ye patriot band of friends!

You scarce can guess how much depends;

How much depends ye scarce can guess,

Upon the freedom of the press.

        The freedom of the Press &c.

How pleasing to a freeborn soul,

To speak, to write without controul,

And his internal thoughts express,

Whilst freedom smiles upon the press.

        The freedom of the Press &c.

How galling to the free-born mind,

To be by shackles so confin'd,

That he his mind dare not express,

Because a tyrant rules the press.

        The freedom of the Press &c.

O liberty! thou darling thing!

For thee I'd write from fall to spring;

For thee my warmest thoughts express--

May thou forever rule the press!

        The freedom of the press--

        O how shall I express,

        This grand important theme!

        Which unto me doth seem,

        To be of great and mighty weight

        Towards the freedom of the state.

Northern Centinel and Lansinghborough Advertiser. June 25, 1787.

The poem appeared anonymously and perhaps was reprinted from another newspaper. It was later reprinted in at least one other:

An anonymous poem published in the Freeman's Journal (North American Intelligencer) [Philadelphia, PA] June 27, 1787, reads:

Where dwells the man that dare suppress

The noble freedom of the press?

Sure he that would attempt the thing,

On Haman's gallows ought to swing.

This suggests that freedom of the press was not a new idea invented by the first amendment to the Constitution which provides that "Congress shall make no law...abridging the freedom of speech or of the press." As a matter of fact that the phrase had been a popular one in the courts since 1732.

Arthur L. Goodhart, Freedom of Speech and Freedom of the Press, 1964 WASH. U.L.Q. 248 (1964). 259. Available at:

"The Prospect" (1787)

T H E P R O S P E C T.

ONE pleasant morn, as carelessly I strayed,

Through fields and meadows where the lambkins play'd

Each varying scene which usher'd to my sight,

My fancy pleas'd, and gave me new delight;

Whilst sol in shining majesty did rise,

And deck'd with rosy hue the eastern skies,

The birds, new wak'd, made vocal every grove,

And, sweetly warbling, tun'd their throats to love;

The pearly drops my wandering feet bedew'd,

Whilst I well pleas'd the flowery path pursu'd:

At length I cross'd a gentle murmuring rill,

Which willingly supply'd a neighboring mill:

Here rugged cliffs, and rocks on every side,

In awful heighth the fertile plains divide.

Still onwards led by fancy's sovereign will,

I reach'd the summit of a pleasant hill,

Here, lost in rapture, pensively I stood,

Whilst a fair landscape I with pleasure view'd;

Here bounteous nature every prospect fill'd,

With contrasts gay, which grac'd the rural wild;

Whilst fixed thus, with pleasure I survey'd,

The fields and groves and every pleasant shade,

Diversify'd with rivers gliding on,

Whose surface smooth, reflects the rising sun.

The Mohawk falls from this high mount are seen,

Which fiercely roll the loft banks between;

The waters bursting with impetuous force,

O'er rugged cliffs which break their rappid course,

But find at length a channel smooth and plain,

Where they unite, and gently glide again;

The distant hills no longer now appear

So far remote, but seemingly are near.

How great's my joy, while from this mountain's top,

Around I view the farmer's rising crop;

Then next to see fair LANSINGHBOROUGH raise,

An infant city, which in future days,

Shall be exalted, populous and great,

As any boasted by a sister state.

Ye Gods indulge me with such pleasing views,

And grant the wishes of a friendly muse.

Lansinghborough, June 4, 1784.

Northern Centinel and Lansinghborough Advertiser. 1787.

"An Acrostic" by "A Lady" (1789)


W HERE is the man whose blooming laurels shine,

A nd form a wreath his temples to entwine?

S teady, yet active, thro' a gallant war,

H e rode victorious in the martial car:

I n council cool, determined, modest, wise;

N o guardless moment took him by surprise;

G reat were his dangers--thorny was his way,

T o reach the goal, where peace and glory lay--

O ppression fled, blest freedom NOW abides,

N or e'er shall roam while WASHINGTON presides

The Federal Herald [Lansingburgh, NY]. August 10, 1789

"A New Song" (1788)

A new S O N G.

TEN years, like Troy, my stubborn heart,

        Withstood th' assault of fond desire;

But now, alas! I feel a smart,

        Poor I, like Troy, am set on fire.

With care we may a pile secure,

        And from all common sparks defend;

But oh! who can a house secure,

        When the celestial flames descend?

Thus was I safe, till from your eyes

        Destructive fires are brightly given;

Ah! who can shun the warm surprise,

        When lo! the lightning comes from heaven.

The Federal Herald. May 26, 1788

The Federal Herald was published in Lansingburgh. Troy, New York, directly south of Lansingburgh, wasn't named "Troy" until about a year after the above poem was published. Whether anyone remembered it at that time, who could say?

"Advertisement" by Gideon Hinman (1787)


THE subscriber's wak'd up, spur'd by his creditor,

He can't make remittance, his money groes scarcer,

Calls upon debtors to make him remittance,

On paying their accounts he'll give them acquittance.

He's been very patient, on some he's long waited,

For sueing was always a thing that he hated;

And was it possible, he'd wait yet some longer,

Before he wou'd drive them beyond what is honor;

But the longer he waits, the worse they will serve him,

And surely waiting, and waiting, will starve him.

His friends soon to pay him, he therefore advises,

Great is the trouble when a LAW SUIT arises.

An account, when once sued, often costs double,

Pay him some money, and save yourselves trouble;

For surely he's in great need for the want on't,

So doing you'll oblige your most humble servant,

                                        GIDEON HINMAN.

        Lansinghborough, Sept. 3, 1787.

Northern Centinel and Lansinghborough Advertiser. September 3, 1787.

The paper was first published May 21, 1787 and was the first newspaper published in Rensselaer County, making the above perhaps one of the first newspaper ad-poems for the county. The first newspaper published in the state might have been the The Poughkeepsie Journal, established 1785, so Hinman’s poem is could still be among the oldest newspaper ad-poems for even the whole state.

Gideon Hinman (1725-1809)

Lansingburgh Village Cemetery, Troy, NY

Sunday, February 2, 2014

"Poem on Easter" by Rev. Susie Pimlott (1926)

        Poem On Easter.

        The following poem, written by the Rev. Susie Pimlott of Round Lake, is of interest:

The Savior sleeps; so pure.

        The Roman guard surround;

Laid in the tomb secure,

        No hope for man is found.

Dark as a pall, the night;

        Gloom and sad, the day,

Sorrowing women at early light,

        Haste, to the tomb away.

With spices sweet and rare,

        Ao anoint they hasten on;

Nor dream of the Angel fair,

        ‘Till they see the shining one.

“Be not afraid,” the Angel plead;

        “The stone is rolled away;

He is risen, as he said,

        Early, at break of day.”

“Come see the empty place,

        The tomb where Jesus lay;”

The Angel said, with radiant face,

        The women gladly obey.

Hallelujah, He is risen;

        The message to womankind;

He rose from his rocky prison,

        To liberate all mankind.

The grave is robbed of her prey;

        Joy sings in every heart.

This glad new Easter day,

        In mine shall have a part.

Saratogian. April 9, 1926: 6 col 5.

“[Rev. John R. Pimlott (1845-1920)] was married February 15, 1868, to Susie Bailey, a native of Troy, N. Y., and a daughter of Henry and Sarah (Jones) Bailey. They were the parents of one child, which died in infancy. Mrs. Pimlott is a valuable assistant to her husband in his revival meetings.”

"1920 The Methodist Episcopal Church grants women the right to be licensed as local preachers.”

“Timeline of Women in Methodism.” United Methodist Church.

"Levings has given preachers to the church. William H. Smith, Samuel A. Kirkbride, William Dunning and Thomas M. Bishop came from Levings Church. John R. Pimlott lived here after he returned from the active ministry, and was a member of the quarterly conference. In this list should also be named Mrs. Pimlott, who joined Levings Church earlier than anyone else now living, and who is to this day energetic and actively interested in the work of God. Mrs. Pimlott was granted a local preacher’s license in 1921 by Levings quarterly conference.”

“Pageant Opens Centennial of Levings Church; ‘Historic Levings’ To Be Presented as First Program of Celebration This Evening.” Times Record [Troy, NY]. September 21, 1938: 3 cols 2-4.

“ROUND LAKE, March 16.—Mrs. Susie Pimlott, widow of Rev. John R. Pimlott, died Monday at the Hodgeman home at Fort Edward of a heart attack. She was over 80. She is survived by a brother, Frank W. Bailey of Albany, and a sister, Mrs. Hattie Thompson of Troy.

“Mrs. Pimlott in May closed her home here, where she moved in 1926, six years after the death of her husband. They had both been active in establishing missions and doing evangelistic work.”

“Mrs. Pimlott Succumbs At Fort Edward Home.” Schenectady Gazette. March 17, 1939: 12.

“A song composed by Mrs. Susie Pimliott will be sung by the members.”

“Round Lake.” Troy Times. July 2, 1926: 13 col 3.

“Mrs. Susie Pimliott gave an interesting poem and each member was called to give a short story or recite.”

“Round Lake News.” Ballston Spa Daily Journal. June 11, 1928: 2 col 1.

“Mrs. Susie Pimliott read a poem and each member gave a short recitation or story.”

“Interesting Program.” Saratogian. June 13, 1928: 7 col 1.

“Mrs. Susie Pimliott read Abraham Lincoln’s favorite poem, ‘Oh, Why Should the Spirit of Mortal Be Proud.' Mrs. Woodruff favored with two poems appropriate for the occasion, ‘My Love Ship,’ and ‘What I Live For.’”

“Sunday School Class Surprise for Member, 90.” Saratogian. February 13, 1934: 8 col 5.

“Mrs. Tabor also read a poem on Florida written by Mrs. Susie Pimliott of Round Lake, which was published in the St. Petersburg Independent, in April, 1935. Mrs. Mitchell read an original poem entitled ‘My Florida.’”

“Florida Party Given in Honor of Mrs. Mitchell.” Saratogian. August 26, 1935: 6 col 4.

“Mrs. Tabor also read a poem on Florida written by Mrs. Susie Pimliott and published in the St. Petersburg ‘Independent’ of April, 1935.”

Ballston Spa Daily Journal. August 26, 1935: 3 col 4.

“Mrs. Tabor also read a poem on Florida, written by Mrs. Susie Pimliott of Round Lake. Mrs. Mitchell read an original poem.”

“Hold Florida Party at Round Lake House.” Schenectady Gazette. August 27, 1935: 10 col 8.