THE BIRTHPLACE OF COMMODORE ISAAC HULL. BY JANE DE FOREST SHELTON. F the portrait of some grandam who blaze of battle fire should be reflected on of century the Atlantic's breast ere the Union s right could “materialize," and stepping down, take her place beside the "tailor-made girl" of to-day, the difference would be no more marked than that between the good ship Constitution and a modern "ocean greyhound." Nevertheless, in spite of the top-heaviness of the old ship as compared with the new, if the two sailed down our harbor, there would be no necessity for an order of "hats off," and our heart-beats would tell us for which rang out the "three times three." Well does this great foremother of ours command both love and reverence. Stanch was she with the strength of oak from the forest primeval; unwavering ever as the polestar in the path of duty; and like a true woman of the olden time, ere "rights" and "suffrage" had lifted their heads from the nether chaos, she obeyed her master, while he, true and brave man of the olden time that he was, loved and honored her. The last century had nearly finished its final decade ere the young United States made any effort to organize a navy. A few frigates were then built, and in 1798 Isaac Hull was appointed to one of them, with the rank of lieutenant in the navy. He had grown up in the merchant service, and at the mature age of nineteen commanded a ship and made a voyage to London. When called to serve his country he was twenty-five years of age, and a distinguished ship-master in New York. With the opening of the new century the Constitution first came under his control, and ever remained his favorite. In the memorable year of 1812 he was again in command of this ship of his heart, which under his direction was destined to win from the people of this land a love akin to adoration, and the strong name of "Old Ironsides." The war of the Revolution secured a free foothold to the successors of the first sturdy colonists. The fire of liberty no longer needed the protection of an armed host, but burned brightly on thousands of hearth-stones, sending through the widemouthed chimneys the smoke of its incense, ever floating upward in thanksgiving. But it was necessary that the on the high seas was recognized. Isaac Hull not only secured for his country this freedom, but to him, as her representative, the standard of the "mistress of the seas" first bent itself. It was the cool presence of mind that is never taken unawares, the energy and fearlessness that admit of no result but success, and the strategic ability that gives the advantage over superior force and years of discipline—these, inherited from his father, and placed at the service of his country, established her claim to be a naval power. Now that "the dust has settled," now that the mists that lay on the sea of dissension have been blown away by the pure breath of love for a common heritage in face and tongue, now that the hands of England and America are clasped in ever-increasing friendliness, it is the valor, loyalty, and patriotism that are honored in a man, whether he ranked once as friend or foe. In 1639-hardly twenty years since the white-winged Mayflower had proved a bird of ill omen to the Massachusetts tribes, and the great Pequot war being ended--a small band of Connecticut colonists chose for a new settlement the site of an old Indian village near Long Island Sound, on the western bank of the Housatonic River. The Indian name of "Cupheag "gave place to "Stratford ”—in memory, according to the most pleasing tradition, of Stratford-on-Avon, the birthplace of some of their number. But in spite of the two claims of "right" and "might"-the patent granted by King James, and the conquest of territory in the Indian wars-it was found desirable, after a time, to have still another basis for their claim as landowners. After much parley, the Indians, charmed by the gleam and shine of sundry brass kettles, weapons of warfare, and the wonderful "white man's thunder," did "ingadge" to waive all right to a certain extent of meadow, forest, and hill-ranges in exchange for these alluring commodities from beyond the "big water." A display of penmanship followed-quaint old English on the part of the whites, and mystic signatures, arrow 64 THE CONSTITUTION BEING TOWED OUT OF BOSTON HARBOR, 1812. heads ("all the world's akin" surely) and the like, on the part of the Indian -which ceded to the former the district primarily included in the town of Stratford, stretching up the river "12 myle northward," and running seven or eight miles to the west. As the colony increased in numbers the more daring ones reached out from the main settlement near the mouth of the river, and here and there the nuclei of future towns were formed. Always on the hill-tops, not only because the better land lay there, but because the low lands were skirted by the river, which was the red man's road. He, in spite of treaties and bills of sale, was not always to be trusted. One of these early settlements, about eight miles northwest of the colonial centre, was named, with a clinging love for old Yorkshire's cathedral town, "Ripon," or "Ripton." In time, however, Ripton, growing in strength, asserted her importance, becoming first a borough, and eventually a town. Traditional affection yielding before local pride in honor of one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence and the State Governor, in 1789 she took the name of Huntington. Her "centre" was well up on the hills, a place of consequence in its day, sending out into the world many an illustrious son. Lesser settlements were formed within her limits, and she even attained to the dignity and importance of having her own seaport. The Indian, facing the inevitable, disturbed by the pioneer's axe and the plash of his millwheel, had retreated. At the river-side, four miles over and down the hills by the king's highway, a cluster of houses came into being. Here the river, coming down from between the northern hills, makes a long sweep eastward, and on its southern bank, back of the little docks called "The Landing," and the wide road bordered with elm-trees, stands the line of houses, with quaint roofs, hipped and gabled, friendly in their nearness. Beyond them to the eastward rises a rocky wooded hill-side called the Point of Rocks, and there the river, after receiving in its wide arms the lesser Naugatuck, makes a sharp turn southward on its winding way to the open Sound. Across the river from the Point of Rocks is Derby Landing, or, as it was more generally termed, "The Narrows." Derby was settled soon after Stratford, and in time it too had found the river-side safe, and being at the head of tide-water, its commerce was early established. It became the base for supplies for the back country, a port whose vessels sailed to all parts of the world, and whose foreign trade was for some years greater than that of New Haven. It was a place for ship-owners and ship-builders, receiving the name of the "Shipbuilding Town." Naturally it was a place for captains, their homes and families, and of stores where not only domestic goods were to be found, but the merchandise of both the East and West Indies, and the manufactures of England and the European nations, while the docks were piled with this country's products for export. One of the wealthiest and most influential families in Derby from its settlement was the Hull family. They lived at "Uptown," and built mills where plaster, grain, and flaxseed were ground and lumber sawn for export as well as for domestic use. This industry remained under the control of the family for several generations, and on the site of the old mill one of the millstones even now lies. In 1750 there was born to this family a son named Joseph, the fourth of the name, and the fifth in descent from Richard Hull, who came from Derbyshire to Connecticut before 1640. In those days a man's work began before he reached legal manhood, and while yet a boy Joseph Hull engaged in West Indian trade, becoming as familiar with the changing face of the ocean as with the hills and valleys of his childhood's home. A ferry was early established between Derby and the opposite shore, then a part of Stratford. Among the earliest houses on that side of the river was one about half a mile from the Landing, built in 1721, and sold by Yelverton Perry to Nathan Bennett in 1736. It was a large house with a stone chimney, a sure proof of its antiquity, as bricks did not come into use in that part of the country until about the middle of the century. The house remained intact until April, 1890, when it was burned, with adjacent buildings. The old deed of sale says: "104 acres of land in the Borough of Ripton, in consideration of fifteen hundred and thirty-two pounds in hand....a dwell ing-house and barn standing on said land.... one-eighth part of [interest in] a saw-mill standing on said land, and one-half of a ferry-boat, with the privilege of the ferry for himself and heirs." This property, with more land bought from others, was inherited from Nathan Bennett by his son Daniel, a deacon in the Congregational church at Ripton. When Lafayette, coming from Long Island to join Washington on the Hudson, passed through this part of the State, he and his officers had breakfast at this house. It was on a Sunday morning, and Deacon Bennett, with two little children in the wagon, was just starting for Ripton, when a man in uniform appeared, and asked if he could give Lafayette and his officers breakfast, and also furnish assistance in transporting the troops and cannon across the river. The deacon consented at once, sent the children into the house, ordered a sheep killed and cooked, and then went to the neighboring farmers for men and teams to render the necessary assistance. The army had been encamped in the upper part of Derby, and the river must be crossed by ferry and fording. The meal having been served and eaten, and the crossing successfully accomplish ed, the bill was called for. Deacon Bennett asked if the entertainment had been satisfactory. "Perfectly," was the reply. "Then there is no charge; you are entirely welcome." In this house in 1752 a daughter was born, to whom was given the time-honored name of Sally. There is an old story of which the world never tires. "How it happened" is of unflagging interest; but in this instance, as in many others where tradition has not reached down to the present, only imagination can be sent back to that happy past when Joseph Hull and Sally Bennett found the world all rose-color. Perhaps their friendship began in childhood. Perhaps it was a case of that occasional propinquity which carries its concealed magic. A story is told of an old lady who expressed no surprise when an intended marriage was announced that had caused the rest of her little world to open wide its eyes. She merely said: "Why, of course. I expected it. He had the next seat to her in the kirk!" Perhaps, as Ripton meeting-house was far off over the hills, it was sometimes easier to cross by ferry to Derby and walk demurely up the valley to the little church there! However, it happened, as it has ever since |