The Acorn—a Poem [pp. 337-339]

181. Th lon~Pe. 33
to all such as would go to settle the new country,
called Virginia, (after the Virgin Queen) that he
would pay their passage, give them as much land as
they might want, find themn provision for one year
and arms and ammunition to defend themselves
from the Indians:-that they should enjoy what religion they pleased; take in what minister they
pleased, and expel him when they pleased; that
they should have a parish to themselves and not
be under the control of the government, in respect
to their parochial affairs; which privilege they enjoy to this day.
All which the king faithfully performed. In the
year 1700, great numbers of Huguenots landed in
America; some on James river, and some on the
Rappahannock. They selected for their place of
residence, the Manikin Town, an old deserted village of the Manikin Indians, and settled on the
bank of the river. Each settler took a small strip
of land, running from the river to the foot of the
hill. As well as I can recollect, the settlement
extended about four miles along the river. There
the Huguenots built a house for the worship of
God, in the centre of the settlement. Here they
had worship twice a day on the Sabbath; conducting the service after the manner of the Germans. Such sweet singing I have never heard
since. They kept up worship in their families,
three times a day.
They fixed the bounds of their parish, and called it King-William Parish, after the name of their
king.
There was no settlement nearer then Richmond
town, yet the Indians never hurt them; the Lord
had said "touch not mine anointed, and do my prophets no harm."
There was no mill nearer than the mouth of
Falling Creek, twenty miles distant; and they had
no horses, but were obliged to carry their corn on
their backs to the mill.
When their children were grown up, they had
not land enough; they wrote to the king to request a grant of more land. He ordered ten thousand acres more to be laid off and joined to their
parish bounds.
Thus I have given you a narrative of what my
father told me, to the best of my recollection. If
any thing in it will answer your purpose, I shall
think myself well paid for my trouble. You must
sort it as we do our frost-bitten corn. I have not
corrected nor transcribed it.
"The works of the Lord are great; sought out
of all who take pleasure in them." Let children's children rehearse the great works of the
Lord and the next age prolong his praise.
I am, dear brother,
Yours,
JOHN DupuY.
VOL. VII-43
THE ACORN. A POEM.
BY MRS. SEBA SMITH.
An Acorn fell from an old oak tree,
And lay on the frosty ground"Oh, what shall the fate of the Acorn be?"
Was whispered all around,
By low-toned voices, chiming sweet,
Like a flowret's bell when swungAnd grasshopper steeds were gathering fleet,
And the beetle's hoofs up-ruing
For the woodland Fays come sweeping past
In the pale autumnal ray,
Where the forest leaves were falling fast,
And the Acorn quivering lay;
They came to tell what its fate should be,
Though life was unrevealed;
For life is a holy mystery,
Where'er it is concealed.
They came with gifts that should life bestow,
The dew and the living airThe bane that should work it deadly woe
Was found with the Fairies there.
In the grey moss cup was the mildew brought,
And the worm in a rose-leaf roll'd,
And many things with destruction fraught,
That its fate were qulickly told.
But it needed not; for a blessed fate
Was the Acorn's doomed to beThe spirits of earth should its birth-time wait,
And watch o'er its destiny.
To a little sprite was the task assigned
To bury the Acorn deep,
Away from the frost and searching wind,
When they through the forest sweep.
I laughed outright at the small thing's toil,
As he bowed beneath the spade,
And balanced his gossamer wings the while
To look in the pit he made;
A thimble's depth it was scarcely deep,
When the spade aside he threw,
And rolled the Acorn away to sleep
In the hush of dropping dew.
The spring-time came with its fresh, warm air,
And its gush of woodland songThe dew came down, and the rain was there,
And the sunshine rested longThen softly the black earth turned aside,
The old leaf arching o'er,
And up, where the last year's leaf was dried,
Came the Acorn shell once more.
With coiled stem, and a pale green hue,
It look'd but a feeble thingThen deeply its roots abroad it threw,
Its strength from the earth to bring.
The woodland sprites are gathering round,
Rejoiced that the task is done;
That another life from the noisome ground,
Is up to the pleasant sun.
The young child pass'd with a careless tread,
And the germn had well-nigh c(rush'dBut a spider, launched on her airy thread,
The cheek of the stripling brushedHe little knew as he started back,
How the Acorn's fate was hung
On the very point in the spider's track,
Where the web on his cheek was flung.
1841.]
The Acom-.d Poem.
337