ly tried, with partial success, for subduing fire.
These have since materialized in the modern chemical engine.
Mr. Usher was then in his thirty-sixth year, and no doubt was at his best, as flashes of wit appear at intervals in the address.
The Town Hall where he spoke was not our recently much-maligned and still doing business at the old stand edifice, neither was it the first Town Hall of Medford, but the second and larger building, built ten years before.
It replaced the one burnt in 1839, and the good judgment (regardless of civic pride) of the Medford people followed the old design of a leading architect of Boston, who planned the former structure.
A few months after this anniversary occasion it fell a prey to the devouring flames, but no mention thereof appears in the records of the company.
It appears that despite the excellent lessons of discipline and obedience to authority drawn by Mr. Usher from the life of Governor Brooks, a year had not elapsed when there was a w
., with excursions over the west fence into Squire Abner Bartlett's artichoke patch, and over the east fence into the orchard of the Misses Osgood; but at last the terrible Miss Lucy Osgood caught little Gorham Train who was rather slow in his return trip over that fence, and so our apple hooking came to an end. I can hear even now the lofty eloquence worthy of Antigone or Electra, with which Miss Lucy condemned Gorham's trespass.
I can fix a date at which I was in the grammar school.
In 1839 I saw the old church pulled down, and a picture of it in my possession bears that date of its destruction.
It had a high pointed spire above its open belfry.
At the belfry, carpenters sawed the upright posts through, and by a rope attached high above, the crowd below pulled and swayed.
The spire trembled, tottered and fell with a loud crash.
The great brazen rooster left its pintle, flew its first and last flight and fell at the feet of Sam Swan, who captured it and carried it home.