CHAPTER XV.

Mount Lamentation.

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The following story tells why Mount Lamentation was so named. It was written before the year 1833, as told to his children, by the Rev. Charles A. Goodrich, who for many years lived in the house now owned by Miss Julia Hovey:

"When I was telling you of the mountains of Connecticut, I mentioned one, as belonging to the Middletown range, by the name of Mount Lamentation. This mountain is situated in the town of Berlin, to the east of the fine turnpike which leads from New Haven to Hartford. The view of the mountain from this road is beautiful, and even grand. It rises like a steep precipice to a considerable height, and forms a sublime contrast to the rich meadows, which extend to a considerable distance from its base.

The name Lamentation was given to the mountain many years since, from the circumstance that a gentleman was once lost in the thick forest which crowns its top.

The name of this gentleman was Chester. He was one of the pious men who first settled the town of Wethersfield, about which I shall soon tell you. The event happened about nine years after the town was settled.

At some distance south of Wethersfield, there was an unenclosed ground, since called the Mill Lot. To this ground, Mr. Chester went one day, for some purpose, but I cannot tell you what it was. It was a cloudy afternoon, and he was alone. Having completed his business, he set out to return. The country on all sides was a wilderness. Scarcely a foot-path led back to the settlement. He took the direction, however, which he supposed would lead him home, and, for a time, went on without anxiety.

After walking some distance, he began to wonder that he did not come in sight of cultivated land. But still he was scarcely

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troubled, as it occurred to him that he might have gone much farther into the forest than he originally intended. He therefore quickened his step, expecting soon to emerge from the woods.

In this, however, he found himself disappointed. The farther he walked, the thicker the forest trees seemed to grow. A wild and fearful gloom, by this time, was settling around him. Night came on apace, and, for the first time, the painfulness of his situation came over his mind.

He had mistaken his way, and he was now convinced of it -He stopped, and asked himself, what he should do? He looked around, but he had no means of ascertaining the points of the compass. The sun had been obscured all day. That had now gone down; and not a solitary star glittered on the traveller to direct his course.

He could no longer tell the direction which he had come; of course he could not retrace his steps to the spot from which he had started. In this anxious moment, he scarcely knew what course to take. Having decided, however, he pushed for ward, still in hopes of reaching home before the setting in of full darkness should render it impossible. For a time, he hastened his flight by running. But the dangers thickened too fast around him to admit of this speed. Trees and rocks were scarcely visible. Against some he struck, and over others he fell.

Injured as he was, he still went forward. But now he pro ceeded with redoubled caution, since a single step might plunge him from some precipice into an abyss below. It added to the horrors of his situation, that the wolves and panthers, which inhabited the forest, were stealing abroad from their lurking places, in quest of prey. At times he could hear their yells; and, though at a distance, they sounded like the appalling war whoop of the savage.

Mr. Chester was a man of courage. He partook of that firm ness and daring which characterized the first settlers. This was a fortunate trait in their character, since they were liable to encounter dangers unknown to older countries. Mr. Chester

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was also a man of piety. He believed in God, and well did he know that his providence could protect him; or, if in the gloomy recesses of the forest he must die, God could take him to his glory.

Trust in God, my children (said Mr. Goodrich), is a source of comfort, in the saddest hour which afflicts the heart of man. It imparts light in darkness, and inspires with courage, in the midst of a thousand dangers. This pious pilgrim now fell upon his knees, and commended himself to an Almighty Protector. He prayed for composure —for direction— for deliverance.He supplicated for submission to the Divine will.

When he rose, he knew that God was there. Still his heart was full. Whose heart would not have been full? He thought of home; of a tender anxious wife; of her helpless weeping children. He was a kind and tender husband, a fond and affectionate father. His thoughts gave life to all the sensibilities of his soul; his bosom heaved with unutterable anguish, when he felt that he might see his family no more.

Roused, however, by his feelings, he determined to make another effort to reach home that night. He now changed his course, and changed again, and again, and with increased caution proceeded on his way. All effort, however, was in vain. No opening disclosed itself to his weary step, and no glimmering light fell upon his moistened eye.

In this state he continued to wander, he scarcely knew whither, nor how long. At length, overcome with anxiety and fatigue, he sunk upon the earth, concluding to wait till day. At the same time, he determined not to sleep; but had he determined otherwise, it would have been to no purpose, for sleep approached him not.

Before the day dawned, however, he forgot his cares a few minutes. Protected by Providence, he awoke, but judge what must have been his gratitude to God. He had stopped the preceding evening—he had laid himself down on the very verge of a frightful precipice. A few steps more, and he would have slept the sleep of death.

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The morning, which brings joy to most, brought little to him. A dark cloud still hung on the sky, and a thick mist obscured almost every object around him. He knew not where he was, and what was still more painful, he knew not what direction to take.

As he rose from the earth, he found his limbs stiff from exposure to the damps of the night. A faintness came over him for want of food. He descried some berries on a neighboring bush, and drank some water from a neighboring rill.

The day preceding he had pursued a course which he supposed to be north and east, though it was afterwards proved to be a direction exactly opposite. The day continued dark and gloomy. His exertions were now such as he could make; but they were far less vigorous than they had been the day before, for he was fainter from the loss of strength and courage.

Again night approached. A deathlike sickness settled upon his head. The darkness and the solitude appalled his weakened mind. He sank upon the earth and commended himself to God in prayer. A kind Providence enabled him to sleep, and protected him from the dangers which surrounded him. The bowlings of the wild beasts occasionally broke upon his slumbers, but if they approached him they were not permitted to touch him.

Another morning found him still in the land of the living; but hope had now nearly fled. It was still dark and cloudy. His exhaustion of body had affected his mind, and he scarcely knew what he was, or whither he would go.

He perceived, however, that he was ascending an elevated tract of country, which he conjectured to be the base of a mountain. Up this ascent he dragged his way, faintly hoping that from its top he might overlook the settlement at Wethers-field.

But the impressions of what took place that day were too faint ever to be distinctly recalled. He only recollected that he reached the top —he looked abroad— but he could discover nothing but a wild waste of woods, extending as far as the eye

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could reach. At the prospect, his heart sickened to its core, and hope took her flight.

We will now go back, my children (said Mr. Goodrich), to the home of Mr. Chester. His wife had expected his return at an early hour of the afternoon on which he left her. It was unusual for him to be absent after sundown. As that time had arrived, she began to feel anxious that he did not make his appearance.

Her solicitude increased as the evening advanced. The hour of family prayer came. The large family bible was brought out and laid in its usual place. Every moment it was expected he would come. But he came not. At length, after waiting long —after listening many a time to hear the sound of his approaching step— she sent her family to bed, while she watched still longer for his arrival. The morning at length dawned, but he had not arrived.

The news of his strange absence was now spread through the village. No one had seen him or heard of him. Several of the inhabitants started in search of him. They were abroad all day, but no trace and no tidings could they discover of him. It was now settled that some serious disaster had befallen him.

I cannot stop to tell you of the cruel suspense of the family; nor of the agitated state of the village, on the setting in of this second night. A thousand conjectures floated through different minds—and many ill bodings respecting him went the village round.

The next day, at an early hour, preparations were made for a more extended search. Nearly all the men of the settlement were summoned, and after settling their plan, they started in different directions, on the intended search. They took with them drums and firearms, to assist in guiding his course, should he fortunately come within the sound of them.

This day, however, passed away like the other. Most of the men came back at evening, to communicate their failure to the now agonized family and friends. A small party, however, had wandered so far to the south during the day, that they concluded to encamp out for the night.

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The following day, this party renewed their search. They continued to pursue a southerly course. Occasionally they fired their guns; they halloed; they called his name; they sounded their drum.

At length, the sound of the drum broke upon the bewildered man's ear. He stopped; he listened. He went on. Again he paused. His brain was confused. His mind was disordered. Still he had sufficient understanding left to think; and a thought now glanced over his mind, that his friends might be in search for him, and he dragged himself towards the coming sounds.

He thought these sounds increased. He was sure they did. He heard his name sounded at a distance. The sound came through the forest like the voice of mercy. He could no longer advance. He stood like a marble monument. A few minutes brought the party within his view. They also saw him. A thrill of joy he felt play round his heart, and, as they approached to welcome him to their bosom, his mind seemed to recover its tone. Tears of joy burst from his eyes; and an exclamation of gratitude ascended from his lips to the great Author of his deliverance.

The joy of his neighbors was scarcely exceeded by his own. They conducted him home, a distance of thirteen miles, which he had wandered. The place where he was found was this mountain in Berlin; and well afterwards was it called Mount Lamentation.

I cannot describe to you, my children (said Mr. Goodrich), the joy which thrilled through the hearts of his family—which spread through the village, as the party made their appearance, with the object of their toilsome search. I dare say the story was long remembered by both old and young, and was improved by the pious pilgrims, in a religious way. It would lead them to reflect upon the lost and wandering state of mankind, in respect to their creator. Let us (said Mr. Goodrich) improve it in a similar manner. We are lost, my children; we are wan-dering, in a darker, and still more dreary wilderness. But there is One, who is appointed 'to seek and save the lost.'

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Happy will it be for us, if we be found of Him, and are restored to the family in Heaven above, who will welcome our restoration with songs of joy, such as angels sing."

In the ancient burying ground at Wethersfield may be seen a table monument which bears the following inscription:

Here lyes the body of Leonard Chester Armiger late of the town of Blaby and several other Lordships in Leicestershire, deceased in Wethersfield Anno Domini 1648 oetatis 39.

Strange figures, rudely cut on the stone, doubtless an armoral device, have been supposed by some to represent the hobgoblins that appeared to Mr. Chester when lost in the forest of Mt. Lamentation.

According to Historian Stiles, Mr. Chester built a grist mill at Wethersfield in 1637, and tradition says that he was in search of a suitable site for this mill when he lost his bearings, and wandered for three days, while bis anxious neighbors, armed with drums, muskets, tin pans, tin pails and brass kettles, with anything and everything that could make a noise, searched for him.*

Some fine morning, should you join one of the processions of college boys who come to Berlin village by trolley, and head for the south, they will lead you on a tramp of three miles down past the old tollgate site and a little farther on the turnpike,

*A part of this chapter, dealing with the origin of the name of Mount Lamentation, called forth a criticism by Chas. H. Hollister, now deceased. In a letter to the Berlin News, dated March 7th, 1906, he writes:
"The article [by the Rev. Charles A. Goodrich] makes Mr. Chester out to be 'a derned fool.' In coming from Wethersfield to Mount Lamentation, he had to cross the creek at Rocky Hill, and again before he reached Mount Lamentation he would have to cross the Mattabessett River. In that early time he must have had to swim or wade, and being a thorough woodsman, why did he not follow the creek or river until he reached the Connecticut and then back to Wethersfield?"
No doubt it was Miss North's intention to let the reader determine the historical value of Mr. Goodrich's tale, and reproduced it as such.

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beyond the point where Old Colony Road branches off toward West Meriden, until in the distance appear three small houses, on the west side of the road. When within about sixty rods of the first house you will turn into a field and go eastward until you reach a projecting cliff at the base of Mount Lamentation.

This is the goal.

In the spring of 1887 Mr. William M. Davis of Harvard, who in 1877 began a careful geological survey of Connecticut, discovered at this place a very curious formation, which was pronounced to be of true volcanic origin.

At first it was called "Connecticut's Extinct Volcano," but Professor Davis submitted, as more appropriate, the name "Ash bed," which was adopted, and the locality is now known in the geological world as "The Meriden Ash Bed."

The deposit which, in general, is of a greenish gray color, shows a depth of about thirty feet. It consists of pitchstone, vitrified sand, angular fragments of trap and other materials, with bombs of dense trap, wrapped in rings of glass, rounded and flattened, interspersed at irregular intervals, all cemented together and technically called breccia.

What remains of the bed extends for an unknown distance under Lamentation, and thus has been protected. If, as is supposed, the original deposit covered an area of several square miles, it was long since worn away by erosion.

Lands composed of disintegrated trap are remarkable for fertility.

The theory at first advanced, after the discovery of the bed, was that the ashes and bombs were thrown there from above, from a central crater some distance away, spoken of, by a writer in the Connecticut Magazine for January, 1905, as a "mammoth volcano, a magnificent belcher, with tremendous force underneath, whose mouth vomited fire, ashes and melted rock." As one remarked, "When the eruption was going on, there must have been a great scurrying of the old reptiles, whose tracks were found on the sandstone beds at various points in the valley."

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Diligent and repeated search failed to reveal the exact locality of the possible grand central crater. If lost, it may be under the mountain.

The suggestion of a scientist from a neighboring town that it might be in the peat swamp, was scouted by other wise men.

The crater, if ever found, will be as a pipe or neck of lava, not as a cone. When it was announced that an extinct volcano had been discovered at Mount Lamentation, great interest was excited among geologists, and the "ash bed" was visited by hundreds of persons from Meriden, New Britain, and Middle-town, by classes from the colleges and schools, with their teachers, until a well-worn path was trodden from the road to the bluff. The Meriden Scientific Association, not content with a surface view, laid the rock open in places by the use of dynamite.

Ten years later Professor Davis wrote: "I have taken parties there every summer since then and I hope to do my share toward beating down that path for many years to come.

For several seasons this district was taken as one of the training grounds in field study, for the Harvard Summer School of Geology. Harvard, Yale, and Wesleyan students, with their professors, once united on an excursion to this locality. They left their trains at Meriden and walked along the turnpike to Lamentation, which they explored to the point where it terminates, over near East Berlin. There, Spruce Brook cuts a trench, and shows how the trap rock passes to the covering of sandstone. At the end of the day the company took trains for their homes from East Berlin station.

The truth must now be told, though it should conflict with the most interesting details of this description, even though it may destroy the picture in our imagination of fire balls shooting from "Old Fly" across the heavens to Lamentation. Scientists have, with reason, modified their views as to the origin of the breccia bed. Still it remains a fact that once on a time there were great "goings on" in this region. We are told that an arm of the sea came up from the south into Berlin,

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that rivers ran swiftly from an elevation of from 150 to 200 feet above sea level, and that a lake covered all of Middletown, Cromwell, and Berlin.

Some years since, when a well was dug on the Risley place, now owned by Mr. Roby, a bed of shells was unearthed.

Where there are rivers, or lakes, there will be sand and mud, and so here, layer after layer of sandstone was formed under water.

While the earth was cooling off outside, and the heat underneath was still sufficient to melt all known substances, there came a tremendous explosion of imprisoned steam, from the underground reservoir. At the same time a stream of molten trap was cast up through the sandstone. As the fluid rock spread, like a vast sheet, over the cold, wet surface, the lower part formed a thin, solid, glassy layer. Before the upper part had time to cool, another explosion of steam, with more melted rock, followed, which shattered the hardened layer of trap into fragments and forced them throughout the red hot mass above where they remained without melting again.

The whole sheet of trap was afterwards lifted, tilted to the east, and broken apart, so that what now appears as the face, is the broken edge, and this is the latest theory of the formation of the "Meriden Ash Bed." It all happened ages ago— millions of years we are told, but its history written so plainly, by the hand of the Almighty, on this cliff lies an open page, so that, not "he who runs," but he who studies may read.

We must not linger too long at the "ash bed." Mount Lamentation is a great sheet of trap and there are other interesting localities. On our way back to the trolley we shall wish to visit a mud volcano about half a mile farther north high up on the mountain, over in Berlin.

The "ash bed" is not in the least like a bank of coal ashes, and neither has the "mud volcano" the look of a mud hole. Professor B. K. Emerson of Amherst describes it thus:

"The place is on the same trap ridge and may be found by going north from the last locality along the Berlin turnpike to the point where a road comes in from the southwest.

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Opposite this road a wood road runs east to the ridge, and going a few rods north one comes to a fine point of view of the lake to the west, where beacon fires have been built. Directly beneath in the bluff is a rock shelter, and the southern wall of this is the south wall of the throat to be described. The explosive force of the steam at the base of the trap sheet has formed the same brecciated agglomerate as before, but has here forced its way through the whole thickness of the trap sheet in a throat three rods wide and flowed out on the surface as a submarine mud volcano. The walls of the throat are clearly exposed. At the lowest point visible the trap is rudely columnar and compact. This is plainly the undisturbed surface of a normal lava flow.

The mass that rises in the throat and spreads over the lava sheet has all the peculiarities of the breccia farther south.

It contains the rounded, bomb-like trap blocks, isolated blocks of indurated white sandstone containing blebs of pitchstone and rounded by abrasion, blocks of scoriaceous red sandstone, also containing pitchstone and fragments of jet black, finegrained basal trap, often full of the long steam tubes which are usually found at the bottom of the trap, together with various other trap varieties. The whole is cemented by glass.

It rises over the lips of the throat and flows southward. The breccia can be followed north about thirty rods. I traced it south about forty rods. It is doubtless continuous with the two thin layers of tuff in the sandstone above the trap east of the ash bed."

"Altogether a very instructive locality," say the scientists, and classes under their direction, obtain, from one day's visit at Mount Lamentation, a clearer idea of conditions, far back, when the mighty forces of flood, fire and steam were at work giving shape to the earth's crust, than from many months' study of books.

Professor William North Rice of Wesleyan University is about to publish a work descriptive of the rocks and cliffs of this region, and those who wish to know more of the subject may do well to consult that publication.

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On Mount Lamentation is a famous soft rock, its length of about forty feet covered from end to end with inscriptions— carved with jackknives—names of generation after generation of Berlin boys and girls who thus immortalized themselves.

The outside of the rock seems to have hardened in recent years, but the inside is still quite soft. The best way to approach it is to take the mountain road at the Jarvis farm, and follow the path southerly about a mile.

The rock is on the very top of the ridge, about half-way between the E. C. Hall house and the old Abram Wright place and can be seen from the turnpike.

One day two village lads, Charley Sage and Charley Warren, went up to cut their names on the rock. Charley Sage's father was a stonecutter; to save his jackknife and make a better job he carried along his father's mallet and chisel. When the chisel broke, he looked at it sadly and remarked, "I don't know what my father will say to me now."

On the southern slope of the mountain, back of Martin Dunham's, a stone marks the point where three counties meet, Middletown, New Haven, and Hartford.

Saturday, November 3, 1906, fifty-eight professors of geology and their pupils from Wellesley, Holyoke, and Smith colleges (ladies first), and from Harvard, Yale, and Wesleyan universities, came down at Spruce Brook, from the mountain, which they had followed all the way up from Meriden. They called on the Benson family, and one of its members carried some of the company over to the Berlin station. The work of the day had been quite satisfactory to the geologists, and many new places were discovered which showed volcanic action.

The most envied of the party, however, was the one who found a topaz, as large as a silver quarter. This souvenir is to be cut, to bring out its luster. The topaz is a valued gem, found usually in primitive rocks.