Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

William McCarty, comp. The American National Song Book. 1842.

The Frogs of Windham

An old colony tale—founded on fact

By Arion

From the Providence Gazette

“Much pleasantry,” says Mr. Barber, “has been indulged at the expense of the inhabitants of Windham, on account of a singular occurrence which happened in the year 1758, by which the inhabitants were very much frightened. There is probably some exaggeration in the account, though the foundation of the story is believed to be a matter of fact.” We copy it as an amusing relic.

“On a dark, cloudy, dismal night in the month of July, A.D. 1758, the inhabitants of Windham, a small town in the eastern part of Connecticut, had retired to rest, and for several hours, all were wrapped in profound repose—when suddenly, soon after midnight, the slumbers of the peaceful inhabitants were disturbed by a most terrific noise in the sky right over their heads, which to many seemed the yells and screeches of infuriated Indians, and others had no other way of accounting for the awful sounds, which still kept increasing, but by supposing the day of judgment had certainly come; and to their terrified imaginations, the awful uproar in the air seemed the immediate precursor of the clangor of the last trumpet. At intervals, many supposed they could distinguish the calling out of particular names, as of Colonels Dyer and Elderkin, two eminent lawyers, and this increased the general terror. But soon there was a rush from every house, the tumult in the air still increasing—old and young, male and female, poured forth into the streets, “in puris naturalibus,” entirely forgetful, in their hurry and consternation, of their nether habiliments, and with eyes upturned tried to pierce the almost palpable darkness. Some daring “spirits,” concluding there was nothing supernatural in the hubbub and uproar over head, but rather, that they heard the yells of Indians commencing a midnight attack, loaded their guns and sallied forth to meet the invading foes. These valiant heroes, on ascending the hill that bounds the village on the east, perceived that the sounds came from that quarter, and not from the skies, as first believed, but their courage would not permit them to proceed to the daring extremity of advancing eastward, until they had discovered the real cause of alarm and distress, which pervaded the whole village. Towards morning the sounds in the air seemed to die away. In the morning, the whole cause of alarm, which produced such distressing apprehensions among the good people of the town, was apparent to all who took the trouble to go to a certain mill pond, situated about three-fourths of a mile eastward of the village. This pond, hereafter, in the annals of Fame, forever to be called the Frog Pond, in consequence of a severe drought, which had prevailed many weeks, had become nearly dry, and the bull frogs (by which it was densely populated) at the mill fought a pitched battle on the sides of the ditch which ran through it, for the possession and enjoyment of the fluid which remained. Long and obstinately was the contest maintained; and many thousands of the combatants were found defunct, on both sides of the ditch, the next morning. It had been uncommonly still, for several hours before the battle commenced, but suddenly, as if by a preconcerted agreement, every frog on one side of the ditch raised the war cry, Col. Dyer, Col. Dyer, and at the same instant, from the opposite side, resounded the adverse shout of Elderkin too, Elderkin too. Owing to some peculiar state of the atmosphere, the awful noises and cries appeared to the distressed Windhamite to be directly over their heads.”

WHEN these free states were colonies

Unto the mother nation;

And, in Connecticut, the good

Old Blue Laws were in fashion.

A circumstance which there occurr’d,

(And much the mind surprises

Upon reflection,) then gave rise

To many strange surmises.

You all have seen, as I presume,

Or had a chance to see,

Those strange amphibious quadrupeds,

Call’d bull-frogs commonly.

Well, in Connecticut ’tis said,

By those who make pretensions

To truth; those creatures often grow

To marvellous dimensions.

One night in July, ’58,

They left their home behind ’em,

Which was an oak and chestnut swamp,

About five miles from Windham.

The cause was this:—the summer’s sun

Had dried their pond away there

So shallow, that to save their souls

The bull-frogs could not stay there.

So in a regiment they hopp’d,

With many a curious antic,

Along the road which led unto

The river Minnomantic.

Soon they in sight of Windham came;

All in high perspiration,

And held their course straight towards the same,

With loud vociferation.

You know such kind of creatures are

By nature quite voracious;

Thus they, impell’d by hunger, were

Remarkably loquacious.

Up flew the windows, one and all,

And then with ears erected

From every casement, gaping rows

Of night-capp’d heads projected.

The children cried, the women scream’d,

“O, Lord have mercy on us!

The French have come to burn us out!

And now are close upon us.”

A few, upon the first alarm,

Then arm’d themselves to go forth

Against the foe, with guns and belts,

Shot, powder-horns, and so forth.

Soon, all were running here and there,

In mighty consternation;

Resolving of the town to make

A quiet evacuation.

Away they went across the lots,

Hats, caps, and wigs were scatter’d;

And heads were broke, and shoes were lost;

Shins bruised, and noses batter’d.

Thus having gained a mile or two,

These men of steady habits,

All snug behind an old stone wall

Lay, like a nest of rabbits.

And in this state, for half an hour

With jaws an inch asunder,

They thought upon their goods at home,

Exposed to lawless plunder.

They thought upon their hapless wives,

Their meeting-house, and cattle;

And then resolved to sally forth

And give the Frenchmen battle.

Among the property which they

Had brought with them to save it,

Were found two trumpets and a drum,

Just as good luck would have it.

Fifteen or twenty Jews-harps then

Were found in good condition,

And all the longest winded men

Were put in requisition.

Straightway, in long and loud alarm,

Said instruments were clang—ed,

And the good old one hundredth psalm

From nose and Jews-harp twang—ed.

Such as were arm’d, in order ranged,

The music in the centre—

Declared they would not run away,

But on the French would venture.

There might have been among them all,

Say twenty guns or over—

How many pitchforks, scythes, and flails,

I never could discover.

The rest agreed to close the rear,

After some intercession,

And altogether made a queer

And curious procession.

Some were persuaded that they saw

The band of French marauders;

And not a few declared they heard

The officers give orders.

These words could be distinguish’d then,

“Dyer,” “Elderkin,” and “Tete,”

And when they heard the last, they thought

The French desired a treaty.

So three good, sober-minded men

Were chosen straight to carry

Terms to the French, as Ministers

Plenipotentiary.

Those, moving on with conscious fear,

Did for a hearing call,

And begg’d a moment’s leave to speak

With the French general.

The advancing foe an answer made,

But (it was quite provoking)

Not one of them could understand

The language it was spoke in.

So there they stood in piteous plight,

’Twas ludicrous to see;

Until the bull-frogs came in sight,

Which shamed them mightily.

Then all went home, right glad to save

Their property from pillage;

And all agreed to shame the men

Who first alarm’d the village.

Some were well pleased, and some were mad,

Some turn’d it off in laughter;

And some would never speak a word

About the thing thereafter.

Some vow’d, if Satan came at last,

They did not mean to flee him;

But if a frog they ever pass’d,

Pretended not to see him.

God save the State of Rhode Island

And Providence plantations;

May we have ever at command

“Good clothing, pay, and rations.”

One good old rule, avoiding strife,

I’ve followed since my youth—

To always live an upright life,

And tell the downright truth.