College Papers - "Moodus Noises" Nov. 1894

  

 


   English 22.

 Joseph A, Cone.

   First Year Special.

       Theme #4.

     Nov. 20, 1894.

Third Connected Theme

   An interesting theme,  though failing of its full effect by reason of poor arrangement  and unsure technique. The story of the doctor and his carbuncle is conspicuous  for injudicious arrangement. It should begin with the second sentence , or perhaps with the third  -  the substance of the second  coming is subor-

dinately.

    Rewrite

              W. U. Moody


 

 



                                                            “Moodus Noises”

 

Back from the Connecticut River about three miles, nestling among the Middlesex County hills, is the village of Moodus, famous for its  wonderful- “noises”. Just when the subterranean rumbling began no one can tell, (of course,) but in my grandfather’s time, say 1830, they were sure to occur biennially. and sometimes they came as often as twice a year. Beginning with a slight rumble, not unlike the drumming of a partridge, they would swell gradually into a terrific jar, Is this the   word? (causing man and beast to halt in wonder or terror as the case might be, ) then would die away as evenly and unbrokenly as they came. The first one that I remember happened when I was about nine years old. It was about four in the afternoon. I was frightened and ran to my mother. The whole house shook and creaked terribly, and the dishes on the pantry shelves rattled loudly for several moments Anti –   Climax, some of them crashing to the floor.

 Thoughts of volcanoes and earthquakes, such as I had seen pictured in school books, filled my mind, and it was some time before my mother could convince me it was merely a “Moodus Noise”, and consequently not to be feared. She had become used to them, while I had heard only Misplaced about them. A curious fact in connection with them is, that while they were so violent in the village they were scarcely noticed a mile or two away.

 Over west of the village rises a small mountain known as “Cave Hill”. On the western side of the slope, about half way to the summit, is the entrance to a cavern. For quite Inexact use a distance, in fact as far in as one can see, it is roofed over with solid stone. About twenty feet from the opening is a small passage hardly large enough to admit the body of a boy. This cave for many years has been a favorite retreat for burrowing animals, and many people believe this cavern to be the outlet of the famous “noises”. A young hunter once pursued a fox into the cave. After getting beyond the first narrow passage, he dug his way through several smaller openings and found a number of chambers several feet square, and sufficiently high to allow him to stand upright.   Nothing has ever been discovered, however, to lead one to suppose that “Cave Hill” and the “Moodus Noises” are in any way connected.

                                  Not  well  arranged  ¯  

There is an old and interesting tradition upon which much stress is placed laid by the more aged residents of this remote township. Still farther west of the village stands another mountain much larger than “Cave Hill”. It is called “Mount Tom”, and it is believed by many that the inside workings of this troubled ? mount are responsible for the “Moodus Noises”. The story goes that in George the Third’s time, a famous English doctor found his way up the Connecticut River, and turning off into a branch stream, named Salmon River, by the Machimoodus tribe of Indians, he discovered Mount Tom. He was on a searching  geological and mineralogical expedition for matters geological and mineral, and in the course of his experiments Word?, it is said, he unearthed a large carbuncle of untold value, which he bore off in triumph to England. The legend says that it was then that the troubled mutterings began and would never cease until “Mount Tom’ had received again to its bosom the precious gem.

A somewhat humorous incident is connected with the last shock, which was felt about three years ago. The writer, in a poem contributed to one of the leading Connecticut dailies endeavored to explain the cessation of the underground phenomena. He described the finding of the carbuncle by the famous doctor, and how when he got a few miles down the river it was lost overboard. This caused great rejoicing by on the part of the lonely Mount, and underground forces immediately set to work to draw the stone back to its native place.

This process, he said, consumed a vast number of years, and now that the “Moodus Noises” had ceased altogether, it was safe to suppose that the mountain had accomplished its purpose, and that another “Noise” would never be heard. A few days after the poem appeared a shockThis doesn’t imply sound., louder than had been heard for many years, shook the village, bringing a hearty laugh down upon the vainly prophetic poet. Meanwhile accounts of the famous “Noises” continue to go the rounds of the press. They Antecedent? have been told in story and sung in rhyme. Artists have reproduced the picturesque scenery upon their canvases, Scientists, and visitors and students have examined the interesting locality, but the real cause of the “Moodus Noises” remains as much a mystery as ever. Coherence

              ­

Forces of connection. No artists’ work would not tend to explain anything

 

 

 

 


  

 

 

           “Moodus Noises”

 

Back from the Connecticut River about three miles, nestling among the Middlesex County hills, is the pretty little village of Moodus, famous for its strange “noises”. Just when the subterranean rumbling began no one nowadays can tell, but in my grandfather’s time, say 1830, they were sure to occur biennially. and sometimes came as often as twice a year.

There is an old and interesting tradition upon which much stress is laid by many of the more aged residents of this remote township. A mile west of the village rises a somewhat high hill known as “Mount Tom”, and it is the inside workings of this commanding elevation which they believe to be responsible for the “Moodus Noises”.

The story goes that in George the Third’s time, a famous English doctor, named Clarke, found his way up the winding Connecticut, and discovering Mount Tom in the distance, he abandoned his intended course up the longer river and followed along this smaller stream, named Salmon River, by the Machimoodus tribe of Indians, and made his landing at the base of the mountain.

He was on a geological and mineralogical expedition, and in the course of his researches, it is said, he unearthed a large carbuncle, which he bore off in triumph to England.

The legend says that it was then that the disturbances began, and that they would never cease until the lonely Mount had received again to its bosom the precious gem.

Nearer to the village than Mount Tom, is a smaller mountain called “Cave Hill”. On the western side of its steep slope, about half way to the summit, is the dark entrance to a cavern. As far in as one can see it is roofed over with solid stone. About twenty feet from the opening is a small passage, hardly large enough to admit the body of a small boy. This cave for many years has been a favorite retreat for burrowing animals, and many people believe it to be the outlet of the famous “Noises”. A young hunter once pursued a fox into the cave. After getting beyond the first narrow passage, he dug his way through several smaller openings and found a number of chambers, several feet square, and sufficiently high to allow him to stand upright. That the cave had been used by Indians was proven by numerous relics which were found on the floors and shelving rocks, but nothing has ever been discovered, however, to lead one to suppose that “Cave Hill” and the “Moodus Noises” are in any way connected.

The first noise that I can recall happened when I was about nine years of age. It began with a slight rumble, not unlike the drumming of a partridge, then swelled gradually into a terrific roll, rocking and quivering the very floors beneath my feet. Dishes rattled upon the shelves, and the house creaked frightfully. It lasted, however, but a few seconds, and the sound died away as evenly as it came. But I was frightened, and ran to my mother. Thoughts of volcanoes and earthquakes such as I had seen pictured in school books filled my mind, and it was some time before my mother could convince me that it was merely a “Moodus Noise”, consequently not to be feared. She had become used to them.

A somewhat humorous incident is connected with the last disturbance which occurred about three years ago. None having been felt for several years previous to this time, the writer in a poem contributed to one of the leading Connecticut weeklies, endeavored to explain the cessation or the underground phenomena. He described at great length the finding of the carbuncle by the doctor, and how when he got a few miles down the river it was lost overboard.

This caused great rejoicing on the part of the lonely Mount, and underground forces immediately set to work to draw the stone back to its native place. This process, he said, consumed a vast number of years, and now that the “Moodus Noises” had ceased altogether, it was safe to suppose that the mountain had accomplished its purpose and that another disturbance would never be felt. A few days after the poem appeared a rumbling louder than had been heard for many years startled the village, bringing a hearty laugh down upon the vainly prophetic poet. Meanwhile accounts of the famous “Noises” continue to go the rounds of the press. It has been told in story and sung in rhyme. Scientists, students and tourists have examined the interesting locality, and still the real cause of the “Moodus Noises” remains as much a mystery as ever.


 

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