Shadowy figures from the grave
A great multitude of hearty souls, brave pioneers and plordinary folks alike have lived and died in Warrensburgh since the first settler, William Bond, appeared 227 years ago on what was then a mere plot in the vast and silent forest.
Most of them were born, lived out their span and then died, leaving no trace of their existence. Some left gravestones while many could not afford such a luxury. It is rare indeed to have a name of a family who has long ago passed to the other side to appear once again on this side of the vast black curtain of time. Such a name is Stackhouse.
In the Warrensburgh Museum is a handwritten book once belonging to Issabella C. Thompson of Moreau. She apparently passed it around to her friends and requested them to write poetry for her to remember them by. Many entries are as early as 1827. The script is so flowery and the writing so faded that it is difficult to read. There are entries from Moreau, Fort Miller, Northumberland, Easton and Warrensburgh.
On the first page is a poem written in Warrensburgh on June 13, 1835 entitled "The Grave." It reads, "Not all the wealth the Indies boast, not all the earth's enchanting bloom. No sea - No scene, nor conquering host, can save a mortal from the tomb." It is signed, G.R. Stackhouse.
The missive continues, "What is friendship but a name that calls us all to sleep. A shade that follows wealth or fame and leaves the wretch to weep."
Alice Stackhouse wrote an entry titled Spring.
"The lovely spring, the joyous spring, comes over our clime again, a welcome to its blossoming, its fleet but smiling reign. I wish, I wish but oh! I dare not say, the warmest wish to thee. I wish that thine hours might fleet away, as sun beams on the dark blue sea."