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to lounge about and eat up the hard-earned bread of honest industry.

“Here eyes do regard them,
   In eternity’s stillness,
   Here is all fullness,
   Ye brave, to reward you,
   Work and despair not.”

    It happened, a few years after the settlers came in, there was a failure of crops. There was but one man in town who had corn in his crib, our old friend, Maj. Samuel Jones, who was a man of wealth and influence, living on South Road, west of Beaver Brook. He was a kind man, considerate to his poor neighbors, to many of whom he gave employment. It is related that Col. Ezekiel Wells, also a man of wealth and influence, went to the major to purchase corn, confident that his social position was such as to bar a refusal, and thus he would save the trouble of going to Lebanon. But the major was inexorable. He replied: “Colonel, you have a good horse and plenty of money, and can get your corn with but little personal inconvenience. I want a good deal of work done, and these neighbors of mine have nothing else to pay for my corn. It wouldn’t be right for me to sell you my corn and send these men all the way over to Lebanon on foot. No, Colonel, can’t do it, we must help one another.” Colonel Wells was an irascible and profane man, but the major was not moved thereby. Returning home, the colonel stopped a moment at a place where young Thomas Baldwin was hewing timber and made this remark: “By God, I wish I was a devil.” Thomas stopped his work, and looking at the colonel quietly replied: “Put your foot upon this log and I'll make a devil of you at one blow of the axe.”