1894-09-12 The Morris Chronicle, Kissing the Bride

The New Lisbon Historian, Mrs. Virginia Schoradt, sent me this fragment of The Morris Chronicle from Sept. 12, 1894. The poem was written "for the Chronicle" in 1894 by Helen Blanche Adams of Afton, NY. As far as I can determine her mother, Samantha (Wheaton) Adams died in 1895. She died in Afton and was buried in her hometown of Killawog, Broome County, NY.

https://mollyscanopy.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/Birds-Eye-View-of-Ki...

She must have had a vivid imagination as she didn't marry until 1902, as noted near the top of column 2 of The Afton Enterprise attached below.

On Dec 20, 1899 The Morris Chronicle copied a report from The Afton Enterprise newspaper about Rev. George Adams, Universalist minister in Afton moving to Henderson, NY to serve in a church there. His daughter was going with him. See column 2 of the paper attached below. The Universalist Church in Henderson has wonderful stained glass windows.

https://hendersonnyhistoricalsociety.com/horwood-windows/

https://www.newyorkupstate.com/northern-ny/2017/09/a_day_in_henderson_ha...

In 1908 The Morris Chronicle noted that Blanche Adams had passed away at the early age of 33. See the bottom of column 2. She was buried in Henderson, NY.

https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/74628132/helen-blanche-whitney

In 1913 the sister of Blanche Adams Whitney, Mrs. V.J. Wallace brought Blanche's daughter, Elfa Lee Whitney to attend the Morris School. See column 2.

The scanned text is copied below in case reading the photograph is difficult.

Given the current COVID-19 pandemic is there any chance we would get back to such a wedding tradition that was already fading in 1894?

In 1893 Helen Blanche Adams was the valedictorian of the Morris Union School graduating class. I am attaching The Morris Chronicle that covered commencement for the school in 1893. Go to column 3 to read about the event.

The Morris Chronicle.
L. P. & E. E. CARPENTER,
PROPRIETORS,
Wednesday, September 12, 1894.

For the Chronicle:

KISSING THE BRIDE.

I stood one night 'mid a festal throng
In bridal garments white,
And of all the fair that gathered there
I was the queen that night.

They stood in silence around me
While the marriage vows were told,
Then they crowded gaily forward
With kisses-both young and old.

There were kisses fond and tender,
And kisses laughing and gay;
Some given calm and formal
But good wishes held full sway.

I can feel the warm caresses
To-day, on my wrinkled brow,
But one kiss on my cheek is sweetest
And best in my memory now!

Not for its strength of pressure
Nor for kindest wishes given
For a voyage on a peaceful ocean
Neath the blue of a cloudless heaven,

But for the look of the tear-stained eyes,
For the soft sigh with it blent:
For the silver hair, and the bending form,
And for what I knew they meant.

'Twas the echo of sounds departed
My mother's kiss that night:
'Twas the chime of a bell that should always
tell My way 'twixt wrong and right.

Many and fond were the kisses
Given that time to the bride;
But the kiss of my aged mother
Is dearer than all beside

Those sweet old days have vanished,
Now fashion rules the realm
And to kiss the bride "is vulgar,"
Though good wishes overwhelm.

But not for society's millions,
For fashion or pomp or might,
Would I barter that shower of kisses
I received on my wedding night.

Afton, NY. - Helen Blanche Adams