Whereas Jerusha my wife…

Transcription:

Whereas Jerusha my Wife, deluded by her old wicked mother, and her descendants in the family, as to cause the said Jerusha, to be seduced, by an old illiterate villanous imposter of the [mohegan?] choir who styled himself Doctor Quack Charon, whom we may conjecture was drowned at the time of Noah’s flood, & who not long since has made his appearance from Orcus, & and entered into a certain family, with a huge bundle of Roots and a number of Jew’s-harps, to reach the art of necromancy in said family, and who by his magic art, and the assistance of his good old aunt who for several years has been troubled with the hypochrondria, catarrh or dripping of the brains, and all smuggling together, has caused said Jerusha to make a misstep, and wickedly transgress against the laws of God and man, and to break the seventh commandment, as the old necromancer has left a living testimony in the family, as a proof thereof, for which reasons of guilt and shame, and the penality of the law, the said Jerusha has deserted my bed and board without any just cause of mine, and has fled into the state of Newyork to complete her studies with a Lady who has followed the art of coquetry for several years I therefore forbid any person or persons harboring or trusting her on the penalty of the law, as I will pay no debts of her contracting after this date.
SAMUEL DWIGHT
Arlington, July 16th, 1800

(as published in the Vermont Gazette, August 4, 1800)

The legacy of Castleton’s Calvin Coolidge Library

Originally published in the Times Argus/Rutland Herald Weekend Magazine, February 25, 2023 for the “Remember When” column with the title, The Right to Read and Savor.

This article was written in response to a plan to remove the majority of books from Vermont State College’s libraries. This terrible idea was — thankfully — eventually abandoned.

“A library is the nucleus of an educational facility… a college can only be as good as its library.” — Castleton State College Long Range Objectives Report, 1976 

Students studying at Castleton State College’s Calvin Coolidge library in 1958

Last week I drove over to Castleton to my alma mater. I walked through campus, stepping over the plaques embedded in the path, each engraved with a name of the school, from Rutland County Grammar School in 1787 to today’s Castleton University. Even thirty years after I graduated, this still feels like home. Pushing open the door into the Calvin Coolidge library, I was filled with the same mixed sense of calm, comfort, and excitement as I had as a student. Surrounded by the intangible presence of knowledge, I spent many hours here studying, researching, browsing—learning who I was and wanted to be. 

Michele, one of the incredibly helpful and knowledgeable Castleton librarians, showed me into the Vermont Room where the information I needed for this column is stored in file boxes, on shelves, and safely behind glass (including a green bound copy of my own History Honors thesis). There I sat for a few hours—and wanted to stay for many more—carefully leafing through the ephemera, much of which is priceless (and un-digitizable) pieces of Castleton’s—and Vermont’s—history: two hundred-year-old log books, one hundred-year-old course catalogs, faded photographs of Mercel-permed students, and mimeographed letters from the 1960s. 

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