He bow'd, talk'd politics, learn'd manners mild;
Most meekly question'd, and most smoothly smil'd;
At rich men's jests laugh'd loud, their stories prais'd;
Their wives' new patterns gaz'd, and gaz'd, and
gaz'd;

Most daintily on pamper'd turkies din'd;

Nor shrunk with fasting, nor with study pin'd:
Yet from their churches saw his brethren driven,
Who thunder'd truth, and spoke the voice of heaven,
Chill'd trembling guilt, in Satan's headlong path,
Charm'd the feet back, and rous'd the ear of death.
"Let fools," he cried, "starve on, while prudent I
Snug in my nest shall live, and snug shall die."*

The picture of the good divine in Greenfield Hill, the opposite of this rough outline, is highly pleasing.

When the malignant review of Inchiquin's Letters appeared in the (London) Quarterly for Jan. 1814, its bitterness and contempt were so unsparing and its falsehood so gross, that Dwight, though its abuse was partly directed against Jefferson and others whom he did not hold in particular favor, thought it necessary to reply. His work, an octavo of one hundred and seventy-six pages, was entitled, Remarks on the Review of Inchiquin's Letters, published in the Quarterly Review; addressed to the Right Honorable George Canning, Esq., by an Inhabitant of New England; and was published in Boston in 1815. It carries the war into Africa, contrasting every defect urged against America with a corresponding iniquity in England, and exonerating his countrymen from many of the charges as utterly unfounded. It meets the reviler with language as loud and with facts severer than his own. It shows that under his polished exterior the fires of his youth still glowed in the college President.

Greenfield Hill is an idyllic poem of rare merit. A little more nicety of execution and a better comprehension of the design at the outset, would doubtless have improved it; but the spirit is there. It is noticeable that it was undertaken as an imitation or adaptation of different English poets; but the author found the labor of pursuing this plan too great, and fell off, or rather rose to original invention. This has often happened in English literature, and some of the best successes are due to this effort, which the genius of the writer has soon transcended; as in the Castle of Indolence and the Splendid Shilling, to which may be added Trumbull's M'Fingal. Thus Dwight, commencing with Beattie and Goldsmith, soon runs into measures and incidents of his own; or turns the contrast of American manners to happy account, as in his picture of "the Flourishing Village" of Greenfield, where he finds in the allotment of estates and the absence of manorial privileges, the opposite of "the Deserted Village." The general plan of the poem is thus sketched by the author in his "Introduction:"

In the Parish of Greenfield, in the town of Fairfield, in Connecticut, there is a pleasant and beautiful eminence, called Greenfield Hill; at the distance of three miles from Long Island Sound. On this eminence, there is a small but handsome village, a church, academy, &c., all of them alluded to in the fol

*The Triumph of Infidelity was never acknowledged by the anthor, but never denied by him. It was well understood to be from his pen.

lowing poem. From the highest part of the eminence, the eye is presented with an extensive and delightful prospect of the surrounding country, and of the Sound. On this height, the writer is supposed to stand. The first object, there offering itself to his view, is the landscape; which is accordingly made the governing subject of the first part of the Poem. The flourishing and happy condition of the inhabitants very naturally suggested itself next; and became of course the subject of the Second Part. The town of Fairfield, lying in full view, and, not long before the poem was begun and in a great measure written out, burnt by a party of British troops, under the command of Governor Tryon, furnished the theme of the Third Part. A field, called the Pequod Swamp, in which most of the warriors of that nation who survived the invasion of their country by Capt. Mason, were destroyed, lying about three miles from the eminence above-mentioned, and on the margin of the Sound, suggested, not unnaturally, the subject of the Fourth Part.

As the writer is the minister of Greenfield, he cannot be supposed to be uninterested in the welfare of his parishioners. To excite their attention to the truths and duties of religion (an object in such a situation instinctively rising to his view) is the design of the Fifth Part; and to promote in them just sentiments and useful conduct, for the present life, (an object closely connected with the preceding one) of the Sixth.

The landscape, the characters, and the ideas of the poem are American; the language in a few instances belongs to English poets; but the author has handsomely acknowledged the obligation in his notes. Of the more characteristic portions, the description of the school, the affectionate picture of the village clergyman, the Indian war, the Connecticut farmer's prudential maxims, with the whole scope of the political reflections, are purely American.

Several members of the Dwight family have appeared as authors. The brother of the President, Theodore Dwight, occupied for a long time a distinguished part in the affairs of the country. He was born at Northampton in 1765, and studied law after the Revolution with his uncle Judge Pierpont Edwards. He had a hand in the poetiford Mercury, in common with Hopkins and cal and political essays of the Echo, in the HartAlsop. He was an eminent Federalist, and was chosen the secretary of the Hartford Convention. In 1815, he commenced the Albany Daily Advertiser with the support of the leading politicians of his party in the state; and in 1817 engaged in the publication and editorship of the New York Daily Advertiser, which he continued till 1835, when he retired to Hartford. In 1833, his History of the Hartford Convention appeared at New York; and in 1839, his Character of Thomas Jefferson as exhibited in his own writings, at Boston-a book of a partisan political character. He died June 11, 1846.

His son, Theodore Dwight, is the author of a History of Connecticut, in 1841, and of a volume on the Revolution of 1848. He is a resident of New York.

In 1829, a son of the president, Henry E. Dwight, published a volume in New York of Travels in the North of Germany, in the years 1825 and 1826; presenting "a view of the religious, literary, and political institutions of north

COLUMBIA.

Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise,

The queen of the world, and child of the skies!
Thy genius commands thee; with rapture behold,
While ages on ages thy splendours unfold.
Thy reign is the last, and the noblest of time,
Most fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy clime;
Let the crimes of the east ne'er encrimson thy name,
Be freedom, and science, and virtue, thy fame.
To conquest, and slaughter, let Europe aspire:
Whelm nations in blood, and wrap cities in fire:
Thy heroes the rights of mankind shall defend,
And triumph pursue them, and glory attend.
A world is thy realm: for a world be thy laws,
Enlarg'd as thine empire, and just as thy cause;
On Freedom's broad basis, that empire shall rise,
Extend with the main, and dissolve with the skies.
Fair Science her gates to thy sons shall unbar,
And the east see thy morn hide the beams of her star.
New bards, and new sages, unrival'd shall soar
To fame unextinguish'd when time is no more;
To thee, the last refuge of virtue design'd,
Shall fly from all nations the best of mankind;
Here, grateful to heaven, with transport shall bring
Their incense, more fragrant than odours of spring.
Nor less shall thy fair ones to glory ascend,
And Genius and Beauty in harmony blend;
The graces of form shall awake pure desire,
And the charms of the soul ever cherish the fire;
Their sweetness unmingled, their manners refin'd,
And Virtue's bright image instamp'd on the mind,
With peace and soft rapture shall teach life to glow,
And light up a smile in the aspect of woe.
Thy fleets to all regions thy pow'r shall display,
The nations admire, and the oceans obey;
Each shore to thy glory its tribute unfold,

And the east and the south yield their spices and gold.

As the day-spring unbounded, thy splendour shall flow,

And earth's little kingdoms before thee shall bow;
While the ensigns of union, in triumph unfurl'd,
Hush the tumult of war, and give peace to the world.
Thus, as down a lone valley, with cedars o'erspread,
From war's dread confusion I pensively stray'd-
The gloom from the face of fair heav'n retir'd;
The winds ceas'd to murmur; the thunders expir'd;
Perfumes, as of Eden, flow'd sweetly along,
And a voice, as of angels, enchantingly sung:
'Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise,

The queen of the world, and the child of the skies."

THE TRAVELLED APE-FROM AN EPISTLE TO COL. HUMPHREYS, 1785.

Oft has thine eye, with glance indignant seen
Columbia's youths, unfolding into men,
Their minds to improve, their manners to adorn,
To Europe's climes by fond indulgence borne;
Oft hast thou seen those youths, at custom's shrine,
Victims to pride, to folly, and to sin,
Of worth bereft, of real sense forlorn,

Their land forget, their friends, their freedom, spurn;
Each noble cause, each solid good desert

The plain, frank manners of their race despise,
Fair without fraud, and great without disguise;
Where, thro' the life the heart uncover'd ran,
And spoke the native dignity of man.

For these, the gain let Virtue blush to hear,
And each sad parent drop the plaintive tear!
Train'd in foul stews, impoison'd by the stage,
Hoyl'd into gaming, Keyser'd into age,
To smooth hypocrisy by Stanhope led,
To truth an alien, and to virtue dead,
Swoln with an English butcher's sour disdain,
Or to a fribble dwindled from a man,
Homeward again behold the jackdaw run,
And yield his sire the ruins of a son!

What tho' his mind no thought has e'er perplex'd,
Converse illum'd, or observations vex'd;
Yet here, in each debate, a judge he shines,
Of all, that man enlarges, or refines;
Religion, science, politics, and song;

A prodigy his parts; an oracle his tongue.
Ope wide your mouths; your knees in homage bend,
Hist! hist! ye mere Americans attend;
While Curl discloses to the raptur'd view
What Peter, Paul, and Moses, never knew;
The light of new-born wisdom sheds abroad,
And adds a leanto to the word of God.
What Creole wretch shall dare, with home-made
foils,

Attack opinions, brought three thousand miles;
Sense, in no common way to mortals given,
But on Atlantic travellers breath'd by Heaven;
A head, en queue, by Monsieur Frizzle dress'd;
Manners, a Paris tailor's arts invest;
Pure criticism, form'd from acted plays;
And graces, that would even a Stanhope grace?
Commercial wisdom, merchants here inhale

From him, whose eye hath seen the unfinish'd bale; Whose feet have pass'd the shop, where pins were sold,

The wire was silver'd, and the heads were roll!
Conven'd, ye lawyers, make your humblest leg!
Here stands the man has seen Lord Mansfield's wig!
Physicians hush'd, hear Gaien's lips distil,
From Buchan's contents, all the Art to heal!
Divines, with reverence, cease your Scripture whims,
And learn this male Minerva's moral schemes;
Schemes theologie found in Drury-lane,
That prove the Bible false, and virtue vain!
Heavens! shall a child in learning, and in wit,
O'er Europe's climes, a bird of passage flit;
There, as at home, his stripling self unknown,
By novel wonders stupified to stone,
Shut from the wise, and by no converse taught,
No well-read day, nor hour of serious thought,
His head by pleasure, vice, and hurry, turn'd,
All prudence trampled, all improvements spurn'd;
Shall he, with less of Europe in his cap,
Than satchell'd school-boy guesses from the map,
On every subject struttingly decree,
Ken the far shore, and search the unfathom'd sea,
Where learning has her lamp for ages oil'd,
Where Newton ponders, and where Berkeley toil'd?
Of all the plagues, that rise in human shape,
Good Heaven, preserve us from the travell'd Apei

FALL OF EMPIRE-FROM GREENFIELD HILL

Ah me! while up the long, long vale of time, Reflection wanders towards th' eternal vast, How starts the eye, at many a change sublime, Unbosom'd dimly by the ages pass'd!

What Mausoleums crowd the mournful waste!

An awkward addition to a dwelling-house, very corne in New England.

Soon fleets the sunbright Form, by man ador’d.
Soon fell the Head of gold, to Time a prey;

The Arms, the Trunk, his cankering tooth devour'd:
And whirlwinds blew the Iron 'ust away.
Where dwelt imperial Timur?-far astray,
Some lonely-musing pilgrim now enquires:
And, rack'd by storms, and hastening to decay,
Mohammed's Mosque foresees its final fires;
And Rome's more lordly Temple day by day expires.
As o'er proud Asian realms the traveller winds,
His manly spirit, hush'd by terror, falls;
When some deceased town's lost site he finds,
Where ruin wild his pondering eye appals;
Where silence swims along the moulder'd walls,
And broods upon departed Grandeur's tomb.
Through the lone, hollow aisles sad Echo calls,
At each slow step: deep sighs the breathing gloom,
And weeping fields, around, bewail their Empress'
doom.

Where o'er an hundred realms, the throne uprose,
The screech-owl nests, the panther builds his home;
Sleep the dull newts, the lazy adders doze,
Where pomp and luxury danc'd the golden room.
Low lies in dust the sky-resembled dome;
Tall grass around the broken column waves;
And brambles climb, and lonely thistles bloom;
The moulder'd arch the weedy streamlet laves,
And low resound, beneath, unnumber'd sunken
graves.

Soon fleets the sun-bright Form, by man ador'd;
And soon man's dæmon chiefs from memory fade.
In musty volume, now must be explor'd,
Where dwelt imperial nations, long decay'd.
The brightest meteors angry clouds invade;
And where the wonders glitter'd, none explain.
Where Carthage, with proud hand, the trident
sway'd,

Now mud-wall'd cots sit sullen on the plain,

And wandering, fierce, and wild, sequester'd Arabs reign.

In thee, O Albion! queen of nations, live Whatever splendours earth's wide realms have known;

In thee proud Persia sees her pomp revive;

And Greece her arts; and Rome her lordly throne:
By every wind, thy Tyrian fleets are blown;
Supreme, on Fame's dread roll, thy heroes stand;
All ocean's realms thy naval sceptre own;
Of bards, of sages, how august thy band!

And one rich Eden blooms around thy garden'd land. But O how vast thy crimes! Through heav'n's great year,

When few centurial suns have trac'd their way;
When southern Europe, worn by feuds severe;
Weak, doting, fallen, has bow'd to Russian sway;
And setting Glory beam'd her farewell ray;
To wastes, perchance, thy brilliant fields shall turn;
In dust, thy temples, towers, and towns decay;
The forest howl, where London's turrets burn;
And all thy garlands deck thy sad, funereal urn.
Some land, scarce glimmering in the light of fame,
Scepter'd with arts and arms (if I divine),
Some unknown wild, some shore without a name,
In all thy pomp, shall then majestic shine.
As silver-headed Time's slow years decline,
Not ruins only meet th' enquiring eye:

Where round yon mouldering oak vain brambles twine,

The filial stem, already towering high,

Erelong shall stretch his arms, and nod in yonder sky.

BOUND OF AMERICAN LIFE FROM GREENFIELD HILL.

In this New World, life's changing round, In three descents, is often found. The first, firm, busy, plodding, poor, Earns, saves, and daily swells, his store; By farthings first, and pence, it grows; In shillings next, and pounds, it flows; Then spread his widening farms, abroad; His forests wave; his harvests nod; Fattening, his numerous cattle play, And debtors dread his reckoning day. Ambitious then t'adorn with knowledge His son, he places him at college; And sends, in smart attire, and neat, To travel, thro' each neighbouring state; Builds him a handsome house, or buys, Sees him a gentleman, and dies.

The second, born to wealth and ease, And taught to think, converse, and please Ambitious, with his lady-wife,

Aims at a higher walk of life.

Yet, in those wholesome habits train'd,
By which his wealth, and weight, were gain'd,
Bids care in hand with pleasure go,
And blends economy with show.
His houses, fences, garden, dress,
The neat and thrifty man confess.
Improv'd, but with inprovement plain,
Intent on office, as on gain,
Exploring, useful sweets to spy,
To public life he turns his eye.
A townsman first; a justice soon;
A member of the house anon;
Perhaps to board, or bench, invited,
He sees the state, and subjects, righted;
And, raptur'd with politic life,
Consigns his children to his wife.
Of household cares amid the round,
For her, too hard the task is found.
At first she struggles, and contends;
Then doubts, desponds, laments, and bends;
Her sons pursue the sad defeat,
And shout their victory complete;
Rejoicing, see their father roam,
And riot, rake, and reign, at home,
Too late he sees, and sees to mourn,
His race of every hope forlorn,
Abroad, for comfort, turns his eyes,
Bewails his dire mistakes, and dies.
His heir, train'd only to enjoy,
Untaught his mind, or hands t' employ,
Conscious of wealth, enough for life,
With business, care, and worth, at strife,
By prudence, conscience, unrestrain'd,
And none, but pleasure's habits, gain'd,
Whirls on the wild career of sense,
Nor danger marks, nor heeds expense.
Soon ended is the giddy round;
And soon the fatal goal is found.
'His lands, secur'd for borrow'd gold,
His houses, horses, herds, are sold.
And now, no more for wealth respected,
He sinks, by all his friends neglected:
Friends, who, before, his vices flatter' 1,
And liv'd upon the loaves he scatter',
Unacted every worthy part,
And pining with a broken heart,
To dirtiest company he flies

Whores, gambles, turns a sot, and dies.
His children born to fairer doom,
In rags, pursue him to the tomb.

Apprentic'd then to masters stern,
Some real good the orphans learn;
Are bred to toil, and hardy fare,
And grow to usefulness, and care;
And, following their great-grandsire's plan,
Each slow becomes a useful man.

Such here is life's swift-circling round; So soon are all its changes found, Would you prevent th' allotment hard, And fortune's rapid whirl retard, In all your race, industrious care Attentive plant, and faithful rear: With life, th' important task begin, Nor but with life, the task resiga; To habit, bid the blessings grow, Habits alone yield good below.

THE VILLAGE CLERGYMAN-FROM GREENFIELD HILL.

Where western Albion's happy clime
Still brightens to the eye of time,
A village lies. In all his round,

The sun a fairer never found.

The woods were tall, the hillocks green,
The vallies laugh'd the hills between,
Thro' fairy meads the rivers roll'd,
The meadows flower'd in vernal gold,
The days were bright, the mornings fair,
And evening lov'd to linger there.
There, twinn'd in brilliant fields above,
Sweet sisters! sported Peace and Love;
While Virtue, like a blushing bride,
Seren'd, and brighten'd, at their sile.

At distance from that happy way,
The path of sensual Pleasure lay,
Afar Ambition's summit rose,
And Avarice dug his mine of woes.

The place, with east and western sides,
A wide and verdant street divides:
And here the houses fac'd the day,
And there the lawns in beauty lay.
There, turret-crown'd, and central, stood
A neat, and solemn house of God,
Across the way, beneath the shade,
Two elms with sober silence spread,
The Preacher liv'd. O'er all the place
His mansion cast a Sunday grace;
Dumb stillness sate the fields around;
His garden seem'd a hallow'd ground;
Swains ceas'd to laugh aloud, when near,
And school-boys never sported there.

In the same mild and temperate zone,
Twice twenty years, his course had run,
His locks of flowing silver spread,
A crown of glory o'er his head.
His face, the image of his mind,
With grave, and furrow'd wisdom shin'd;
Not cold; but glowing still, and bright;
Yet glowing with October light:
As evening blends, with beauteous ray,
Approaching night with shining day.

His Cure his thoughts engross'd alone:
For them his painful course was run:
To bless, to save, his only care;
To chill the guilty soul with fear;
To point the pathway to the skies,
And teach, and urge, and aid, to rise;
Where strait, and difficult to keep,

It climbs, and climbs, o'er Virtue's steep.

For this, the sacred page explore,

Consult, and ponder, o'er and o'er;
The words of endless life discern;
The way, the means, the motives learn;
The hopes, the promises, enjoy,
That ne'er deceive, that cannot cloy;
Alarms to Guilt's obdurate mind;
Perennial bliss to Faith assign'd;
The precepts, by MESSIAH given;
His life, the image bright of Heaven:
His death, self-ruin'd man to save;
His rise, primitial, from the grave;
Beyond all other love, his love;
His name, all other names above.
All duties to be learn'd, or done,
All comforts to be gain'd, or known,
To do, to gain, unceasing strive,
The book of books explore, and live.

"When smiles the Sabbath's genial morn, Instinctive to the Temple turn;

Your households round you thither bring,
Sweet off ring to the SAVIOUR King.
There, on the mercy-seat, he shines,
Receives our souls, forgets our sins,
And welcomes, with resistless charms,
Submitting rebels to his arms.
That chosen, bless'd, accepted day,
Oh never, never cast away!"

"Let order round your houses reign,
Religion rule, and peace sustain ;
Each morn, each eve, your prayers arise,
As incense fragrant, to the skies;
In beauteous groupe, your children join,
And servants share the work divine:
The voice, as is the interest, one,
And one the blessing wrestled down.

"Each toil devote, each care, and pain, Your children for the skies to train.

Allure, reprove, instruct, reclaim,
Alarm, and warn, commend, and blame;
To virtue force with gentle sway,

And guide, and lead, yourselves, the way.
Teach them, profaneness, falsehood, fraud,
Abuse to man, affronts to GOD,

All things impure, obscene, debas'd,
Tho' oft with high high examples grac'd,
To shun beyond the adder's breath,
When hissing instantaneous death;
But justice, truth, and love, to prize,
Beyond the transports of the skies."

"Teach them, that, brighter than the sun,
Th' All-searching Eye looks flaming on,
Each thought, each word, each act, descries,
And sees the guilty motives rise;
A Witness, and a Judge, that day,
Whose light shall every heart display.
Live what you teach-the heavenly SEER,
Who spake, as man ne'er spake, when here,
Taught all things just, and wise, and true
Shone a divine example too.

"To all, around, your blessings lend,
The sick relieve, the poor befriend,
The sad console, the weak sustain,
And soothe the wounded spirit's pain.
To you, think every blessing given,
To shed abroad the alms of HEAVEN,
To blunt the stings of human woe,
And build his kingdom, here below.
Let gentle Peace around you reign,
Her influence spread, her cause sustain:
To railing, answers mild return;
Let love, oppos'd to anger, burn;
Contention, ere begun, suppress,
And bid the voice of party cease.
The taleful tongue, the meddling mind,
The jealous eye, the heart unkind,
Far distant, far, from you remove;
But ope your doors to Truth and Love:
The meek esteem, the humble praise,
And Merit from her footstool raise.

66

'Lo, to aid you to the skies,

Seasons roll, and suns arise;
Promis'd, see the seed-time come,
And the harvest shouted home!

"All things, in their solemn round,
Morn, with peace and beauty crown'd,
Eve, with sweet, returning rest,
Toil, with health and plenty bless'd,
Help you on the ascending road,
Pointing, leading, still to God:
Joys to endless rapture charm;
Woes, of endless woe, alarm.

"All things toil, that you may liveRulers peace and freedom give:

Seers diviner peace proclaim,
Glorious to th' Unutter'd NAME,
Good, to guilty mortals given,
Source of endless joy to heaven.
"See the Sabbath's peaceful morn,
(Sabbaths still for you return),
Opes the Temple to your feet,
Chaunting sounds of Seraphs sweet-
Heaven unfolds, and Gop is near,
Sinners haste, and enter here-
Grace and truth, from worlds above,
Fruits of suffering, dying love,

From the SACRED SPIRIT come,
Wilder'd flocks inviting home.

"Hark, what living music plays! Catch the themes of heavenly praise; Themes, that tune seraphic strings, Notes, the bless'd REDEEMER sings.

"Rise, my sons, and hither haste! Wintry time is overpass'd.

See afar the rains have flown!
See immortal spring begun!
Streams with life and rapture flow;
Fruits with life and rapture glow;
Love the door of life unbars;
Triumphs crown your finish'd wars:
Fondly wait impatient skies,
O'er you to renew their joys.

"Are you naked? here behold
Robes of light, and crowns of gold!
Famish'd? an eternal feast'
Weary everliving rest!
Friendless an ALMIGHTY FRIEND!
Hopeless transports ne'er to end!
"Children, penitents, arise;
Hasten to your native skies:
Your arrival all things sing;
Angels meet you on the wing;
Saints with fairer beauty shine;
Brighter years in heaven begin;
Round the SUN, that lights the skies,
More refulgent glories rise.'

"Thus, O my sons! MESSIAH's voice Allures to never dying joys. That voice of endless love receive; Those counsels hear, obey, and live.

Thus, from the elimes beyond the tomb
If GoD permit my soul to come,
Again my little flock to view,

To watch, and warn, and quicken you,
With transport shall my bosom glow,
To see each house an heaven below,
My sons ambitious of the skies,
And future saints, and angels rise.
And O, what brighter bliss shall bloom,
To hail you victors o'er the tomb;
To guide you, all th' unmeasur'd way,
And welcome to the gates of day;
To hear your blessed Euge sound,
And see th' immortals smile around;
To stand, to shine, by you confess'd
Your friend, your earthly caviour bless'd;
To mingle joys, all joys above,
And warm with ever-bright'ning love!"

He spoke. The filial tear around,
Responsive, trickled to the sound;
He saw their hearts to wisdom won,
And felt his final duty done-
"JESUS! my soul receive"-he cried,
And smil'd, and bow'd his head, and died.

ANN ELIZA BLEECKER.

ANN ELIZA, the youngest daughter of Mr. Brandt Schuyler, was born in the city of New York in October, 1752. "Though in her early years," her admiring biographer remarks, "she never displayed any partiality for school, yet she was passionately fond of books, insomuch that she read with propriety any book that came to hand long before the time that children in common pass their spelling-books."

In the year 1769 she married Mr. John J. Bleecker, of New Rochelle, and removed with him to Poughkeepsie where they resided a year