THE NEW ENGLAND MAGAZINE. SEPTEMBER, 1897. VOL. XVII. No. I. FROM time to time history shows human characters that incarnate an era, a nation, a civilization. Through inheritance, opportunity and the xviii and power to interpret and ex- press the attainments and aspirations of their fellows, some men seem able to gather into themselves the forces of an age. Perhaps no one man in American history has more fully em- bodied the spirit of any one of the thirteen colonies than did Governor Jonathan Trumbull that of Connecti- cut. So well did he do it that the figure of the Puritan magistrate, trans- figured against the Brocken Revolu- tionary storm-clouds, has become the pictorial embodiment of the United States. The great American republic is personified in him. We all know the graphic symbols which express the spirit of Connecti- cuts original settlers and of the men who continued their work. Let us look at these and note the pre-natal life of a noble state in the tried and tem- pered spirits of those who had for the sake of freedom of conscience endured l)ersecution. Having crossed the seas to maintain their liberty, they took good care to safeguard it when won. The fouiiders of Connecticut were educated Englishmen who, having done noble service for their rights in the home land, had in republican Hol- land reinforced and enlarged their souls. While tempering their noble contention for religious freedom with tolerance they had also enlarged their concel)tions of ecclesiastical and civil government xvhile they were in contact with that democratic spirit that per- meated the churches in the Nether- lands. Dutch Calvinism, in the six- teenth and early seventeenth century, wa~ the only nurse of freedom of con- science in Europe. Coming to America from England. but finding the forms of social and po- litical order in the Bay Colony not quite liberal enough, Hooker, Daven- port and their co-workers emigrated to a region of broad rivers and streams that empty into Long Island Sound. There they formed a political order of society xvhich, after giving full honor 3 NEW SERIES. BROTHER JONATHAN AND HIS HOME. By 1471/liam Elliot Grzftis. 4 BROTHER JONATHAN. and credit to the English, Pnritan and Congregational inheritance, bears too close a resemblance to the political strnctnre of a Dntch state to be acci- dental. In details of their political procednre, special featnres of their town-system, in the liberality of theit laws in favor of women, and in their spirit of religions tolerance, Connecti- cnt, though growing mnch that was original on her own soil, took her precedents from Holland. The found- ers of Connecticnt had lived long enongh in the Dntch republic to ab- sorb mnch of its spirit. Many pages of Ubbo Emminss history of ultra- democratic Friesland and of the his- tory of colonial Connecticnt are won- derfully alike. With glowing and practical faith in God, these pioneers took as their graphic symbol three fruit-laden vines with the motto, Qui transtulit, susti- net, fully believing that He who had transplanted the vine of hope and free- dom would nonrish it in the American wilderness. Led by Hooker and Day- enpor~t, they fonnded a tine democ- racy. They not only believed that, nnder God, power resided with the people, bnt they manifested that power in the choice of officers and magis- trates made by the direct vote of the people. Serions, earnest, and nobly infnsed with that spirit of self-cdntrol which makes the tine freemen, their colony soon became known as the land of steady habits. The geographical nomenclatnre of a newly settled conntry reflects trnth- fnlly the spirit and tastes of the people, or of their governors, who have the naming of the new concentrations~~ and land divisions. It is very interest- ing to comp~ire the names of Connecti- cnt towns and connties with those, for example, of Massachnsetts. On the map of the Bay State we have a pano- rama of the political history of Eng- land. One finds not only the names of English royalty, good and bad, wise and foolish, bnt also of royaltys favor- ites, mistresses, places of residence, gentile connections and precedents. From the names of Massachnsetts towns, one conld write as in an illnminated commentary the story of British kings for a centnry and a half. On the contrary, in Connecticnt, the most democratic of all the thirteen col- onies, one will find on the map no name snggesting king, qneen or royal THE JONATHAN TRUMBULL HOUSE AT LEBANON, CONN. BROTHER JONATHAN. 5 favorite, unless perchance it be one like that of Windsor. This, indeed, recalls the seat of a palace; but then it was given by emigrants from Massa- chusetts. The Connecticut names were born on the soil, transferred from redmen, borrowed from the Bible, Anglicized or, as in the case of Housa- tonic, Indianized from the Dutch, who were the first white explorers, or they are reminiscences of ancestral seats, of historic incidents, or indexes of first impressions. If we must recognize the wooden nutmeg as in any way symbolical of Connecticut, one detects here a trib- ute to the acknowledged shrewdness and inventiveness of her sons. In making Malay spice grow on New England pine trees, there is probably no more caricature than the keen Con- necticut folks have made of their neighbors in New Netherland. Without controversy or discount, we may say that at the opening of the Revolutionary War the Charter Oak Colony, by its ge ographical situation, the character of its people, its de- velopment in agriculture, in- dustries and trade, its excel- lent government and sound po- litical and finan- cial methods, was one of the best fitted of all tne thirteen col- onies to enter into a long war that should try to the uttermost the resources a n d character of the common- wealth. It was fortunate that in such an hour the chief magis- trate was also the foremost citizen of the common- wealth, incarnating the spirit of its cit- izens. So thoroughly did Jonathan Trumbull do this, that his name, as familiarly used in council by the Father of his Country, has become the Americans title of endearment and the worlds term of pleasantry for the great nation now numbering over seventy millions of souls. The license of caricature has indeed enlarged the Yankee governors bea- ver hat to that of the Harrisonian epoch and dimensions; has first lengthened the gubernatorial knee breeches into trousers and then so shrunk their sufficient length as to re- quire straps both taut and elongated under the boots; has borrowed from the fully developed national ensign stripes for the legs and stars for the whig coat, which has sufficiently large brass buttons and wind-swept coat- tails, to say nothing of an avalanche- like rolling collar. In making out of the Revolutionary Brother Jonathan the Uncle Sam required for comic cari- cature, the art- ist has also gro- tesquely attenu- ated his physical frame, sharp- ened his fea- tures and point- ed his chin whiskers, so that the ideal personification of the United States, so useful and necessary for the cartoon- ist, has drifted away somewhat from the origi- nal, and from reality. Indi- rectly the cari- cature is a com- pliment to New England, and especially to ENTRANCE TO THE TRUMBULL HOUSE. 6 BROTHER JONA THAN. Connecticut, as being distinctive America. Nevertheless, it seems un- reasonable to donbt that the original of Brother Jonathan, as an impersona- tion of the United States, was the Puritan magistrate of Lebanon and the oft elected governor of Connecti- cut. As Americans, we may congrat- ulate ourselves that almost as soon as the nation was born a pictorial person- ification was at hand which, after nearly a century and a quarter, is at once recognized in forty-five states and indeed all over the world. The name Trumbull cOi~nes from an incident that has been sym- bolized in her- aldry. Whether belonging to the same order of legend that ascribes the knightly name of Eyre to the soldier at Hast- ings ~~ho loos- ened the visor of the stunned and nnhorsed William th~ Conqueror, and gave him air, or THE OLD WAR OFFICE. Scudder to the shield bearer (scutu~~ ccuyer), or William from gildhelm, or ~s based on contemporaneous docu- ment, we cannot say. The story is told in the reminiscences of Colonel John Trumbull the painter, and is given as history founded on written evidence. In Scotland one of the an- cestors of the family saved the life of a royal personage by diverting from the object of its fury an angry bull. In reward for this act of humanity and loyalty, the brave hero was rewarded and allowed to wear as his crest three bulls heads, because he had turned a BRO THER JONATHAN. 7 bull away from majesty. In cotirse of time, just as turkey on Indian lips became Trukee ou oue of our western rivers, so turubull became Trumbull. Until 1766 the family spelled the name Trumble, but after the researches of the artist-son in the Fieralds office in London the Governor wrote his name ever afterwards Trumbull. The first aucestor of the American Trumbulls came from Cumberland county, England, and located at Suf- field. This son of John, the immi- giant, had four sons, one of whom, the father of the great Jonathan, settled at Lebanon, Conu., where in 1710 the future Governor was born. At his en- vironment, in the midst of which he grew up, let us now look. Lebanon is a typical New England village. The spacious green is a mile long, having a double roadway marked by stately trees. The collec- tion of a hundred or less houses is rich in historical interest, though here and there is one that shows nineteenth century taste and fashion. All around are the eternal hills. Over our heads as we walk along the roadways are grand old elms and maples. One of those once more numerous pine groves, rich in that balsamic perfume which is so gratefully noticeable, espe- cially on a hot day, still remains. The Congregational Church edifice, whkh is perhaps the first feature to strike the eyes from a distance, pierces the V)lue sky s expanse with a white spire tipped with a flashing gilded vane, while further down on the four faces of the wooden tower are the dials which tell of the passing minutes. The edifice is the third in the course of his- tory. Although the organization of the church is not exactly contempora~ne- ous with the foundation of the town, the history of Lebanon is closely asso- ciated with it. With the wand of imagination or a wave of the hand, like Roderick Dhus INTERIOR OF THE WAR OFFICE, WITh TRUMI3ULLs OLD FURNITURE. LEBANON GREEN. BROTHER JONATHAN. 9 in the Highland glen, let us bid chnrch and dwellings, stone walls and well- kept roads, flowering gardens and sober orchards, passing bicycles and baby carriage disappear. Coming back to the primeval nature and abo- riginal habitations of nearly two cen- turies and a half ago, we find that this hill slope and place of goodly cedars was part of the hunting grounds of the Mohegans tinder Uncas. Its first white settler was Major John Mason, who, like every one of the military leaders of the seventeenth century English colonists in America had served in the Dutch War of Independ- ence under the orange, white and blue flag. When Mason, in 1637, had given the Pequots proof that the spirit of the ancient war-man, guerre-man or German had not been lost in his descendants, but that these could fight in new America as in primeval Euro- pean forests, Uncas was mightily im- I)ressed. He believed the friendship of the English would be an invincible shield against all enemies. He grad- ually ceded his lands to the Connecti- cut colony, and they became the prop- erty of the General Assembly, which in 1663, to reward Major Mason, al- lowed him to choose five hundred acres of unoccupied soil and locate his claim where he pleased. The swamp-fighter was not long in making up his mind, for his eye had already rested upon the southwestern slope of Poquechanneeg. He had the surveyors come at once to measure and stake out the land, which by due legal con- vevance became his in 1665. His son-in-law, Rev. James Fitch, received the next year from the General Assembly one hundred and twenty acres adjoining Masons tract, to which the son of Uncas further added a strip five miles long and one mile wide. When to this handsome patch on the earths surface another tract called the five mile square purchase and three smaller sections were added, the pro- prietors, seven in number, decided that there was space sufficient for a plan- tation. In order that ye Worshippe of goode bee there sett up, ye King- dom of Christ enlarged, they marked out streets and apportioned to each house-lot forty-two acres. The golden fleece which xve see upon the autumn landscape was not then grown, nor was the living emer- ald of the mile-long green as yet set, but instead xvas a dense alder swamp vocal with cat-birds and frogs and having slopes extending back on each side. Soon, however, the Creator and his creatures made greater beauty. With an ax and plow, unceasing in- dustry and toil, having God and time on their side, each reared his house and home, as old Teutonic phrase de- scribes dwelling and land-lot, and all made a stockaded log fort into which to run in time of danger. From the first there was a well organized social order. The Indian name of the place was early changed to Lebanon, though it was not until 1697 that ye new Plan- tation too ye westward of Norwich bounds was so called in the records of the General Assembly. This name, so sweet to the ear, so redolent of Biblical associations, suggesting dig- nity, strength and permanency, was given by the Rev. James Fitch, who was happily impressed with certain THE OlD WAR OFFICE IN TRUMBUlLS TiME. I0 BROTHER JONATHAN. superb cedars in this new Land of Promise. The town is centrally located in eastern Connecticut between Norwich and Hartford, eleven miles north of the head waters of the Thames River. Haddam and New London were its ports of entry, where teams brought to and distributed from this centre the products of the four continents. Leb- anon crowns a small elevation which slopes gradually westward to Pease Creek Valley and eastward to the vale of the lively Susquetamscott brook. Hills, vales and fertile fields abound in the neighborhood, and the scenery is delightful. In those years approaching the Revolution Lebanon was a to\vn of considerable size and importance, numbering 3,960 souls. Being but the fourteenth town in the order of population in 1774, it was the eleventh in valuation in the colony in 1775. That it became the centre of impor- tance in the state and almost the na- tional centre of the American colonies, so that its fame in Europe exceeded that of any place in America except Boston, Philadelphia and New York, was owing to the residence there of the Trumbull family, and especially of the only rebel Governor. In the awards for service in the Lexington Alarm but two towns in the state, Windham and Woodstock, were granted larger sums of money as their compensation. Connecticut was the only state that, from 1775 to 1783, was an organic unit in legalized resistance. To condense a life-story which may be found concisely stated in all the en- cyclopedias and elaborated in the special biography of Stuart and the Reminiscences of his son, Jonathan Trumbull went to Harvard College when but thirteen years old, becoming well versed in the classics and Hebrew. He graddated at the age of seventeen. He studied theology under the fight- ing parson, Rev. Solomon Williams, who was pastor in Lebanon during fifty-four years. In those days there were no theological seminaries. Young Jonathan was actually licensed, preached sermons and expected to enter the active pastorate at Colches- ter, but Providence had fore-ordained him to be true to his an- cestral name and turn John Bull from tossing Ameri- can law and order to the winds. The Trumbulls, father and sons, were not only men actively inter- ested in farming and vil- lage activities, but in domestic and foreign com- merce. By the time young Jonathan had nearly reached his majority they were doing a thriving trade, importing from Eng- land and Holland in ships chartered by themselves the products of the Old World, and sending back the fish, grain and raw material produced in the colony, besides trading di- rectly with the West Indies. The correspondents of Trumble, Fitch & Trumble, as the firm then wrote its name, style and title, were at Boston, Halifax, Amsterdam, London and Bristol, St. Eustacius and other West TRUMBULL AND Hi5 WIFE. From an early painting by John Trumbull, now in the wadsworth Atben urn, at Hartford. ever made since becoming a nation. Here also was born his son Colonel William, signer of the Declaration of Independence, who in 1775 roused the people by his oratory, collected cloth, pork and gold for the army, and in 1777 sent beef, cattle and money to Valley Forge. He kept up his exer- tions even when $200 (in Continental money) would not buy one bowl of flip. It is a little curious that our general histories give so little credit to the work and personality of Jonathan Trumbull. The local and town histo- ries of Connecticut do of course deal justly and with some sense of literary proportion with the matter, but it is strange that historians devote so much more space to the things showy, dra- matic and sensational, and so little to the spirit and work that was funda- mental to success in the Revolution. Connecticut, having neither dissen- sions within or hostile troops upon her soil, was able to do probably what no other of the thirteen colonies could do so fully, that is, to devote her entire reso rces of men and material to the general good. Furthermore, while General Warren and Sargent Jasper, falling in the smoke of battle, and Na- than Hale, dying on the scaffold, have their names writ large on the page of history and their enduring monu- ments L bronze, we must not forget the ceaseless and exhausting labors of Brother Jonathan. His oldest son, Joseph, illustrating the proverb Like father, like son, died from overwork in patriotism, as truly a martyr as he who hung by rope or fell by bullet for American freedom. Think of the twelve hundred meet- ings held in Lebanon of the Council of Safety, of which eleven hundred and forty-five were held in the Old War Office. Think of the riding in and out of the village of horsemen bearing dis- patches to and from Congress, from commander-in-chief and from gener- als in the field and captains on deck; the fitting out of provision trains and supplies of beef upon the hoof, the re 23 ception and distribution from and by the teams of European munitions of war brought by the ships. Hear again the drumbeat and the commands of the drill officers, as recruits for the Revolutionary army moved in and out of this village now so quiet. From this Old War Office went out the orders to regiments to move to the relief of other states or to threatened points on its own frontier. Connecticut had an adventurous little navy during the war, and most of thebusiness of equipping, commissioning and commanding the ships was done in this office. There were many cloudy days when the noblest patriots were discouraged. It was in the darkest of these dark days, when the sons of Connecticut were scattered over the land for freedoms cause, that to use the sentence on the headstones of so many victims in southeastern Connecticut the traitor Arnold and his murthering crew~~ invaded the state. The Governors face grew sad, In his store on Lehanon Hill; He reckoned the men he had; He counted the forts to fill; He traced on the map the ground By river, and harbor, and coast; Ah, where shall the men and the guns be found, Lest the State he lost? The brave States sons were gone; On many a field they lay; They were following Washington, Afar down Yorktown way; The men and the weapons failed, They were gone with our free good will; But Jonathan Trumbull never quailed In his store on Lebanon Hill. One is tempted to draw a contrast, as he sees this Puritan magistrate, never too busy amid the direst toils and cares to have morning and even- ing prayer, to ask deliberately a bless- ing upon each meal,to read the noblest book of history, religion and devo- tions daily, with the other figures con- temporaneous in history, Arnold, Jefferson and the Duke of Lauzun. Think of Benedict Arnold: general and traitor; b. at Norwich, Conn. Jan. 14, 1741. Though a neighbor- BROTHER JONATHAN, 12 made himself familiar with the course and phenomena of history in the American colonies and in Europe, especially in France, the Netherlands and England. He also acquainted himself with the story of ancient his- tory, the causes of national move- ments and of revolution. In 1766 the winds of destiny swept his ships from the sea, and the firm became bank- rupt; yet this wind, as we now see, boded good to the cause of American freedom, for it served only to develop the sympathies, enlarge the foresight and concentrate the mind of Jonathan Trumbull on public affairs. As the Revolutionary War approached, he was just the man fitted by constant official training and by minute ac- quaintance with all parts of the col- onies to know what ought to be done and to see that it could be done. To difficulties, through difficulties. In Connecticut the governor was elected directly by the people, and this was the only colony in which this method of choosing the chief magistrate pre- vailed. From the moment of his election as BROTHER JONATHAN. chief executive there was one build- ing in Lebanon, still standing, which became henceforth as closely associ- ated with the councils of the state and later with the councils of the nation, as are the State House in Philadelphia and Fanenil Hall in Boston with American Independence. This was the storehouse and office of the Trum- bulls. Here the meetings of citizens were held as early as April, 1770, when, because of the Boston Massa- cre, a committee met and voted and passed a draft of resolve or Declara- tion of the rights and liberties which we look upon as infringed by Parlia- ment. In August of the same year a meeting voted unanimously to send two delegates to New Haven concern- ing the non-importation agreement, as well as to form a committee to in- spect the conduct of all persons in the town respecting their violation of the true intent and meaning of such agree- ment. In a word, the patriots of Leb- anon made it too hot a place for Trumbulls sword, of which a picture is given at the head of this article, is also in the collection of the connec- ticut Historical Society, by whose kind permission these illustrations are given. TRUMBULLS FAMILY BIBLE. In the connecticut Historical Societys Rooms at Hartford.* BROTHER JONATHAN tories and half-hearted patriots. Con- necticut was the one thoroughly united Commonwealth of the thirteen. In it the war movement was one not of revolution, but of conservatism It was the whole state itself, under its constitutional and lawful officers, arm- ing in its own defense against a threat of revolution to be enforced upon it from without. The people and the state were one. When the Boston Port Bill took effect, in June, ~ the Lebanon bells were muffled and tolled from sunrise to sunset. The Town House door was hung with black, on which was nailed a copy of the infamous act. Shops were shut and their windows covered with crape. Governor Trumbulls proclamation announcing a fast, in this year 1774, breathed a spirit of unconquerable tenacity to. the cause of law and free- dom. Already in this state, where there were few tories, were many who foresaw with Governor Trumbull that the revolution was a foregone conclu- sion, but they believed that right was on the American side. On the Sun- 3 day morning succeeding the battle of Lexington, a messenger, leaving his steaming horse at the church door, 2 TRUMIIULLs 5ILVER PITCHER. Jo the Historical 5ocietys Collection, Hartford. strode inside during the services, which were at once suspended. After he had told the story, volunteers for freedom hurried from the church and at beat of the drum enrolled to take up arms for their country. From this time forth Jonathan Trumbulls store became the War Office, the base of supplies for soldiers to be sent to Bos- ton and wherever necessity called dur- ing the next seven years. The term revolutionist, a mongrel but very convenient word, is not al- ways, because of its associations, ac- curately applied to good men and opposers of revolution from without. Especially when the political move- ment fails of success, this term conveys ideas that are more suggestive of the gallows than redo- lent of olive and laurel. Governor Trumbull and his sons entered sol- emnly into war as into a holy work, as in conscience bound, and in the belief that they were maintaining the ancestral rights TRUMBULLs CHAISE. Jo the Museumat Bristol, Coon., 4 of Englishmen. When Joseph Trum- bull, the Governors eldest son, was Commissary General in the Continen- tal Army, and Jonathan, Jr., his second son, Paymaster General of the National Army, private secretary and first aid- de-camp of General Washington, and John, the second son (and painter), was Adjutant-General in Gatess army, and the Governor was by virtne of his office Commander-in-Chief of all the marine and land forces of Con- necticut, Hancock sneeringly remark- ed, at seeing father and sons in office, that that family is well provided for. He seemed to forget that all four would wear halters around their necks if success should not crown the Amer- ican arms, for the quartette had doubt- less agreed to hang together, lest they hang separately. Indeed Trumbull was the only col BROTHER JONATHAN. onies the royal governors thwarted the will of the people and were obedient to their master, King George. Most of them, like Tryon, well called Bloody Billy, Dinsmore and Franklin, Campbell, Wanton and Hutthinson, Brother Jonathans classmate, were able to retard somewhat the cause of liberty. Trumbull, on the contrary, as an unselfish patriot and a God-fear- ing man, embodied the spirit of the whole people in the most conservative of the colonies. On the news from Lexington, Israel Putnam, without changing his check shirt, monnted, rode all night, reaching Cambridge at sunrise. The yonng men from Weth- ersfield took their fire-locks and at once moved toward the Charles River. Within forty-eight hours of battle tid- ings five thousand Connecticut troops were on their way northward. Their flags and drnms were wreathed with the grape-vine emblems an4 the motto which uttered their faith that the God who had bronght over the fathers would sus- tam the sons. On the Wed- nesday, following the law- less British volley on Lex- ington Green, Governor Trumbull sent out writs to convene the Legislature at Hartford. The Massachu- setts men were surprised at the regularity and fullness of the supplies voted by the Connecticut towns, which came so promptly for the army around Boston. Thirty barrels of gunpowder, pre- viously stored ready by Gov- ernor Trumbull, arrived in time to fill the powder-horns that were emptied in fire on Bnnker Hill. When Wash- ington, nnder the old elm at Cambridge, drew his sword of command, promises of mutual reliance, which were never broken, were exchanged with Trumbull, Governor of Connecticut. In the dark hour when the Amen- onial governor who was also a states chief magistrate during the war called the Revolution. In all the other col JOHAN VAN DER cAPELLEN. From an old print. BRO THEE JONA THAN. 5 can militia, not yet transmuted into an army by the German Steuben, had been defeated on Long Island, the spirit of Jonathan Trumbull rose to the occasion. He wrote: Knowing our cause righteous, I do not greatly dread what our numerous enemies can do against us. When Washington wrote him a letter revealing the utter weak- ness of his forces, Trumbull at once summoned the Council again. Though five regiments from the counties of Connecticut nearest the seat of war were already under Washingtons orders, Trumbull called out nine regi- ments more. This was in midsummer, the harvests not yet gathered, nor the time certain when the sowers for next years crops might return. Yet Trum- bull sent word all over the state to those not enrolled in any trained band: Join yourselves to one. of the companies now ordered to New York, or form yourselves into distinct com- panies and choose captains forthwith. March on: This shall be your war- rant. May the God of the armies of Israel be your leader! The nine reg- iments, self-equipped, marched to New York. From this time forth Trumbull be- came the guide, philosopher and friend of Washington, who, as good tradition declares, used a formula in council: Let us hear what Brother Jonathan says. The man whom God Almighty had raised up and given the capacity to stand repeated defeat and out of disaster to organize victory needed human sympathy, and this he received always from the imperturb- able Brother Jonathan of Lebanon. Sheltered as Connecticut was from the line of the sea coast, from the great waterway between New York and Canada and from navigable rivers, all of which were paths for the enemy, the state was comparatively free from invasion during the war, except when Bloody Billy Tryon and Arnold at- tempted their raids. Yet because no large hostile army ever camped on her soil, Connecticut was not less but all the more forward and zealous in main- taining the patriot cause. Only twice did the British wayfarers tarry over night, and never did they wait long enough to be whipped. Unlike New York, richest in Revolutionary monu- ments, or Pennsylvania and New Jer IRE HOME OF Box. JONATHAN IEUMBCLL, JR. IHE WELLES HOUSE. rHE BIRTHPLACE OF Coy. JosElfi TRUMBUlL. JOE BUCEINOHAM PLACE. i6 BROTHER JONATHAN. sey with bloody fields, or Massachu- setts, with her famous shaft, Connecti- cut is poor in battlefields and mon- uments of that period, but honorably so. Her well ordered system of finance, as carefully looked after as Trumbull looked after his own private affairs, enabled the state to maintain credit and furnish its quotas promptly and liberally. Connecticut did indeed see a considerable army, yes, two armies, on her own soil. These exhibited in their contrast the homespun economy of republican patriots and the gor- geous equipment of imperial warriors. She saw her own sons marching by thousands under the grape-vine flag and the stars and stripes the only emblem which Trumbull considered more sacred than her own; and she also saw the soldiers of France, who in the white and red uniform of the Bourbons, with martial music and bright uniforms, under the golden lilies on the white silken banners of France, camped at Lebanon. When in the whole village of Lebanon there was but one carpet on the floor, aud that in the home of the recently mar- ried Sarah Backus of Norwich, true daughter of the Revolution, wife of David, the Governors son, the couple vacated their home and with their little baby went elsewhere to live. Such was the thrift and hospitality of a state whose military headquarters were in a room in a country store. With practical political sagacity, Trumbull had labored from the first to win for his country friends in Europe. He knew full well that the overwhelm- ingly superior resources of Great Brit- am would enable that country to keep up the war for many years and that it would be necessary for colonists to draw supplies, especially of manufac- tured war material, from lands beyond the sea. Brother Jonathan is to be credited with a goodly share of the influence brought to bear upon the house of Bourbon for its generous aid to America (given, however, as must never be forgotten, with the legiti- mately selfish purpose of winning back Canada, directly in the interests of French politics and as a part of the European program). Trumbulls wide THE TRUMBULL TOMB AT LEBANON. BROTHER JON/I TI IAN. 7 acquaintance with naval and European men gave him a reputation and stand- ing in Europe which very few of the American statesmen possessed. Very naturally Trumbull looked toward the Dutch republic for sympathy and aid, notwithstanding that British influence was at this particular epoch powerful beyond that in any period known in the history of the Dutch United States. Not only had the stadtholder or hered- itary president become closely allied by marriage to the reigning house of C;reat Britain, not only had he made himself dangerously powerful by abus- ing his position, which was not elec- tive and impeachable (as the American constitutional fathers, in 1787, took good care to make their presidency), but the able and unscrupulous British minister, Sir Joseph Yorke, had for twenty-five years manipulated Dutch politics and especially the great moneyed power of the Netherlands in the interests of his Hanoverian sov- ereign. Nevertheless, Trumbull be- lieved that the heart of the Dutch people, who two centuries before had gone through the identical experience of revolting against unjust taxation and despotism and resisting revolution from without, had formed a union of states and had issued a Declaration of independence, would beat in sympa- thy with the American brethren. The Dutch republicans in the days when religious toleration was next to un- known had generously harbored his forefathers. As John Adams said: If ever there was among nations a natural alliance, one may be formed be- tween the two republics. The first planters of the four northern states found in this country [Holland] an asylum They ever entertained and have transmit- ted to posterity a grateful remembrance of that protection and hospitality, and espe- cially of that religious liberty they found here, having sought it in vain in England. Governor Trumbull knew that the pamphlet of the Englishman, Rev. Dr. Price, exposing the villainy of the cor- rupt Parliamentary party which had forced the war with America, had been translated into Dutch and widely cir culated in the republic, and that Dr. Prices second work, printed early in 1776, entitled Observations on the Nature of Civil Liberty, the Princi- ples of Government, and the Justice and Policy of the War with America, had also been done into Dutch and read by Dutchmen wherever their red, white and blue flag floated; and that, furthermore, when King George III. had in an autograph letter applied to the Congress at the Hague to have them detach the famous Scotch Bri- gade, which had been for over a cen- tury in the Dutch service, to join the British army in America, the propo- sition was strenuously opposed by Baron Johan Derck van der Capellen, the translator of Dr. Prices parii- phlets. Still further, Trumbull knew that some of the first and best supplies for Washingtons army (continued throughout the entire war, until the British Admiral Rodney captured the place) had been furnished through the Dutch at St. Eustacius. It was there, on the i6th of November, 1776, that the first salute ever fired by a foreign magistrate in honor of the American flag was rendered by the Dutch Gov- ernor Johannes de Graff (xvhose por- trait hangs in the New Hampshire State House at Concord),who had read the American Declaration of Inde- pendence. This document had been brought (along with the as yet un- starred banner of the colonial Con- gress, consisting of thirteen red and white stripes) by the United States man-of-war Andrea Doria. There were two Dutchmen in Amer- at this time whose names deserve ica to be better known. One of these, Col. Romaine, was a gentleman of great scientific and literary attain- ments, who had recently been in the service of the British government, sur- veying, making maps and writing a book on Florida, which is still a stand- ard work. Romaine knowing his own countrys history so well was struck, as all students are, with the close re- semblance between the Dutch and American resistance of revoltttion BROTHER JONATHAN. 46 1 - /-~ 7447 ~ ~ - ~y~a/k~ 6164j47/ - ~ ~ - ~~7LtZI~I ~ - -I A PAGE OF TRUMBULLS MEMORANDUM BOOK. In the collection of the Connecticut Ilistorical Society. from without, so that, as John Adams said, the originals of the one seem to be a transcript of the other. Re- signing his office in the British service, Romaine entered the service of the Continental Congress, served honor- ably in the war, built forts at West Point, and wrote a book (now very rare and the first ever printed in Hart- ford and under Trumbulls governor- ship), which shows in detail that the Americans in their revolt from Great Britain were but following in the foot- steps of the sixteenth century law-lov- ing Dutchman; or as Governor Living- ston of New Jersey wrote to Van der Capellen, in imitation sir, of your illustrious ancestors. Another Hol- lander, with whom Brother Jona- than was well acquainted, was Gosu- inns Erkelens, who, arriving in Amer- ica in 1774, lived first in New York, then in Philadelphia, and afterwards in Connecticut, interesting himself from the first most energetically in behalf of American freedom. He was a young man, whose mother lived in the well known Leidsche Gracht, or Leyden Waterway, in Amster- dam. Erkelens became a warm friend of Governor Trumbull, and got him to correspond with Baroti Van der Capellen, the leader of the patriot or anti-stadtholder party in the republic. Dutch officers of skill and influence came over to fight in the American army, one of whom, Colonel Dircks, after serving in the artillery regiment of Proctor, returned home in 1778. 1-le took back the news of the surrender of Burgoyne, the evacuation of Philadelphia and the battle of Mon- mouth, giving such clear and detailed information that when circulated in the Dutch newspapers, especially in Professor Luzacs international jour- nal published in French at Leyden, it 1vx ent all over Europe, powerfully influ- encing French and European opinion in favor of our cause. Both in the biography of Baron Van der Capellen, written by my Dutch friend, Mr. J. Sillem, and in his Letters, edited by Mr. XV. H. De Beaufort, and published by the Historical Society of Utrecht, we have numerous references to Governor Jonathan Trumbull (as well as other revolutionary fathers) and several of his letters. Trumbull first wrote to Van der Capellen, June 27, 1777. As British cruisers were everywhere along the coast in those days, letters were usually sent in tripli- cate, one with the dispatches of Congress, one by any private oppor- tunity that offered itself through trad- ing ship or privateer, and third, which proved to be the safest of all, through the Dutch at St. Eustacius, where through the entire Revolutionary war were usually to be found American ships loading with supplies for the Continental army. When Rodney with his mighty fleet captured the place in 1781, there were fifty Ameri- can vessels loaded with tobacco to be exchanged for munitions of war, two armed vessels of the United States navy, and two thousand American sea- men and officers. Van der Capellen applied to Gov 13ROTHER JONATHAN. J9 ernor Trumbull, from Zwolle, Sep- tember 6, 1778, writing also to Dr. Franklin, then in Paris. Erkelens first letter had given a pretty full ac- count of the situation and resources of the American colonies. He also en- closed a long and interesting letter from Governor Trumbull to Lord Hillsborough, dated Lebanon, ]Vlarch, 1775, and Lord Hillsboroughs reply, besides a paper from Thomas Gushing, dated Boston, September 30, 1768, giv- ing a considerable sketch of the politi gotten that our French allies were car- rying out their own schemes, while the Dutch had very little to gain and very much to lose in helping us. Van der Capellen was kept busy in corresponding with his fellow country- men of prominence who were warm friends of America. These of course belonged to the Anti-Orange or patriot party and had a common bond of union. Their headquarters were at Amsterdam, then strongly pro-Ameri- can. Among them were E. F. Van JONATHAN TRUMBULL) F~WRi, Goa~or and Commander in Chief, of the State of CONNECTICUT tO ro ,6 ~a/~% ~ GOrrTING. 1~HEREAS yost are appoint ahe General AfSambly of faid Starr, so hri~~ ~ the ~ ce--.~ Regiment-c F Fort itt faid Stare, repafrag fpccial ~Tt4t ad Confidenu~e~a your Fidelity, courage Care and~oqdtogdod,J Do, by Virracolib! of Q~rarr, conflirure and appoint you to ore to take faid Regiment into your care~sdplargr, as ~ally and diligently to difcharge that care and I rail, in ordering an& enercifog h Oflicers and Soldier,, in Arms, according to the Rules and iJifeipline af Woe, -~PJo~lrem~agoo~rder and Gorernotent, and eomnranding them to ohey you as thcir feaee/~ Lrareer/% for the Setrice of this State antI they are commanded to obey yam, cordingly. And you are to coirdudl and lead forth the faid Itegiroent, or fuels Pitt a them as too II& aij fiogi Time to Time, receive Orders from oar, orfroiu the Corer roe of this State for the lime being, to enQounter, repel, purfue and defiroy, hy Force of Arrrrs, and by all fitting Ways and Means, all the Enemies of this State, who (hall at nay lime ..~....,...../ he eaf er in a hoflile Manner attempt or emseepriee tire lorafion., Dertitreirt or .zmnoayaaaa of this 0rare aird you ate no obferve and obty fuch Qadma arrd Ialirstflions as from mmmc to Time you (hall receive from me, or other your fuperior Oflictri, purfuant to rht Trod hereby repofed in you and she Laws yE tbi, State.-~ Oisreeuaade~yjyI]and, and rAt Sat! gfihd Smote, aim Z~a~/ idieoataneiXm//J .Dgy of ~ atbeaa Amino Dimtrii~ij~. __ ,~ma ~ Sty Ills Excellene ,-Gomman -J a7,a~4 1g5~? b?/ 02 yur.r~rnu ni /I1A~C5ea 7 FX~ SIMILE OF TRUMBULLS COMMISSION TO COL. LEnvARn. Sn the collection of the connecticut Hintorical Society. cal and financial history of the Ameri- can colonies, especially those in New England. These and other papers were translated and circulated in Hol- land, together with an excellent Dutch account written in America. In the Boston Athemeum there is a collec- tion of fifty or more Dutch books, pamphlets, songs, dramas, etc., which, though but as a few leaves remaining from a forest, show how clearly the Dutch understood the American con- troversy and why they helped us so unselfishly. For it must never be for- Berckel, the pensionary of Amster- dam; P. J. Van Berckel, first minister from the Dutch to the American re- public, and C. W. Vischer, pensionary of Haarlem. Meanwhile Erkelens was living at Chatham, near Middletown, Conn., while supplies not only in powder and ball, stockings and blan- kets came through St. Eustacius to the Continental army, but even the very paper on which Thomas Payne wrote his soul-stirring tracts. Toward the end of the war Colonel John Trum- bull, son of the Governor, having es 20 FRO THU? JONATHAN. caped possible death in England on account of alleged treason, reached Holland. There he was handsomely entertained by the Van Staphorsts, bankers. He also met the Willincks of another Amsterdam banking firm, who, though originally under the in- fluence of the British party, which was led financially by the great house of Hope et Cie, had come out in favor of the Americans. The Williucks nego- tiated most of the subsequent loans to the Continental Congress, which when paid in 1825 amounted, principal and interest, to nearly fifteen millions of dollars. The Dutch money came in excellent season to pay off the troops who lay inactive after the Yorktown campaign, but who had to be paid and kept proof against monarchy-loving intriguers while waiting at Newburg, N. Y., before the long-delayed peace came. I remember vividly making my way among hen-roosts and cobwebs in the cellar of an Irish washerwomans house back of Cornwall, to such base uses and neglect had the elegant colonial mansion and headquarters of Lafayette come, to the place where, under the fireplace and reaching down to the bottom of the cellar, was the first of the United States Treasury brick vaults, in which the Dutch money was stored. Governor Trumbull, like Livingston of New Jersey from this side of the water and Dr. Franklin and John Adams on the other side, kept Van der Capellen and Van der Kemp (who afterwards came to America, founded the town of Barneveldt, now Trenton, New York, and was the pioneer and proposer of the Erie Canal) and other friends of America well informed, until public opinion in the Netherlands was ripened. In due time the Indepen- dence of the United States was recog- nized, xvhereat the British government at once declared war against the Dutch. These went to war on our behalf, only to lose tremendously in prestige and possessions, with nothing to compensate them. Young Hogen dorp, destined to be the father of the Dutch Constitution, visited America in company with Van Berckel, the first minister of the United Nether- lands to our country, and had pleasing interviews with Washington and Jef- ferson. In one of the darkest days, when Connecticut seemed to lie bleeding at every pore, Brother Jonathan Trum- bull endeavored to get the Amsterdam bankers to lend money to the State of Connecticut. It must be confessed that this looked a little like what we call now-a-days hard cheek, for Con- necticut was but one of the thirteen colonies, and only two, Delaware and Rhode Island, were smaller. To lend money to a separate colony beyond the Atlantic, when no state of the seven in the republic nor the States-General had yet so much as recognized the United States of America, would have been magnificent, but not finance. Connecticut did not get her loan. Yet even Governor Trumbull, as he wrote to Van der Capellen, was no advocate either of internal or foreign loans. Necessity alone compelled him to this last resort. As Van der Capellen quotes Brother Jonathans opinion, in his letter to Governor Livingston: It is like cold water in a fever, which allays the disease for a moment, but soon causes it to rage with re- doubled violence. It is now time to recross the ocean and return to Lebanon. The white- haired old hero did not long survive the strain of the war, though he lived to see the triumphs of peace. In our day, and in 1896, there has been appropriate and deserved renewal of his fame in the renovation, rather the reconsecration, of the Old War Office. To-day, rich in the halo of Revolutionary memories, re-cased in a new coat of preservative timber, put in perfect order inside and out by the grateful Sons of the American Revolu- tion, transformed as to use into a pub- lic library, adorned with a bronze tablet certifying its history, and recall- ing the illustrious names of great BRO 7 RU? JONA THAN. ~3I leaders whose voices have been heard within its walls, the edifice is an object of pride, not only to the village and state, but to every true American. Having passed its century and a half, it may weather the storms of another century or txvo. It certainly bids fair to outlast Solomons House of the Forest of Lebanon. Over its thresh- old and within its walls have met in council the Americans, Washington, Knox, Putnam, Sullivan, Parsons, Spencer, Sam Adams, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, and our generous allies, Lafayette, Count Rochambeau, the Marquis de Chastellux, Baron de Montesquieu, the Duke of Lauzun, and Admiral Tiernay. Tories have been here too, including the governor of New Jersey, Benjamin Franklins renegade son, but as prisoners. Here have been stored equipments and munitions of war, not only of home production, but also from France and especially from the Netherlands. Among the latter were not a few Eng- lish products which came to the Con- tinental army by way of St. Eustacius; for all through the Revolutionary war British merchants who wanted tobacco supplied through the Dutch what Americans needed. Some handsome English fortunes were made by selling what in the invoices were described as hardware and grain, but when de- livered proved to be cannon and guns, powder and ball. Connecticut now observes Conshtu- tion Day, September 17, in honor of the organic law of the Union adopted on that day, 1787, and Flag Day, June 14, on which date, in 1777, the sacred symbol of our national life was chosen by Congress. Old Lebanon smiled again as gaily as in the days of the French occupation on Flag Day, 1891, when the aged owner, Mrs. Wattles, on whose head the snows of ninety-one years had descended, handed over the ownership of the Old War Office, with a suitable portion of land on and around it, to the Sons of the Revolu- tion. With new sills, partitions, win- dows and doors, the original oak frame-work being still sound, a new stone foundation and a new colonial chimney fireplace and andirons substi- tuted for the narrow smoke pipe in brick, a new soul seemed put into the old ribs. From beneath the upper floor- ing a mass of paper, mostly in scraps and often used or rejected by rats and squirrels during their nest building of a century or so ago, was recovered to delight the antiquary. While the members of the Israel Putnam Branch of the Sons of the Revolution, the Con- necticut Historical Society and the other guests sat down to dinner and listened to poems and addresses and music, all the town was gay with deco- ration. Thousands of visitors who had made holiday sauntered about to study the historic sites. There was, first of all, Brother Jona- thans old home, originally located upon the corner of Town Street and the Colchester road, right alongside the old storehouse. Now, however, it stands midway between the original site and the Trumbull Public Library or renovated War Office. But little changed from the original structure, it dates back to those colonial (lays when Trumbull was a prosperous merchant, before public duties and honors had come to him. It was here that he and his wife who was none other than Faith Robinson, a great-grand- daughter of the noble prophet-leader and self-effacing pastor of the Pil- grims in Leyden kept open house. Here the officers of the allied armies enjoyed the bounty of host and host- ess; and here the illustrious children of the family were born. The house of Jonathan Trumbull, Jr., the second son of the war governor, is on the opposite side of the village green. Then there are the homes of Americas great his- torical painter, Colonel John Trum bull, and of Governor Jonathan Trum- bull, Jr. Since Lebanon furnished five governors to the state, three from the Trumbull family and two others, Clark Bissell, who served during the time of the Mexican war, 1847-49, and William A. Buckingham, for eight 22 BRO THER JONATHAN. years, including the Civil war, the peoples boast is still: We supply Nor. wich with butter and cheese, and the State with governors, especially when they want good ones. Governor Bissells residence, however, is in Go- shen, three miles from Lebanon centre. Few visitors fail to visit the home of the dead, the Trumbull family tomb, half a mile from the centre of thc town, on the Windham road, just across the babbling brook. Here are the graves of the forefathers besides many of the Trumbull, the Backus, the Williams and other families. It was Calhoun, we believe, who once looking over Congress said that the graduates of Yale College and men from Connecti- cut came within five of a majority. So, while lingering in this little Gods acre, one wonders whether there is any other small enclosure between the At- lantic and Pacific which contains the dust of so many men whose names are on Americas shield of fame. There is another mound called the Deserters Grave, but it is on the vil- lage green. An insignificant pile of stones mark the resting place of one of those French hussars who deserted their camp, fearing detection because of their depredations upon the neigh- boring sheepfolds and poultry yards. Arrested and convicted, this one was shot the following day at sunrise. Feminine pity for the unfortunate man has taken the form of touching ro- mance, according to which this private was a titled French nobleman and ab- sent from camp only because he would tell his love to a pretty Yankee maiden beyond the town limits. His false ac- cusation of desertion may have been the trumped-up charge of a rival. So said the story in the New York Sun, of twenty or more years ago. Alas, for such a delightful explanation, which lacks historic basis! It was about the first of December, 178o, when the Duke Lauzun and his legion of five hundred mounted hussars, with their fine horses and finer uniforms of white faced with red, rode into the town. They were quar tered here until June 23, 1781, when they moved off to Yorktown. Still more magnificent was the spectacle when Count Rochambeau came, in the same leafy and perfumed month of June, with six regiments of the finest infantry of Louis XV., on their way from Newport to join the American army on the Hudson. For three weeks their bands of music were heard and their silken-lilied banners seen on the village green. The inspections and dress parades drew all the people from the surrounding country to see and hear. To-day a little mound marks the site of the brick camp oven, xvhere that light and toothsome bread in which the French excel was baked. Stacked up on end, carried in arms or wheeled off like bundles of fagots, these staves of life, club-like in form, so different in shape from the loaves sliced on New England tables, must have drawn forth many a Yankee joke about the staff, which Swift first in- troduced into our language in his Tale of a Tub. On Flag Day, French ensigns marked the spots where life was nourished and taken. It was in the Old War Office that the counselswere initiatedwhich led flour- bonnier and Continental, the white and red and buff and blue, to march to Yorktown and there end the war. One of the oldest houses in town, dating from 1712, is interesting, be- cause when erected it was undoubtedly one of the finest residences in the col- ony. It was built by the Rev. Samuel Welles to please his wife, who was an English lady of rank, who found it hard to content herself with the sim- plicity of the little settlements in the woods. One room has been pre- served with its original paneled walls, on which are paintings, and not a little of the original claphoarding on the outside is still excellently preserved. In this same house afterwards lived Rev. Solomon Williams, D. D., of a family famous in Deerfield and Hart- ford. In 1759 he declared in a ser- mon that the conquest of Quebec was the most important the English had ever made since becoming a nation. Here also was born his son Colonel William, signer of the Declaration of Independence, who in 1775 roused the people by his oratory, collected cloth, pork and gold for the army, and in 1777 sent beef, cattle and money to Valley Forge. He kept up his exer- tions even when $200 (in Continental nioney) would not buy one bowl of flip. It is a little curious that our general histories give so little credit to the work and personality of Jonathan Trumbull. The local and town histo- ries of Connecticut do of course deal justly and with some sense of literary l)roportion with the matter, but it is strange that historians devote so much more space to the things showy, dra- matic and sensational, and so little to the spirit and work that was funda- mental to success in the Revolution. Connecticut, having neither dissen- sions within or hostile troops upon her soil, was able to do probably what no other of the thirteen colonies could do so fully, that is, to devote her entire resources of men and material to the general good. Furthermore, while General Warren and Sargent Jasper, falling in the smoke of battle, and Na- than Hale, dying on the scaffold, have their names writ large on the page of history and their enduring monu- ments in bronze, we must not forget the ceaseless and exhausting labors of Brother Jonathan. His oldest son, Joseph, illustrating the proverb Like father, like son, died from overwork in patriotism, as truly a martyr as he who hung by rope or fell by bullet for American freedom. Think of the twelve hundred meet- ings held in Lebanon of the Council of Safety, of which eleven hundred and forty-five were held in the Old War Office. Think of the riding in and out of the village of horsemen bearing dis- patches to and from Congress, from commander-in-chief and from gener- als in the field and captains on deck; the fittino out of provision trains and supplies of beef upon the hoof, the re 23 ception and distribution from and by the teams of European munitions of war brought by the ships. Hear again the drumbeat and the commands of the drill officers, as recruits for the Revolutionary army moved in and out of this village now so quiet. From this Old War Office went out the orders to regiments to move to the relief of other states or to threatened points on its own frontier. Connecticut had an adventurous little navy during the war, and most of the business of equipping, commissioning and commanding the ships was done in this office. There were many cloudy days when the noblest patriots were discouraged. It was in the darkest of these dark days, when the sons of Connecticut were scattered over the land for freedoms cause, that to use the sentence on the headstones of so many victims in southeastern Connecticut the traitor Arnold and his murthering crexv invaded the state. The Governors face grew sad, In his store on Lebanon Hill; He reckoned the men he had; He counted the forts to fill; He traced on the map the ground By river, and harbor, and coast; Ah, where shall the men and the guns he found. Lest the State he lost? The hrave States~ sons were gone; On many a field they lay; They were following Washington, Afar down Yorktox~ way; The men and the weapons failed, They were gone with our free good will; But Jonathan Trumbull never quailed In his store on Lebanon Hill. One is tempted to draw a contrast, as he sees this Puritan magistrate, never too busy amid the direst toils and cares to have morning and even- ing prayer, to ask deliberately a bless- ing upon each meal,to read the noblest book of history, religion and devo- tions daily, with the other figures con- temporaneons in history, Arnold, Jefferson and the Duke of Lauzun. Think of Benedict Arnold: general and traitor; b. at Norwich, Conn. Jan. 14, 1741. Though a neighbor- BRO THER JONATHAN, 24 BROTHER JONATHAN. ing townsman of the governor, neither Connecticut nor its chief magistrate ever trusted him or gave him a com- mission. Whatever honors or oppor- tunity he had to do good or evil came from the other states or from Con- gress. It is to the honor of his na- tive state that she rejected him and that he hated her in return with a ma- lignant hatred. Governor Trumbulls proclamation of June i8, 1776, which has been locally called the Connecticut decla- ration of independence, and which has only lately been unearthed and published, is in cast of philosophy and in its phrasing exactly the sort of document of which we find many in- stances in the writings of Puritan magistrates among the French, the Dutch and the English Puritans or close Bible students. Its rhetoric and vocabulary are founded on the Holy Scriptures. It breathes throughout sublime faith in God. Now if, as tra- dition assumes, but of which there is no evidence in writing or probability in fact, the Connecticut Puritan and the Virginian disciple of Rousseau, Thomas Jefferson, ever did meet to- gether over the hospitable board in Lebanon, we might, without much strain of the imagination, imitating Walter Savage Landor, reproduce an imaginary conversation. It is safe to say, however, that in the his- tory that has been made since the Declaration of Independence, the spirit of the American people, moving between the two parallel lines marked down in the two state papers we have mentioned, keeps nearer the soul of the Connecticut document. What strange bedfellows did the revolutionary politics of our fathers make! Who can help the antithesis, as he pictures in imagination the six sparkling regiments of Bourbonniers in camp under the sylvan shadows of Lebanon, and the village Puritans? The trees which had echoed only with the note of Psalms resounded with blare of trumpets and the gay and flimsy strains of opera and %waltz. As the grave magistrate and the gay duke sat down to dinner, the former would taste no food till he first thanked the Father of all mercies. The author of Reveries of a Bachelor which we de- lighted in when, as college lads, we dreamed of future cheeks of rose and home of delightand now of Ameri- can Letters, from the Mayflower to Rip Van Winkle, thus paints the picturea very Rembrandt in words: And what a contrast it is this gay nobleman, carved out, as it were, from the dissolute age of Louis XV., who had sauntered under the colon- nades of the Trianon and had kissed the hand of the Pompadour, now strut- ting among the staid dames of Nor- wich and of Lebanon! How they must have looked at him and his fine troopers from under their knitted hoods! You know, I suppos& , his after history, how he went back to Paris, and among the wits there was wont to mimic the way in which the stiff old Connecticut governor had said grace at his table. Ah! he did not know that in Governor Trumbull and all such men is the material to found an enduring state; and in himself and all such men, only the inflammable material to burn one down. There is a little life written of Governor Trum- bull, and there is a life written of the Marquis (duke of) Lauzun. The first is full of deeds of quiet heroism, ending with a tranquil and triumphant death; the other is full of the rankest gallan- tries, and ends with a little spurt of blood under the knife of the guillotine upon the gay Place de la Concorde. Both the Hebrew and the Greek originals of the Bible make clear dis- tinction between labor and work. With the former are associated the ideas of toil and sweat, weariness and waste; with the latter, triumph, value, beauty and permanence. In the full- est sense of the words, Jonathan Trumbull rested from his labors and his works followed him. His fame will grow as a tree a cedar of Leba- non planted by the river of waters, with the flow of years. THE NEW SCIENCE. Dy Jo/in W. Chadwick. Where ~vast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth ? THAT was in the later daxvn: Then I was where now I am In thy bosom; there before Times first planet proudly swam Into space, and back of then, In the darkness thick and long, Closer was I knit xvith thee Than the music with the song. Strange my fortunes since have been, Bathed in fire, in floods congealed, In the nebulous mass aglow, In the ardent planet wheeled: From the shapeless, slow but sure Taking shapes with beauty rife; From the senseless clod at length Plucking out the heart of life. Upward, onward, striving still Through the elemental forms; Cradled in the monster trees, Rocked by earthquakes, nurscd by storms; Out of xveakness growing strong, Working still the heavenly plan, Learning what the beast must do, Ere he find himself a man. From the plant that useless groxvs, Making corn for daily bread; From the fear of stock and stone, Homeward to the Father led; Those xvith whom in ages gone Red of hand I hotly strove Taking to a brothers arms With the awful might of love. Never severed from thy heart, Never parted from thy side, Still as in the later dawn In thy bosom I ahide Still as in the early dark, Fre the worlds hei~an to he, Thou, my God, and I are one, Thou in me and I in Thee. 25

THE NEW SCIENCE. Dy Jo/in W. Chadwick. Where ~vast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth ? THAT was in the later daxvn: Then I was where now I am In thy bosom; there before Times first planet proudly swam Into space, and back of then, In the darkness thick and long, Closer was I knit xvith thee Than the music with the song. Strange my fortunes since have been, Bathed in fire, in floods congealed, In the nebulous mass aglow, In the ardent planet wheeled: From the shapeless, slow but sure Taking shapes with beauty rife; From the senseless clod at length Plucking out the heart of life. Upward, onward, striving still Through the elemental forms; Cradled in the monster trees, Rocked by earthquakes, nurscd by storms; Out of xveakness growing strong, Working still the heavenly plan, Learning what the beast must do, Ere he find himself a man. From the plant that useless groxvs, Making corn for daily bread; From the fear of stock and stone, Homeward to the Father led; Those xvith whom in ages gone Red of hand I hotly strove Taking to a brothers arms With the awful might of love. Never severed from thy heart, Never parted from thy side, Still as in the later dawn In thy bosom I ahide Still as in the early dark, Fre the worlds hei~an to he, Thou, my God, and I are one, Thou in me and I in Thee. 25 SUMMER WAS A XVINSOME THING. Ti Annie F. P SLarilig-. O H,Summer was a winsome thing When first she left the lap of Spring! All garlanded and dew-impearled, The jeweled darling of a world! But noxv shes yellow, dry and parched, XVith brazen heavens over-arched, X\Tell welcome Autumns newer xviles And turn our hacks on faded smiles! Yet when Octobers leaves are red, XVell mourn Junes blossoms lying dead! T think in world of endless bliss Souls will look hack and sigh for this! ROBERT PIKE, A FORGOTTEN CHAMPION OF FREEDOM. By Na//ian N Wi/lung-ton THE reproach of bigotry and intol- erance which rests upon some of the early settlers of Massachu- setts in the execution of Quakers and witches does not rest upon the people of the towns about the mouth of the Merrimac River. Although several persons were accused of the crime of witchcraft in this region, no one was ever executed, nor in the time of the trials and executions at Salem were the people carried away by the mania which prevailed elsewhere, although the belief in witchcraft was then universal, and in this respect the people of Newbury, Salisbury, Hampton and Haverhill were not in advance of the men of their time in this country or in Europe. They deserve the credit, however, of refusing to convict of the supposed crime of witchcraft upon any such evidence as sent the accused to their death upon Gallows Hill in Salem. When, also, Quakers were condemned to be whipped out of the province, the whiplash ceased to work as soon as the victims arrived at the line which separates Newbury from Rowley. The people of this part of the old province have long taken pride in these facts; and that they have this cause for boasting is due chiefly, if not entirely, to the influence of one man who was a leader in the Massa- chusetts colony during the greater part of a long life, and who was a cen- tury in advance of his age in several respects, while sharing its theological beliefs. All that we can discover of Robert Pike indicates a man of sound common sense in all matters, private and public. The memory of such a character is worthy of preservation. Whittier has woven the name and some of the incidents of his life into 26

SUMMER WAS A XVINSOME THING. Ti Annie F. P SLarilig-. O H,Summer was a winsome thing When first she left the lap of Spring! All garlanded and dew-impearled, The jeweled darling of a world! But noxv shes yellow, dry and parched, XVith brazen heavens over-arched, X\Tell welcome Autumns newer xviles And turn our hacks on faded smiles! Yet when Octobers leaves are red, XVell mourn Junes blossoms lying dead! T think in world of endless bliss Souls will look hack and sigh for this! ROBERT PIKE, A FORGOTTEN CHAMPION OF FREEDOM. By Na//ian N Wi/lung-ton THE reproach of bigotry and intol- erance which rests upon some of the early settlers of Massachu- setts in the execution of Quakers and witches does not rest upon the people of the towns about the mouth of the Merrimac River. Although several persons were accused of the crime of witchcraft in this region, no one was ever executed, nor in the time of the trials and executions at Salem were the people carried away by the mania which prevailed elsewhere, although the belief in witchcraft was then universal, and in this respect the people of Newbury, Salisbury, Hampton and Haverhill were not in advance of the men of their time in this country or in Europe. They deserve the credit, however, of refusing to convict of the supposed crime of witchcraft upon any such evidence as sent the accused to their death upon Gallows Hill in Salem. When, also, Quakers were condemned to be whipped out of the province, the whiplash ceased to work as soon as the victims arrived at the line which separates Newbury from Rowley. The people of this part of the old province have long taken pride in these facts; and that they have this cause for boasting is due chiefly, if not entirely, to the influence of one man who was a leader in the Massa- chusetts colony during the greater part of a long life, and who was a cen- tury in advance of his age in several respects, while sharing its theological beliefs. All that we can discover of Robert Pike indicates a man of sound common sense in all matters, private and public. The memory of such a character is worthy of preservation. Whittier has woven the name and some of the incidents of his life into 26

SUMMER WAS A XVINSOME THING. Ti Annie F. P SLarilig-. O H,Summer was a winsome thing When first she left the lap of Spring! All garlanded and dew-impearled, The jeweled darling of a world! But noxv shes yellow, dry and parched, XVith brazen heavens over-arched, X\Tell welcome Autumns newer xviles And turn our hacks on faded smiles! Yet when Octobers leaves are red, XVell mourn Junes blossoms lying dead! T think in world of endless bliss Souls will look hack and sigh for this! ROBERT PIKE, A FORGOTTEN CHAMPION OF FREEDOM. By Na//ian N Wi/lung-ton THE reproach of bigotry and intol- erance which rests upon some of the early settlers of Massachu- setts in the execution of Quakers and witches does not rest upon the people of the towns about the mouth of the Merrimac River. Although several persons were accused of the crime of witchcraft in this region, no one was ever executed, nor in the time of the trials and executions at Salem were the people carried away by the mania which prevailed elsewhere, although the belief in witchcraft was then universal, and in this respect the people of Newbury, Salisbury, Hampton and Haverhill were not in advance of the men of their time in this country or in Europe. They deserve the credit, however, of refusing to convict of the supposed crime of witchcraft upon any such evidence as sent the accused to their death upon Gallows Hill in Salem. When, also, Quakers were condemned to be whipped out of the province, the whiplash ceased to work as soon as the victims arrived at the line which separates Newbury from Rowley. The people of this part of the old province have long taken pride in these facts; and that they have this cause for boasting is due chiefly, if not entirely, to the influence of one man who was a leader in the Massa- chusetts colony during the greater part of a long life, and who was a cen- tury in advance of his age in several respects, while sharing its theological beliefs. All that we can discover of Robert Pike indicates a man of sound common sense in all matters, private and public. The memory of such a character is worthy of preservation. Whittier has woven the name and some of the incidents of his life into 26 ROBERT PIKE. 27 his piece of historical fiction, Marga- ret Smiths Journal, and 1\fr. James S. Pike, a descendant of this Puritan hero, published a biography in 1879, but the whole edition was bought tip by an admirer of the subject, and it is riot now to be had at the bookstores. Robert Pike was born in England in the early part of the year i6i6. His father, John Pike, sailed for Massa- chusetts from Southampton in the ship James in 1635, taking xvith him five children, of whom one was Robert, then nineteen years old. Many of the Puritan emigrants had reasons for effacing traces of them- selves in order to avoid a persecuting government; and the description of John Pike, as a laborer from Lang- ford, is doubtless intentionally mis- leading. There are many English parishes of the name, and no English laborer of that day had the education which John Pike and his remarkable son evidently possessed. The father pleaded and won important cases in the court, and wrote letters which showed him to be a man of standing, whose opinions were respected and were worthy of respect. The family first went to Ipswich, but soon settled in Newbury; and the name is still pre- served and respected in the vicinity. The elder Pike lived in Newbury dur- ing the most of his life, accumulating a good estate for those times; in his old age leaving his Newbury farm in charge of a tenant, Samuel Moore, he ~vent to reside with his son Robert in Salisbury. Robert Pike was educated in Eng- land, and his letters give evidence that his advantages xvere considerably above the ordinary. The handwriting is bold and flowing, and the language and thought are those of a man accus- tomed to think accurately and to ex- press his thoughts in fitting language. At the age of twenty-one, March 17, 1637, he took the oath of a freeman, which gave him the right to vote in the colony, and he became a citizen of Newbury. In 1639 he joined a party of sixty- five persons who removed from New- bury to Salisbury, on the other bank of the river, where the upland soil is far less fertile, while the salt marsh is extensive and accessible. At the age of twenty-three Robert Pike settled here xvithin sight of a long stretch of the river and the sea, and here he re- mained during the sixty-seven years of the rest of life, and here he was bnried at the end thereof. Salisbury was incorporated October 7, 1640, and at the time of its settle- ment by Robert Pike and for some time afterwards it was the frontier town of Massachusetts and bore the brunt of Indian inroads and mas- sacres, from which it suffered, while Newbury was saved at the expense of Salisbury and Haverhill, which stood as a bulwark between the older town and the savage invaders. The sitrfa- tion made all the men soldiers, and Pike early became an officer and rose to the rank of major; during the lat- ter part of his life, and long after his death, he was known and remembered as Major IRobert Pike. He settled as a farmer in Salisbury, on the border of the marshes, receiv- ing his moderate allotment of the sandy upland and salt marsh, of which he appears to have made the best, as he must have been a thrifty farmer. This, and his superior education, were recognized in 1644, when he was bare- ly twenty-eight years old. The records of the General Court for that year show the following entry: Ordered, that Samuel Dudley, Robert Pike and John Sanders have the power to end small causes at Salisbury. From this time to the end of his life he held pub- lic office, except for the three years when he had a contest with the Gen- eral Court, in which he was right and the Court wrong, and, irritated by a half consciousness that this was their relation, the Court disfranchised him. In 1647 the Court approved his elec- tion as lieutenant of the Salisbury train-band. For the years 1648 and 1649 he was elected a member of the General Court, and in the latter year 28 ROBERT PIKE. was appointed on the Committee on Courts, the Treasury, Shires, etc. In 1650 he was chosen one of three com- missioners of Norfolk County, to sit as the assistants of the magistrates in holding the county courts. In i6~i the General Court appointed him one of three commissioners to lay out and establish the line between the towns of Hampton and Exeter, then within the Massachusetts jurisdiction. In 1652 he was chosen, with Messrs. Wins- low and Bradbury, to establish the western boundary of Hampton. These recorded events show that by the time Robert Pike was thirty-six years old he was recognized as one of the able men of the province and that he was intrusted with and had acquired ex- perience in important public affairs. At this point his life became of per- manent interest as that of the pioneer of principles that have since become dear to Americans, and especially so to the people of New England. These principles are the right of free speech, the right of petition, the right of the people to criticise the doings of their representatives in the legislature, and the sense of the wrong of convicting accused persons upon insufficient evi- dence, as was done in the Salem witchcraft trials. Robert Pike de- fended the right of the Quakers to speak. and was disfranchised by the General Court in punishment, because in doing so he had criticised the action of that body. During the witchcraft trials of 1692, he made an argument which was powerful and at length convincing against the justice of the convictions. While he was strictly or- thodox in the theology of the time, these things show that he was firm as a champion of civil freedom. This fact is further illustrated in his quarrel with his pastor, Rev. John Wheel- wright, a man of domineering will, for which contumacy Pike was for a while excommunicated from the church. It would not have been remarkable if a cranky reformer, of whom there were many at that time, had got into such controversies and troubles; but all that we can learn of Pike indicates that he was not only orthodox in theology, but conservative and distin- guished by sound common sense, a wise man who viewed practical mat- ters in their true bearings, without prejudice and without passion. As he was generally right, and was of firm and determined will, when he met op- posing firm wills there was sharp col- li sion. It seems that there were a Joseph Peasley and a Thomas Macy in Salis- bury, who were accustomed to hold forth their doctrine to the people on the Sabbath in the absence of the min- ister. They were both of a Baptist sect in the town, and were inclined to Q uakerism. Macy was the first settler of Nantucket afterwards, and Pike one of the proprietors of the island when Macy emigrated thither. In orde~r to stop the preaching o fthe two sectaries the General Court enacted a law making it a misdemeanor for any one to preach on the Sabbath who was not a regularly ordained minister. With regard to this law Robert Pike de- clared that those members who had voted for it had violated their oaths as freemen; that their act was against the liberty of the country, both civil and ecclesiastical, and that he stood ready to make his declaration good. The old notion that the magistrate holds by divine right and is above criticism still prevailed extensively, notwithstanding the fact that the members of the General Court were chosen by the people of the towns. The Court had never been subjected to adverse criticism before, and the members were horrified at the blas- phemy, as it seemed to their sensitive souls. Wherefore they passed an or- der declaring that Lieutenant Robert Pike had been guilty of defaming the General Court, and ordered that he should be disfranchised, disabled from holding any public office, bound to his good behavior, and fined twenty marks, equal to thirteen pounds, six shillings and eight pence. This act of the Court stirred up the ROBERT PIKE. 29 righteous souls of the people of Salis- bury and Newbury especially, where were Pikes family ties; and the ex- citement spread to Hampton, Haver- hill and Andover. Petitions were sent to the General Court, signed by near- ly all the freemen of these towns, ear- nestly entreating the General Court to remit the fine and take off the dis- ability imposed on Lieutenant Pike. This action o fthe private citizens only added fuel to the flame. The General Court looked upon the daring act of petition as in the nature of insurrec- tion, and the following order appoint- ing a commission was adopted: The Court cannot but deeply re- sent that so many persons of several towns, conditions and relations should combine together to present such an unjust and unreasonable request as the revoking the sentence passed the last Court against Lieutenant Pike, arid the restoring him to his former liberty, without any petition of his own, or at least acknowledgment of his offence, fully proved against him, which was no less than defaming this Court and charging them with breach of oath, etc., which the petitioners call some words let fall by occasion. The Court doth therefore order, in this ex- traordinary case, that commissioners be appointed in the several towns namely, 1\Ir. Bradstreet for Andover and Haverhill, Captain Gerrish and Nicholas Noyes for Newbury, Mr. Winslow and Mr. Bradbury for Sal- isbury, and Captain Wiggan for Hamptonwho shall have full power to call the said petitioners together, or so many of them at a time as they think meet, and require a reason of their unjust request, and how they came to be induced to subscribe to the said petition, and so to make return to the next session, that the Court may consider further how to proceed therein. As a descendant of one of these commissioners, Nicholas Noyes, the writer makes this late amends for the part he took in a controversy in which the Court and he were wholly wrong and Robert Pike was wholly right. The original offence was one that would now be held to be the as- sertion of a truism, that others than ordained ministers have a right to speak on Sunday to an assembly; and the offence of the petitioners was the assertion of one of the most cherished rights of American citizens of later times, the right of petition. The course which the Court took is in- structive. The members had the old notions of government by divine right and that the governed had no other rights than to submit. On the other hand, the fact that the Court was elected by the citizens was working as a powerful lever to modify this view and to temper the wind of wrath be- fore it seriously touched the rebellious lambs. The commissioners proceeded to their task, dividing their work as pre- scribed in the order. The majority was overawed and apologized more or less abj.ectly for their disrespect toward the authority of the Great and General Court of Massachusetts; but a minority of about one-fifth of the signers refused to make any apology, and defended and justified their action. Thus boldly stood out eight from Newbury, five from Salisbury, besides Pike himself, and two from Hamp- ton. Here were sixteen men who, in an age of intolerance, in an age when the right of the ruler was held to be from God, and as against this the gov- erned had no rights, asserted and maintained at considerable peril the rights of free speech, for sectaries in- cluded, and of petition on the part of the citizens. They deserve to have their names remembered; they were: Of NewburyJohn Emery, Sr., John Hall, Benjamin Swett, John Bishop, Joseph Plummer, Daniel Thurston, Jr., Daniel Cheney, John Wolcot. Of Salisbury Samuel Hollis, Philip Challis, Joseph Fletcher, Andrew Greeley, George Morton. Of Hampton Christopher Hussey, John Sanborn. 30 ROBERT PIKE. These fifteen were each bound in the sum of ten pounds to appear for trial in the county courts; and here the matter, so far as relates to them, appears to have dropped. Meanwhile Pikes disfranchisement continued for three years. It galled a man of his active public spirit, as neither he nor the fifteen who stood by him were desirous of making them- selves conspicuous as reformers or heretics, but were orthodox in religion and in their political and social princi- ples. Pike paid his fine; and his friend and pastor, Rev. Mr. Worcester, who was settled over the church in Salis- bury from 1639-40 to 1663, presented a petition to the Court on his behalf and urged as a personal favor to him- self that the sentence of disfranchise- ment be revoked. Accordingly the Court on October 23, 1657, granted the request, reciting in the order therefor these facts in regard to the advocacy of Mr. Worcester. The peo- ple of Salisbury very promptly exhib- ited their sense of the merits of the case by electing Lieutenant Pike to represent them in the General Court, and he took his seat May 19, 1658. The Court retaliated by enactincr~ That Quakers, and such accursed heretics arising among ourselves, may be dealt xvith according to their deserts, and that their pestilent errors and practices may speedily be pre- vented, it is hereby ordered, as an ad- dition to the former law against Quakers, that every such person or persons professing any of their per- nicious ways, by speaking, writing, or by meeting on the Lords Day, or any other time, to strengthen themselves or seduce others to their diabolical doctrine, shall, after due means of con- viction, incur the penalty ensuing: that is, every person so meeting shall pay to the county for every time ten shillings, and every one speaking in such meeting shall pay five pounds apiece; and in case any such person has been punished by scourging or whipping the first time, according to the former laws, shall be still kept at work in the House of Correction till they put in security, with two suf- ficient men, that they shall not any more vent their hateful errors, or use their sinful practices, or else shall de- part this jurisdiction at their own charge; and if any of them return again, then each such person shall in- cur the penalty of the laws made for strangers. This law seems to have been sug- gested by the election of a supposed friend of Quakers to the Court. Yet they found work for the man whom their own act had kept out of public life for three years; and on the 26th of May, 1658, Lieutenant Pike and three others were appointed to reopen a case relating to a sawmill on Exeter River, and report upon the same at the next session of the Court. The new law against the Quakers began its work of terror upon that people during the summer of i6~8, and went on until some of them were executed and the crown interfered for their protection. The favor of the King toward the Roman Catholics, and the Protestantism of the English people and Parliament, made for the time a Catholic sovereign the cham- pion of tolerance toward Quakers; and in i66i the King annulled the ac- tion of the General Court against this sect and forbade all further proceed- ings ag~ainst them. Meanwhile Macy, who had no ambition to figure as a persecuted man or to testify on the gal- lows, resolved to settle in Nantucket, where no white man had yet lived, and which was inhabited by about three thousand savages. He and a number of neighbors negotiated for the pur- chase of the island. There was con- siderable difficulty in settling the titles, but the deed was at last ex-. ecuted, July 2, 1659. The conveyance was to Tristram Coffin, Thomas IvIacy, Christopher Hussey, Richard Swayne, Thomas Barnard, Peter Coffin, Stephen Greenleaf, John Swayne and William Pike, the seller, Thomas Mayhew of Water- ROBERT PIKE. town, reserving a twentieth share for himself. It was agreed to admit ten other partners, of whom Robert Pike was one, he sharing the interest of Christopher Hussey. Pike apparently retained his interest until his death, upwards of forty years afterwards. Notwithstanding his friendly relations with the Quakers, Pike henceforward preserved his influence in Massachu- setts, and at the time of this action the people of Salisbury elected him to the General Court. In 1663 Captain Robert Pike was appointed one of a committee of thir- teen members of the Court for draw- ing up a reply to a letter of King Charles II. In 1665 he was appointed a magistrate for the county of Nor- folk, which embraced the towns north of the Merrimac. In 1667 he was a commissioner to consider the petition of the people of Exeter for the en- largement of their town; and in i668 he was appointed on a commission to settle affairs in Maine, but for some reason declined to act. Indeed during the rest of his life he appears promi- nent in the public affairs of the prov- ince, and in 1682 xvas promoted from the place of deputy in the General Court to that of Assistant. The Board of Assistants were counsellors to the Governor, and from their number the governors were usually chosen. The office was more permanent than that of deputy, and Pike was continued in it until his final retirement from office when he was eighty years old. Another side of Robert Pikes char- acter appears in a controversy which he had with another remarkable man, which lasted for about two years from 1675. Rev. John Wheelwright, the friend of Cromwell, an able and good man, had a good deal of the Scotch thistle in his character. Wheelwright suc~. ceeded Mr. Worcester, the friend and pastor of Major Pike. The major evi- dently had a sharp side to his temper. The minister was the undisputed great man of every town where there was not a resident magistrate; and where 3 there was, the latter felt himseii to be the social equal of the parson. There is no record to show what the original ground of the quarrel was; but given the position and character of the two men, and it was inevitable. The miii- ister excommunicated the magistrate, and the magistrate issued a writ sum- moning the minister to appear before him. The pastor accused his parish- ioner of lying, reviling, railing, with furious, outrageous behavior~ with constant pleading the wicked causes of delinquents, and the quarrel threatened to divide the church, when the county, and at last the General Court, interfered, and it was decided that Wheelwright should not excommunicate Major Pike, and that Magistrate Pikes summons is- sued against his pastor was illegal; and so the contest was settled, the major being restored to full fellov~- ship in the church, and the minister dying about two years later, aged eighty-five. What the precise origin of this note of discord was is immaterial, but it casts a light on the character of each. VVhee lxvright, xve know, was an impetuous, domineering person, and Pike was firm as a rock, and on this occasion appears to have let his resentment get the better of his judg- ment. So each had to yield somewhat to the other, compelled by the best public opinion. Before this episode, in 1670, such jealousies and disorders had spread among the officers of the militia of Norfolk County and Piscataqua that it was necessary to subject them to the discipline of a superior officer, and Robert Pike, who was then a member of the General Court and captain of the Salisbury troop, was appointed sergeant-i-najor, under whose com- mand they might be (Irawn together and exercised in regimental service, as the law directeth. During King Philips war, 675-1677, there were threats of attack upon this frontier, which kept Major Pike busy and the people in constant alarm, hut there was no serious battle. During the last 32 ROBERT PIKE. year of the war a matter of interest is recorded. For one hundred days ser- vice of horse and man in the field, with all other expenses and charges, Major Pikes bill against the public treasury was twenty pounds, and as the pound was then worth four dollars, the bill was for eighty dollars, which was au~ dited by the officers of militia of the town of Salisbury and was by them pronounced very low, and we should confirm their estimate. This bill, however, was rejected by one or the other branch of the General Court, of which Major Pike was a member, by reason of jealousy between the deputies and the magistrates, but it was finally passed and paid. In the year succeeding the war Pike was ap- pointed associate justice of the Nor- folk County Courts, and for that of Dover and Portsmouth. The records of the County Court show that on May 4, i68o, Major Robert Pike was convicted for pro- faning the Sabbath, and was fined ten shillings, with eight shillings costs. The prosecution was brought by a person who had an old grudge to set- tle, and who found his opportunity when the major had started on a jour- ney and crossed the Merrimac to New- bury, at the ferry probably, a little be- fore sunset, when the Sabbath ceased in those days. As the sun set in a cloud, it was not quite certain that Major Pike had broken the Sabbath; but the witnesses were willing, and the major and magistrate had to pay. The conviction does not seem to have in- jured his standing, as this was very shortly before Pike was promoted to be Assistant, the office next in dignity to that of the Governor and Lieutenant Governor. Numerous letters of Pike are extant covering a considerable period from this time, on Indian difficulties, which indicate a brave and prudent, but also a just and humane man. He took prom- inent part iii negotiating treaties with the Indians, and in one of his letters to the Governor and Council, dated Salis- bury at midnight, June 19, 1691, he says of the Indians: But I shall not further trouble your honors, but only to consent with you in this, that I had rather be wronged by them than to break our faith with them. Though the settlers were at times in great dis- tress by reason of Indian raids, so that they were obliged to neglect their farming operations and were in peril of famine, happily there was no gen- eral attack upon the settlements near the mouth of the Merrimac, and this immunity xvas in large degree due to the vigilance, wisdom and courage of Major Pike. The Salem witchcraft proceedings have been given a prominence which leaves the impression that the Puritans in Massachusetts were more supersti- tious and benighted than the rest of the world. Vastly greater numbers were executed for the alleged crime of witchcraft in every European country, and the excuse is made that it was done in times of ignorance. In Mas- sachusetts, Judge Sewall came to see and repent and confess that the victims had been convicted on insufficient evi- dence; and the confession has been turned against the whole people of the colony of that day, instead of being recognized as dawning light which ap- peared here earlier than it did else- where. Robert Pike was not ever car- ried away by the witchcraft delusion, though he doubtless held to the belief, then universal, in the reality of witches and witchcraft. At the time of the out- break in 1692, he was seventy-six years old, and was a member of the Council, or an Assistant, as it was then called. There is a plausible explanation of the intelligent view taken of the witch- craft trials of this time by Major Pike. One of the accused was Mary Brad- bury, wife of one of the most promi- nent citizens of Salisbury, a woman of the same age as himself, and whose son, Wymond Bradbnry, had married Sarah Pike, the majors eldest daugh- ter. He defended Mrs. Bradbury in a long argument which has been pre- served. It loses most of its force now ROBERT PIKE. that nobody believes in witchcraft, as it proceeds upon the assumption of the reality and prevalence of such a crime. The argument is aimed at the insuffi- ciency of proof, and is summarized in the beginning of his letter addressed to Jonathan Corwin, one of the judges, as follows: I further humbly present to con- sideration the doubtfulness and un- safety of admitting spectre testimony against the life of any who are of blameless conversation, and plead in- nocent, from the uncertainty of them; for, as for diabolical visions, appari- tions, or representations, they are more commonly false and delusive than real, and can- not be known when they are real and when feigned, but by the devils re- port, and then not to be believed, be- cause be is the father of lies. i. Either the organ of the eye is abused, and the senses deluded, so as to think they do see or hear some. thing or person when indeed they do not, and this is frequent with com- mon jugglers. 2. The devil himself appears in the shape or likeness of a person or thing, when it is not the person or thing itself; so he did in the shape of Samuel. 3. And sometimes persons or things themselves do really appear, but how is it possible for any one to give a true testimony who possibly did see neither shape nor person, but were deluded, and if they did see anything, they know not whether it was the person or but his shape. All that can be rationally or truly said in such a case is this: that I did see the 33 shape or likeness of such a person, if my senses or eyesight were not de- luded; and they can honestly say no more, because they know no more, ex- cept the devil tells them more; and if he do, they can but say he told them so. But the matter is still incredible: first, because it is but their saying the devil told them so; if he did so tell them, yet the verity of the thing still remains unproved, because the devil was a liar and a murderer (John VIII., 44), and may tell these lies to murder an innocent person.~~ The argument did not avail to save Mary Bradbury from conviction and sentence, but she escaped execution, and though there were several other trials of persons of these towns for witchcraft, no one from Newbury or Salisbury was exe- cuted. This appar- ently was due to Major Robert Pikes influence more than to any- thing else. His last day of service in the Board of Assist- ants was at the ses- sion in Boston on May 27, 1696. He then retired to the care of his farm and property, all of which, except what he thought he needed for his own use, he dis- posed of by gift, making his son John trustee and attorney. He thus disposed of his estate, and left no will, since his will had been executed be- fore his death. He lived to be nearly ninety-one years old, and died De- cember 12, 1706, honored by his neighbors to a degree that has pre- served his memory among the de- scendants to the present time as that of a commanding figure in his own day. All that we have recorded con- ROBERT PIKE. 34 ROBERT PIKE. cerning him fully justifies this esti- mate. Tradition says that he was of strong build and of imposing presence, and the great age to which he lived shows that his constitution was vigorous; and there is no mention of his having any sickness. He was twice married, first to Sarah Sanders, on April 3, 1641 by whom he had eight children; and second, in 1685, to Martha Goldwire, a widow, by whom he had no children. Martha survived her husband over six years, having died on February 26, 1713. From xvhat has been related from the record, we can form some concep- tion of the attainments and character of Major Robert Pike. He had evi- dently been well educated in England. His writings indicate this. They are not only marked by good sense, a lib- eral spirit and sound judgment, but they are expressed in better English than most of the New England Puri- tans used. His intelligence and integ- rity are also indicated in the universal confidence of all with whom he came into association. His fellow towns- men and neighbors of adjacent towns seem to have placed implicit confi- dence in his character and ability while he was yet but a young man, and they never lost their trust. When he entered upon a wider field he inspired like respect for himself in all the lead- ing men of the colony, and he was in- trusted with the conduct of the most important affairs. A man of less stam- ina and hold upon the people would have been overwhelmed by the sen- tence of disfranchisement by the Gen- eral Court, from which Robert Pike recovered and stood higher than ever by his victory. The cause of the disfranchisement further marks the character of the man. It was primarily his champion- ship of the right of free speech in con- demning the General Court for silenc- ing Peasley and Macy, and this led up to his becoming a hero in asserting the right of petition when that was almost a novelty, and was in exceeding bad odor with the ruling class every- where. Robert Pike was for freedom and progress. That he was in ad- vance of his age is manifest not only in this incident, but in the fact that he got into a smaller trouble as a Sab- bath breaker. And the same is still further shown by his firm stand against the witchcraft mania. On the other hand, he was not so far in ad- vance of his fellow-citizens as to par- alyze his leadership. He was orthodox in religion, and when Wheelwright ventured to excommunicate him from the church it was for quarreling with that domineering pastor, and not for heterodoxy. He evidently had one infirmity, common among men of commanding will: he did not always keep control of his temper. Doubt- less he was greatly provoked by the denunciations of Mr. Wheelwright, but he allowed himself to go beyond his own legitimate authority in retalia- tion. It is creditable to both pastor and magistrate that they could be brought to listen to reason and be- come reconciled after such aggravated cause of quarrel. Major Pike was a prominent type of the settlers of New- bury, who were more independent and less subservient to their ministers than were most of the Puritans of Massa- chusetts. For years there was a con- test between Mr. Parker, the first min- ister of Newbury, and several of his church, who rejected his claim to spir- itual authority. So Robert Pike found sympathetic supporters among his neighbors in his revolt against arbi- trary authority and his stand for free- dom, as he did afterward in the stand he took against receiving dreams and surmises as evidence to send men and women to the gallows under the cloud of a cruel superstition. As typical of such a class, and the foremost and probably the ablest of them all, the name of Robert Pike deserves to be remembered. 35

35 CUTTYHUNK. By Arthur Olevelaud Hall. WENTY miles south of New Bedford, where Buzzards Bay opens into the broad Atlantic, lies Cutty- hunk. The little ~ island is almost un- known now, but it played an im- portant part in history nearly three hundred years ago. Here was located the first settlement by Europeans on New England shores, if we except the coming of the Northmen to Vineland. The ruins of the house the settlers built could still be seen early in the present century, and the information obtained from Cuttyhunk in 1602 was most useful in inducing the English emigration to New England which followed. While Good Queen Bess was yet alive, and but fourteen years after the Spanish Armada dashed it- self to pieces on the British coast, Cap- tam Bartholomew Gosnold did set sail from Falmouth, on the five and twentieth of March, 1602, being Fri- day, in a small bark of Dartmouth called The Concord, holding a course for the north part of Virginia. There accompanied him 32 persons, where- of eight (were) mariners and sailors, twelve proposing upon the discovery to return with the ship for England, the rest to remain there for popula- tion. Among these bold voyagers, two, Gabriel Archer, gentleman and jour- nalist, and M. John Brereton, wrote accounts of the expedition. In the following pages these old manuscripts, of necessity much condensed, are fol- lowed as closely as possible. The names of the ships company, so far as they are known to us, were Bartholomew Gosnold, commander; Bartholomew Gilbert, second officer; 36 GOSNOLDS ISLAND.

CUTTYHUNK. By Arthur Olevelaud Hall. WENTY miles south of New Bedford, where Buzzards Bay opens into the broad Atlantic, lies Cutty- hunk. The little ~ island is almost un- known now, but it played an im- portant part in history nearly three hundred years ago. Here was located the first settlement by Europeans on New England shores, if we except the coming of the Northmen to Vineland. The ruins of the house the settlers built could still be seen early in the present century, and the information obtained from Cuttyhunk in 1602 was most useful in inducing the English emigration to New England which followed. While Good Queen Bess was yet alive, and but fourteen years after the Spanish Armada dashed it- self to pieces on the British coast, Cap- tam Bartholomew Gosnold did set sail from Falmouth, on the five and twentieth of March, 1602, being Fri- day, in a small bark of Dartmouth called The Concord, holding a course for the north part of Virginia. There accompanied him 32 persons, where- of eight (were) mariners and sailors, twelve proposing upon the discovery to return with the ship for England, the rest to remain there for popula- tion. Among these bold voyagers, two, Gabriel Archer, gentleman and jour- nalist, and M. John Brereton, wrote accounts of the expedition. In the following pages these old manuscripts, of necessity much condensed, are fol- lowed as closely as possible. The names of the ships company, so far as they are known to us, were Bartholomew Gosnold, commander; Bartholomew Gilbert, second officer; 36 GOSNOLDS ISLAND. CUTTYHUNK. 37 Robert Saltern. who was afterwards a clergyman; Gabriel Archer, gentle- man and journalist; John Angel, Wil- liam Streete, John Brereton, Robert Meriton and Tucker. The wind favored us not at first, but enforced us so far to the south- ward, as we fell in with St. Mary, one of the islands of the Azores; but hold- ing our course directly from thence we made our journey shorter (than hither- to accustomed) by the better part of a thousand leagues. Yet were we longer in our passage than we expected, for that our bark being weak, also our sailors few and they none of the best, we bear (except in fair weather) but low sail. Besides, our going upon an unknown coast made us not over-bold to stand in with the shore but in open weather. On Friday, the 14th of May, early in the morning, we made the land, be- ing full of fair trees, the land some- what low, certain hommocks or hills lying into the land, the shore full of white sand, but very stony or rocky. And standing fair along by the shore, about twelve of the clock the same day, we came to an anchor, where eight Indians in a Basque shallop with mast and sail, an iron grapple and a kettle of copper, came boldly aboard of us; one of them appareled with a waistcoat and breeches of black serge, made after our sea fashion, hose and shoes on his feet. All the rest were naked, saving near their waists seal- skins tied fast like Irish dimmie trow- sers. These people are of tall stature, broad and grim visage, of a black swart complexion, their eyebrows painted white; their weapons bows and arrows. It seemed by some words and signs they made that some Basques of St. John de Luz have fished or traded in this place, being in the latitude of 43 degrees. Coasting along to the southwest, we came to anchor near a great cape, where in five or six hours we had pestered our ship so with codfish that we threw numbers of them overboard again; and surely I am persuaded that there is upon this coast better fishing than in Newfoundland, wherefore we named the place Cape Cod. Sailing round about this headland almost all the points of the compass, we were come at length amongst many fair islands, all lying within a league or two one of another, and the outermost not above 5 or 7 leagues form the main. Coming to an an- chor under one of these, Captain Gos- nold and some others of us went ashore, and going about it, we found it OF CUTTYHUNK. 38 CUTTYHUNK. to be four English miles in compass, the place most pleasant, but without house or inhabitant. The chief est trees of this island are beeches and cedars, the outward parts all over- grown with low, bushy trees three or four feet in height, which bear some kind of fruit, as appeared by their blossoms; strawberries, red and white, as sweet and much bigger than ours in England; raspberries, gooseberries, whortleberries and such an incredible store of vines, as well in the woody parts of the island, where they run upon every tree, as on the outward parts, that we could not go for tread- ing upon them; also many springs of excellent, sweet water, and a great standing lake of fresh water an Eng- lish mile in compass, which is main- tained with the springs running ex- ceeding pleasantly through the woody grounds, which are very rocky. This island we named Marthas Vineyard [now No-mans-Land, a desolate isl- and just west of the present Marthas Vineyard]. Here also we saw great store of deer, diverse fowls in great plenty, also great store of pease, which grow in certain plots all the island over; and on the north side we found many huge bones and ribs of whales. The four and twentieth of May we set sail and doubled the cape of an- other island next unto this, which we called Dover Cliff [now called Gay Head, at the west end of Marthas Vineyard], and then came into a fair sound, where we rode all night. The next morning we sent off one boat to discover another cape that lay north- west of this, between us and the main, from which were a ledge of rocks a mile into the sea, but all above water and without danger [now known as the Sow and Pigs reef]. We went about them and came to anchor in 8 fathoms, a quarter of a mile from the shore, in one of the stateliest sounds that ever II was in [Buzzards Bay]. This called we Gosnolds Hope, the north bank whereof is the main, which stretcheth east and west. This island Captain Gosnold called Elizabeths Isle [now Cuttyhunk], where we de- termined our abode. It containeth many pieces or necks of land, which differ nothing from sev- eral islands, saving that certain banks of small breadth do like bridges join them to this island. In mid-May we did sow (for a trial) in sundry places wheat, barley, oats and pease, which in 14 days were sprung up 9 inches and more. The soil is fat and lusty, and the sowing or setting is no greater labor than if you should set or sow in one of our best prepared gardens in England. This island is full of high timbered oaks, their leaves thrice so CUTTYHUNK. 39 broad as ours; cedars straight and tall, beech, elm, holly, walnut trees in abundance, hazie-nut trees, cherry trees, sassafras trees, great plenty all over the island, a tree of high price and profit; also divers other fruit trees, some of them with strange barks of an orange color, in feeling soft and smooth like velvet. In the thickest part of these woods you may see a furlong or more round about. On the northwest side of this isl- and is a stage or pond of fresh water, in circuit two miles, on the one side not distance from the sea 30 yards, in the centre whereof is a rocky islet con- taining near an acre of ground full of wood, on which we began our fort and place of abode disposing itself so fit for the same. This lake is full of small tortoises, and exceedingly fre- quented with all sorts of fowl, much bigger than ours in England. Also in every island and almost in every part of every island are great store of ground-nuts, 40 together on a string, some of them as big as hens eggs; they grow not two inches under- ground, the which nuts we found to be as good as potatoes. Also divers sorts of shellfish, as scollops, muscles, cockles, lobsters, crabs, oysters and wilks, exceeding good and very great. But not to cloy you with particular rehearsals of such things as God and Nature hath bestowed on these places, in comparison whereof the most fertile part of England is but barren,we went in our light horseman from this island to the main, right against this island some two leagues off, where coming ashore, we stood a while like men ravished at the beauty and deli- cacy of this sweet soil; for besides divers clear lakes of fresh water, meadows very large and full of green grass, even the most woody places do grow so distinct from one another upon green grassy ground as if Na- ture would show herself above her power, artificial. Immediately there presented unto us Indians, men, women and children, who, with all courteous kindness, entertained us, giving Captain Gosnold certain skins of wild beasts, which may be rich furs, tobacco, turtles, hemp, artificial strings colored, chains and such like things as at the instant they had about them. These are a fair conditioned people, who being emboldened by our cour- teous visage and some trifles which we gave them, followed us to a neck of land which we imagined had been sev- ered from the main; but finding it otherwise, we perceived a broad har- bor or rivers mouth which ran up into the main, and because the day was far spent we were forced to return to the island from whence we came, leaving the discovery of this harbor [probably THE vILLAGE. 40 CUTTYHUNK. New Bedford harbor] for a time of better leisure. The next day, being the first of June, we employed ourselves in get- ting sassafras and the building of our fort on the little island in the lake be- fore mentioned. On the following day we wrought hard to make ready our house for the provisions to be had ashore to sustain us till our ships re- turn, in building whereof we spent three weeks, covering the house with sedge, which grew about this lake in great abundance. Now, on the fifth of June, as we continued our labor, there came unto us ashore from the main ~o savages, stout and lusty men, with their bows and arrows; among them there seemed to be one of authority, because the rest made an inclining respect unto him. The ship was, at their coming, a league off, and Captain Gosnold aboard, and so likewise Captain Gilbert, who almost never went ashore, the company with me (Gabriel Archer) only 8 persons. These Indians in hasty manner came towards us, so as we thought fit to make a stand at an angle between the sea and the fresh water, being loath they should discover our fortification. I moved my- self towards him 7 or 8 steps and clapped my hands, first on the sides of my head, then on my breast, and after presented my musket with a threat- ening countenance, there- by to signify unto them either a choice of peace or war; whereupon he using me with mine own signs of peace, I stepped forth and embraced him; his company then all sat down in a manner like grey- hounds, upon their heels, with whom my company fell a bartering. By this time Captain Gosnold was come with 12 men more from aboard, and to show the savage seignior that he was our captain, we re- ceived him in a guard, which he pass- ing through saluted the seignior with ceremonies of our salutations, whereat he nothing moved or altered himself. Our captain gave him a straw hat and a pair of knives; the hat a while he wore, but the knives he beheld with great marveling, being very bright and sharp; thus our courtesy made them very much in love with us. On the seventh the seignior came again with all his troop as before, and continued with us the most part of the day eating and drinking with us. The THE CLUB-HOUSE GARDEN. THE CLUB-HOUSE. CUTTYHUNK. 4 rest of the day we spent in trading with them for furs, which are beavers, luzernes, martins, otters, wildcat skins, very large and deep fur; black foxes, coney skins of the color of our hares, deer skins, very large; seal skins and other beasts skins to us unknown. They have also great store of copper, some very red and some of a paler color; none of them but have chains, earrings or collars of this metal. They head some of their arrows herewith much like our broad arrow-heads, very work- manly made. Their chains are many hol- low pieces ce- mented togeth- er, each piece of the bigness of one of our reeds, a finger in length, io or 12 of them to- gether on a string, which they wear about their necks. Their collars they wear about their bodies like bandeliers a handful broad, all hollow pieces like the other, but somewhat shorter, 400 pieces in a collar, very fine and evenly set to- gether. Besides these they have large drinking-cups made like sculls, and other thin plates of copper made much like our boar-spear blades. The necks of their pipes are made of clay hard dried; the other part is a piece of hol- low copper, very firmly closed and cemented together. All of which they so little esteem, as they offered their fairest collars or chains for a knife or such like trifle; but we seemed little to regard it. Yet I was desirous to understand where they had such store of this metal, and made signs to one of them with whom I was very famil- iar, who, taking a piece of copper in his hand, made a hole with his fin- ger in the ground and withal pointed to the main from whence they came. These Indians call gold wessador, which argueth there is thereof in the country. They strike fire in this manner: Every one carrieth about him in a purse of tewed leather a mineral stone (which I take to be their copper), and with a flat emery stone (wherewith glazers cut glass and cutlers glaze blades) tied fast to the end of a little stick, gently he striketh upon the min- eral stone, and within a stroke or two a spark falleth upon a piece of touch- wood (much like our sponge in Eng- land, and with the least spark he mak- eth a fire presently. We had also of their flax, wherewith they make many strings and cords, but it is not so bright of color as ours in England. I am persuaded they have great store upon the main, as also mines and many other rich commodities which we, wanting both time and means, could not possibly discover. These people, as they are exceed- ing courteous, gentle of disposition and well conditioned, excelling all others that we have seen, so for shape of body and lovely favor I think they excel all the people of America; of stature much higher than we; of com THE POST-OFFICE. 42 CUTTYHUNK. plexion or color much like a dark olive; their eyebrows and hair black, which they wear long, tied up behind in knots, whereon they prick feathers of fowls in fashion of a coronet; some of them are black, thin bearded; they make beards of the hair of beasts, and one of them offered a beard of their making to one of our sailors for his that grew on his face, which, because it was of a red color, they judged to be none of his own. They are quick- eyed and steadfast in their looks, fear- less of others harms, as intending none themselves: some of the meaner sort given to filching, which the very name of savages (not weighing their ignorance of good or evil) may easily excuse. Their garments are of deer skins, and some of them wear furs round and close about their necks. They pronounce our language with great facility; for one of them one day sitting by me, upon occasion I spoke, smiling to him, these words: How, now, sirrah, are you so saucy with my tobacco? which words (without any further repetition) he suddenly spake so plain and distinctly as if he had been a long scholar in the language. Many other such trials we had, which are here needless to repeat. Their women (such as we saw, which were but three in all,) were but low of stature, their eyebrows, hair, apparel and manner of wearing like to the men, fat and very well favored, and much delighted in our company; the men are very dutiful towards them. And truly, the wholesomeness and temperature of this climate doth not only argue this people to be answer- able to this description, but also of a perfect constitution of body, active. strong, healthful and very witty, as the sundry toys of theirs cunninglN~ wrought may eas- Hy witness. For theagreeingof this climate with us we found our health and strength all the while we re- mained there so to renew and increase as notwithstanding our diet and lodg- ing were none of the best, yet not one of our com- pany (God be thanked) felt the least grudging or inclination to any disease or sick- ness, but were much fattter and in better health than when we went out of England. But after our bark had taken in much sassafras, cedar, furs, skins and other commodities as were thought convenient, some of our company that had promised Captain Gosnold to stay, having nothing but a saving (i. c.. money-making,) voyage in their minds, made our company of inhabi- tants (which was small enough before) much smaller, so as Captain Gosnold, seeing his whole strength to consist but of twelve men, and they but meanly provided (with victuals), deter- mined to return for England, leaving -Q & A FISHERMANS HOME. CUTTYHUNK. 43 this island (which he called Elizabeths poplars near the houses on the east of Island) with as many true sorrowful the island; and two or three fruit trees, eyes as were before desirous to see it. solitary survivors of many planted, So the i8th of June, being Friday, we still struggle through the cold blasts of weighed, and with indif- ferent fair wind and weather, came to anchor the 23d day of July, being also Friday (in all bare five weeks) before Lx- mouth. In an appendix to the account of John Brereton, which he addressed to Sir Walter Raleigh, is A brief note of such com- modities as we saw in the country notwithstanding our small time of stay. These are classed under trees, fowls, beasts, fruits, CHURCH AND SCHOOL plants and herbs, fishes, colors, metals and stones. It is rather winter. Long, low sand bars, deeply amusing to find under fish whales, strewn with sea-worn stones, connect tortoises, seals, lobsters, crabs, inns- the different parts of the island as of cles,wilks, cockles, scollops, oysters old, and off to the west the reef of and, last of all, snakes four feet in Sow and Pigs spouts like a geyser length and six inches about, which in a storm. Rocky hillocks, inter- the Indians eat for dainty meat, the spersed with steep little valleys, where skins whereof they use for girdles. six or seven hundred sheep find pas- Cuttyhunk to-day is greatly changed ture, decline gradually to a fresh water from the fair, wooded island discov- pond on the northwest, where Gos- ered in 1602. The stately trees have nolds Islet rises green above the blue passed away. In 1858 not one was water. The identity of the places vis- ited by the bold voyagers of 1602 can scarcely be doubted, so minute and exact was their description of them. Early in this century the cellar of Gosnolds house and fort were distinctly to be seen; but un- fortunately since then the ground of his little island ha~ been ploughed over and cultivated; so that hardly a vestige of the ruin remains. Possibly a careful excavation would again reveal portions of the cellar which Dr. Belkuap, the his- torian, found on his visit to the island in 1797. In 1817 several members of the Massachusetts Historical Society visited the Elizabeth Islands (Gos- nolds name for Cuttyhunk having since been transferred to the entire THE LIFE-SAVING STATION. growing there; not even a decaying stump could be seen above ground. But now there are a few silver-leaf 44 CUTTYHUNK. group), and an account of their visit may be found in the fifth volume of the North American Review, from which I make the following extract: In the western end of the pond is a high islet surrounded by a rocky mar- gin and covered with a very rich soil. . . The stump of a red cedar stood near the shore, and we brought home a piece of it as a remembrance of our expedition. On the northern bank of the islet, about ten yards from the water, we found a small excavation overgrown with bushes and grass, on one side of which were three large stones in a row at the distance of three feet from each other, having under them other stones of the same size lying in the same direction. Between these were smaller stones, which ap- peared by their form and smoothness to have been taken from the beach. In another slight excavation twenty yards south of the former, near the centre and highest part of the islet, were similar stones, but very few in number and not disposed in any ap- parent order. On digging in other parts of the islet we found more of the same kind. We conjectured that the first excavation was all that remained of Gosnolds cellar and the latter a part of the trench dug for the purpose of forming the fort. The desirability of some simple monument to commemorate this first European settlement in New England, and in memory of Bartholomew Gos- nold, who died August 22d, 1607, and CUTTYHUNK. was buried in an unknown grave at Jamestown, Virginia, has often been suggested. Nearly three hunctred years have passed, and at present Gos- nolds Island is adorned with a de- serted henhouse. None of the Elizabeth Islands retain their primitive appearance, except Naushon, the largest of them. Here noble forests of beech, oak and other trees cover the land, while the wild grape and other vines grow luxuri- antly among the branches. The A WRECK AT CUTTYHUNK. 45 islands have all preserved their Indian names, which have been put into rhyme: Naushon. Nonamesset, Onkatonka and Wepecket, Nashawena, Pesquinese, Cuttyhunk and Penequese. Cuttyhunk is contracted from the Indian name Poo- cutohhunkounoh,which may mean Place of Departure. Q uawck was the Indian name for Gosnolds Islet. A lofty promontory run- ning out from the north of Cuttyhunk was called by the Indians Copicut, or Cappiquat, meaning thick, dark woods. This name it still bears. Canapitset is the name for the passage between Nashawena and Cuttyhunk. Nashanaw was the collective aborigi- nal name for the whole group, and probably means Our Fathers Islands. The modern visitor to Cuttyhunk will find much to reward him if he has eyes and ears to know the sea and the rocky, wreck-strewn shore; if he loves to feel the salt wind blow, full of life, from the bounding waves, and will watch the play of light and shade on the rainbow-colored cliffs of fair Gay Head. After a storm at sea great waves roll in around Cape Cod and Marthas Vineyard and hurl their thunderous snow upon the rocks of Cuttyhunk; often when all is fair oerhead. Some- times one may see great billows driv- ing in to the shore in the very teeth of a northeast gale, which cuts the foam from off their crests and tosses it, a wind-blown sheet of sparkling spray, far out behind each charging wave. The island affords almost nothing to do; but the beauty of it is the visitor to Cuttyhunk does not want to do anything. First impressions are likely to be amusing. A harbor with- out a wharf, a village without a street, country without a trampsuch is Cuttyhunk. The comint~ of the mail steamer is the event of the week, in THE LIFE-SAVING CREW AT PRACTICE. THE LIFE-SAVING CREW 46 CUTTYHUNK. the summer the event of each day. Entering the harbor a number of small catboats are seen, standing on and off, ready to convey passengers and bag- gage, live stock and freightwhatever comes their waythrough the nar- rows into the pond, where a land- ing can be made. The channel runs close to a long, low sand spit, covered completely with heaps of wave-washed stones and shattered wreckage. Mamma, what is that horrid thing with teeth ? asked a trembling little girl, as the boat swept toward a great, black, jaw-like wreck of a schooner s bow, high and dry on the rocks. When the tide runs out through the narrows and a head wind is blowing the island expressman comes into service before the baggage is put ashore. Over the stones and into the rushing water go the stout horse and wagon, a rope is heaved from the boat, and, thanks to the harmonious action of sail and horsepower, the boatload is soon safe beside the little dock in the quiet pond. Landing, you cross a bit of sea marsh by a narrow, raised causeway of boards. If two fat men meet here at high tide a retreat or a bath must follow. Such minor difficulties avoided, the way (made largely of old ship plank- ing) leads to the foot of the hill on which the strag- gling village rests. Here a short halt gives time to let down the bars from a gate and the party proceeds upwards a hundred yards or more to where a short flight of ship steps mounts securely beneath the wide, upright plank of a board fence. The upper planks have been remQved, and a lit- tle agility and cau- tion will enable the stranger to pass on his way rejoicing. Next you ascend to a partial opening in a stone wall, and higher still some strictly natural stone steps, surmounted by a swing- ing gate. Once on the other side, you have at- tained the goal of your desire, and are in the heart of the little settlement of perhaps twenty houses. Gates still confront you on every side, gates adorned with relics of many an old wreck and swinging open by aid of weights,a heavy ships pulley block or the shackle to an anchor. But the ways are free to allthe island dogs are as amiable as their kind-hearted ownersand, arrived at last under some hospitable roof, one learns the good results of sea breezes and recent gymnastics in satisfying a voracious appetite with delicious lobster, fish, fresh vegetables and many imported delicacies. Meanwhile the distribution of the mail is progressing at the postoffice, a whitewashed shed in the rear of one of the cottages. Here, before a large assemblage of the islanders, the post- master or his wife calls off the names of fortunate recipients, letter by letter, and then the meeting adjourns until A GLIMPSE OF THE ISLAND. CUTTYHUNK. 47 time for the next mail. If you do not happen to be present, and no one brings your mail, you can step into the deserted postoffice and look for your- self over the pile of letters yet uncalled for. No one thinks of locking up any- thing on the island. Why should they, when all are honest and almost every- body related, so that secrets are all in the family? Fifty years ago, when New Bedford and Fairhaven had almost four hun- dred whale ships, the Cuttyhunkers business was largely pilotage. Seven men earned a good living in this im- portant work; and there are still sev- eral pilots hailing from the island. Many a deed of daring or narrow es- cape from death one hears from their lips. Two of them were sailing one very foggy day in the Sound, when sud- denly a schooners bow loomed up right above them. Catch hold for your life! one pilot called to his fel- low and leaping on to the martingale, made his way quickly to the deck, where it required about a minute to make the astonished crew understand that they had run down a pilot boat and must lend a hand to rescue the other pilot. They found him clinging to the bowsprit chains, with just his head above water, and soon hauled him aboard. Next day the pilots, left on the lightship, discovered their boat bottom up, righted her, bailed her out, and went back to business as if noth- ing had happened. One pilot has named his fishing boat the Never Budge. Another catboat is called the Mikado, which, so a fisherman said, is the title of some big official, I dont remember just where. Hold on a bit. Yes, its Switzerland, thats where it is. The islanders are great borrowers. If a man is building a shed or doing anything for which some materials have failed to arrive from the main- land, he goes round among the neighbors till he finds suthin thatll do, and borrows it. A favorite Cut- tyhunk story relates how a man, buy- ing salt to cure his fish, purchased two bags full, one for use himself and one to lend friends. When any salt was borrowed it was always returned and put back; yet the bag for lending was empty almost as soon as that for home consumption. Lobstering- is now the principal business of the islanders. Formerly a successful man could lay by one thou- sand dollars besides supporting him- self during a good season, which lasts from March till late December. The years vary greatly; 1896 was the worst on record. In late September one man said he had not cleared twenty-five dollars over expenses. An old lob- sterman said he had seen a steady de THE SURF AT CUTTYHUNK. VINEYARD SOUND AND GAY HEAD (GOSNOLDS DOVER CLIFF) FROM CUTTYHUNK. From a painting by C, H. Gifford. CUTTYHUNK. 49 crease in the number of lobsters caught during the last twenty-two years. Laws have been passed to rem- edy this, fining anyone with lobsters under ten and a half inches long five dollars for each short lobster in his possession, but the laws are hard to enforce. One grizzled Cuttyhunker lives half the year in an old warehouse just above ordinary high water. In storms or very high tides everything on the ground floor is awash; but the old salt said: I dont mind that nothin. The salt water has been swashin round me all my life. All his household goods are safely stored away in the upper story underneath the eaves. A ladder with a rope hand-rail affords ready access. One long window has a can- vas shutter, fastened by rope lanyards when the wind blows too strong for comfort. I like ter live down here, said he. Its so handy to my work. I start off lobsterin sometimes tween three and four oclock in the mornin, and eat just a bite before startin. Get in nigh on ter two in the arternoon, hungry as a bear. Dont want ter have to climb way up to the village and wait to have things cooked. Here every- thin is handy, right by the dock. I eat whatevers ready while Im cookin suthin more, or when my wifes here, she cooks it. He is a strong, honest, quick-witted specimen of a Yankee fisherman grandfather, weighing a hundred and eighty pounds, working early and late, owning a farm in the centre of Mar- thas Vineyard and an orange grove in Florida. But he says: There aint nothin in farmin nowadays. The wife she says wool is sellin for only twelve an thirteen cents a pound. Think on it! As for the orange plan- tation, he declares: I wont never git my money back ag-am; but in winter he goes down South to have a look at it. The dock just in front of his ware- house is taken up in the autumn, the props knocked from under it, and all tied up and anchored as securely as possible on the bank; but the winter storms play havoc with it nevertheless. Cuttyhunk has a neat little school- house, a church and a library of three hundred books. The school is in ses- sion three-quarters of the year, and the church the other quarter; for it is only in the summer that the islanders can have a minister, or, more properly speaking, a young man who hopes some day to become a minister. The stores are in private houses and closely connected with the kitchen depart- ment. If the good housewife gets tired of keeping certain things for sale, a neighbor will undertake to supply them next season. The candy store moves often, occupying a dark closet now in this house, now in that. Forty or fifty people live on the isl- and all winter, fourteen households, besides the men at the life-saving sta- tion. Most of the hard work comes in the spring, summer and fall. In winter the men make lobster pots, smoke, play cards, lie around and take things easy. Almost all the islanders come from old New England stock. They are strong, courageous and hard-headed, slow to make friendships and slow to break them; true as steel to those they love, and hospitable to all who come to them. Until two years ago no horse had reached Cuttyhunk. The island turn- outs were two-wheeled carts, drawn each by a stout donkey. Cows, sheep, turkeys and hens roam freely almost everywhere. Old fishnets are hung on poles to protect flower-beds and choice bits of kitchen garden. With the exception of the few acres in and around the village, the whole island (of between six and seven hundred acres) is owned by the Cuttyhunk Fishing Club. The farm is rented out for five hundred dollars a year, but of late it has not been a success, although corn and other vegetables grow well. The reason seemed to be, as one of the natives expressed it: The man who runs the farm wont make nothin outin it. Cause why? He haint got no headpiece. CUTTYHUNK. The clubhouse stands on a bold bluff looking off on the broad Atlantic to the southwest and across Vineyard Sound, that highway of ships, to where Gay Head rises glorious from the waves. In 1864 some New York gentlemen discovered that striped bass could be caught from the rocks of Cut- tyhunk. A club was soon organized, and the clubhouse erected. Its walls are decorated with paintings of great fish caught; but the bass have de- creased very greatly in numbers since the early seventies, when nearly seven thousand pounds of the striped beau- ties were landed in a single year. The largest bass on record weighed sixty- four pounds. But even should the fish desert the island entirely, there is little danger of the club mem- bers following. Most of them are well on in years, and regard Cut- tyhunk as one of the most delight- ful of places for a summers rest. One old Texan has spent twenty-two suc- cessive seasons at the club. Another member has never failed to appear in the last thirty-two years. Behind the clubhouse a really beautiful garden gloxvs xvith many-colored flowers, and long rows of healthy vegetables give evidence that the club table is not neglected. On the south a well-kept lawn reaches down to the edge of the cliff; and a fine spyglass, mounted on its tripod, invites to watch the passing ships. But the central point of interest to Cuttyhunk visitors is apt to be the life-saving station, established by the United States government in 1889. As early as 1847 the Massachusetts Humane Society had erected stations on the Elizabeth Islands, supplied with approved life-saving appliances, for the use of the brave islanders, who would not brook the sight of fellow~ mariners shipwrecked and perishing before their eyes without an attempt at rescue. Many are the crews whose lives these stout-hearted volunteers have saved at the risk of their own. In February, 1893, when the brig Aquatic was wrecked on the Sow and Pigs reef, five of the six members of the volunteer crew perished in their attempt to reach the vessel. That was a terrible day for Cuttyhunk.* But a few nights before, a four- masted schooner, the Douglass Dear- born, was wrecked on the rocks to the sotithward and her half-frozen crew rescued with great difficulty, one by one, in the breeches buoy. The life savers were worn out by their ex- ertions. Suddenly came the terrible news: A brig wrecked on Sow and Pigsthe sea will break her up be- fore morning! In haste the un- daunted islanders made their way to the west end of Cuttyhunk, where blazing torch-lights on the wreck flared out of the darkness, above the seething combers, raging in to the shore. No boat can live in such a sea, said a brave old salt. Oh! yes, she tan, answered Tim Akin, Jr., and he called for volunteers. Five men stepped out and the surf-boat was qtiickly launched. Slowly she staggered for- ward, tip and doxvn amid the waves. Captain Tim was a man who never knew fear. Come on, boys,aint this fun ! he shouted from his place at the steering oar. Just then, close by the brig, a gigantic comber over- whelmed them and the men upon the wreck saw four ghastly faces upturned to theirs as the gallant rescuers, cling- ing to their overturned boat, were borne swiftly past, helpless, into dark ness and death. One man, Josiah Til- ton, was carried by the waves toward the brigs stern. The bight of a rope was flung him and he was saved, yet he alone of the life savers could not sxvim. Contrary to all expectation, the brig held together until the following noon, when all aboard her were res- cued from the foretop where they had taken refuge. The men had wrapped the topsails about them and crouched under the lee thus made. But they were drenched by the icy seas, and *See poem cuttyhunk, by Edward Pay- son Jackson, In the New England Magazine, June, 1893. CUTTYHUNK. 5 their clothes were frozen stiff in the biting wind gusts. A little longer ex- posure would have ended their lives. A fund of $30,000 was subscribed and divided among the families of the drowned heroes, and the Canadian government made a grant of $iooo for the same good purpose,for the wrecked brig hailed from St. John, N. B. The men who perished had res- cued many a shipwrecked crew. Their rewards were sometimes $3, sometimes $5, and never more than $15 per man. Cuttyhunk is a rough mother and rears strong and fearless sons. The voice of duty is strong within them and courage is as the air they breathe. A generous emulation exists between the government station men and the other islanders to see who shall be fore- most in the noble work of saving life. At the present time there are, as an old lobsterman said, three humane build- ings on Cuttyhunk. The Captain~~ who has charge of them has invented many a useful life-saving apparatus, and has medals from Paris and Havre commending his work. He has on ex- hibition at the Board of Trade build- ing, Gloucester, Mass., a model of a life-saving car, to be built of alumi- num bronze. Its general adoption by coasting vessels would result in the saving of many lives. The captains s interest in his invention is purely philanthropic, for he has never ap- plied for a patent. At the government station seven or eight men are always on duty, ex- cept during June and July. All night long and every foggy day they patrol the cliffs and stony sand reaches along the west and south shores. Each man carries two Coston signals, whose bright red glare has warned many a ship approaching too near the danger- ous coast or given promise to wrecked mariners that help is not far distant. In the handsome station, finished in hard polished wood and kept as neat as wax, two big surf-boats are ready for emergency, mounted on their long carriages and supplied with oars, life- preservers, ropes and other neces- saries. The beach-cart is there loaded with hawser, shot-lines, Lyle gun and ammunition. There are the breeches- buoy, the life-car and all things needed to send a strong rope out to the wreck, along which rope when fas- tened to the mast the breeches-buoy or life-car makes its perilous way through dashing surf and blinding spray safe to the welcoming shore. On the last July night, just before the men go on duty, a dance is usually given at the life-saving station. The home of life-cars and surf-boats is bare, save where upon the walls lan- terns, life-belts, blocks and tackles serve half as ornaments, half as a som- bre setting for the bright, girlish faces and the muscular, sunburnt men, who look so well in their uniforms of blue and white. Through the great open doorway a group of spectators can be dimly seen, leaning against a life-car, standing, or sitting upon coils of rope, while beyond the sea drags the pebbles over the singing beach and the half moon rides through a cloud- less sky. Promptly at twelve oclock the fiddle and the banjo, those instru- ments of Cuttyhunk gaiety, cease. Two guardsmen take clocks and sig- nals and start on their four-hour watch, which is to continue every night and foggy day through cold and sleet and driving rain until the sum- mer comes again. These men receive sixty dollars a month; and one may some of the islanders speak of the life- fishermans life from the fact that some of the islanders speak of the life- savers as having a good berth and an easy time of it. THE SONS OF R. RAND. I; ~Ir//,ur JUl/is Go/ton. o M E years ago, of a summer afternoon, a perspiring organ-grind- er and a leathery ape plodded along the road that goes between thin- soiled hillsides and the lake which is known as Elbow Lake and lies to the northeast of the village of Salem. In those days it was a well-traveled high- way, as could be seen from its breadth and dustiness. At about half the length of its bordering on the lake there was a spring set in the hillside, and a little pool continually rippled by its inflow. Some settler or later owner of the thin-soiled hillsides had left a clump of trees about it, making as sightly and refreshing an Institute of Charity as could be found. Still an- other philanthropist had added half a cocoanut-shell to the foundation. The organ-grinder turned in under the trees with a smile, in which his front teeth played a large part, and suddenly drew back with a guttural exclamation; the leathery ape bumped against his legs, and both assumed at- titudes expressing respectively in an Italian and tropical manner great sur- prise and abandonment of ideas. A tall man lay stretched on his back be- side the spring, with a felt hat over his face. Pietro, the grinder, hesitated. The American, if disturbed and irasci- ble, takes by the collar and kicks with the foot: it has sometimes so hap- pened. The tall man pushed back his hat and sat up, showing a large-boned and sun-browned face, shaven except for a black mustache clipped close. He looked not irascible, though grave perhaps, at least unsmiling. He said: Its free quarters, Dago. Come in. Entrez. Have a drink. Pietro bowed and gesticulated with amiable violence. Dry! he said. Oh, hot! Just so. That a friend of yours? pointing to the ape. He aint got a withering sorrow, has he? Take a seat. Elbow Lake is shaped as its name implies. If one xvere to imagine the arm to which the elbow belonged, it would be the arm of a muscular person in the act of smiting a peaceable look- ing farmhouse a quarter of a mile to the east. Considering the bouldered front of the hill behind the house, the imaginary blow would be bad for the imaginary knuckles. It is a large house, with brown, unlikely looking hillsides around it, huckleberry knobs and ice-grooved boulders here and there. The land between it and the lake is loxv, and was swampy forty years ago, before the Rand boys began to drain it, about the time when R. Rand entered the third quarter cen- tury of his unpleasant existence. R. Rand was, I suppose, a miser, if the term does not imply too definite a type. The New England miser is sel- dom grotesque. He seems more like congealed than distorted humanity. He does not pinch a penny so hard as some of other races are said to do, but he pinches a dollar harder, and is quite as unlovely as any. R. Rands meth- ods of obtaining dollars to pinch were not altogether known, or not, at least, recorded,which accounts perhaps for the tradition that they were of doubt- ful uprightness. He held various mortgages about the county, and his farm represented little to him except a means of keeping his two sons inex- pensively employed in rooting out stones. At the respective ages of sixteen and seventeen the two sons, Bob and Tom 52 ~1!U

THE SONS OF R. RAND. I; ~Ir//,ur JUl/is Go/ton. o M E years ago, of a summer afternoon, a perspiring organ-grind- er and a leathery ape plodded along the road that goes between thin- soiled hillsides and the lake which is known as Elbow Lake and lies to the northeast of the village of Salem. In those days it was a well-traveled high- way, as could be seen from its breadth and dustiness. At about half the length of its bordering on the lake there was a spring set in the hillside, and a little pool continually rippled by its inflow. Some settler or later owner of the thin-soiled hillsides had left a clump of trees about it, making as sightly and refreshing an Institute of Charity as could be found. Still an- other philanthropist had added half a cocoanut-shell to the foundation. The organ-grinder turned in under the trees with a smile, in which his front teeth played a large part, and suddenly drew back with a guttural exclamation; the leathery ape bumped against his legs, and both assumed at- titudes expressing respectively in an Italian and tropical manner great sur- prise and abandonment of ideas. A tall man lay stretched on his back be- side the spring, with a felt hat over his face. Pietro, the grinder, hesitated. The American, if disturbed and irasci- ble, takes by the collar and kicks with the foot: it has sometimes so hap- pened. The tall man pushed back his hat and sat up, showing a large-boned and sun-browned face, shaven except for a black mustache clipped close. He looked not irascible, though grave perhaps, at least unsmiling. He said: Its free quarters, Dago. Come in. Entrez. Have a drink. Pietro bowed and gesticulated with amiable violence. Dry! he said. Oh, hot! Just so. That a friend of yours? pointing to the ape. He aint got a withering sorrow, has he? Take a seat. Elbow Lake is shaped as its name implies. If one xvere to imagine the arm to which the elbow belonged, it would be the arm of a muscular person in the act of smiting a peaceable look- ing farmhouse a quarter of a mile to the east. Considering the bouldered front of the hill behind the house, the imaginary blow would be bad for the imaginary knuckles. It is a large house, with brown, unlikely looking hillsides around it, huckleberry knobs and ice-grooved boulders here and there. The land between it and the lake is loxv, and was swampy forty years ago, before the Rand boys began to drain it, about the time when R. Rand entered the third quarter cen- tury of his unpleasant existence. R. Rand was, I suppose, a miser, if the term does not imply too definite a type. The New England miser is sel- dom grotesque. He seems more like congealed than distorted humanity. He does not pinch a penny so hard as some of other races are said to do, but he pinches a dollar harder, and is quite as unlovely as any. R. Rands meth- ods of obtaining dollars to pinch were not altogether known, or not, at least, recorded,which accounts perhaps for the tradition that they were of doubt- ful uprightness. He held various mortgages about the county, and his farm represented little to him except a means of keeping his two sons inex- pensively employed in rooting out stones. At the respective ages of sixteen and seventeen the two sons, Bob and Tom 52 ~1!U THE SONS OF R. RAND. 53 Rand, discovered the rooting out of stones to be unproductive labor, if nothing grew, or was expected to groxv, in their place, except more stones; and the nature of the counsels they took may be accurately imagined. In the autumn of 56 they began ditch- ing the swamp in the direction of the lake, and in the summer of 57 raised a crop of tobacco in the northeast cor- ner, R. Rand, the father, making no comment the while. At the proper time he sold the tobacco to Packard & Co., cigar makers, of the city of Hamilton, still making no comment, probably enjoying some mental titilla- tion. Tom Rand then flung a rock of the size of his fist through one of the front windows, and ran away, also making no comment further than that. The broken window remained broken twenty-five years, Tom returning neither to mend it nor to break an- other. Bob Rand, by some bargain with his father, continued the ditching and planting of the swamp with some profit to himself. He evidently classed at least a por- tion of his fathers manner of life among the things that are to be avoided. He acquired a family, and was in the way to bring it up in a rep- utable way. He further cultivated and bulwarked his reputation. Society, manifesting itself politically, made him sheriff; society, manifesting itself ec- clesiastically, made him deacon. Soci- ety seldom fails to smile on systematic courtship. The old man continued to go his way here and there, giving account of himself to no one, contented enough no doubt to have one reputable son who looked after his own children and paid steady rent for or bought piece by piece the land he used; and another floating between the Rockies and the Mississippi, whose doings were of no importance in the village of Salem. But I doubt, on the whole, whether he were softened in heart by the deacon s manner or the ordering of the deacon s life to reflect unfilially on his own. \Vithout claiming any great knowi edge of the proprieties, he may have thought the conduct of his younger son the more filial of the two. Such was the history of the farmhouse be- tween the years ~6 and 82. One wet April day, the sixth of the month, in the year 82, R. Rand went grimly elsewhere, where, his neigh- bors had little doubt. With true New England caution we will say that two wet April days later he went to the cemetery, the little grass-grown cem- etery of Salem, with its meagre memo- rials and absurd, pathetic epitaphs. The minister preached a funeral ser- mon, out of deference to his deacon, in which he said nothing whatever about R. Rand, deceased; and R. Rand, sheriff and deacon, reigned in his stead. Follow certain documents and one statement of fact: Document I. Codicil to the Will of R. Rand. The \Vill shall stand as above, to wit, my son, Robert Rand, sole legatee, failing the following condition: namely, I bequeath all my property as above mentioned, with the exception of this house and farm, to my son, Thomas Rand. provided, that within three months of the present date he returns and mends with his own hands the front window, third from the north, pre- viously broken by him. (Signed) R. RAND. Statenicut of fact. On the morning of the day following the funeral the condition appeared in singularly prol)lematical shape, the broken win- dow, third from the north, having been in fact promptly replaced by the hands of Deacon Road hiniscif. The new pane stared defiantly across the lake, westward. Document 2. Leadville, Cal., May 15th. Dear Bob: I hear the 01(1 man is gone, saw it in a paper. I reckon maybe I didnt treat him any squarer than he did me. Ill go halves on a bang-up good monument, anyhow. Can we settle affairs without my coming East? How are you, Bob? TOM. Document 3. Salem, May 29th. Dear Brother: The conditions of our fathers will are such, I am compelled to 54 THE SONS OF R. RAND. inform you, as to result in leaving the property wholly to me. My duty to a large and growing family gives me no choice but to accept it as it stands, and I trust and have no doubt that you will regard that re- sult with fortitude. I remain yours, ROBERT. RAND. Leadville, June 9th. A. L. Moore. Dear Sir:I have your name as a lawyer in Westford. Think likely there isnt any other. If you did not draw up the will of R. Rand, Salem, can you forward this letter to the man who did? If you did, will you tell me what in thunder it was? Yours, THOMAS RAND. Westford, June i8th. Thomas Rand. Dear Sir: I did draw your fathers will and enclose copy of the same, with its codicil, which may truly be called remark- able. I think it right to add, that the win- dow in question has been mended by your brother, with evident purpose. Your letter comes opportunely, my efforts to find you having been heretofore unsuccessful. I will add further, that I think the case actionable, to say the least. In case you should see fit to contest, your immediate return is of course necessary. Very truly yours, A. L. MOORE, Attorney-at-Law. Document 6. Despatch. New York, July 5th. To Robert Rand, Salem. Will be at Valley Station to-morrow. Meet me or not. People with one central pivot of character or guiding motive, such as can be indicated by an epithet, are comfortable acquaintances for a novel- ist. For, if A equals x and B equals y, they can be added, subtracted, taken the square root of, and introduced into equations with other quantities that are unknown. The hypocrisy of the hypocrite is to be depended on, the benevolence of the benevolent. Wild- air is a rake, and Cynicus is nothing if not cynical. But as one grows older, arithmetic and algebra seem less and less interpretive of human nature. The croquet played by Alice in that delightful Wonderland, where the balls were hedgehogs and unrolled them- selves, the wickets soldiers who walked away, the mallets flamingoes to knock with whose heads seemed a pathetic thing, must after all have been a game of very great interest. The deacon was a tall, meagre man, with a goatee. The domain of the goatee is now said to be beyond the Mississippi. It is no longer in New England. The personage who typifies the nation for the use of political illus- tration is solitary in his strapped trou- sers; and as for the goatee I speak with deference it may be beyond the Mississippi. Deacon Rand could hardly have been imagined by his neighbors without his goatee. It seemed to accentuate him, to hint by its mere straightness at sharp decision, an unwavering line of rectitude and ab- sence of that feebleness known as breadth of view; in fact, to hint at that simplicity and oneness of character just declared conducive to a novelists com- fort. The deacon drove westward in his buckboard that hot summer afternoon, the 6th of July. The yellow road was empty before him all the length of the lake, except for the butterflies bobbing around in the sunshine. The deacon s lips looked even more secretive than usual: a discouraging man to see, if cne were to come to him in a compan- ionable mood desiring comments. T. RAND. Opposite the spring he drew up, hearing the sound of a hand-organ under the trees. The tall man with the clipped mustache sat up deliberately and looked at him. The leathery ape ceased his funereal capers and also looked at him; then retreated behind the spring. Pietro gazed back and forth between the deacon and the ape, dismissed his professional smile, and followed the ape. The tall man pulled his legs under him and got up. I reckon its Bob, he said. Its free quarters, Bob. Entrez. Come in. Have a drink. The deacons embarrassment, if he had any, only showed itself in an extra stiffening of the back. The train I did not suppose I was going to meet you. Just so. I came by way of West- ford. Document 4. Document ~. THE SONS OF R. RAND. 55 The younger brother stretched him- self again beside the spring and drew his hat over his eyes. The elder stood up straig-ht and not altogether uhim- pressive in front of it. Pietro in the rear of the spring reflected at this point that he and the ape could conduct a livelier conversation if it were left to them. Pietro could not imagine a con- versation in which it was not desirable to be lively. The silence was long and, Pietro thought, not pleasant. ~Bob, said the apparent sleeper at last, ever hear of the prodigal son? The deacon frowned sharply, but said nothing. The other lifted the edge of his hat brim. Never heard of him? Oh, have! Then I wont tell about him. Too long. That elder brother, now, he had good points; no doubt of it, eh? 1 confess I dont see your object Dont? Well, I was just saying he had good points. I suppose he and the prodigal had an average good time together when they xvere boys, knockin around, stubbin their toes, fishin may be, gettin licked at incon- venient times, hookin apples most anytime. That sort of thing, eh? Just so. He had something of an argument. Now, the prodigal had no end of fun, and the elder brother stayed at home and chopped wood; understood him- self to be cultivating the old man. I take it he didnt have a very soft job of it, eh? lifting his hat brim once more. The deacon said nothing, but ob- served the hat brim. Now I think of it, maybe strenuous sobriety wasnt a thing he naturally liked any more than the prodigal did. Ive a notion there was more family likeness between em than other folks thought. What might be your idea? The deacon still stood rigidly with his hands clasped behind him. I would rather, he said, you would explain yourself without par- able. You received my letter. It re- ferred to our fathers will. I have re- ceived a telegram which I take to be threatening. The other sat up and pulled a large satchel around from behind him. Youre a man of business, Bob, he said cheerfully. I like you, Bob. Thats so. That will Ive got it in my pocket. Now, Bob, this here is go- ing tobe a nervy game,aint it, Bob? I reckon youve got some cards, else youre putting up a creditable bluff. I play this here will, codicil attached. You play,window already mended,I take it; time expired at twelve oclock tonight. Good cards, Bob,flrst-rate. I play here opening the satchel two panes of glass allowin for accidents putty, et cetera, with statement attached, that I propose to bust that window again. Good cards, Bob. How are you comm on? The deacons sallow cheeks flushed and his eyes glittered. Something came into his face which suggested sharply the secret family likeness hint- ed by his brother. He drew a paper from his inner coat pocket, bent for- ward stiffly and laid it on the grass. Sheriffs warrant, he said, for hem covering possible trespassing on my premises; good for twenty-four hours detention hem. Good, said his brother briskly. I admire you, Bob. Ill be blessed if dont. I play again. He drew a re- volver and placed it on top of the glass. Six-shooter. Good for two hours stand-off. Hem, said the deacon. Warrant will be enlarged to cover the carrying of concealed weapons. Being myself the sheriff of this town, it is hem permissible for me. He placed a re- volver on top of the warrant. 1 lob, sai(l his hfother, in huge de- light, Im proud of you. But I judge you aint on to the practical mat- ter called getting the drop. Stand back there! The deacon looked into the muzzle of the steady revolver covering him, and retreated a step, breathing hard. Tom Rand sprang to his feet, and the two faced each other, the deacon look- ing fully as dangerous a man as the \\Testerner 56 THE SONS OF R. RAND. And then, suddenly, the wheezy old hand-organ beyond the spring began, seemingly trying to play two tunes at once, with Pietro turning the crank as desperately as if the muzzle of the re- volver were pointed at him. Hi, you monk! Dance ! cried Pietro; and the leathery ape footed it solemnly. The perspiration poured down Pietros face. Over the faces of the two stern men fronting each other a smile came and broadened slowly, first over the youngers, then over the deacon s. The deacons smile died out first. He sat down on a rock, hid his face and groaned. Im an evil-minded man, he said; and Im beaten. The other cocked his head on one side and listened. Know what that tune is, Bob? I dont. How long ago was it when we followed that hand- organ to Westford and slept in the woods, eh, Bob? Thirty years, said the deacon, without looking up. Tom Rand sat down in the old place again, took ul~ the panes of glass and the copy of the will, hesitated, and put them down. I dont reckon youre beaten, Bob. You aint got to the end of your hand yet. Got any children, Bob? Yes; said you had. Five. Tell you what well do, Bob. Well call it a draw. Ill go you halves, countin in the monument. But the d~acon only muttered to himself: Im an evil-minded man. Tom Rand meditatively wrapped the two documents around the revolvers. Here, Dago, you drop em in the spring! which Pietro did, perspiring freely. Shake all that, Bob. Come along. The two walked slowly toward the yellow road. Pietro raised his voice despairingly. No cent! Not a nicka! Thats so, said Tom, pausing. Five children, by thunder! Come along, Dago. Its free quarters. En- trez. Take a seat. The breeze was blowing up over Elbow Lake, and the butterflies bobbed about in the sunshine, as they (Irove along the yellow road. Pietro sat at the back of the buckboard, the leathery ape on his knee and a smile on his face, broad, non-professional, and consisting largely of front teeth. NEXT OF KIN TO FISHER. By Azel Ames, 11. D. FROM the famous old hostelry at Dedham, eleven miles from Bos- ton, on one of the most fre- quented roads between Boston and the South and West, sxvung the sign of the Fishers, father and son, from i6~8 to 1730. In the former year, the senior, Lieut. Joshua Fisher sur- veyor, apothecary and inn-holder, as well as officer of ye trayne band, was licensed by the General Court of the colony to sell strong waters to relieve the inhabitants being remote from Boston, for one year. Duly authorized from year to year thus to relieve the inhabitants, the elder Fisher continued to achieve both fame and fortune as mine host till gath- ered to his fathers in 1709. 1 The cut of the tavern accompanying this article is a reduction by permission, from a sketch made by a Dedham artist of the tavern as it appeared in its last years, as pub- lished first in The Almanacks of Nathaniel Ames, by Sam lAriggs. It was a roomy, two-story, peaked-roofed old building, with its end to the street, the oldest part hav- ing an addition of more modern construction. The rooms were low, the windows small, the lower floor sunken a little below the ground. A large buttonwood overshadowed it. Behind was a large ham, while hack to the charles River stretched a broad field.

56 THE SONS OF R. RAND. And then, suddenly, the wheezy old hand-organ beyond the spring began, seemingly trying to play two tunes at once, with Pietro turning the crank as desperately as if the muzzle of the re- volver were pointed at him. Hi, you monk! Dance ! cried Pietro; and the leathery ape footed it solemnly. The perspiration poured down Pietros face. Over the faces of the two stern men fronting each other a smile came and broadened slowly, first over the youngers, then over the deacon s. The deacons smile died out first. He sat down on a rock, hid his face and groaned. Im an evil-minded man, he said; and Im beaten. The other cocked his head on one side and listened. Know what that tune is, Bob? I dont. How long ago was it when we followed that hand- organ to Westford and slept in the woods, eh, Bob? Thirty years, said the deacon, without looking up. Tom Rand sat down in the old place again, took ul~ the panes of glass and the copy of the will, hesitated, and put them down. I dont reckon youre beaten, Bob. You aint got to the end of your hand yet. Got any children, Bob? Yes; said you had. Five. Tell you what well do, Bob. Well call it a draw. Ill go you halves, countin in the monument. But the d~acon only muttered to himself: Im an evil-minded man. Tom Rand meditatively wrapped the two documents around the revolvers. Here, Dago, you drop em in the spring! which Pietro did, perspiring freely. Shake all that, Bob. Come along. The two walked slowly toward the yellow road. Pietro raised his voice despairingly. No cent! Not a nicka! Thats so, said Tom, pausing. Five children, by thunder! Come along, Dago. Its free quarters. En- trez. Take a seat. The breeze was blowing up over Elbow Lake, and the butterflies bobbed about in the sunshine, as they (Irove along the yellow road. Pietro sat at the back of the buckboard, the leathery ape on his knee and a smile on his face, broad, non-professional, and consisting largely of front teeth. NEXT OF KIN TO FISHER. By Azel Ames, 11. D. FROM the famous old hostelry at Dedham, eleven miles from Bos- ton, on one of the most fre- quented roads between Boston and the South and West, sxvung the sign of the Fishers, father and son, from i6~8 to 1730. In the former year, the senior, Lieut. Joshua Fisher sur- veyor, apothecary and inn-holder, as well as officer of ye trayne band, was licensed by the General Court of the colony to sell strong waters to relieve the inhabitants being remote from Boston, for one year. Duly authorized from year to year thus to relieve the inhabitants, the elder Fisher continued to achieve both fame and fortune as mine host till gath- ered to his fathers in 1709. 1 The cut of the tavern accompanying this article is a reduction by permission, from a sketch made by a Dedham artist of the tavern as it appeared in its last years, as pub- lished first in The Almanacks of Nathaniel Ames, by Sam lAriggs. It was a roomy, two-story, peaked-roofed old building, with its end to the street, the oldest part hav- ing an addition of more modern construction. The rooms were low, the windows small, the lower floor sunken a little below the ground. A large buttonwood overshadowed it. Behind was a large ham, while hack to the charles River stretched a broad field. NEXT OF KIN TO FiSHER. 57 His son, Capt. Joshua Fisher, a representative to the Great and Gen- eral Court, of higher military rank and of wider fame as a popular Boni- face of the old stage road than his father, succeeded him and, marrying about 1695 Hannah Fuller, the daughter of a good Old Colony line, reared in the old tavern a family of four daughters, a fifth dying in tender years. With a reasonable share of this worlds goods, a man just and de- vout, at peace with mankind and him- self, failing in health, and provident for those to come after, on the twenty- fifth of March, 1729, he made his last will and testament, and died March eleventh of the following year.1 His will begins in the stereotyped form of those days: In the Name of God Amen. The twenty fifth day of March Anno Domini 1729 I Joshua Fisher of Ded- ham & within his Majestys Terri- tories and Dominions of New Eng- landInn holder, being sick and weak of Body but of sound and per- fect memory do make and publish, etc.; and, reaching through the over- much verbiage of such instruments the real business in hand, it provides that Touching such worldly estate the Lord hath lent me my Will is That it be disposed of as in and by this Will is Exprest. Imps: It. I will That all Just Debts That I owe shall be well and Truly paid. Item. I Give and bequeath nnto my VvTell beloved wife the Improvement of my whole estate both Real and personal dur- ing her widowhood and I Give her my Best Bed and ifurniture with my best Sil- ver Tankard to be at her Dispose. Item. I Give to my Daughter Hannah a Piece of Land at a place called Rock- field and a Bond I had of her husband for money. I Give her Eighty pounds to be paid in Curent money or Good Bills of Credit on this Province to be paid after my wifes decease That is Ten pounds a year yearly untill she has received the whole. Item. I Give to my Daughter Judith 1 Dedham Town Recs. (pub.) p. ~. my Land I had of Thomas Herring and also Lands I purchased of Richard Ever- ard and a Woodlot that was my ifathers near to serjeant Jabez Ponds. Item. I Give to my Daughter Mary my home Lands orchards and Buildings and a Woodlot which I purchased of Asiel Smith and a Woodlot which I purchased of Jeremiah Hull. Item. I Give to my Daughter Re- becca the Lands I purchased of Mr. James Barnard and the Land I purchased of Capt. William Avery and a Lott I Pur- chased of Jonathan Avery. Item. I Give to the Church of Christ in Dedham twenty pounds in Bills of credit on this Province ifurther I Give to my Three youngest Daughters my move- able Estate to he Equally Distributed amongst them after my wifes decease. My Will is that my Daughter Mary shall pay to my Daughter Hannah the sum or sums before mentioned. ifinally I do Constitute and appoint my two Daughters Judith and Mary to be Executors to this my Last Will and Testament. The will was duly witnessed by. three of his friends, and xvas probated at Boston, April 7, 1730. A very ordinary sort of will and one whose surface indications, as the mining folk say, by no means suggest the part it was to play in the overthrow of tenets and practices of law which, born at Rome, fastened themselves firmly through the canons of the Church, upon the ecclesiastical and common law of England and, cen- turies old, crossed the sea, being for a time engrafted upon the early juris- prudence of all her colonies. At the time our testator made his will, Hannah, only, the eldest daugh- ter, had taken to herself a husband, one Benjamin Gay of Dedham, whose entire acceptability to his father-in- law may be questioned, as he had al- ~na~fr ready made inroads upon the old gentlemans confidence and cash (his wife receiving her husbands bond as a part of her legacy), neither him- self or wife being entrusted with any share in the settlement of the estate. There seems to have been no dim- Suffolk wills, ~ 58 NEXT OF KIN TO FISHER. inution of the activities or the abound- ing good cheer of the old tavern, under the management of the comely widow and her blooming daughters, during the years which immediately followed the Captains demise; and for more than the full three quarters of a century Fishers Tavern, known from Maine to Georgia and as widely esteemed as known, offered its entertainment for man and beast. On the fourteenth of September, 1735, Dr. Nathaniel Ames, a young physi- cian and astronomer, twenty-seven years of age, who after acquiring con- siderable practice in medicine and reputation as a star-gazer in the ad- jacent town of Bridgewater, moved to Dedham in 1733, married the younger executrix, Mary, and came to live at the tavern, of which he soon took charge in behalf of his mother-in-law, and later in his own behalf. Dr. Nathaniel Ames was the eldest son of Capt. Nathaniel Ames of Bridgexvater, who was a man of re- markable abilities and attainments, especially for a backwoods settler of the 17th century in New England. Born in the edge of the primeval for- est, cradled among the horrors of Philips War, his youth spent in the rigors, privations and labors of the first inland settlement of the Pilgrim Colony, the elder Nathaniel was yet a mathematician and astronomer of un- common skill, a fine writer, a military officer, an iron master and, by the courtesy of old deeds, a gentleman. His father, John Ames, of the Bridge- water plantations, was the only son of William Ames of Braintree, in the Bay Colony, the immigrant ancestor of the family in America, who was son of John Ames, whose home was in the beautiful Somersetshire town of Bruton on the Briewe, in the west of England. Inheriting from his sire, a man whom the son proclaims as one who knew the Heavens as if he had dxvelt there, his keen love of astronomical study, and a mind of extraordinary grasp, in- cisiveness and tenacity, the younger Nathaniel, with his fathers assistance, issued in 1726, at the age of but seven- teen years, the first of that remark- able series of annuals familiar to anti- quarians as Amess Almanacks, which for fifty years had place beside the Bible and The Pilgrims Prog- ress at most New England firesides. He is described by a contemporary as a man of acuteness and wit, of great activity, and of a cheerful and amiable temper. Living in an age when, as some one has happily put it, one could know something of pretty much everything, Dr. Ames was an admir- able exponent of the truism; he was equally an fait in mathematics, medi- cine, politics, or verse,as the practi- tioner, the astronomer, the lampooner or the popular host of the Ames Tavern, on the great Post road. The temptation is strong to give some of the abundant gleanings concerning him as a unique character of Province days; but we are to consider him here only in his relation to the old caravan- sary and the legal revolution of which he and it were prime factors. A not- able man and a famous hostelry had come together, each lending the other new dignity and importance, both des- tined to cut no small figure in the hap- penings of their times and to leave no light impress upon the affairs and the abiding conditions of the Province 1 Dr. Amess elegy upon his father, from which the above line is taken, is of interest. THE AUTHOR ON HtS FATHERS DEATH. Hes Dead! His great Seraphick Genius now is fled, The melancholy uews has reached your Ears Doubtless before this little Tract appears. But since his Labours first maturd its Birth, It is but justice here to mourn his Death. I, in his Arms from Evening Dews preseryd, Ihe wandering Glories overhead obsevd: Scarce pipd the shell, ere his too fond Desires My Talent in this public way requires. when puzzled, I could unto him repair, XVho knew the Heavns as if he had dwelt there; Itoboldend thus, I ventured on the Stage And run the risque of carping Criticks Rage. Btit now hes gone! Urania, 0 make Me, me thy son! For my Beloveds sake. Bear the Deceasd upon thy Wings, 0 Fame, Among th Astronomers give him a Name: For if Pythagoras believd had been, Men might have thought great Newtons soul in him. But hold: if him Ive praised in what Ive done it may be called immodest in a son: But Gratitude Extorts from me his due Aisd Envy owns that what Ive writ is true. (Amess Almaiiack for 173 NEXT OF KIN TO FISHER. 59 and of the vigorous young republic which sprang from its loins. Beneath this roof Doctor Ames elaborated his renowned Ephe- merides and emitted those rare coruscations of wit and wisdom which in their time challenged the admira- tion of such men as Benjamin Frank- lin2 and Roger Sherman,~ philos- ophers, statesmen and, later, al- manack makers, and in this day have elicited the strong encomiums of a Moses Coit Tyler4 on the one hand, and that racy connoisseur of good things, Sam Briggs, upon the other.5 Here too were born of the Doctors second marriage, his two wholly un- like but equally gifted sons, Dr. Nathaniel Ames the younger,6 his collaborator in medicine and astron- omy, a man one hardly knows whether to think most brilliant or erratic, and Hon. Fisher Ames, the statesman and orator. At this time (i7~~) Dr. Ames seems, either on behalf of his mother- in-laxv, the widow Fisher, who held by her husbands will, a life-estate in the property, or by some agreement with her by which he was to control it in his own interest, to have acquired such authority in the premises as to I This celebrated tavern, in addition to its other honors, has been styled with reason, the birthplace of the Ameri- can Revolution. (Rev. Dr. Havens Address 200th Anniversary of the Town of Dedham, p. 45). Here was organized, Sept. 6, 1774, the famous Suffolk convention at which was chosen the large committee, with Dr. Joseph Warren as its spokesman, which drafted the resolutions, the first ever recorded in favor of trying the issue with Great Britain, if need be, by the sword. These resolutions were made the basis of the deliberations of the first continental congress, and together with the doings of the convention ~re entered upon its records. 2 Dr. Nathaniel Ames, the younger, in his Diary mentions the visit of the great philosopher (who began to publish Poor Richards Almanac~cs in i~u) to consult his father on matters of their mutual interest. 3 Roger Sherman, the distinguished signer of the Dec- Ia ration of Independence, who published his first almanack in 2750, says in its introduction; I need say nothing by way of explanation of the following pages, they being placed in the same order that has been for many years practised by the ingenius and celebrated Dr. A ~nes with wit icli you are well acquainted. Tylers History of American Literature. 5 The Essays, Humor and Poems of Nathaniel Ames, Father and Son. From the Almanacks, 17261775 with Notes and Comments, by Sam Briggs, Cleveland, Ohio, 2892. Dr. Nathaniel Ames, the younger, the associate and successor of his fathe,r in the ptiblication of the Ames Almanacks, was a man of equal abilities, with greater ver- satility and eccentricity than his parent. have contracted with one John Fisher of Needham for its extensive altera- tion and improvement. On the 24th day of October, 1737, there was born to Dr. Nathaniel Ames and Mary his wife, at the old tavern, a son, whom they named for his mothers people, Fisher. He was their first and only child. November II, 1737, a little less than a month after his birth, his mother died; and September 17 of the following year, when a little less than a year old, the infant died also. That Dr. Ames continued to reside at the tavern for some time after the death of his wife and child there is no doubt; but he probably ceased to do so on his marriage, Oct. 30, 1740, with Miss Deborah Fisher, a relative of his first wife, daughter of Maj. Jeremiah and Deborah (Rich- ards) Fisher of Dedham. Just where he made his residence for the few years immediately succeeding his marriage is not clear; but the tavern seems to have been under his name and in the joint care and occupancy of himself and his mother-in-law, the widow Fisher. The latter however was in declining health, and died, Dec. 22, 1744, never having remar- ried, her estate in the old tavern, so long her home, ceasing with her life. Upon Mrs. Fishers demise, Dr. Ames filed a caveat with the Probate Court at Boston claiming by the courtesy, in the estate passing on her death, by Captain Fishers will, to his wife Mary, and upon her decease to her son Fisher, desiring also to be heard as to its administration. The opportunity had come for Benjamin Gay, the husband of Han- nah, the eldest daughter of Capt. Joshua Fisher (concerning whom we have already had some intimations from his father-in-laws will), to en- 1 In the Ode published in his Alinanack for 2739, Dr. Ames thus refers to his double loss: My Muse with Grief has dimd her virgin Sight And s loth to sing of Phwbus or his Light, To ye sting my spouse and only sons Decease Her song had been perhaps a finished Piece, l3ecastse the Thots that roll within her Mind Arc unto Death & Tragedies inclined. 6o NEXT OF KIN TO FISHER. deavor to secure something more of the old captains estate, perhaps to make reprisal for past piques as well. Gay promptly objected to the Doc- tors appointment as administrator of his sons estate, denying that he had any rights therein. Thereupon, Dr. Ames, having become satisfied of his larger rights under the Province law, memorialized the Probate Court not only for appointment as adminis- trator, but also for the settlement of his sons estate upon himself as next of kin. Gay and his wife Hannah, John Simpson, the husband of Judith (Capt. Fishers third daughter), and his wife and Samuel Richards, hus- band of Rebecca Fisher, the fourth daughter (deceased), and as guardian of her three children, then joined their forces to contest the case, having as counsel Benj. Pratt, later Chief Justice of New York, basing their contention wholly upon the ancient common law. Dr. Ames, who stood upon the pro- visions of the Province law of 1692, as superseding the common law, secured at the instance of the court (Judge Willard) the opinion of Judge Robert Auchmuty, an eminent counsel of that day, expert in probate law and practice, which xvas favorable at all points to his claims. The Court finally granted letters of administration to Dr. Ames and made a decree settling the estate of his son upon him. From this de- cree Gay and his associates appealed to the Governor and Counsel, but so far as appears without securing satis- faction. Apparently gaining courage to again try the issue, Gay acting alone, the others perhaps tiring of the con- test, seems to have taken posession, by virtue of his wifes interest, of at least a part of the premises Mrs. Fisher had held under life-tenure, the reversion and remainder of xvhich were, by Captain Fishers will, to vest on the mothers death or marriage in her daughter Mary, the wife of Doctor Ames and the mother of his child. That Mr. Gay had much warrant for his expectation in thus seizing upon the Fisher demesne by virtue of his wifes relationship to Fisher Ames (the deceased child-heir of her sister Mary) cannot be denied. To this time none had ever questioned the validity of the ancient canon law (as engrafted upon the English common law) in the determination of the degrees of kin- ship and the descent of real estate in the British Colonies. Indeed up to the date of the enactment of the law regulating these matters, passed by the General Court of the Province of Massachusetts Bay in I6cj~2, the pro- mulgations of the Vatican in these regards had retained their force alike in the laws of England and of her de- pendencies. XVith a man of Dr. Amess com- bative and energetic makeup such a proceeding could only result in a legal contest. He was, however, a man too ardent for success, too ana- lytical in his mental habit, too thor- ough in his study of whatever en- gaged his attention, to adopt any line of action until it had undergone his critical scrutiny and fully met the requirements. Once satisfied as to its soundness, nothing could shake his confidence; and his conviction that ultimately his conclusions must be accepted, made him but the more de- termined under successive defeats. He seems always to have sought in the litigation in which he engaged, to ascertain the fundamental principle or provision of law on which his case rested and, clear as to that, to have based all his contention upon it. His successes, only obtained in several cases after repeated adverse decisions, are attril)utahle to this fact and to his uncompromising tenacity. At the October term of the Inferior Court of Common Pleas held at Boston in 1746, before Edward Hutchinson Anthony Stoddard, Eliakim Hutchin- son and Edward Winslow, Esquires, Justices of said Court, Doctor Ames brought suit for the recovery of the property, as appears by the Court records, as follows: Nathaniel Ames of Dedham in the NEXT OF KIN TO FISHER. County of Suffolk, Physician, Pitif., and Benjamin Gay of Dedham aforsaid, yeo- man, Deft. in a plea of ejectment wherein he demands against the said Benjamin a messuage and about an acre of land with the appurtenances thereof in Dedham aforesaid, Bounded Southerly by the Countrey road, Westerly by Mr. Samuel Dexters land, Northerly and easterly by the said Nathaniel Ames land and how- ever otherwise bounded, and saith that on the twenty fifth of March Anno Domini in Seventeen Hundred and Twenty nine one Joshua Fisher was seized of the tenements aforesaid with the appurtenances in his demesn.e as of fee and leing so seized thereof, by his last will in writing of that date devised the same to Hannah his wife to hold and improve during her widow- hood, and by the same will further de- vised the same tenements with the appur- tenances to his daughter Mary to hold to her and her heirs from and immediately after the death or marriage of the said Hannah which ever should first happen & afterwards viz on the Seventh of March Anno Domini 1730 the sd Joshua died so seized thereof after whose death the sd Hannah entred into the tenements aforesd. and by force of the devise aforesaid be- came seized of the same with the appur- tenances in her demesne as of freehold for the term of her life determinable upon her marriage and the sd Mary was thereupon seized as of fee & right of & in the re- mainder of the same tenements with the appurtenances expectant upon the death or marriage of the sd Hannah and the sd Mary being so seized of the Remainder aforesaid afterwards took to her husband the sd Nathaniel Ames by force whereof the sd Nathaniel and Mary were seized of the aforesd remainder of the sd Tenements with the appurces as of fee & right in right of the sd Mary and afterwards viz, on the twenty-fourth of October A. D. 1737 had issue between them lawfully begotten viz: a son named Fisher Ames and afterwards viz on the eleventh of November Anno Domini 1737 the sd Nathaniel & Mary be- ing so seized of the sd Remainder of the said Tenements with the appurces in form aforesd in her right she the sd Mary at Dedham aforesaid died so seized after whose death the remainder in fee of the tenements aforesaid with the appurces ex- pectant as aforesaid descended to the said Fisher Ames as only child & heir of the sd. Mary whereby he the sd. Fisher Ames was seized of the Remainder of the same tene- ments with the appurces as of fee & right expectant upon the death or marriage of the said Hannah and afterward viz on the seventeenth of September Anno Domini 1738 the sd Fisher Ames at Dedham afore- said died thereof so seized & Intestate leaving neither wife nor child after whose death the remainder in fee of and in the sd tenements with the appurces expectant upon the death or marriage of the sd Hannah by force of the Province Law made in the fourth year of the Reign of King William and Queen Mary for the settlement & distribution of the Estates of Jntestate~ came and fell to the said Na- thaniel the Father of the sd Fisher Ames as next akin to him the sd Fisher Ames the Intestate whereby the said Nathaniel became seized of the remainder of the same tenements with the appurces as of fee & right expectant upon the death or marriage of the sd. Hannah and afterwards viz on the twenty first day of December Anno Domini I7~ the sd Hannah con- tinuing in her widowhood and being seized of the sd tenements & appurtenances in her Demesne as of free hold for the term of her life determinable as aforesaid and the sd Nathaniel also being seized of the remainder thereof as of fee and Right ex- pectant as aforesaid she the sd Hannah at Dedham aforesd died of such her estate so seized whereupon the tene- ments aforesd with the appurces by force of the Province Law aforesd came & belonged to the sd Nathaniel to hold to him and his heirs and he ought to hold the same & be in possession thereof ac- cordingly yet the sd Benjamin Gay hath illegally entered into the sd tenements & appurces and unjustly holds him out of the same to the damage of the said Na- thaniel Ames as he saith the sum of a thousand pounds: The said Benj. by Jer. Gridley, Esq., his attorney came and De- fended & c. and Saving his plea in abate- ment which was overruled by the Court Said he was not Guilty as the saith Nath. above complains against him & thereof put himself on the Country. Upon which is- sue being joined the case after a full hear- ing was Committed to the Jury who were sworn according to Law to try the same and returned their Verdict therein upon Oath that is to say they find for the Deft. Costs of Court. Its therefore considered by the Court that the said Benj. Gay shall recover against the said Nathaniel Ames Costs of Suit. The Plant, appealed from this Judgment to the next Superior Court of Judicature to be holden for this County & c entred into Recognisance with Suretys as the Law directs for Prosecuting his Ap- peal to effect. From the foregoing it will readily be seen that the contention of Dr. Ames xvas, that by the will of Captain Fisher, the property at issue was de- vised to the use and improvement of his widow Hannah during her life- time-time or widowhood, with re- mainder to th~eir daughter Mary; that on the death of Captain Fisher, Mary 62 NEXT OF KIN TO FISHER. (Mrs. Ames), became seized of such remainder as of fee and right expect- ant, and that upon her death, her son, the infant Fisher, became heir to and seized of this remainder, as of fee and right expectant, xvhich upon his death Dr. Ames claimed to inherit, as his sons next of kin,under author- ity of the Province law which he cites. Such inheritance would clearly have been impossible under the Eng- lish law (as derived from and based upon the ecclesiastical), by which real property ne~er ascended to a father or mother, but in the absence of hus- band, wife or lineal descendant passed to the next of kin, as determined by the tenets of the canon (which was the earliest) law. The inequities often resultant will readily suggest themselves, e. g., cousins almost unknown, inheriting landed posses- sions to the exclusion of the father or mother, etc. It is plain therefore that Dr. Amess title to the old tavern property and his sole hope of a successful issue in his suit for possession of it, rested upon the validity and interpretation of the Province law, substituting for the pro- visions of the canon and common law so long dominant, the so-called civilian method of determining the (legrees of kinship and regulating the distribution of estates of persons dy- ing intestate.1 The Charter granted in 1692 by William and Mary2 to the Province of the Massachusetts Bay in New England, comprising the aforetime colonies of Plymouth and Massachu- setts with other territory adjacent on the north and east, provided: (i) for a General Court with law-making power to be holden annually on the last Wednesday of May and at such other times as the Governor should Judge Story in commenting upon the operation of the Province Law of 1692 (Cook vs. Hammond, 4th Mason, p. 496), says: Upon the whole my opinion is, that the common law role as to the descent of reversions and remainders has heen altered hy nor stattites; reversions and remainders of which the intestate is the owner at the time of his death are to he distrihuted to his heirs in the same manner as estates in possession. charters and Gen. Laws, I8I4~ Barrys History of Massachusetts, Vol. t, p. 514. see fit; (2) that the Governor shonld have the right of veto upon all laws enacted by the General Court; and (~) that all laws receiving the Gov- ernor s sanction should be trans- mitted to the King for his approval and if rejected at any time within three years should be of no effect. It thus appears that the law of the Province cited by Doctor Ames in his pleadings, as made the fourth year of the Reign of King William & Queen Mary for the settlement & distribution of the Estates of lutes- tates, under which law he claimed to inherit from his son, could have be- come such only by virtue of and in compliance with the Charter provi- sions here stated. That this law, in- cluded in the Province Laws of 1692,1 was legally enacted in that year, received the Governors sanc- tion,2 and was duly upon the statute- books of the Province with the royal approval,3 in 1749, when Dr. Amess suit was brought, does not appear to have been questioned. The text of this enactment pertinent to the case in hand is as follows: Be it therefore enacted and ordained by the Governour, Council and Represen- tatives, convened in General Court or As- sembly, and it is ordained by the authority of the same,That every person lawfully seized of any lands, tenements, or heredita- ments within this province, in his own proper right in fee simple, shall have power to give and dispose, and devise, as well by his last will and testament in writ- ing, (as) (or) otherwise by any act exe- cuted in his life, all such lands, tenements and heretitaments to and among his chil- dren or others, as he shall think fit at his pleasure; and if no such disposition, gift, or devise be made by the owner of any such lands, tenements, or heretitaments, the same shall be subject to a division, with his personal estate, and be alike dis- 5 Province Laws, vol. t, ~ ~ 44 and 45. Sir William Phipps was the governor of the Province at this time, a hroad-minded man, friendly to New Eng- land, of which he was a native. Any law passed hy the General court, and having the endorsement of the Mathers, his warm friends, was sure to receive his signature. 2 Barry (History of , vol. 2, p. 47) says: Of the acts approved hy the king, some were of great importance. These provided for the settlement and distrihution of the estates of insestates, etc. placing this first in his enumeration, as if regarded, as well it might he, as the revolutionary and important statute we have con- sidered it. NEXT OF KIN TO FISHER. tributed, according to the rules hereinafter exprest for intestate estates. No repre- sentatives to he admitted among collaterals after brothers and sisters children; and if there be no wife all shall be distributed among the children; and if no child, to the next of kin to the intestate in equal degree, and their legal representatives as afore- said.1 Although we know the name of counsel for the defendant, Mr. Gay, who was none other than the excel- lent Jeremiah Gridley, Esq., an able and esteemed lawyer at the Suffolk bar before the Revolution, we are not able to ascertain with certainty, whether Dr. Ames conducted and argued his own case, as he was amply competent to do and possibly did, or had other counsel.2 He was cer- tainly confident that he saw more clearly than the Court had done, the rightful interpretation and relevancy of the law upon xvhich he relied and, as we have seen, promptly entered his appeal from the adverse verdict of the lower Court. At the August Term of the Su- perior Court of Judicature, Court of I Italics the writers. The operation of the Canon and English common law, and of the Province law, respec- tively, in fixing the degrees of kinship and determining therehy the descent of real estate of persons dying intes- tate, is illustrated in the case in hand hy the following diagram. I. t Mary Fisher II. Joshua and Hannah m. Dr. Nathaniel Ames Fisher 2 Fisher Ames III. Hannah Fisher m. Benjamin Gay The Roman numerals indicate the degrees of kindred hy the canon law and the Arabic the degrees hy the civilian or Province law. The mode of computing these degrees in the canon law (adopted also by English law in the descent of real estate) is to reckon from the common ancestor down- ward, and in whatever degree two persons, or the most remote of them, are distant from the common ancestor, in that degree they are related to each other. But the civil- ians compute by first counting upward from either of the persons related to the common stock, and then downward to the other, counting a degree for each person ascending or descending. (Phillmore). It thus appears that in this case, by the canon law, Fisher Ames stood in the sceond degree of kinship to his aunt, Mrs. Gay (as most remote from the common ancestor), and by the Province law in the third; but under the former the property would not in any event ascend to the father. The essential features in the case therefore were the ascent of an inheritance from son to father, as unprecedented, and the distribution of intestates estates to next of kin, contrary to certain maxims of the common law. - At the end of his letter to Melatiah Martin, published in the Almanacks of Nathaniel Ames, etc., p. 171, he calls himself a lawyer, and his lines On the Judgment of Court (Op. cit., p. 2t5), would indicate that he argued his own case. There is, however, an intimation in the final entry of the case on the court records that the parties had been heard by their touncil,that another attorney might have argued the case for Dr. Ames. Original papers in possession of the Dedham Historical Society clesrly prove that he fully prepared both the case and the argument. Azzize and General Gaol Delivery, held at Boston, Anno Domini ~ the case of Nathaniel Ames, of Ded- ham, of the County of Suffolk physi- cian, Appellant, and Benjamin Gay of Dedham aforesaid yeoman, Appellee, came up for trial, before Paul Dudley, Chief Justice, and Richard Salton- stall, Stephen Sewall, Nathaniel Hub- bard, and Benjamin Lynde, Esquires, Justices; and on hearing of a jury the appellant was non-suited and the judgment of the lower Court affirmed with costs. Upon the heels of this, his second, seemingly discouraging defeat, the latter at the hands of the highest Court of the Province (save the Gen- eral Court), Dr. Ames appears to have begun a new suit, the exact character of which cannot, from the poverty of the record, be determined. What-. ever its nature, he seems either to have purposely abandoned it (while his opponent, no doubt doubly con- fident from his previous successes, appeared and obtained a default), or later, to have succeeded (which is probable) in having the default re- moved and a new trial granted), upon a plea of review. The brief record of the default is all the light we have upon this interjected phase of the 2 case. Reflecting doubtless, that time and mature consideration were requisite to enable judicial minds of English legal training, long wonted to the operations of well established laws and precedent, to grasp and accept new orders of things so revo- lutionary as those proposed, and tak- ing ample time to reconnoitre his ground and arm anew, Dr. Ames did not until the summer of the next year, 1748, push his plea for a review of the case. At the August term of the Superior Records Stip. court of Judicature, Prov. Mass. Bay vol. t743t747, folios 276, 277. 2 Nathaniel Ames plans. vs. Benjamin Gay, Deft. the plant. not appearing is nonsuit the Deft, appeared & is allowed costs taxed at thirty-seven shillings bills of credit on this province emitted in the year t74t or other bills of that tenor. Feb. t9, 1747. Exon. issued. Records Sup. court of Judicature, Prov. Mass. Bay, vol. 174750, folio ti. 63 64 NEXT OF KIN TO FISHER. Court of Judicature, etc., of the Prov- ince of Massachusetts Bay (as appears by the records of the Court a year later, the usual record having been withheld for the final decision of the bench upon the questions referred to it), a suit upon a plea of review was begun and came to jury trial before the full bench,1Paul Dudley, Esq., Chief Justice, and Richard Salton- stall, Stephen Sewall, Benjamin Lynde and John Cushing, Associate Judges. Upon the jury empanelled for the term, as the list shows, were some of the best known and esteemed men of that day in the Province. The result was a special verdict, as given in the little old minute-book of the Court (answering to a docket), as shown in the accompanying repro- duction of the attested original. By the full and final entry of the dis- position of the case made upon the Court records,2 it appears that the jury in its special verdict, prop- erly left the Court to construe the Province law of i6cy~, and hinged its findings upon that construction. The Court thus narrowed to the single question of the interpretation of a statute, as related to an agreed condi- tion of things, found, as the text indi- cates, that Dr. Ames, the plaintiff, was entitled to inherit under the law; the former judgment of the Court was reversed, and possession of the old hostelry, now doubly famous, was ordered given him. The record runs as follows: Nathaniel Ames, of Dedham, in the County of Norfolk, Physician, plant. against Benjamin Gay, of Dedham aforesd, Yeoman Deft. in a plea of review of a plea of ejectment commenced & pros- ecuted by the plaintif against the Defend- ant at an Inferior Court of common pleas held at Boston aforesd for the said county of Suffolk on the 1st Tuesday of October A. D. 1746 in the words following viz. in 1 See article on Paul Dudley, with portrait, in the Janu- ary, 1896, numher of the New England Magazine. 2 Records Sup. court of Judicature, Prov. Mass. Bay, vol. 174750, folio 268. Judge Story says (Cook 7/$ Hammond Op. cit., p. 492): I have tinderstood that this was the first case (A mes vs. Gay) in which the point was decided that the father could inherit from the son, under the provincial act of 2692. a plea of ejectment wherein he demanded agst. the said Benjamin a messuage and about half an acre of Land with the ap- purtenances thereof in Dedham aforesaid, etc., etc., as hereinbefore recited. and at the Superior Court of Judicature held at Boston aforesd for the said County of Suffolk on the third Tuesday of February A. D. 2746 the aforesd. Benj. Gay recov- ered Judgment in said Action against the sd Nathl. Ames for costs of Courts wch were taxed at thirty five shillings & six pence; which Judgment the said Nathl. Ames saith is wrong & erroneous and that he is thereby damnified the Sum of a thou- sand and five pounds wherefore for re- versing the said Judgment and for recover- ing Judgment against the sd Benjamin Gay for restitution of the costs aforesd and for possession of the premises demanded in the original Writ and cost of Courts, he said Nathl. Ames brings this sutt as also for his costs occasioned thereby. This Suit was commenced at August Term last, when both parties appeared and the case after a full hearing was committed to the Jury who were sworn according to Law to try the same & returned their Ver- dict therein upon Oath, that is to say they find specially viz that the said Fisher Ames was seized of the Remainder of the Tene- ments aforesd expectant upon the death or marriage of the said Hannah Fisher as set forth in the Writ and afterward died so seized thereof & intestate leaving neither wife nor child and afterward the said Hannah the Tenant for Life died seized of the sd. Tenements as set forth in the Writ, that the said Nathl. Ames was Father of the sd. Fisher Ames and the Defendants Wife was his Aunt, and if upon the whole matter the plaintiff by force of the Prov- ince law is intituled to the premises, the Jury find for the plaintiff reversion of the former judgment, possession of the premises demanded and costs of Courts, but if not they find for the Defendants costs, and from thence the action was con- tinued from Term to Term to this Time for the Courts advisement on the said spe- cial Verdict, and now after mature advise- ment thereon and a full hearing of the Parties by their Council. It is considered by the Court that the former Judgment be and hereby is reversed and that the said Nathaniel Ames recover against the said Benjamin Gay the possession of the prem- ises sued for and costs of Courts taxed at sixteen pounds fifteen Shillings & seven pence in bills of credit on this Province of the new tenor. fac. hab. possess., issued Nov. 24th, 8749. The triumph of Dr. Ames was com- plete. His legal position, doubtless much scoffed at, had been signally vindicated by the highest judicial FAG SIMILE OF TITLE PAGE OF NATHANIEL AMES, JR.S, ALMANAC, 1726. For this and the illustrations on the two following pages we are indehted to the kindness of Mr. Samuel Briggs of Cleveland, Ohio. 65 NEXT OF KIN TO FISHER. tribunal of the Province, and that in reversal of its own decree. His dis- cernment, courage and endurance had won against heavy odds. He was again in sole possession of his wifes property, and it was now Amess Tavern de facto et de jure. Always himself clear as to his rights and of a highly nervous temperament, he was naturally indignant at the in- justice and loss to which he had been subjected, sharply intolerant of the laws delays, and especially of the fail- tire of the Chief Justice and one of the Associates (Lynde) to unite with the rest of the bench in recognition of the Province law. Although victorious at every point, his disgust at what he considered the stupidity (or worse) of these dissenting judges was intense, and found expression, at considerable cost, in the famous sign he had painted and hung in front of the tav- ern, in caricature of the Court. The following is the account given coii- cerning it in Worthingtons History of Dedham. The Supreme Court (two judges dis- senting) decided that it (the property) did ascend. Dr.Ames, although the success- ful party, expressed his dislike at the con- duct of the dissenting judges (one of which was Paul Dudley, the Chief Justice), by causing the whole Court to be painted on the large sign board of his tavern, sitting in great state in their large wigs, each judge being clearly recognized. An open book was before them, underneath which was written, Province laws. The dis- senting judges were represented with their backs turned towards the book. The Court hearing of the sign, sent the sheriff to bring it before them. Dr. Ames heard the order given, being then in Boston, and by good luck and hard riding, had just time enough to pull down the sign before the sherriff arrived at Dedharn. The old road-house now became more famous and popular than ever, and its host, in his multiform duties, increasingly acceptable; while his draughts of success and approbation like old wine, enriched and quickened the sparkling flow of learning, wit and poesy which gave fame to his 1 Apropos of worthingtons account, 5am Briggs in his Almanacks of Nathaniel Ames, p. 24, remarks that it is further related in connection with this incident, that the Doctor had sufficient margin in his race with the sheriff not only to take down the offensive hush, hut to suhstitute in its place a hoard with the legend, A wicked and adulter- ous generation seeketh after a sign, hut there shall no sign he given it. An article in the N. E. Hist. Gen. Reg., vol. 14, p. 255, hy w. B. Towne, is also sponsor for the ahove story. By the courtesy of Mr. Briggs, a fac simile of the original sketch made for the sign, recently found among Dr. Amess papers (first puhlished hy Mr. Briggs in his work already referred to), is given herewith. Mr. Briggs states, that the characters represented upon the sign, heginning on the left of the illustrations, were as fol- lows: Benjamin Lynde. Richard Saltonstall, Paul Dudley, Stephen Sewall, John cushing. 66 THE OLD FISHER TAVERN. NEXT OF KIN TO FISHER. Almanacks.1 He seems to have held his profession as a physician and his vocation as landlord by no means incompatible, and his view seems to have been accepted by his medical brethren and the public. While the ethics of the former forbade his ex- ploiting his skill as a practitioner, no bar except modestyby which he was not embarrassed,prevented his laudation in print, of his astronomical labors or the merits of his tavern. In fact these went hand in hand, and the following is an advertisement of his house in his Al- manack of 1751: Advertisement. These are to sig- nify to all Persons that travel the great Post- Road South West from Boston, That I keep a house of Public Entertain- ment Eleven Miles from Boston, at the sign of the Sun. If they want Re- ffreshment, and see Cause to be my Guests, they shall be well entertained ;at a reasonable Rate. N. Ames. For fifteen years irom the day on which the genial doctor, 1 The Doctors jubilation over his legal victory auck his appeal to the muses took shape in his Almanack for 1750, in the following lines, entitled, On the Judgment of court obtained after a long La -s it. De s, nobis ~kaec Otia,fecit. Four times the Sun has in cold Pisces been, The rising Fleiads have four Autumns seen, Since I have stood th opposing Lawyers Tongue Who puzzled Right, and Justifyd the wrong, An honest cause by dint of Law, maintaind, And Virgil like the Mantuan Lands, have gaind: When Strife belchd forth her foul discordant Sound, The voice of Orpheus charming Lyre was drownd, The muses from their usual Haunts retird, And left their barren votary uninspird: Ye Goddesses of verse, Apollos Quire, The Prodigal returnd: once more inspire, Ye sweet infusers of diviner Strains With rich Ideas croud his minting Brains, cease Strife; all but the Nightingale be mute, Whilst I contend with her upon the Lute. as next of kin to his first born, came into his own, the tide of human affairs of the Province swept through and about the old tavern. Sovereigns on the English throne and governors in the Province-House at Boston came and went; children were born to him and entered into his labors; the brilliant wit, the keen satire, the quick sympa- thies, the trenchant wisdom of the many-sided master flowed on at full stream ;then suddenly stopped like a great fountain suddenly shut off, forever. To the confident claim of the elegy of his scarcely less bril- liant son, His ravished soul now roves among the stars, the admiring reader will gladly join an ear- nest hope. On the death of Dr. Ames, in 1764, the tavern became the prQperty of his widow Deborah, who had the bad taste and worse fortune to marry, eight years later, one Riclijakd Woodward, who succeeded,as there are only too many evidences, in mak- ing life miserable for her, himself and everyone else, until their separation. During the Revolution the tavern was a busy place, reviving the excitement and bustle which possessed it in the days of the French and King Philips wars a hundred years before. At its fireside sat Washington, Lafayette, the Adamses, Hancock and most of the notables civil and military, of the great struggle in support of that broader declaration of Indepen- dence, with which in 1776, the people of the Province of Massachu [HE TAVERN SIGN. 68 NEXT OF KIN TO FISHER. setts Bay and of her sister Provinces supplemented their declaration of 1692, of freedom from canonical and unjust rule. But houses, like men, decay; and the venerable inn, full of years and experiences, having survived both the Revolution and the illustrious states- man and orator born beneath its roof, having seen the young Republic,in whose ushering in it had borne so im- portant a part,firmly upon its feet, in i8i7 laid its frame in the dust and be- came a rich and delightful memory. The spot where it stood was thrice dignified by associations of national significance and moment: first, as the bone of contention in the legal battle between the systems of feudalism and of freemen, whose story it has been the purpose of these pages to sketch; again, as the mustering place of those who first declared for liberty against the oppression of the mother country by appeal to the sword; and, finally, as the birth-place of the great advo- cate of the constitutional bond which made safe the victories won. It would be difficult to overstate the significance and effect of the radical change accomplished by the enactment of the legislature of the Province in 1692 and its interpreta- tion by the judiciary in ~ The records of the session at which the law was enacted throw a little light upon the mind of the Assembly; and it is not too much to assume that the growing restiveness of the people of New England under the trammels of ancient laws, ill adapted to a new country, and the exactions of later measures of the Grown, favored the passage of this early declaration of independence. Eminently practical in their views of everything, the col- onists had no reverence which led~ them to prefer the antiquities and precedents of law to the dictates of equity and common sense. The pre- amble of the act which effected the departure of the Province from the old to the new order of things is itself indicative of the spirit and purpose~ which obtained. Whereas estates in these planta- tions do consist chiefly of lands which have been subdued and brought to improvement by the industry and labor of the proprietors, with the as- sistance of their children, the younger children generally having been long- est and most serviceable unto their parents in that behalf, who have not personal estates to give out unto them in portions or otherwise to recoin- pence their labour, be it therefore, etc. The governing purpose was equity. They could see none in the primo NEXT OF KIN TO FISHER. 69 geniture, entail and nnfilial provisions of the ancient law and nsage, handed down from anthority and times re- mote and nnsympathetic. That they bnilded better than they knew is prob- able; that their majesties William and Mary realized the fnll force and scope of the enactment and its revoln- tionary character, when the royal as- sent was given, is scarcely credible. The chief relic of the early papal impress npon the institntions and laws of England, controlling the rela- tions of persons and their property, was thns stricken from the statntes of the leading Province of New England, in favor of more eqnitable and en- lightened measnres. A precedent and example were thns established, which were soon followed by others of the Provinces and led on to those kindred acts by which erelong, they became ln(lependent commonwealths nnited at last in the Great Repnb- lic. An infinential apostle of the new de- partnre and a spot whereon he might rest the Archimedean lever of his logic were fonnd, the latter in the old tavern demesne at Dedham, the former in onr pnissant friend, who was next of kin to Fisher. FAc-sIMILE or THE VERDICT. GREEK-LETTER SOCIETIES IN AMERICAN COLLEGES. By Eugene H. L. Randoif Ii. HE propensity for organization is Ta natnral bent of the mind. In all fnnctions of modern life it manifests itself unceasingly. Clubs, so- cieties and associations are the means whereby we seek onr ends in the scien- tific, literary and social worlds. Fel- lowship in feelings, interests and aims draws together kindred spirits. The commnnity of ideas and pnrposes is crystallized and by organized effort the individual forces produce the greater result. The proneness to form clubs for every conceivable reason finds no more striking exemplification than among the students in onr American colleges. Athletic clubs and literary clnbs and clubs for an endless line of less important pnrposes flourish like the rank vegetation of the tropics on the fertile soil of stndent activity. The energies are ofttimes misdirected. But the club feature of student life fur- nishes a training which the academic course cannot supply, and of which the importance and value are realized by college officials. The very process of ~veeding out is a valuable discipline. Clubs which have no aim or no good aim cannot long survive the rigid tests of worth and purpose. There is one manifestation of this trait in the character of the American student which stands out prominently as a distinctive feature of life in our higher institutions of learning. The Greek-letter frater- nity is a product of these natural forces at once original and unique. The inception of the idea is so remote and the early records are so vague that the beginnings are lost in the mists of legend. No feature of student activity, no phase of student life, has brought out, at different times more different views. At the outset and for many years during their early life the Greek-letter societies were the objects of intense bitterness of feeling and determined opposition. Almost without exception they met with withering glances or open hostility. The early development was one con- tinual struggle for existence. The system, as it stands to-day, owes its life and being to the energies of men who felt that they had a purpose and were determined to accomplish it. The American nation and the first American college fraternity were born in the same year. Phi Beta Kappa was organized at the College of Wil- liam and Mary in 1776. The pro- motion of literature and of friendly in- tercourse among scholars was its pro- fessed aim. The origin is shrouded in mystery. Three stories of its birth come down to us by tradition. One 70 BETA THETA PHI, MIAMI.

GREEK-LETTER SOCIETIES IN AMERICAN COLLEGES. By Eugene H. L. Randoif Ii. HE propensity for organization is Ta natnral bent of the mind. In all fnnctions of modern life it manifests itself unceasingly. Clubs, so- cieties and associations are the means whereby we seek onr ends in the scien- tific, literary and social worlds. Fel- lowship in feelings, interests and aims draws together kindred spirits. The commnnity of ideas and pnrposes is crystallized and by organized effort the individual forces produce the greater result. The proneness to form clubs for every conceivable reason finds no more striking exemplification than among the students in onr American colleges. Athletic clubs and literary clnbs and clubs for an endless line of less important pnrposes flourish like the rank vegetation of the tropics on the fertile soil of stndent activity. The energies are ofttimes misdirected. But the club feature of student life fur- nishes a training which the academic course cannot supply, and of which the importance and value are realized by college officials. The very process of ~veeding out is a valuable discipline. Clubs which have no aim or no good aim cannot long survive the rigid tests of worth and purpose. There is one manifestation of this trait in the character of the American student which stands out prominently as a distinctive feature of life in our higher institutions of learning. The Greek-letter frater- nity is a product of these natural forces at once original and unique. The inception of the idea is so remote and the early records are so vague that the beginnings are lost in the mists of legend. No feature of student activity, no phase of student life, has brought out, at different times more different views. At the outset and for many years during their early life the Greek-letter societies were the objects of intense bitterness of feeling and determined opposition. Almost without exception they met with withering glances or open hostility. The early development was one con- tinual struggle for existence. The system, as it stands to-day, owes its life and being to the energies of men who felt that they had a purpose and were determined to accomplish it. The American nation and the first American college fraternity were born in the same year. Phi Beta Kappa was organized at the College of Wil- liam and Mary in 1776. The pro- motion of literature and of friendly in- tercourse among scholars was its pro- fessed aim. The origin is shrouded in mystery. Three stories of its birth come down to us by tradition. One 70 BETA THETA PHI, MIAMI. GREEK-LETTER SOCIETIES. ;71 ascribes to Thomas Jefferson the founding of the order; another claims that the novel society was an offshoot from a Freemason s lodge; still a third states that it was brought from Europe. The details of the foundation may never be correctly known, but the story of its brief existence is preserved in the library of the State Historical Society of Virginia. The first meeting was held in the Apollo room of the old Raleigh tavern at Williamsburg, a spot made famous by the immortal speech of Patrick Henry. The adop- tion of a Greek name appears to have been purely acci- dental. The vicis- situdes of the Rev- olution brought disaster to the in- fant organization. In January, 1781, Arnold proceeded up the James River and burned Rich- mond. Governor Jefferson called out the militia, and the heat of the con- flict became so in- tense about Wil- liamsburg that all other matters yield- ed to the defense of the country, and the meetings of the young soci- ety came to an abrupt sus- pension. Prior to this time, how- ever, branches had been established at Yale and Harvard. The proceedings of this society became more and more formal and per- functory, and by 1825 had lost all mark of interest and vitality. In 1831 its motto, a Greek phrase signifying Philosophy, the Guide of Life, was made public. The organization, as it ex- ists to-day, is purely honor- ary. Elections are at the end of the college course and are conferred, without excep- tion, on the honor men of the grad- uating class. The badge, a rectan- gular watch-key of gold, bearing on the face the Greek initials 4 B K, and other less conspicuous insignia, as a mark of scholastic distinction. The beginning of the Greek-letter system, as we know it to-day, is marked by the organization of Kappa Alpha at Union College in 1825. Phi Beta Kappa is an anomaly in the Greek-letter world. Its plan was not on the lines which were destined to be- come popular and successful in the PSI UPSILON, UNION. cni Psi, HAMILTON. 72 GREEK-LETTER SOCIETIES. commonly accepted sense. Kappa Alpha awoke a responsive chord in the stndent natnre which had never been tonched bef ore. The general idea was the same, bnt the spirit was radically different. There existed at Union College, prior to 1826, a stndent military or- ganization under the captaincy of Edward Bayard of the class of 1825. I3ayard was a popular leader who united all factions. Indeed there were none during the period of his com- mand. The second officer in rank, it was unanimously conceded, should succeed Bayard at the latters gradua- tion. But the succeeding fall term was not far advanced when it became manifest that rival aspirations threat- ened the harmony if not the very life of the organization. At the sugges- tion of Dr. Nott, the president, and in the interest of peace, the company was divided. The reaction of feeling soon killed all interest in the military enter- prise, and the time was ripe for some new undertaking. IFive members of the class of 1826 conceived the idea of a new society for social and literary purposes, which should he secret in nature. All of them were members of one or the other of the literary societies then ex- isting at the college, and all save one were members of the Phi Beta Kappa. Their enterprise was successful from the start, and the history of Kappa Alpha has not suf- fered interruption. Its policy of expan- sion has been of the ultra-conserva- tive type. While the oldest of all the active college fra- ternities, its devel- opment has been within the limits of closely-guarded lines. Not far from the railway station at Schenectady, and in one of the most beautiful locations to be found in the charming valley of the Mohawk, stands, on the south side of the road, a little, old, yellow brick building, once the home of Union College, but long since given over to other uses. This is the old Old Union, which one can look down upon from the command- ing heights and statelier edifices of the new Old Union. It was here that the American college fraternity system had its re-birth, and from this spot has spread abroad the spirit of brother- DELTA PSI, TRINITY. SIGMA Pill, CUI{NLLL. GREEK-LETTER SOCIETIES. 73 hood which has brought under the warm light of its kindly and elevating influences thousands and tens of thou- sands of the best of American citizens; men of education and refinement, men of eminence in all departments of lifes work, men who have found the pledges of their youth cordially endorsed by the riper judgment of maturer years. Though Kappa Alpha met with much opposition from the college au- thorities, it was manifestly popular with the students. Within two years, two similar societies, Delta Phi and Sigma Phi had been founded at Union. These three societies con- tained the germs of the vast system existing to-day, and it is curious to note that their badges and sys- tems of naming chapters are, with few exceptions, the methods now in use. The Kappa Alpha badge was a watch-key, and its chapters were named after the colleges in which they were located. The Sigma Phi badge was a mono- gram, and its chapters were named by the Greek letters in alphabetical order by states. The Delti Phi badge was a cross, and its chapters were des- ignated by the Greek letters in simple alphabetical order. New York State was a fertile field in the early days, and eight years elapsed before the border line was crossed and the second chapter of Kappa Alpha instituted at Williams College in 1833. In the same year, the fourth order, Psi Upsilon, sprang into being at Union. One year earlier, Alpha Delta Phi had been or- ganized at Hamilton College. The idea had proven its popularity, and the Greek-letter chapters multiplied rap- idly. New organizations were formed and the older ones spread to other in- stitutions. It was in the forties that Alpha Delta Phi and Psi Upsilon entered Yale College. Their advent soon brought about the formation of Delta Kappa Epsilon. This society grew rapidly in influence and in nu- merical strength and soon became the rival of its older competitors. At the outset the progress had been confined solely to Eastern territory. Originating in New York, there were but three directions in which develop- ment might be expected. On the East were the old-established and conserv- ative colleges of New England. To the West were the young and strug- gling denominational schools. In the South the conditions of the West were repeated, though the development was, perhaps, farther advanced. It was natural, then, that the first step over the boundary of the Empire State should be to the East to Massachu- setts. In New England alone, in that day, were situated educational centres of the highest class. But the West was moving steadily and surely on, advancing the interests of higher cni PSI, cORNELL. GREEK-LETTER SOCIETIES. united with Delta Tan Delta, which originated at Bethany College, West Virginia, in i86o. The Rainbow fra- ternity was founded at the University of Mississippi in 1848. Not until eight years later did the second Southern fraternity, Sigma Alpha Epsilon, come into being at the Uni- versity of Alabama. The Civil War put a stop to college enterprise in all quarters, and the growth of the frater- nity system received a serious check. In tile South, with few exceptions, the collegiate institutions were closed, and in the North and West their work was seriously interrupted. A unique mci- learning. In the South, Thomas Jef- ferson had set a high standard by the foundation of the University of Vir- ginia, while in Pennsylvania, North Carolina and Georgia the State Uni- versities dated far back into the eigh- teenth century. But fraternity devel- opment toward the West was well advanced when the first step south- ward was taken. Thirty-two miles northwest of Cin- cinnati and twelve miles west of Ham- ilton lies the village of Oxford, Ohio. Here, in 1815, in the wilderness of the then far West, Miami University began its great work. It was form- ally organized with full collegiate power and privi- lege in 1824. In fraternity develop- ment Miami was destined to become to the West what Union had been to the East. It was here that Alpha Delta Phi planted her second chap- ter in 1833, but one year after the foun- dation at Hamil- ton. Six years later, Beta Theta Phi, the first Western frater- nity, came into be- ing at Miami. The same institution gave birth in 1848 to Phi Delta Theta, and in 1855 to Sigma Chi. The latter was a split from the Miami chapter of Delta Kappa Epsilon. These three the Miami Triad so-calledand Phi Gamma Delta, which issued from Jef- ferson College in 1848, were to be to the West what the four Union fra- ternities had been to the East. Kappa Alpha had passed her ma- jority when Southern extension and development began. The first dis- tinctively Southern fraternity de- parted from the ordinary method of nomenclature and chose the name Rainbow. This society has since SIGMA PHI, WILLIAMS. dent in fraternity annals was the ex- istence during the war of a chapter of Sigma Chi in a brigade of the Confed- erate army. It was called the Con- stantine chapter, and was instituted for the purpose of keeping the organ- ization active in the South during the most heated period of the conflict. This branch was, however, never of- ficially recognized by the fraternity and, having served its purpose, was disbanded in i86~. At the close of the strife the condition of affairs in the Southern colleges was so uncertain that Northern and West- ern orders were slow to re-establish their suspended Southern chapters or 74 GREEK-LETTER SOCIETIES. ~75 to locate new ones in that terri- tory. As a consequence new fra- ternities, distinctively Southern, sprang up in the resuscitated in- stitutions. Naturally the first of these to give evidence of reawak- ening student activity would be institutions of a military char- acter. Within a few hours drive of the Natural Bridge of Virginia, and snugly nestled among the foot- hills of the Shenandoah Valley, is the historic town of Lexington, the seat of the Virginia Military Institute and of Washington and Lee University. The former was particularly odious to the North- ern troops, and the walls of the buildings still bear the marks of the devouring flames kindled by Sheridans soldiers. The interiors have been reconstructed within the original walls, but no paint brush has ever been permitted to obliter- ate the traces of the memorable conflagration. It was here that Alpha Tan Omega, Kappa Sigma Kappa and Sigma Nu were founded in 1865, 1867 and 1869 respectively. At the neighboring university, in 1865, a new society was founded, which took the name of Kappa Alpha, although there was no connection whatever with DELTA PSI, WILLIAMS. the Northern order bearing the same name. By way of distinction this so- ciety is usually called Kappa Alpha Southern Order. This is not the only case where dif- ferent societies orginating in different parts of the country and at different times have hit upon a common name. The origin of the Chi Phi fraternity at Princeton in 1854 was the result of causes of an unusual nature. A student in the then sophomore class, while looking over some old papers, came upon a time-stained doc- ument, which ex- amination showed to be the consti- tution of some society of the same general character as the various Greek- letter orders. The motto of the society as set forth in the relic revealed the ini- tial letters X 1. The document bore the date A CORNER IN THE PHI CHI HOUSE, WILLIAMS. GREEK-LETTER SOCIETIES. 1824 and several names were ap- pended. This dis- covery was corn- municated to two other members of the same class and was the basis of the organization of Chi Phi. The motto was changed, bnt so constrncted as to retain the origi- nal initial letters. Save the one document, of which the early history is not known, no rec- ord exists prior to the organization at Princeton in 1854. This date is the commonly accepted one for the or- ganization of Chi Phi. Some claim has been made to the date 1824, but the evidence in snpport of it is assuredly far from convincing. In 1858 another Chi Phi was founded at the University of North Carolina, and in j86o still a third at Hobart College in New York. In 1867 the Princeton and Hobart fraternities ZETA PSI, YALE. were united and thereafter generally known as the Northern Order of Chi Phi. After negotiations extending over a number of years, the Northern and Southern Orders were nnited un- der the name of the Chi Phi Frater- nity. It has frequently been hinted that the Northern and Southern orders of Kappa Alpha would unite, but so far as known no steps whatever have as yet been taken by either fraternity looking toward this end. The chances of sncu a nnion seem very small. The only reason, it shonld be snggested, is on acconnt of the accidental identity of name and the precedent established by the three fraternities of Chi Phi. The year 1870 is important in frater- ilty annals for two reasons: it marks the close of the formative period and the re-awakening of activity. The fra- ternities formed prior to 1870 have, in almost every case, taken a stand and built np a repntation which is an as- surance of stability and snccess. A nnmber of societies have been founded since i87o, bnt almost withont excep- tion (leaving out of consideration here the Ladies Greek-letter Societies) they have not proven successful. We are not likely to see the organization of any more of this class of societies. The field is already thoroughly covered and ALPHA DELTA PHI, YALE. GREEK-LETTER SOCIETIES. 77 the pioneers are firmly intrenched. Their positions are snch that it is al- most impossible, if not entirely so, for yonnger competitors to enter the race with any chance of snccess. The re-awakening from the lethargy conseqnent npon the period of depres- sion following the war also dates from 1870. In that year the Northern and Western orders began to revive their Sonthern chapters which had heen sns- pended hy reason of the closing of the institntions or the dispersion of their memhers. At the same time that the organization of new fraternities ceased, the institntion of new chapters hegan to he actively pnshed. Since 1870 the development of the system has been along the lines of vigorons and healthy growth, for the steps have tended to- ward the strengthening of the exist- ing orders. The infant societies which have arisen and strnggled and fallen have only served to emphasize the sta- bility of the positions occnpied by the older fraternities. Within the last twenty years the lines of territorial demarcation have been almost entirely ohliterated. DELTA UPSILON, ROCHESTER. There are to-day no college fraternities which can he correctly denominated Northern, Sonthern, Eastern or West- ern. With the general establishment of state nniversities and the fonndation of colleges of the first rank in all sections of the conntry snch as Tniane, Van- derbilt, Stanford and Chicago the fraternity system has enjoyed a devel- opment more broadly national in its character. Indeed, in several in- stances, the term National has been claimed as correctly indicating the fra- ternitys policy in extension. Ent it cannot be correctly applied to any one society. If the term means that exten- sion is to be governed solely by the desirability of the institntion withont regard to location, it might perhaps be rightfnlly applied to all. The fraternities which originated in the Sonth and West are rapidly gaining a firm position in the oldest and strongest colleges of the Middle and New England states; and the old- est and most conservative orders have, within recent years, planted chapters in the rising institntions of the West and Sonth. A spirit of rigid conserva- tism is developing in all qnarters, and where new chapters are now organized it is almost invariably a step from a lower to a higher grade of institntions. The nniqne featnre in fraternity his- tory is the organization of Ladies Greek-letter Societies. This form of stndent organization had become so popnlar and so snrely fixed in the higher institntions attended by yonng men that when yonng women began to share more fnlly in the advantages of a liberal edncation, when co-edncatio.n showed signs of becoming a practical thing, and women were first admitted to a few of onr colleges and nniversi- ties on eqnal terms with men, it was natnral that snch a snccessfnl form of association shonld be copied. The first of these societies originated PSI UPSILON, ROCHESTER. ,78 GREEK-LETTER SOCIETIES. at De Pauw University in 1870; and in the same year the second was founded at Monmouth College, Illinois. The former was known as Kappa Alpha Theta, and the latter as Kappa Kappa Gamma. The University of Mississippi produced Delta Gamma in 1872, and from Syracuse University came Alpha Phi in 1874. A few have been insti- tuted since that date, and all have proven very successful. In intent and purpose these societies are practically identical with those existing among male students. They bind the members together by a genial bond and interest each in the efforts and successes of all. They provide what is lacking on the social side of college life. They strive to soften down the rough edges and aid in the development of a more perfect character by the close commun- ion which has its foundation in sincere respect rather than in ardent affection. There is no rea- son why frater- nities, or Sor- orities, as they are called, should not occupy as large a part in the life of our women of educa- tion as they do among men. The chief char- acteristic of stu- dent Greek - letter societies is that they are secret. Their secrecy has been the main ar- gument urged against them and the main obstacle they have had to overcome. As a matter of fact, the secrecy is nominal. The members wear conspicuous badges of which they not only seem to be but are proud. Their identity is published abroad on every possible occasion. It is the combined fraternities which almost invariably publish the college Annual, in which their names conspicuously appear. Most of the fraternities have published elaborate catalogues containing the names of all their members since the date of organization. There is no se- crecy then as to who their members are or have been. The purposes of the societies are known to all. They are or- ganizedforthe promotion of social and literary intercourse among congenial persons. Their social character or DELTA KAPPA EPSILON, AMHERST. ALPHA DELTA PHI, AMHERsT, GREEK-LETTER SOCIETIES. 79 literary character varies in large meas- ure with the nature of other elements entering into the general college life at the place of their location. At colleges where the regular literary societies amply supply the demand for literary activity among the student body, the social character of the Greek-letter or- ders is asserted with the more potency. This is chiefly the case in the East. In the West, where as a rule the regular literary societies are not so perfect in their organization or so thor- ough in their work, the secret societies in large measure sup- plement the work in this field. So there is no secrecy as to why the fraternities exist. In what, then, does the much vaunted secrecy consist? It consists in the withholding of a Greek motto the initials of whose words constitute the name of the order. This is well illustrated in the case of Phi Beta Kappa, whose motto has been given to the world. We may be assured that none of the Greek mottoes have a less worthy significance than Philosophy, the Guide of Life. The secrecy further consists in the fact that the meetings of the organizations are held behind closed doors. Is not this the case in many instances where no claim to secrecy is made? And what more is it than the assertion of the rightful prerogative of meeting to- gether with ones friends and refusing to invite any whose presence is not de- sired? This is the basis of all society. In other lands and at other times so- cieties have existed avowedly for the purpose of antagonizing the law and the lawful ruler. They have existed for other and equally vicious ends. They have been called secret societies, and the name has been correctly applied. Their membership, their actions, their purposes and their very existence have been profoundly secret. The very ad- jective secret, when applied to any organization, is calculated to arouse suspicion. It is unfortunately chosen in the case of the college societies. It would be well if some more suitable term could be applied. Doubtless this very word secret was the cause of the antagonism these orders first met with from college authorities in all quarters and still meet with in a few. But it may be that the opposition thus aroused was a stimulus to activity which has produced greater results than would otherwise have been pos- sible. Since the period of active organiza- tion ceased, the main energies have been devoted to the strengthening of the existing societies and the enlarge- ment of their usefulness. The first step in this direction was by means of va- rious publications. Within the last twenty years the field of fraternity journalism has been created and de- veloped. A large number of fraternity magazines are now issued at stated in- tervals, some monthly, some bi-mouth- ly and some quarterly. They form a means of communication between the various chapters and between the un- dergraduate and alumnus not possible before. At the beginning these maga- zines were of a secret nature, and their circulation was not permitted beyond the limits of their own order. But this form of exclusiveness was not long continued, and now a system of ex- changes between the editors of the va- rious journals forms the groundwork DELTA KAPPA EPSILON, WESLEYAN, 8o GREEK-LETTER SOCIETIES. of a more friendly intercourse. Bio- graphical catalogues of membership and song books have been published in many instances. A number of the former are models of typographical and editorial art and monuments to painstaking labor. At present the one interest which overtops all others is the chapter- house. It is the fruit of the whole growth, and its value can scarcely be estimated. The first form of building designed for Greek-letter society uses was simply a lodge or meeting house, seldom consisting of more than two or three rooms and affording only the ac-~ commodations necessary for meeting purposes and occasional modest social functions. In the South this is the present stage in the development of the chapter-house idea. The first fra- ternity house erected in the South was at Sewanee, the seat of the University of the South, in the mountains of East Tennessee. Numerous lodges have since been built at the same place and at other places in the South, but as yet that section has not produced the complete chapter-house. It is prob- able that the South will soon fall into line with the North on this question. Steps have already been taken at Sewanee for the erection of more com- modious buildings. At a number of the Northern col- leges the chapter-house is a well- rooted and valued institution. In many places it has reached what seems to be its highest point of development. It is a complete, well-appointed and commodious clubhouse. The value of the property frequently exceeds $20,000. The house is often owned by a stock company, consisting chiefly of older members of the fraternity, and the active chapter has the use of it at a moderate or nominal rent. The lower floor usually has ample reception, reading and dining-rooms; sometimes also a billiard room. On the floors above are the private rooms of the in- dividual members and the chapter meeting rooms, together with the quarters of the attendants. The plan of management is generally one of codperation. The care of the house and the provision of the table are in the hands of a competent house- keeper who is hired for the purpose. The total cost of keeping the estab- lishment, for rent, wages and sup- plies, is equally borne by the various members. It generally proves to be more moderate per capita than the ordinary cost of student living with far fewer comforts and conven- iences. The financial advantages of the scheme are far from being the chief ones. The chapter-house provides for the student something which is of the utmost value and generally sadly lacking in our American colleges a home influence during four of the most impressionable years of a mans life. The average dormitory is a cold and heartless thing. It is surrounded in song and story with a charm that is truly poetic, but in reality it is comfort- less and uninviting in the extreme. The chapter-house is a home, and the pride it inspires is the surest guarantee of its honorable maintenance. Its manage- ment induces the formation of business methods and the necessity for its sup- port is rather an incentive to habits of economy than otherwise. It is a re- treat from the world in the company of the most select associates. And it fills, nearer than any other thing has ever done, the void created by the ALPHA DELTA PHI, WESLEvAN. GREEK-LETTER SOCIETIES. temporary loss of a home. In it the young student becomes the host, and the social education is broadened. In many places it is the custom for a number of formal entertainments to be given, to which the president and pro- fessors of the college and the best of the towns people accept invitations. Instructor and student meet together as man and man. Intercourse of this nature cannot fail to exert a broaden- ing and elevating influence. The chapter-home is the strongest tie that binds the alumnus to his chapter. The college itself shares, in a ma- terial way, in the advan- tages of the chapterhouse. ( It relieves the pressure on dormitory room and ofttimes obviates the ne- cessity of additional ac- commodations of this character. The only dan- ger to be feared is that undue rivalry may lead to the erection of excessively costly structures. This is an evil the probability of which is remote. At Am- herst, Williams, Wesleyan, Cornell, Lehigh, Roches- ter and Ann Arbor chap- ter-houses have been erect- ~ ed which are magnificent V-a. _ in design, complete in ap- pointments and valuable additions to the architect- ural beauty of the university or college. Honorary membership was con- ferred very generally when the frater- nities were young and seeking recog- nition. The custom has been almost entirely discontinued of late, and the present policy is to confine admission to membership strictly to students at- tending college. Membership, once acquired, continues through life. Clubs composed of graduated fra- ternity members have been formed in many of the large cities. In New York particularly they have taken rank among the leading social clubs of the city. They occupy handsome houses in the choicest locations, and their membership includes many leading citizens. Summer clubs or camps have been established by several fraterni- ties, the more prominent being Camp Manhattan of Alpha Delta Phi at Lake George and Wooglin-on-Chau- tauqua, the summer headquarters of Beta Theta Phi. The Southern fra- ternity of Sigma Alpha Epsilon has recently established a national resort on the top of Lookout Mountain. This feature, however, does not promise to be permanent, as some of these sum- mer quarters have recently been dis- continued for lack of patronage. The attitude of college authorities has grown steadily more favorable to the fraternities. Originally the opposi- tition was universal; but as the pur- poses of these societies became better known, and as a correct knowledge of them was diffused through the com- munity, the barriers have been thrown down. Few colleges are now unfavor- able to the organizations of Greek-let- ter chapters among the students. They are generally conceded to be an aid to good college government. Princeton alQne, of the leading uni- versities, still closes her doors to the Greek-letter badge. Within the last fifteen years antagonistic laws have DELTA TAU DELTA, STANFORD. 82 TRAVEL IN EARLY NEW ENGLAND. been repealed or allowed to drop into disuse at such institutions as Harvard and Vanderbilt universities, and the state universities of Alabama, Califor- nia, Georgia, Iowa, Missouri and North Carolina. At new institutions the fraternities have been cordially welcomed, at the very outset, in the cases of Clark University, Leland Stanford, Jr., University, and the Uni- versity of Texas. No more ardent sup- porters of the system can be found than ex-President White of Cornell and President Andrews of Brown. It seems strange that President Harper should have attempted to exclude them from the new University of Chi- cago. Rules were passed by the faculty of that institution which were manifest- ly a compromise between conflicting views, and the fraternities have been admitted under certain restrictions. The Greek-letter society system seems likely to be a permanent feature of American student life. The test of years has proven that the idea was well conceived. Its early guardians fostered the young growth with an honesty and a zealous enthusiasm born of inspiration. Opposition has been borne down by the rising tide of popular esteem. Fifty and seventy- five years ago there xvere colleges where every effort was made to ex- clude the fraternities. To-day those same institutions are governed by a president and faculty largely composed of Greek-letter men. And a cordial codperation is the source of mutual advantage. In the highest positions of public trust Greek-letter mcii have worthily worn the honors conferred by church and state. No position is so high that they have not attained it. They have honorably filled the Gover- nors chair in many states. They have sat, almost without number, in the halls of Congress. They have adorned the Supreme Bench of the United States. They have been ably repre- sented at the White I-louse by Presi- dents Garfield, Arthur and Harrison. TRAVEL IN EARLY NEW ENGLAND. By Amelia Leavilt IL/i. MADAM SARAH KNIGHT in her most interesting journal describes a journey on horse- back from Boston to New York in 1704. It furnishes us one of the few circumstantial accounts of traveling at a period in the history of New Eng- land when roads were simply openings made through the forest by the wood- cutters axe, and when streams were crossed by fording or by canoe. The so-called roads, we are told, often be- came blocked by fallen trees, the rider being compelled to make his way around them as best he could. With all these obstacles to surmount, a woman who accomplished a journey of two hundred and fifty-five miles, with only such guides as she could procure from day to day, naturally was regarded as little short of a heroine. Added to her courage, Madam Knight possessed a quick insight into the character of the people she met, a keen sense of humor and a gift of de- scription, which make her journal a vivid picture of the times. To show how unusual was her undertaking, even at that day, when she reached a tavern after dark the first night of her journey, on entering the door, a young woman of the fam- ily exclaimed: Law for mee! What in the world brings you here at this time a night? I never see a woman on the rode so dreadfull late in all the

82 TRAVEL IN EARLY NEW ENGLAND. been repealed or allowed to drop into disuse at such institutions as Harvard and Vanderbilt universities, and the state universities of Alabama, Califor- nia, Georgia, Iowa, Missouri and North Carolina. At new institutions the fraternities have been cordially welcomed, at the very outset, in the cases of Clark University, Leland Stanford, Jr., University, and the Uni- versity of Texas. No more ardent sup- porters of the system can be found than ex-President White of Cornell and President Andrews of Brown. It seems strange that President Harper should have attempted to exclude them from the new University of Chi- cago. Rules were passed by the faculty of that institution which were manifest- ly a compromise between conflicting views, and the fraternities have been admitted under certain restrictions. The Greek-letter society system seems likely to be a permanent feature of American student life. The test of years has proven that the idea was well conceived. Its early guardians fostered the young growth with an honesty and a zealous enthusiasm born of inspiration. Opposition has been borne down by the rising tide of popular esteem. Fifty and seventy- five years ago there xvere colleges where every effort was made to ex- clude the fraternities. To-day those same institutions are governed by a president and faculty largely composed of Greek-letter men. And a cordial codperation is the source of mutual advantage. In the highest positions of public trust Greek-letter mcii have worthily worn the honors conferred by church and state. No position is so high that they have not attained it. They have honorably filled the Gover- nors chair in many states. They have sat, almost without number, in the halls of Congress. They have adorned the Supreme Bench of the United States. They have been ably repre- sented at the White I-louse by Presi- dents Garfield, Arthur and Harrison. TRAVEL IN EARLY NEW ENGLAND. By Amelia Leavilt IL/i. MADAM SARAH KNIGHT in her most interesting journal describes a journey on horse- back from Boston to New York in 1704. It furnishes us one of the few circumstantial accounts of traveling at a period in the history of New Eng- land when roads were simply openings made through the forest by the wood- cutters axe, and when streams were crossed by fording or by canoe. The so-called roads, we are told, often be- came blocked by fallen trees, the rider being compelled to make his way around them as best he could. With all these obstacles to surmount, a woman who accomplished a journey of two hundred and fifty-five miles, with only such guides as she could procure from day to day, naturally was regarded as little short of a heroine. Added to her courage, Madam Knight possessed a quick insight into the character of the people she met, a keen sense of humor and a gift of de- scription, which make her journal a vivid picture of the times. To show how unusual was her undertaking, even at that day, when she reached a tavern after dark the first night of her journey, on entering the door, a young woman of the fam- ily exclaimed: Law for mee! What in the world brings you here at this time a night? I never see a woman on the rode so dreadfull late in all the TRAVEL IN EARLY NEW ENGLAND. S3 days of my varsall life. Who are you? Where are you going? Im scard out of my wits. As an example of her hair-breadth escapes she writes: We came to a river which they generally ride thro; but I dare not venture; so the post got a ladd and cannoo to carry me to tother side, and he rid thro and led my hors. The cannoo was very small and shallow, so that when we were in she seemed ready to take in water, which greatly terrified mee and caused mee to be very circumspect, sitting with my hands fast on each side, my eyes stedy, not daring so much as to lodg my tongue a hairs breadth more on one side of my mouth than tother, nor so much as think on Lotts wife, for a wry thought would have oversett our wherey. After her return, for more than half a century a window in her house was shown, on one of the panes of which was written with a diamond these lines: Through many toils and many fights I have returned, poor Sarah Knights. Over great rocks and many stones God has preserved from fractured bones. The route taken by Madam Knight passed through Providence, Stoning- ton, New London, and skirted the shore of Long Island Sound. It was not until many years later that the road through Springfield was made, and when first made it was abandoned, to be used again later on. But Madam Knight does not fur- nish us the only instance of a courage- ous woman traveler. A story is told of a maiden at Beverly who was be- trothed to a man in Springfield. The story goes that the proposal was made and accepted by letter. The lover then took two friends, an Indian guide, and an old horse, and armed with muskets started for Beverly. On their arrival the marriage was celebrated. The bridegroom and his friends then loaded the horse with the brides pos- sessions, shouldered their muskets and escorted the bride, who walked with them, from Beverly to Springfield,a distance of one hundred and twenty miles. Tradition tells us that as there were no roads, and the way lay through sxvamps and forests and across rivers without bridges, the trip must have occupied considerable time and have been attended with serious difficulties and dangers.~~ Then there was the baker of Ports- mouth, who used to walk sixty-six miles in one day to buy his flour, and after shipping it by a coaster, would return on foot the following day. This, we are told, was his custom until eighty years of age. The first records of roads in New England speak of them as trodden paths. They were laid out by the cattle in their frequent journeying to and from the pasture, and when a route for a road was to be chosen none better could be found than the one the animals had selected. With the in- crease in population and as the area of the towns expanded the roads grew from the Indian trail and bridle-path to rude roads for ox teams and carts, and these in turn gave way to broad stage roads. The first national post route of the country was established in May, 1693. It started at Portsmouth and passed through Newbury, Ipswich, Salem, Marblehead, Lynn, Boston, Dedham, Bristol Ferry, Newport, New London, New Haven, New York, Brooklyn, Staten Island, Philadelphia, through Maryland to James City, Virginia. The mail was first carried by riders, and the customary way of sending inland letters in Massachusetts early in the i6oos was by butchers who made reg- ular trips to buy and sell. In 1648 the elder Winthrop, writing from Boston to his son at New London, uses this method of letter-carrying. The post rider in 1693, starting from Boston, where he received the eastern mail, passed through Roxbury, Ded- ham, Rehoboth, Bristol and Newport to Saybrook, where he met the post rider from New York. There was only a weekly service until I 780. The 84 TRAVEL IN EARLY NEW ENGLAND. early mail riders were also postmas- ters, express agents, newspaper car- riers and guides as well. They carried bundles, and often horses were sent by post. Correspondence at this time with Europe, sent by government packet, was twenty-five cents a letter. To avoid that extortion, as such an amount was considered, it was usual to send by private ships. The fee was one penny to the captain for every let- ter he carried. The first action with regard to a post office in Boston ap- pears to have been an, order of the General Court, Nov. 5, 1639, as fol- lows: For preventing the miscarriage of let- ters it is ordered that notice bee given, that Richard Fairbanks, his house in Bos- ton is the place appointed for all letters which are brought from beyond seas, or to be sent thither, are to be brought unto him, and he is to take care that they bee de- livered, or sent according to their direc- tions; provided that no man shall be com- pelled to bring his letters thither except bee please Corn munication tlirou gh the in- terior of New England was most diffi- cult and dangerous until after 1700, the most easy communication being between the older towns on the coast. The roads between Boston and Ports- mouth, Boston and If artford, and Boston and Rhode Island were the great inland roads previous to the Revolution; and as the roads improved travelers tired of horseback riding, and the great increase of travel demanded lines of stages. In 1770 they began to trot their horses in Massachusetts, previously they were trained to pace, an indication that the roads were better and vehicles becoming more common, as exclusive training for the saddle was going out. Many of the early vehicles were of the rudest de- scription, the harness in many cases consisting solely of ropes. We are told of a citizen of Haverhill whose only vehicle consisted of a pair of shafts fastened to the horse, the ends resting on the ground. A pathetic tale is told of how he bought a cask of molasses, and lashing it across the shafts near the ends, proceeded to carry it home; but after jolting over a rough road, on reaching the top of a lcng hill, the fastenings gave way, and the barrel dashed to the foot, distrib- uting its contents as it went. The sturdy New Englander, noth- ing daunted, continued to improve his condition, and just before the Revolu- tion steel springs were introduced. The vehicle most often mentioned in early times is a calash. This was a very clumsy conveyance, consisting of an open seat set on a low and heavy pair of wheels. Judge Sewall con- stantly writes of his journeying in a calash. Coaches were a familiar sight in Boston before 1700. Up to the time of the Revolution they were usually drawn by four horses. We read of Henry Sharpe, an inn-holder of Salem, cwniug a calash, and that he was not allowed to use it on Sunday except for strict necessity. The term sleigh arose probably in the seventeenth century in or near Boston. The Sewall diary describes a sleighride from Charlestoxvn to Bos- ton on the ice, the sleigh being drawn by four horses, two outriders leading the way. In 1732 carriages were common. Tradition puts the first passage of a team from Connecticut to Provi- dence in 1722. In 1718 the first stage wagon that ever went out of Boston on regular trips was started, and con- nected Boston with Bristol Ferry, where passengers could take boat for Newport or New York; and three years later, in 1721, Peter Belton, who had been a post-rider, started a line of stages from Boston to Newport. He left Boston every Tuesday, and re- turned on Saturday. He carried bundles of goods, merchandise, books, men, women and children. He also let horses and kept a tavern. Prior to 1755 it took three weeks to send a letter from Boston to Philadel- phia, and an answer could not be ex- pected in less than seven weeks; but a reform took place in that year, and a reply could be received in a month from its date. TRAVEL IN EARLY NEW ENGLAND. 85 The first stage between Boston and New York was started June 24, 1772, and was advertised to run once a fort- night. In the Boston Evening Post of July 6, 1772, patronage was solicited, and it was promised that gentlemen and ladies who choose to encourage this new, useful and expensive under- taking may depend upon good usage, and that the coach will alxvays put up at houses on the road where the best entertainment is provided. The coaches will leave New York and Boston on their next trip on Monday, J lily 13, and arrive at each of those places on Saturday, the twenty-fifth, occupying thirteen days in going from one place to the other. The mail was still carried on horseback in saddle- bags. New England xvas destined to see further improvement through the in- strumentality of Levi Pease, a native of Shrewsbury, Massachusetts, who, before the Revolution, was a black- smith in that village. He was with the army duriiig the entire war, im- portant in various ways, his remark- able shrewdness making him espe- cially successful as a bearer of de- spatches. He was also engaged to purchase horses, and entrusted with large amounts of money~ After the close of the war he determined to start a new and, as it seemed to the com- munity, a most hazardous enterprise, no less a scheme than running a line of stages from Boston to Hartford. H e could persuade no one to engage with him in so visionary an undertak- ing, so he turned for help to an old friend, Reuben Sykes,a much younger man than Pease. Sykes father decid- edly opposed the scheme and tried to dissuade him from attempting it, but the son would not listen to the paternal counsels, and the new stage line started Oct. 20, 1783. The journey from Boston to Hartford took four days and the fare was ten dollars. The venture was so successful that two years later Pease became owner of the Boston Inn, where St. Pauls Church now stands, which was thereafter the starting point for his stages. Soon after the line was extended to New York, the time reduced to three days to Hartford and three days to New York, the fare reduced to three pence a mile, and fourteen pounds of bag- gage was allowed each person. Accounts of travelers at this period do not present a picture of easy jour- neying. One says: All day long until ten in the evening the carriage labored, drawn by two horses partly harnessed with ropes. Quagmires were frequent the passengers must be always ready to spring out and help. Through Pease, however, the roads were much improved, and he procured from the government the first charter granted in the state for a turnpike. Many other charters were granted afterward, and about i8oo very many turnpike roads were built, some of which were very profitable, though many brought no return to their builders. From the prospectus of the Sixth Massachusetts Turnpike Company, which was incorporated in 1799 to huild a road from Amherst to near Shrewshury, we learn that the turnpike from Northampton to Pitts- field had paid twelve per cent divi- dends. It was a maxim of the turn- pike builders of this time that their roads must run, regardless of grade, in as nearly a straight line between their respective termini as was possi- ble. This resulted in roads which now appear hardly practicable on account of their hills, but which then attracted travel because of their superiority in construction and maintenance to the old roads. The improvements started by Pease and Sykes were rapidly followed by others more striking, and in 1795 Bos- ton had six mail coaches a week to New Haven, tl1ree going through Providence and three through Spring- field. The mail stages carried only six passengers. The other coaches took nine passengers inside and two on the drivers seat. The fare was higher by the mail coach than on the accommodation lines, as the passen 86 TRAVEL IN EARLY NEW ENGLAND. ger coaches were called. They were expected to rattle over the road at the rate of ten miles an hour. A Scotchman making a tour of New England in 1812 writes: The mail stages are long machines hung on leather braces. The driver must be a white man, and has charge of the mail. The stages are slightly built, with cur- tains to be let down or folded up at pleasure. The state of the ordinary roads and of travel by coach in i8i8 is shown by the following extract from a private letter of that year. A young woman of eighteen living in a town in central Massachusetts is visiting in Cam- bridge, whither her father had taken her in his chaise. The time of her visit having expired, she is impatient to return, and on account of the bad state of the roads her father delays coming for her. But notwithstanding the desire of her family to see her again, her mother writes to her not to think of coming until she is sent for. Your papa, she says, would not trust your life in the stage. It is a very unsafe and improper conveyance for young ladies. Many have been the accidents, many the cripples made by accidents in those vehicles. As soon as your papa can you may be sure he will go or send for you. Which seems to show that as late as i8i8 pri- vate families in traveling used their own conveyances as far as was possi- ble. Captain Basil Hall of the Royal Navy, in his well-known account of his travels in America in 1827, describes the pacing slowly up the steep hill, the galloping down, the stopping every four or five miles to water the horses, the giving out and taking in of mail bags, the changing of coaches and the stopping for gossip or for a glass of brandy,until the day, he says, seemed endless. Captain Hall also describes in an amusing manner his experiences in trying to make matters easier. He wished to ride from Providence to Hartford, seventy-two miles, and find- ing it unpleasant not to be able to stop on the way, tried to make, some ar- rangement by which he could do so. He was told he could regulate matters if he paid for the nine seats. To this Captain Hall consented, but the driver then decided that if the conveyance went at all it must go through in one day. So he tried to hire carriage and horses, but could not, and he was com- pelled to take places on the mail stage. The hour of starting was five in the morning, but, as everything in Amer- ica, he says, comes sooner than one expects, a great tall man walked into my room at ten minutes before four to say it wanted half an hour of five; and presently we heard the rumbling of the stage, thirty minutes before the time specified. There were only five passengers and plenty of room, and we stopped for breakfast in a cheer- ful, sunny parlor, on a neatly dressed repast, with a very pleasant, chatty company. The latter part of the pic- ture sounds not unpleasant, though we can but wonder if the forehanded Americans always made it a practise to start half an hour before the sched- ule time. This may have been custom- ary, as we read of several cases where a chaise and swift horse was called into use to gallop after the stage with a belated passenger. Those were great days in the vil- lages through which the coaches passed. When there were two lines of coaches, as there were between Bos- ton and Providence, great was the rivalry to see which should make the quickest time. The Citizens Line and the Peoples Line both made the trip in four and a half hours, but the Citizens Line, determined not to be outdone, had some light and hand- some coaches built, and with their fastest horses started the Pioneer Line, making the distance in three and a half hours. The Dedham Historical Register tells us: It was a lively, bustling place about the Dedham stage house on the arrival of the coaches. The driver would sound his horn on approaching the village, the fresh horses would be waiting at the door, the horses TRAVEL IN EARLY NEW ENGLAND. changed and the stage on its way again, with only one or two minutes delay. A large number of horses were required, and from seventy-five to one hundred were Vpt at the stables; and underneath were rooms which presented a most lively ap- pearance. where many men were employed in building stage coaches, and some of the finest in the country were made here. In 1829 there were seventy-seven lines of stage-coaches starting from Boston, and in 1832 one hundred and six, all doing a flourishing business. T Boston New in 1829 the and York mail coach left daily at one oclock. It arrived at Hartford the next morn- ing at six oclock, at New Haven at two in the afternoon, and reached New York at six the next night. The stage-driver, said to have been prema- turely bald in consequence of con- stantly wearing his bell-crowned hat, which was always filled with letters and papers, was a highly important person. This man, who took the place of the telegraph and telephone of to- day, delivered messages, paid and col- lected notes and bills, purchased valu- able articles, and delivered to banks money for deposit. A word in closing regarding inns and innkeepers. The first tavern in Boston was started in 1634. There was a legal charge: a meal was six pence, a quart mug of beer a penny. The inn was the centre of political and social activity, and the position of inn- keeper was one of influence. Night after night men gathered in the bar- room to take a social glass and discuss the news of the day and the politics of the country. Not overmuch freedom was allowed the traveler. In 1664 the A lassachusetts General Court enacts that there shall be no rude singing in taverns or ale-houses, and there was no gathering on Saturday night. On Stindav evening they assembled as n sn al. Dr. Dwight in his Travels says that Englishmen often laugh at the fact that inns in New England are kept by men of consequence. Our ancestors, he says, considered the inn as a place where corruption might naturally arise and easily spread, also as a place where travelers must trust themselves, their horses and baggage and money, and where women must not be subjected to disagreeable ex- periences. To provide for safety and comfort and against danger and mis- chief they took particular pains in their laws to prevent inns from being kept by unprincipled and worthless men. Every innkeeper in Connecticut must be recommended by the select- nien and civil authorities, constables and grand jurors of the town in which he resides, and then licensed at the dis- cretion of the Court of Common Pleas. It was substantially the same in Massachusetts and New Hamp- shire. Dwight, once mentioning an inn- keeper, Captain R , says: The treatment we received was such as favorite friends might expect from a very hospitable and wellbred family ; and the Duke de la Rochefoncault left the following tribute to a New Eng- land inn: Although excessively ill, I was sensible of my dreadful situa- tion, being thus laid on a bed of sick- ness among people who had never seen me before, and this idea threw me into great agitation of mind which bor- dered on despair; but fortunately the family at whose house I had stopped were the best people in the world. Both men and women took as much care of me as if I had been their own child. I must repeat it once more that I cannot bestow too much praise on the kindness of these excellent peo- ple. Being a stranger, utterly unac- quainted with them, sick, appearing in the garb of mediocrity bordering on indigence, I possessed not the least claim on the hospitality of this respect- able family but such as their own kind- ness and humanity could suggest; and yet during the five days I continued in their house they neglected their own business to nurse me with the tender- est care and with unwearied solici- tucle. George Monck of the Blue Anchor Tavern in Boston is mentioned as such 88 TRAVEL IN EARLY NI~W ~NCLAND. a genial host that it was almost im- possible not to be merry in his com- pany. The Kings highway was well sup- plied with taverns. There was a tav- ern in Shrewsbury kept by a Revolu- tionary army officer who entertained the military companies as they passed through the town. His house was also a popular resort for teamsters go- ing to and from Boston. There was a large open shed behind the house where their loaded wagons were pro- tected in wet weather, and in another shed were benches and chairs where the teamsters could await their repasts. In the side of the house holes were cut one above another of a size to admit the toe of a mans boot, and they were expected to go in this way to and from their sleeping apartments. The kitchen contained an enormous open fireplace and a broad double door through which horses or oxen drew in the logs for the fire. On the north side of the chimney, we are told, in the garret floor, was an open space about four feet square, enclosed on all sides down to the cellar, with no aper- ture save at the top. The exact pur- pose of this deep, dark place is not known, but it was called the dun- geon, and may have been intended for a hiding-place, as the times were peril- ous. The Howe Tavern of Sudhury, first opened in 1700, was one of the most noted inns, and is the Wayside Inn of which Longfellow writes. It was huilt in i686, and was called the Red Horse, and kept by the Howe family for several generations. In 1711 the road on which it was situated became a post road, and mail was carried over it twice a week to New York, so its life was one of activity and business. There was a large common room which had a bar in one corner and a desk in another where the tipplers score was set down. The floor was bare and daily sprinkled with white sand. There was a state chamber which Washington and Lafayette are said to have occupied, and an enor- mous garret where the slaves were accommodated. A dance hall with polished floor, benches against the wall where one could rest after the minuet or cotillon, and a raised plat- form for the fiddlers, was an important feature. * As a final picture of life in coaching days let us turn to The Historic Fields and Mansions of Middlesex, where Mr. Drake gives us a sight of the life at the Red Horse, so pleas- ing that we almost feel we have lost in comfort what we have gained in speed, and that there were, after all, many compensations in the good old days. A traveler, after a hard days jaunt, pulls tip at the Red Horse. The landlord is at the door, hat in hand, with a cheery welcome and a shout to the blacks to care for the strangers beast. Is it winter, a. mimic conflagration roars on the hearth, a bowl of punch is brewed smoking hot. Soon there comes a summons to the table, where good, wholesome roast beef, done to that perfection of which the turnspit only was capable, roasted potatoes with their russet jackets brown and crisp, and a loaf as white as the landladys Sunday cap, send up an appetizing odor. For drink, the well was deep, the water pure and spark- ling, but home-brewed ale or cider were at the guests elbow, and a cup of chocolate finished his repast. He begins to be drowsy, and is lighted to an upper chamber by some pretty maid-of-all work. At part- ing, Boniface holds his guests stirrup. warns him of the ford or the morass, and bids him good speed. *See article on The wayside Inn in the New Eng. land Magazine, November, illci, and article on The Landlord of the wa~side Inn, May, 1894. THE ALTAR OF YOUTH. A COMEI)Y. By El/ic! Davis. III. ~f T is generally thought that after a great trouble which is never to be remedied, like a final sep- aration from one loved or the j~ loss of faith in a lover, most Q~~J natures in time recover from the blow, regaining hope and their former capacity to enjoy. This is not true. Most memories are unequal to retaining the image of their feelings before the catastrophe, and cease to realize and regret the chanoe The joyousness does not return after deep experience. But to the few, on whom impressions are both subtle and deep, there come moments when they are startled by a buoyancy that makes them pause in the act that they are performing, and wonder xvhat is the forgotten anticipation of the day which makes them feel like this. The question is always answered by the realization that this is an evanescent repetition of a mood of long ago, and is followed by a reaction of intense regret, longing and rebellion. With the coming of the spring to Clarendon, this haunting mood found its entrance to Peggy Thorntons heart. The heavy scent of lilac, the faint sweetness of the blossoming cherry trees, the shining of the moon- light on the flower-laden valley, the sudden speaking of an unforgotten name, would touch her, for a second, with this spirit of the past, and with its fleeting she would turn dependently to Zach, who could not know what moved her to look at him as if for help, but who met the expression with a manly tenderness which reassured and comforted her, bringing a peace no other friend could ever make her feel. Yet Zach himself xvas in sore need of help. The acquaintances who saw him every day took as yet no notice of the fact that the boyish expression of his face had been lined away, and in its stead was the look of a man old be- yond his years, matured first by the precocious unfolding of a powerful mind and later by the developing ex- perience of love. It was because this love of Zachs was deep beyond self- seeking, tender with understanding and sympathy, strong and enduring, that without any analysis of what she rested upon, Peggy turned constantly to him and silently demanded his ser- vices and care. While he was in her presence this dependence was so great a happiness to Zach that he sometimes would feel a choking in his throat as he rendered her some trifling service, which she asked with such sim- plicity; but when he was away from her every such memory was pain. It had been several weeks since he had received a letter from James telling him that he had decided to make a trip to Clarendon; yet Zach had not yet got himself sufficiently under control to tell Peggy of the fact when a second letter, setting the date of his brothers arrival, warned him that he had no time for further delay. The night on which he received it, he and Peggy met at a dinner given by Mrs. Atherton James as a sort of preliminary to the graduation and Commencement exercises that were to begin the folloxving week. When the ladies withdrew from the table Zach slipped away from the other men and, joining Peggy, drew her out on to the piazza to talk to her of its contents uninterrupted by the other guests. It took much longer to introduce the subject than Zach had thought he 89

THE ALTAR OF YOUTH. A COMEI)Y. By El/ic! Davis. III. ~f T is generally thought that after a great trouble which is never to be remedied, like a final sep- aration from one loved or the j~ loss of faith in a lover, most Q~~J natures in time recover from the blow, regaining hope and their former capacity to enjoy. This is not true. Most memories are unequal to retaining the image of their feelings before the catastrophe, and cease to realize and regret the chanoe The joyousness does not return after deep experience. But to the few, on whom impressions are both subtle and deep, there come moments when they are startled by a buoyancy that makes them pause in the act that they are performing, and wonder xvhat is the forgotten anticipation of the day which makes them feel like this. The question is always answered by the realization that this is an evanescent repetition of a mood of long ago, and is followed by a reaction of intense regret, longing and rebellion. With the coming of the spring to Clarendon, this haunting mood found its entrance to Peggy Thorntons heart. The heavy scent of lilac, the faint sweetness of the blossoming cherry trees, the shining of the moon- light on the flower-laden valley, the sudden speaking of an unforgotten name, would touch her, for a second, with this spirit of the past, and with its fleeting she would turn dependently to Zach, who could not know what moved her to look at him as if for help, but who met the expression with a manly tenderness which reassured and comforted her, bringing a peace no other friend could ever make her feel. Yet Zach himself xvas in sore need of help. The acquaintances who saw him every day took as yet no notice of the fact that the boyish expression of his face had been lined away, and in its stead was the look of a man old be- yond his years, matured first by the precocious unfolding of a powerful mind and later by the developing ex- perience of love. It was because this love of Zachs was deep beyond self- seeking, tender with understanding and sympathy, strong and enduring, that without any analysis of what she rested upon, Peggy turned constantly to him and silently demanded his ser- vices and care. While he was in her presence this dependence was so great a happiness to Zach that he sometimes would feel a choking in his throat as he rendered her some trifling service, which she asked with such sim- plicity; but when he was away from her every such memory was pain. It had been several weeks since he had received a letter from James telling him that he had decided to make a trip to Clarendon; yet Zach had not yet got himself sufficiently under control to tell Peggy of the fact when a second letter, setting the date of his brothers arrival, warned him that he had no time for further delay. The night on which he received it, he and Peggy met at a dinner given by Mrs. Atherton James as a sort of preliminary to the graduation and Commencement exercises that were to begin the folloxving week. When the ladies withdrew from the table Zach slipped away from the other men and, joining Peggy, drew her out on to the piazza to talk to her of its contents uninterrupted by the other guests. It took much longer to introduce the subject than Zach had thought he 89 90 THE ALTAR OF YOUTH. needed. So much time slipped away before he made his statement that Peggy had no opportunity to do more than give a little exclamation and reach out to shake hands with him, when they were interrupted by the bustle of the arrival from the dining- room of the other men. Peggy looked up and, excited by Zachs news, laughed as she xvatched Manchester walk straight across the drawing- room to the window through which they had stepped out upon the piazza. As he joined them, Zach took the op- portunity to withdraw, relieved to escape without betraying to Peggy how greatly he was perturbed himself. As Manchester took Zachs seat he exclaimed: Why are you laughing at me this time, 1\iiss Thornton? If you knew how tired I am of seeming funny to you, Im sure you would once in a while restrain your mirth. I was including i\Ir. Gordon and you in the same laugh, replied Peggy. I was amused because you are so different. I admit that. Which of us did what tonight ? You did. I always do. When he comes in after dinner, or any other American,he saunters into the room, looking carelessly round, apparently not noticing any- one in particular, and stopping first by one woman and then another, he makes a zig-zag course till lie gets to the one lie intended from the first to have a talk with. Then he carries her off to a corner and so forth. You stop short on the threshold and look the room over thoroughlyand every one in the rooni watches to see what you will do next. You wait till you discover the woman you want and then you stride to her chair, carry her off with an air that seems to say its no matter whether she wants to go or not and so forth. Manchester laughed as he recog- nized the faithfulness of the descrip- tion. Do you really dislike all our Eng- lish ways so much, Miss Thornton? he asked, rather wistfully. Why, no, answered Peggy. Its only that were trained so differently. We are taught that we must conceal all our thoughts, from the time xve are old enough to know we have any, from every man we meet; and the men are chivalrous enough to help us to do it, by not calling attention to their attentions to us. Then we all go through a process of watching and guessing, that brings us to the same place in the end that you Britons get to in the first place. Your way is a great relief. Im heartsick with the effort to conceal niyself in such a way that everyope will understand me after all. I wish I could do that, Miss Thorn- tonunderstand you, I niean. Wont you tell me what your weakest point is, so I can surprise you into losing your self-control? It wont help you. So I shall be delighted. Its my mouth. I can keep the rest of my face as impenetrable as the sphinx, but my mouth will quiver and give me away. I often wish it was covered by a mustache. Miss Thornton, allow me! It would be the greatest pleasure in the world It almost startled her into scream- ing, so sudden was his move. She had just time to clap both hands over the offending meniber before his mus- tache was close to her lips. He dropped back into his seat with a sigh. Another failure. And now I sup- pose you will be indignant besides. Miss Thornton, (10 you honestly think it would have done any harm if Id taken that kiss? Peggy started to reply with a vehe- ment Yes, but stopped herself as she realized that she was not sure that it would be the truth. If youll prom- ise not to take advantage, Ill think out loud to you, she said. I promise. I shouldnt have cared a bit, she said. Im niade all wrong. I often THE ALTAR OF YOUTH. 9 think I should like to kiss you, and other fine, clean sort of men. But I wouldnt do it, or let you do it it would be almost as bad as kissing some women. \Vhat do you mean, Miss Thorn- ton! WellI dont just know Peggy paused, but there was such an air of command in Manchesters attention that there was no chance for retreat. Her confusion dispelled itself in a smile, as she said suddenly: Well, kisses are Gods sweetmeats, and they are not so appetizing when they come to you soiled by the devils hands. Manchester sat still a minute, and Peggy recognized that his silence was portentous. She glanced anxiously into the drawing-room, hoping to find deliverance there, but no one was in a position to notice her appealing look. Before she could think of a word to break the spell it was too late. Peggy, I only know the English way. I cant be graceful, or help startling you by coming straight at you, when you dont expect it. Im not good enough for you but my love isnt soiled that xvay. Peggy, can you take it, dear? All the pain of the last five years, all the unaccepted love, the shaming re- buffs, the loneliness, the emptiness of a future entered on alone, passed through Peggys heart as she sat silent before Edward Manchester, unable to summon courage to tell another he must suffer as she had been suffering. At last she lifted her eyes to his. I knoxv how it hurts. You remem- ber the way I was when you first came. No woman is ever like that unless she loves someone who doesnt care for her. I tell you becausebecause its so axvful to think I could make anyone feel like thatand because its the only thing that will make you not care so much. Manchester took one of her hands and lifted it to his lips. Nothing could make me not care so much now, Peggy. Its too late. But its not your fault. They were still for a moment, and then he burst out again: Dont you think that later you could forget that other man if he doesnt careand I do? I love you, Peggy. I cant tell you what I feel. I could live it for you. Is there no chance? None. I have felt it all, and I know. I thought my telling you I loved someone else would make you stop caring for me. Nothing in Gods world could make me stop, Peggy. They sat for a fexv minutes embar- rassed and silent, and then Manches- ter abruptly began to speak of the Commencement exercises which they were to attend the following week. Peggy answered him mechanically for a few minutes, and then Manchester saw her shiver. He rose, saying: You are cold. Let me take you inside before you are chilled. No, Im not cold; but I wish you would take me back to the drawing- room, she said; and the two came back into the light, among the people, and talked small talk, and laughed at poor jokes, and conversed with unnat- ural animation, and steadfastly con- cealed from the other guests that they were both longing to go away and hide their pain in the loneliness of the night. Iv. Peggy swung slowly hack and forth in the hammock on the hack piazza, and looked idly at the mountains that rose blue behind and above the ter- races on which Clarendon was built. She held a book in her hand, which she glanced at from time to time, to mislead any chance observer from the windows of the house, but she did not try to deceive herself into think- ing that she could read. It was five days since she had hurt Manchester to the quick, four days since she had seen Zach, and James Gordon had been in town three days arid had not yet been to see her. She xvas restless, lonely and excited, feel- ing impotent against some undefined, 92 THE ALTAR OF YOUTH. impending crisis, and grieved and em- barrassed when she thought that she must inevitably meet Manchester again before long. But she worried most over the unaccountable desertion of Zach. She realized for the first time that hitherto during the last three months there had been no day when she had not been made conscious of his unceasing devotion. She acknowl- edged to herself that he had been the guiding influence in her daily life. Her mind dwelt on the fact that it was owing to Zach that there had been a revolution in the attitude of Claren- don toward her, and she wondered with a sort of terror whether she could hold steadfastly her newly acquired independence, fearless of the opinion that others might hold of her actions, if Zach were to withdraw his approval and support. As she brooded thus the longing she had cherished to see James Gordon, to speak to him alone the first time that they met, and the pain that he bad not sought her out at onceso akin to all the suffering that she had borne from him in the past was replaced with a nervous anxiety lest Zach should not be with her, to help guard her from self-revelation and mistake when this first meeting should take place. Her nature became con- centrated in a longing for Zachs pres- ence; it seemed to her that she could not bear another hour of life unless he came and quieted the unreasoning fears of some indefinite future danger, which were taking possession of her imagination. Meantime Zach was in still greater distress of mind. He found, xvith sur- prise and pain, that during their sepa- ration his attitude of admiring depend- ence on his older brother had been somehow lost. James, handsome, magnetic, honest, as he recognized him to be, seemed to him no longer his accepted superior, but his ecjual, sub- ject to his criticism, andfrom his careless nature and less comprehen- sive mind his intellectual junior, rather than his senior by ten years, But Zach would have found it easy to adjust himself to this new relation had it not been that the thought of Peggy Thornton stood between him and his brother, and he was obliged to com- bat a deep resentment against him, as the barrier between himself and the woman whom he loved, finding her his perfect complement and that which satisfied his conception of woman- hood. XVith nervous expectation he waited through the three days which folloxved his brothers arrival for him to declare that the moment lad come for visiting Peggy; but although James speeches showed that his thoughts turned frequently to her, he did not make any proposal to visit her. Zach became sure there was some rea- son besides the many employments with which the days were filled which made him shrink from his first visit to her. On the third day he could no longer bear his suspense, and after a casual reference of James to some re- membered incident in the past, he abruptly broke his reserve: Wasnt Peggy Thornton your chief reason for coming out here, Jim ? Well,perhaps. Then I cant make you out. Six days and nights of travel for a woman, and then not the nerve to call. Whats the matter? Jim did not answer at once. Then he said, with a seniors assumption of large experience: If youd ever been in the position of the man who found that a woman was all there was in life to him, and that she didnt care a rap, but gave herself body and soul to another man, youd know why I put off opening an old wound, even for Peggy Thornton. Involuntarily Zach clinched his fist, with a feeling of intense pain, and an impulse to strike down the man who had stirred the emotion in him. It was only a momentary feeling, and he controlled himself. If I were in your place I shouldnt spend any time thinking about that other man, he said in a tense voice. After five years he hasnt got her. THE ALTAR OF YOUTH. 93 Jim looked at him in amazement, then repeated his words heavily: Hasnt got her? As Zach made no reply, he looked at him with a dazed expression; then suddenly his face lighted. Zach, have you thought all this time that I was in love with Peggy Thornton ? You never left me any doubt on that point. You gave me an insight the night you told me she owed the devil a debt for keeping him out of his rights in your soul. James looked penetratingly into his brothers face and read his story. Zach, he said, its always the other woman who saves a mans soul Zach started to interrupt, but James made a quick gesture and went on: I took it for granted that you knew, though theres no reason in the world you should. It was her cousin, Louisa Waring, I . Peggy lived with her while she was in the East, and after Louisa married Harold Briggs she took me in hand and carried me through. Everyone thought it was Peggy I cared for, and that she threw me over. If the people who were there and saw it thought so its no wonder that you did. My going abroad and travelling with her uncle and aunt and Peggy all the next sum- mer was what threw most people off the track. What she was to me through that time no human being can ever know. She seemed to read all my thoughts and feelings, without a hint on my part, and know just the word to say, the little act to give me courage and hope in life. She Ive never seen her since, and I thought now it was far enotigh past for me to meet her once more. But when it comes to the point, Im a coward again. Im afraid the whole thing will come back at the sound of Peggys voice. Zach had turned so that James could not see his face. His heart was pounding, and he felt choked and hot, as, with the swift instinct of love, he guessed at the part that Peggy had played through those summer months; but he spoke coldly: It isnt usual to put a woman in a position where she gets the credit of having encouraged a man unscrupu- lously to throw him ovcr in the end, and to take all her time and strength and thought, and offer nothing back, even if a man has lost his chance with the woman he loves. Did you ever ask what Peggy felt while this was going on? Peggy begged me to come, her- self. She said frankly she always did tell truths that other girls dont that everyone would think I was in love with her, and in that way I could hide the fact which she and I had known from the beginning, that it was Louisa I cared for. She said she thought it would be easier for rn~ to be with her than to fight it out alone. I can never forget how she asked me if I should be ashamed of having people think that I could fall in love with her. I told her, with perfect truth, that I wished from the bottom of my heart that I could do it, and then succeed in winning her. After that she settled it all without my real- izing much what I was about. She always said it made no difference, one way or the other, what people thought or said, as long as neither of us would feel it was a thing to be ashamed of if it happened to be true. Zach rose hurriedly and exclaimed: If you havent had the impulse to go to see her after all this, so much the worse for you! There comes Man- chester. Go help him and the girls decorate the casino for the Commence- ment ball, go play golf with him. Im going on an errand myself. And with that he started rapidly for the Thorntons, not analyzing what he intended to do, but with the impulse of marching straight up to Peggy, taking her in his arms and kissing away all her memory of the past, while he poured into her ears incoherent words of indignation, sympathy, ad- miration, tenderness, and love. What has happened, Zach? ex 94 THE ALTAR OF YOUTH. claimed Peggy, as he dragged his chair close to her hammock. No one has been near me for days. We might as well have had out a scarlet fever flag. James never could be de- pended on, but it worried me about you. Why havent you been here? Ive heard from you every day, Peggy. Four of my class were up yesterday, you know; and the day be- fore, I\Irs. Jennings and Bertha, I saw them start and called on them as soon as they got home, and the day before But Ive been so worried for fear I shouldnt see you before James made his first call, to tell you to be sure to come with him. Why didnt you come yourself? I didnt dare to, Peggy. He put his hand on the hammock ropes and bent over her, his face sup- plementing the remark so fully that she dropped her eyes and held her breath. She dreaded to hear him answer, yet the force of his emotion seemed to drag the question from her: Why ? I was afraid I should tell you that I love you. For a moment Peggy was perfectly still, not knowing what to reply; then a humiliating pain stung her into speech. How can you say such a cruel thing to me, Zach Gordon! I never dreamed you could be so heart- less. Why couldnt you have gone away and left things as they were, and not make me face that you have been ashamed to let yourself love me, like this? I might have thought of you all my life as one friend who never Ashamed, Peggy! How dare you think such a thing of me! I know per- fectly well that the best, the deepest thing that ever came into my life is my love for you. I shall thank God for it, whether youll have me or not. But, oh! Peggy, dont send me away ! She tried to speak bravely, but her voice almost failed her as she looked into Zachs honest eyes. But Im much older than you are, Zach. We couldnt this is your first love, and youll get over it and not care for ~ You know better, Peggy. You know Im years older than most men of my age. Youre judging by what people xvould say, not by the truth. I love you. I xvouldnt have you a day younger. I wouldnt have one bit of your past life changed. I want you this way just exactly as you are. Theres only one thing that can make me give you up, to have you tell me that you love another man, and that you believe you can make him love you back. Peggy, is that the case? Before Peggys mind came the pic- ture of James, the man who had taught her the bitterness and the beauty of life. Then she looked up into the strong, tender face bending over her. This was the man whose nature matched, supported, strength- ened her own, the man whose presence meant security and content. Yet was James still the man she loved? Zach, I dont know myself, she answered slowly, her face flushing painfully as she spoke. Ive got to see him once more first. Dont make me answer now and dont go away and leave me by myself. Cant yon take me somewhere and not talk about it at all? I know how selfish I am with you; but everyone else makes me take care of them and help them through the ugly things in life. Youre the only one who ever thinks its worth while to take care of me and give me help, and I cant help taking advantage of your love. We wont talk any more about it till to-morrow, Peggy; but I shall ask you again then, for youll see every- one you know at the ball to-night. We might go down to the casino now, and see what the committee have done. Manchester and Jim have worked like dogs over the decora- tions, and all the girls in town have been helping them, except you. I dont want to go there. After James has once been up here, it will be different. Well just go to walk, and not have a destination in life. THE ALTAR OF YOUTH. 95 Manchester came round for Jim to play golf just as I started for here, and the rooms are shut up until to-night. Ive got a key, and I wish youd stop a minute and see if you can think of any way of hiding the bowling alleys from the hall. Zach thought he xvas telling the truth about Manchester and James. He was, therefore, as surprised as she when he let himself and Peggy into the casino to find Manchester and James in possession of the hall, where they were erecting a triumphal arch before the entrance to the conserva- tory, as a final surprise for their fellow-decorators. It had been many years since Peggy Thornton had been completely con- fused by any social complication. But as, escorted by the man who was at that moment waiting for an answer to the question whether she would ever love him or not, she came sud- denly upon the man whom she had not seen since she told him she could not be his wife, standing be- side that other man whom she had acknowledged to him that she had loved for years, the situation over- came her. She did not reason that neither James nor Zach could know that she was meeting Manchester for the first time since he had been re- fused. She did not reason that neither of the other men knew that there was anything new in her relation to Zach, nor that Manchester could not know that James was the man to whom she had referred. She simply stood before the three, turning from white to pink, from pink to red, and looking from right to left as for a spot to which to flee; and when James advanced and held out a cor- dial hand, she backed away while she gave him hers, exclaiming as she did so: Zach said there wouldnt be a soul here before eight oclock to-night! As the words left her lips, she caught Manchesters eyes fixed on her in pity and amazement at her confu- sion, and realized that he would im agine that her unexpected meeting with him was the cause of her embar- rassment; and before the thought was formulated, she conceived, with ap- prehension, that James would con- clude from her remark that she had sought this spot for the express pur- pose of a tete-~-t& e with Zach. At the same time it flashed upon her that Zach would imagine that she was completely overcome by her first meeting with James. It was in vain that she tried to give her mind to the eager comments and explanations that the three tactfully poured forth about the decorations; in vain that she tried to comprehend Jamess request for a waltz that evening and Zachs sugges- tion that she should inspect the supper room. All was a blur and discord in her ears, and after an impotent ef- fort to answer she suddenly burst into hysterical laughter and fled through the door which Zach had left open, dashing into the fields, and never stop- ping until she reached the grove beyond. The three men looked at each other curiously. Zach was the first to speak. He managed to say: I got her into this scrape; I must go and get her out, and he swiftly followed Peggy, as she fled away. When Zach came up with her in the woods he found that she had thrown herself down on a fallen log and burst into sobs which mingled with her laughter, the first attack of hysterics she had ever experienced. For a mo- ment he knew not what to do. Then he quietly dropped down on the log be- side her and gathered her in his arms. Darling, what do you care? What difference can it make? At .first she could not reply, but when she recovered her self-posses- sion, coerced by the awkward habit of telling the truth to Zach, she exclaimed: Well, if youd been brought suddenly face to face with the man you used to love, and the man who loved you, and the man you loved, I think youd have hysterics yourself. 96 ROSE EVIDENCE. For an instant Zach was silent. Then he said tremblingly: Peggy, any blind man can see that both Man- chester and I love you. Which is the man you love? Only a man as pure and simple as Zach would have needed to ask that question of the girl who nestled be- side him, abandoning herself to his comforting like a trustful child. For a moment it was very still in the woods while Zach waited what seemed to him an endless time for Peggys ansxver. At last she looked up at him. She did not speak; but as he looked into her radiant face Zach was satisfied. JIIE ENI). ROSE EVIDENCE. By BLssie Chandler. SOMETIMES, upon a dusty country road, We meet a breath of sudden sweet perfume, And find alone, aloof from all abode, Old-fashioned roses rioting in bloom. Near by, half hidden in the knee-deep grass, The myrtle gleams, a richer, decper green, And stares with blue-eyed wonder as xve pass, Then nestles low, and dreams itself unseen. All signs of life or ownership have fled, Only the green grass stretches far and near; And yet the roses and the myrtle bed Say mournfully: A home stood one day here. * * * * * * Dear friend, though you may look with cold, hard eves At all lifes fohhies,mock its joy and woe, You cannot trick me with your stern disguise; The secret of your buried life I know. For once, beneath the furrows Time has ploxved, Behind the stony wall the years have reared, I caught a glimpse of sweetness, unavowed, A tender look that came and disappeared. And now, though unbent will and iron nerve Have molded all your face with cruel art, I see around your mouth that tender curve, And know that once Love dwelt within your heart.

96 ROSE EVIDENCE. For an instant Zach was silent. Then he said tremblingly: Peggy, any blind man can see that both Man- chester and I love you. Which is the man you love? Only a man as pure and simple as Zach would have needed to ask that question of the girl who nestled be- side him, abandoning herself to his comforting like a trustful child. For a moment it was very still in the woods while Zach waited what seemed to him an endless time for Peggys ansxver. At last she looked up at him. She did not speak; but as he looked into her radiant face Zach was satisfied. JIIE ENI). ROSE EVIDENCE. By BLssie Chandler. SOMETIMES, upon a dusty country road, We meet a breath of sudden sweet perfume, And find alone, aloof from all abode, Old-fashioned roses rioting in bloom. Near by, half hidden in the knee-deep grass, The myrtle gleams, a richer, decper green, And stares with blue-eyed wonder as xve pass, Then nestles low, and dreams itself unseen. All signs of life or ownership have fled, Only the green grass stretches far and near; And yet the roses and the myrtle bed Say mournfully: A home stood one day here. * * * * * * Dear friend, though you may look with cold, hard eves At all lifes fohhies,mock its joy and woe, You cannot trick me with your stern disguise; The secret of your buried life I know. For once, beneath the furrows Time has ploxved, Behind the stony wall the years have reared, I caught a glimpse of sweetness, unavowed, A tender look that came and disappeared. And now, though unbent will and iron nerve Have molded all your face with cruel art, I see around your mouth that tender curve, And know that once Love dwelt within your heart. 98 OLD DOVER, NEW HAMPSHIRE. in the spring of 1623 Edward Hil- ton, an English gentleman, and his brother William established them- selves upon the neck of land now called Dover Point, built there two housesand thus begun the first per- manent settlement in New Hampshire. The little settlement did not grow rapidly. In 1630 there were but three houses in all this part of the country. But three years later, in the good ship James, which was but eight weeks between Gravesend and Salem, there came, under the patronage of Lords Say and Brooke, a substantial emigra- tion to the little colony. Governor Winthrop of Boston records that the ship brought Captain Wiggin and about thirty, with one Mr. Leverich, a godly minister, to Pascataquack (which the Lord Say and the Lord Brooke had purchased of the Bristol men), and about forty for Virginia and about twenty for this place and about ixty cattle. The place was evidently as difficult to name as a first child. Pascataqua, or Pascataquack as Winthrop wrote it, was the Indian name of the river; and Cochecho, foaming water, of the falls in what is now the central part of the city. In the Swamscot patent, Dover Point was called Wecanaco- hunt; but while Hilton controlled it, it was known in English as Hiltons Point. One old map names the settle- ment Bristow, from Bristol, the town in England where its principal owners lived. Before 1639 it had been called Dover, but within two years had be- come North- am, only to change in two years more back to Dover again. The point of land opposite Do- ver Point, now a part of New- ington, was called Bloody Point, because being included in the grants to both Ports- mouth and Dover it became a ground of contention to the two plantations. In a dispute regarding its possession, the captains of the two here drew their swords. No blood was shed. But, says the old chronicler, in respect not of what did, but what might have fallen out, the place to this day retains the formidable name of Bloody Point. When after eighteen years Qf inde- pendent life, New Hampshire for pur- poses of common defence entered into a union with Massachusetts, a differ- ence of religious standpoint gave rise to numerous contests of argument, in the course of which the little state stood up vigorously against the dom- inance of the larger. Dr. Quint says that to obtain the consent of the New Hampshire towns in 1641 to a union with Massachusetts that province was forced to relieve these towns from its law that none but church members could be voters in the state. Though public opinion was strong enough thus to force concessions for the right of suffrage, it did not wholly resist the infitlence of the larger and dominating state in matters of conscience. In De .BLOODY POINT.

98 OLD DOVER, NEW HAMPSHIRE. in the spring of 1623 Edward Hil- ton, an English gentleman, and his brother William established them- selves upon the neck of land now called Dover Point, built there two housesand thus begun the first per- manent settlement in New Hampshire. The little settlement did not grow rapidly. In 1630 there were but three houses in all this part of the country. But three years later, in the good ship James, which was but eight weeks between Gravesend and Salem, there came, under the patronage of Lords Say and Brooke, a substantial emigra- tion to the little colony. Governor Winthrop of Boston records that the ship brought Captain Wiggin and about thirty, with one Mr. Leverich, a godly minister, to Pascataquack (which the Lord Say and the Lord Brooke had purchased of the Bristol men), and about forty for Virginia and about twenty for this place and about ixty cattle. The place was evidently as difficult to name as a first child. Pascataqua, or Pascataquack as Winthrop wrote it, was the Indian name of the river; and Cochecho, foaming water, of the falls in what is now the central part of the city. In the Swamscot patent, Dover Point was called Wecanaco- hunt; but while Hilton controlled it, it was known in English as Hiltons Point. One old map names the settle- ment Bristow, from Bristol, the town in England where its principal owners lived. Before 1639 it had been called Dover, but within two years had be- come North- am, only to change in two years more back to Dover again. The point of land opposite Do- ver Point, now a part of New- ington, was called Bloody Point, because being included in the grants to both Ports- mouth and Dover it became a ground of contention to the two plantations. In a dispute regarding its possession, the captains of the two here drew their swords. No blood was shed. But, says the old chronicler, in respect not of what did, but what might have fallen out, the place to this day retains the formidable name of Bloody Point. When after eighteen years Qf inde- pendent life, New Hampshire for pur- poses of common defence entered into a union with Massachusetts, a differ- ence of religious standpoint gave rise to numerous contests of argument, in the course of which the little state stood up vigorously against the dom- inance of the larger. Dr. Quint says that to obtain the consent of the New Hampshire towns in 1641 to a union with Massachusetts that province was forced to relieve these towns from its law that none but church members could be voters in the state. Though public opinion was strong enough thus to force concessions for the right of suffrage, it did not wholly resist the infitlence of the larger and dominating state in matters of conscience. In De .BLOODY POINT. 98 OLD DOVER, NEW HAMPSHIRE. in the spring of 1623 Edward Hil- ton, an English gentleman, and his brother William established them- selves upon the neck of land now called Dover Point, built there two housesand thus begun the first per- manent settlement in New Hampshire. The little settlement did not grow rapidly. In 1630 there were but three houses in all this part of the country. But three years later, in the good ship James, which was but eight weeks between Gravesend and Salem, there came, under the patronage of Lords Say and Brooke, a substantial emigra- tion to the little colony. Governor Winthrop of Boston records that the ship brought Captain Wiggin and about thirty, with one Mr. Leverich, a godly minister, to Pascataquack (which the Lord Say and the Lord Brooke had purchased of the Bristol men), and about forty for Virginia and about twenty for this place and about ixty cattle. The place was evidently as difficult to name as a first child. Pascataqua, or Pascataquack as Winthrop wrote it, was the Indian name of the river; and Cochecho, foaming water, of the falls in what is now the central part of the city. In the Swamscot patent, Dover Point was called Wecanaco- hunt; but while Hilton controlled it, it was known in English as Hiltons Point. One old map names the settle- ment Bristow, from Bristol, the town in England where its principal owners lived. Before 1639 it had been called Dover, but within two years had be- come North- am, only to change in two years more back to Dover again. The point of land opposite Do- ver Point, now a part of New- ington, was called Bloody Point, because being included in the grants to both Ports- mouth and Dover it became a ground of contention to the two plantations. In a dispute regarding its possession, the captains of the two here drew their swords. No blood was shed. But, says the old chronicler, in respect not of what did, but what might have fallen out, the place to this day retains the formidable name of Bloody Point. When after eighteen years Qf inde- pendent life, New Hampshire for pur- poses of common defence entered into a union with Massachusetts, a differ- ence of religious standpoint gave rise to numerous contests of argument, in the course of which the little state stood up vigorously against the dom- inance of the larger. Dr. Quint says that to obtain the consent of the New Hampshire towns in 1641 to a union with Massachusetts that province was forced to relieve these towns from its law that none but church members could be voters in the state. Though public opinion was strong enough thus to force concessions for the right of suffrage, it did not wholly resist the influence of the larger and dominating state in matters of conscience. In De jBLOODY POINT. OLD DOVER, ATEW HAMPSHIRE. 99 cember, 1662, by order of the Massa- chusetts government, three Quaker women were tied to a carts tail and publicly whipped through these streets; but this severity was not long lived, and our annals are wholly free from the stain of the witchcraft delu- sion. Widely known names appear in the history of the little town. Hanserd Knollys, who in December, 1638, for- mally organized the First Church here though for five years previous there had been preaching by Leverich and Burdett,was a learned scholar and OLD GARRI5ON HOUSES. author. Of his autobiography ,onlyd~ two copies are known to be in America, one in the library of Har- vard College, the other in a private library in Dover. Of Captain John Underhill, the friend of Sir Henry Vane, Whittier, who has sung many of the legends of this region, tells the story. Banished from Massachusetts on account of charges in which a pipe of tobacco figured along with reports of a graver nature, Underhill, Whittier says, Left three-hilled Boston and wandered down East by north to Cochecho town. It was more nearly north by east, but that is no matter. Dover received Underhill gladly, made him her gov- ernor, and throughout his later career of ambitious scheming and humble confession of grave sins, treated him always as befitted a man who had drawn his sword bravely in his coun- trys service. But of all those early names, none became the centre of so many associa- tions as did that of Major Richard Waldron, or Walderne, as the name used to be written. Born in Alcester, England, he brought the first strength of his young manhood over to the vicissitudes of the newly opened coun- try. Here he spent fifty years of his life, and here he met his tragic death. He was the first to build sawmills and utilize the natural facilities of the place for trade. Before that there had been uncertainties of business interests. The first comers expected to find in a new country unexhausted supplies of 100 OLD DOVER, NEW HAMPSHIRE. silver and gold. In the first grants of land a certain proportion is reserved to the crown of the oares fonnd thereon. When no gold appeared, the settlers tried the planting of vineyards, only to find that New Hampshire is not a grape-growing conn- try. Bnt there were ever fish at their feet and for- ests at their very doors; and gradnally grew np the indnstries of cnring fish for the English markets and preparing lnmber for West Indian trade. Then the practical eye of Waldron saw his opportnnity, and saw-mills began to clnster ronnd the falls of Goche- cho. Waldron himself became chief magistrate, depnty to the assembly at Boston, Speaker of the Honse there, and commander of the militia, no mean position in those days. In the early part of his life, the settlement, except for religions and political distnrbances, was at peace; bnt with the passing of the years, the Indians who had been accnstomed to roam these fields and hills, seeing their hnnting gronnds planted with grain and their rivers forced to tnrn wheels for grist, grew morose and watched the steady en- croachment with a menacing eye. By 1667 the settlers deemed it pm- dent to erect a bnlwark aronnd their beloved little meeting honse. Garri- son-honses for themselves, too, were thonght wise. Into these garrison- honses the little town, consisting then of abont forty families, retired every night. Looking back, one wonders how they conld have stowed them- selves, half a dozen families each per- haps with half a dozen children, into the tiny honses with two rooms on the gronnd floor and the long, low-roofed, nndivided room in the half-story over- head. Bnt here they met and slept and dreamed, and here too they fonght. The only garrison-honse now standing has still in its timbers bnllets from those early conflicts, and from the gronnd near by the plongh has tnmned np weapons, stont in spite of the inst of two hnndred years. These garrison-honses were stnrdy timber strnctnres with portholes for gnns and with the second story pro- jecting over the first in order that persons in the second might ponr down hot water on foes attempt- ing to force an entrance or to fire the bnilding. Aronnd the honse was hnilt a stont stockade. Of these fortifications there were six at Gochecho, one at Bellamy, one or two at Back River, and abont twelve at Oyster River. Yet these defences were not snificient to provide safety against the foe, ma- lignant and crafty, that was rising JOHN P. HALE. against them. Hope Hood, son of Robin Hood, hereditary sagamore of all the lands in this region, was only REV. HANSERD KNOLLYS. Ds. JEREMY BELKNAP. OLD DOVER, NEW HAMPSHIRE. waiting his opportunity. Kan- kamaugus, sachem of the Pen- nacooks, himself sullenly hos- tile to the whites, fanned the desire in the neighboring In- dians for revenge. The oppor- tunity came as it always does to The patient search and vigil long Of him who treasures up a wrong. On the outbreak of King Philips war, in 1675, the Mas- sachusetts government at once prepared for general defence. The care of these Pascataqua towns was confided to Waldron, who was appointed commander of the militia with the rank of Major. He was powerless, however, to bring the HOME OF JOHN P. HALE. force at his command into any effec- tive warfare, and could only defend as best he could, the places most seri- ously threatened. In the early part of September, in the outlying districts of the town, grain was destroyed, houses were burnt, ~men were killed. By the last of the month the whole country was aroused. The 7th of October was observed as a day of fasting and prayer. On the i6th Roger Plaisted of Sal- mon Falls wrote to Major Waldron and Lieutenant Coffin at Dover, beg- ging for military aid; and let them that cannot fight, pray, he added to the appeal. But neither fighting nor prayer availed for poor Plaisted. He I0I was killed by the Indians the very day he wrote the letter. This border warfare continued throughout the fall, but the severity of winter bore hard on the improvident red men, and by spring they were suing for peace and begging for aid from Major Waldron. A treaty was concluded in July; but the death of Philip the following Aug- ust caused many of the Southern Indians to make their way north, and as these refugees incited the tribes to renewed hostilities danger was again imminent. At this crisis came orders from the government to Major Waldron to seize all southern Indians wherever they might be found. The Major with reluctance obeyed the order. The Indians were invited to a sham fight, were surrounded, captured without bloodshed, and the south- ern Indians, about two hundred in number, sent to Boston. Of these, Boston hanged five or six and sold the others into slavery. For this act Dover paid, thirteen years later, a terrible price. The In- dians had regarded themselves safe under 1\lajor Waldron. They could not understand why military orders from Massachusetts should invade the peace of Pascataqua. Some of those who were sold into slavery escaped and, intent on revenge, made their way back to these regions. Here was the opportunity desired by the hostile sachems. A descent upon Cocheco was determined upon. It was a pleas- ON LOCUST STREET. 102 OLD DOVER, NEW HAMPSHIRE. ant June night in 1689. The settlers and their families had as usual retired for the night to the garrison-houses. There had been flying reports for days that all was not right with the Indians, and friendly braves had given vague warnings. Yet the settlers paid little attention, and by neither friend nor foe could old Major Waldron be stirred. Mesandowit, a guest at his table, said to him the day before the treachery: Brother Walderne, what would you do if the strange Indians should come? I could assemble a hundred men by lifting my finger, re- plied he, carelessly. To each of the five garrison-houses there came at nightfall two squaws asking for permission to rest there over night. At Waldrons, Heards, Otiss and the elder Coffins they were admitted and kindly treated, even being shown how to open the doors in case they should want to go out during the night. The younger Cof- fin alone declined them entrance. In the dead of the night these treacherous squaws opened the gates, and the In- dians waiting without rushed in. At Otiss and the elder Coffins they killed and captured the inmates and burned the houses. At Heards, Elder Went- worth, awakened by the barking of a dog, sprang to the door and held it till others were aroused, and so saved the garrison. At the younger Cof- fins, where the squaws had been re- fused admission, and where, therefore, the whites were in a position to defend themselves, the Indians danced outside the stockade, jeered and hooted from a safe distance until at last, with fiend- ish glee, they set the captured elder Coffin out before the eyes of the safely intrenched son and threatened terrible torture unless the gates of the garrison were opened. The younger man delayed only long enough to demand promises of safety for his people and threw open his doors. As the inmates filed out they were one by one made captive, but in the darkness and the struggle many made their escape. SOME OF DOVERS CHURCHES. OLD DOVER, NEW HAMPSHIRE. 103 At Waidrons the strife was hottest and the bloodshed most cruel. The Major, aroused from sleep, rushed out and, single-handed, drove back his enemies until, turning for his sword, he was struck on the back and stunned. Then the Indians mounted him on a chair set on a table in mock state and danced and shrieked de- risively, Who shall judge Indians now ? After feasting and drinking they each gave him a savage knife- thrust, saying, Thus I cross out my account. When his life at last ended, they burned his house. The early light of that June morning dawned on sad desolation and heart- breaking distress. Besides the gar- risons, five or six houses had been burned, wanton destruction of prop- erty was everywhere evident, and bodies of murdered victims, from chil- dren of a few weeks to gray-haired men, lay prostrate by the roadside. Twenty-three persons were killed and twenty-nine carried into captivity that terrible night; and the fate of the dead was thought less dreadful than that of the living. Desperate as was their condition the settlers set themselves at once with sturdy courage to repair their losses. Before noon of the next day the men had assembled and outlined their plans for rebuilding. Military aid was promised from Massachusetts, and, wasting no time in sorrow or repining, the brave little town pulled itself to- gether and again set a stern face to the foe. It was needed, for during nearly fifty years the place was never free from the danger of attack; yet itself growing stronger, expeditions were carried out into In- dian villages until the enemy had no permanent home this side of Canada. Dr. Quint says, In time, every man without exception save among the Friends became a trained soldier of the woods, a keen marksman, a tire- less ranger. Aman of forty-six had spent half his years in the field. They fought to defend their dwellings, their wives, their chil- dren. They succeeded; but in that fearful fifty years the suffering was great. They mourned for children seized from their agonized parents and, if not slain, reared by aliens in an alien faith. Dover blood was perpetu- ated in Canada in the descendants of these captives. Scarcely a family but had its history of inhuman torture or bloody deaths. When the end of In- dian wars came, it was fated that, as Dover had been the scene of the first slaughter, that of 1675, SO it was the scene of the last bloodshed, fifty years later. The Indian wars of Maine, New Hampshire and Canada began and ended in this parish. In that last bloodshed, two men were killed and one wounded, scalped and left for dead. This one was John Evans, brother of Joseph Evans, whose granddaughter, Abigail Hus- sey, born at Cochecho Point, was the mother of Whittier, the poet. Hence the lines in Snow-Bound: Our mother, while she turned her wheel, Or run the new-knit stocking heel, CENTRAL SQUARE. 104 OLD DOVER, NEW HAMPSHIRE. OLD DOVER, NEW HAMPSHIRE. 105 Told how the Indian hordes came down At midnight on Cocheco town, And how her own great-uncle bore His cruel scalp-mark to four-score. The journal of Rev. John Pike, min- ister at Dover, a man to whom Cot- ton Mather in his Magnalia says he was much beholden for furnishing material for that work, records of those days many notes which we, sit- ing quiet in safe homes, read with a sense of remoteness and unreality. May 7, 1696. John Church, sen., slain by the Indians as he traveled to seek his horse, upon a little hill be- twixt Cochecho and Tole-end. July 26, 1696. Being sacrament day. An ambush of Indians laid be- tween Capt. Goves field and Tobias Hansons orchard; shot upon the peo- ple returning from meeting. May 10, 1693. Tobias Hanson killed by the Indians as he traveled the path near the west corner of Thomas Downs field July i8, 1684. The Indians fell sud- denly and unexpectedly upon Oyster River about break of day, took the garrison (being deserted or not de- fended), killed and carried away 94 persons and burnt 13 houses. This journal is a record of casual- ties. We read: Jan. 3, Col. Wal- drons mills burnt down in a very Rainey night. Feb. 14, Mrs. Hannah Waldron died and was inhumed i6, which was the Revolution of her mar- riage-day. Dec. 23. Old sister Downs died with Illness, age and suffering. A serious combination surely. And we read the names of their maladies with a smile. One had Meazells; another was grievously afflicted with snuffles; peripneumonia, grip- pings, dry gripes, all found vic- tims. But our smile suddenly changes at the close of the next entry. The par- sons hand, dust now these many years, added here a touch which makes us know that human hearts, however sep- arated by miles of centuries, have ever been the same. My Dear son Samuel was born 1695, Ap. i betwixt two & 3 of the clock afternoon Monday. Lived seven years seven months, twenty-eight days. Died Nov 29 1702, Sab- morn- ing, after two daysRelapse into a fever his principal malady was sore throat and caput-dolor. The joy of my heart. After the cessa- tion of Indian war- fares the little town was long in recov- ering. Slowly in- dustries grew and trade habits were formed. The ground was tilled, saw-mills were run, lumber was cut. The road EXGOVERNOR CHARLES known to this day H. SAWYER. as the Mast road received its name from the masts that were cut as early as 1665 on the lands of Robert Mason and shipped home to THE SAWYER MILLS. io6 OLD DOVER, NEW HAMPSHIRE. His Majesty for use in the Royal Navy. This lumber business and agriculture became the chief source of revenue. Hardships lessened and the little town grew. Then came the Revolution. Historians tell us that in the hun- dred years preceding the Revolution emigration was stronger from this country to England than from Eng- land to us. This drifting homeward of many who preferred the settled English life to the conditions of a young country was a process naturally coc~~cno FALLS. tending to the evolution of an American pop- ulation that could think clearly, endure cheerfully, and protest vigor- ously. In this sifting process Dover had its share. Our settlers had been kindly and tolerant, but courage- ous. In 1675 they had sent a document home to His Majesty, beginning, We protest. Their sons were also, or perhaps therefore, men in whom pre- vailed a strong sense of justice and a sturdy respect for their own as well as others rights. Valiant service was done by the pulpit toward fitting men to take stands demanding purpose and steadfast courage. Dr. Jeremy Bel- knap, minister then of the old First Parish, stood up before his congrega tion and preached a sermon which he boldly named, On account of the Dif- ficulties of the King, and took for his text 1st Samuel, viii., i8: And ye shall cry out in that day because of your king which ye shall have chosen you; and the Lord will not hear you in that day.~~ The seed fell on good ground. The town records show that, November 7, 1774, a town meeting was called to see if the inhabitants would raise any- thing in Money, Fat Cattle or Sheep, for the relief of the poor in Boston, then suffering from the operations of the Port Bill; and it was voted that the town would give something. At the rumors of impending strife the town made ready to spring to arms. When the news of the Concord fight came, men gathered here from twenty miles around prepared to act. Com- panies were raised, drilled and promptly marched away. There were then, in the six towns which made up ancient Dover, I ,070 men, including the aged, the sick and the sailors at sea. By early autumn one-seventh of the whole number were under arms in the field. This alacrity prevailed throughout the state. Less than a AFTER THE FLOOD. OLD DOVER, NEW HAMPSHIRE. 107 month after the news of the first blood- shed, New Hampshire held at Exeter a convention of the So ~s of Liberty and voted to raise two thonsand men and accept those who had already hnr- ned to the front, Three regiments were raised. Starks and Reids regiments and one company of the Second fonght at Bnnker Hill. Another company of the Second made a forced march of sixty-two miles, arriving in Chelsea the morning of the battle. They conld not cross the river on acconnt of the enemy, so went ronnd by Medford. Belknap, the scholar, the historian, the minister, and also the stannch and fearless patriot, was retnrning to Dover from Portsmonth when the news of the Concord fight reached him. He wheeled his horse and made straight for Boston. He wrote to his wife from the Point that he fonnd it absolntely necessary that I shonid proceed immediately to Boston, if it is not in ashes before I get there. I shall try and get a chaise at Green- land. As necessity has no law, the people mnst excnse my absence next Sabbath if I shonld not retnrn before it. The people probably had occa- sion to excnse it, for on Snnday Bel- knap was preaching on the streets of Cambridge to the Provincial army. He soon retnrned to Dover to speed with stirring words the departnre of Dover soldiers for the war. The brave parson mnst have had a heart in sym- pathy with them as they marched away. He him- self knew how to shonlder a rifle. Dont let my gnn and mnnition get ont of the honse if yon can help it, he had written his wife from Cambridge. All throngh the varying fortnnes of the war he conn- selled conrage and persistence, and when the end came welcomed the resnlt with fervent gratitnde and righteons exnltation. Dr. Qnint says: It is a matter of known tradition that Dr. Belknap, when news arrived of the Declaration of Independence, went to the one town school at Pine Hill, then kept by Master Wigglesworth, annonnced that America was now a nation; and himself and the master at the head, stopping to take np a drnm- mer by the way, the whole school marched throngh town as far as the Col. John Walderne mansion, and re- tnrned. At the schoolhonse Dr. Bel- knap offered prayer, and a holiday was then given. When the war was over and New Hampshire ratified the Constitntion, the town celebrated the event by pnb- lic rejoicing and a grand procession. An old Salem newspaper thns ends its somewhat flowery acconnt of the event: After passing the town, animated by the approving smiles of the ladies present, a semi-circle was formed near the meeting-honse, where Nine Can- non were again discharged, and nine toasts were pnblickly given. After repeated cheers and expressions of nn- affected joy, the Company received an invitation to the Hall-Chamber where nine flowing bowls, and fonr empty ones stood prepared for their recep- tion, and Nine social songs were snng, which closed the evening in harmony. COCHECO MILLS. io8 OLD DOVER, NEf HAMPSHIRE. New Hampshire was the ninth state to enter the Union. The nine flowing bowls and the fonr empty ones re- spectively represented the states which had and which had not ratified the Constitution. Dnring these years of struggle most of the slaves owned here had been emancipated. There had not been many. A censns taken in 1775 gives, in the total population of i666, 26 who were negroes and slaves for life. Thomas Westbrook Walderne in his will, dated 1779, beqneathed to his heirs his negro Dinah and her two children, Chloe and Plato. This re- tention was, however, merely nominal, and slavery as an institntion was ex- tinguished on the adoption of the State Constitntion. A second time the town was slow to recover from the depression conse- quent on war. Yet it must have been a pleasant place to live in. Its houses were comfortable and good looking, bnt not especially pretentions. Gar- dens with sweet old-fashioned flowers stretched back from the street, and tall elm trees shaded the road. Besides things good to look at they had things good to think of. Books were to be had. A social library was in exist- ence before the Revolution and was chartered by the State Legislature in 1792, the only year the Legislature ever convened at Dover. The books belonging to this library were bound uniformly in leather and kept at some central store. There is now in the possession of one of our citizens a little, yellow, time-stained document, entitled: Catalogue of Books belonging to the Social Libery in Dover. It is a written list of 199 volumes, classified, three of its groups be- ing as follows: Divin- ity, 40; Moral and Phil- osophical, 29; Enter- tainment, i7; from which it will be seen that the reading was forced to be of an eminently solid character. The list pro- vided for frivolous minds runs as follows: Devil on Crutches, 2 vols.; Terra Fillis, or the Secret History of the University of Oxford, 2 vols.; Fieldings Tom Jones, 4 vols.; Goldsmiths Vicar of Wake- field; Boyles Voyage; Sternes Works, 5 vols.; Plays and Skates Ballads, 2 vols.; total, 17. The novel reader of to- day, who expects to find, and finds, all the best fiction of the day in the Public Library about as soon as it is published, should drop a tear for the privations of those seeking entertainment in this lugu- brious list. The town had good schools too, to which the reluctant feet of children were started at the goodly hour of THE CITY BUILDING. OLD DOVER, NEW HAMPSHIRE. 109 eight, and where they remained, with the exception of the noon honr, nntil five at night. Bnsiness centered aronnd the Landing, whence the Bos- ton packets sailed, laden with lnmber, and to which they retnrned bringing mm and other necessaries of life. In 1812 the bnsiness men of the town fonnd their mercantile interests embarrassed by the Embargo and the Second War with England. The Dover Cotton Factory was therefore incorporated, with a capital of $~o,ooo. The first mill was bnilt abont two miles np the river, for it was snpposed these lower falls were fnlly occnpied with saw and grist mills. Nine years later the corporation obtained possession of this property, so long in the hands of the Waldron family, and bnilt the mill now known as Nnmber Two. The capital was twice enlarged and the name changed to the Dove r Mannfactnring Company. Bnt its af- fairs were not prosper- ons, and in Jnne, 1827, a new company, the pres- ent one, the Cocheco Mannfactnring Com- pany, was incorporated, with a capital of $1,500,- 000. By an error of the en- grossing clerk in the act of incorporation, the old Indian name, Cochecho, became Co- checo. In the decade follow- ing the establishment of these mills the nnmber of the popn- lation and the taxable prop- erty both abont donbled. New streets were laid ont, new honses bnilt, the Strafford Bank was chartered, an aque- dnct company incorporated, and five or six religions soci- eties were organized. In addition to these mills, which cluster aronnd the falls of the Cochecho, there are a large belt factory and several shoeshops in this part of the city. In the sonthern part of the town, the Bellamy river af- fords other excellent water power, which is utilized by the Sawyer Wool- en Mills. This water privilege on the Bellamy, like that at Cochecho, was once owned by Major Waidron, who gave it as a marriage portion to his two danghters, both of whom married Gerrishes. In 1824 Alfred I. Sawyer began here the bnsiness of cloth dressing. From this grew the present large woolen in- dnstry of the city, the managers being second and third generations from the original owner. To the name of Saw- yer the city of Dover owes a large ON THE ROAD TO THE POINT. THE COURT HOUSE. hO OLD DOVER, NEW HAMPSHIRE. debt. Honor and high standards bring forth results less tangible possibly, bnt certainly not less real than those of a large pay-roll. Perhaps the most memorable night in onr history after that of the mas- sacre was March i, 1896, the night of the flood. It had been raining for sev- eral days, not furionsly, bnt rather steadily. The ice was breaking np, too; patches of the upper river were open and big blocks of ice came float- ing down with the cnrrent. The ground was frozen and the surface drainage ponred down into the river for miles back in the conntry. It was this combination of canses rather than any one of them that bronght abont the flood. The river rose a little all day Satnrday, and rapidly Satnrday night. Sunday forenoon it reached and passed the highest point it had ever made on the mill-gauge. By afternoon half the people of the town were out under umbrellas to see the sight. Everybody expected the Fourth street bridge to go. It was an old wooden thing, many times repaired, and not thought at its best to be very strong. The ice piled up above it and around it and upon it; yet through it all the bridge stood. A half mile further up the iron bridge over Whittier s Falls snapped away from its piers and went bodily down stream. The lower Washing- ton Street bridge went out like wicker work. About the mid- dle of Sunday afternoon, un- easiness began MR. ARIOCH WENTWORTH. to be felt con- cerning the bridge over which is car- ried on most of the traffic of the city, the Central Avenue bridge, and the ity Marshall gave the order to clear it. The order had not been fully obeyed before there was a tremendous thump from a submerged ice-cake, a crash of splitting timbers, and the middle of the bridge slumped. The slump threw timbers up against the doors and win- dows of the southerly end of the Bracewell block, making entrance to these stores difficult and dangerous. But from the others owners at once began to remove goods. Merchants fur- ther along the avenue opened their stores for the relief of their neighbors, a file of will- ing helpers was quickly formed, and the work of removal began. Back and forth under a long overhead arch of umbrellas held by bystanders hurried the quickly extemporized relief corps. Phe scene would have been ludicrous, for some of the helpers were LOCUST 5TREET AND CENTRAL AVENUE. OLD DOVER, NEW HAMPSHIRE. bunglers, letting long, delicate, white fabrics trail in the mud of the street, while others carried proudly aloft a single hat-box,--had there not been so many elements of the tragic. The gath- ering darkness, the falling rain, the rushing river, the quivering bridge, the booming ice blocks, all these in- tensified the consciousness of impend- ing calamity. At seven the river was still steadily rising. At eight the rise was less rapid, but the water was more turbulent. Half an hour later came a big boom- ing crash, followed by the splitting of timbers, and the little store adjoin- ing the southern end of the Brace- well block went down stream like a bundle of jack- straws. In a few minutes more there was a bigger boom, a furious crash, a tottering of walls, a collapse, and the whole southern end of the l3racewell block and half the bridge went out. A hoarse cry went up from the crowd as a new element of danger became apparent. The electric light pole with its burden of wires swayed and reeled and finally broke and fell, snapping its living wires in every di- rection and tossing the arc light like a ball of fire down into the running water. For an instant the trolley wire which had been broken by the falling pole lit up the whole sky with a spit- ting, fiendish flame, running like light- ning both ways from the break. Then the current was cut off and the whole III place left to the blackness of absolute darkness. About midnight the fire alarm sounded. The flood had set fire to the barrels of lime on the river bank and the lumber yard of Converse & Hammond was all ablaze. For the rest of the night the fire department fought fire and the police and night watchmen guarded ruined buildings and watched the river. When morning came it was found that eight bridges within the city limits had been swept away. Private losses were also large. Four stores with all their stock had gone down the river, and the loss by fire had been great. Many are the tales told of that flood. Outside of the town, just beyond the long Eliot bridge, the old toll-keeper of the bridge lay in his home very ill. To his ears there came the sound of a low, booming crash. He turned enquiring eyes toward the daughter sitting by his bedside. It must be the bridge going out, she answered. The old man turned away. It was his last knowledge of earth. Dover does not begin to make the most of itself. A Western town with half its historic wealth would make it- self heard all over the land and pil- grimages would be made to it from far and near. With us not a spot is la- beled, not a site marked. We do not even sustain a historical society. There is an organization named the Dover Historical Society, under the auspices of which a valuable reprint of some of OFTEN SEEN ON THE STREET. 112 OLD DOVER, NEW HAMPSHIRE. the early records has been made. But we hold no meetings, and at the last annual meeting there were present only a vice-president and the member at whose rooms the meeting was called. The Daughters of the Ameri- can Revolution do better, but in smaller places in the country there are more energetic chapters than is the Margery Sullivan chapter here. Still it is pleasant to have ancestors and an- niversaries and sites even if we do not use them much. Nor do clubs flourish here. The one club for men, the Bellamy Club, is a purely social one,delightful, men say,where in well-appointed rooms members meet and smoke and do not gossip,just talk things over. There are one or two smaller clubs, but the usual literary organization is lacking, and the town has not a Shakespeare club to its name. Once a year everybody goes to the May break- fast, an annual institution which each year puts four or five hundred dol- lars into the treasury of the Chil- drens Home, the one charity upon which the whole town unites, Yet not quite the whole town either; the Ro- man Catholics support a home of their own in which children of their own faith are carefully reared. This divi- sion of forces is perhaps not to be re- gretted, since concord is often most real when differences of opinion are openly recognized and mutually re- spected. There is, however, one insti- tution sorely needed, for which the whole city should with reason unite a hospital, to which entrance and sup- port should be conditioned not, on the basis of creed or church, but on the common ground of human pain. The Home for Aged People, for which a fund was started years ago, has now become a possibility by reason of a re- cent gift of $io,ooo from a former resi- dent of Dover now living in Boston, Mr. Arioch Wentworth, Easy-going as the place is, it is a nice old town. If it does not make the most of itself, neither does it worry CENTRAL AVENUE AND FRANKLIN SQUARE. OLD DOVER, NEW HAMPSHIRE. about trifles. It looks calmly on while its neighbor down the Pascataqua puts on more pretentious styles of living, and does not greatly bestir itself when an ambitious young city further up the Cochecho tries to lay violent hands on its court house and thereby become the county seat. But our people read as many books from their public library as these two cities combined, and with a cheerful indifference to fashion are united in a closeness of friendship that comes not only from sharing our neighbors rejoicing, but even more from sorrowing in his griefs. The life of the town is two-fold. There is the old life,with ancestors in the past, a comfortable income for the present, and a provident outlook for the future; and there is the new life,floating down from Canada, with many brothers and sisters, enough money to buy a gay gown, and no special thought for the future. In comparison with this Cana- dian element, the Irish portion of the population are old citizens,first settlers, as it were. The problem of this intermixture is a serious one for this and many another New England town, for before the new life the old retreats as surely as did the aboriginal from the early emigrant. In all the country round, there is no lovelier view than that from our Gar- rison Hill, which rises in the northern part of the city. From the observa- tory here may be seen the ocean, the Shoals, the spires of Portsmouth, the hills of Deerfield, Strafford, Notting- ham, Blue Job at Farmington, and in a clear day the outlines of the White Mountains. Directly below lies the city, almost lost in shade trees. Coming down the hill, one passes just at the foot the oldest house in town, the Ham house, formerly the Varney house, built as early as 1696, when there were not men enough in the city to raise the frame, and help had to be summoned from Portsmouth. Just opposite is the site of the old Heard garrison, the only house saved in the massacre of 1689. A little to the north lie the 3 open fields where camped the soldiers before they marched away to the Revolution. Coming down toward the city, one passes neax Milk Street the site of the Otis garrison, whence was carried into captivity little Chris- tine Otis, then but three months old, but who, reared by the nuns of Mon- treal, lived to refuse to take the veil and to marry a soldier and return to Dover, where under stress of adversity she kept for many years a tavern, on the contry Rhoade from Dover Meet- ing House to Cochecho Boome. A little further on stood in Revolu- tionary times the mansion of Thomas Westbrook Waldrone, the soldier of Louisburg. At Franklin Square two streets diverge, one of which, Main Street, was formerly the main business thoroughfare, leading down to the Landing, but the other of which, Cen- tral Avenue, is now the trade centre. On the right of the avenue, just back of where the National Block now stands, stood two centuries ago the Waldron garrison, and where now tower big brick factories were then only grist and sawmills. Just after crossing the river, the road went up over a little rise of ground now cut entirely away, and on this knoll, just back of the present Varneys Block, the Coffin garrison was sacked and burned. Here now to the right, up past the big belt factory,turns Orchard Street, its name being the only re- minder that Tristram Coffins orchard once extended down there. The next street is Washington Street, once a gully down which Coffins brook wandered. From the open square one looks toward the Landing again, and tries a little to think how it looked when stores and business offices filled the places that mills and crowded tene- ment houses now occupy, or picture it in even earlier days when trees grew to the rivers edge and salmon and ale- wives swarmed in the water. There was an early law that the first salmon~ that came up the river should be given to the minister. Hungry indeed would the man in these days be who~ 114 OLD DOVER, NEW HAMPSHIRE.. waited for salmon caught down at the Landing. From Central Square, past the Masonic Block, where the old City Hall, twice burned, stood, past the Bel- knap Church, named for Jeremy Bel- knap, the historian of New Hamp- shire, now one of the honored dead in the old Granary burying ground, Bos- ton, the street goes on, curving like a country road, past the ancient resi- dence of John Wentworth, now perched up on stores built out under- neath, giving it the appearance of a crown on a four-cornered hat, to the present City Building, big, ambi- tions, comprehensive, over which with 1)ride we shoxv our country cousins. On this spot stood until within a few years the old St. Thomas Church and the Dr. Low mansion, under the roof of which Lafayette once spent the night. The hill that slopes off sharply (lown to the left, Swazeys Hill, is sometimes still called Gallows Hill, be- cause a century ago here was hanged a negro murderer. The gallows was at the foot of the hill in order that in- terested spectators might stand above and look down upon the death agony. Still following the curving avenue, we come to the old Dover Hotel, now a tenement house, once a flourishing hostelry, known as Peggy Gages Inn. Next is a carriage shop, whose (lignified architecture recalls the fact that it was once Bellevue Hall, where Dovers youth danced happy hours away. On the corner of Court Street stands the old court house, built in 1791. It is safe to say that not one person in fifty could point it out, yet within its walls Jeremiah Mason and Daniel Webster have often spoken. Opposite is the convent, on the ver- andah of which Sisters of Mercy some- times pace for exercise. Years ago this too was a hotel, the famous New Hampshire House, in front of which stages noisily drew up, and in which Abraham Lincoln was entertained. Then comes the Corner, a simple junction of two streets, with a peaceful- looking old store on one side and an ancient church hard by. Yet the name is as distinctive as that of a High- land clan. The Corner boys, the Corner girls, these and the dwell- ers on the other side of the river, oil and water are quite as unitable. This is a mistifving matter to the un- ~vary new-corner to the city, who looks forxvard to making friends xvithout re- gard to the river. He at first laughs at the delusion, then ruefully accepts it, and usually ends by choosing his side and vigorously adopting its prin- ciples. From the corner on are pleasant homes under arching trees. A few steps along on the right is the old home of John P. Hale, United States Senator and Minister to Spain, a man who, in the early days of the slavery struggle Dared to be In the right with two or three If we follow the road along past the school house and Pine Hill Ceme- tery away out of town, it will take us doxvn several miles to the site of the first settlers and the little Meeting- House. Standing there on the spot where, it is recorded, the pioneers ex- pected to build a compact city, one is tempted to ask, as perhaps they too coming from their homes in England asked: What, then, endures? Surely not buildings framed by mens hands, nor individual plans. nor the purpose of a few. For around us stretch open fields, and at our feet the very earth- marks ihat outlined the site of that ancient church are almost obliterated. Over the ground is a low tangle of five- finger and blackberry. Along the gi ass-covered ridge which outlines the length of the side, sumachs flourish. In the depression of the rifle-pit is a spreading juniper bush. Over the giound which once an armed sentinel paced, a slender slip of an elm lean- ing against the fence is now the only guard; and where amid peril once fer- vently ascended the Psalms of David, now peacefully rises the sweet hymn of the song sparrow. Yet lifting our eves, we look abroad POPULAR EDUCATION IN NEW ENGLAND. upon just what our fathers saw. To the north and west the distant hills; to the east, wooded slopes; directly be- fore us, beautiful contours of river, bay and islands with curving shores. Above us now as then the white clouds float in blue ether; and twice a day, to-day as for many years, the tide ebbs and flows in all these waters. 5 But not only the forces of Nature en- dure. Behind us lies the compact city that our fathers thought to build, not where they planned, nor as they expected, but in a place better suited for itself and in a way which its own interests have developed. The wel- fare of the whole, . this is evidently the abiding principle. POPULAR EDUCATION IN RURAL NEW ENGLAND. By JkVilZia,n Cr~ins/c,u La7o/on. ERHAPS there is no feature of life in New England before the war so often men- tioned regretfully as the old Lyceum. Doubtless it varied I greatly as. to character and importance, in different cities; and to many remoter village communities it can have been little more than a name. Still, nearly all thoughtful men or women of Yankee stock, now in middle life or beyond, apparently look back with gratitude upon those winter lecture courses; and many of us ac- count them the chief of the formative, or at least of the stimulative, influences vhich roused the youthful soul and fixed its desires on higher things than our daily environment knew. The most striking memorial of such Attic nights is doubtless the essay of Mr. Lowell, in which he de- scribes the effect upon him, as a boy in college, of Emerson, the lecturer. Lowell remarks in his opening sen- tence upon the singular fact that Mr. Emerson is the most steadily attrac- tive lecturer in America. This was written in i868, and Mr. Lowell has presently occasion to mention also the adventurers of the sensational kind,~~ the spread-eagle style of more florid and shallower oratory, which were destined to capture and finally to wreck the stanch and simple platform of earlier decades. There is not the least intention here, however, of striking a pessimistic tone. An eminent critic of Univer- sity Extension referred a few years ago to its decayed predecessor, the old Lyceum system. But age and decay may be as happy and natural, after a long life of successful effort, for an institution as for a man. It is no easy matter, even with the aid of boy- ish memories, to recall aright the spirit of a time when, for example, the At- lantic Monthly was founded not primarily as a receptacle for belles let- tres, but to supply an adequate organ for the anti-slavery agitation! The especial popularity of Mr. Emerson as a lecturer was partially local. In one remoter corner of New England, at least, Curtis, Phillips, Garrison, Beecher, Whipple and Chapin were quite as prominent as he. But it will instantly come to each readers mind that these are the names of reformers. Educational, indeed, the old lecture system was; but it flourished in a time of strenuous up- heaval, and was supported by, and strengthened in turn, the influence of the boldest, the most outspoken

POPULAR EDUCATION IN NEW ENGLAND. upon just what our fathers saw. To the north and west the distant hills; to the east, wooded slopes; directly be- fore us, beautiful contours of river, bay and islands with curving shores. Above us now as then the white clouds float in blue ether; and twice a day, to-day as for many years, the tide ebbs and flows in all these waters. 5 But not only the forces of Nature en- dure. Behind us lies the compact city that our fathers thought to build, not where they planned, nor as they expected, but in a place better suited for itself and in a way which its own interests have developed. The wel- fare of the whole, . this is evidently the abiding principle. POPULAR EDUCATION IN RURAL NEW ENGLAND. By JkVilZia,n Cr~ins/c,u La7o/on. ERHAPS there is no feature of life in New England before the war so often men- tioned regretfully as the old Lyceum. Doubtless it varied I greatly as. to character and importance, in different cities; and to many remoter village communities it can have been little more than a name. Still, nearly all thoughtful men or women of Yankee stock, now in middle life or beyond, apparently look back with gratitude upon those winter lecture courses; and many of us ac- count them the chief of the formative, or at least of the stimulative, influences vhich roused the youthful soul and fixed its desires on higher things than our daily environment knew. The most striking memorial of such Attic nights is doubtless the essay of Mr. Lowell, in which he de- scribes the effect upon him, as a boy in college, of Emerson, the lecturer. Lowell remarks in his opening sen- tence upon the singular fact that Mr. Emerson is the most steadily attrac- tive lecturer in America. This was written in i868, and Mr. Lowell has presently occasion to mention also the adventurers of the sensational kind,~~ the spread-eagle style of more florid and shallower oratory, which were destined to capture and finally to wreck the stanch and simple platform of earlier decades. There is not the least intention here, however, of striking a pessimistic tone. An eminent critic of Univer- sity Extension referred a few years ago to its decayed predecessor, the old Lyceum system. But age and decay may be as happy and natural, after a long life of successful effort, for an institution as for a man. It is no easy matter, even with the aid of boy- ish memories, to recall aright the spirit of a time when, for example, the At- lantic Monthly was founded not primarily as a receptacle for belles let- tres, but to supply an adequate organ for the anti-slavery agitation! The especial popularity of Mr. Emerson as a lecturer was partially local. In one remoter corner of New England, at least, Curtis, Phillips, Garrison, Beecher, Whipple and Chapin were quite as prominent as he. But it will instantly come to each readers mind that these are the names of reformers. Educational, indeed, the old lecture system was; but it flourished in a time of strenuous up- heaval, and was supported by, and strengthened in turn, the influence of the boldest, the most outspoken POPULAR EDUCATION IN NEW ENGLAND. upon just what our fathers saw. To the north and west the distant hills; to the east, wooded slopes; directly be- fore us, beautiful contours of river, bay and islands with curving shores. Above us now as then the white clouds float in blue ether; and twice a day, to-day as for many years, the tide ebbs and flows in all these waters. 5 But not only the forces of Nature en- dure. Behind us lies the compact city that our fathers thought to build, not where they planned, nor as they expected, but in a place better suited for itself and in a way which its own interests have developed. The wel- fare of the whole, . this is evidently the abiding principle. POPULAR EDUCATION IN RURAL NEW ENGLAND. By William Cranston Law/on. ERHAPS there is no feature of life in New England before the war so often men- tioned regretfully as the old Lyceum. Doubtless it varied greatly as. to character and importance, in different cities; and to many remoter village communities it can have been little more than a name. Still, nearly all thoughtful men or women of Yankee stock, now in middle life or beyond, apparently look back with gratitude upon those winter lecture courses; and many of us ac- count them the chief of the formative, or at least of the stimulative, influences which roused the youthful soul and fixed its desires on higher things than our daily environment knew. The most striking memorial of such Attic nights is doubtless the essay of Mr. Lowell, in which he de- scribes the effect upon him, as a boy in college, of Emerson, the lecturer.~ Lowell remarks in his opening sen- tence upon the singular fact that Mr. Emerson is the most steadily attrac- tive lecturer in America. This was written in i868, and Mr. Lowell has presently occasion to mention also the adventurers of the sensational kind, the spread-eagle style of more florid and shallower oratory, which were destined to capture and finally to wreck the stanch and simple platform of earlier decades. There is not the least intention here, however, of striking a pessimistic tone. An eminent critic of Univer- sity Extension referred a few years ago to its decayed predecessor, the old Lyceum system. But age and decay may be as happy and natural, after a long life of successful effort, for an institution as for a man. It is no easy matter, even with the aid of boy- ish memories, to recall aright the spirit of a time when, for example, the At- lantic Monthly was founded not primarily as a receptacle for belles let- tres, but to supply an adequate organ for the anti-slavery agitation! The especial popularity of Mr. Emerson as a lecturer was partially local. In one remoter corner of New England, at least, Curtis, Phillips, Garrison, Beecher, Whipple and Chapin were quite as prominent as he. But it will instantly come to each readers mind that these are the names of reformers. Educational, indeed, the old lecture system was; but it flourished in a time of strenuous up- heaval, and was supported by, and strengthened in turn, the influence of the boldest, the most outspoken POPULAR EDUCATION IN NEW ENGLAND. lar education. The present writer holds no brief (at least here and now) for the transplanted English organiza- tion known as University Extension. The American conditions are unique, and must work out their own solu- tion. Elements considered most vital in the English work have failed alto- gether to take firm root anywhere in America. Some of the stanchest friends of the movement are ready to sacrifice the very name, letting the familiar initials remain, perhaps, upon a banner with the larger device, Uni- versal Education. The imperative duty is not to be shirked or postponed by caviling over names or methods. Life in a poor tenement or lodging- house of the great city is bare and de- basing enough; but better things are usually within reach. Art, music, lit- erature, in some form, however inade- quate or unavailable, can hardly be far away. The darkness is too often in the soul itself. Life in a village, for those of small means, is almost inevitably bare and colorless. It would probably surprise and shock a cultivated Bostonian if he should go no farther away,forinstance, than Concord, and ask, even in a vil- lage so renowned for its culture, just what intellectual or artistic resources, just what food for the imagination, it can offer in the course of a winter to the younger and more impressible portion of its poorer men and women. A hundred miles north or west, and the case is much worse. The lack, the dearth, is really deadly. The very fact that it is not adequately felt by those village communities themselves is but additional evidence of the need. There are, however, in many places cravings for better things than they have known. Here, as in so many other directions, much is to be hoped from the united action of good women, seeking what is best for themselves and for their sons. Boston, which has drained the best young blood from a thousand such communities, should send back to them out of its abund- ance good books, good music, and 7 perhaps most of all, good lectures by earnest, competent, sympathetic, liv- ing men. Several scholars have of late ven- tured forth from their laboratories to uphold the doctrine that the lecture system itself is doomed, has had its day. Now, there is only one essential feature in that system. It insists that the bodily presence, the living eye, the vibrating tone of the man who knows, who has seen, who has dared, thrills the soul, inspires the ambitious young heart, as the dead letter, the printed page, rarely can do. If any sane human being questions this we appeal to his own heart and memory. Did he ever have a parent, a teacher, a friend? The principle that the richer city communities must aid in bearing the educational burdens of the villages is now firmly established. It is alre~idy in operation in the sphere of free pub- lic education, and at this moment a notable extension is proposed in the creation of supervisors of schools to be supported from the state treasury. Though all forms of education have been beneficent charities rather than financially profitable investments, still the movement we here advocate need hardly take at the beginning a benevo- lent form at all. There are many such village communities that ask for little more than expert aid in selecting and engaging the best material for their needs. A few men of means, and a few scholars, in Boston and Cambridge, could easily arrange to collect and publish all announcements for sin- gle lectures and courses offered by college professors and head masters of schools in the state, or in New Eng- land, with rates of fees, area to be reached, etc. Eventually the printing of syllabuses, the definite organization of sustained courses, even the estab- lishment of a corps of salaried staff lecturers, might naturally follow. A mere charity such a movement should never become. We only appreciate adequately the things for which we make some sacrifice in effort or ii8 A CONTRAST. money. But we do believe the time should come when forty people in any corner of New England may secure, for a dollar apiece, a lecture course worth two hundred dollars to those who can pay it. What sort of lectures do you pro- pose? is a natural question. It is one to which each locality must at first give, for the most part, its own an- swer. The present writer has no quarrel with the element of amuse- ment, though ignorance and buffoon- ery are not permanently enjoyable and certainly can demand no subsidy. All modern appliances like the stere- cpticon, and the cinematograph, also, if that is not already antiquated by newer inventions, should cer- tainly be used largely from the first. For instruction in political economy, sociology and kindred subjects there is a large and growing desire, but a still more crying need. Perhaps his- tory and literature will always remain the most available subjects for general audiences. Yet a man of genius can treat even a highly specialized scien- tific investigation in such a way as to delight and educate any body of hearers. The writers experience in Exten sion work inclines him to emphasize the importance of sustained and cor- related courses, rather than miscella- neous programmes. But even this question has two sides. The vital mo- ment in the education of a young man or woman is the instant when within the heart there is aroused a divine discontent, with a determination to grow, to widen the horizon, to open the eyes. A single xving~d word from earnest lips will often accomplish this. Each wise man or woman, any one who out of rich experience or mature study brings the best he can to eager listeners, may hope thus to reach some congenial but undeveloped soul, may strike just the chord required to waken the slumbering divinity within. Providence, time, the flexible condi- tions of our migratory, unrooted social life, will generally do the rest. A xvhole winter of weekly lectures would hardly begin to educate a young man or woman in any single science, language or department of knowledge. The wisest specialist does but reach the frontier land of darkness and un- certainty. Nothing is finished here. We advocate the popular lecture course, then, not as a finishing school, but as a beginning school. A CONTRAST. by Sam [Va//er Foss. THE prairies flaunt with grain on every hand; The cornfields emerald banners proudly flare Like flags of triumph on the summer air; The orchards in their fruited fulness stand Lach breeze with harvest promises is bland; The lushness of a million meadows fair Exhales its odorous blessing everywhere, And careless plenty lolls through all the land. But strong men starve and dying infants draw From breasts of dying mothers, whose wan looks, Pain-disciplined, meet deaths without a fear, To hungers eye death loses all his awe. And here, ye deep-browed writers of long books, Look ye! theres stuff for many a folio here.

ii8 A CONTRAST. money. But we do believe the time should come when forty people in any corner of New England may secure, for a dollar apiece, a lecture course worth two hundred dollars to those who can pay it. What sort of lectures do you pro- pose? is a natural question. It is one to which each locality must at first give, for the most part, its own an- swer. The present writer has no quarrel with the element of amuse- ment, though ignorance and buffoon- ery are not permanently enjoyable and certainly can demand no subsidy. All modern appliances like the stere- cpticon, and the cinematograph, also, if that is not already antiquated by newer inventions, should cer- tainly be used largely from the first. For instruction in political economy, sociology and kindred subjects there is a large and growing desire, but a still more crying need. Perhaps his- tory and literature will always remain the most available subjects for general audiences. Yet a man of genius can treat even a highly specialized scien- tific investigation in such a way as to delight and educate any body of hearers. The writers experience in Exten sion work inclines him to emphasize the importance of sustained and cor- related courses, rather than miscella- neous programmes. But even this question has two sides. The vital mo- ment in the education of a young man or woman is the instant when within the heart there is aroused a divine discontent, with a determination to grow, to widen the horizon, to open the eyes. A single xving~d word from earnest lips will often accomplish this. Each wise man or woman, any one who out of rich experience or mature study brings the best he can to eager listeners, may hope thus to reach some congenial but undeveloped soul, may strike just the chord required to waken the slumbering divinity within. Providence, time, the flexible condi- tions of our migratory, unrooted social life, will generally do the rest. A xvhole winter of weekly lectures would hardly begin to educate a young man or woman in any single science, language or department of knowledge. The wisest specialist does but reach the frontier land of darkness and un- certainty. Nothing is finished here. We advocate the popular lecture course, then, not as a finishing school, but as a beginning school. A CONTRAST. by Sam [Va//er Foss. THE prairies flaunt with grain on every hand; The cornfields emerald banners proudly flare Like flags of triumph on the summer air; The orchards in their fruited fulness stand Lach breeze with harvest promises is bland; The lushness of a million meadows fair Exhales its odorous blessing everywhere, And careless plenty lolls through all the land. But strong men starve and dying infants draw From breasts of dying mothers, whose wan looks, Pain-disciplined, meet deaths without a fear, To hungers eye death loses all his awe. And here, ye deep-browed writers of long books, Look ye! theres stuff for many a folio here. EDITORS TAI3LE. HE agitation throughout the country over the recent action of the cor- poration of Brown Uni- versity, requesting Presi- dent Andrews to suppress public expression of his views upon the leading issue in our national politics, lest lie offend some of the rich friends of the university, has been something noteworthy; and it has been of a character so whole- some and inspiring, so indicative of the manliness and love of free inquiry of our scholars and the sound common sense of our people, that we are tempted to pronounce the whole epi- sode something to be grateful for, rather than to be deprecated. The condemnation of the position of the trustees and the warm approbatioii of President Andrews firm and simple letter of resignation which followed immediately the formulation of the criticism by the committee have found overwhelming and almost uniform ex- pression from the scholars of the coun- try, from the important newspapers, both religious and political, and from the various organs of public opinion; and the one or two weak apologies which have come from certain of the trtistees have been without effect, in no way excusing their action nor con- fusing the public. The issue was a very simple one; the attack was upoii the principle most sacred and funda- mental to the higher education, to sci- ence, and to democracy itself; and the people everywhere, differ as they might in politics, instantly recognized it and resented it. The unanimity and the emphasis of their condemnation is, we say, something to be profoundly grateful for. It is something to be grateful for that the issue was simple and was plainly declared. It is important that, if sentiments like those avowed by the committee of the Brown University corporation exist among men control- ling the schools and scientific institu- tions of the country, the country should know it. It has been charged more than once that pressure has been brought to bear upon college presi- (lents and professors of political econ- omy to prevent their expression of views likely to be displeasing to the rich men from whom gifts and legacies were expected or desired; but the charge, although often, we believe, only too well founded, has always heretofore been vehemently and aux- iotisly denied. Virtue has alxvays been assumed, even if it did not exist; the pretence of academic freedom has at any rate been kept up. Had it been said txvo years ago that a letter like tl1at addressed to President Andrews by the committee of the Brown trus- tees was possible, it would have been pronotinced incredible. It is incredi- ble now, as one reads it in cool blood a month after its date. Men really holding in their hearts the sentiments here avowed might well be expected to say, An enemy hath done this ; for had their devil been entrusted, for their confotinding, with the making of their letter, lie would have made precisely this letter. There are three points in this letter. In the first l)lace, the trustees rec- ognize the Presidents distinguished services, the efficiency of his admin- istration, and the great growth and iinprovement of the tiniversity under him. In the second place, although it had been frantically denied, tll)oii 119

EDITORS TAI3LE. HE agitation throughout the country over the recent action of the cor- poration of Brown Uni- versity, requesting Presi- dent Andrews to suppress public expression of his views upon the leading issue in our national politics, lest lie offend some of the rich friends of the university, has been something noteworthy; and it has been of a character so whole- some and inspiring, so indicative of the manliness and love of free inquiry of our scholars and the sound common sense of our people, that we are tempted to pronounce the whole epi- sode something to be grateful for, rather than to be deprecated. The condemnation of the position of the trustees and the warm approbatioii of President Andrews firm and simple letter of resignation which followed immediately the formulation of the criticism by the committee have found overwhelming and almost uniform ex- pression from the scholars of the coun- try, from the important newspapers, both religious and political, and from the various organs of public opinion; and the one or two weak apologies which have come from certain of the trtistees have been without effect, in no way excusing their action nor con- fusing the public. The issue was a very simple one; the attack was upoii the principle most sacred and funda- mental to the higher education, to sci- ence, and to democracy itself; and the people everywhere, differ as they might in politics, instantly recognized it and resented it. The unanimity and the emphasis of their condemnation is, we say, something to be profoundly grateful for. It is something to be grateful for that the issue was simple and was plainly declared. It is important that, if sentiments like those avowed by the committee of the Brown University corporation exist among men control- ling the schools and scientific institu- tions of the country, the country should know it. It has been charged more than once that pressure has been brought to bear upon college presi- (lents and professors of political econ- omy to prevent their expression of views likely to be displeasing to the rich men from whom gifts and legacies were expected or desired; but the charge, although often, we believe, only too well founded, has always heretofore been vehemently and aux- iotisly denied. Virtue has alxvays been assumed, even if it did not exist; the pretence of academic freedom has at any rate been kept up. Had it been said txvo years ago that a letter like tl1at addressed to President Andrews by the committee of the Brown trus- tees was possible, it would have been pronotinced incredible. It is incredi- ble now, as one reads it in cool blood a month after its date. Men really holding in their hearts the sentiments here avowed might well be expected to say, An enemy hath done this ; for had their devil been entrusted, for their confotinding, with the making of their letter, lie would have made precisely this letter. There are three points in this letter. In the first l)lace, the trustees rec- ognize the Presidents distinguished services, the efficiency of his admin- istration, and the great growth and iinprovement of the tiniversity under him. In the second place, although it had been frantically denied, tll)oii 119 120 EDITORS TABLE. the first intimation of the trouble, that politics was at the bottom of it, the trustees frankly declare that their sole criticism has reference to the Presidents views upon the leading issue in the recent presidential elec- tion, which is still predominant in national politics. Thirdly, they do not, of course, ask him for a renun- ciation of his views as honestly enter- tained by him, the mention of it is incredible, but here it is in print, but they ask him not to say pub- licly what he thinks upon the lead- mg issue in our national politics, because because they believe that these views are so contrary to the views generally held by the friends of the university that the university had already lost gifts and legacies which otherwise would have come or have heen assured to it, and that without change it would in the future fail to receive the pecuniary support which is requisite. Such was the letter addressed to the president of an American university by its trustees in the year of our Lord 1897, and of the independence of the United States the 123d, 262 years, it may be added, after the founding of Rhode Island by Roger Williams. Addressed, we say, by the trustees. We do not say that all of the trustees are to be held personally responsible for the letter; we trust that some of them disapprove it as strongly as the great body of the thoughtful men throughout the country disapprove it; we know that many of them were not present at the meeting at which the committee was appointed to confer with the President; we do not fail to remember that one leading trustee, upon seeing the letter when it ap- peared in print, pronounced it very unhappily framed. But every mem- ber of the board of trustees is offi- cially responsible for the letter. The committee acted with authority. It was appointed at a regular meeting of the board, without a single dissenting voice or vote, and every trustee is responsible until he disclaims the re sponsibility and repudiates the letter. * * * American scholars and the Ameri- can republic have reason for devout gratitude that the man who sat in the presidents chair of Brown University was a man who knew so well what his duty was to the republic and to scholarship that he needed to ask him- self no questions concerning a mes- sage like this and needed to take no time to reply to it. The firm and sim- ple word of President Andrews which xvent back to the trustees upon the morrow should be recorded here: Believing that, however much I might desire to do so, I should find myself un- able to meet the wishes of the corporation as explained by the special committee re- cently appointed to confer with me on the interests of the University, without sur- rendering that reasonable liberty of utter- ance which my predecessors, my faculty colleagues and myself have hitherto en- joyed, and in the absence of which the most ample endowment for an educational insti- tution would have but little worth. I re- spectfully resign the presidency of the University and also my professorship therein. * * * If the letter of President Andrews, written instantly and saying the exact word demanded by the occasion, was a source of satisfaction to the scholars and earnest men of the country, a still greater occasion of satisfaction was the open letter addressed to the cor- poration by members of the faculty of the university as quickly as it was pos- sible for them, in the vacation time, to confer with each other and act con- certedly. This protest was dated just a fortnight after the correspondence between the trustees and the President and signed by twenty-four of the pro- fessors, a great majority in point of number, a still greater majority of the life and red blood of the faculty, all bright and brainy young men, de- clared one of the trustees, talking for the newspaper, condemning their ac- tion and hastening to pronounce it as revolutionary as an open revolt. EDITORS TABLE. 121 In truth, revolutionary is precisely what the facultys letter was not. It was a protest again revolution, against an innovation, and a most dangerous one, in American university life, on the part of a university corporation. Who was revolutionary in England in 1637: was it John Hampden or Charles I.? Who was revolutionary in 1775: was it George Washington or George III.? It was to the ancient and undoubted birthright and inherit- ance of Englishmen that Sir John Eliot in the Tower appealed against the assertion of new and tyrannical prerogatives by the king. The ancient British liberties, on both continents alike, Patrick Henry declared, was what George III. was threatening; and Burke and Fox and Chatham said Amen. They knew that the men be-~ hind the redoubt on Bunker Hill, and not King Georges soldiers, were the real antagonists of revolution; that Sam Adams was the real representa- tive of the English idea when England set a price upon his head; and George Washington bombarding the British out of Boston. We do not hesitate to record our own opinion that the protest of the Brown University faculty against the recent attack of the corporation upon academic freedom in America and its great traditions is the most important paper of any kind which has appeared in America in the past ten years, the word fullest of hope for the next ten years, when the tyranny with which the republic chiefly has to cope will be the tyranny of money. Nothing is so important to a democracy, a govern- ment by public opinion, as that the scholar, the man of science, should have absolute freedom. It is funda- mental to modern civilization itself, and is so recognized to be wherever there is civilization. The German uni- versities teem with professors teach- ing political and social theories vastly more radical and unpopular than any with which President Andrews was ever identified, theories often most re- pugnant to the government; yet such an interference with academic freedom in Germany as this by the corporation of Brown University would awaken a universal protest, as against a thing intolerable and profane; the despotic Kaiser himself would not venture to connect his name with what all would feel to be so great a shame to the fatherland and to the proud traditions of her science and her education. Sad indeed will the day be, should it ever come, which God forbid! when the republic must learn lessons in free- dom from the empire. When freedom of inquiry and discussion is forbidden or is threatened in the schools, it is threatened at the very citadel. Every American is under obligations to the faculty of Brown University for say- ing this with power. They recognize aright that more is involved than the exigencies of a single institution or the fortunes of a single educator. Upon them has fallen, as upon their president, responsibility for the guar- dianship of academic freedom in America. We believe that they will be found as faithful to their trust as he. We do not believe that they have ven- tured lightly or profanely to invoke the name of Milton. We greatly mis- take the temper of the men who signed this protest, unless, if it is not heeded, they go out as the men would have gone out who passed the Grand Re nionstrance. We mistake if they would not do this amid the applause and admiration of the whole student body. We mistake if the great body of the friends of Brown University, the families whose sons through the gen- erations have turned to her halls for their training and who are proud of her great name, do not feel with all other friends of freedom throughout the republic, that unless this dishonor is removed, unless the university is re- deemed from the taint of forbidding her teachers the primary rights and primary duties of citizenship and mak- ing silence or suppression of opinion upon the great issues of our national politics a condition of her offices, the only service she can thenceforth ren [22 EDITORS TABLE. der education and the republic will be when the spider and the bat become the sole inhabitants of her silent lec- ture rooms and the grass grows in her paths. That spectacle, and that alone, should this taint not be removed, could be didactic at Brown University. The trustees, in their letter to Presi- dent Andrews, had themselves borne witness to the splendid efficiency of his administration; but the facultys letter shows us how notably successful this has been and how entirely without ex- cuse, by reason of any real business exigency, was the recent action. The number of students at Brown Univer- sity has nearly trebled under Dr. An- drews presidency, the rate of growth during the past eight years having been three times as great as the gen- eral rate of growth of the other New England colleges. When Dr. An- drews took hold of Brown University, it was a fossilized institution; in eight years he has brought it to the very forefront among New England col- leges, the record of financial growth especially being unexampled in its his- tory. Say the professors: Partly by reason of the hard times, partly for other reasons, donations to New England colleges have, in general, been slackening of late, and the president is fairly entitled to have this fact taken into consideration. The productive funds of the other colleges in New England. taken all together, increased less than half as much per cent in these last eight years as in the eight years preceding. But we, meanwhile, have been more fortti- nate than they in the possession of a com- ~)ensating source of supply, due to the un- irecedented increase in the number of our students. The annual receipts of the uni- versity are now more than twice what they were when Dr. Andrews came to the presidency. If income be a fit criterion, he is entitled to be regarded as, in a pe- cuniary sense, the greatest benefactor Brown University has ever had. More than half its income is, beyond a doubt, due to him and his labors, for while in the year ending April 15, 1889, the total income of the university was but $67,064, in the year ending April 15, 1897, it was $159,828. The amotint annually derived from invested funds has, indeed, during these eight years, increased but little. But the amount of money annually received from students, which before his accession, it is well known, had long been practically stationary, has steadily risen from $23,358 to $101,464. The professors enter upon this pe- cuniary question only in a defensive spirit, because of false inferences which might be made from the trus- tees action as to the universitys con- dition. They say, coming to the ques- tion of real importance: We are far from basing the demonstra- tion of President Andrews right to speak his mind chiefly upon the financial success of his administration. A writer in the Providence Jonr)i(il declares that in these very practical clays of the closing years of the nineteenth century, the final test of a college president is his ability to draw funds toward the treasury of the institution over which he presides. But those who are ac- customed to observe and reflect tipon the issues of university education, those who have felt its value and perceived the real sources of its power, know well that the final test is at the end of the century what it was at the beginning of the century. what it has been in all preceding centuries the existence or the non-existence of that personal power which, with money or with- out money, can take hold of an institution and lift it from a lower to a higher plane. which can seize upon the imaginations and the moral natures of young men and trans- form them into something more scholarly and manly and noble. No one inquires whether Dr. Thomas Arnold increased the endowment of Rugby. No one holds that the importance of Benjamin Jowett as mas- ter of Balliol is to be measured by the amount of money he collected for his col- lege. No one imagines that the greatness and the success of Francis Wayland are to be measured in dollars and cents. No one believes that the ability of President Eliot to raise money can be compared, in its value to Harvard University, with those higher qualities which have made him during twenty-eight years so great a power in the educational world. As well contend that the debt-raiser is the one valuable type of clergyman. There are many passages like this in this noble protest \vhich sliotild be printed in letters of light and hung in all the college haIls of America, such splendid presentations are they of the true principles of academic life. To suggest to the presi(lent of a univer- sitv a limitation of his activities in pub- EDITORS TABLE. 123 lie affairs and restrain him from ex- pressing himself as a citizen upon topics which are of interest to every citizen, such action, the letter de- clares, rests upon a theory which, if extensively acted upon, would eat the heart out of our educational institu- tions, the theory that the material growth of a university is of more importance than independence of thought and expression on the part of its president and professors, and that boards of trustees have, as such, the right to suggest limitations upon such independence. Asking the question whether it is a good thing for the com- munity that public statement of tin 1)opular opinions should be restrained, the professors argue that number- less instances have convinced mankind that seeming error should be met with (liscussion and not with repression. Asking if the president of an institu- tion is under obligations to conform his public expressions to the views of its trustees or of the community in which it is placed, they say, Jf it is the (luty of the head of a university, in a state like this, to conform to the politi- cal views of the majority of its inhab- itants, what is his duty in a doubtful state? Must he wriggle around like the Vicar of Bray, takitig care always to side with the majority? There are Western state universities where just such uniformity has been exacted, and the disastrous results are well known. ft is not the proper function of a uni- versity, so they sum tip this portion of their argument, to represent or to advocate any favored set of political, any more than of religious doctrines, 1)ut rather to inspire young men with the love of truth and knowledge and, with freedom and openness of mind. to teach how these are to be attained. Touching a point which had already been intimated and which has since been expressly urged by one violent partisan among the trustees, who has confessed that he started the trouble, the professors say and it is to be re- membered that not one of the txventv- four shares the presidents financial views: it is useless to argue that there is no politics in the present move- ment, on the ground that the ques- tion of the free coinage of silver is a moral question. Every man is presumed to think that while a politi- cal matter about which he cares little is politics, one about which he cares a great deal is simply a matter of right and wrong, because he is right and his opponent wrong. Every econo- mist would unite in declaring the cur- rencv question a question of public policy, which, whatever its moral ele- ment, is open to discussion in the same sense as other questions of public policy. On the one hand, so the pro- fessors finally state the isstie, we have the problematical or imaginary addition of a certain number of dol- lars. On the other hand we have throughout the whole intellectual life of the university the deadening influ- ence of known or suspected repression. Our students will know or stispect that on certain subjects the silence of their president has been purchased or im- posed. if the resignation of Dr. An- drews is accepted, the burden and the stigma fall on his successor. We con- ceive that it will be hard to persuade a nian of such independence as charac- terized Wayland and Sears and Rob- inson an(l Andrews to accept the diffi- cult task tinder these new conditions. If our young men suspect what we have intimated concerning his public utterances, they will suspect it of his class-rooni instruction. If they stis- pect it of the president, they will sus- pect it of the professors. Confidence in the instruction of the tiniversitv is fatally impaired. . . . Interested in the most obvious manner in the material prosperity of the institution, more anxiotis than any others can be for its (ievelopment and expansion, we, nevertheless, would not see its l)r05- perity advanced, and we do not believe that its real prosperity can be ad- yanced, by private suppression and politic compliance; for we are con- vinceci that the lifeblood of a uni 124 EDITORS TABLE. versity is not money, but freedom. * * A prominent and respected member of the corporation, in an open letter in reply to the letter of the faculty, ex- presses his profound regret that they indulge in the prophecy which en- sures its own fulfillment, in the words, If the resignation of President An- drews is accepted the burden and stigma fall on his successor. What less, what else, could the faculty say? Yet the prophecy did not indeed re- quire utterance. It was the inevitable prophecy of the situation, and the logic of the situation ensured its ful- fillment. The man who should take the office which President Andrews has resigned, unless the taint which has been placed upon it be removed, accepting the fetters which President Andrews and his faculty have treated with defiance and contempt, conced- ing by his action that the president of an American university shall take orders from his trustees as to his polit- ical opinions or his expression of them, such a man would not only be despised by the professors who have defined the burden and stigma which would fall upon him; he would be scorned as a public enemy by every high-minded American scholar and by the American people. * * Freely as we have quoted from this noble protest of the Brown University professors, we should be glad if it were possible for us to quote still more freely, so inspiring and adequate a statement is it of the great principle of academic freedom and so complete and unanswerable a condemnation of those who, in the home of Roger Wil- liams, have so conspicuously and startlingly attacked it. We wish that it might be printed as a tract and cir- culated by the thousand among the schools of America; for the attack which it meets is not the first similar attack upon the schools, and it will not be the last. Unanswerable we call it. Two of the trustees have felt com- pelled to attempt to answer it the politician who is confessedly respon- sible for the trouble and the respected divine whom we have just cited; but their words are poor and ineffect- ual indeed. The politicians utter- ance was chiefly noteworthy as having instantly drawn the following commu- nication to the newspapers from one of his fellow-trustees for whom he had assumed to speak, a judge of the Mas- sachusetts Superior Court: I have just read what purports to be an interview with Hon. J. H. Walker, in which he is alleged to have stated that it is the unanimous opinion of the corpora- tion of Brown University that the question upon which Dr. Andrews is at variance with it is far more vital to the well-being of the country than were the questions upon which the Civil War was fought, in fact, that this question is fundamental to the continued progress of Christian civili- zation. I make no question that the above statement is a correct report of Mr. Walkers own views, but I fear his enthu- siastic utterance may not be assented to by every member of the corporation. I am a member of the corporation, and I for one do not assent to it, and do not care to be made responsible for it. * * * The general principle laid down by the politician who started the trouble is that the teachings of the pres- ident and professors of each institution should adhere in the main to the teach- ing for truth those things the institu- tion was founded to teach, the corpor- ation being judge. Suppose there were virtue in the principle: was Brown University, or any university, worthy of the name, founded to teach any particular political doctrines, socialism or individualism, free trade or protection, mono-metallism or bi- metallism, slavery or anti-slavery? Our politician seems to argue that the currency question is not politics be- cause, to his thinking, it is more im- portant than the questions upon which the great historic political par- EDITORS TABLE. 125 ties of the country grew up. This is jugglery. The slavery question, when Garrison started The Liberator in 183 I, was more important than the questions upon which the historical parties of that time grew up; but there is not much doubt that the slavery question was politics in i86i. In 1831, what our politician would call all right-thinking men in the com- munity accounted the abolitionists a much more pestiferous and mischiev- ous lot than any set of men in the polit- ical arena in the present year of grace. Ten years after 1841, indeed, Francis Wayland, so vastly greater a sinner in his day on tariff theories than An- drews to-day on currency theories, took a part in a discussion which has been pronounced the most pungent in the literature of the anti-slavery move- ment, which since the Emancipation Proclamation his nephews and nieces have probably not been anxious to re- member. But suppose, in the first years of The Liberator, before one of the great historic parties had made anti-slavery politics, Francis Way- land had said I believe Garrison is right, would it have been the part of all right-thinking men to say, It is not fit that such a man should be president of Brown University? Would it have been the part of his trustees to confer with him on the interests of the university? That we laugh at such a thing as preposterous, that we see such a thing to-day as fact, is the measure of our decline. There has recently been a change in the presidency of a western state col- lege, a state institution in a silver state. It was said that the old presi- dent was removed because be was a gold man, the nexv president chosen as a silver man. We believe the charge untrue, but it was made. That community believed, as Francis Walker believed, what a crown of glory upon the Massachusetts Insti- tute of Technology if its trustees had conferred with him! that our present dollar is a dishonest dollar, worth a dollar and a half; and the col lege authorities might urge in excuse of their act that the college was found- ed to teach honest politics, themselves being judge. That is the outcome of the principle laid down by our politi- cian, assuming to speak for the trus- tees of Brown University. Do they believe it is a good policy for our higher education in America? Would they like to see it adopted throughout the West? Do they want Brown Uni- versity to go down into history as the great pioneer and precedent in such a policy? * * * Our politician lays down another general principle: that the clergy, for the clergy, too, need raking over the coals about this time, and col- lege presidents and professors invari- ably mar their work when they turn aside to meddle in current politics. We learn from the professors letter that the Brown trustees granted a member of the faculty leave of ab- sence during seven weeks of the last autumn term, in order that he might make Republican political speeches in the West; but this does not count, be- cause in our last campaign there was no politics. As to the clergy, we must leave Dr. Hale and Bishop I-Iuntington and Bishop Potter and Rainsford and Greer and Heber New- ton and Moxom and Gladden and the rest to defend themselves for being good citizens and men of affairs, and to apologize properly for John Cotton and Thomas Hooker and Roger Wil- liams and the rest of the New England Puritans, for Prophet Samuel, too, and Prophet Isaiah and others of that ilk, for meddling in politics in their time. As for the college presidents, we think we hear Seth Low and Eliot and Tucker and Hyde and Gates and Schurman and Angell exclaim: Shades of Increase Mather and Edward Ever- ett and Theodore Woolsey and Mark Hopkins and Julius Seelye and Fran- cis Walker! We hear, too, what is vastly more reassuring, the great cho- ms of mockery and contempt for this 126 EDITORS TABLE. pallid, monkish doctrine going up from every red-blooded college stu- dent in the land. If there is one thing which the young men in our schools need above all else, it is men as their leaders and teachers who are not hermit scholars, but active, zeal- ous citizens, with opinions to express upon public questions, and power to express them. If there is anything which we all need at this time, anything which we should all be grateful for, it is frank, free, untrammelled discussion of our present complex social, in- dustrial and financial questions the most complex ever submitted to a democracy, most needing searching and many-sided discussion by seri- ous, impartial, disinterested scientific men, instead of prejudiced, one-sided partisans and bigots. A man like An- drews, a man like General Walker, is a godsend to a community like most of our Eastern communities in the last campaign, where almost all of us were on the other side, forcing us to do some fair and square thinking and have some reasons that would wash for the faith that was in us, instead of settling our politics by dogmatism. If Brown University had not had one bi- metallist in its force last year, against twenty-four men on the other side, it could have done much worse than make belief in bi-metallism a distinct recommendation for the new professor it needed; the Kansas college would do xvell to make sure that it has at least one energetic gold man in its faculty. General Walker stated a year ago that when, in 1873, the question of the single gold basis of currency be- gan to be first seriously discussed, the professors of political economy in Great Britain were almost unanimous in their opposition to bi-metallism, but now, as the result of more than twenty years~ debate, there has been such a change of opinion that there is scarcely one leading English professor of this science who is not in favor of bi-metallism. Senator Hoar has talked in a similar strain. Should Eng- land, a gold country, shut these pro- fessors mouths? We are not here talking about gold or about silver; we have discussed the currency question in these pages, and our readers know our opinions. But it is ridiculous, it is criminal, for any of us, think as we may al)out ~he currency, to treat as a closed question xvhat the trustees themselves, in their letter to President Andrews, pronounce still the pre- dominant issue in national politics, and not to welcome and foster the freest and most searching study and discussion of it by all scientific men. Many of us read with mingled pro- test and humiliation the article in a re- cent number of one of the leading English reviews on Freedom in the American Colleges. It was a melan- choly array of facts by which the writer led up to this conclusion: It may be, it must be, a temporary phase, but it is not to be doubted that what the American colleges are competing with each other for to-day is not pre-emi- nence in scholarship, but endowments, gifts of money. The position of president goes not to the best scholar, but to the best beggar, to the man who, by his reputation for conservative views and for administra- tive ability, can win the confidence of the rich men from whom endowments must be looked for. With these colleges, em- ploying an instructor or retaining one already employed, turns on this question: What would be the effect of his views upon a possible donor? What would have been our protest had we been told, what would have been our humiliation could we have foreseen, when we read this article in the spring, that we should crown the reviewer s argument with this surpass- ing illustration, seeing what we have seen at Brown University? It is from an English quarter, too, that the most serious comment which EDITORS TABLE. 12,7 we have seen upon this attack on aca- demic freedom in America has pro- ceeded. Emphatic and solemn as have been the protests of our own leading journals, few of them have 51)Oken with the plainness and severity of the great London daily from whose long editorial we cite this brief pas- sage: The dismissal of Dr. Andrews from the presidency of Brown University, Provi- dence, Rhode Island, is the most serious blow yet struck in America by the capital- ist oligarchy which threatens social, eco- nomic and intellectual liberty in the Union. . . It seems to us quite certain that a conflict is approaching in the United States which will shake the Union as it was shaken by the great slavery contest of an earlier generation. The power of organ- ized wealth has reached a point where it becomes inconsistent with the healthy existence and growth of republican institu- tions. No merely economic outcome of this power of concentrated capital is so serious as is the pretension of wealthy men to control academic teaching and culture. \Vhether bi-metallism is true or false is nothing to the point. Scores of econo- iiiists in Germany, France and Great Britain believe in it and openly teach it. Univer- sities and colleges should exist solely for the purpose of frank, free investigation into every department of learning, every aspect of life with which science or culture can deal. If the university is gagged, the intel- lect of the country is crippled, its intellec- tual organs of vision are destroyed. Splendid as have been the donations of wealthy men in America to many of the great universities, we are not sure whether in some cases there has not been an un- worthy motive behind these gifts. The rich men who have already so largely con- trolled the American pulpit in the large cities seem to have made up their minds that it would also be well to get hold of the colleges and universities, where the study of economics and political science is far more widely extended than it is in Eng- land. All the institutions of the republic, from the Senate to a corner grocery in a prairie town, are to be managed by the owners of the big monopolies that seems to be the idea entertained by these mag- nates; and consequently the universities, as being the places where the mind of youth is formed, are to be captured one by one. That this will raise a bitter feeling first and a (langerous insurrectionary movement next is absolutely certain. A people who abandoned their seats of learning to the control of rich men (themselves neither cultured nor caring, as a rule, for culture,) would deserve to lose their liberty, would, as a matter of fact, soon lose it. This is not pleasant reading. The writer is mistaken in some of his facts; we trust he is more mistaken in some of his inferences. But what makes his words unpleasant reading is the amount of truth that is in them. So, to one thoughtful man looking at it at long range, not caring to balance nice- ties, but painting in large strokes, ap- pears this collision. The serious American, the man who has an anx- ious interest for the republic, will not be angry with him; he will only seek to learn aright the lesson. And he will the more readily believe with the Lon- don writer that the attack upon Pres- ident Andrews is not simply because of his heretical financial views, but because of his general advanced posi- tion upon social and industrial ques- tions, when he remembers that it was inspired by one who declared that the income tax violated the law of Christ, that to him that bath shall be given, and from him that bath not shall be taken away even that which he bath,~ and who has said in the news- papers, defending himself for starting the trouble at Brown, that Dr. An- drews has taught other things than silver which were thought to be detri- mental to the progress of the univer- sity. His position upon the wage question, he said, is bad! Whatever may be true of a few reckless politicians and a few blinded rich men, we are persuaded that the last thing which the great majority of the trustees of Brown University would knowingly permit is the misuse of that honored institution in the struggle, whose direful progress we are witnessing, between wealth and the commonwealth. They have been be- trayed into a false position by a few violent men in their number. We re- fuse to believe that they deliberately desire to limit that reasonable lib- erty of utterance which the American college president and professors have ia8 EDITORS TABLE. always hitherto enjoyed. It is impos- sible that they realized the full scope and logic of their action, or that many of them could have read without dis- may the letter of their committee. We sincerely hope that the great body of them believe not only, as one of their number declares, that the letter was very unhappily framed, but that it was most mischievously conceived, that it proceeds upon a principle which would be the most poisonous that could find lodgment in our uni- versity life and which no right-think- ing American can afford to endorse. One of them assures the public that, with perhaps two exceptions, all mem- bers of the corporation want the pres- ident to remain. We count it a dis- tinct misfortune if President Andrews has made arrangements inconsistent with his remaining, without waiting for the action of the corporation upon his resignation. But with President Andrews personal fortunes the coun- try is not concerned. It is concerned that the historic old Rhode Island uni- versity shall be redeemed and that its corporation shall undo the great wrong which they have done to aca- demic freedom in America. Let them undo it, not because the country has condemned it, but because they them- selves recognize their mistake. Con- sistency, it has been well said, is the hobgoblin of little minds. Strong men are never so strong as when they say frankly, We have made a mistake and we propose to right it. Let it not be in the home of Roger Williams that an orthodoxy is fixed in political economy, that the school is made a monastery, and the scholar and the teacher is forbidden to be a citizen and to come into the great town meeting which is the glory of New England. BOOKER T. WASHINGTON

THE NEW ENGLAND MAGAZINE. NEW SERIES. OCTOBER, 1897. VOL. XVII. No. 2. BOOKER WASHINGTON AND THE TUSKEGEE INSTITUTE. By i/loll/al 7. Ca/iowa i. TUSKEGEE is the county seat of Macon County, Alabama. It is located in the midst of the Black Belt. This belt, which gets its name from the color of the popula- tion, is a stretch of fertile cotintry, reaching from the rice swamps of South Carolina through south-central Georgia, and on as far as Louisiana and Arkansas. It was across this mag- nificent country that DeSoto and his adventtirers were tempted on to the Mississippi. The village of Tuskegee stands on a modest elevation that marks the site of one of DeSotos halts, and before the war it was a fashionable summer resort for plant- ers. A military academy for boys and a seminary for girls have been con- ducted in the village for many years for the education of white youth. A young girl who was born in a slave cabin still remaining aniong the buildings occupied by the Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute was among the first students at the insti- tute and graduated several years ago. fully inspired with the spirit of labor- ing for the elevation of her race. She went into an inland plantation and se- cured a district school as a centre for her labors. The average term of the rural school is three months, and rare- ly does the salary go over fifteen or 3 eighteen dollars. This young woman discovered that the poverty of the ped- ple was due more to little extrava- gancies, waste of money for whiskey, cheap jewelry, and such needless things, than to other reasons, and that if they would give up these forms of waste they had the means in them- selves to work out their own elevation. Going among them iii a way to win their confidence, she induced them to economize an(l contribute in some form for prolonging the school term. These contributions xvere sometimes in money, oftener in eggs, chickens or labor. To show them how they might make these contributions, she in most cases kept their accounts for them. In this xvav she was enabled to add two months to the public term during the first year. built a neat, comfortable, frame school-house the second year to take the place of the dilapidated log hut, and during the third year added other months until the school is tan ght noxv eight months each year in a good school building. Thoroughly interested in the people of her com- n3unity, she identified herself with them in every way, leading the Sun- day School and taking an active part in the church work. To effect the indus- trial improvement of the community. she organized a society which met 132 BOOKER WA SHING TON AND TUSKEGEE. monthly, the condition of membership being the ownership of two hogs. The society soon enrolled representatives of each family in the neighborhood. The result was to introdnce a spirit of ownership throughont the commnnity. The responsibility and care of two hogs was, compared to the hand to month existence before, a great step; and to the acqnisition of small farms and the erection of comfortable two and three-room cottages to take the place of the wrecks of log cabins the way was comparatively easy. The industrial change, marvelous as it has been, is less wonderful than the moral change, for, as elsewhere the world over, when these people had some- thing for which they were liable on civil snits, something snbject to taxa- tion, they became more responsive to efforts for their improvement and have become more concerned abont crime in the commnnity. Two years ago a yonng man gradu- ated from Tuske- gee who had com- pleted the course in dairying. A friend of the insti- tution being called upon to recom- mend a suitable manager to a firm of white men about to open a dairy named this young man, whose skin was dark, but concerning the color of whose skin nothing was said. When the black man presented him- self the astonishment was complete, and the president of the company be- gan to talk about the mans color. The young man reminded the presi- dent that he had come to talk about the making of butter; and so the con- versation oscillated from color to but- ter and from butter to color, till finally it was agreed that the young man should have a trial; but there was no decision to retain a man of his com- plexion until returns came from his first shipment of butter to New York city. When these were to the effect that the butter prepared by this young man had brought one cent a pound more than any butter that had ever been shipped from that community, the young man became about half white; and when the returns from the GENERAL vi~w OF TUSKEGEE. THE FIR5T BUILDING AT TUSKEGEE. BOOKER WASHINGTON AND TUSKEGEE. 33 second or third shipment showed that the butter manufactured by the young man realized something over two cents a pound more than any butter ever before shipped from that com- munity, he became entirely white, so far as the eyes of that firm were concerned. The fact that this young man was able to develop the pro- ductive industry of that community by two cents a pound on butter proved the only successful bleaching device that has, as yet, been discovered there. For the purpose of training such young men and women for leaders in education and industry the Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute was started in i88i, in the village with the Indian name of Tuskegee, by Booker Talliaferro Washington. Booker Washingtons origin was the humblest possible. Born near Hales Ford, Virginia, in 1857 or 1858, he was reared in a one-room log cabin without any floor except the hard earth, with no window and with almost no door. A few skillets which were used to fry meat and cook the corn loaf served the place of dishes; and the boy from day to day ate his frugal meal in the cabin corner, under the bed, or in the yard, without ever sit- ting down at a table. When he was about nine years old the war closed; and he remembers the formal reading of some paper to the assembled slaves around the big house and an ex- clamation of his mother that they were free. The family was no sooner free than it was decided to seek wider fields of labor. Hence when it was rumored that coal mining offered higher wages, the decision was at once reached to go to West Virginia where mines were in operation. The journey across the mountains was made in a rude cart, and the mountains being still filled with guerilla warriors there were many hardships encountered. A Northern woman, who had been married to a Southern man before the war and with him was sharing the hardships of lost fortune as a result of the lost cause, engaged the services of the boy Booker; and it was while working for her that he received that training in in- dustry and thrift which have charac THE TUSKEGEE FACULTY. 34 BOOKER WASHINGTON AND TUSKEGEE. terized his life. It is related that the amount of profit which this Yankee woman realized from a small truck farm was a source of great amazement to the neighbors. Many a day was Booker started off to market at day- hreak; and the season always ended well. Here he first learned that the difference in social conditions was more the result of intelligent energy than any natural conditions of soil and climate. This woman had started him in a few lessons in the three Rs; and so eager did he hecome to master them, that many times she had to go to his cahin at two oclock in the morn- ing and command that his lamp should be put out and he should retire. At sixteen years of age he deter- mined to further his education at Hampton Institute, having heard that it was a place where a Negro boy could secure an education by working for it. Starting without even the necessary railroad fare, he finally reached Hampton, having to sleep under a sidewalk in Richmond on his way. If you are worth educating we will give you the chance, was the la- conic response of General Armstrong to the young boys story of his strug- gles and ambition. Chance indeed it was. Earnest, self-sacrificing teach- ers, large and beautiful buildings, ma- chinery, workshops and a living at- mosphere, these together constituted the chance which the lad was seeking. Life at Hampton is a ceaseless round of activity, and each student must work for his education; hence the formative influence of his home life was not neglected or destroyed by the necessity for hard labor being re- moved, but was strengthened under the skilled training and broader un- derstanding of physical sciences. He received no Latin nor Greek, but thorough lessons in English and prac- tical subjects were exacted. Graduat- ing in 1875, he secured the public school at Malden, West Virginia, where he won the hearts of the people by such sympathy for their condition as they had not seen before. He pur- chased shoes for needy children, car- ried little ones through the snow, and never tired in rendering help. His ability as a public speaker was discovered at this time, and in 1879 he was engaged to speak throughout his orric~~s OF THE BATTALION. BOOKER WASHINGTON AND TUSKEGEE. 35 state upon the question of the re- moval of the state capital. Such was his success as a speaker that he was urged by a judge of the dis- trict court, who had become inter- ested in him, to study law and en- ter the legal pro- fession; and he was actually en- ~aged in law studies when General Armstrong asked him to take charge of the night school and of Indian discipline at Hampton. He had, however, worked less than two years in this position when a call came from Alabama for a young colored man to take charge of a new college, which position be- ing offered to him and accepted was the occasion of his change to a field which was to be the scene of a power- ful enterprise for the elevation of his race and a magnificent exhibition of the horse sense of an Afro-Amer- ican. It was now sixteen years since Ap- pomattox, and the Negro question had MILLINERY cLAss. been argued in every campaign. Re- publican state governments in the South had one after another been overthrown, and the Negroes who for four national campaigns had forced their way in the political arena, ex- pecting the belated forty acres and a mule, were beginning to conclude that politics did not pay. Those who had set out to save their race through paternal legislation were discouraged, and there did not lack prophets who predicted an evil state of things that would surpass the evils of slavery. About this time Lewis Adams, a shrewd colored man, who had lived all his life in Tuskegee and during slav- ery had been taught the trades of tinner and shoemaker, and who had built up a first-class hardware store along with shoemaking, was approached by a candidate for the legislature with propositions to swing the Negro vote. An agreement was finally reached, and the Negroes supported the can- didate on the understanding that a sufficient sum of money was to be appropriated to 136 BOOKER WASHINGTON AND TUSKEGEE. open a college. An appropriation of two thousand dollars was secured from the state treasnry, and three trustees were appointed, two white and one colored, two of whom have been trus- tees ever since, George W. Camp- bell and Lewis Adams. These were the men who wrote to General Arm- strong and secured Booker Washing- ton for the purpose of starting a col- lege. But this Negro Joshua began to teach and preach that industrial edu- cation was the road to salvation. If waking bricks produced men and hammering iron wrought out charac- ter, why had the cultivation of cotton not harvested liberty? Thus superfi- cially reasoned many on the proposi- tion of industrial education. Others claimed that the struggle of the freedmen was one of ignorance against education, and that whenever the Negro should demonstrate his ability in abstruse thought and be able to contest for honors in the pro- fessions and the fields of mental ac- tivity purely, other forms of prejudice x& ould quickly fall away. Not many years ago I counted in the city of Washington several scores of graduates from Negro colleges and universities. Most of these were holding positions as clerks in vari- ous departments of the government service. These clerkships had not only been won in competitive ex- amination, but frequently under try- ing ordeals of prejudice. It was a source of pride, and rightfully so, that young men only one generation from slavery could thus hold their own in competition with their white brothers. The question of the capability of the race under Civil Service was an- swered. But unfortunately while this question was being solved there were hundreds of communities in the South where the Negroes were being driven to the wall, remaining in helpless A CLA55 IN TAILORiNG. A FARMING cLASS. BOOKER WASHINGTON AND TUSKEGEE. 13,7 ignorance because of want of leader- ship. May we not as a race, for the past thirty years, have devoted too much of our effort and ambition in the direction of proving our equality by competing for places which have hith- erto been forbidden us, rather than bending our energies to hold the posi- tions which slavery left to us and building up these occupations as a prime condition for conquering other fields of labor? This was the gospel of the new leader. Principal Washing- ton had not only mastered the lessons at Hampton, but carried the same to their full and legitimate conclusions. What was an educational method was developed into a platform on which the whites of the South and the blacks can stand with full justice to each race. On the Fourth of July, i88i, thirty crude boys and girls and their one teacher gathered into a church and cabin to organize the Tuskegee Nor- mal and Industrial Institute. It was an appropriate coincidence that this new declaration of industrial inde- pendence should have had its realiza- tion inaugurated on such a day. The first students were mainly from Tus- kegee village; but as the school has become known about one thousand students are now enrolled from twenty-two states, including Califor- nia, and four hundred have been de- nied admission during the present year. The average age is eighteen and a half years, none being admitted under fourteen. Some are able to pay all their expenses; most of them pay a portion and work out the remainder. Instead of there being any disinclina- tion to work, the difficulty is to supply work for all who clamor for it. During the first year two hundred acres of the present campus were pur- chased and the erection of Porter Hall was at once commenced. The com- pletion of this first building was the greatest event in the history of the school. This lone building answered for dormitory, class-rooms, office, din- ing-room, laundry and kitchen. The fare was very plain. A long table with oilcloth cover, cheap iron knives and forks, and the cheapest crockery cups and dishes were the proud possessions of this pioneer group of students and teachers. When the treasury was empty and there was need of fuel, the students would sally forth into the woods with axes and keep the wagons busy without any promise of pay. After that first building, others sprang up in rapid succession, not without BUILDING TIlL CHAPEL. 138 BOOKER WA SHING TON AND TUSKEGEE. hard struggle, but with more confi- dence. Alabama Hall, the second building, was begun with more preten- tious plans. A brick-yard was started and, a sufficient quantity of bricks hav- ing been manufactured by the stu- dents, the building was slowly erected by them; and not a lad but felt his spurs as the capstone was placed and the building was pointed out to visi- tors as a three-story structure erected by Negro boys. Altogether thirty- seven buildings have been erected during the sixteen years of the schools history. The two hundred acres of the original campus have been supple- mented by gift and purchase till there is now a total of two thousand four hundred and sixty acres belonging to the Institute. If in one solid tract it would give a campus of nearly four square miles. But Marshall Farm, the principal tract used for cultivation, is five miles distant, and Neshika Farm is ten miles away, while one farm is in Louisiana. The Tuskegee Institute was not open a month before an additional teacher was necessary, and Miss Olivia A. Davidson became assistant princi- pal. Mr. Washington always declares that the successful establishment of the school during the first five or six years was due more to Miss Davidson than to himself. During the organization of the school and in all matters of dis- cipline she was the one to bring order out of every difficulty. When the last effort had apparently been exhausted and it seemed that things must stop, she was the one to find a way out. Not only was this true at the school, but when a campaign for money had ended unsuccessfully, she would hie away North and money was sure to be found. Miss Davidson was teaching among her people near Memphis, Tennessee, when the yellow fever drove her away. She went to Hampton, entered the senior class and graduated the follow- ing spring. Through friends she was able to enter the Normal School at Framingham, Massachusetts, and graduated in the summer of i88i; and when an assistant at Tuskegee was called for, she accepted the work. Her enthusiasm had won the admiration of her schoolmates, and from them she received much assistance for her school in after years. In 1884 she became Mrs. Booker T. Washington, CLASS AT THE SAW MILL. BOOKER WASHINGTON AND TUSKEGEE. ~nd two wide-awake boys were born to them. After four years of married life she succumbed to the overtaxing duties of mother and assistant princi- pal of the school, and her ashes were laid to rest upon the school grounds amid the tears of teachers and stu- dents. Her words of caution, advice, sympathy and encouragement were given with a judgment that rarely made an error. Her life here has been so full of deeds, lessons and sugges- tions that she will live on to bless and help the institution xvhich she founded as long as it is a seat of learning. So reads the epitaph by her bereaved hus- band. At the opening of the second year two more teachers were needed, and Warren Logan and John H. Washing- ton, the brother of the principal, both graduates of Hampton, accepted the work. Mr. Logan taught several classes, kept books, led the choir and managed the printing omce, while Mr. Washington took charge of all industrial work. These two men have been from the beginning very important forces in the school management. As treasurer and superintend- ent of industries their responsibilities are heavy, and how much credit they deserve will not be fully known till the necessity arises some day to fill their places. They, with James N. Callo- way, a graduate of Fisk University, who is the business agent and the man- ager of IViarshall Farm, constitute the Finance Committee of the Institute, a sort of cabinet for the principal. There are now eighty-one instructors in the academic and industrial departments. The course of study at Tuskegee is as practical as possible. The students who come are miserably deficient in the use of English, and in hundreds of cases know nothing at all about Eng- lish grammar. Hence, in reading, spelling, grammar and language classes vigorous effort is made to open THE TUSKEGE HERD OF JERsEys THE tARN. up an understanding of good English. The students are more apt in arith- metic as a rule than in other studies. 140 BOOKER WASHINGTON AND TUSKEGEE. Perhaps the industrial system explains this. Geography and history are given as thoroughly as possible. Then with three months in physiology, civics, composition, bookkeeping and politi- cal economy, six months in physics, algebra, geometry and chemistry, and nine months in the theory and prac- tice of teaching, the student is gradu- ated, the full course covering seven years. No attempt is made to teach any classical or foreign language, but special emp basis is placed upon physi- cal sciences. To discipline carefully a thousand students is always a task; and when the necessity is added of assuming re- sponsibilities of training that are largely parental, involving systematic regulations for bathing, eating, sleep- ing, the use of the tooth-brush and general tidiness and care for health, the work is immeasurably greater. Military uniforms, drills and the discipline of the simple tac- tics have been found of great benefit to the stu- dents. Regular companies and battalions are or- ganized, and a commandant ex ercises strict con- trol. From the ris- ing bell at 5.40 A. M. till the bugle taps at 9.30 P. M., there-are duties as- signed, with short intermissions for play. The use of intoxicants or nar- cotics is forbidden. and the violator of the rule is sent home. In the Par- ker Model Home girls of the senior class are taught practical housekeeping. While the institution is strictly un- denominational, there being repre- sented in the board of trustees and the faculty several of the leading denomi- nations, the effort has always been to make it thoroughly and earnestly Christian. Not only is there a regular church service, but through various societies corresponding to those or- ganized in churches a live Christian spirit is to be observed at all times. There are now carried on the follow- ing industrial departments: agricul- ture, horticulture, carpentry, black- smithing, wheelwrighting, printing,. painting, plumbing, foundry and ma- chinery, shoe-making, brick-masonry, plastering, brick-making, saw mill, tin- ning, harness-making, tailoring, plain sewing, dressmaking, millinery, cook- visiToRs AT cOMMENcEMENT. IN THE PINEY wOODs. BOOKER WASHINGTON AND TUSKEGEE. 4 ing, laundry, nurse training, house- keeping and mechanical drawing. Aside from the indirect influences, there are two prime objects in carry- ing on each one of these industries, to furnish opportunity for poor but worthy students to work out a portion or all of their expenses in school, and to train young men and women so that they may become skilled leaders in the communities in which they go. The student who presents himself for ad- mission to one of the Southern schools brings with him an average of consid- erably less than twenty-five dollars. Were he required to pay cash for ex- penses, this amount would enable him to remain in school two or three months only; hence the necessity of extending the opportunity for such a student to supplement his cash in some way in order that he may remain in school long enough to do him some good. The Tuskegee method is to ex- tend this opportunity in the way of wages for work which has an eco- nomic value to the institution, and while doing this to accomplish the ad- ditional purpose of training young men and women in the directions rep- resented in our twenty-six industries. But are there not peculiar phases characterizing our present condition as a people? Have we not a problem more or less distinct from that of other races? In the first place, the habit of dependence still remains as a result of slavery; and in consequence of this there is a species of thriftlessness,not laziness, but disregard for the acquisi tion of property. It is also true that at least three-fourths of the race is en- gaged in agriculture, and as they do not as a rule own the land, there is the necessity of inducing them to become owners as a prime condition for inde- pendent moral life such as we hope to develop in our schools. In other words, moral and religious life must have an industrial foundation for growth. Emancipation brought to the Negro freedom of body, but not of soul. The terrible curse of human slavery could not be eradicated by a proclamation. Not only did slavery fail to school the race for freedom, but as a prime condition for its own con- tinuance it was necessary to stifle the signs of budding manhood wherever it was manifested, and the sponsors of the system met this condition with a vim. Hence there was a premium upon those who took no thought of the morrow. The results of two hundred and fifty years of this demoralizing work cannot be eradicated in a day, but must be met by the persistent ef- fort of those anxious to do the most for the race. How the Tuskegee Insti- tute is effecting results may be seen in the following example. A friend desiring to aid the race to get upon its feet, gave to Tuskegee Institute fifteen thousand dollars for the erection of a chapel. The design of the building was made in our own architectural and mechanical drawing- room, the one million two hundred thousand bricks were manufactured and put into the wall by our own boys, the wood for floors, windows, doors, etc., was cut from our own land, 142 BOOKER WASHINGTON AND TUSKEGEE. sawed in our own mill, prepared in our carpenter shop, and built into the structure by our own black boys. In the same way these have done the plas- tering, painting, tinning, slating and everything that enters into the construction of this chapel. While the boys were doing this, the girls were making, mending and laun- dering clothing, and cooking, so that the completion of this build- ing has meant the expenditure of about fifteen thousand dollars in wages to ambitious young men and women anxious to supplement the cash they were able to bring with them so as to remain in school during the nine months for during all the work on such a building each student spends a portion of his time in the class~- room and a portion at work. In the second place, as we have a skilled instructor in charge of each of the in- dustries represented, who looks care- fully not only to exact construction but at the same time takes every op- portunity to give instruction upon the principles and science of good work, a large number of students have re- ceived an education of the hand which has prepared them for various kinds of skilled labor and industrial leader- ship. In the third place, we have a large building for permanent use. Fourthly, the construction of such a A TENANTS HOME. building side by side with class-room work, the rapid interchange of spell- ing-book and saw, grammar and ham- mer, reader and lathe, history and hoe, has a tendency to do away with the prejudice against manual labor as not being as honorable as professional life. As a sort of corollary it may be ob- served that the presence of such a building completely constructed by the student themselves is an inspiration to a race of consumers to aspire more largely to the higher field of produc- tion. In this way more than thirty of our buildings have been erected, and much of our plant in the way of fences, wagons, harness, plows, carts and ma- chinery has been produced. At the same time we have supplied a large market with shoes, harness, wagons, etc., from our various de- partments. Agricultural work, how- ever, receives the greatest emphasis, for it is recog- nized that, inasmuch as this is the almost universal oc- cupation of the race, our duty is to fit leaders for it. During the present season there are six hundred and fifty acres under cultivation, of which two hundred and twenty-five acres are in corn, seventy acres in mo- lasses cane, fifty acres in sweet potatoes, one hun dred acres in cow peas BOOKER WASHINGTON AND TUSKEGEE. I43~ thirty acres in truck garden and one hundred and seventy-five acres in miscellaneous crops. Fifty acres of our grounds are now set out in grape vines and fruit trees, peach, pear, apple, etc. In view of the nature of the soil in many parts of Alabama, it is necessary to resort to some mechanical means to preserve the hillsides. It has been found that by terracing them their productiveness is increased many times and the task of fertilizing is rendered much easier. There is a total of two hundred and sixty-five head of horses, mules, oxen, cows, calves, hogs and sheep. Stock raising has not been attempted except on a small scale, but the school owns a blood- ed stallion through which the stock of the neighborhood is be- ing improved. The milch cows are of two or three distinct breeds,Jerseys and Holstein predominat- ing. Two fine breeds of hogs,Poland China and Berkshire, are kept up, and niany of the gradu- ates are organizing hog clubs and order- ing a blooded hog from Tuskegee to im- prove the hogs of their communities. A man who has spent a number of years in special study of agricultural science, princi- ples and methods, is at the head of instructing in this department. His method is first to get the stu- dents to observe closely the natu- ral conditions of soil, drainage, cli- mate and crops that are being grown by experienced farmers, then to see if by application of any simple helps tbe same crops may be improved at a financial advantage, and lastly to see if through experiments other crops may be introduced.. Of course it is understood that the success which one graduate may have in his neighbor- hood may not necessarily be looked for in every other; but if each can be impressed that there is something to be gained by close observation and constant experiment, we have the qualifications of a good farmer. In addition to this work among the stu- dents upon the grounds, our agricul- turist makes trips two or three times a week to various communities in the region for many miles around. The farmers collect in schoolhouses and churches, and talks are given upon the proper kinds of manures to apply, the proper times, the proper care and har- vesting of the crops, feeding of all kinds of live stock, how to purchase land, etc. Under the jurisdic- tion of the agricultu- ral department, the dairy is managed upon scientific princi- ples. With simple machinery, s e p ar a - tors, testers, etc., the product is a first-class butter. The gradu-~ ates from this depart- ment are much in de- mand. The truck garden now constitutes one of the chief features of the agricultural de- tical standpoint. partment from a prac- The school is too far south to need much in the way of hot- houses, but about one hundred yards of glass roof serve to produce radishes and lettuce in January and to start other crops with the first signs of spring. From this source the board- ing department receives a large supply of food. It has always been the effort of Tus-, kegee to extend its influence to the masses directly as far as possible. To this end the Commencement exercises have always been made as attractive as possible as well as instructive. The people have always flocked in great AN AMERICAN CITIZEN. 44 BOOKER WASHINGTON AND TUSKEGEE. numbers to these exercises and have been given the utmost freedom to go through the class-rooms, shops, halls, etc., so as to get impressions to take home with them. At such times the products of farm and shop are dis- played on every hand, and with the speeches of prominent orators, and orations and essays of graduates, the day is the greatest of all the year to thousands who come. In recent years another great occasion has arisen, the Tuskegee Negro Farmers Confer- ence. The last week in February is the usual time of this gathering, and it is now rivaling Commencement in popularity. When it was first organ- ized, invitations were sent out to about seventy-five farmers to come to Tus- kegee and talk over the hindrances to their progress. In response, about four hundred came, and the result was a revelation. It had not been sup- posed that so many practical ideas and methods could be found, and when the day was over all dispersed resolving to put to test the suggestions set forth. Simple plans and pictures of neat two or three-room cottages, that could be erected at small expense, to take the place of the wrecks of log cabins, were distributed, and at the close of the meeting a set of declarations, as fol- lows, was unanimously adopted: s. The seriousness of our condition lies in that, in the states where the colored people are most numerous, at least 90 per cent of them are in the country, they are difficult to reach, and but little is being done for them. Their industrial, educa- tional and moral condition is slowly im- proving, but among the masses there is still a great amount of poverty and ig- norance and much need of moral and religious training. 2. We urge all to buy land and to cultivate it thoroughly; to raise more food supplies; to build houses with more than one room; to tax themselves to build bet- ter school-houses, and to extend the term to at least six months; to give more at- tention to the character of our leaders, especially ministers and teachers; to keep out of debt; to avoid lawsuits; to treat our women better, and that conferences sim- ilar in aim to this one be held in every community where practicable. 3. More can be accomplished by going forward than by complaining. With all our advantages, nowhere is there afforded us such business opportunities as are af- forded in the South. We would discour- age the emigration agent. Self-respect will bring us many rights now denied us. Crime among us decreases as property in- creases.~~ These conferences have been re- peated annually, with increased inter- est among farmers and with larger at- tendance from visitors from all parts of the country. Instead of being mere auditors, the farmers on this day are the speakers; and many are the crude chunks of common sense dropped in these meetings. The day following each Farmers Conference, there is now held a Workers Conference, con- sisting of those engaged in the work of educating the colored people. Usually discussion is confined to points brought out the day before, and the testimony is usually one of rejoicing Two GENERATIONS. TAKiNG A REST. BOOKER WASHINGTON AND TUSKEGEE. 45 at a new vision of truth. About thirty schools were represented at the last Conference, among them Howard University, Hampton Institute, Fisk University, Atlanta University, the State Normal School, Talladega Col- lege, South Carolina College for Ne- groes, and many others. Two insti- tutions sent their senior classes, and many representatives of the press were ~n hand. Aside from the direct influence of the Tuskegee Institute, there are indi- rect influences most important in re- sults. An instance of this is the Ko- waliga School. Thirty-five miles from Tuskegee is a settlement of colored people, who own among them several thousand acres of land. Through ob- servation of the work at Tuskegee, they decided to improve their school. Securing an active young man as teacher, they have under his leadership contributed money, materials and labor to erect a ten-room schoolhouse. By perseverance they have in one year almost completed the structure. This they have done almost wholly-by their own efforts and the assistan~e 6f the white people of the community. There is a sort of social settlement work carried on around Tuskegee that is playing an important part in reach- ing the people. Teachers go out and lecture in churches on improvement of morals and proper care in family management. But perhaps the most important work of this kind is carried on under direction of Mrs. Booker T. Washington. Mrs. Washington, a graduate of Fisk University and lady principal of Tuskegee Institute till her marriage in October, 1892, is a woman of strong influence. As president of the National Association of Colored \Vomen, she has held a sympathetic touch with the women of her race in every state. It is, however, in the Tus- kegee Home that her thought and work are most largely concentrated. She not only finds time along with her family duties to carry on a correspond- ence with those who contribute schol- arships to the school, but in addition is foremost in the social settlement work of the vicinity. For special work among the women who come to town on Saturdays with their husbands, two rooms over a store have been rented. Two or three lady teachers and a few of the girl students assist in making these rooms very helpful to the old women and girls. In one a cooking- school is carried on, and in the other a model room is fitted up. Bureau and washstand have been constructed out of dry-goods boxes and covered with a cheap cloth to make them ornamen- tal. Sewing lessons are given and reg- ular talks on domestic subjects. The work has now been carried from Tus- kegee to a plantation several miles from Tuskegee. The planter has given the use of two cabins, one of which is fitted up as a model cabin, with sim- ple, inexpensive material, and the other is used as a school-room. In these and other ways a crusade of so- cial settlement work is being vigor- ously pushed. Another helpful influence at work is the Dizer Fund. This fund, estab- lished by a philanthropic gentleman and his wife, of Boston, for the pur- pose of helping the race to establish homes, amounts to six thousand five hundred dollars, and the Tuskegee Institute is trustee of its management. Loans are made at eight per cent in- terest (the income from this source going to the support of the Institute) to persons having land and wishing to erect cottages. Preference must be given to graduates and undergradu- ates of Tuskegee. Twenty persons have secured neat, comfortable homes in the short time of the existence of the fund. Each of the homes thus erected becomes an object lesson in the community, and it is difficult to estimate the far-reaching effect of such a fund. But after summing up the influences of the Tuskegee Institute and cata- loguing the visible results, is there not in the personality of Booker Wash- ington a success and power as influen- tial as the school itself? His life would BOOKER WASHINGTON AND TUSKEGEE. 45 at a new vision of truth. About thirty schools were represented at the last Conference, among them Howard University, Hampton Institute, Fisk University, Atlanta University, the State Normal School, Talladega Col- lege, South Carolina College for Ne- groes, and many others. Two insti- tutions sent their senior classes, and many representatives of the press were ~n hand. Aside from the direct influence of the Tuskegee Institute, there are indi- rect influences most important in re- sults. An instance of this is the Ko- waliga School. Thirty-five miles from Tuskegee is a settlement of colored people, who own among them several thousand acres of land. Through ob- servation of the work at Tuskegee, they decided to improve their school. Securing an active young man as teacher, they have under his leadership contributed money, materials and labor to erect a ten-room schoolhouse. By perseverance they have in one year almost completed the structure. This they have done almost wholly-by their own efforts and the assistan~e ~f the white people of the community. There is a sort of social settlement work carried on around Tuskegee that is playing an important part in reach- ing the people. Teachers go out and lecture in churches on improvement of morals and proper care in family management. But perhaps the most important work of this kind is carried on under direction of Mrs. Booker T. Washington. Mrs. Washington, a graduate of Fisk University and lady principal of Tuskegee Institute till her marriage in October, 1892, is a woman of strong influence. As president of the National Association of Colored Women, she has held a sympathetic touch with the women of her race in every state. It is, however, in the Tus- kegee Home that her thought and work are most largely concentrated. She not only finds time along with her family duties to carry on a correspond- ence with those who contribute schol- arships to the school, but in addition is foremost in the social settlement work of the vicinity. For special work among the women who come to town on Saturdays with their husbands, two rooms over a store have been rented. Two or three lady teachers and a few of the girl students assist in making these rooms very helpful to the old women and girls. In one a cooking- school is carried on, and in the other a model room is fitted up. Bureau and washstand have been constructed out of dry-goods boxes and covered with a cheap cloth to make them ornamen- tal. Sewing lessons are given and reg- ular talks on domestic subjects. The work has now been carried from Tus- kegee to a plantation several miles from Tuskegee. The planter has given the use of two cabins, one of which is fitted up as a model cabin, with sim- ple, inexpensive material, and tEe other is used as a school-room. In these and other xvays a crusade of so- cial settlement work is being vigor- ously pushed. Another helpful influence at work is the Dizer Fund. This fund, estab- lished by a philanthropic gentleman and his wife, of I3oston, for the pur- pose of helping the race to establish homes, amounts to six thousand five hundred dollars, and the Tuskegee Institute is trustee of its management. Loans are made at eight per cent in- terest (the income from this source going to the support of the Institute) to persons having land and wishing to erect cottages. Preference must be given to graduates and undergradu- ates of Tuskegee. Twenty persons have secured neat, comfortable homes in the short time of the existence of the fund. Each of the homes thus erected becomes an object lesson in the community, and it is difficult to estimate the far-reaching effect of such a fund. But after summing up the influences of the Tuskegee Institute and cata- lo gu ing the visible results, is there not in the personality of Booker Wash- ington a success and power as influen- tial as the school itself? His life would 146 BOOKER WASHINGTON AND TUSKEGEE. have been a success had he but shown the executive ability that has built up the Tuskegee Institute and superin- tended the duties of teachers and stu- dents. The large industrial plant is more difficult to handle than a factory xvith trained hands. Whatever may be true of colleges, universities and aca- demic schools, the industrial school must have a strong head. But the greatest strain on the principal of Tus- kegee has been the raising of money to meet expenses. About half of his time has been used in tramping from state to state and from door to door, begging funds. His surviving under this strain is believed by many to be only a question of time. As the school grows, the sum necessary to raise in- creases, amounting this year to about sixty-five thousand dollars. The fol- lowing is a statement for 1895-96: Receipts, $90,000, as follows: Individuals and organizations $63,000 Slater Fund 5,400 Peabody Fund 200 State of Alabama 3,000 Other sources i7403 Expenditures, annual current expenses, $60,000, as follows: Salaries of eighty-one teachers $29,ooo Food supplies 17,400 Miscellaneous items 5,000 General expense . 8,6oo Extri expense. new buildings, im provement of plant, etc 30,000 Fifty dollars pays for the education of one student for one year. Two hun- dred dollars enables a student to com- plete the course. One thousand dol- lars creates a permanent scholarship, paying for the education of one stu- dent for all time. The demand upon Mr. Washington in this later time for speeches has been so large that he finds it an im- mense labor to prepare them. Al- though a ready, off-hand speaker, he carefully prepares all addresses. His speech at the Atlanta Exposition was most warmly received throughout the country. President Cleveland wrote: I think the Exposition would be fully justified if it had not done more than furnish the opportunity for its deliv- ery. When, a few months later, Har- vard University conferred upon him the honorary degree of Master of Arts, his speech of acceptance was thought by many to have been one of the most impressive ever heard at Harvard forum. No less impressive was his recent address in Boston at the dedica- tion of the Shaw Memorial. Eloquent, earnest, modest, simple, devoted and practical, his thought always on the central need, Booker Washington, in all that he says and all that he does, is proving himself the most conspicuous and the wisest servant of his race.

146 BOOKER WASHINGTON AND TUSKEGEE. have been a success had he but shown the executive ability that has built up the Tuskegee Institute and superin- tended the duties of teachers and stu- dents. The large industrial plant is more difficult to handle than a factory xvith trained hands. Whatever may be true of colleges, universities and aca- demic schools, the industrial school must have a strong head. But the greatest strain on the principal of Tus- kegee has been the raising of money to meet expenses. About half of his time has been used in tramping from state to state and from door to door, begging funds. His surviving under this strain is believed by many to be only a question of time. As the school grows, the sum necessary to raise in- creases, amounting this year to about sixty-five thousand dollars. The fol- lowing is a statement for 1895-96: Receipts, $90,000, as follows: Individuals and organizations $63,000 Slater Fund 5,400 Peabody Fund 200 State of Alabama 3,000 Other sources i7403 Expenditures, annual current expenses, $60,000, as follows: Salaries of eighty-one teachers $29,ooo Food supplies 17,400 Miscellaneous items 5,000 General expense . 8,6oo Extri expense. new buildings, im provement of plant, etc 30,000 Fifty dollars pays for the education of one student for one year. Two hun- dred dollars enables a student to com- plete the course. One thousand dol- lars creates a permanent scholarship, paying for the education of one stu- dent for all time. The demand upon Mr. Washington in this later time for speeches has been so large that he finds it an im- mense labor to prepare them. Al- though a ready, off-hand speaker, he carefully prepares all addresses. His speech at the Atlanta Exposition was most warmly received throughout the country. President Cleveland wrote: I think the Exposition would be fully justified if it had not done more than furnish the opportunity for its deliv- ery. When, a few months later, Har- vard University conferred upon him the honorary degree of Master of Arts, his speech of acceptance was thought by many to have been one of the most impressive ever heard at Harvard forum. No less impressive was his recent address in Boston at the dedica- tion of the Shaw Memorial. Eloquent, earnest, modest, simple, devoted and practical, his thought always on the central need, Booker Washington, in all that he says and all that he does, is proving himself the most conspicuous and the wisest servant of his race. AN ISLANDERS LOVE. By Afary B. Starbuck. HERE she is; how gently and grace- fully she moves about the room! Now she has drawn the curtains, and I might as xvell light up and go over those accounts, for I cant see her shadow on this thick stuff that she has had at the windows this winter. I wonder if she ever thought of that. No, of course not. She doesnt know how many hours I spend here in the dusk waiting for the chance to see her if she happens to light the lamp before she draws the shades. I suppose she doesnt think of me at all now, not even unkindly, in spite of my harsh- ness and my desertion of her. She is too good ~and sweet and patient. She is only puzzled, but never resentful, when people are rough or unkind. She isnt like her fathers family,least of all like him. I wonder if she has ever missed me in these years. We had been friends so long, and she was so used to com- ing to me for counsel when she was disturbed by anything, I suppose her multiplying interests must have crowd- ed me out long ago, even if she wished to remember after that night. First, there were the preparations for the marriage; and then so many sorts of merry-makings among the young people and the endless relatives; then the sheep-shearing, which was finer than ever before; and at last they took that long journey to New Hampshire to visit some of the colonists from the Island, who wanted to see Drusilla.. When they came back there was all the excitement of furnishing the house where she should live while Louis was away; and shortly after the Rose sailed her boy was born. They say that a 147 !~5 baby is very absorbing to a woman. She hasnt had time to think back- ward, even if she wished to,and that isnt likely. It is nearly four years, and the Rose must be coming home. There have been no letters for six months, but the owners expect news soon, the last probably before the Rose herself will fly the blue-white-and-blue at the back of the bar. Perhaps that is why I am so sad to-night. I had hoped never to feel this dreadful weight again; but the agitation of the sea does not cease when the storm stops. I wish that I could see her once quite alone and hear her speak and call my name in th~..ol4, gentle way before he comes. I feel somehow disheartened, and my mind seems going over the old ground. Perhaps it is only because I am tired and so cant drive away the pictures of a struggle that is over for- ever. Yet I cant help asking myself if I really can bear to stay right on here after he comes back. I know that I shall, that is settled; but to- night memories keep pressing in of that first year, and my heart almost fails me. Yes, it may be because I am so tired. Once only before he went away I saw them together. She was quite close to me and I did not speak. How could I? I had burned my bridges recklessly, and between us there was a chasm never to be crossed. As I turned the corner that sunny afternoon and saw them coming to- gether down the long, narrow street, my first impulse was to go back; but they had seen me, and it was too late; so I stood still with my head bowed and waited as if for a funeral proces- sion to pass. I saw plainly enough, however, that she looked at me, with that delicate, proud poise of the chin, AN ISLANDERS LOVE. 49 hung about her devotedly ever since we had trudged down New Dollar Lane together, when she was hardly more than a baby. With our little rattan lunch baskets on one arm, my green baize book-bag slung over my shoulder, and Drusillas confiding lit- tle hand in mine, I used to swing along as happy as a king and with a much greater sense of responsibility, Im sure, until I had left Drusilla safe at Deborah Greens cent-school, when I went on to Catherine Bassetts Pri- mary,for I was five years older than Drusilla. After I had finished the High School course and was a clerk in the Custom House, and Drusilla was lead- ing her class at Friend Dorcas Gayers Seminary and almost ready for grad- uationthough they didnt call it by that nameLouis Acker came to the Island. Captain Sandsbury brought him home when the old Hero came back from her last voyage. The Cap- tain said that he had picked up Louis, the captain and first mate in an open boat, and just in the nick of time, too, for they had been for three days with- out food or water; one sailor had died from exposure. So far as they knew they were the only survivors from an English ship bound to Liverpool from St. Helena, where Louis was born. The ship had sprung a leak two days out, during a terrible storm, and then a fire suddenly broke out, which they found must have been smoldering for several days. There was nothing to do but take to the boats, which were lowered with all speed; but they were swamped almost as soon as launched. Louiss father and mother were swept away before his eyes by the sea which broke over the boat just as he was be- ing lowered into it. He finally got away in the Captains boat, the last to leave the ship,and fate and Captain Sandsbury brought him to us; and here he seemed contented to stay. Louis said that his father was English, that he had just sold out his business at St. Helena and was taking his wife and son home to England, where he proposed to spend the rest of his life; but Louis seemed to feel no drawing for his English relatives whom he had never seen, and so he decided to stay and take his chance in America, though it had happened that he had been landed upon the one part of the new world, which was still only a bit of transplanted England, as yet but slightly modified by the new condi- tions. It was owing perhaps to his English blood that he took so readily to our ways; and in a very short time, so far as his daily life xvent, he might have been one of us. He had with him a packet of papers which would prove his identity in England. They had been given him as they left St. Helena by his father, who with an apparent premonition of what v~as to come had begged him to keep them always about his person until they should arrive in England: He had, too, some money, a good deal of it, in fact, sewed into a canvas belt such as sailors soirietimes wear in case of accident,though my fathers, I re- member, eight inches wide and thick with twenty-dollar gold-pieces sewed between the two canvases, would have sunk the ablest swimmer in smooth water in about four minutes. When Louis first came he was about twenty, and a handsome fellow, too, tall and strong, but lithe and quick in his motions and having about him a mysterious something entirely differ- ent from the rest of us. He had black, curly hair and a brilliant color in his dark cheeks, and large, black eyes, usually half closed by the thick lids while our Island eyes are open and frank. Once in a while Louis opened his wide, and then pupil and iris seemed all one color, a curious, murky black, with a sort of red light lurking somewhere. I never liked that red light. He and I became comrades at once, for there was a fascination about him to which I yielded an instant sub- mission; but so far as that went, almost everyone else did the same, especially the girls,though I used to think that Drusilla rather avoided him; but that AN ISLANDERS LOVE. only seemed to spur him on, and pretty soon I decided that Drusilla was the chief cause of his contentment in this strange land, a far-off fragment of the world. She was the most beautiful girl on the Island, as she is now the most beautiful woman, and she was the most beloved, too. I never knew anyone to dislike Drusilla, except her own father in his bad moods; but he never liked anything right along but his own tyrannical way. About two years after Louis came we went on a short whaling voyage together with Uncle Jephtha Gardner in his ship the Islander. We were unusu- ally lucky, and came home in two years with a full cargo. That was enough for me. I didnt take to a sea-faring life like most of my kin. But Louis seemed to revel in the roughness and excitement; indeed, it was his coaxing that had persuaded me to try it for once. It was rather queer that in talking over the people at home we never mentioned Din- silla1s name, though I suppose she was rarely out of our thoughts; I can speak with certainty for myself. If it had not been evident before we \vent on this voyage, it was conceded by everyone soon after our return that Drusilla would marry one of us; grad- ually her other lovers drew off and left the coast clear for us two. Probably I had the sympathy of the town, in spite of Louiss popularity; for we are a clannish set, and deep down in our hearts is a jealous distrust of a for- eigner, however admirable or likable he may appear to be, and more espe- cially when, as in the case of Louis Acker, he comes from a doubtful re- gion like St. Helena. So things went on smoothly. I liked and trusted Louis, and I think that he liked and trusted me. Of course we knew that she couldnt marry both of us; but farther than that or more definitely I dont suppose either of us cared or, possibly, dared to look. She was still so young, and we were all so happy, we could wait. And then the crisis came. At first after the trouble fell upon me, there was a rigid, stony condition, and pres- ently there was something worse, a helplessness and hopelessness like that of a paralytic, and then, worst of all, this awful hatred for Louis. I wres- tled with it, but in vain. I could hardly think of anything else; but I tried, oh, I did try, to overcome it. Sometimes along through the sec- ond winter I used to speak of the mat- ter to Cousin Simeon, one of the Over- seers of the Friends Meeting, of which I am a birthright member; for it was my great desire to look at things in the right light. I knew that somehow I had lost my bearings, and in my grief and confusion I turned to Cousin Simeon as one most likely to help me; for I had heard that in his early life many trials had befallen him, an~1 that he had weathered them successfully nobody could doubt who looked into the strong old face and saw the light in the steadfast eyes. But it is hard to prescribe remedies for anothers woes, and he could only tell me that I must submit quietly since it Was the will of God that I should be so afflicted. That didnt do me much good, because I had gone as far as that by myself, and besides I didnt know which troubled me most, the loss of Drusilla or my hatred of Louis. I think the latter was in my mind most. It was one day towards spring,I remember that I had heard the creak- ing notes of the first blackbird that morning. I remember, too, that I had seen Drusillas boy for the first time; he was about a year old then, and his grandmother had him in her arms, and she made me stop in the street and look at him. I know that Drusillas mother would have been glad if I could have been her son, and that was one reason why it was hard to stop and speak to the little boy; but I feel different now, and I like to think of her friendliness. Well, that even- ing I was looking over a trunk that had come to me from France just after Drusillas marriage; but I couldnt at- AN ISLANDERS LOVE. 5 tend to anything then but my own in- ward tumult, so the trunk was put up in our garret, and it was not until I was moving over here that I thought of it again. It had belonged to my Uncle Reuben, who was in the mer- chant service. When he arrived at Havre on his last voyage, he became seriously ill, and died there, and this trunk was sent to me according to his request. It had all sorts of things in it; but I want just to speak of one that I found that night among his papers. It was a curiously bound little book with a cover of soft kid. It was printed in English, though the authors name seemed French. My uncles name was inside, and another also, Marie Fiddle; and the date under these two names was many years ago when my uncle first began to make voyages to Havre. Afterwards I showed the book to Cousin Simeon, who said that he didnt know much about it, except that it was a Roman Catholic book, as indeed anybody might see by the pop- ish ornaments on the cover. There was a gilt cross and some letters and queer designs in the corners. He hardly thought that it would do me any good to read it, especially since it had evidently belonged to a French- woman; he had always understood that most of them were very wicked, and if not they were at least very friv- olous and worldly. He said that he was surprised that my uncle should have had any dealings with such a daughter of Babylon, for he was a man of great probity; and in any case it seemed strange that Uncle Reuben had never mentioned the matter to him. Perhaps he had done some ser- vice for the poor thing, and could not refuse a gift prQmpted by gratitude; and then Cousin Simeon observed thoughtfully that Uncle Reuben never said much about his various benefac- tions. However, I did read the book; in fact, I had read a good deal of it be- fore I showed it to Cousin Simeon, for when I first opened it that spring night I found many marks and notes on the margin that showed how care- fully Uncle Reuben had read it,and I, too, knew and trusted his probity. I must say that if it is a Roman Cath- olic book it is wonderfully well suited to the needs of a Quaker heart. Now this is almost the first sentence that I read: From Me hath this proceeded; this hath happened by My permission, that the thoughts of many hearts might be revealed. I was somehow at- tracted by these words, which seemed to me like a sort of message, and I thought: Why, here is really a rea- son, a plain, practical reason for things happening; but I wondered why he didnt add and the thoughts of our own hearts most of all, for I was still brooding over that great discov- ery of mine and my ipability to deal with it. Then, as the pages slipped through my fingers, again one line stood out distinctly from the rest: Occasions do not make a man frail; they only show what he is. It was in my heart, then, all the time and I had not known. Life was very perplexing. I thought a long time that night, and I wondered if ever anybody before had been so astounded at a revelation of himself. I thought, too, of what I had learned of other hearts; for on looking back I could see how different people seemed to me from what they did be- fore,and most of all Cousin Simeon. What a life-long, patient endurance, that had never apparently been con- sidered by himself, was shown me, as he had tried to comfort me by telling so simply of some of his own great straits! People had guessed at Cousin Simeons trials, but the extent of them was never suspected. How had he kept that sweet, affectionate nature, that in spite of myself had warmed and supported me through my struggles? Then I thought of the great surprise of Drusillas choice; for I found that it was a surprise after all! Was it strange to anybody else? What did that look mean on Louiss face? Here I stopped, baffled. At any rate, I found much food for reflection and 152 AN ISLANDERS LOVE. much comfort in the little book, though it has never thrown any light on what I said to Louis that night. Lately it has seemed as if it must have happened ages ago, in another exist- ence almost; for I do not feel now that I am any part of what I was then. We had, for a most unusual circum- stance, gone to see Drusilla on the same night, and had knocked and been admitted by her father, one just after the other. I found Louis standing before the fire in the parlor. Our greetings were cordial, though tinged with a mutual surprise, and they were hardly over, with a casual reference to the howling storm outside, when the sitting-room door was flung open, and Drusillas father appeared, purple with rage, and dragging Drusilla by the wrist. She, poor, white lily, was hardly able to keep her footing, as she looked appealingly at each of us in turn. Before we could move a step her father roared: Im tired of this shilly-shally. Choose one of them now, no fooling, and set the other adrift! Lets have done with this Jezebel work! Poor Drusilla! Could she have had any doubt about my feeling, that she looked at me, then dropped her eyes and seemed to hesitate, while her mother, wringing her hands, stood crying in the doorway: Oh, dont hurry the child, she isnt ready. Im ready! shouted the old man, as he gave her a push that sent her towards Louis. Why did I not reach out my arms to her, as I longed to do, and as Louis did? Would it have made any difference? Surely she knew that all the love a man could feel was mine for her. But she must choose with no urgency from me. As her oldest friend and devoted lover, I would have her choose freely. My heart was burst- ing, and I ceased to breathe; but I would not help her if to help was to influence her choice. Let her make that of her own will first. She took a step towards me, looked at me timidly, doubtfully; then, as I made no sign, she staggered across the room to Louis, who had dropped on his knees, his arms still extended and his great eyes wide and bright enough now, fixed on her as they had been since the door was flung open. I was right then! When she turned first to me it was only the old, girlish impulse of cominz to me for comfort when her father raged. Her ques- tioning glance had only been for as- sent to what she was about to do. I was her good friend and guardian, but it was Louis that she loved. Yes, I was right, I would go. Vaguely and blindly perceiving all this, I turned to go out quietly, though I knew that I had no words to say when I should pass them on mywayto the door. What stopped me in front of them then? Was it that look in Louiss face, that glow of red light as his eyes met mine? What impelled me to say in a voice which even then sounded strange to my own ears: Yes, she is yours, but only for a short time; for you shall die, you shall die in your shoes, and no tears shall fall over your grave ! Then I rushed out into the storm; and I knew nothing more until I found myself ploughing through the heavy sand of the dunes, with the booming of the surf in my ears, and saw the lights of the town two miles across the bleak commons. It was past midnight when I got home, my clothing stiff with sleet, though I dont remember feeling any discomfort. Aunt Rachel never locked the doors, so I crept up to my room and soon fell into the heavy sleep of exhaustion. When I awoke it was to a blankness of mind and soul. I moved about as if asleep. I could not have told at any mofrient what I was doing or what I should do next; but I went to the office, and somehow man- aged to get through the duties of the day. I was again in the Custom House, indeed, I myself was Collec- tor of the Port, with twb clerks to help me. After a while my mind began to AN ISLANDERS LOVE. 53 work again, but as if it were some- thing quite apart from me; and I sometimes watched myself as a para- lytic might watch the movements of a servant. This numbness of spirit lasted a good deal longer, until per- haps the violence of the shock wore off sufficiently for a reaction to set in; and with that awakening came that intense enmity towards Louis and the struggle with my own heart. The winter after the Rose sailed Aunt Rachel died, and our house was closed, and I came to live with Cousin Lydia, who was good enough to offer me her spare chamber. I had thought of going to sea again; but the life is so distasteful to me, and Cousin Lydia urged her loneliness, and besides 1 had read in the little foreign book: By flight alone ye shall not over- come; but by patience and true humil- ity ye shall become stronger than all your enemies.~~ It has taken great patience, and I have surely learned humility, for the fight was a long one. I dont know whether it has helped or hindered me to be so near her, but I think it has helped. To be conscious of the near- ness of anything so good as she cannot fail to strengthen if we are honestly trying to be true. I have watched through every twilight until her shades were drawn, and then I have often watched to see her shadow on the curtain. I have never spoken to her in all these years. I wonder what Louis will say when he hears that? Cousin Lydia told me that he didnt like the idea of leaving her in the same town. with me, and wanted her to live in Boston; but Drusilla begged to stay near her mother. She said that she knew she should never meet me, for he could see for himself how I avoided her and that I never joined now-a- days in the merry-makings of the v oung people. So she finally had her way. He had hoped to take her with him if the captains wife had gone; but that plan fell through, Im glad to say. Drusilla would never have lived Through a Cape Horn voyage. I am as regular as the town clock about going to my office. Sundays after meeting I take a walk with Cous- in Simeon if it is pleasant; and if it isnt, he comes here to take tea with us. Evenings, after Drusillas lamp is lighted, I read and think; and then when most people are abed I go for a walk on the cliff. It is good to be alone under the stars. It is strange how suddenly my evil spirit ceased to trouble me, and my hatred of Louis died away. Now that I think of it, it was just six months ago. It was Cousin Lydias birthday, and Cousin Simeon had come to sup- per and had brought her a tea-rose bush all in bloom. It was the day the report from the Rose and the letters had been brought by Captain Pink- ham of the Three Brothers. I had heard it all in the captains room, when I stopped on my way home to supper. I remember that I sat late that night looking into the fire after Cousin Sim- eon had gone, and wondering if I should have control enough by the time the Rose came home to meet Louis frankly, tell him that I wasnt myself that night, and that I was glad of his luck in everything; when all at once I felt: Why, I shall not need control to say that. Of course Im glad for Louis, glad that he can make Drusilla happy. He was one of my dearest friends. How has he failed me? We will be friends again, all three, as we used. Perhaps Drusilla does not need me now in her life; but I need her in mine, and I need not love her less, but more, on that ac- count. There is no law against loving anybody; indeed, we are bidden to love each other. It is only the selfishness that claims something in return that is harmful and forbidden. And again the Frenchwomans little book came into my mind: For in whatever in- stance a person seeketh himself, there he falleth from love. How clear it all was! It was just my selfish wish to own Drusilla myself that had made all my misery. I had sought myself, and I had fallen from love! But I can 54 AN ISLANDERS LOVE. begin all over. I xviii love Drusilla and the boy and Louis, and we will take up the old friendship again, if they are willing, and the many inter- ests that we had in common. Surely Louis will trust me. So the vision of the future opened full of promise; and ever since then a cheerful serenity has filled my heart, disturbed only by mo- ments of doubt like to-night. I will not see Drusilla until Louis comes. I will see him first, and make him understand that I am the same and yet not at all the same old friend that he used to know and love. Sup- pose, though, when the trial comes, that I fail that the hatred groxvs again? Well, I can but try. I know now what is right and true,and if he comes and I am not ready, I will go away and stay until I am. Spooner of the Rose coming slowly up the street, very sloxvly for a man just home from a Gape Horn voyage, who knows that a pretty wife is xvaiting with a happy welcome. Strange, I thought, that Louis isnt with him, stranger still that he stops at Dru- sillas! Perhaps, though, there is some little matter to be attended to be- fore Louis can come ashore. The captain stayed a rather long time, I thought, and when he came out he looked more serious than before. Can Louis be sick? Soon, still watching, I saw Drusillas mother hurrying along with a shawl over her head. How many times, I thought, have I heard Drusilla remon- strate with her mother about that habit of catching up a shawl and running out with it thrown over her head. * * * * * * After she went in, the blinds were all closed by Drusillas little maid. Then her father and Aunt Eunice came hob- bling along; and then I couldnt wait any longer, for a horrible thought had come to me,and I rushed down the street to hear what I already knew. Louis is dead! And strangest, most mysterious of all, he died on the very night that I remember my change of feeling towards him. He was aloft, and the ship was pitching heavily; and whether in the darkness he missed his * * * * * * footing, or a sudden lurch of the ship flung him, he fell to the deck and was instantly killed. They buried him at sea. Dead! and in his shoes! Did I murder him with my prophecy? Did I wish him dead? No, oh, no! I had loved him; and at that moment I had no power to wish, to think. I was as one dead myself, and the words I spoke came not from my brain, not of my will. Whose were they? Why did I say them? The Pizarro came in this afternoon, and the Rose cannot be far behind. Captain Swain says that they might raise her from the tower at any min- ute. Theres Drusilla now up on the walk with a spy-glass! My heart be- gan to beat wildly when I met Captain Swain; but it quieted immediately, and I am almost as impatient as Dru- silla for the Roses blue-white-and- blue. The Rose was sighted this morning at daylight. I heard the town-crier as he stopped to pound on Drusillas door and shouted his news, and then ran on to tell the captains wife and get his dollar. As soon as breakfast, I stationed myself behind the blind to watch. It was Sunday, and I had nothing to call me out, and I could not go down to meet all sorts of peo- ple. My interest is with Louis alone. He was sent into my life; he shall stay if he will, and be made welcome,but he must hear first from Drusilla that not once in all these long years has she seen my face or heard my voice. * * * * * * About eleven oclock I saw Captain * * * * * * It is three weeks since the Rose came in. I have of course not seen Drusilla. How could I see her? Her mother has told me lately that she had never held me responsible for those AUTUMN BIRDS OF NEW ENGLAND. 55 cruel words, and that she had always grieved for the broken friendship, and had meant when Louis came I cannot stay here; something drives me away, and again I follow an Un- known leading. To-morrow I sail for China with Cousin John. Perhaps in a year I may come back. And then? Then there will be, I am sure, a light to lead. By !47iZliam Everett Cram. THE southern movement of the birds begins to be noticeable in August, or even earlier, and like the falling of prematurely yellow wil- low leaves at mid-summer serves to re- mind us of the approach of autumn. But there is little of the true migratory nature about this first uneasy shifting of families and scat- tered flocks from place to place, the general movement at this season being to- wards the sea-coast or any large body of water, without much regard to the points of the compass. Comparatively few birds are content to remain in the neighborhood after they have learned to fly, though the immediate arrival of others of their species is likely to make their going less