Full text of "The Granite monthly, a New Hampshire magazine, devoted to literature, history, and state progress"

F. S. Crawford,
BIN DE R, ,

CONCORD, N. H.

»y>i

THE

GRANITE MONTHLY,

ew Hampshire Magazine.

DK VOTED TO

I<itei c atiire, History, ai\d State f^ogfej^

VOLUME T^ATO.

CONCORD, N. H. :
IK. H. METCALF, PUBLISHER.

1879.

■GrlS

974.2
G759

v.£

THE

GKANITE MONTHLY.

A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, HISTORY AND
STATE PROGRESS.

VOL. II.

JULY, 1878.

NO. 1,

THE SENATE AND ITS PRESIDENTS— HON DAVID H. BUFFUM.

While the New Hampshire House of
Representatives is the largest legislative
body in the country, our State Senate is,
with one or two exceptions, the smallest.
The amendment to the Constitution re-
cently adopted, which is to go into effect
the coming autumn, however, makes a
marked change in this regard, for, while
reducing somewhat the number of Rep-
resentatives, it doubles the number of
Senators, placing our own upon at least
an average footing with the Senates of
other States throughout the Union.

Notwithstanding its comparative insig-
nificance in point of numbers, the New
Hampshire Senate has ever maintained
an enviable reputation as an able, patri-
otic and eminently conservative legisla-
tive body. This is due largely, without
doubt, to the fact that the office of State
Senator has generally sought the man
rather than the man the office. Dema-
gogues and aspirants for popular favor,
as well as active partisan leaders, have
usually preferred seats in the House of
Representatives, where as leaders of
men and masters, or murderers, of rhet-
oric they have greater opportunity for
achieving distinction or notoriety. It is
true that it has been often alleged that
the Senate of our State is a dangerous

body, being easily corrupted or control-
led, on account of the small number of
members. This allegation, however, is
an unjustifiable or inconsiderate one.
When men's favorite measures are defeat-
ed, they are wont to cry out "corrup-
tion," or to allege other than patriotic
motives as actuating those who caused
their discomfiture, and it will generally
be found that those who have charged
the Senate with corrupt or improper ac-
tion, have failed to secure at the hands of
that body the passage or the defeat of
some measure particularly affecting their
own interests. The truth is, there is far
more danger of bad legislation at the
hands of a large and unwieldly body like
our House of Representatives, than from
a comparatively small body like the Sen-
ate. In the former a shrewd political
leader or designing demagague, through
his personal influence over numerous fol-
lowers may readily secure the passage of
an unwise act, which, in the latter, where
such a thing as leadership is seldom
known or attempted, and each individual
member, as a general rule, acts and thinks
for himself, could never have been car-
ried through. The Senate, therefore, ex-
ercising its conservative power, through
amendment or rejection, has protected

THE SENATE AND ITS PRESIDENTS— HON. DAVID H. BUFFUM.

the people from ill advised and even dan-
gerous legislation, to a greater or less ex-
tent every year.

While the task of presiding over the
deli b( rations of the Senate is far less dif-
ficult and laborious than that devolving
upon the Speaker of the House, the posi-
tion is, nevertheless, one of honor and
distinction, and has been occupied by
many illustrious citizens of the State.
Sixty-two persons, in all, have holden
the office of President of the Senate dur-
ing the eighty-five years since the adop-
tion of the Constitution of 1792. Fol-
lowing are their names, with their sever-
al places of residence and years of ser-
vice :

Abiel Foster, Canterbury — 1793 ; Oliver
Peabody, Exeter — 1794 ; Ebenezer Smith,
Meredith— 1795-6; Amos Shepard, Al-
stead— 1794 to 1S03, inclusive; Nicholas
Gilman, Exeter— 1804 ; Clement Storer,
Portsmouth, 1805-6; Samuel Bell, Fran-
ce stown— 1807-8; Moses P. Payson, Bath
—1809; Wm. Plumer, Epping— 1810-11 ;
Joshua Darling, Henniker— 1812 ; Oliver
Peabody, Exeter— 1813 ; Moses P. Pay-
son, 1814-15; William Badger, Gilman-
ton — 1816; Jonathan Harvey, Sutton —
1817 to 1822, inclusive; David L. Morrill,
Gotfstown — 1823 ; Josiah Bartlett, Strat-
ham— 1824; Matthew Harvey, Hopkin-
ton— 1825-0-7 ; Nahum Parker, Fitzwil-
liaua — 1828; Abner Greenleaf, Ports-
mouth, and Samuel Cartland, Haverhill —
1S29 ; Joseph M. Harper, Canterbury —
1830; Samuel Cartland, Haverhill, and
Benning M. Bean, Moultonborongh—
1831; Benning M. Bean, 1832; Jared W.
Williams, Lancaster — 1833-4; Charles F.
Gove, Goffstown— 1835; James Clark,
Franklin— 1836; John Woodbury, Salem
—1837; Samuel Jones, Bradford— 1838;
James M. Wilkins, Bedford— 1839; James
B. Creighton, Newmarket — 1840; Josiah
Quincy, Bumncy — 1841-2; Titus Brown,
Francestown — 1843; Timothy Hoskins,
Westmoreland — 1844 ; Asa P. Cate,
Northfield— 1845 ; James U. Parker, Man-
chester— 1846 ; Harry Hibbard, Bath—
1S47-8; William P. Weeks, Canaan—
1849; Richard Jenness, Portsmouth —
1850; John S. Wells, Exeter— 1851-2 ;
James M. Rix, Lancaster — 1853 ; Jona-

than E. Sargent, Wentworth— 1854; Wil-
liam Haile, Hinsdale — 1S55; Thomas J.
Melvin, Chester — 1S56 ; Moody Currier,
Manchester — 1857; Austin F. Pike,
Franklin — 1858 ; Joseph A. Gilmore, Con-
cord — 1859; GeorgeS. Towle, Lebanon
— 1860; Herman Foster, Manchester —
1861 ; W. H. Y. Hackett, Portsmouth—
1862; Onslow Stearns, Concord— 1863 ;
Charles H. Bell, Exeter— 1864; Ezekiel

A. Straw, Manchester — 1S65; Daniel
Barnard, Franklin— 1866; Wm. T. Par-
ker, Merrimack — 1867 ; Ezra A. Stevens,
Portsmouth — 1S68; John Y. Mugridge,
Concord — 1869; Nathaniel Gordon, Exe-
ter— 1870; G. W. M. Pitman, Bartlett—
1871; Charles H. Campbell, Nashua —
1872; David A. Warde, Concord— 1873 ;
Wm. H. Gove, Weare— 1874; John W.
Sanborn, Wakefield— 1875; Charles Hol-
man, Nashua — 1876; Natt Head, Hook-
sett— 1877; David H. Buffum, Somers-
worth— 1878.

Of this list, eleven also held the office
of Speaker of the House of Representa-
tives, viz : William Plumer, Samuel Bell,
Clement Storer, David L. Morrill, Mat-
thew Harvey, John S. Wells, Harry Hib-
bard, Jonathan E. Sargent, Charles H.
Bell, Austin F. Pike and William H.
Gove. Of these eleven, three, only, are
now living— Messrs. Sargent, Bell and
Pike, and the two former are members of
the present House. Twelve of the num-
ber held seats in the national House of
Representatives, of whom Austin F. Pike
is the only one now living; seven were
members of the United States Senate,
none of whom survive; and ten were
Governors of New Hampshire, viz: Wil-
liam Plumer, Samuel Bell, David L. Mor-
rill, Matthew Harvey, William Badger,
Jared W. Williams, William Haile, Jo-
seph A. Gilmore, Onslow Stearns and
Ezekiel A. Straw, of whom the two last
only are living at the present time. Of
the entire sixty-two, twenty-two are now
living, the oldest survivor being James

B. Creighton of Newmarket, who was
President of the Senate in 1840.

In considering the list with reference
to localities, we find that of the several
counties, or the towns composing them,
Rockingham has furnished fifteen of the

THE SENATE ANT) ITS PRESIDENTS— HON. DAVID H. BUFFUM.

HON. DAVID H. BUFFUM.

entire number, and Merrimack also fif-
teen ; Hillsborough has furnished thir-
teen, Grafton seven, Cheshire four,
Carroll three, and Belknap and Coos two
each, while Sullivan has furnished none.
Of the fifteen from Rockingham, five
each were furnished by Portsmouth and
Exeter. Concord has supplied four,
Manchester four and Nashua two, but
Dover has never had a President of the
Senate, nor has District No. Five in which
it is embraced, including the main por-
tion of Strafford County, as now consti-
tuted, until the election of Hon. David
H. Buff urn of Somersworth, the present
year. While a large proportion and per-
haps a majority of those who have held
the office of President of the Senate have
been members of the legal profession,
the Senate has usually contained among
its members a large comparative repre-
sentation of the business men of the
State. A few clergymen, and physicians
— Rev. Abiel Foster, a distinguished pat-
riot and member of the Continental Con-
gress, and Josiah Bartlett and Joseph M.
Harper, both subsequently members of

Congress, the former a clergyman and
the two latter physicians, being among
the number — have held seats in this body,
but it has generally numbered more busi-
ness men— merchants, manufacturers, etc.,
than representatives of the professions.
To this fact, perhaps, may be attributed
in large degree, the practical and conser-
vative tendency of the Senatorial body
in the work of legislation.

The present Senate contains one phy-
sician — Dr. Gallinger of Concord, (Dis-
trict No. Four,) three lawyers — Messrs.
Cogswell of Gilmanton (No. 6,) White of
Peterborough, (No. 8,) and Weeks of
Canaan. (No. 11,) one farmer — Mr. Phil-
brick of Rye, (No. 1,) while the remain-
ing seven are all business men, Messrs.
Wheeler of Salem (No. 2,) Buflum of
Somersworth (No. 5,) and Amidon of
Hinsdale (No. 9,) being manufacturers,
Mr. Slayton of Manchester (No. 3,) a
merchant, Mr. Spalding of Nashua (No.
7,) a bank cashier, Mr. Shaw of Leba-
non (No. 10,) a contractor, and Mr.
Cummings of Lisbon (No. 12,) a mer-
chant and manufacturer. The President,

4 THE SENATE AND ITS PRESIDENTS— HON. DAVID H. BUFFUM.

therefore, is a representative of the dom-
inant class, as well as of the political ma-
jority in the body over which he presides.

Hon. David H. Buffum, President of
the Senate, whose portrait accompanies
this article, is a native of the State of
Maine, which State, by the way, has con-
tributed comparatively few to the list of
the public men of New Hampshire, al-
though on our part we have furnished
Maine several of her ablest and most dis-
tinguished citizens, including Fessenden,
Clifford, Cutting, Plaisted, and others of
both State and National reputation. Mr.
Buffum was born in North Berwick, No-
vember 10, 1820, being now fifty-seven
years of age. He was the eldest child
and only son of Timothy and Anna (Aus-
tin) Buffum. His father died when he
was only six years of age, leaving his
mother— a daughter of Nathaniel Austin
of Dover Neck — with very little proper-
ty and three small children, there being
two daughters, younger than himself,
both of whom are now living, one being
the widow of the late John H. Burleigh
of South Berwick, and the other the wife
of Isaac P. Evans of Richmond, Ind.
After his father's decease, he was taken
into the family of an uncle, Benajah Buf-
fum, with whom he remained until he
was seventeen years of age, engaged for
the larger portion of the time in a coun-
try store, of which his uncle was the pro-
prietor, and where he laid the foundation
for his subsequent eminently successful
business career. His educational advanta-
ges up to this time, were only such as
were afforded by the common school ;
but of these he had made the best possi-
ble use.

When he was seventeen years of age,
his uncle sold out and went to Lynn,
Mass., where he engaged in business.
He accompanied his uncle, but remained
with him but a few months, returning to
his native place, where he made his home
for a time with his step-father, Mr. Wm.
Hussey— his mother having married a
second time. He attended the fall term
of South Berwick Academy the follow-
ing autumn, and in the winter, being
then eighteen years old , taught a district
school in North Berwick. In the spring

following he again attended the Acade-
my. He had commenced teaching again
the next autumn, but left his school to
accept a position as clerk in the general
store of William and Hiram Hanson in
the village of Great Falls, Somersworth,
which place has ever since been his home.
He remained in the employ of the Han-
son's about two years, when, being then
twenty-one years of age, he bought the
interest of William Hanson in the store
and went into partnership with Hiram,
under the firm name of Hanson & Buf-
fum. Two years later the partnership
was dissolved, and Mr. Buffum commenc-
ed the erection of the large brick block,
known as Buffum's Block, upon the op-
posite side of High street from the old
stand. This block contained three stores,
one of which Mr. Buffum occupied him-
self, in the same business in which he had
been engaged, until March, 1847, when
he disposed of the business to attend to
his duties as cashier of the Great Falls
Bank, to which position he was chosen
the previous year, and which he held for
a term of seventeen years, until 1863,
having also for six years been treasurer
of the Somersworth Savings Bank. In
1863, Mr. Buffum resigned as cashier and
treasurer of the banks, to take the man-
agement of the Great Falls Woolen Mill,
a corporation which he had been chiefly
instrumental in organizing, and whose
manufactory had been commenced the
previous year, under a joint stock ar-
rangement. He held the position ©f
agent, treasurer and general manager of
the corporation for ten years, devoting
himself untiringly to the business, which
he conducted with great success. The
capital stock of the corporation, which
was originally $50,000, was subsequently
increased, from the earnings, to $100,000.
In 1873, having impaired his health by
close and continued application to busi-
ness, Mr. Buffum withdrew from the ac-
tive management of the affairs of the
corporation, and was succeeded by his
brother-in-law, Mr. Stickney, the pres-
ent agent. He spent several months in
the autumn of that year in Colorado, and
the spring of 1874 in California, and re-
turned home with restored health.

THE SENATE AND ITS PRESIDENTS— HON. DAVID H. BUFFUM.

Several years previous to the organiza-
tion of the Great Falls Woolen Company-
Mr. Buftum had taken a large interest in
a similar enterprise at South Berwick,
known as the Newichawanick Company,
of which his brother-in-law, the late
Hon. John H. Burleigh, was the active
manager, they two, with the well known
" Friend" Hill being the principal stock-
holders, which enterprise, although a
losing one at first, ultimately proved
very successful. After the suddeu and
startling death of Mr. Burleigh, a few
months since, Mr. Buff um was chosen
treasurer of the Newichawanick Com-
pany. Aside from these important man-
ufacturing enterprises, he has been for
several years a partner with L. R. Her-
som in the wool pulling and sheep-skin
tanning establishment on Berwick side
at Great Falls, and has, furthermore, ex-
tensive manufacturing interests at Milton
Mills.

As would naturally be inferred from
the foregoing, Mr. Buffum has not been
largely engaged in public and political
life. He has, however, had sufficient ex-
perience in that direction, taken in con-
nection with his knowledge of practical
business affairs, to qualify him for the
efficient discharge of the duties now de-
volving upon him as a servant of the peo-
ple, in the important office which he
holds. He was chosen Town Clerk of
Somersworth in March, 1842. it being the
election at which he cast his first vote,
and was re-elected the following year.
In 1846 he was elected a member of the
board of Selectmen, and was subsequent-
ly several times elected to the same posi-
tion. In 1861 and 1862 he was one of the
members of the House of Representa-
tives from Somersworth, serving the first
year as a member of the committee on
Banks and the second year as chairman
of the committee on the Reform School.
In 1863, Mr. Buffum was the Republican
candidate for Railroad Commissioner,
running upon the ticket with Governor
Gilmore. A third tieket placed in the
field, defeated an election by the people,
but the Republican candidates were cho-
sen by the Legislature, and Mr. Buffum

served as a member of the board of Rail-
road Commissioners for the full term of
three years. In the spring of 1875, his
name was brought forward, though
against his wish, by some of his friends,
in the Republican Senatorial Convention
in District No. 5, and he received a very
flattering vote. Last year he was again
supported and received the nomination ,
by nearly a unanimous vote, his election
following as a matter of course. He
served with ability in the last Senate,
as a member of the several committees
on Judiciary, Finance, Banks and State
Institutions, and although one of three
members of the majority party, re-elect-
ed this year, he was accorded the Presi-
dency by common consent. Among his
associates in the Senate last year were
three men who were fellow members in
the House fifteen years ago, viz: Messrs.
John F. Cloutman of Farmington, Natt
Head of Hooksett, and James Burnap of
Marlow. In the present Senate, there
are also two members who were members
of the House with Mr. Buffum — Messrs.
Amidon of Hinsdale and Shaw of Leba-
non.

Mr. Buffum was married, January 26,
1853, to Charlotte E. Stickney, daughter
of Alexander H. Stickney of Great Falls,
who deceased March 8, 1868, leaving him
four children, three sons and a daughter,
the latter also now deceased. The three
sons, Edgar Stickney, Harry Austin, and
David Hanson, are respectively twenty-
two, twenty, and fifteen years of age.
The oldest graduated at Yale College last
year, and is now learning the manufac-
turing business in the woolen mill at
Great Falls ; the second is a member of
the junior class at lale, and the young -
est remains at home.

Mr. Buffum's religious associations are
with the Congregational church, where
he attends public worship regularly and
contributes liberally for its support,
though not a member of the church or-
ganization. By strict integrity and cour-
teous and gentlemanly bearing, he has
secured the esteem of all classes of his
fellow citizens who rejoice in his success
both in private and public life.

NATURE'S CREED.

BX FLINT CARMEL.

From the towering hills — over northward they rear —

Whose mosses are fanned by the Avhispering breeze,
Happy homes, far belew in the valley, appear

To gaze upward in love thro' their tall shading trees.
Not a ripple disturbing the mirror beyond !

With its beauty unbroken the scene becomes new,
Save where Purity rests in embraces so fond

As the lily peeps into the sky's liquid blue.

On the deep fringed shore the sad willow droops low
And is plaintively whispering " doomed to bemoan !"

But the wave as it rises will soothingly flow,

Bringing kisses of sweetness for willows alone.

And the hills in their grandeur these things comprehend,
Standing forth in protection above this retreat,

Seeming calmly to speak " we will last to the end,
Keeping safe each warm heart till it ceases to beat ! "

For a moment descend, ye time-fading old hills,

To the homes that seem happy and peaceful below;
Pause and listen to discord of numberless ills,

See how thankless thy mission their malice would show!
For the towering domes mounting upward toward thee

As if thou to outreach in their heavenward flight,
Seem to speak of a faith which from sin pardons free

In the place of a war that would sadden the sight.

Each tall spire, as upward it rises on high

Looks in anger across at its neighboring foe,
And a battle goes on and opinions reply

How we safest and surest may heavenward go.
As the eye of the pilgrim and sinner spells out

All the guideboards to happiness, heaven and love,
On his ear harshly falling each deepening shout,

He will heed not their warning—' 1 They lead not above ! "

From the discordant valley his sick soul he turns

A deliv'rance to seek from the medley of creeds ;
For his being is stirred, in a fever it burns,

And cries out for a balm that will reach all its needs.
Up the brow of a hill with a soul-stricken mein,

Till the summit is reached he waits not to rest-
Then he turns and is spellbound by rapture so keen-
All beneath him, around him, in beauty is dressed !

MY FRIENDS AND I: MEMORIES.

The grand scene lies before him in quiet repose,

On the calm, sleeping lake, his glad vision returns,

Nature's harmony there his vague doubting o'erflows—
From the joy in his soul the true way he learns !

God is speaking in nature; once more by the breeze

Gently points to the spires— they something would say

As they lift up their heads from among the tall trees-
Chanted softly it comes—" we all point the same way."

MY FRIENDS AND I: MEMORIES.

BY L. W. DODGE.

The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of night.

As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in its flight.

.—Longfellow.

I have been standing with my face to
the eastern window, watching the day-
light fade away, and the night come
down so gloriously, and the starry senti-
nels as one by one they take their sta-
tions in the deep-blue vault above. I was
gazing dreamily, scarce knowing or car-
ing why, when a meteor, a swift gliding
star that seemed to have been resting in
its allotted place near the zenith, left its
throne of glory and went suddenly rush-
ing down the farther sky, vanishing be-
low the dim horizon, leaving behind a
long train of fading splendor, as quickly
to be gathered up, like stray sunbeams.

Why may not our lives be thus, 1
mused, scattering blessings, as a train of
brilliants, along our illuminated path-
way?

But how incidents and happenings,
trivial enough in themselves, sometimes
will send our minds a wandering ; and
how one idea will follow another, until
our thoughts run riot, like school-boys
chasing butterflies in meadow pastures,
running and leaping and singing with
the mountain brook, hunting birds' nests
in sunny glades, gathering nuts among
the squirrel-haunted beech-woods.

These sudden flashes or passages of
thought from one subject to another are
sometimes quite startling, and yet there
seems to be a sort of a gliding along, per-
haps by association.

Just now, as that flying meteor went
shedding its glories adown the east, it
suggested— for it is the Christmas night-
thoughts of that piloting orb which start-
led the shepherds, two thousand years
ago, from their oriental slumbers upon
the hills of Judea, and guided the
Heaven-appointed seekers to the feet of
the infant author of that simple faith
which cheers the hearts of men wherever
the story of the Christ- child is told
among the sons and daughters of earth,
to this day.

And perhaps that same gliding star
that even now scattered its scintillations '
above this western world, may be look-
ing down upon some weary watcher upon
Bethlehem's plain, as he listens beneath
a waving palm-tree for the muezzin's call
to prayer at the first flush of expected
morn.

Now comes a flood of overwhelming
memories, and, seated by the firelight in
my little library, I have been watching
the cheerful glow of the bright-red coals,
and dreaming away an hour in reveries
whereof I must tell you, and if you list-
en you will know why that gleaming
star, hastening beyond the east, suggest-
ed these musings; or, if I can put them
to paper, and you follow my pen, you
may see, although I shall fail to make
them as interesting to you as I could
wish.

We will not call it a story, but rather
a history, for it is a narrative of events
in the lives of two young hearts, even-

MY FRIENDS AND I: MEMORIES.

•while dwellers in a quiet New Hamp-
shire village.

I had a friend once, and companion, in
one of those years which we wish to
remember and dream of. He w r as my
junior by a year or two, but my superior
in everything. How I loved his ardent
nature, his great warm heart, void of all
selfishness; how I admired his manly
form, his brilliant intellect, and look,
now, after this score and more of years,
into his clear earnest eye, and worship
the memory of his noble soul, of his bet-
ter life !

It was during our later school-days
that we first met ; on one of those days
between weeks, when, relieved from the
weariness of conning ©ur text-books, we
sought that freedom which nature gives,
and by shadowy, untrodden paths
climbed a mountain slope, and upon its
rock-crowned, topmost peak introduced
ourselves to each other and to the world
above us ; not that there was any formal
ceremony, for it was many days after
that ere we exchanged names, or even
thought of it. But we were acquainted,
nevertheless.

You know it is always so in our every-
day life ; it is a certain principle of at-
traction and repulsion in our natures.
What was it about that gentleman you
called my attention to yesterday, as we
were riding in the street car, that caused
such a repulsiveness of feeling? It was
nothing in outward appearance, for he
w as scrupulously and faultlessly dressed.
Then why, I ask, that instantaneous, un-
taught repudiation independent of will
or wisdom? And what was there in that
sunny face and in those soul-stirring
eyes that we passed upon the corner of
the street to-day that caused us to stop
and admire, and others to listen and
smile, not guessing why? It was not
that he was entertaining a little girlish
sunbeam there, for the one in the car
strove to awaken a child's love for nov-
elty, but failed to interest, and the boy
shrank away repelled. But I leave the
why for philosophers to answer ; we can
know the facts.

But I was going to tell you ; this was
the first of many pilgrimages that we

made together, my friend and I, and
many pleasures unknown we sought in
the forests and among the hills, wherev-
er the wildness and the beauty of the
scenery won us. I am not going to give
you a narration of those experiences, lest
they prove wearisome, but pass on to the
incidents I intended to sketch.

My student life over, I entered into the
more practical and busy affairs of life,
leaving my friend to pursue his studies
and strive for the fulfilment of his high
ambition, which was a noble one. " I
would be great," he said one day, as we
stood upon an eminence, overlooking the
little world of country around us, " I
would go through the world like this
wind, girded with power to freshen and
purify, to sweep away old wrongs and
prejudices, just as these leaves of autumn
are scattered. I would stir the thoughts
of men as these trees are stirred, and
with words that would go echoing down
the corridors of time. I would possess
a knowledge of all lands and all nations ;
I would walk in the footsteps of the old
masters, and muse above he ashes of de-
parted greatness. I would wander
among the time-hallowed ruins of Greece
and Rome, and look upon those pyra-
midal monuments of ancient glory in the
land of the Pharaohs; dream among
those desolate ruins of antique palaces,
the halls of Karnak and the temples of
Luxor, century-laden relics of a mum-
mied age. Or what more worth the liv-
ing for than to see the sun rise above
Olivet's sacred mount, or his glorious
setting beyond the hills and forests of
Lebanon? Think of bathing one's life-
stained limbs in the waters of the Jor-
dan, and baring his forehead to the dewy
winds of Hermon I What more inspir-
ing, think you, than to lie in the star-
light of Bethlehem, gazing upon the
misty outlines of the hills and valleys
that had known the wanderings of the
' Son of Man ;' or upon the hillside
above the vale of Jehosaphat, watching
the moonlight creeping over and around
the walls of the 'City of David,' and
across the hills of Judea, lighting up the
shadows in Gethsemane's garden, and
silvering the disturbed waters of far Gal-

MY FRIENDS AND I: MEMORIES.

ilee! Didst never think, oh, friend of
mine, that that same calm moon and
those changeless watchers in heaven's
blue vault , which we so love to worship,
looked down, in the ages that were, upon
the scenes and incidents of ' Holy Laud ? '
Didst never ask them, in your home in
the up country, to tell you the story of
that legendary eastern clime and the
'Boy of Nazareth?'"

I bade Wilbur Austin a reluctant good-
bye that night, and saw him not again
for many months ; then our meeting was
in this wise: In one of those far-off
years of mine, full of rovings here and
there, a soft, star-lit evening in early au-
tumn found me at a quiet New Hamp-
shire village. Many such are found at
short intervals, scattered throughout the
Connecticut valley, set like constellation
gems along that watery way.

You may know the place ; near where
a spur of those grand old hills sets down
his granite foot far across the valley, and
the river goes fretting around it as
though disturbed at the intended barrier.
" Moosilauke," overlooking his humbler
neighbors, lifts his shaggy summit into
cloud-land toward the east.

There is a long avenue, the village
street, stretching away beneath a shad-
ow of wide-spreading elms, older than
the century. A miniature park invites
the wayfarer into its semi-solitude, and
here the purple twilight falls early, for
the sun sets before its time to the villag-
ers atween the hills, and night comes
down slowly.

Leisurely sauntering, almost unmind-
ful, I lent a listening ear to the quaint
song of a whippoorwill, sent from the
gray cliffs a little back from the village
street, and heard above the whisperings
of winds and waters down below.

But now voices, less inspiring perhaps,
but quite as familiar, aroused me from
dreamy reveries, and, pausing, I became
an involuntary though not an unwilling
listener. I could not be mistaken ; it was
the voice of my old friend, though to-
night somewhat tremulous and sad, and
I knew the deep springs of his soul were
stirred to their lowest depths and were
welling up, up. I fancied I could hear

other tones, too, of a crushed and fear-
ful anguish, as of a heart bowed down.

" Yes, dear Ellen, it must be so ; the
cup is bitter, but it must be drained. I
had anticipated no objection from your
father to the realization of our fondest
hopes. I know I am altogether unwor-
thy your hand or your love, but some-
how I had dared to hope, too fondly,
alas, that our happiness was not to be
disturbed in this way ; but since the fiat
has been spoken, I shut my eyes upon
the bright picture of our future, tinted
by ' love's young dream,' and shall open
them on the morrow to the stern realities
of the ' it must be so.' I love you too
well to have you incur parental displeas-
ure or sow the seeds for future unhappi-
ness and sorrowful regrets. To-morrow
I go to wander I know not whither, and
we may never meet again, but I would
not have you forget me soon, nor our
brief dream of bliss, whether I tarry
among the sunny scenes of life or go
away beyond the hills of earth. On some
quiet evening of midsummer, when there
are no dampening shadows between the
flowers and the stars we so love for com-
panionship, and when the silvery moon-
light creeps over the hilltop yonder and
down into the valley, weaving around
the soul its wizard spell, go out then
upon the river's bank, and beneath the
* old oak ' whose waving branches shel-
ter the rock-hewn seat where we so oft
have sat in the gloaming, listening to the
wild songs of evening and watching the
night come down with all the stars — sit
there, I say, in the old familiar spot, and
know for a verity, if the soul is superior
to the clay, I will sit beside you, and we
will talk of the past and its memories.
And why not? Since sprits may com-
mune with each other after this earthy
form is abandoned, why may they not,
too, while the blood is warm and the
cheeks aglow and the eyes -are bright?"

For many minutes there was no re-
sponse, save in stifled sobs, and I could
almost realize there was raging in the
depths of some pure soul a tempest of in-
tense love and emotion, and in his an in-
describable and tumultuous agony. At
length she spoke, and her voice was

MY FRIENDS AND I : MEMORIES.

calm, save a lingering treinulousness :

" And is this the end, dear Will? Must
our love-laden bark here founder? Does
my father think by driving you hence to
turn my thoughts and affections into an-
other and unnatural channel? It can nev-
er be. Wherever you may go, rest assured
my heart goes with you. Time, you know,
is the mother of change, and we may be
happy yet. As the months go away, my
father may relent, and see in a strong,
noble soul, armed with true manhood,
more of real worth than in the gold and
glitter and lands of a cold-hearted man
of the world. But, Will, it is hard to say
goodbye — almost harder than I can bear.
I must commence a new life, for all my
present life and love will be gone, per-
haps forever. But I will find companion-
ship in our old haunts ; I shall be alone on
the bank ofHhe river, where the shadows
come and go, and there is wild melody of
wind and waves ; out upon the hillside at
the foot of the cliff, where the nigh t-bird
sings the daylight away, and where we
so love to worship the moon and the star-
light as they come glinting into the even-
ing sky ; up in the glen, so full of sweet
solitude, and where the laughing brook
babbles among the rocks and the mosses.
But, dear Will, should you never return
to these scenes ; should death come to
you in a distant land — and now her voice
became broken — I will name a tryst, and
you shall treasure it in memory with this
love of ours : If you go hence before me
you shall be first to greet me upon the
other shore ; but if I tarry not long with
these friends of earth, and your mission
be not yet fulfiilled, so I meet you not
over there, my kiss shall awaken you
upou that glorious morning. Shall it
not be thus?"

'' We will live and die in that memory,
dear Ellen."

Just then a ray of moonlight stole in
through the branches, and she blushed
not to see two white arms wound
around a manly neck, and a love-
ly form pressed lovingly to a breast
where beat as noble a heart as ever
warmed with human love; and I am
very sure that compact was sacredly
sealed with pure and ardent lips.

The intruder upon that sacred scene
has long since been forgiven the innova-
tion. It was my intention to steal away
unnoticed with this unsought secret, and
was moving with that purpose when a
peculiar but well-remembered signal ar-
rested my steps. I had heard it often in
those days of which I mentioned — those
later school days — and I obeyed its call
with as much pleasure and alacrity as
did my old friend a similar summons
from me in one of our adventurous holi-
day excursions, whereof I may sometime
tell you, but not now.

So novel a meeting would, under or-
dinary circumstances, have proved a
very enjoyable one. for he was a glorious
talker, and we would have walked and
talked the night hours away and bridged
over the almost three years of separation
with the events of the lapsed period,
whereof each formed a part, and of oth-
er days and their memories ; but I knew
the heart of my friend was o'er-filled
with sad thoughts and dreary forebod-
ings, and that of his.fair companion, who
clung so trustingly to his side as we
strolled leisurely along toward her home
among the maples, was brimming with
meditations too sacred to commit to
words; so I ventured not to turn the
current of their moody reflections by
idle, common-place utterences of my own.
I shrank from entering the consecrated
precincts where those agonized souls
were worshipping at the shrine of true
and holy love; so I aw r aited in silence,
making companionship with the God-
given glories of that summer evening,
and turning at times with frank emotion
to do homage to the world of beauty
and true womanly loveliness that
gleamed with heavenly radiance from
the bright but sad young face of Ellen
Burton.

Once, only once, was the silence brok-
en by aught of the lips' expression :

" Better die then, since life has lost its
joy; it were better to die that the aching
heart may be at rest."

" No, dear Ellen, not so, for 'the dark-
est day wait till to-morrow will have
passed away,' and these murky clouds
may be hiding from us their sun-illu-

MY FRIENDS AND I: MEMORIES.

mined face ; after frost and the dreariness
of winter come the flowers and the joys
of spring."

The air had grown chilly and the even-
ing far spent when we said "good-night"
to Miss Ellen at the wayside gate lead-
ing to her father's house, where we left
her in care of " Old Black Ben," the
faithful house-dog, who came bounding
down the walk to meet his young mis-
tress. The moon smiled again as Will
dropped a kiss upon those dewy lips, and
entreating her to cheerful rest unmind-
ful of to-morrow's adieus, he took my
arm and we moved away in silence.
Wrapping my cloak more closely about
me to keep out the evening's damp, and
lighting a cigar from Will's well-filled
case, we waudered out into the starlight
and adown the road by the river's bank.
Had our hearts been free from this un-
timely sadness, and our spirits light as
in those merry, happy days I wot of, we
should have lain ourselves upon the
grass, or upon some moss-upholstered
rock beside the river, and, disturbed by
no sound save those musical murmurs
which we always loved, we would have
talked the moon from out the sky, and
the stars beyond the western hills ; but
now almost in painful silence the time
sped along until the " High Rock "
was passed, where the waters fretted so
madly, and the cold gray walls of the
" Haunted House" became dimly visible
in the shadow of the " Hill of Pines."
Here the wind sighed heavily, in sympa-
thy, I suppose, with our saddest spirits.
At the " Rustic Bridge" over the " Hem-
lock Brook," we turned to retrace our
steps, and as villageward we wended
our way, I learned what I was most
wishing to hear from the lips of my old
companion : the events of his life during
the long months since that morning in a
late autumn, when we, at a riverside de-
pot, exchanged farewells, (and old hats,
too, in memoriam, as I well remember),
I, to step out into the world of busy life,
he to return to the halls of learning.
And most of all I wished to know of
this late episode, this life of a lover,
an interesting scene of which I had but
now been an incidental witness. Gradu-

ally and strangely it unfolded, and I
learned how, soon after I left him at
school, the remittances from his agent
or guardian grew smaller and less fre-
quent, until one bright morning he
awoke to learn that he was penniless.
The small fortune that was left him by
his father having been turned into cash
by the miscreant in whose care it was
placed, and he having fled with his ill-
gotten gain to parts unknown.

Having fully satisfied himself of the
fact, and deeming the recovery of it, or
even the criminal himself, surrounded by
an impenetrable shadow of doubts, he
turned his attention to the realities of his
new circumstances, and set about buckling
on the armor of manhood to engage in
the real battle of life. With extreme re-
luctance he severed his connection with
the institution he had chosen as his Al-
ma Mater, and gave up all idea of a com-
plete college course. His little affairs,
the necessary outgrowth of a student's
life, weae soon arranged, and he left in
the care of a friend his nucleus of a li-
brary, and other accumulated effects,
among which was a superb " Madonna "
by some unknown author. This my
friend greatly cherished, avering and al-
ways dreaming it the prototype of one
yet to be found in all maidenly loveli-
ness in some of the by-ways of the " yet
to be." I shall never forget that artist's
conception. I think one could sit for
hours gazing into those dreamy eyes,
and then the countenance ! it seems im-
possible that so much loveliness could
be put upon canvas, so life-like was it !
such matchless lips ! so rich, soft cheeks !
and then there was a world of womanly
loveliness and depth of soul beaming
from out her gentle face.

You know there are few paintings rep-
resenting the " Holy Mother" that are
particularly striking, save as works of
art. but this one of which I write, ap-
pealed to the heart; and one went out
from it always with lingering dreams of
those dove-like eyes beaming upon him
from soul-full features.

Thus much have I said of this picture
without intending it, but you will par-
don me when I say. that although a score

12 EARLY HISTORY OF THE METHODISTS IN NEW HAMPSHIRE.

of years of life's experiences have left
their impress here, yet the memory of
that angelic face lingers as bright as a
dream of Heaven.

But I was saying; these he left with a
friend until time and circumstances should

come for them, and then, sadly, but with
hope and purpose strong, he stepped out
to do and dare ; a man among men, in
and of the world.

CONCLUDED NEXT MONTH.

FOBGETFULNESS OF SOBBOW.

BY MARY HELEN BOODEY.

Some precious moments of forgetfulness

I gain from out the web and woof of time,
Faint snatches from the future's perfect chime,
That fall upon the heart like a caress
Given by the soul that's steeped In tenderness :
Peace wraps me like a mantle, faith is mine,
And all my hopes in greater beauty shine,
Lit with a radiance that disarms distress,
Such hours do seem strange notes of harmony

From heavenly choirs that reach me dwelling here
' Within the house of my mortality,

Blinded, yet listening, albeit the soul's ear
Is dull and heavy, not what it will be
When the whole glorious strain, sweet, soft and clear,
Shall sound in ceaseless music through its sphere.

EABLY HISTOBY OF THE METHODISTS IN NEW HAMPSHIBE.

BY JOSEPH FULLONTON.

There are different divisions of Method-
ists, but those most common in this sec-
tion of the country, and the largest body
of them, are called Episcopal Methodists.
The denomination originated in England
in 1739, mainly under the labors of Rev.
John Wesley. A society was formed in
London, and one in Bristol soon after.
The corner-stone of the first Methodist
meeting house was laid May 12, 1739.
The annual conference of their ministers
is peculiar to the denomination, and the
first commenced in London, June 25,
1744, and consisted of six members.

The first Methodist Society in this
country was organized in New York

City in 1766. It was composed of immi-
grants from Ireland, who had been won
to the faith by the preaching of Mr.
Wesley. The first Methodist preacher
in that city was Philip Embury. His
first discourse was in his own hired
house to five persons. As the congrega-
tion increased, a rigging loft was occu-
pied in Williams Street; and, finally, a
house of worship was erected. This was
what has been since called the Old John
Street Church. It was dedicated in 1768.
The first annual conference was in 1773,
when there were ten preachers appoint-
ed to six places, mostly cities, one of
which was New York, another Philadel-

EARIA HISTORY OF THE METHODISTS IN NEW HAMPSHIRE. 13

phia, another Baltimore. There were

six hundred in the membership. In 1784

there were 33 travelling preachers and

14,986 members. At Christmas, the

same year, the first annual conference

was held in Baltimore. In 1792, the first

general conference was held in the same
place.

It will be seen that these operations
were south of New England, but it has
been a characteristic of Methodism to
make an aggressive war upon the empire
of sin, and extend itself in all directions.
New England was visited by several
preachers, among them being Rev. Jason
Lee, a pioneer often on the frontiers,
travelling on horseback, and addressing,
with great earnestness, zeal and fervor,
multitudes that came to hear him. He
was in Boston, where he preached once
under the great elm on the common.

No sooner had a foothold been gained
in Massachusetts than New Hampshire
was considered a field to be cultivated.
In 1794, the New England Conference ap-
pointed John Hill to labor in this State.
What came of this is not known, as there
is no record of his work. Possibly he
did not come into the State. Yet,
through the efforts of some one, a socie-
ty was soon after formed in Chesterfield,
which in 1797 had 92 members, and that
year Smith Weeks was appointed to that
place. The church there still exists, and
is probably the oldest in the State. Two

years later Elijah Batchelder was ap-
pointed there.
In the meantime other sections were

visited. Jason Lee, above named, la-
bored in the lower part of the State to
some extent. Some opposition was en-
countered, but in general a good work
is not hindered by opposition, but, on
the contrary, is usually advanced. Dur-
ing the year 1800 a society was consti-
tuted in Landaff and one in Hawke, now
Danville; in 1801, one in Hanover; in
1802, one in Bridgewater and one in
Kingston ; in 1803, one in Grantham ; in
1804 one in Pembroke, one in Loudon and
one in Tuftonborough ; in 1805, one in
Northfield and one in Centre Harbor; in
1806, one in Portsmouth ; in 1807 one in

Canaan and one in Rochester ; in 1810,
one in Greenland.

The several places to which a minister
was appointed constituted a " circuit,"
receiving its name from the principal
town ; and this continued, especially in
country regions, until within a very few
years. A circuit embraced two, three or
more towns. These the minister was to
visit and hold evening or other meetings.
When a circuit was very large, two min-
isters were assigned to it. On a circuit,
a minister was much in the saddle, or
travelling on foot in wilderness regions,
finding his way by spotted trees.

During the times in which the above
societies were established, and later,
there were several distinguished minis-
ters doing good service in the State,
among whom should be named the fol-
lowing :

Rev. Elijah Hedding, who travelled
over some of the rough portions of the
State, preaching the gospel to many, but
subsequently became a Bishop, and re-
sided in Poughkeepsie, N. Y., where he
died.

Rev. Wilbur Fisk, who was a Presid-
ing Elder in New Hampshire, and after-
wards became President of Wesleyan
University, in Middletown, Conn., and
was elected Bishop, but died before serv-
ing in that office.

Rev. John Broadhead, a native of
Pennsylvania, who was for some time a
Presiding Elder — a man of sterling
ability and an effective preacher, who
resided at what is now South New-
market, was a Senator in the Legislature,
and for four years Representative in Con-
gress, and who died April 7, 1838.

Rev. Alfred Metcalf resided in Green-
land as a local preacher, and labored suc-
cessfully in the surrounding region.
After a ministry of success for thirty
years, he died June 4, 1837, aged fifty-
nine years.

Rev. John Adams was born in New-
ington. He preached in Massachusetts,
Maine, and, during the latter part of his
life, as well as at times previously, in
New Hampshire. He had some eccen-
tricities, but many excellencies. He was
apt, cutting in rebuke, fascinating and
earnest, had great influence in his ad-
dresses, and was successful in bringing

MALAGA.

many into the churches. He was famil-
iarly known as " Reformation John."
He died in Newmarket, Sept. 30, 1850,
aged fifty-nine years.

Rev. Joseph A. Merrill was for some
time a Presiding Elder; also Rev. Benj.
R. Hoyt. Rev. George Pickering did
good service in helping to organize early
societies. Rev. Martin Ruter, afterwards
a Doctor of Divinity, labored for a time
in this State. He died in Texas, where
he went to preach to the destitute.

An academy was established by this
denomination in Newmarket in 1813.
This was near Newfields Village, in what
is now South Newmarket. Its location
was too far from the village for conven-
ience, but it flourished for several years.
In 1824 the funds were transferred to the
institution in Wilbraham, Mass. Still
the academy continued its operations for

some years later, but in 1845 the State
Conference opened a seminary at San-
bornton Bridge. After the buildings
were burned, new ones were erected very
near, in what is now Tilton.

Camp Meetings were not common till
within the recollection of some now liv-
ing. The first, a record of which is now
at hand, was held in Sandwich in 1820.
The first in Rockingham County was in
Sandown, in 1823. Sprituous liquors
were sold near by, which caused trouble.
The following year another was held in
that town. The celebrated Rev. John
N. Mafflt was present. The encamp-
ment was then a small affair, compared
with those of more modern times. There
were but about twenty tents in a circle,
in which eight or ten hundred persons
might be seated on rough seats.

MALAGA.

BY VIANNA A. CONNOR.

[The writer is a young lady of Concord,

In one of the sunniest spots of " Sun-
ny Spain " stands the quaint old city of
Malaga, known to us in childhood by its
delicious raisins, and, to our more ad-
vanced age, by its interesting history
and the conspicuous part it has borne in
the political struggles of the nation.

As we enter the harbor we are enchant-
ed with the beautiful scene before us.
The sea, calm and lovely in its glassy
stillness, the mountains, rising on and on
until their dim outlines are hardly pre-
ceptible in the distance, and the city with
its domes and spires glistening in the
rays of a tropical sun, form pictures of
surpassing loveliness. As we approach,
we obtain a fine view of the cathedral,
the custom house, and the old Castle
which has watched over its protegee for
centuries.

Generation after generation has passed
away, but this ancient fortress has been

now visiting in Spain.— Ed. Monthly.]

true to its trust, struggling nobly for the
protection of its subjects, a bulwark of
strength, and " a very present help in
time of need." We drop anchor, and
immediately our steamer is surrounded
by small boats ready to carry us and our
luggage to the shore. A medley of un-
intelligible sounds, accompanied by the
high tones and frantic gesticulations of
the boatmen, bewilders our unaccus-
tomed ears, and we rejoice heartily
when everything is satisfactorily ar-
ranged and we are on our way. Arriv-
ing on shore we proceed to find the Cus-
tom House officer, not without some anx-
iety, having heard various rumors of un-
reasonable duties extorted from foreign-
ers ; we, however, are more fortunate,
and after a slight examination of our
boxes, are allowed to depart in peace
with the customary " Vaga Usted con
Dios." Kind friends welcome us with

MALAGA.

loving words and our " Chateaux en
Espagne" are more thau realized in the
happy hours which each day brings.

Who could be otherwise than happy
in a climate of almost perpetual sun-
shine? To an inhabitant of northern
climes it would appear incredible that
weeks and even months pass without one
cloudy day to obscure the brightness,
and this without the penalty of a rainy
season, which is not known in Malaga.
In the months of November and Decem-
ber more rain falls than at any other por-
tion of the year, but it is so interspersed
with sunshine that there is little oppor-
tunity for dullness; even when the rain
is falling the sun seems to be forcing its
way through the clouds to remind us of
its presence. The winter is charming
beyond description ; such a sky is not to
be found even in Italy, and the air is uni-
formly mild and balmy We take our
daily walks and drives as regularly as
the Cathedral clock strikes the hours,
planning excursions for days in advance
without a fear of adverse weather. In-
valids, especially those suffering from
pulmonary complaints, are almost in-
variably benefitted by this climate. An
equable temperature and strong sunlight
are powerful remedial ageuts both for
body and mind. In the year 1861 a phe-
nomenon occurred in the form of a slight
fall of snow which created quite a sen-
sation among the Malagnenos. It dis-
appeared as suddenly as it came and has
never made a second visitation. The
summer months are hot, but the heat is
less enervating than in a climate where
the temperature is constantly changing,
and much less dangerous. There are no
epidemics and we have never heard a
case of sunstroke reported.

Malaga is very irregular in appear-
ance ; the ancient portion is quite a laby-
rinth of narrow streets laid out before
the advent of carriages ; those a little
more modern are sufficiently wide to ad-
mit one carriage, while others made with-
in the last half-century are broad and
well paved. The favorite promenade is
the '■ Alameda," so called from alamos,
(elm), it being bordered on either side
by those trees. It is adorned by occa-

sional statues and fountains placed at
each end. The largest of these was
erected last year in honor of King Al-
fonso's visit to this city, its silvery
spray rising to a great height, and re-
flecting the golden beams of the setting
sun, producing a most brilliant effect.
The other, less pretentious in size, is en-
titled to some consideration on account
of having shared in the celebration of
the marriage of ex-Queen Isabella, when
it sent forth jets of red wine, to the ad-
miration of all beholders.

On Sundays and days of fiesta, the Al-
ameda presents an animated appearance,
being filled with ladies and gentlemen
promenading,or sitting in chairs arranged
along the sides, which one may occupy
a whole afternoon for the insignificant
sum of half a real (two and a half cents) ,
with the additional advantage of listen-
ing to gay music discoursed by a band
of musicians furnished by the govern-
ment. Here friends sit and chat over
the current topics of the day ; maidens
and lovers cast furtive glances of un-
swerving fidelity, and little children,
happiest of all, frisk about like young
lambs, regardless of clean frocks and
scolding nurses.

Running at right angles with the large
Alameda is a smaller one, bearing the
somewhat gloomy name of "Alameda
de los Tristes," (of the sad). The name
is an inappropriate one, as it is the gay-
est, most cheerful street in the city.
The sun sheds upon it its life-giving rays
" from early morn till dewey eve," while
the merry birds fill the air with their
joyous songs. Acacia trees afford a
geateful shade for those who wish to
pass the hours in "dolcefar niente" a
pastime much sought and enjoyed by in-
habitants of southern climes. As the
Alameda de los Tristes is the gayest
street, so the Calle Peligro (Dangerous
Street), is the safest ; Calle Ancha (Broad
Street), the narrowest ; Calle Sucia (Dir-
ty Street), the cleanest; and Calle dil
Viento (Wind Street), the least airy.
The Plaza de la Constitucion derives its
name from having been the site of the
City Hall at the time the Constitutional
Law was first proclaimed, in the year

TO MT. KEARSARGE.

1812. It was an event of the greatest
importance to the people, being a transi-
tion from absolute despotism to a Con-
stitutional Monarchy. Hitherto they
had been subject to the mandates of a
capricious king, without a knowledge of
their rights or power to assert them ;
but the new law extended its protecting
hand and gave them a feeling of compar-
ative security.

The Plaza de Riego a de la Merced
(Mercy), as it is more commonly called,
bears the name of Gen. Riego, a Liber-
alist who delivered an address in this
square. He was afterwards executed in
Madrid on charge of conspiring against
the government. In the centre of the
Plaza stands a monument on which are
inscribed the names of forty-nine inno-
cent men, executed here on the 11th of
December, 1831. The principal one, a
Spaniard by the name of Torrijos, who
was known as a Liberalist, during a stay
at Gibraltar, received a letter from the
Governor of Malaga, informing him that
great excitement prevailed among the
citizens who were anxious for a change
of government, and desired his immedi-

ate presence. Accordingly he embarked
from Gibraltar in a small vessel contain-
ing forty-nine persons, who immediately
upon their landing upon the coast west
of Malaga, were seized and put to death
without any opportunity of defending
themselves. Upon two sides of the
monument are the following couplets:

* u A vista de este ejemplo cindadanos
Antes morir que consentir tiranos."

t"El martir que transmite su memoria
No muere, sube al templo de la Gloria."

A blacker crime than this can scarcely
be found recorded in the annals of Span-
ish history. Had it transpired in the less
enlightened period of the middle ages,
it would be regarded as the result of ig-
norance and barbarism, but the deliber-
ate performance of a treacherous act in
the very height of civilization is a stain
upon the record of the nation which can
never be effaced.

*" In view of this example, citizens,
sooner die than consent to tyrants."

t" The martyr who transmits his mem-
ory never dies, but ascends to the temple
of Glory."

TO MT. KEABSABGE.

BY WILL E. WALKER.

Lone mount, uplifting high thy storm-scarred crest,

Oft veiled in clouds, amidst the circling hills,
Thy craggy sides and slopes in verdure dressed,

The source of limpid springs and fruitful rills ;
While many dwellers in the vale below,

Who loved thee once have passed from earth away,
And we who love thee, too, like them shall go, —

From age to age, dost thou, unmoved, stay,
And like the prophet who of old did cry,

"Repent, repent, the Kingdom is at hand!"
So wouldst thou lift our worldly minds on high,

To things eternal, to a Better Land.
Thy maker's glory thou dost well foretell ;

We greet thee, Hail ! but soon must say Farewell !

CAPT. THOMAS BAKER AND MADAME CHRISTINE, HIS WIFE. 17

CAPT. THOMAS BAKER AND MADAME CHRISTINE, HIS WIFE.*

BY REV. SILAS KETCHUM, WINDSOR, CONN.

On the 9th of February, 1704, a sec-
ond great calamity and destruction by
the Indians fell on Deerfield, Mass., the
story of which has become familiar
through the narrative of Rev. John Wil-
liams, minister of the town, who, with
his wife and children, was carried captive
to Canada. In this attack thirty-eight
perished, and 100 were taken prisonei-s.
Of this latter number nineteen were mur-
dered and three starved before reaching
Canada. Among the survivors was
Thomas Baker, afterwards the celebrat-
ed Indian fighter.

He was born in Northampton, Mass.,
May 14th, 1682, a son of Timothy and
Sarah (Atherton) Baker. Whether he
was residing at Deerfield, or whether he
was captured previously, in the raid of
the Indians on surrounding towns, does
not appear. He was then twenty -two
years of age. How long he remained a
captive in Canada is unknown, at least to
the writer. What were his experiences,
or manner of deliverance, how he was
treated, or how employed, there is noth-
ing to show. Two things, however, it
seems safe to predicate of his captivity :
That he acquired that knowledge of In-
dian modes and methods which contrib-
uted to his subsequent successes as an
Indian scout, and that he made in Cana-
da the acquaintance of a young woman
who afterwards became as famous as he,
and who, by becoming his wife, doubt-
less induced him to forsake his own and
become a citizen of her native State.

* Since writing this article, my atten-
tion has been called to certain facts in
relation to the subjects of it, communi-
cated to the N. E. Hist, and Genealog.
Reg., in 1851, by Hon. John Wentworth
of Chicago, and afterwards embodied in
the Wentworth Genealogy, privately print-
ed, in 2 vols., 1S70, and soon to be pub-
lished in an enlarged form, in 3 vols., by
the same gentleman.

This lady was Madame Christine Le
Beau, a daughter of Richard Otis of Do-
ver, carried to Canada when an infant
three months old.

A correspondent of Farmer and Moore's
Collections, Vol. III., p. 100, says that
" about the year 1720, Capt. Thomas Ba-
ker of Northampton, in the County of
Hampshire, in Massachusetts, set out
with a scouting party of thirty-four men,
passed up the Connecticut river, and
crossed the height of land to Pemige-
wasset river. He here discovered a par-
ty of Indians, whose sachem was called
Walternummus, whom he attacked and
destroyed."

That this date should probably be 1712,
instead of 1720, is shown by Dr. Bouton
in N. H. Provincial Papers, II., 635,
where it is found in a transcript from the
Legislative Journal of Massachusetts, in
May of the former year, that £10 was
voted to " Thomas Baker, commander of
a company of marching forces in the late
expedition against the Enemy at Coos,
and from thence to the west branch of
the Merrimack river, and so to Dunsta-
ble, in behalf of himself and Company
for one enemy Indian besides that which
they scalped, which seems so very prob-
able to be slain." On the 11th of June
following, the same assembly voted £20
"additional allowance " for still others
of the enemy killed, on their own (i. e.
the enemy's) showing. To both Gov.
Dudley consented.

It was in this expedition that Capt.
Baker came upon and surprised a camp
of eight Indians at the confluence of a
small stream with thePemigewasset, be-
tween Plymouth and Campton, which
has since, in remembrance of the exploit,
borne the name of Baker's river. Pen-
hallow says the number of the enemy
was eight, and that all were slain with-
out the loss of a man. CCoH. N. H. Hist.

CAPT. THOMAS BAKER AND MADAME CHRISTINE, HIS WIFE.

Soc. I., SO]. This must have been early
in, May, 1712. The writer in Farmer and
Moore, above quoted, says that Walter-
nummus. the chief, and Capt. Baker lev-
elled and discharged their pieces at each
other at the same instant; that the ball
from the Indian's gun grazed Capt. Ba-
ker's left eyebrow, doing no injury, while
Baker shot the sachem through the
breast, who leaped high in the air and
fell instantly dead. They found a wig-
wam filled with beaver, of which they
took as much as they could carry, and
burned the rest. According to Penhal-
low, there were in Capt. Baker's compa-
ny fifty men, instead of thirty-four. If
so, the success of the exploit was not sur-
prising.

At that time Capt. Baker lived in his
native town of Northampton. In 1715,
he married Madame Le Beau, and was
still residing there. But in 1719 he rep-
resented Brookfield in the Massachusetts
Legislature ; and about 172.1 he removed to
Dover, which continued to be his home
thenceforth until his death, probably in
1753. What the records of that town
would disclose concerning his subse-
quent career, the writer would be glad to
know. Of his history little enough is on
record. Tradition has accorded him the
character of a brave and successful scout.
It is probable that this was not his first
expedition, as an inexperienced man
would not be likely to command such an
one, and equally probable it was not his
last.

His sword, with the initials, "T. B.,"
inlaid in the blade with gold, with the
device of an eagle in a circle, and giving
evidence of having seen hard service, is
in the museum of the New Hampshire
Antiquarian Society. We come now to
the history of
Madame Christine, Captain Baker's

WltE.

On the night of the 27th of June, 1689,
the Indians fell on Dover, and wiped out
their long-cherished sense of injury with
a bloody hand. Belknap says there were
five garrisoned houses in Dover at that
time. One of these belonged to Capt.
Richard Otis. He was an Englishman
by birth, and was made an inhabitant of

Boston, May 2S, 1655, but was taxed at
Dover the next year. For thirty-three
years he had been one of the leading men
of the town. He had been thrice mar-
ried. His first wife was Rose, daughter
of Antony Stoughton ; his second, Shua,
daughter of James Hurd; his third, prob-
ably a young woman, was Grizell, daugh-
ter of James and Margaret Warren. She
had at the time of the attack a daughter,
born in March previous, who had been
named Margaret. Richard Otis was
slain, his house rifled and burned, and
his wife and child carried captives to
Canada.

There Mrs. Otis embraced the Roman
Catholic religion, being baptized May 9,
1693, by the name of Mary Madeline
Warren, and was married on the 15th of
October following to Philip Robitail,* a
Frenchman, by whom she had several
children, and died at a great age. The
infant Margaret was taken in charge by
the French, baptized by the name of
Christine, educated in a Roman Catholic
nunnery, but declined to take the veil.
At the age of sixteen she was married to
one Le Beau, a Frenchman, by whom
she had certainly two, and possibly
three, children.

She entertained a strong desire to visit
her native laud and be among her own
people. How long she lived with Le
Beau is not known. But in 1714 she
was a widow, and, taking advantage of
an exchange of prisoners, she returned
to Dover. The Romanists would not al-
low her to take her children, the eldest
of which could not have been more than
eight years old, and a considerable estate
which she possessed she had to abandon.

How much her remembrance of Capt.
Thomas Baker had to do with her desire
to return to New England we shall never
know. When he was carried to Canada,

* This name is given as Nobitail, in
Coll. N. H. Hist. Soc, VIII., 407, but is
incorrect. I learn from Hon. John
Wentworth that the name Robitaile is not
infrequent in Canada; that the Hon. Mr.
Robitaile was, not long since, a member
of the Canadian Parliament, and that a
Dr. Robitaile recently graduated from
the medical department of Harvard Uni-
versity.

CAPT. THOMAS BAKER AND MADAME CHRISTINE, HIS WIFE. 19

in 1704, she was barely fifteen years old,
and unmarried. Whether she saw him
before or after her marriage, which oc-
curred within the first two years after
his capture, or whether she saw him at
all in Canada, is equally uncertain. It is
assumed that she did, because»certain it
is that in the year 1715. being the next
after her return, she is found at North-
ampton as Capt. Baker's wife. At that
time he had led his scouting party into
" the Cohos country," had received his
bounty and established his fame.

At Northampton Madame Christine re-
nounced the Romish faith and united
with the Congregational church, then
under the pastoral care of Rev. Solomon
Stoddard, from which time she seems to
have been called by the English name of
Christina. It would appear that tidings
of this renunciation did not reach Can-
ada for many years.

At length, on the 27th of June, 1727,
at which time Mrs. Baker had been six
years a resident of Dover, M. Seguenot,
who had been her own and her mother's
confessor at Montreal, prepared and for-
warded to her a letter of remonstrance
and entreaty, exhorting her to abjure the
faith to which she had apostatized and
return to the church of Rome. The let-
ter was written in French, and contained
an elaborate presentment of the claims of
k * the Mother Church," and of the argu-
ments commonly nsed ' against Protest-
ant Christianity, chiefly composed of the
calumnies and assumptions that had been
used against Luther and Calvin. By this
letter we learn that her mother, Madame
Robitail, was then living, and that one
of her own children, a daughter by Le
Beau, had recently died. M. Seguenot
advised her to show his letter to her min-
isters, thinking, doubtless, that as it con-
tained profuse references to ancient and
unusual authorities, they would be as lit-
tle able as herself to answer him.

At that time the Rev. Jonathan Clash-
ing was pastor of the church in Dover.
He was, in 1727, thirty-seven years of
age, and in the tenth year of a pastorate
which lasted fifty-two years, the last
two of which he had Jeremy Belknap for
a colleague. He was a graduate of Har-

vard College, 1712, and a scholarly man
in the learning of his time, but it is
doubtful if he was acquainted with the
French language, and altogether improb-
able that he possessed the historical vol-
umes needful to make a conclusive reply
to M. Seguenot's letter. The letter was
placed in the hands of some competent
person who translated it into English.

The following year William Burnett
was transferred from the governorship
of New York and New Jersey to that of
Massachusetts and New Hampshire. He
was the eldest son of the celebrated Gil-
bert Burnett, Bishop of Sarum, the his-
torian of the Reformation in England
and of his own time, the trusted minister
and friend of William III., for whom his
son was named by the king himself, who
stood god-father at his baptism. Gover-
nor Burnett was an accomplished schol-
ar, possessed a clear head, ready wit and
a majestic presence. He came to his go v-
ernment in Boston on the 13th of July,
1728, but did not enter his Province of
New Hampshire till, probably, April 19,
1729.* He died in Boston Sept. 7, fol-
lowing. From certain causes, New
Hampshire was high in his favor, and
Massachusetts under his displeasure.

Gov. Burnett never had any personal
acquaintance with Mrs. Baker, By some
means he was made acquainted with the
character of M. Seguenot's letter, and the
circumstances to which it related. Al-
though a churchman, he was by educa-
tion and disposition of mind favorably
inclined to the Calvinists. He expressed
a desire to see the letter, which was ac-
cordingly laid before him, and he pre-
pared in French an equally elaborate re-
ply, refuting the Romish priest's argu-
ments, and exposing his falsifications of
history. This was dated Jan. 2, 1729,
and was addressed to Mrs. Baker, with
leave to make such use of. it as she
deemed best, but concealing himself as
the writer, and subscribing himself her
" unknown but humble servant." This

*He made his speech to the Council
and House of Representatives Tuesday,
Apr. 22. Adams, Annals of Ports., says
he visited N. H. Sept. 7, 1729; but that
was the day he died in Boston.

MARY AND MARTHA.

letter soon was. and the former was
again, translated into English, and both
were published, with a clumsy explana-
tion by the bookseller, by "D. Hench-
man, at the corner shop over against the
Brick Meeting-House in Cornhill:
MDCCXXIX." This corner shop, by
the way, was the same building now oc-
cupied by A. Williams & Co., opposite
the Old South Church, and was built in
1712. Both were re-printed in the eighth
volume of the N. H. Historical Society's
Collections ; and the original correspon-
dence is in the Boston Athenaeum.

On the 18th of Oct., 1734, Mrs. Baker
petitioned the Governor and Council of
New Hampshire for leave to keep a
"house of public entertainment," which
was granted on the 9th of May the next
year. In 1737, she petitioned Gov.
Belcher and the Honorable Council "to
grant her a tract of land in this Province
[N. H.], of such contents as you shall in
your wisdom and goodness see meet,"
setting forth that she was captured in
her infancy, lived many years among the
French in Canada, and that she had pur-
chased her liberty " with the loss of all
her estate, which was not inconsidera-
ble;" that since her return to New Eng-

land she had met with many misfortunes
and hardships, and had several children,
which she might find burdensome to
maintain, "especially considering that
she was not in such comfortable circum-
stances as she had formerly lived in."
The petition was, March 16, 1737, " or-
dered to lie for consideration till next
session." and does not appear to have
been again taken up.

The " several children " above referred
to were six. One of these was Col. Otis
Baker of Dover, who died in 1801. He
represented Dover in the State Legisla-
ture in 1770. '72, '73 and '75, and under
the revolutionary government; was
Judge of the Court of Common Pleas,
1773-1785. State Senator two years, mem-
ber of the Committee of Safety, 1776, '77,
and Colonel of the 2d New Hampshire
Regiment.

Lydia, daughter of Col. Otis Baker,
married Col. Amos Cogswell of Dover,
whose daughter, also Lydia, married
Paul Wentworth, Esq., of Sandwich,
and was the mother of Hon. John Went-
worth of Chicago.

Mrs. Christina Baker died in Dover,
Feb. 23, 1773, having nearly completed
her 84th year.

MART AND MARTHA.

BY LAURA GARLAND CARR.

" The sky is clear, the air is cool,

The birds are full of glee,
The dew has dried from off the grass,

The hills are fair to see ;
Come, leave your sewing, Martha Gray,

And roam the fields with me ! "

" Ah, Mary. I would gladly go,

But see this work to do !
These yards and yards to baste and stitch,

And all this plaiting, too,
Before the dress I need so much

Will bear the critic's view."

MARY AND MARTHA. 21

" But, Martha, while you're delving here

These rare June days speed by,
Such days! when God seems reaching down,

And heaven's own glories nigh!
Come, live this golden day with me
And let the trimmings lie! "

" Nay, Mary, that will never do ;

I am not brave to dare
The whole gay world in quaker dress

Like that you choose to wear;
So I must work away at home

Though earth and skies are fair.

" Martha, you say that you believe

When these frail forms decay
The thinking mind lives on and on

In realms of endless day,
And all the good it gathers up

It bears along its way.

" And yet, to deck this fading form

You spend your time and care,
And let the living spirit starve,

Shut off from all that's rare;
Bending its Godlike powers down

To less than empty air."

"I know, friend Mary, what you say

Is very good and true,
And yet, the folks that live your way

You'll find are strangely few,
While thousands, wiser far than I,

Live on just as I do.

"And so I join the crowd, although

I like your way the best;
But 'tis so hard to face the world —

Its ridicule and jest —
To know they write you down as k odd,'

' Strong-minded,' 'queerly-dressed."

So Martha turned to her machine,

And straightened cloth and thread,
Then off, through weary lengths of seam

The shining needle sped ;
While Mary, out beneath the trees,

Gleaned happy thoughts instead.

CHURCHES IN HOPKINTON.

C HUB CHE S IN HO PRINT ON.

BY C. C. LORD.

THE CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH.

One of the conditions upon which the
original proprietors of the town of Hop-
kinton received their grant was an agree-
ment "to build and furnish a convenient
meeting house and settle a learned and
orthodox minister." In the first plan of
the division of lots, the land was parcel-
ed out upon opposite sides of four roads,
diverging from a common centre towards
the four cardinal points of the compass.
By this arrangement, i; the minister's"
lot was the first " on the north range on
the west side." The fifth lot in regular
order on the same range and side was al-
so a k ' ministerial lott."

The first settlers in Hopkinton came
here probably as soon as 1739. At a pub-
lic meeting held in the house of Timothy
Knowlton, on the 24th of May, the same
year, it was voted to 'build and furnish a
meeting house by the last of the follow-
ing October, said meeting house to be
"thirty-five ft. in length, twenty-five ft.
in breadth, and eight ft. between joints,
with a basil roof." This house was not
built. Troubles incident to frontier life
came on, and twenty-seven years passed
away before a church was erected. In
the mean while the people worshipped
in Putney's Fort, which stood near the
angle of the roads diverging northwardly
and easterly on the top of Putney's Hill,
on land now occupied by Mrs. L. A.
Stanwood, and where the first settled
minister in town was ordained.

The first church was built in the year
1766. It was fifty feet long, thirty-eight
broad, and the posts were twenty-two
feet. Eight years more passed away be-
fore a'pulpit and pews Avere added. Five
hundred pounds, " old tenor," were orig-
inally appropriated for the erection of
this house. A depreciated state of the
currency made this appropriation equiv-

alent to something over $1000. On the
5th of February. 1789, the church was
burned. A local difference of feeling en-
gendered a dispute which terminated in
a crime. The first centre of the town
was on Putney's Hill. Increase of pop-
ulation and incident circumstances gave
a prominence and preference to the spot
where the village now is. The first
church was built on the site of the pres-
ent Congregational house of worship.
Some, of course, were dissatisfied. A
certain young man testified to his dissent
by burning the building. He was pun-
ished for a time by confinement in jail,
and at labor. At a town meeting, May 8,
1789, it was voted to forgive him, his fa-
ther binding him to labor for the town
till satisfaction was rendered. The soci-
ety of worshippers, thrown out of doors
by the destruction of their meeting-house,
accepted for a time the offer of Benjamin
Wiggin, taverner, to open his barn for
their accommodation. The house of
Benjamin Wiggin is still standing, nest
building westerly to the Episcopal church.
It was in front of Benjamin Wiggin's,
under the trees now standing, that the
Rev. Jacob Cram, third minister in the
town, was ordained, February 25, 1789.

In less than four months from the burn-
ing of the first house, a second one was
erected. The old controversy was reviv-
ed. It had only partially culminated on
the day of the fire. A commitiee, con-
sisting of Nathan Sargent, Samuel Far-
rington, John Jewett, John Moore. Isaac
Chandler, James Buswell, Benjamin B.
Darling, Enoch Eastman, and Joshua
Morse, had reported on February 2, 1789,
as follows ;

" After we have considered the matter
respecting the meeting-house. We have
examined the rates and we find the east
end of the town pays about 8 pounds in
fifty in the minister tax more than the

CHURCHES IN HOPKINTON.

west end, and is eight parts in number
more. Also the travel is thirty-six miles
farther to the common lot on the Hill, so
called, than where it now stands, accord-
ing to our computation. As those two
places are the only ones picked upon by
the committee, therefore we think the
meeting-house ought not to be moved."

Three days after, the meeting-house
having been destroyed that morning, it
was decided at a meeting held at thejpub-
lic house of Mr. Babson, and adjourned
to his " barn-yard," to refer the settle-
ment of the local dispute to the select-
men of Gilmanton, Linesborough and
Washington. B} r this time several sites
were proposed for the permanent loca-
tion of a meeting-house. The disinter-
ested committee of gentlemen from
abroad reported verbatim et literatim as
follows :

" To the Town of Hopkinton, Gentlemen :

lk We, your Committee appointed to fix
upon a Suitible Plac in your Town for
you to build a meeting hous upon, do Re-
port that we have Taken a View of the
Principle part of your Town, and the
Situation of Each Part of the Same, and
have found it to be attended with diffi-
culty Rightly to Settle the matter in such
a way that Each part of the Town
Should have theare Equality of Privil-
eges. The Senter of a Town in a general
way is to be attended to in these Cases,
but we are informed the Senter of the
Land in your Town Cannot be Regarded
for the above purpose; thearefore we
have taken a View of the other Spots of
ground Nominated by the Several Parts
of the Town ; (viz.) the Connor near Mr.
Burbank's, the Hill, the Spot by the
School Hous, and the old meeting Hous
Spot, and Considered them thus : it ap-
pears to us that the Spot by Mr. Bur-
bank's will accomedate the Southwest
Part of the Town only; as to the Hill, it
appears to us that it will accomedate the
Northwesterly part of the Town only ;
as to the Place by the School Hous, the
distance from the old Spot is so small it
is not worth attending to. Thearefore,
we, the Subscribers, are uuanimus of the
oppinion that near the Spot wheare the
old meeting Hous Stood will be the most
Convenient Place for you to build a Meet-
ing Hous upon.

" Hopkinton, February 20, 1769.

PETER CLARK, )

EZEK1EL HOIT, ^Committee."

JEREMIAH BACON, J

The above report being accepted, the
new meeting-house was erected prompt-
ly. It was 62x46 feet, and had a tower

about twelve feet square at each end. It
had seven entrances in all — two in each
tower and three in front. It had the old-
fashioned high pulpit, sounding-board,
gallery, and square pews. A few of the
front pews, according to custom, were of
better finish. With the addition of a
belfry and bell in 1811, the structure re-
mained substantially intact till 1839,
when it was remodeled into the form of
the present church, which was dedicated
on December 26th of the same year. A
town clock was placed in the tower of
the remodeled church.

The first church music was congreg a-
tional. The hymns were often "deacon-
ed" by some person whose superior mu-
sical attainments were popularly recog-
nized. In time people began to desire
something better. Musical societies, in
different parts of New England were
having their influence. The old '"Cen-
tral" society, organized at Concord,
contained members from Hopkinton.
At a town meeting September 8, 1783,
it was voted that Thomas Bayley,
Daniel Tenny, Jacob Spofford, Jonathan
Quimby, Jr., Nathaniel Clement, and
Isaac Bayley '• should sit in the singing
pew, to lead in singing and to take in
such singers as they thought proper."
With a proper social stimulus, progress
in music advanced to a marked degree.
The church choir sometimes included as
many as fifty voices. Various instru-
ments were used as accompaniments. In
1800, there were four bass viols, to say
nothing of violins, clarinets, and other
instruments, in the choir. There were
notable singers, players and composers
in the olden time. Among them were
Isaiah Webber, Jeremiah Story, and
Isaac Long. Orchestral music continued
to be employed in the Congregational
church till about 1850, when a seraphine
was purchased and put in the gallery.
In 1872, the seraphine was superseded
by an elegant organ at a cost of $1800.
A Sunday-school was opened at Hopkin-
ton in 1817, in the school house at Far-
rington's Corner. About 1821, another
school was opened on Beech Hill. In
1S22, a Sunday School was opened in the
church. In 1848, a constitution was

CHURCHES IN HOPKINTON.

adopted and regular officers chosen.
Stephen Sargent was the first superin-
tendent under the new regulation.

In 1757, there were but ten members of
the^church. Now the church, society,
and Sunday School are large and flour-
ishing. The list of pastors ministering
to this church since its organization is
as follows : — James Scales, ordained No-
vember 23, 1757; dismissed July 4, 1770.
Elijah Fletcher, Westford, Mass., ordain-
ed January 27, 1773 ; died April 8. 1786.
Jacob Cram, Hampton Falls, ordained
February 25, 1789; dismissed January 6,
1792. Eathan Smith. South Hadley,
Mass., installed March 11, 1800; dismiss-
ed December 1G, 1814. Roger C. Hatch,
Middletown, Conn., ordained October 21,
1818; dismissed June 26, 1832. Moses
Kimball, a native of this town, installed
May 7, 1834; dismissed July 15,1846.
Edwin Jennison, Walpole, installed June
6, 1847; dismissed September 5, 1849.
Christopher M. Cordly, Oxford, Eng.,
ordained September 5, 1849 ; dismissed
February 4, 1852. Marshall B. Angier,
Southborough, Mass., ordained June 8,
1853 ; dismissed March 22. 1860. Edwin
W. Cook, Townsend, Mass., installed
March 6, 1861 ; dismissed December 13,
1864. William H. Cutler, Lowell. Mass.,
ordained December 20, 1865 ; dismissed
May 8, 1867. J. K. Young, D.D., of La-
conia, supplied from June, 1867, till Oc-
tober, 1874. Clarendon A. Stone. South-
borough, Mass., installed December 29,
1874.

The west part of the town was the lo-
cation of a Congregational meetinghouse
as early as 1803. This house was of the
usual spacious, uncouth style of archi-
tecture prevailing at the time, and stood
at Campbell's Corner. There does not
appear to have been any separate organ-
ization of the church connected with it.
It was taken down to be rebuilt into the
present Calvinist Baptist church.

In 1834, Dea. Amos Bailey, of West
Hopkinton, died, willing a large portion
of his property to the Congregational
church. One-half of this bequest was to
be paid to any society maintaining preach-
ing in the west part of the town. In the
hope of securing the aid, a society was

organized with its head-quarters at Con-
toocook. The Union meeting-house was
used, and Rev. David Kimball, of Con-
cord, employed to preach. However, it
could not be made to appear upon trial
that Contoocook was in that part of the
town implied in the will of Deacon Bai-
ley, and the bequest was lost. The Sec-
ond Congregational Society, as it was
called, kept up a nominal existence till
the year 1851.

The old-fashioned, two-storied farm-
house standing near the old grave-yard
on Putney's Hill, and occupied by the
descendants of Moses Rowell, is said to
have been the first parsonage in the town,
the residence of the Rev. James Scales,
the first minister. The land publicly
held for the benefit of religion was at
length disposed of by lease. On March 8,
1796, the town voted to lease it ,l as long
as wood shall grow and water run." The
income was divided among the different
churches.

THE BAPTIST CHURCH.

Diversity of religious belief is natural
among men. Although Hopkinton was
settled by people nominally orthodox in
faith, actual dissenters from the popular
belief soon began to assert themselves.
The first gathering of an organized Bap-
tist church was effected tnrough the mis-
sionary labors of Dr. Hezekiah Smith.
At first this was a branch of the Baptist
church in Haverhill, Mass., the subordi-
nate organization occurring in 1769. On
May 8, 1771, the church at Hopkinton
became independent. In its earlier days,
the influence of this church was widely
extended. Branch churches were organ-
ized in Bow, Goffstown. and London-
derry. The organization included peo-
ple of Bedford, Merrimack, Derrytield
(now Manchester), and Nottingham
West (now Hudson). Among the early
laborers in the local Baptist field were
Elders John Peake, Job Seamans, Thom-
as Paul, and John Hazen. Dr. Shepherd
was also an advocate of Baptist doc-
trines.

The first years of this church were at-
tended with trials. The war of the Rev-
olution depressed it, but it rallied again
in 1789. It received a new impulse from

CHURCHES IN HOPKINTON.

a great revival in 1793. The walls of a
new church were enclosed in 1795. but
the edifice was not completed till at least
twenty years after. This house was very
much like most of the country meeting-
houses built at the time, being huge,
square, high, and galleried. It stood on
a spot of ground northerly opposite the
house of Mr. Jonathan French, near the
convergence of a number of roads, near
the foot of the southern slope of Putney's
Hill. The Baptist church suffered at
length from internal doctrinal dissen-
sions. At first, the members of this
church were committed to no special
Christian doctrine except such as are
held in general by all Baptists. In time,
they began to discuss the subtler themes
clustering around Calvinism and Armin-
ianism. A division of sentiments arose.
The controversy reached its height about
the year 1322, when the Rev. Michael
Carlton, a pronounced Calvinist, became
pastor of the church. In 1823, the seism
between the Calvinists and Armiuians re-
sulted in a separation. Deacon Jonathan
Fowler led off a large party which form-
ed the nucleus of the present Free Bap-
tist church. Since then, the two Baptist
bodies have held on in their unmolested
ways. In 1831, the Calvinists built a
new church, of modern country style, in
the westerly part of Hopkinton village,
about a mile east of their old place
of worship. Their new church was
framed out of the timbers of the old
West Congregational meeting-house.
The old Baptist meeting-house was taken
in bulk or in parts to Concord, where it
fortned.a part of a new structure. The
Baptist church in Hopkinton village was
neatly repaired in 1854. A combined
parsonage and vestry was erected nearly
opposite the church in 1869.

The Calvinist Baptist church, in com-
mon with others, has felt the depressing
effects of the later changes in the tide of
population, though more and less than
some. Its congregation has diminished.
It has had important donations. The
widow of tbe late Samuel Smith, about
1808. left a generous benefit to this church,
Its cabinet organ was given in 1871 by
Geo. H. Crowell, of Brattleboro, Vt. Its

bell was a present by Mrs. Sarah Jones,
of Hopkinton, in 1876. The list of pas-
tors of this church is as follows :— Elder
Elisha Andrews, settled in 1795 ; preached
half the time for three years. For seven-
teen years after tbe church was supplied
mostly by its deacons. Elder Abner
Jones settled in 1815; resigned in 1821.
Michael Carlton, ordained June 27, 1822 ;
resigned September 14, 1832. Rev. A. J.
Foss, installed March 27. 1833; remained
3 years. L. B. Cole, M. D., ordained and
installed April IS, 1837; remained two
years. Rev. Samuel Cooke, May 19,
1839; remained six years. King S.Hall,
no date of ordination ; resigned Septem-
ber 2S, 1851. Rev. Samuel J. Carr,
March 14, 1852; remained four years.
Rev. J. E. Brown, April 2, 1857 ; resigned
September 7, 1862. C. W. Burnham, or-
dained October 14, 1863; last Sunday in
August, 1871. Rev. Abraham Snyder,
January 1, 1872; resigned Dec. 27,
1874. William S. Tucker, Sept. 28. 1875.

THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH.

In 1800, Hopkinton had advanced to
a position of wealth and influence. So-
cial beliefs and forms were multiplying
in proportion. In the village were
many families of distinction. A large
number of these were Episcopalians by
faith or practice. There was also a quo-
ta of Episcopalians among the farming
population. About this time, or later,
also, a number of prominent families came
over to the Episcopalians from the Cal-
vinists. In 1803,an Episcopalian society,
called Christ's Church, was organized,
worshipping in the Court House. Trie
Rev. Samuel Meade was the superinten-
dent of this movement. Rev. William
Montague, Rev. Robert Fowle, Rt. Rev.
Alexander Griswold, and many others,
officiated for Christ's Church for longer
or shorter periods. In 1826, Rev. Moses
B. Chase became the rector. During his
leadership important changes took
place. A new parish was formed. In
1827 it was incorporated under the name
of St. Andrew's Church. The first
wardens were John Harris and William
Little. The first vestrymen were Mat-
thew Harvey, Horace Chase, Nathaniel
Curtis and J. M. Stanley. A new stone

CHURCHES IN HOPKINTON.

church was begun the same year. It
was dedicated June 25, 182S. Rev. Mr.
Chase continued rector till 1841. The
church flourished during his ministry.
In later years it declined with the busi-
ness prosperity of the town. However,
the church has been open most of the
time. Important improvements . have
been made upon the interior of St. An-
drew's church. During the ministry of
Rev. Mr. Schouler the chancel was re-
constructed. It was further improved,
and the church frescoed and painted in
1875.

The first organ in town was set up in
St. Andrew's church about 1S46. It was
purchased of the Rt. Rev. Carlton
Chase; it had been his parlor oigan.
The instrument is still in its accustomed
place in the unused gallery of the church.
It did musical service for many years.
In 1874 a new and handsome organ was
set up at the left of the chancel, at a cost
of about $2000. This church is much
indebted to the energy and liberality of
many of its friends at home and abroad.
Its elegant font was obtained through
the exertions of the late Elizabeth T.
Lerued, about 1866. The present organ
was secured by the energy of Miss C. C.
P. Lerned. The altar and lecturn cloths,
together with the chandeliers and lamps,
were the gift of Mrs. G. T. Roberts, of
Philadelphia, Pa., about two years ago.

Since 1841 there have been clergymen
of St. Andrew's :— Rev. Calvin Wolcott,
one year from the second Sunday in
May, 1842; Rev. Silas Blaisdell, 1845 to
1847; Rev. Henry Low; Rev. Edward
F. Putnam; Rev. N. F. Ludlum ; Rev.
Francis Chase one year to Novem-
ber 3, 1862; Rev. William Schouler,
July 1, 1865 to Jan. 29, 1868. Since
Feb. 2, 1868, the church has been sup-
plied by the Rev. H. A. Coit, D. D., of
St. Paul's School, Concord. During the
time Rev. Hall Harrison has been the al-
most, or quite, constant rector.

THE FREE WILL BAPTIST CHURCH.

We have already mentioned the defec-
tion in the original Baptist church which
resulted in the separation of a party, led
by Dea. Jonathan Fowler, who organized
the Free Will Baptist church. This or-

ganization took definite form on the 17th
of September of the year of separation,
or 1823. The location of tins church at
Contoocook is suggestive in view of the
valuable social results wrought by it.
In the earlier times Contoocook had an
unenviable reputation. The highest so-
cial laws were largely set at defiance.
A minister on his way to preach at Con-
toocook was informed he was going to a
bad place. Now all is changed. The
influence of the Free Will Baptist church
has been a prominent agent in promoting
an improved state of society.

The original organization was known
as the Union Baptist church. It con-
sisted of twelve members. On the 28th
of September, 1826, Jonathan Fowler
and Thomas White were chosen deacons.
The society was incorporated on the 30th
of June, 1S27. A meeting-house was
constructed the same year; it was raised
April 11, finished October 27 and dedi-
cated October 29. Various improve-
ments have from time to time been made
on this house since its erection. In 1872
a bell was added.

Rev. David Harriman was pastor of
this church from its foundation till May
10. 1828. Rev. Arthur Caverno succeed-
ed till February 24, 1833. Rev. David
Moody followed till February 27, 1837;
Rev. Hiram Holmes supplied till Novem-
ber 30, 1839; Rev. John L. Sinclair con-
tinued a pastor till November 11, 1839 ?
Rev. Abner Coombs was installed pastor
July 16, 1840; dismissed May 15, 1842.
Rev. D. Sidney Frost became pastor May
19, 1842; dismissed April 17, 1845. Rev.
Barlow Dyer became pastor May 18,
1845; dismissed March 4, 1849. Rev. S.
T. Catlin became pastor December 20,
1849; dismissed in 1851. Rev. Francis
Reed became pastor May 20,1851; dis-
mised in March, 1859. Rev. C. H. With-
aiu became pastor the first of July, 1859;
dismissed June 2, 1861. Rev. Thomas
Keniston and others suppled from June,
1861, till May, 1863. Rev. Asa Ranlett
became pastor May 23, 1863 ; dismissed
in October. 1865. Rev. John L. Sinclair
became pastor a second time in January,
1867; dismissed in March, 1869. Rev.
George W. Knapp became pastor in

CHURCHES IN

March, 1869; dismissed in March, 1873
John C. Osgood became pastor in June,
1873; dismissed in March, 187S. Rev.
C. W. Griffin became pastor May 13,

1S78.

THE UNIVERSALIST CHURCH.

In the early part of the present cen-
tury there was a great revival of Uni-
versalism in New Hampshire. Revs.
Elhanan Winchester and Hosea Ballou
preached the doctrine far and wide, gain-
ing many hearers and making many con-
verts. The church grew and multiplied
in many places. Previously to 1840 there
were many persons in Hopkinton who
entertained some sort of preference for
the Universalist form of religion. A
church to be known as the Union meet-
ing-house was projected as early as 1835.
On the 5th of December of that year a
meeting was held at the house of Clem-
ent Beck, at " Stumptield," to take into
consideration the erection of a church.
Moses Hoyt, 2d, was chosen moderator,
James Huse was clerk, and Moses Hoyt,
Moses Copp and Nathaniel Colby were
made a building committee. The enter-
prise was effected by the erection of
shares, which were sold at $25 each.
The whole number of shares sold was
thirty-one. Representatives of different
faiths in the vicinity took shares. The
meeting-house was built in 1836. on a lot
north of the road leading from Hopkin-
ton village to Henniker, east of the
house of Mr. Charles Barton, about
three miles from the village.

There was never any settled minister
in this society. Among those preaching
here more or less, were Revs. A. A. Mi-
ner, J. P. Atkinson, N. R. Wright aud
J. F. Witherel. The meeting-house
was seriously damaged by fire on the
5th of February, 1837, and was subse-
quently repaired. In 1865 the house was
sold to Robert Wilson, and was moved
to "Clement's Hill," where it was re-
modeled into a barn belonging to Alfred
Hastings. The society had dwindled in
common with many others in districts
wholly rural.

A Second Universalist Society was or-
ganized shortly after the first. The new
organization had its headquarters at

HOPKINTON. . 27

Contoocook. A church, called a Union
house, was erected in 1837. It is now
used by the New Church, or Swedenbor-
gian Society. The Second Universalist
Society for a time had considerable vig-
or. Rev. J. F. Witherel was a settled
minister. A good deal of enterprise was
shown in the efforts for propagating the
faith. Mr. Witherel, in company with J.
Sargent, of Sutton, published the " Uni-
versalist Family Visitor," a monthly pe-
riodical. The first number was pub-
lished in April, 1841. The Visitor had
twelve pages, was of common tract
size, and set forth its favorite principles
with talent and vigor. We have not
been able to find any records of the Sec-
ond Universalist Society, which kept up
a nominal existence till quite late.

THE NEW JERUSALEM CHURCH.

The New Jerusalem Church, more
commonly called the New Church, was
founded through the missionary labors
of Rev. Abiel Silver, a native of this
town, who first preached a number of
discourses in the Union church at Con-
toocook, in the summer of 1851. Mr.
Silver was then a resident of Michigan,
visiting his old home and family scenes.
The appreciation of these discourses in-
duced a contribution in money to the
reverend gentleman, who returned the
equivalent in theological works of Eman-
uel Swedenborg, or collateral publica-
tions of the New Church.

In a year or two after further interest
in the New Church was awakened in
Contoocook and vicinity. Mr. Silver
returned and preached at length, and
finally concluded to make the village his
permanent place of residence. The
Union church, which had stood for some
years unoccupied by any regular society,
became a place of weekly worship under
Mr. Silver's ministrations. The interest
grew till the meeting-house was filled to
its utmost capacity. Hearers were found
present from various parts of Hopkinton
and surrounding towns. In 1857 a per-
manent organization was effected. On
the 24th of May of that year the Rev.
Thomas Worcester, of Boston, instituted
the society. The following are the
names of the original members of the

AN OLD TIME TRIP IN NEW HAMPSHIRE.

church : — Abiel Silver, Edna N. Silver,
Nathaniel L. Noyes, Sarah A. Noyes,
Mary Nichols, Rhoda Cutler, Sullivan
Hutchinson, Edna C. Silver, Charles
Gould, Erastus E. Currier, Lucv H.
Currier, Elizabeth C. Dean, Joseph Dow,
Asa Kimball, John Converse, Urania N.
Converse, Rhoda C. Putnam, Joanna L.
Chase, Alonzo Currier, Emily Currier.

Rev. Abiel Silver continued to preach
In Contoocook till April 4, 1858, building
during his residence in Contoocook the
house now occupied by John F. Jones,
Esq. On the 15th of August, 1858, the
Rev. George H. Marston, of Liming-
ton, Me., became the minister, contin-
uing till the month of October, 1862.
Since October, 1S71, the Rev. Charles
Hardon has been the regular minister of
the church.

During the times when this church
has been without a settled minister va-
rious persons have supplied the desk.
The services have been frequently, and
for months at a time, conducted by a
reader. Mr. W. Scott Davis has officiat-
ed a great deal in the capacity of reader.
This church has suffered a good deal by
removals and deaths. A Sunday-school
has been connected with the society
since its earlier existence.

THE METHODIST CHURCH.

The Methodists quite early had a foot-
hold in this town. In 1842 their allotted
portion of the ministers tax was very
small. Regular worship was held in the
Academy at the lower village. Revs.
Stephen Eastman, John English and Jo-

seph Hayes were among the ministers
supplying regularly. The Methodist
Biblical Institute, at Concord, furnished
preachers to a greater or less extent.
We have not been able to find any record
of this society, which abandoned regu-
lar services about 1850. Previously to
the year 1871 there had been a number of
Methodist families living for a longer or
shorter time at Contoocook. Preaching
had been sustaind also to some extent
during a few previous years. On the
20th of March, 1871, at a meeting held at
the house of George H. Ketchum, legal
organization was effected as follows :
Rev. L. Howard, President; George H.
Ketchum, Secretary; W. A.Patterson,
Treasurer; John F. Burnham, W. M.
Kempton and Samuel Curtice, Financial
Committee. The society purposing to
build a chnrch, on the 10th of the next
month, at a meeting at Mr. Kempton's,

D. N. Patterson, T. B. Hardy and Sam-
uel Curtice were made a building com-
mittee.

The church was erected the same year
at a cost of something over $2,000, on
land purchased by the society of Samuel
Curtice, and dedicated on the 16th of
November. It it a neat and tasty edifice.
The society, though small, is active.
The following have been preachers : —
Rev. L. Howard, from 1S70 to 1873 in-
clusive; Prof. J. B. Robinson, 1874; Rev.

E. Adams, D. D., 1875; Rev. Joel A.
Steele, 1876; Rev. L. Howard, 1877 and
1878.

AN OLD TIME TBIP IN NEW HAMPSHIBE.

BY HON. JOHN H. GOOD ALE.

That wide stretch of hilly country lying
between the Merrimack and Connecticut
rivers in this State was, a hundred and for-
ty years ago, a densely- wooded wilderness.
The few who would have ventured to oc-
cupy it well knew that so long as the
French remained in possession of Canada
this region was iu continual danger from

attacks by the Indians. In 1746 these at-
tacks had become so frequent and suc-
cessful that many of the settlements
commenced in the central and southern
parts of the State had been abandoned.
There remained on the Merrimack small
openings at Nashua, Litchfield, Concord,
Boscawen and Canterbury, and one at

AN OLD TIME TRIP

Hinsdale and another at Charlestown on
the Connecticut ; hut the entire midland
between these valleys was an unbroken,
heavily-wooded country.

A TRAMP THROUGH THE WILDERNESS.

In the fall of 1747 two explorers from
Dunstable, Nehemiah Lovewell and John
Gilson, started from the present site of
Nashua for the purpose of examining the
slope of the Merrimack, and of crossing
the height of land to Number Four, now
Charlestown, which was known as the
most northern settlement in the Connecti-
cut valley. Knowing the difficulties in
traversing hills and valleys mostly cov-
ered with underbrush and rough with
fallen timber and huge bowlders, they
carried as light an outfit as possible — a
musket and camp-blanket each, with rive
days' provisions. Following the Souhe-
gan to Milford and Wilton, they then
turned north ward, and crossing the height
of land in the limits of the present town
of Stoddard, had on the afternoon of the
third day their first view of the broad
valley westward, with a dim outline of
the mountains beyond. The weather
was clear and pleasant, the journey la-
borious but invigorating. On their
fourth night they camped on the banks
of the Connecticut, some ten miles
below Charlestown. At noon of the
next day they were welcomed at the
rude fort, which had already won renown
by the heroic valor of its little garrison.

A FRONTIER FORT.

At this time the fort at Number Four
was commanded by Capt. Phineas Ste-
vens, a man of great energy and bravery.
Lovewell and Gilson were the first visi-
tors from the valley of the Merrimack,
and their arrival was a. novelty. That
night, as in later days they used to re-
late, they sat up till midnight, listening
to the fierce struggles which the inmates
of this rude fortress, far up in the woods,
had encountered within the previous
eight months. The preceding winter
this fort had been abandoned, and the
few settlers had been compelled to re-
turn to Massachusetts. But Governor
Shirley felt that so important an outpost
should be maintained. As soon as the

IN NEW HAMPSHIRE.

melting of the deep snow in the woods
would permit, Capt. Stevens, with thirty
rangers, left Deerfield for Number Four,
and reached it on the last day of March.
The arrival was most fortunate. Hardly
was the fort garrisoned and the entranc-
es made secure when it was attacked by
a large force of French and Indians.
Led by Debeline, an experienced com-
mander, they had come undiscovered and
lay in ambush for a favorable moment
to begin the attack. But the faithful
dogs of the garrison gave notice of the
concealed foe. Finding they were dis-
covered the Indians opened a fire on all
sides of the fort. The adjacent log
houses and fences were set on fire.
Flaming arrows fell incessantly upon the
roof. The wind rose and the fort was
surrounded by flames. Stevens dug
trenches under the walls and through
these the men crept and put out the fires
that caught outside the walls.

REPULSE OF THE INDIANS.

For two days the firing had been kept
up and hundreds of balls had been lodged
in the fort and stockade. On the morn-
ing of the third day Debeline sent for-
ward a flag of truce. A French officer
and two Indians advanced and proposed
terras of capitulation, which were that
the garrison should lay down their arms
and be conducted prisoners to Montreal.
It was agreed that the two commanders
should meet and Capt. Stevens's answer
should be given. When they met, Deb-
eline, without waiting for an answer,
threatened to storm the fort and put ev-
ery man to the sword if a surrender was
not speedily made. Stevens replied that
he should defend it to the last. "Go
back," said the Frenchman, " and see if
your men dare fight any longer." Ste-
vens returned and put to the men the
question, " Will you fight or surren-
der?" They answered, " We will fight."
This answer was at once made known to
the enemy, and both parties resumed
arms. Severe fighting was kept up dur-
ing the day. The Indians, in approach-
ing the stockade were compelled to ex-
pose themselves. They had already lost
over a dozen of their number, while not

AN OLD TIME TRIP IN NEW HAMPSHIRE.

one had been killed in the fort and only
two wounded.

The French commander, reluctantly
giving up all hopes of carrying the for-
tification, returned toward Canada. The
cool intrepidity of the rangers saved
Number Four, and the news caused great
rejoicing throughout the New England
colonies. Sir Charles Knowles, then in
command of the fleet at Boston, sent
Capt. Stevens an elegant sword, and a
letter of commendation to the intrepid
soldiers. Subsequently, in compliment
to the English Commodore, Number
Four was called Charlestown. But
while no further attacks were made
upon the fort that year, the Indians con-
tinued to hover around this and the ad-
jacent settlements of Brattleboro and
Westmoreland. In August three men
were killed and one captured in going
from the fort down the river. Only a
few weeks before the arrival of Love-
well and his companion several settlers
were captured while harvesting and
carried away tQ Canada.

A STORM AMONG THE HILLS.

Tarrying several days with the garri-
son, during which the weather continued
clear and mild, the two explorers were
ready to return homeward. In a direct
line Dunstable was less than ninety
miles distant. With the needed supply
of salt pork and corn bread, Lovewell
and Gilson left Number Four at sunrise
on the 16th of November. The fallen
leaves were crisp with frost as they en-
tered the deep maple forests which skirt-
ed the hills lying east of the Connecticut
intervales. The days being short it was
necessary to lose no time between sun-
rise and sunset. The air was cool and
stimulated them to vigorously hurry for-
ward. Coming to a clear spring soon
after midday, Gilson struck a fire, and
resting for a half an hour, they sat down
to a marvelously good feast of broiled
salt pork and brown bread. One who
has never eaten a dinner under like con-
ditions can have no idea of its keen rel-
ish and appreciation.

It was now evident that a change of
the weather was at hand. The air was
growing colder and the sky was over-

cast with a thick haze. In returning it
had been their purpose to cross the wa-
ter-shed between the two valleys at a
more northern point, so as to reach the
Merrimack near the mouth of the Piscat-
aquog. Their course was to be only a
few degrees south ef east. Before night
the sleet began to fall, which was soon
changed to a cold, cheerless rain. Dark-
ness came on early and the two men hur-
ried to secure the best shelter possible.
With an ax this might have been made
comfortable; at least fuel could have
been procured for a comfortable fire. As
it was, no retreat could be found from
the chilling rain which now began to
fall in torrents. It was with difficulty
that a smouldering fire, more prolific of
smoke than heat could be kindled. India
rubber blankets, such as now keep the
scout and the sentry dry in the fiercest
storm, would have been a rich luxury to
these solitary pioneers. The owls, at-
tracted by the dim light, perched them-
selves overhead and hooted incessantly.
Before midnight the fire was extin-
guished, and the two men could only keep
from a thorough drenching by sitting
upright with their backs against a large
tree, and with their half-saturated blank-
ets drawn closely around them.

LOSING THE WAY.

Daylight brought no relief, as the rain
and cold rather increased, and the sleet
and ice began to encrust the ground.
After ineffectual attempts to build a fire
they eat a cold lunch of bread. A dark
mist succeeded the heavy rain and con-
tinued through the day. Both felt un-
certain of the direction they were travel-
ing, and every hour the uncertainty be-
come more perplexing. All day long
they hurried forward through the drip-
ping underbrush which was wetting
them to the skin. Night again set in,
and although the rain and wind had
somewhat abated, still it was impossible
to build and keep a fire sufficient to dry
their clothing, which was now saturated
with water.

The third morning came with a dense
fog still shrouding the hillsides and set-
tling into valleys. Stiff with the effects
of cold and fatigue, Lovewell and his

AN OLD TIME TRIP IN NEW HAMPSHIRE.

companion felt that with their scanty-
supply of food, now mainly salt pork,
they dared not await a change of weath-
er. Yet there was a vague feeling that
their journeying might be worse than
useless. Deciding on what they believed
a course due east they again hurried for-
ward over a broken region — an alterna-
tion of sharp hills, ledges, low valleys
and sometimes swamps, until a little
past mid-da3 r ,when descending a hill they
came upon the very brook where they
had camped forty hours before ! One
fact was now established— they had been
traversing in a circle. Thinking it use-
less to go further till the sun and sky
should appear, they set to work to build
a fire sufficient to dry their clothing
and to cook their raw pork. By dark
they had thrown up a light framework,
and by a diligent use of their knives had
procured a covering of birch bark. Pil-
ing the huge broken limbs in front they
lay down and fell asleep.

Scouts in the olden time were proverb-
ial for awakening on the slightest provo-
cation. Lovewell was aroused by what
he thought the rustling of a bear. Reach-
ing for his gun he saw the outline of an
animal climbing an oak just across the
brook. The first shot was followed by a
tumble from the tree. It proved a veri-
table raccoon, which, fattened on beech-
nuts, was " as heavy as a small sheep."

The fourth morning was not unlike
that of the day previous. The fog was
still dense, but it soon became evident
that the storm was past, and that the sun
would soon disperse the mists. Dressing
the raccoon, whose meat was security
against famine, they anxiously watched
the clearing up of the atmosphere. Sud-
denly the mists dissolved and the sun-
light touched the tops of the trees. The
pioneers hastened up a long slope east-
ward, and toward noon gained the crest
of a high ridge. The sky was now clear,
and climbing to the top of a tree, Gilson
announced that he could see some miles
to the east, a high and naked summit
which must mark the height of land they
were so anxiously seeking.

A SYLVAN DINNER.

With this solution of their difficulties

came the sense of hunger. Notwith-
standing the hardships of the three past
days they had eaten sparingly. The
remnant of their bread had been acci-
dentally lost the day previous, but this
was far more than compensated by the
rich, tender meat of the raccoon. Luck-
ily a supply of fat spruce knots was near
at hand. Gilson set himself to the work
of furnishing fuel and water, while Love-
well attended to the culinary duties.
The utensils of the modern hunter— fry-
ing pan, coffee pot, plate, spoon and
fork— were wanting. The only imple-
ment in their outfit which could be of
use was the jack-knife. The meat was
cut into pieces two thirds of an inch thick
and half the size of one's hand. Cutting
several sticks two feet long, and sharp-
ening them at each end, a piece of the
salt pork and then a piece of the coon's
meat were thrust upon the stick alternate-
ly in successive layers — so that in roast-
ing, the fat of the latter, as it dropped
down, basted and furnished an excellent
gravy to the former. One end of each stick
was thrust into the ground so as to lean
over the glowing coals. With occasional
turning the dinner was in half an ho^ur
ready to be served. Seating themselves
on the bowlder by the side of which they
had built the fire they fell to with sharp
appetices. Rarely was a feast more
heartily enjoyed.

NIGHT ON LOVEWELL'S MOUNTAIN.

It was past mid-day when the dinner
was finished. Walking with renewed
strength they reached the base of the
mountain. The ground was wet and
slippery and the climbing at times diffi-
cult, but while the sun was yet an hour
above the horizon the two men emerged
from the low thicket which lies above the
heavy growth, and stood upon the bald
summit. Like all New Hampshire peaks
whose altitude approaches three thou-
sand feet, the crest of the mountain was
of solid granite. The air had now grown
quiet and the clear sunlight illuminated
the landscape. The two explorers had
never looked wpon so wide and magnifi-
cent a panorama. Westward was the
far distant outline of a range now known
as the Green Mountains. To the north-

AN OLD TIME TRIP IX NEW HAMPSHIRE.

west were the bald crests of Ascutney
and Cardigan. On the north Kearsarge
was seen struggling to raise its head
above the shoulders of an intervening
range, and through the frosty atmos-
phere were revealed the sharp, snow-
white peaks of Franconia. Eastward
the highlands of Chester and Notting-
ham bounded the vision — while nearer
by reposed in quiet beauty the Uncanoo-
nucks, at that time a well-known land-
mark to every explorer.

Warned by the freezing atmosphere
they hastened down to a dense spruce
growth on the northeast side of the
mountain, and built their camp for the
night. For some cause, perhaps because
it was a sheltered nook, the tenants of
the forest gathered around. The grove
seemed alive with the squirrel, rabbit and
partridge. But the hunters were weary,
and as their sacks were still laden with
coon's meat, these new visitors were lett
unharmed. The curiosity with which
these wild tenants of the mountain lin-
gered around led the two men to believe
that they had never before approached
a camp-fire or seen a human form.

Just before daybreak Lovewell awoke
and telling his companion to pre-
pare for breakfast, returned to the sum-
mit of the mountain. It was important
to reach the Merrimack by the nearest
route, and he could better judge by re-
viewing the landscape at early dawn.
In after years he was wont to say that
the stars never seemed so near as when
he had gained the summit. The loneli-
ness of the hour suggested to him what
was probably the truth, that he and his
companion were the first white men who
had set foot on this mountain peak. It
is situated in the eastern part of the
present town of Washington, and its

symmetrical, cone-like form is familiar
to the eye of many a reader of the Gran-
ite Monthly. With the exception of
Monad nock and Kearsarge it is the high-
est summit in Southern New Hampshire,
and to-day it bears the well-known name
of Lovewell's Mountain.

THE RETURN TO DUNSTABLE.

Before Lovewell left the summit, the
adjacent woodlands became visible, and
looking eastward down into the valley
he saw only a few miles away a smoke
curling up from the depths of the forest.
It revealed the proximity either of a
party of savages or a stray hunter. Re-
turning to camp, breakfast was taken
hurriedly, and descending into the val-
ley they proceeded with the utmost cau-
tion. Reaching the vicinity of the smoke
they heard voices and soon after the rus-
tling of footsteps. Both dropped upon
the ground, and fortunately were screened
by a thick underbrush. A party of six
Indians passed within a hundred yards.
They were armed and evidently on their
way to the Connecticut valley. As soon
as they were beyond hearing the two
men proceeded cautiously to the spot
where the savages passed the night.
They had breakfasted on parched acorns
and the meat of some small animal, prob-
ably the rabbit.

Congratulating themselves on their
lucky escape from a winter's captivity in
Canada, Lovewell and his companion
continued their route over the rolling
lands now comprised in the towns of
Hillsborough, Deering.Weare and Goffs-
town to the Merrimack. From thence,
they readily reached their home in Dun-
stable. It may be well to add that Love-
well was a relative of the famous Capt.
John Lovewell, whose name is so well
known in colonial history.

THE

GRANITE MONTHLY.

A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, HISTORY AND
STATE PE OGRESS.

VOL. II.

AUGUST, 1878.

NO. 2.

HON. JOSEPH D. WEEKS.

In the last number of the Granite
Monthly there appeared a sketch and
accompanying portrait of Hon. David
H. Buffum, President of the State Sen-
ate. Appropriately following the same
we take as our subject of illustration for
this number Hon. Joseph D. Weeks of
Canaan, Senator from District Num-
ber Eleven, and the Democratic candi-
date for President of the Senate.

Mr. Weeks is the eldest son of Hon.
William Pickering Weeks of Canaan, a
well-known and successful lawyer of
Grafton County, and prominent member
of the Democratic party, to whom some
reference in this connection seems emi-
nently proper. He was a native of the
town of Greenland, born Feb. 22, 1803,
a son of Brackett and Sarah (Pickering)
Weeks. The families of Weeks and
Pickering from which he sprang, were
among the early and leading families of
that town, and their descendants now
constitute a very considerable propor-
tion of its population. He fitted for col-
lege at Gilmanton Academy, among his
schoolmates at which institution being
Profs. Edwin D. and Dyer H. Sanborn
and Dixi Crosby, and graduated at Dart-
mouth in the class of 1826, the late Chief

Justice Salmon P. Chase being a member
of the same class, and also his room-
mate. He studied law with Hayes &
Cogswell of South Berwick, Me., and
was admitted to the York County Bar
at Alfred in 1829, but immediately re-
moved to the town of Canaan and estab-
lished himself in practice. By diligent
application to business and careful at-
tention to the interests of his clients, he
soon secured a remunerative practice and
won a high reputation as a safe and judi-
cious counsellor. He continued in prac-
tice until 1861, a period of thirty-two
years, when he retired, taking up his
residence upon a large farm just below
the village, where he lived until his death
in 1870. He had devoted himself almost
exclusively to the labors of his profes-
sion, but his firm adherence to the prin-
ciples of the Democratic party, as well
as his high character and ability occa-
sioned a demand for his services in pub-
lic life at the hands of his fellow towns-
men of that political faith, by whom he
was chosen a representative to the Legis-
lature at several times between 1834 and
1851. He was elected to the State Sen-
ate in 1848 and 1849, and was chosen
President of the Senate for the latter

HON. JOSEPH D. WEEKS.

year. He also represented the town of
Canaan in the Constitutional Convention
of 1850. Mr. Weeks' principal competi-
tor in the legal profession was the late
Judge Jonathan Kittredge, who went
from Lyme to Canaan a few years after
Mr. Weeks located there, and remained
there in practice until his appointment
as a Justice of the Court of Common
Pleas, when he removed to Concord.
Opponents in politics as well as rivals in
the profession, the contests between the
two were numerous and at times most
exciting, enlisting the sympathies of
their personal and political friends and
adherents. Among those who were stu-
dents-at-law in the office of Mr. Weeks
may be mentioned Ex-Chief Justice Jon-
athan E. Sargent of Concord, as well as
his present partner, William M. Chase,
Esq., also, William T. Norris of Danbury,
and Caleb and Isaac N. Blodgett, the
former now a lawyer of Boston and the
latter of Franklin. Judge Sargent com-
menced practice in Canaan as a partner
of Mr. Weeks, remaining some three
years, until 1847, when he removed to
Wentworth. Isaac N. Blodgett also en-
tered professional life as Mr. Weeks'
partner, shortly before his retirement
from practice.

Mr. Weeks married, in 1833, Mary Eliz-
abeth Doe, only daughter and eldest
child of Joseph Doe, Esq., of Somers-
worth, now Rollinsford, and a sister of
Hon. Charles Doe, present Chief Justice
of the Supreme Court of New Hamp-
shire. Joseph Doe was a well-known
merchant of Salmon Falls, but a native
and former resident of Newmarket, who
married Mary Elizabeth Ricker, daugh-
ter of Capt. Ebenezer Ricker of Somers-
worth, from whose family also came the
wife of John P. Hale. By this union he
had five children, three sons and two
daughters, The eldest being Joseph Doe
Weeks, the subject of this sketch, the
second William B. Weeks, Esq., a lawyer
of Lebanon, and the third Marshall H.
Weeks, now residing at Fairbury, Neb.,
where he is extensively engaged in ag-
riculture and the lnmber trade. The
daughters, Mary Elizabeth and Susan H.
Weeks, the youngest of the children, ac-

complished young ladies, still remain at
home in Canaan, though usually spend-
ing the winter abroad, either at the South
or West.

Joseph Doe Weeks was born October
23, 1837, being now in the forty-first year
of his age. In early life he attended the
district school and Canaan Academy.
Subsequently he spent some time at the
Academies at Meriden and South Ber-
wick, Me., but returned home and com-
pleted his preparation for college at Ca-
naan Academy, the principal at that time
being Burrill Porter, Jr., of Langdon,
an accomplished teacher, whose life has
since been devoted to that occupation,
and who is now principal of the High
School at North Attleboro, Mass. Mr.
Porter, by the way, graduated at Dart-
mouth in the class of 1856, Gov. B. F.
Prescott, and Caleb Blodgett, before-
mentioned, being members of the same
class. Mr. Blodgett, who was a Canaan
boy, was a brilliant scholar and the lead-
er of his class. In this connection it may
properly be remarked that Canaan Acad-
emy, which was incorporated in 1839,
was, for many years a popular institution
of learning, with a large attendance of
students from that and neighboring
towns, and from abroad. Ex-Chief Jus-
tice Sargent was one of the early prin-
cipals of this institution. Subsequently
Hon. Levi W. Barton of Newport, then
pursuing the study of law in the office
of Judge Kittredge, became its princi-
pal. Mr. Barton was recently heard to
remark, in speaking of this school, that
while he was principal there were seven
promising young men in attendance who
afterward became members of the legal
profession. These were Caleb and I. N.
Blodgett, and William M. Chase, before
mentioned, Joseph D. Weeks, the sub-
ject of this sketch, and his brother, Wil-
liam B., Delavan Kittredge, a son of
Judge Kittredge, now a lawyer in New
York city, and W. A. Flanders, now of
Wentworth. In these days there were
from 150 to 200 students in attendance at
the Academy. Latterly the school has
declined in numbers and prestige, and
there are now but two terms a year —
&pring and autumn — with an average at-

HON. JOSEPH D. WEEKS.

tendance of about fifty scholars. Her-
bert F. Norris of Epping, Democratic
candidate for Speaker of the House of
Representatives at the late session of the
Legislature, was principal of this Acad-
emy in 1873 and 1874.

Mr. Weeks entered Dartmouth College
in 1857, graduating in 1861, his brother
being a member of the same class, which
also numbered among its members Wil-
liam J. Tucker, now an eminent Ortho-
dox clergyman of New York city, for-
merly of Manchester, who was recently
elected one of the Trustees of the Col-
lege, George A. Marden and Edward T.
Rowell, now joint editors and proprie-
tors of the Lowell Courier, Henry M.
Putney of the Manchester Mirror, and
George A. Bruce, now Mayor of Somer-
ville, Mass. Mr. Weeks was a diligent
and faithful student, taking good rank in
his class. Like a large share of the
young men who have been students at
Dartmouth, he passed his winters while
n college in the occupation of teaching.

The first winter, that of 1857-8, he
taught the school in his own district, at
Canaan k, Street," the next at East Leb-
anon, the third at Wellfleet, Mass., and
the fourth in the " Littleworth" District,
so called, in the city of Dover.

Immediately after graduating from col-
lege, in the summer of 1861, he commenc-
ed the study of law in the office of Samuel
M. Wheeler and Joshua G. Hall, then
partners in practice, in Dover, where he
remained about two years. He then
passed a year in attendance at the Har-
vard Law School in Cambridge, and
completed his study preparatory to ad-
mission to the bar, in his father's office
with Mr. Blodgett. He was admitted to
Grafton County bar, at Haverhill, at the
September Term in 1864. He soon after
went west and located for a year at
Janesville, Wis., but not fancying the
western country as a place of residence,
he returned home in the spring of 1866
and opened an office at East Canaan,
where he engaged in the practice of his

HON. JOSEPH D. WEEKS.

profession, having also an office at the
" Street," where he remained a portion
of the time, and making his home with
his parents. His office and library at
East Canaan were burned in the disas-
trous conflagration in that place, in 1872,
since which time he has kept an office
only at the " Street."

Mr. Weeks is an active and earnest
Democrat, and has for several years been
accorded the leadership of his party in
the town. He was elected a member of
the Legislature from Canaan in 1869 and
again in 1870, serving the first year as a
member of the Committee on Agricul-
tural College, and the next on the Rail-
road Committee. The first year Mr.
Weeks' Committee was an important one,
as it was at that time that the friends of
Dartmouth College made their strenuous
and (as it resulted) successful effort to
secure the location of the Agricultural
College at Hanover, and several Dart-
mouth graduates, including Mr. Weeks,
were made members of the Committee,
unquestionably with a view to the pro-
motion of that object, and for which they
labored with due zeal. The Railroad
Committee, of which lie was a member
during his second year's service, was
busied with the consideration of impor-
tant questions arising from the exciting
controversy between the Concord and
Northern Railroads. During his service
in the House he established a reputation
as an intelligent and industrious legisla-
tor, making no pretentions to display,
but devoting himself faithfully to the
promotion of the interests of his constit-
uents and the State at large, as regarded
from the stand-point of his own judg-
ment.

In 1875 Mr. Weeks received the Dem-
ocratic nomination for Senator in his Dis-
trict, then one of the so-called " close"
districts of the State, and was elected.
He served as a member of the Judiciary
and Railroad Committees in that body,
being chairman of the former. In 1876
he was again a candidate, but was de-
feated by James W. Johnson of Enfield,
the Republican nominee, a man of great
resources and tireless energy, who suc-
ceeded in carrying the district by a small

majority. This year the Republicans
again secured full control of the Legis-
lature, and made such changes in the
Senatorial Districts as to render a con-
test well nigh hopeless on the part of
any Democratic candidate in Number
Eleven, where Messrs. Johnson and
Weeks were again the candidates of their
respective parties the following year, and
the former was re-elected, as a matter of
course. In the last canvass, however,
Mr. Johnson not being a candidate, the
Democracy again insisted upon the re-
nomination of Mr. Weeks, wno after a
vigorous campaign was elected over C.
O. Barney, Esq., of the same town, the
Republican nominee. At the opening of
the late session of the Legislature he
received the compliment of the Demo-
cratic nomination for President of the
Senate, and served, during the session,
upon the committees on the Judiciary and
Education. In the Senate, as in the
House, Mr. Weeks rendered efficient ser-
vice as a practical legislator, and his
judgment was seldom questioned on mat-
ters involving general public interests.

Mr. Weeks is unmarried, and his moth-
er, sisters and himself have their home
together. The large farm and extensive
outlands of which his father died pos-
sessed, are still held, but in 1874 the fam-
ily residence was changed to the Dow-
ning place, so called, a fine location on
the " Street," which Mr. Weeks had pur-
chased the previous year, and re-fitted
and repaired in a thorough manner,
building a first class stable, where he
keeps about a half a dozen of the finest
horses to be found in Grafton county.
The love for good horses is, in fact, al-
most a passion with Mr. Weeks, and who-
ever of Iiis friends and acquaintances is
permitted to enjoy the hospitalities of
his home is sure to be favored with a de-
lightful drive behind some of his favor-
ites, through that romantic region.

Canaan 4t Street," as the old village of
Canaan has always been called, is one of
the most charming localities, in summer,
to be found in New Hampshire. The vil-
lage is built upon the two sides of a sin-
gle, broad street, extending a mile, north
and south, in a straight line. The street

FINITIO.

is lined on either side with shade trees,
the dwellings are neat and attractive,
and the location, upon an elevated table-
land, commands a fine view of the sur-
rounding country, restricted only by the
mountain ranges in the distance. Before
the advent of the railway this was an im-
portant business point, being one of the
old stage centres, but the passage of the
railroad through the lower part of the
town, and the building up of a village at
the "Depot," or East Canaan, has car-
ried the current of business in that di-
rection. This renders the Street a quiet
and pleasant resort for summer visitors,
and of late, many people from the cities
have been attracted thither, and taken
up their abode during the summer
months. The spacious mansion upon the
Weeks farm, among other fine old resi-
dences in the place, is now occupied as
a summer boarding house.

The care of the large estate left by his
father in various investments, the over-
sight of his extensive farming opera-
tions, the attention to such legal busi-
ness as naturally comes to his hands,
and other business cares, including the

management of a lumber mill, above
Factory Village, so-called, which recent-
ly came into his possession, and which is
adjacent to a large tract of heavy pine
and spruce timber, of which he is the
principal owner, together with the inter-
est which he takes in general public af-
fairs, educational, political and other-
wise, keeps Mr. Weeks fully and actively
employed, so that, although inheriting
ample means, he has neither the oppor-
tunity nor disposition to follow a life of
ease and leisure, which many in his situ-
ation would seek.

Mr. Weeks is an active member of the
Mascoma Valley Agricultural Society,
has been Superintending School Commit-
tee of the town, and in all movements in-
volving the material, educational, and
social welfare and progress of the com-
munity he always occupies a leading po-
sition. He was also one of the delegates
from his town in the Constitutional Con-
vention of 1876. He is a member of no
religious denomination, but attends upon
the services and contributes liberally to
the support of the Methodist church in
his village.

FINITIO.

Fast the minutes pass away,
Fades the day, and night is falling
O'er the earth. Beyond recalling,
Days like life will have their birth,
Life like days will pass away.
Slowly sinking from my sight
Pass dear faces, well-known places ;
Death, you meet me, but I greet thee —
See ! where yonder dawns the light,
The morn has come to life's dark night.

— WillE. Walker.

LOVE WINS LOVE.

BY HELEN M. RUSSELL.

" Good-bye, Josephine. You will not
forget our pleasant companionship of the
past few weeks, will you, little friend?"

The summer sun was just going out of
sight behind the tall hills which rose far
above the little red farmhouse covered
with climbing roses and clematis, and its
last rays lighted the tops of the tall trees
in the distance, while the entire valley
rested in the shade of the approaching
evening. Afar off the call of the cow
boy sounded, ringing out upon the still-
ness with a monotony that grated harsh-
ly upon the ear of the stylish young man
who leaned so lazily against the fence
that enclosed Farmer Granger's neat lit-
tle home. His black eyes were fixed
searchingly upon the sweet face of a
young girl who stood just inside the gate-
way, one slender hand resting upon the
gate, which stood open. At his words
there had been an eager, upward glance
of the brown eyes, which dropped be-
neath the piercing look of her compan-
ion. Slowly the color faded out of the
perfect face, and a slight shiver passed
over her slender form, but only for a mo-
ment—then she raised her head proudly
and half defiantly as she replied ;

" Indeed, Mr. Courtney, I cannot
promise. Of course I shall not entirely
forget, but time, you know, changes ev-
erything so completely that we cannot
be sure of anything. In one month you
will have forgotten that there is such a
place as Glenville or Glen Cottage and
its inmates. Is it not so?"
11 Forget you, Josie? Never!" was
- the answer, a ring of falseness in the low
tone as he replied.

" I prefer to be called Josephine, Mr.
Courtney, and I do not wish you to make
any rash promises." a laugh coming from
the sweet lips as easily as if the little
heart beating so rapidly was not filled
with the keenest pain.

" How can you be so cruel to me, Jo-
sephine? Have I indeed been mistaken
in thinking that you have enjoyed our
companionship, even as I have? Oh,
Josephine, you do not realize how your
sweet face will haunt me as I go out
from your presence into the world
again."

There was a little truth in these words,
and for the moment he really regretted
the pastime which had been such cruel
sport, and which had resulted in his win-
ning the love of this sweet country lass,
Josephine Granger. He knew she loved
him, despite the coldness and light-heart-
edness she had assumed.

" Walk with me as far as the elm, will
you not?" said he, turning slowly away
at length.

" Certainly, Mr. Courtney, if you wish ;
although I might as well bid you good-
bye here, I suppose," said Josephine, as
she passed out through the gateway,
bringing it shut behind her.

The road wound along beside a small
river on the one side, while on the other
rose the tall hills previously mentioned.
There was a sad murmur in the music of
the river this evening which Josephine
had never noticed before. The twitter
of the birds annoyed her; and the low-
ing of the cows, homeward bound,
sounded, for the first time in her life, dis-
agreeable. The sun had gone out of
sight, leaving shadows in its place, just
as the sunshine of her life was departing.
She had been so happy here in her coun-
try home, content to perform her tasks
without a wish for what lay beyond her
humble sphere. Six weeks ago, Lee
Courtney had presented himself at Glen
Cottage and desired board for two weeks.
The two had multiplied themselves into
six, however, and now a summons from
his father, in the form of a telegram, had
caused him to pack up his effects with-

LOVE WINS LOVE.

out loss of time and take his departure.
His stay at the little red farm-house, or
" Glen Cottage," as he himself had chris-
tened it, had been most pleasant, and as
he walked slowly along he thought of
the girl who had met him so frankly
upon his arrival at her home, filled his
room with flowers, prepared his favorite
dishes and picked the ripest berries for
him, and involuntarily his eyes rested
upon her now walking by his side. She
seemed a different being. The former
was a happy girl, without a trace of care
in the lovely brown eyes; the latter
seemed a woman. The erect, even
haughty, figure walked steadily by his
side, but there was a look of sorrow in
the eyes which could not be concealed.
The hand which carried a bunch of sweet
clover trembled slightly as he took it
gently in his own. They reached the
" elm tree " at length, and, pausing, Jo-
sephine said with a smile :

" Well, Mr. Courtney, I wish you a
pleasant journey home, and a pleasant
one through life."

Her coolness vexed him, and he made
a sudden resolve to compel her to own
that she loved him. Where would be the
harm, he reasoned. If harm there was,
it had already been done, so turning
quickly toward her, he clasped both her
little toil-stained hands in his own, say-
ing softly :

" Josephine, my darling, how can my
life journey be pleasant unless you share
it with me? My love, tell me that I may
return to you, may win you and take
you away from this country life to a
home you are so much better adapted to
adorn. My sweet girl, tell me that you
love me."

Withdrawing her hands from his grasp,
. ne covered her blushing face with them,
while the bunch of sweet clover feel un-
. ceded to the ground, but she made no
icply.

*' Tell me, Josephine, do you care for
ne?" said he, drawing her closely to his
tde and gently forcing the hands from
s_i»r face. At length she raised her head

uidly, the color coming and going in
v.ives of crimson and white, as she mur-
mured softly :

" Yes, Lee, I do love you with all my
heart; but I — I — thought you were only
amusing yourself at my expense."

There beneath the old elm they stood
talking until the coming shadows of
night warned Josephine that she must
return home. The parting was bitter to
the girl, and her evident sorrow touched
even Lee Courtney's callous heart and
caused him to exclaim to himself, when
at length he found himself alone upon
the road leading to the village of Glen-
ville :

" I am a precious rascal, and no mis-
take ! What possessed me to make the
girl love me? Well, time will cure her
of her folly, and I will stop this business.
By George, I pitied her, but it cannot be
helped now; so good-bye, my pretty
wild flower, and now for home and Nora
Weston's bright eyes and golden charms.
I wish Josephine had Nora's wealth. I
do believe I should like the former best
if it were at all prudent to do so. I will
write her a dozen letters or so and grad-
ually let the affair die away. Confound
it ! I do believe I have got a conscience
after all ! "

Back again to the quiet home so lonely
now, so desolate. One by one the stars
came forth, and anon the moon shone
down upon the quiet spot, lighting it
with a tender radiance, and falling upon
the sad face of the girl who leaned from
her chamber window, her eyes misty
with unshed tears, wandering toward the
village whose tall church spires she
could just distinguish in the distance —
thinking of him who had made so great
a change in her quiet life. She could
never be the same again, free from care,
content to perform her homely tasks,
caring for naught but her home, her par-
ents and the few humble friends of her
girlhood. She must study — must fit her-
self for the home to which he had prom-
ised to take her. She would go away
where she could learn all the graces he
so much admired. Her parents would
miss her, but they would learn to do
without her, and when she had obtained
the knowledge she so much desired, and
she was Lee Courtney's wife, they should
spend the declining years of life with

her. At length she gave one last, lin-
gering look to the village where he was
stopping for the night, and then she
sought her couch, but not lo sleep. She
heard the whistle of the departing train
which bore him away in the early dawn,
and she could but wonder at the dreary
heart-ache, the utter desolation that
came to her at the sound.

A lovely day — the sun shone, the birds
warbled, the air was filled with the
sweetest odors. Josephine Granger was
seated in the shade of a tall maple which
stood near her home. She held an open
letter in her hand, and a sweet, glad
light shone from her lovely eyes. Lee
really loved her — he had not forgotten
her as she had feared when day after day
passed and there had eome no word from
him. The two weeks that had elapsed
since he had left her seemed like so many
months to the young girl, but now she
held his first letter, brief and not just
what she had fondly hoped it would be,
but nevertheless a letter, and now the
world had once more put on a look of
beauty. There was not the faintest
thought in her heart but that he loved
her. She must tell her parents now, and
they would let her go away where she
would receive an education which would
fit her to be Lee Courtney's wife. A step
near by arrested her attention, and
glancing quickly upward she saw a
young man approaching her, tall and
sun-burned, but nevertheless handsome
and manly. A shade of annoyance
passed over her face at being thus dis-
turbed in her day-dreams, but it gave
way to a look ot pleasure as she made
room for him at her side, at the same
time saying:

" Well, Frank, you are back again. I
am glad to see you. How do you like
your new home?"

"Oh, little girl, it is just a jolly place.
I really think there's not a handsomer
farm this side the Connecticut than mine.
Mother's a little lonesome, the folks be-
ing all strangers to her, you know," he
replied, a little awed by the change he
felt rather than saw in the girl by his
side.
" Of course that was to have been ex-

LOVE WINS LOVE.

pected, Frank. There are not many old
ladies who would have so willingly given
up the home which had been theirs for
so many years, as did your mother!
She is well, is she not?"

'' Yes, oh. yes, she is well — but, I say,
little girl, what's come over you? You
don't seem at all like the Josephine I
left at Glenville depot the day we went
away. Are you sick?"

A flush dyed her face, but she laugh-
ingly replied :

" No, Frank, I am not sick — on the
contrary, I am perfectly well and
happy," a tender light coming into her
eyes as she raised them to her compan-
ion's face. Why not tell him of the love
which had come into her life? He had
been her friend always, her companion
to and from school, the one true and con-
stant friend that takes the place of a
brother. He had been the one .to show
her where the nicest berries grew, to
gather pond- lilies for her— in short, she
had loved him as if he had been her
brother, and when he had sold the old
rocky farm on the hill-side and bought a
larger one upon the banks of the Connec-
ticut, distant some twenty miles from her
home, she had shed bitter tears. He had
been absent but three months and it was
pleasant to have him back again, and —
yes, she would tell him ; but first she
would acquaint him with her intention of
leaving home, so. looking up into his
kindly lace, she said suddenly :

" I am going away, Frank. I intend
to go to some large school for young
ladies, and I wish to be something more
than an uneducated farmer's daughter."
Then, not noting the pained look that
came into his face, she said softly, hiding
her blushing face from his eager gaze :
"I — 1 wish to tell j r ou something, brother
Frank, but I don't know how to tell it."

There was no reply for a moment,
then, looking up, Josephine saw that the
browned face had grown quite pale.

" You don't need to tell me, little
girl," — his pet name for her always. '■ I
heard something at the village, but I
would not, could not believe it. I see
now that it is true. Oh, Josephine, did
you not guess that I loved you, that I

LOVE WINS LOVE.

was coming back for you? That city-
chap could not care for you a tenth part
what I do and always have."

" I am so sorry, Frank. I never
thought you cared for me in this way,''
murmured Josephine, bursting into tears
of real sorrow.

'* No, little girl ; I see how ioolish I
was. I might have won your love had I
told you of my own before Lee Courtney
turned your head with his soft words
that meant nothing to him, but which
won your heart at once. Oh, Josephine !
I can't realize it yet, you know — I can't
believe I have lost you. I have loved
you all my life, little girl."

There was an earnestness in the words
and tone of Frank Clyde's voice that the
girl had missed in the smooth, honied
words of Lee Courtney, and it struck her
more forcibly than ever before as she
contrasted the two — the one rough and
uncultured, but so good and noble, the
other rich, handsome, well educated, but
yet lacking something which she could
not define, but it gave her the heart-ache
nevertheless.

" Oh, Frank, don't talk to me any
more about it, for it can never be, you
know. You must always be my brother
just the same, and we will try and forget
you ever cared for me in any other
way."

'"Forget you, little girl? I shall as
soon forget the sun that shines as to for-
get the love I have given to you. I shall
go away, but 1 shall always love you
just the same. Good-bye, little girl."
His voice grew husky as he spoke, and
rising from his seat by her side, he threw
both arms around her, held her one mo-
ment to his heart, pressed a long, linger-
ing kiss upon the flushed forehead, and
turning quickly he hurried away, not
pausing or looking back. It was years
ere they met again.

It was a lovely day in autumn when at
last Josephine stood in the door-way of
her humble home, ready equipped for
her departure. Her mother stood near
by, wiping the fast falling tears upon the
corner of her calico apron, her heart
filled with grief at this parting. There
had been expostulations and entreaties

when her daughter had made known her
determination to leave home, but they
had been of no avail, so at last the wor-
thy farmer and his wife had set about
preparing tor their daughter's departure
with sorrow-filled hearts. The day long
dreaded had arrived, and now the hour
of parting had come. Her father carried
her to the village, where she was to take
the afternoon train for her destination, a
large flourishing town in New York.
Old ties were broken now, and a new
life, new associations, were to be formed.
Her heart beat high with hope, notwith-
standing the real grief she felt at leaving
home. I would gladly follow her
through the weeks that came, but space
will not permit. I will simply say that
her school life proved all that she had
anticipated. She learned easily and rap-
idly. Letters came from home every
week, and from Lee Courtney occasional-
ly. She stiflled any fear she may have
felt at his coolness, and time passed
quickly away.

It was in the early spring-time when
she knew at last that the one hope
of her life had crumbled, as it were, into
ashes. Several weeks had elapsed since
she had received a letter from Lee, and
her companions had noticed that the
sweet face had grown paler and her hap-
py laughter no longer rang out in unison
with their own. One evening the mail-
bag had been carried into the long din-
ing-hall to be opened and the contents
to be distributed among the many pupils
assembled there. There was no sign
from Josephine, when at length it was
emptied and carried away, that she had
expected a letter, yet she had felt so sure
that she should hear from him that night.
Her head ached and throbbed terribly,
so, arising, she asked to be excused and
left the room and sought her own, where
she knelt down by the window — an old
habit which clung to her in her new
life — and gazed wearily out upon the
grounds surrounding the seminary. A
long time she knelt there, but at length-
her room mate, Ellen Weston, entered
the room with a song upon her lips. She
carried a paper in her hand.

" I declare, Josephine, what has come

LOVE WINS LOVE.

over you ? You are sober as an owl,"
she said.

" You have received good news. I con-
elude, Ellen," said her friend, wearily-
arising from the window.

"Yes, and you have none. That ac-
counts for your long face. You recol-
lect hearing me speak of my cousin
Nora, do you not?"

" Yes, and you promised to show me
her picture," replied Josephine, with an
attempt at animation.

" Yes, I will do so, and also that of
her husband. They were married last
Wednesday, and this paper contains an
account of the wedding. After you have
looked at their pictured faces I will read
you what this paper states in regard to
them," returned Ellen.

A moment later she had procured two
photographs, and after a hasty glance at
them, threw them on the tabJe beside
which her friend was seated. Josephine
took up the pictures, and her gaze fell
upon the face of Lee Courtney.

"How came you by Lee Courtney's
picture?" she asked, turning her white
face toward her friend.

" Why, he is cousin Nora's husband,
Josephine; but where did you ever see
him, in the name of wonder?" replied
Ellen in sin-prise.

She did not faint ; even the bliss of un-
consciousness was denied her. After-
ward she remembered that she had given
some common-place answer, and then,
making some remark about her aching
head, had sought her bed, and through
the long hours of the night had fought
with the pain at her crushed heart. She
saw it all now— saw how blind she had
been from the first. Two weeks later
there came a letter to the anxious par-
ents at the farm-house, saying :

" Father — mother — you will have
learned ere you receive this how basely
I have been deceived. I cannot talk of it
yet — the pain is too severe ; neither can
I remain here at school or return to you.
So by the time you receive this I shall
be far away. A lady— a friend of my
room mate — wishes a companion on a
journey to Europe, and has kindly con-
sented to allow me to fill that place. It

I live I shall return to you in time.
Good-bye, dear kind parents.
Your unhappy daughter,

Josephine."

Through all the years that followed
there came no sign that she yet lived,
until ten long years had passed — then to
the care-worn parents there came at last
a letter, telling them that she was yet
alive and would be with them almost as
soon as her letter reached them. Jose-
phine Granger left home a young girl
full of hope. She returned a woman,
beautiful and wealthy, and no more to be
compared with what she had once been
than is the choicest garden flower to
the simple field daisy. The lady in
whose company she had travelled had
learned to love the sad, pale-faced girl,
and when at last death overtook her, Jo-
sephine learned to her surprise that her
kind friend had bequeathed a large por-
tion of her vast wealth to herself.

Home again, at last! There was infi-
nite rest in the knowledge, and she
would remain there until she could de-
cide what to do in the future.

" Mother," said she, the day after her
arrival home, "I have never heard one
word concerning Frank Clyde since I left
home. Is he yet living? "

" Yes, my child ; and if you will go to
church with us to-morrow you will see
him," said her mother.

On the morrow she once more entered
the little white church at Glenville, but
the faces raised to her own were nearly
all strange to her. Involuntarily her
eyes sought the pew where, years ago,
she had been wont to see the kindly face
of her friend, Frank Clyde. Mrs. Clyde
sat there alone.

" Frank is late, doubtless," she
thought, settling herself back into her
seat, and raising her eyes to the old-
fashioned pulpit. The minister arose,
and in a clear, impassioned voice began
the services of the day. Surely some-
where she had heard that voice. Could
it be her old friend, Frank Clyde? An
hour later she stood before him and felt
the warm clasp of his hand and heard
him welcome her home in the same old
voice, cultivated now, to be sure, but

POLITICS IN HOPKINTON.

still the same. Her true friend always,
she realized at that moment what she
had thrown away — the pure gold for the
glistening tinsel. Afterward she learned
how his disappointed hopes had caused
him to sell the farm he had bought
thinking she would share his home with
him, and go away; and how his mother
came to live with the lonely parents she
had deserted, during his absence from
his native place. Two years before Jose-
phine's return ne had addressed the peo-

ple of Glenville from the little pulpit in
the little old church.

One year after her return the wedding
bells rang out a joyful peal as arm in
arm Frank Clyde and Josephine Gran-
ger walked into that same little church
to be made one for the remainder of'their
lives ; and when later on that same day
she entered her own home, there stole
into her heart once more perfect rest and
peace.

POLITICS IN HOPKINTON.

BY C. C. LORD.

Internal politics have but a little
chance for agitation when a new country
is harassed by external foes. The first
inhabitants of this town, besides being
loyal subjects to the colonial authority of
the Crown of England, were too actively
engaged in the pursuit of a material ex-
istence to indulge to any great extent in
local political discussion.

The Bow controversy, as it is some-
times called, was early a cause of litiga-
tion to the inhabitants of this town. In
1727, Jonathan Wiggin and others obtain-
ed a grant of the township of Bow from
the authorities of New Hampshire. This
act ultimately led to contention with
other parties holding grants of town-
ships from the authorities of Massachu-
setts. Concord, Pembroke and Hopkin-
ton were all involved in this controversy.
Bow was at length obliged to yield over
two-thirds of its territory * to these three
towns, the final boundary lines being set-
tled at different times from 1759 to 1765.
In this controversy the town of Hopkin-
ton was represented by Dea. Henry Mel-
len, Adj. Thomas Mellen, and Timothy
Clement.

During the pending of the Bow claim,
the town of Hopkinton became involved
in the Mason controversy. John Tufton

*Bow claimed a notch of a few square miles
in the south-east corner of Hopkinton.

Mason, presumed heir of John Mason, in
consequence of an alleged defect in the
sale of lands to Samuel Allen, in 1691,
conveyed his interests in New Hamp-
shire to twelve leading men of Ports-
mouth, for fifteen hundred pounds. This
was in 1746. The new proprietors, how-
ever, were liberal, granting new town-
ships for the simple conditions of a guar-
anty for improvements by the occupants
and the reservation of fifteen rights for
themselves. Under the date of Novem-
ber 30, 1750, we find a record of condi-
tions obtaining in the case of the grant
of this town. Henry Mellen, yeoman;
Thomas Walker, cooper; Thomas Mel-
len, cordwainer, and their associates,
were grantees. One-fifth of the land was
to be set apart on the west, to be exempt
from all taxes till improved. One share
was to be set apart for a minister, one
share for a school, and a reservation for
a mill privilege. There were to be thirty
families in three years and sixty in seven
years. There was to be a meeting-house
in three years, and a minister in seven
years. The suitable white pine was to
be reserved for His Majesty. In case of
an Indian war the times expressed in this
agreement were to be extended. In case
Bow took any territory the equivalent
was to be made up from ungranted lands.
The absence of local records during nu-

POLITICS IN HOPKINTON.

merous years about the time of this
transaction prevents a confident state-
ment in regard to all the conditions that
may have been implied in the Mason
grant of this township. The absence of
any reference to the " fifteen rights" of
the Mason proprietors, leads to the con-
jecture it may be that those rights were
bought by the grantees.

The distribution of the rights of the
proprietors of the township under the
new grant was as follows : Thomas Mel-
len, 4;* Dea. Henry Mellen, 3; John
Jones, Esq., John Chad wick, Jonathan
Straw, Sampson Colby, Peter How, Jr.,
and Enoch Eastman, 2 each; Daniel and
John Annis,2; Joseph Haven, Esq., Rev.
Samuel Haven, John Haven, Thomas Bix-
bee, Peter How. Joseph Haven, Timothy
Townsend, Elder Joseph Haven, Simp-
son Jones, Esq., Isaac Pratt, Jedediah
Haven, Mark Whitney, Nathaniel Gibbs,
Isaac Gibbs, John Jones, Jr., Benjamin
Goddard, Eleazer Howard, Daniel Mel-
len, James Lock, David Woodwell, Na-
thaniel Chandler (heirs of), James Chad-
wick (heirs of), Samuel Osgood, Aaron
Kimball, Thomas Eastman, Timothy
Clement, John Rust (heirs of), William
Peters, Ebenezer Eastman, Jacob Straw,
Samuel Putney, Joseph Putney, Thomas
Merrill, Joseph Eastman, Jacob Potter,
Matthew Stanley, Abraham Colby, Isaac
Chandler, Jr., Abuer Kimball (heirs of),
John Burbank, Caleb Burbank, Samuel
Eastman, Stephen Hoyt, Isaac Whitney,
Thomas Walker, Isaac Chandler, and Jo-
seph Eastman, Jr., 1 each ; John and
James Nutt, 1 ; Enoch and Ezra Hoyt, 1.

Soon after the first occupation of the
territory by the proprietors, this town-
ship began to be called New Hopkinton,
though known at first as No. 5. The
present name of Hopkinton became the
legal appellation under the act of incor-
poration. Our readers will be interested
in our notice of

THE INCORPORATING CHARTER.

Anno Begni Begis Georgii Tertii. Magnce
Brittanicve, Francice, et Hibernian, etc.,
Quinto.
[S. S.] An Act to incorporate a Place

*Tlns is a doubtful figure in the original rec-
ord.

called New Hopkinton, not within a
Place heretofore incorporated, together
with that Part of the Township of Bow
which covers a Part of the said New
Hopkinton, into a Town, invested with
the Powers and Privileges of a Town.

WHEREAS the Inhabitants of New
Hopkinton (so called) together with the
Inhabitants of that part of the Township
of Bow which covers a part of said New
Hopkinton have petitioned the General
Assembly, representing the Difficulties
which they are under for want of the
Powers and Privileges of a Town, and
therefore prayed that they might be join-
ed, united and incorporated together into
a Town and be invested with the Powers
and Privileges which other Towns in the
Province enjoy,

THEREFORE

Be it enacted by the Gouvernour,
Council and Assembly, That that part of
the Township of Bow which covers a
Part of New Hopkinton be, and hereby
is, separated from the rest of the said
Township of Bow, and is joined to and
united with the said New Hopkinton, to
all Intents and Purposes : and that all
the Land contained within the Bounds
and Limits hereafter mentioned, and all
the Persons who do or shall inhabit the
same, their Polls and Estates, be and
hereby are incorporated together into a
Town, including all that part of the town-
ship of Bow which covers a part of New
Hopkinton, with the Polls and Estates;
and are hereby invested and enfranchised
with all the Powers and Privileges of
any other Town in the Province; and
shall be called Hopkinton.

A description of the boundaries of
Hopkinton, together with certain gener-
al laws and regulations, conclude the act
of incorporation, done in the House of
Representatives for the Province of New
Hampshire, on 10th of January, 1765,
and signed by H. Sherburne, Speaker;
recorded in the Council the next day as
passed, and signed by T. Atkinson, Sec-
retary; consented to by B. Wentworth,
Governor; and copies attested by the
Secretary of the Council, and Enoch
Eastman, Town Clerk.

The act of incorporation provided that

POLITICS IN HOPKINTON.

annual town meetings should be held on
the first Monday of March. Acting un-
der this provision the first board of se-
lectmen were chosen the same year.
They were Capt. Matthew Stanly, Jona-
than Straw and Serg. Isaac Chandler.
The incorporation of the town gave a new
impulse to internal affairs, and improve-
ments progressed rapidly.

The struggle for colonial independence
occasioned the entertainment of provis-
ions for the maintenance of independent
civil government. The people of this
town recognized this necessity of civil
government as well as others. At a town
meeting held on July 18. 1774. Capt.
Jonathan Straw was chosen delegate to
the convention held at Exeter on the 21st
of the same month to succeed the pre-
vious assembly dispersed by Governor
John Wentworth. This convention chose
Nathaniel Folsom and John Sullivan
delegates to the Provincial Congress at
Philadelphia. On the 9th of January,
1775, Joshua Bayley was chosen dele-
gate from Hopkinton to a second conven-
tion at Exeter, to appoint delegates to a
second Congress to be held on the 10th
of May. John Sullivan and John Lang-
don were appointed to the approaching
Congress. On the day that Joshua Bayley
was chosen delegate to Exeter the town
of Hopkinton voted " to accept what the
grand Congress has resolved." On the
11th of December, 1775, Capt. Stephen
Harriman was chosen representative to
Exeter for one year.

The success of the struggle for inde-
pendence secured to the inhabitants of
this town and all others the possession
of their lands in fee simple, and the con-
sciousness of an existence of free gov-
ernmental privileges. However.it opened
the door to an earnestness and intensity
of political controversy that many had not
expected to experience. The task of es-
tablishing a permanent civil government
awakened a discussion between the doc-
trines of the concentration and distribu-
tion of governmental agencies which have
plagued legislators throughout a long
historic past, and probably will continue
to plague them for a long time to come.
On the 13th of January, 1778, the town

voted to accept of the articles of confed-
eration, but on the 22d of the July fol-
lowing the people, as states the town
clerk, " Tryed a Vote for Receiving the
Plan of Government— none for, But 106
against it." On the 30th day of May,
1781, Joshua Bayley was chosen a com-
mittee to attend an assembly* at Concord
for the purpose of forming a plan of
State government; yet on the 21st of
January, and again on the 11th of No-
vember, of the following year, the town
voted not to accept the plan of govern-
ment as it then stood. On the 4th of
March of this year, Capt. (Jonathan)
Straw. Benjamin Wiggin and Isaac Bay-
ley were chosen a committee to petition
the General Court for a repeal of the
oath of fidelity. On the 23d of Decem-
ber it was voted to accept the plan of gov-
ernment " with the amendment made by
the committee, there being 100 votes."
The substance of this matter related to
the powers and privileges of the Govern
or of the State ; a compromise was effect-
ed by the recommendation of the con-
vention that the Governor be elected by
the people, which plan was adopted.

Under the new condition of affairs,
Meshech Weare, of Hampton Falls, was
elected Presidentf of the State of New
Hampshire. The vote of the town of
Hopkinton that year stood fifty-six for
Josiah Bartlett, of Kingston, and two
for Timothy Walker, of Concord, and
none for Weare. On the following year
John Langdon of Portsmouth received
eighty-nine votes and Timothy Walker
one.

The unanimous character of the votes
cast in Hopkinton for chief executive of
the State for many years subsequently to
the independence of the American colo-
nies attests the little progress that had
been made in national politics. When at
length the people became conscious of
the great struggle between Federalism
and Republicanism, the sympathies of
this town gravitated steadily toward the

*This assembly, or convention, held nine ses-
sions and was in existence two years.

tThe chief executive of the State was not
called governor vntil 1792, when a new consti-
tution came in force.

POLITICS IN HOPKINTON.

Republican side. The growing state of
the population, and the consequent in-
creasing multiple character of the inhab-
itants, soon prevented that degree of po-
litical unanimity at first prevailing. In
1812 the contest between Federalism and
Republicanism was at its height. The
progress of the existing war was bitterly
opposed by the Federalists ; the Repub-
licans were as intensely ardent in its sup-
port. In 1812 William Plummer, of Ep-
ping. a Republican, was elected govern-
or of New Hampshire. He had been a
prominent Federalist but had seen fit to
change his political position to the Re-
publican side. His opponent was John
Taylor Gilman, a life-long Federalist and
popular citizen and official. Yet Hop-
kinton, zealous of the principles and
measures of the Republican party, gave
192 votes to Plummer against 108 for
Gilman. In 1813, the town cast a much
larger vote than on the previous year.
The popular excitement occasioned by
the war impelled the increased attend-
ance at the polls. The candidates for the
office for governor of the State were the
same as the previous. The great person-
al popularity of the man gave Gilman
the election. Yet Hopkinton attested
her devotion to Republicanism by giving
Plummer 220 votes against 152 for the
successful candidate.

Among the changeable things in this
world are the names of political parties.
In the progress of popular events, the
body of voters representing the es-
sential principles of government held
by the Federalists, came to be known as
Whigs, and later as Republicans; the
upholders of the original Republican
doctrines came to be known as Demo-
crats. The later Republican party in
this town has absorbed the most of
the representatives of the once Free-
soil party (which at one time at-
tained to a respectable representation
here), as well as also the voters of the

American or "Know-nothing" party.
The former Republicans and later Demo-
crats held the advance on party votes in
this town till 1865. In 1846, when An-
thony Colby, of New London, a Whig,
was chosen governor of New Hampshire,
the vote of Hopkinton stood 245 for Jared
W. Williams of Lancaster ; 134 for Na-
thaniel S. Berry of Hebron; 78 for An-
thony Colby of New London, and two
scattering. Williams was a Democrat
and Berry a Free-soiler. In 1855 there
was a close contest in this town between
the Democrats, Americans, and the rem-
nants of the Whig and Free-soil parties.
The Democrats maintained a plurality
on the governor's ticket. The vote stood
248 for Nathaniel B. Baker of Concord;
219 for Ralph Metcalf of Newport.; 29
for James Bell of Meredith, and seven
for Asa Fowler of Concord. Baker was
a Democrat, Metcalf an American, Bell a
Whig and Fowler a Free-soiler.

The Democrats lost this town on the
State ticket for the first time in 1865 ; the
vote stood 240 for Walter Hani man of
Warner, Republican, against 229 for John
G. Sinclair of Bethlehem, Democrat.
The Democrats rallied again in 1872,
gaining a plurality. James A. Weston
of Manchester, Democrat, had 243 votes;
Ezekiel A. Straw of Manchester, Repub-
lican, 241 ; there were two votes for Lem-
uel P. Cooper of Croydon, Labor Reform
candidate. In 1875, the town went back
to the Republicans, giving Person C.
Cheney of Manchester, 256 votes, against
241 for Hiram R. Roberts of Rollinsford,
Democrat. The next year the Demo-
crats carried the State ticket, giving
Daniel Marcy of Portsmouth, 256 votes,
against 252 for Person C. Cheney, and
two scattering. In 1877 the Republicans
took the ascendency, giving Benjamin
F. Prescott of Epping, 261 votes, against
215 for Daniel Marcy. The Republicans
still maintain the balance of power.

TOEM. 47

POEM.

BY REV. SILV ANNUS HAY WARD.
[Delivered at the Quarter-Century Meeting of the Class of '53, Dartmouth College, June 26, 1878.]

Stay, Clotho, stay thy fervid wheel,

Let Lachesis cease twining ; —
The quarter skein upon her reel

Our threads of life combining.

Threads tinged by Life's " dissolving views"

In shades of countless number; —
Some decked with Joy's celestial dews,

Some smirched with sorrow's umber.

We come from out the dusty maze

Where weaponed warriors glisten,
Into each other's eyes to gaze,

Each other's accents listen.

Nor absent those whom duties hold

To-day from our collection,
Nor those whose dust 'neath grassy mold

Awaits the resurrection.

We feel the presence of our dead ;

There are no vacant places ;
Though Atropos has cut their thread

We see their vanished faces.

For bonds which classmates here assume

Nor Time nor Death can sever :
The shuttle flies in Friendship's loom

Forever and forever.

On Time's tempestuous, trackless sea
A momentary meeting,
:isn gliding to the far To Be,

k Hail and Farewell," our greeting.

avenly Pilot, do Thou guide
To that fair port of entry
Beyond this billowy, treacherous tide,
Guarded by angel sentry.

Who next of our departing band,

The crown immortal winning,
Shall pass within that vailed land?—

Clotho, resume thy spinning.

-•*

CONGRESSIONAL PAPERS. NO. II— THE SENATE.

BY G. H. JENNESS.

The Senate differs from the Honse in
numbers, in membership, and in the
character and methods ©f its legislation.
Comparatively small when measured
with the House, it is free from the turbu-
lence and disorder so frequent at the oth-
er end of the Capitol. In the House the
Speaker pounds the desk with his mallet
until he seems exhausted with his efforts
to preserve even the semblance of order.
In the Senate a slight tap of the Vice
President's gavel is sufficient to repress
any undue excitement among the honor-
able Senators. As a whole, good order
and parliamentary courtsey reign su-
preme in the Senate chamber. Sometimes
in an animated partisan debate an ill-
timed remark may evoke a personal rejoin-
der and lead to hot and hasty words ; but a
night's sleep, and a friendly reminder of
the "dignity" of an American Senator,
sets everything right again, after the
usual ••personal explanations."'

In all of its visible surroundings the
Senate resembles the House. The pre-
siding officers, the clerks, the Sergeant-
at-Arms, the official stenographers,
each occupy the same relative positions,
and perforin nearly similar duties. The
Chamber is simply the Hall of the House
made smaller. There is the same gor-
geous gilding, the heavy cornices, the
beautifully-designed, richly-painted glass
panels overhead, the mellow light from
above, the paintings, the frescoes, the
uncomfortable desks, the lounges, the
ante-rooms, the galleries, the diplomatic
gallery conspicuously empty amid sur-
rounding crowds, the newspaper report-
ers' perch in the rear above the Vice
President's chair, these, and other points
of similarity are held in common by the
two rooms of our American Parliament.
Of the manner of election and duration
of the term of service of Senators it is

not my purpose to speak, that being a
subject upon which all intelligent citi-
zens are presumably well informed. It
is to the differences in the character and
methods of legislation of the Senate, to
which attention is particularly invited,
and to which the bulk of this article will
be devoted. Briefly, then, the action of
the Senate is revisory in matters of busi-
ness, and practically paramount in mat-
ters of law. The House originates all
appropriation bills. The Senate revises,
suggests and amends. The Senate takes
care of international affairs, negotiates
foreign treaties, gives or withholds its
approval to the men selected by the
President to represent our government
abroad, and exercises a fatherly and
supervisory care over the Revised Stat-
utes. Either House may be obstinate,
and can, if it chooses, put the other to
much inconvenience and delay; but the
constitution and common consent pre-
scribes the course that, under ordinary
circumstances, each will pursue. Under
our system of government, which has
been aptly termed a system of "checks
and balances," neither the President, the
Senate, or the House can change a law or
appropriate a dollar, without the other's
consent. AVith these existing conditions,
certain legislative amenities must be re-
garded — else all the machinery of gov-
ernment would stop. No party dare
take the responsibility of allowing the
eleven regular appropriation bills to fail
in either or both houses of Congress.
The result would be, simply, that at the
close of the fiscal year there would be no
money that could be legally used to run
any branch of the government. As long
as our country comprises its present vast
extent of territory, its commercial inter-
course, and its multiplied and varied in-
dustries, it must have the services of at

CONGRESSIONAL PAPERS. NO. II— THE SENATE.

least S0,000 to 100,000 persons to perform
the work required to administer the gov-
ernment with any reasonable degree of
efficiency. It must have, also, under the
most favorable circumstances, not less
than $150,000,000 annually, for the same
purpose. To indicate how this vast sum
shall be wisely and economically ex-
pended is the principal problem that con-
fronts the legislator, in either branch of
Congress, and one to which he must give
earnest and careful attention if he would
avoid political shipwreck. A nation of
money-worshippers may forget a vote
given upon matters purely political, one
unworthily bestowed, or one against
which many objections can be urged;
but a false step in the vicinity of the
"almighty dollar," may often prove, fatal.
Hence the sensitiveness of the House in
regard to everything involving an ex-
penditure of money. The House know-
ing that a hundred dollars is needed for
a certain purpose, appropriates ninety-
nine, and sends the bill to the Senate.
The Senate adds the needed dollar. The
House disagrees. The Senate "insists.''
They have a "conference." The House
"recedes from its disagreement" — as it
intended to all the while. Then the
House calls the country to witness that
it is finally compelled to submit to add-
ing the extra dollar, and denounces the
Senate for its extravagance.

This is, in brief, a history of all legis-
lative "conferences" between the two
houses, upon money appropriations. It
is safe to say that for the last twenty
years the Senate has carried, in "confer-
ence," three of every four amendments
previously "insisted" upon in open Sen-
ate. As a whole, the Senate is composed
of much abler men than the lower branch
of Congress. Generally, they are men
who have had many years experience in
the House. They must, of necessity,
know more concerning the needs of the
government. They are elected for an
official term of six years. They are less
under the necessity of trimming and
hedging to secure a re-election. They
can afford to wait longer than a member
of the House for the "vindication" of
their motives which it is said time will

surely bring. They can better afford to
consider every public measure upon its
merits, rather than its immediate conse-
quences upon their personal ambitions.
These, and many other reasons equally
potent, make it possible for a Senator to
exercise a more careful judgment, and a
more intelligent comprehension of meas-
ures that must receive his consideration.
The ever changing character of the
House, its great number of new mem-
bers, and the time required to become at
all familiar with the complicated machin-
ery of legislation, consumes its time, and
limits its usefulness as a legislative body.
The Senate with one fourth the mem-
bership, and three times the term of ser-
vice, can give to all important matters
much more attention than it is possible
for them to receive in the House. Hence
of the thousands of bills rushed through
the latter, generally less than half secure
the approval of the Senate. The balance
remain in the Senatorial pigeon-holes,
wherein slumber many thousands of
schemes originally designed to extract
"very hard cash" from the coffers of our
beloved Uncle Samuel.

In the matter of giving or withholding
its approval of measures referred to it,
the Senate has to bear more than its just
share of the burden, for the House will
frequently pass bills that it knows the
Senate will kill — and which the House
really desires it should kill. It only
wishes to shift the responsibility of the
execution to the other end of the Capitol.
The lobbyist says "I can get your little
bill through the House well enough, but,
gentlemen, there's the Senate." This is
particularly true of bills involving small
money appropriations, and bills of a pri-
vate nature. The big railroad schemes
and steamship subsidies are as vigorous-
ly advocated and opposed, and as thor-
oughly discussed in the House as in the
Senate ; but of the smaller matters, many
a member votes against his better judg-
ment for a bill to please some influential
constituent, knowing all the time that it
can never pass the Senate. In the House,
very important measures are sometimes
passed under a suspension of the Rules —
a two-thirds vote being required for that

CONGRESSIONAL PAPERS. NO. II— THE SENATE.

purpose. In the Senate this is rarely
done. The usual course is to refer every
bill to the appropriate committee and
await the Committee's action as reported
by their chairman. If not reported in
the usual manner the bill may be regard-
ed as dead, unless the committee are di-
rected to consider the subject by special
vote of the Senate. When onee reported
favorably, without amendment, and
placed upon the "calendar" its passage
is a foregone conclusion. It is only a
question of time, regulated, generally,
by its numerical order upon the calendar.
By common consent, whenever any bill
or resolution, has been favorably report-
ed from committee, the report adopted,
and the bill or resolution placed upon
the calendar, its final passage is conced-
ed, and the yeas and nays are never
called except upon important bills, or
upon such measures as it is desired to
make a "record." A knowledge of this
simple fact will explain to the amazed
spectator who for the first time visits the
Senate galleries, the apparent indiffer-
ence of three or four score Senators to
what is passing before them. The pre-
siding officer will put through, perhaps,
thirty or forty bills of greater or less im-
portance, in as many minutes, calling
for the ayes and noes, verbally, in the
usual way, declare the bills passed, one
after another, and all the while not a
Senator responds for or against. This
method of passing bills is called "by
unanimous consent," which presupposes
every vote in favor of a bill, and is so re-
corded unless open objection is made. It
does not indicate, as would seem to the
casual observer, a sublime indifference
of Senators to important legislation, but
is only an expeditious method of passing
measures that have been carefully con-
sidered and agreed upon. The adoption
of this method, practically unknown in
the House, except during the closing
hours of a session, enables the Senate to
gain time, both in the consideration and
final passage of bills. It also enables the
enrolling clerks of the House to "antici-
pate" some of their work, and to enroll
a large number of bills in advance. A
given number of bills having passed the

House, and having been reported favora-
bly to the Senate and placed upon the
calendar without amendment, their final
passage in exactly the same form as re-
ported, is only a question of time. Con-
sequently, the House enrolling clerks
can enroll the bills, leaving the date of
the passage blank, and thus do much
work that would otherwise fail for want
of time. No bill— even if passed without
opposition by both houses of Congress —
can become a law, unless it is enrolled
upon parchment and presented to and
signed by the President of the United
States before the hour fixed for final ad-
journment. The Senate and House
might pass a thousand bills in good faith
and every one of them fail to become
laws if sufficient time was not given to
enroll them. Owing to the indecent
haste with' which all kinds of bills are
crowded through Congress during the
closing hours of the session, many bills
fail for this reason, and the number
would be largely increased were it not
for the "probabilities" indicated by the
Senate Calendar which enables the en-
rolling clerks to "take time by the
forelock."

The Senate has numerous other advan-
tages over the House which enables it to
transact business more rapidly, or rather
to give more time to the consideration of
important matters. It has less members.
Much less time is consumed in calling
the yeas and nays. The immense amount
of work required to prepare the great
appropriation bills, is all done by the
House. The Senate has only to revise
and amend. If the House Committee on
Appropriations does its work well, — the
Senate has but little to do comparatively.
Ordinarily, the Post-Office, Pension
and Indian appropriation bills pass the
Senate with few amendments. The Mil-
itary Academy, Navy, the consular and
diplomatic, the River and Harbor, and
the fortification bills, will be considera-
bly amended. The Deficiency bills pass
substantially as reported, while the "tug
of war" comes on the Legislative, the
Sundry Civil, and the Array. The Sun-
dry Civil, is known as the "Omnibus"
bill, as, like the vehicle from which it

CONGRESSIONAL PAPERS. NO. II— THE SENATE.

derives its name, there is always "room
for one more" — appropriation. On the
"•Omnibus" bill, if anywhere, the watch-
ful lobbyist, is able to get his little
amendment tacked on, and trusts to the
chances of the hurry and confusion of
final adjournment to put it- through.
Failing in this, all his hopes are blighted.

In the House there is never a session
to which the public is not admitted.
Even during a '"call of the House" when
the doors are locked and members can
get in only under the escort of the Ser-
geant-at-Arms, or his deputies, the pub-
lic are admitted as usual to all the galler-
ies. In the Senate, the "'Executive Ses-
sion" bars out everybody but Senators
and a few officials sworn to secrecy.
Here, at least, no prying reporter can
penetrate, and only by skillful cross-
questioning of Senators, or in some in-
stances by downright bribery of suscep-
tible officials, can the proceedings in
"executive session" be ascertained. Nev-
ertheless State secrets do leak out in
spite of all precautions, and generally
the statements elicited are so distorted,
that it may fairly be questioned whether
it might not be advantageous to entirely
remove the ban of secrecy in the highest
legislative body of a Republic.

The writer is not among that numer-
ous class of people who believes that the
Senate of the present decade has been an
essentially weak body of men, and that
all senatorial capacity, intelligence, and
dignity was confined to the times of the
famous triumvirate. Clay, Webster and
Calhoun. Washington "society" abounds
in "seedy" croakers of the ancient
regime who sigh— between drinks— for
the "good old times," and lament the

present "degeneracy" of Congress in gen-
eral, and the Senate in particular. Such
men never realize the fact that they are
merely the sunken rocks whose only use
is'to measure the depth of the wave of
progress that has rolled over them. The
Clays, Websters, Calhouns, Napoleons
and Bisinarcks, are the kind of men who
flourish once in a century. They impress
their characteristics upon the statesman-
ship of a century. In all the common
practical details of every-day legislation,
many men of less pretensions, unknown
to fame, are infinitely their superiors.
Fancy Daniel Webster in "conference"
on the Legislative bill, wrangling over a
coal-heaver's salary, or a doorkeeper's
wages ! or Henry Clay fixing up a post-
route bill providing for a tri-weekly
mail from Pumpkiuville Post Office to
Grasshopper Gulch! And yet all such
legislation is just as necessary as Web-
ster's reply to Hayne, or his letter to the
Austrian Minister. Indeed, it is abso-
lutely indispensable. As the country
grows larger, as it extends its vast net-
work of railroads, canals, and telegraphs ;
as it increases ^ts capacity for produc-
tion, and consequently its need for a bet-
ter market ; as its foreign and domestic
commerce expands or contracts in ac-
cordance with the laws of trade, all
these problems of tariff, revenue, inter-
nal improvements, transportation and
navigation, must of necessity claim the
legislator's most careful attention. On
their successful solution depends the
wealth and material prosperity of the
country. To solve them needs clear-
headed, intelligent, practical, common-
sense men, and of such I believe the
American Senate to be mainly composed,.

MY FRIENDS AND I : MEMORIES.

MY FBIENDS AND I: MEMORIES.

BY L. W. DODGE.

Like warp and woof our destinies

Are woven fast,
Linked in sympathy like the keys

Of an organ vast.

— Whittier.

A June morning unfolded its glories to
the susceptible nature of Will Austin at a
bright New England village on the banks
of the lordly Connecticut. The lonely
beauty and the wild, romantic surround-
ings of the locality at once won his po-
etic heart; and having no spot particu-
larly endeared to him by the fond ties
which cluster around tbe place we call
home, he resolved to tarry here until ful-
ly persuaded in mind what course in life
to pursue ; or where, and in what man-
ner, to begin his life work.

Being of a joyous disposition, and so-
cial withal, ray friend had soon made
many acquaintances among the first fam-
ilies of the village, and found himself a
welcome guest^wherever chance or fancy
found him, at the homes of the villagers.

Among his new-found friends, one of
the first was the merchant of the place,
a jovial, whole-souled sort of a man
generally, and who prided himself mostly
upon being the wealthy man of the town ;.
and in fact it was so ; which fact, too, he
seemed not too modest to magnify. His
home was a picture enjoyment ; beauti-
ful in its choice surroundings, showing
no lack of taste and j udgment in its ar-
rangements, being really what it was
often termed, a " paradise of beauty and
comfort."

Within the well-ordered store of the
merchant Will often found himself in
pleasant chat with the good-natured pro-
prietor, upon subjects of mutual interest;
and as the days passed away and the
busy season of trade was ushered in,
his aid was invoked, sometimes at the
desk, at others behind the counter at the
Bervice of customers, and ere long his

services became apparently indispen-
sible; accordingly he was duly installed
merchant's assistant, and became, like-
wise, a member of the merchant's fam-
ily, consisting heretofore of the store-
keeper, his amiable wife and lovely
daughter Ellen, an only child, just step-
ping beyond eighteen, and rich in all the
charms of young and innocent woman-
hood. Shall I tell you of her as I after-
wards knew her?

She was indeed a winsome girl, the im-
personation of loveliness, and with a
heart as light as her footstep. Her life
had never known a cloud, and her dark
and radiant eyes shone with the light of
pure and hopeful girlhood. Her soul,
which gleamed from out those blue
depths, was an ocean of purity and love.
She had grown to these years with all
the beautiful and attractive adornments
of a good, true woman's heart ; not
frozen to ice by worldliness, or by con-
trast with the coldness of so-called fash-
ionable society and its false motives.
Her personal charms I cannot well de-
scribe, but her [face was an attraction,
fair and fresh, and joyous as a June morn-
ing; her voice was a musical echo; she
loved the bright flowers, those wild chil-
dren of Eden, growing in sunny nooks ;
she loved the mountains and the forest,
and the wind among the trees ; the bab-
bling of the brooks and wild dashings of
the river; she loved the silent stars and
the golden glow of sunset; and she
adored Will Austin, too, with all the fer-
vor of a true woman's love.
And do you wonder that he worshipped

her in return? You might search the
country through and you would never
find one so universally beloved. She was
the village pet, and we all know what
that means. Gray hairs and children,
middle age and youth, all were happy

MY FRIENDS AND I: MEMORIES.

from her words of cheer, and joyous in
the smiles of her ruby lips ; for such
smiles ! they were like the blessings of
angels. But I am dwelling too long
upon her loveliness, and you sneer — at
what? The picture I have given you of
her love or her beauty? Well, doubt it if
you will. You did not know her. There
is such love in the world, and such ex-
cellence, and such beauty, too. You
may not have seen it.

A twelvemonth came and went, as all
years have, and will, and naught seemed
to occur to disturb the quiet river of the
lives of the young lovers. But now a
change came over the spirit of their
"love's young dream," the nature of
which we already know ; and it appeared
in this wise.

An undeserving scion of a gold-bearing
stock, a stern, cold-hearted man of the

orld, who knew no love but the love of
wealth, and possessed in his soul no mu-
sic but the click of gold, a business
friend of the merchant Burton, was in-
troduced to the family and cast a shadow
into the quiet home ; and that shadow
grew.

He was wealthy, as the world counts
riches, in stocks and lands, and the gold
that glitters ; but of the wealth that en-
riches the heart, builds up the divine man-
hood, and makes the world brighter and
better, he was sadly barreu. There was
in his nature no sunny spot where could
grow and blossom bright flowers to scat-
ter in bouquets of love and charity along
the pathway of life. But I will not de-
scribe him. We all know such, and
meet them in our daily walks and feel the
icy chill of their presence.

Did you ask me if he was welcomed at
the Burton mansion? By the father he
was ; and Ellen, who loved her parents
with -all the love of a fond and dutiful
heart, accorded to him that respect and
attention due her father's guest. But it
was not until a recurrence of his visits
again and yet again, that his true inten-
tions were manifest to the mind of the
innocent girl ; and when next he came,
for come he did, ostentatiously apparelled
and outfitted, Ellen was not at home, and
diligent inquiry failed to find her. A

messenger was sent throughout the vil-
lage, but no one had seen her, and when
hour after hour had passed and she re-
turned not, the wooer reluctantly relin-
quished the purpose of his coming; and
the early-rising moon of that evening saw
the aristocratic carriage of the heir of
the house of Ross, disappearing south-
ward along the valley.

A week later saw its return, and this
time unannounced ; but the bird had
flown again, and no one knew whither.
Shall I tell you a secret? I will, since it
is difficult to keep, and I am not sure but
it has been told, for this was years ago ;
more, indeed, than I care to remember,
so fast do they come and go.

The winds knew of her hasty flight ;
the birds welcomed her to their shadowy
retreats ; and the wild mountain stream
that went laughing adown the glen and
among the rocks, bearing no impress
where those dainty feet had trod, told
not the secret of her flight and hiding-
place. I think Will knew, however, al-
though he never told me so ; but he did
tell me how, very soon after the disap-
pointed visitant had bidden his perplexed
host "good night," and said adieu to the
genial hostess, a light glimmered sud-
denly out, like a guiding star, from the
west window of the old garret, facing
toward the mountain and the glen, and
half an hour afterwards came "Black
Ben " from up the ravine, followed by a
rustling among the shadows, as of the
evening wind among the bushes. And I
think, too, the moon was in the secret,
for as Will and " the rustling" met at
the pasture gate, she came smilingly
from behind the hill, beaming with joy
at the meeting; but then, she always
laughs at those glad scenes.

But I am wearying you with details.
I must hasten to tell you how the next
day brought around an interview be-
tween the father and daughter, at which
he told her his wishes, that she should
encourage the attentions of " Walter
Ross " with a view of becoming his wife.
He looked upon it as a very desirabU
match, as, in addition to his actual pos
sessions, which were ample, he was tne
prospective heir to a large estate of ten-

MY FRIENDS AND I: MEMORIES.

anted lards, and much well-paying bank
stock. He was a man of fine personal
appearance, fairly intellectual, and quite
moral, as the world goes. To be sure he
was somewhat wild and given to excess,
but all this he would outwear with years
of experience and the counter charms of
wedded life ; and then he was of a very
aristocratic progeniture, being in direct
line of descent from Geo. Ross, a signer
of the Declaration of Independence, and
a distinguished member of the Conti-
nental Congress.

Now we must not judge from this that
the father of Ellen Burton was alto-
gether a mean and selfish man ; there
were in his nature many warm and sunny
spots, and, as I have said, he loved his
only child with all the tondness of a de-
voted parent, and in urging the suit of
this petitioner for the hand of his daugh-
ter, he was not at all unmindful of her fu-
ture happiness; but he. like many anoth-
er that you know, fancied that the
amount or degree of earthly bliss de-
pended upon the extent of earthly pos-
sessions, and standing in what the world
is pleased to term society. He was
wealthy, and consequently, he thought,
happy; hence his conclusions; so we
need not wonder that when Ellen de-
clined to accept his views or comply with
his wishes, telling him she could not give
her hand where her heart, could never go,
he was overcome with a mi igling of
grief and offended authority ; and when
later she ventured to tell him of her deep
love for Will Austin, and that she pre-
ferred the wealth ol his heart and noble
manhood to the boasted opulence and
sumptuous surroundings of this stranger,
he waxed ireful, the cloud of his anger
gathering fury, until an hour later, it
burst woefully upon the head of the in-
nocent lover.

You know already with what effect.
We heard it as we stood in the starlight
ot that evening, as the shadows gathered
in the park ; and we heard it again from
the lips of my friend as we sauntered
along that valley road until the night
grew old and the stars disappeared in
the flush of the morning's dawn.
I left him that morning, his soul op-

pressed with sad thoughts at the pros-
pect of parting with her he loved with a
pure and holy affection, and who he be-
lieved worshipped him as divinely.

" She will be true to me. I know," he
said, in one of his moments of rapture.
" The heart of the father, too, will yet
relent, and I will come back in time, and
then: "

Here his voice was checked with emo-
tion, and pressing my hand passionately,
we parted.

He left, next day, for Europe, and I
heard from him casually as he flitted
here and there. First a greeting from
Switzerland ; then a line from that " City
in the Sea," throned on her hundred
isles : " I stood in Venice on the Bridge
of Sighs ; a palace and a prison on either
hand." A tew weeks later another, in
Will's peculiar hand and style; " At the
' Arch of Titus,' gray with centuries, and
away through the deep blue skies of
Rome I waft a message to thee." Then
" Dreaming of home

again, after a time ;

twilight, from

in this Sabbath
Thebes of a hundred gates — travel-
stained with dust that throbbed with life
four thousand years ago ; wandering
above the ruins of ancient temples,
while the night sweeps down loaded with
glory; gazing upon the stony face of
' Meuinon,' gloomy with ages forgotten,
while the shadows steal across the plaiu
and over the time-hallowed graves and city
of Pharaohs. In the misty silence of the
halls of Karnak, among whose gloomy
ruins the dun fox and the wild hyena
call, and owls and flitting bats startle the
echoes and fill the imagination with vis-
ions of uncanny spirits and ghosts of
long-mummied Egyptians."

A month later and he was at Jerusa-
lem, the holy city, realizing thus the
cherished dreams of his boyhood : " Ly-
ing in the starlight of Olivet, gazing with
tear-dimmed eyes above the hills of
Judea; breathing inspirations of glory
from above the ' Mount of Ascension,'
made sacred in the eyes and faith of mil-
lions by the footsteps of the ' Son of
Mary' ; following in imagination the ca-
reer of those strange but brave men, those
zealous followeis of the humble Naza-

MY FRIENDS AND I: MEMORIES.

rene, who came from afar to lay down
their lives, and thereby expiate their sins
in endeavoring to wrest the sepulcher
from unholy hands ; from the possession
of the " Camel driver of Mecca."

But I am getting along slowly with
my memories. I must hasten to tell you.
This was the last I heard from the wan-
derer, and when weeks lengthened into
months and no tidings came of him, I
could but conclude he had, in some of
his lonely ramblings, fallen a victim to
Bedouin rapacity, and thought his pil-
grimage ended in that sunny land.

I saw Ellen Burton but twice during
all this time, and once was to convey a
message from her noble lover. It was
indeed painful to mark the change these
months had wrought. She was no longer
the happy, light-hearted girl of former
times. The bloom of health had faded
from those rosy cheeks, and brightness
from her eye. Her step was no longer
elastic, but lingering, and her friends
saw her less frequently among them ;
and it began to be whispered that she
was going by the dark road. Few knew
wherefore she pined and faded, but she
was dying, the doctor said, and he should
know, for he was their old family physi-
cian, and was skilled and wise. The fa-
ther knew whereof she was dying, and
he sighed as the great waves of his ago-
ny rolled over his soul. Also he would
give all of his possessions to be able to
turn back the events of past months, or
stem the consequences of that tide of
circumstances; but he knew he could
not, and that is why the iron frame shook
with suppressed grief.

It was in October; a golden day near
its close; one of those brightest of In-
dian Summer days, when the whole
world is as radiant as a gleam of Heaven.
I had been all day revelling amid the
scenes of summer-garnered sunshine
glories ; riding over the hills toward the
valley whereof you know.

A message came for me, and I knew
instantly whence it came, and whereof,
and I went immediately to the home of
the Burtons, for I knew I was called to
the bedside of the dying girl. I hardly
waited to be announced, and waving cer-

emony, passed quietly, following the
servant, to the sick room.

Many eyes were red with weeping;
the members of the family were stand-
ing around the bed, and the old doctor
scattering his words of comfort. There
were circles of sad-eyed friends about
the room, watching that young spirit
pluming itself for heavenly flight. I
was motioned to the bedside, and taking
gently in mine the withered hand of the
pale form, I stooped to catch in broken
whispers : —

"Tell Will, if you ever meet him, I
will remember our tryst."

This was all; and closing again those
dimmed eyes she seemed quietly sleep-
ing.

A window was opened toward the
river, and once, when the breeze came
in, bearing with it a murmur of waters
and a sighing of the wind among the
old pines near the house, a smile lighted
up her calm face, and the lips moved,
and we knew the listening soul was
charmed into lingering by the familiar
melody ; but again the eyelids drooped
and the sunny ej'e was closed, but the
lips still smiled sweetly as if pressed by
the kisses of angels ; and the angels
were glad, for they were again welcom-
ing to their number a loved one so long
a wanderer from her native heaven.

I was standing near the door opening
into the broad hall, and gazing listlessly
out upon the hillside, now tinged with
the last rays of the setting sun. The
shadows up the glen were growing deep-
er and more gloomy; the brooklet
laughed not, but tinkled sorrowfully;
the winds up among the pines and the
old rocks whispered mournfully, for
they were lisping to each other the sad
story.

The servant announced a stranger, and
at the instant, unceremoniously but qui-
etly, a dark form glided past, and I
looked to see, kneeling at the couch of
the silent sleeper, one whom I did not at
first recognize. The nerveless hand was
held oairessingly in his, and the pale
lips erewhile so lifeless, were pressed
with the warm kisses of love. There
were no words around that wondering

RICHARD POTTER.

group, but many tears and loud beating
hearts. I stepped forward as the lips
parted, and " dear Will," was whispered
almost inaudibly ; nothing more.

I deemed it best to retire and leave the
frail flower to those who loved her best,
and to whom she was dearest, and only
pressing the hand of my friend, travel-
worn and almost overcome with this sud-
den grief, (he had been told of Ellen's
death before reaching the village) I
went out and over to my room at the ho-
tel.

The dim-lighted windows, and shadows
moving silently about in the mansion
across the river, disturbed my sleep un-
til long after the noon of night had stud-
ded the sky with starry watchers.

I only heard next day that the weary
soul still tarried among friends on this
side ; and receiving a promise from Will
that he would inform me when the
change came, I left the place and friends,
hoping against feeble hope.

A telegram reached me a week later,
only saying : " She is still with us, and
doctor says she is better."

But why need I trouble you longer
with details? The sequel is soon told in
an extract received from my friend some
months after I left them as above, in
which he says :

" You must be sure and come ; the cir-
cle will be incomplete without yon. We
shall have a quiet wedding, but it will
be a happy one. E. says, as you have
been a sharer in our sorrows, so bhould
you witness our highest joy. We are to
have the old homestead on the river, and
it is a sunny home since the light of it
has returned to us. Poor, dear girl, how
she must have suffered during those long
months of loneliness. But it is all past,
and the sun shines brightly where erst
but cloud shadows spread. Be sure and
come, and we will have a ' Merry Christ-
mas,' indeed."

And I was there.

BICHABD POTTEB.

BY REV. SILAS KETCHUM, WINDSOR, CONN.

Read before the Annual Meeting of the New

" In Memory of Richard Potter, the
Celebrated Ventriloquist, who died Sept.
20, 1S35, aged 52 years."

Such is the legend on the stone that
marks the resting-place of a very re-
markable man. To the generation now
passing and nearly passed away, no man
in New England was better known, prob-
ably, than he. From Quebec to New
Orleans there was scarcely a man, woman
or child that had not beheld with vacant
wonder his marvelous tricks, or laughed
themselves weak at his endless ventrilo-
quial imitations and inimitable drollery.

How he would compare for skill with
men of his own craft in our day it would
be impossible to determine. Professors
of his art were by no means so common
in the days of our fathers as now. The
chemistry of the atmosphere, of liquids
and heat was less generally understood.
The principles of electricity and magne-

Hampshire Antiquarian Society, July 16, 1878.

tism were scarcely understood at all.

Tricks with these, which would have

been incredible except on demonstration,

are now familiar to every school-boy.

In Potter's day the notion of magic and

the possession of occult powers, was by

no means eradicated from the popular

mind. Whether he was greater or less

than Signor Blitz, the Fakir of Ava,

Jonathan Harrington and '"the Great

Hermann," it would be only a matter of

speculation to enquire. Probably the

latter; as all arts tend to elimination of

the crude and the perfection of their

methods.
But, if all that has been reported of

Potter is true, he must have possessed
powers not only marvelous, but su-
pernatural. He could handle and
swallow melted lead. He could go into
a heated oven, with a joint of raw meat,
and remain in the oven till the meat was

RICHARD POTTER.

cooked. He could dance on eggs and
not break them. He could cause a tur-
key-cock to draw a mill-log across the
platform. He could cause<any lady in
the audience to find a peeping chicken in
her pocket ; or gentleman a " bumblebee"
imprisoned in the handkerchief in the
top of his hat, without himself leaving
the stage or their leaving their seats.
All these and other feats equally impos-
sible, the writer has heard related of
Potter, by persons who declared they
had seen him do them.

Of the nationality of Richard Potter
various statements have been made,
widely circulated and believed, and noth-
ing certain is known. Of any part of
his early history no more than probabili-
ties can be reached, by piecing together
parts of various stories, of which he ap-
pears to have been the author.

He was commonly called "Black Pot-
ter," and had the appearance of a mulat-
to. The story was currently reported,
in the vicinity of his own home in An-
dover, that he was the son of a negro
woman in Boston, and that Benjamin
Franklin was his father. That the moth-
er was a servant in a Boston family, and
that, after the birth of the child, Frank-
lin furnished her a home in a back street
behind the State House, where Potter
lived till he was ten years of age. Ste-
phen Fellows of Grafton, who was Pot-
ter's assistant during the last years of his
travels, and. with Potter's son, succeed-
ed to the business, and who now possess-
es all of the great magician's kit there is
in existence, assured the writer that Pot-
ter told him this story in confidence. It
is entirely probable; and that Potter
told it in one of his fits of humor, to par-
ry enquiries as to his early life, concern-
ing which he appears to have been al-
ways reticent. Nevertheless, the story
became current, and was confidently be-
lieved by many who ought to have
known better.

The folly of the assertion is seen in the
fact that Franklin was not in America
after November or December 1776, till
1785; and was not probably in Boston
after his departure to England, in 1764,
until after the latter date ; while Rich-

ard Potter, if the date and age on his
tomb-stone are correct, was born in 1783,
at which time Frank liu was 77 years old.

Potter told Fellows that he was at ten
years of age, picked up by a ship-captain,
and carried as a cabin boy to London.
Being there turned adrift upon the city,
he fell in with a travelling circus, with
which, in the capacity of a servant boy,
he remained four or five years, visiting
all the large towns and cities of England ;
that the circus then came to America,
and was the first that ever exhibited in
the United States; then he returned to
America with the company, being then
past fifteen years of age, and continued
in that service two or three years, dur-
ing which time he acquired from his em-
ployers and associates the knowledge
and practice of the art he afterwards pur-
sued ; and that, when about eighteen
years old, he left the circus and set up
business for himself as a magician and
ventriloquist.

There was, however, an opinion widely
prevalent, within the territory of his
most freqent exhibitions, that Potter was
a native of the East Indies. It was con-
fidently affirmed, by many persons who
professed to be acquainted with him,
that he had himself so reported. And
that he had so stated is rendered proba-
ble, by the currency of this story among
those who had witnessed his perform-
ances, and held desultory conversation
with him before tavern fires, in places
widely remote from each other. The
writer has heard it repeated, with varia-
tions, but with a general agreement of
points, in Maine, New Hampshire, Ver-
mont. Massachusetts and New York.

Among his townsmen in Andover, the
general understanding seems to have
been that he was a native of one of the
West India islands. But his complexion
and physiognomy it was said, by those
whose acquaintance with both races en-
abled them to judge, indicated the pres-
ence of Asiatic rather than of African
blood. And among many, who had nev-
er heard of the Franklin story, though
living in sections far apart, it was firmly
believed that he was the son of an Eng-
lishman by a Hindu mother. This was

RICHARD POTTER.

the version which, in northern Vermont,
the writer as a boy always heard and
never questioned. But it was, undoubt-
edly, false.

Nevertheless, in both versions of the
origin and early life of u the celebrated
ventriloquist," there are some points of
agreement, that not only point toward a
common authorship, but give rise to tbe
suspicion that, with whatever of ro-
mance there may be in either, there may
be also some grains of truth. And this
supposition receives some encourage-
ment from certain corroborative circum-
stances, known to be historic.

Whether Potter ever told the Franklin
story to anyone beside Stephen Fellows,
does not appear. But even if he did not.
it is no matter of surprise that it should
obtain a considerable circulation. For
Fellows, as his assistant, supposed to be
conversant with his affairs, would be the
party most easy of access, and most like-
ly to be questioned, in all places where
they exhibited, concerning his employ-
er's origin and history. And that Potter
had given him a true history, Fellows
seems never for a moment to have
doubted.

But in both the Franklin and the Hin-
du version are certain points of identity.
In both he is the son of a white father
and of a colored mother. By the be-
lievers in each it was understood that he
was not born in wedlock. By both it
was said he was picked up by a ship-cap-
tain — the one said in the streets of Bos-
ton, the other in the streets of Calcutta —
and carrried to London. Both agreed
that he there drifted about, without care
or guardianship, until he came to Amer-
ica under twenty years of age. Both un-
derstood that he first landed in this
country in Boston. Both had heard that
he learned his tricks of hand and voice in
boyhood, and in foreign parts. And, by
those who believed in his Hindu origin,
the assumption was natural that, being
quick and bright, he had acquired them
in his native country from the Hindu
jugglers.

In 1872, Moses B. Goodwin, Esq., for-
merly a correspondent of the National
Intelligencer at Washington, was editor

of the Merrimack (N. H.) Journal. In
issue of Nov. 8, of that year, he gave an
account of an interview, which took
place in 1848. between Joseph T. Buck-
ingham, editor of the Boston Evening
Courier, and the Hon. Geo. W. Nesmith
of Franklin. At that time the Northern
(N. H.) Railroad had just opened to trav-
el. The two gentlemen above named
were journeying together from Franklin
toward the northern terminus of the
road, engaged in conversation. When
the train reached the Potter Place, and
the name of the station was. announced
by the conductor, Mr. Buckingham en-
quired for whom the station was named,
and on being informed that it was for-
merly the abode of the great magician,
he proceeded to state the circumstances
of his first acquaintance, and subsequent
business and friendly relations, with that
gentleman.

Mr. Buckingham said that when he
had finished his apprenticeship in the of-
fice of the Greenfield (Mass.) Gazette, he
went to Boston and set up business as a
job printer. That he boarded at an old
and well-known tavern called The Bite,
kept by one Bradley, near Market
Square. That one day a small-sized,
sharp-eyed, dark-complexioned young
man sat down with him to dinner. That
after the meal was finished, this young
man enquired of Bradley for a suitable
man to do some printing. That Bradley
thereupon introduced him to Mr. Buck-
ingham. The small-sized, sharp-eyed,*
dark-complexioned man was Richard
Potter.

Between the two there soon sprung up
relations of confidence, respect and
friendship ; and Mr. Buckingham be-
lieved that, when exhibiting in this
country, and within such distance of
Boston as to render it possible for him
to do so, Potter from that day forth to
the end of his life, gave him all his pat-
ronage in printing. He stated that Pot-
ter had paid him thousands of dollars ;
that he always paid promptly and dealt
honorably ; and that, in his long career
as a printer, only two other men had
ever given him more encouragement or
pecuniary aid.

RICHAKD POTTER.

Mr. Buckingham spoke with much
feeling of the "Genial Showman." and
with a "tender respect for his memory;"
dwelt at length on the details of his long
and intimate acquaintance with him;
and declared him to be one of the noblest
and most generous men he had ever
known.

Now Buckingham left the office of the
Greenfield Gazette and went to Boston in
1800. He had but recently established
himself there when he was introduced to
Potter. The fact that Potter enquired
of Bradley for a printer, coupled with
the generally-understood fact that the re-
nowned magician commenced his career
in Boston, would indicate that he was
just starting in business for himself, and
had had no printing done before. This
might have been in 1800, and was not
probably later than 1801. In 1800, Pot-
ter was seventeen years old.

In the story told to Fellows he said
that he left the employ of the circus and
started business when about eighteen
years of age, which would exactly coin-
cide with the time at which he was hav-
ing his first printing done in Boston.
This would tend to enhance the proba-
bility that the story was not all fiction,
and that he learned his art from some
company of mountebanks with which he
was associated when a boy.

From that time forward there is no
trace nor tradition of Richard Potter,
connected with any fixed date or loca-
tion, that I have been able to discover,
for the next twenty years. An examina-
tion of files of newspapers, published in
Boston, and various other towns and
cities of the Eastern and Middle States,
would doubtless throw some light on his
history during that period. But such
examination I have not been able to
make.

His headquarters, and whatever'horae"
he had, are supposed to have been in
Boston. It is certain, however, that he
travelled widely, and had become known
and famous, previous to 1820. It is cer-
tain that he had, within that time visited
Europe, for he was for a time with Na-
poleon; though not as a soldier. It is
certain that he had married and that his

two children were born before the latter
date. It is certain that his wife travelled
and performed with him, until she be-
came unfitted to do so, from* habits of
intemperance.

But with what particular successes or
adventures he met ; how extensively he
circulated, what countries he visited:
when, where and whom he married, or
where his children were born, the writer
knoweth not.

In the winter of 1875, at my suggestion
and request, and in order to procure for
me the information I desired, Moses B.
Goodwin, Esq., above named, visited An-
dover (N. H.), where Potter spent the
last fifteen years of his life, and made
minute enquiries of the old residents of
the place, who had been acquainted with
him and his family.

From a near neighbor to Potter, dur-
ing his residence in Andover, whose son
was, at one time, Potter's travelling as-
sistant and partner in the business; from
Hon. Geo. W. Nesmith of Franklin, who
was acquainted with Potter's affairs ; and
from Mrs. Isabella West, an aged and in-
telligent lady of Franklin, whose hus-
band in Potter's day, kept a tavern in
Boscawen, at which Potter and his wife
were frequent guests, Mr. Goodwiu ob-
tained much reliable intelligence con-
cerning the great magician. From his
subsequent letters, and from his article
in the Merrimack Journal above referred
to, a large part of the facts of this his-
tory were obtained ; for which the writer
hereby expresses his grateful acknowl-
edgements.

About 1820 Potter purchased a farm of
about 175 acres in that part of Andover
which now bears his name. On this he
erected a residence 22x38 feet, fronting
on the turnpike, the whole second story
of which was one room ; the lower story
being divided by a hall running through
the house. This he finished and furnished
with elegant display, regardless of the
cost; and, it was said, with taste and
judgment. He was generous to a fault,
kept open house, and dispensed a liberal
hospitality. In another house, entire-
ly separate from the mansion, was
done all the cooking and housework.

RICHARD POTTER.

located all the servants' offices, after the
manner of the South, and there, also,
were all the sleeping-rooms.

Mr. Potter carried on extensive farm-
ing operations, raised excellent crops,
and cultivated choice breeds of cattle,
horses and swine ; raising great numbers
of the latter. The grounds about his
house were tastefully laid out. well kept,
and ornamented with a great variety and
profusion of shrubs and flowers, of which
both he and his wife were passionately
fond.

Both of them affected considerable dis-
play in dress, selecting rare and costly
materials of foreign make, distinguished
for rich and brilliant colors. In this each
followed the characteristics of the peo-
ple from which they sprung.

Stephen Fellows assured me that Pot-
ter told him that Mrs. Potter was a full-
blooded Penobscot-Indian squaw. If he
did it was but one of his freaks of humor.
No one, acquainted with the characteris-
tics of the native American women,
would probably ever have mistaken her
for one of them. According to Mr.
Goodwin, she was, when in her prime, a
finely-formed, beautiful and graceful
woman, who had an easy carriage, bright
and expressive eyes, danced charmingly,
and knew how to dress. She was intel-
ligent, refined, well informed, engaging
in her manners and conversation, and
proud as a princess. She had a rich
voice, and was a sweet singer. All the
authorities above quoted agree without
hesitation in declaring her a native of In-
dia. It seems to have been always so
understood by those who knew her
best, and they had their information from
her and her husband. Where, nobody
knows, but somewhere in his travels,
most likely while in Europe, Potter
came across this brilliant and fascinating
daughter of the East, and married her.
He was fond and proud of her and cher-
ished her with loyal affection, even after
she had contracted habits which dis-
graced both herself and him.

They had an only son and an only
daughter. The former was a spendthrift
and a drunkard; the latter a half-idiot,
given to uncontrollable lewdness. It is

said that the perpetual and untold shame
and anguish of the proud and sensitive
mother, because of the conduct and con-
dition of her children, drove her to seek
" some nepenthe to her soul " in the ob-
livion of constant inebriation. Certain
it is chat she became disqualified for all
duties, either in public or at home ; caused
her husband immeasurable trouble; in-
dulged in scandalous extravagance, com-
pelling him to seek remedy at law to pre-
vent her from running him ruinously in
debt; that her charming beauty and
quick intelligence were utterly wrecked ;
and that she died the victim of her own
indulgence.

With unqualified confidence the same
authorities all assert that Richard Potter
was a native of one of the French West
India Islands, the Franklin and Hindu
stones to the contrary notwithstanding.
His hair was soft and handsome, but it
testified to his African extraction. He
was once turned out of a hotel in Mo-
bile, while Thompson of Andover trav-
eled with him, by a landlord who would -
not entertain a " nigger." Potter did
not deny the charge, removed to another
hotel, performed twelve nights in the
town, and carried off $4,800 in silver, in
a nail cask, as the net result. Learning
that there was danger of being waylaid,
he gave out that he was going to a certain
place on a certain day, and departed
the night previous in the opposite direc-
tion. He was often called a mulatto, and
never contradicted the aspersion. His

characteristics raise a strong suspicion
of Creole origin.

He was proud, high spirited, courte-
ous in deportment, independent, the soul
of honor, generous and brave. As a cit-
izen of Andover, to which town he came
to remove his wife and children from the
influences of city life, he was public
spirited, honorable in business .prompt to
pay, a kind neighbor and trusted friend.
He was kind and liberal to the poor, and
an early mover in the cause of temper-
ance. He was a man of rare executive
ability, of endless native resources, and
possessed a mind enriched by experience,
and well stored with information. His

wit was fertile, quick as thought and
sharp as steel.

ILLEGIBLE MANUSCRIPT IX PRINTING-OFFICES.

The more I have learned of the history
and character of the ;t Celebrated Ven-
triloquist," the more I have been com-
pelled to pay him honor. When I re-
member the race to which he belonged ;
the probable deteriorating influences un-
der which he passed his early life ; the ab-
sence of all family and social ties and re-
straints ; the incentives and allurements
to recklessness and ruin ; the lack of all
the ordinary processes and opportunities
for education and discipline; the profes-
sion which he chose and followed ; the
disgrace of his wife and infamy of his
children ; and that, under all these, he
lived honorably and died respected; I
seem to see a man whom nature has roy-
ally endowed, struggling against vast
odds which finally threw but never van-
quished him. "He was as good a citizen
as ever lived in Andover; and one of the
truest and best men that ever lived ! "
This was the testimony of his nearest
neighbor for forty years after Potter
died.

The lewdness of the half-idiot daugh-
ter occasioned litigation, after Potter's
death, in which Judge Nesmith and the
late Samuel Butterfield were counsel,
out of which grewa curious decision in
law in relation to adultery, that obtained
considerable notoriety in New Hamp-
shire.

Potter was buried in his own front
yard. When the Northern railroad was
built his remains had to be moved back
some yards, the limits of the road cover-

ing his first resting-place. The wife did
not long survive her husband, and a
simple marble slab " In Memory of Sally
H., wife of Richard Potter, '"who died
Oct. 24, 1836, aged 49 years," preserves
her name from oblivion. The two graves
have been pointed out by the conductors
on the Northern road, to numberless
travellers within the last thirty years.

The daughter died and, it is said, was
buried beside her parents. But no trace
of a grave is discoverable.

The son's name was Richard Crom-
well. He was sometimes called " Dick"
and sometimes " Crom." He was dis-
solute and unprincipled. The property
which his father left he soon squan-
dered. He sold the farm to a Mr. Colby
of Bow, who sold it to Aaron Colby of
Andover, who sold it to Wm. Howe,
Esq., who sold it to John E. Morrison,
the present owner.

Taking his father's apparatus he trav-
eled, in company with Stephen Fellows,
for a time, giving exhibitions, but was
not successful. He finally mortgaged
the kit, and when it was taken from him
under the mortgage, he broke into the
premises where it was kept and stole it;
in consequence of which he became a fu-
gitive, as he had long before been a vag-
abond, and was last heard of at Lansing-
burg, N. Y. Thus is the family of the
" great Magician " become extinct; but
his name and his fame appear to have
become historic.

ILLEGIBLE MANUSCRIPT IN PBINTING-OFFICES.

BY ASA MC FARLAND.

In every well-regulated printing-office
inflexible rules are observed regarding
manuscript that is to be put in type.
The necessity for such rules is obvious ;
for authors, in general, have no standard
themselves, and their manuscripts differ
as much as the peculiarities of those who
prepare them. Many thoroughly-edu-
cated men write a hand of which they

ought to be ashamed; others, with mea
gre educational advantages, make lines
so fair that the youngest apprentices at
the printing-business have no difficulty
in putting their " copy " into type. The
late Rufus Choate, so eminent as a law-
yer and so eloquent as an advocate, wrote
a hand so obscure as to confound printers
and all others who undertook to decipher

ILLEGIBLE MANUSCRIPT IN" PRINTING-OFFICES.

his letters and other papers. He also
made sentences two of which have been
known to fill an octavo page, and put no
punctuation marks into his work. Some
writers, and those, too, of ambitious pre-
tensions to scholarship, seem to have no
proper idea of punctuation, and distribute
capital letters with the utmost freedom,
and in defiance of all rules laid down in
the books. Others, again, employ no
other punctuation than a dash ( — ) which,
with them, takes the place of the com-
ma, colon and semicolon. Another class
of writers underscore about one word in
every three — the purpose being to impart
emphasis to the underscored words,
since such are, according to the rule, put
in italic type. But they can carry the
practice to such an extreme that they
not only fail in their object, because of
the multitude of their italic words, but
mar the printed page. A book that is
well printed should contain as few italic
words as possible, and those be employed
only where, according to well-established
practice, they are required. Hon.
Henry Hubbard, Governor of New Hamp-
shire in 1842 and 1843, wrote annual mes-
sages of great length, plentifully supplied
with italic words, to the discomfort of
printers in the office of the New Hamp-
shire Patriot, and those in all other news-
paper offices in the State which published
the messages of that chief magistrate.

If all manuscriptj sent to newspaper
and book printing-offices was printed as
written — and it is very common for au-
thors to direct the printer to " follow
copy " — many aspiring public men would
cut a sorry figure after their productions
appeared in print. Men have been known
• to place a capital letter at the commence-
ment of every line, as if engaged in mak-
ing verses ; others, as before remarked,
employ the (— ) with " perfect impunity
and great boldness," and others punctu-
ate hap-hazard. Sensible men, however,
submit their compositions to the printer
with directions to capitalize and punctu-
ate as to him seems proper; well aware
that if he is master of his business he
will make straight whatever is crooked,
and present the author to the public in
better plight than he could himself.

In most cases the proof sheets of man-
uscript sent to the offices of daily and
weekty journals are not sent to the au-
thors. It is otherwise in book and job
printing establishments, and it is com-
mon for authors to make the final correc-
tion. This is a procedure that affords
mutual satisfaction ; for, when the writer
has revised his work, no other responsi-
bility rests upon the printer than to see
that the types are not disarranged and
that the press-work is properly done.
And right here is a point where many
printers have had experience of a trying
character, namely, in material changes
from the copy, and sometimes to such an
extent as to greatly enhance to the au-
thor the cost of his work. In a well-
remembered instance in the experience
of the writer of this article, an address
before a literary society in Dartmouth
College, printed in pamphlet form in the
office of the New Hampshire Statesman,
was so changed by the author's correc-
tions as to more than double the cost of
the work. The additional expense was
of course borne by him; but even if the
printer be reimbursed for his time, labor
and perplexity, the work itself is marred
by a multitude of typographical changes,
and the satisfaction ot producing a good
specimen of printing greatly lessened.
The prolific power of some writers seems
greatly quickened by the sight of their
proof sheets.

The difference between fair and illegi-
ble manuscript is like that between a day
in June and one in mid-winter. One
causes smiles, the other frowns. It the
hand-writing of a writer is illegible, he
' should employ a copyist, and every one
who writes for the press should cover
only one side of the sheets. Many news-
paper offices reject all manuscript written
on both surfaces of the paper, however
eminent the author or important and
seasonable the topic he discusses. In a
business experience of many years we
found it greatly to the advantage of the
office to examine and prepare for compo-
sition most manuscript that came to us.
Unless this course was pursued with the
larger portion of it, the inevitable conse-
quence was increased labor and vexation

PROCEEDINGS OF THE N. H. ANTIQUARIAN SOCIETY.

in correcting the proofs. The manu-
script of some writers can never be for-
gotten for its illegible and slovenly char-
acter, and that of others will be long re-
membered for its excellence. John
Farmer, Esq.. one of the founders
and many years the right arm of the
New Hampshire Historical Society,
wrote a hand that a child could read, and
his pen, too, moved with much rapidity.
Much of his manuscript is deposited in
the rooms of that institution at Concoid.
His patient researches were mainly of
genealogical and historical character, and
appeared in the Historical Collections of
the Society, and caused him to be well
known throughout New England, al-
though he was most of life an invalid,
and rarely went abroad. Several manu-
script volumes treating of graduates of
Harvard College, deposited in the rooms
of the Historical Society, bear testimony
to his careful toil in a department of lit-
erature that has few attractions to most
people of literary taste. The manuscript
of Hon. John J. Gilchrist, a Justice,
and subsequently Chief Justice of the
Supreme Court of this State, was abso-
lutely perfect. In a long experience we
have never had to do with better "copy."

He prepared a Digest of all the Reports
of Cases decided up to the time he was
Chief Justice, and it was printed by
McFarland & Jenks for Gardner P. Lyon,
bookseller. It is a volume of more than
six hundred octavo pages, and rarely or
never has an equal amount of work
moved along more pleasantly. Other
Justices and Chief Justices of that Court
made excellent manuscript, but that of
Judge Gilchrist was perfection itself.

Every author desirous of ascertaining
how much space his manuscript will fill
in page and type of prescribed size, and
would count the cost before he com-
mences to build, should write upon pa-
per of uniform size and place the same
number of lines upon a page. The
printer can then determine the number
of printed pages the manuscript will fill
and the cost of the work. This is, of
course, upon the presumption that the
author makes no additions while the
work is in press, and no material altera-
tions from the copy. We printed a
small work many years ago which the
writer thought would fill about twenty-
four pages, but he made such copious
additions that it exceeded seventy-five.

PROCEEDINGS OF THE NEW HAMPSHIRE ANTIQUARIAN SOCIETY.

CONTOOCOOK, JULY 17, 1878.

The day was auspicious, and the at-
tendance larger than on any former oc-
casion. The Society's rooms were found
too small to accommodate those present,
and to transact business with comfort.

The meeting was called to order at 10
A. M., the President, Rev. Silas Ketchum
of Windsor, Conn., in the chair. After
the reading of the minutes of the last
Quarterly Meeting, the President read
his annual address, setting forth the con-
dition of the Society's affairs, a general
review of its transactions for the past
year, and making several recommenda-
tions, to wit: The weeding out of the
duplicates and undesirable articles in the

museum and library; the donation and
exchange of articles to and with certain
societies ; the careful husbanding of the
Society's resources ; the vigorous prose-
cution of the work of the Historical Com-
mittee, particularly in the collection of
the perishing materials for history. and in
gathering lists of sepulchral inscriptions
from the various towns.

George H. Ketchum, Curator, reported
the donation of about 3000 articles to the
library and museum during the year,
making the whole number to the present
time a little over 33,000. Among the re-
cent additions was a collection of about
150 manuscripts formerly belonging to

PROCEEDINGS OF THE N. H. ANTIQUARIAN SOCIETY

Gen. Arnos Shepard, consisting of docu-
ments relating to the early settlement
and settlers of Alstead ; also valuable
mineral specimens from the Yellowstone
Park by Hon. Chas. H. Bennett of Iowa,
and from Arizona by G. S. Davis of Cal-
ifornia.

H. A. Fellows, Chairman of the His-
torical Committee, presented the folds of
the fifth volume of the Society's Ms. Col-
lections. In it are copied the papers of
the late Gen. Aquila Davis of Warner,
and a memorandum book kept by his
father, Capt. Francis, first settler of the
town. Also interesting papers relating
to the early settlement of Boscawen and
Dixville, formerly belonging to Col.
Henry Gerrish, Col. Timothy Dix and
Daniel Webster. The Committee was
given more time to arrange, index and
bind the volume.

Charles Gould reported that he had
nearly completed the copying of the sep-
ulchral insciiptions of Hopkinton. The
Society has already extensive lists, some
of them complete, of inscriptions in Bris-
tol, Hill, Ashland, Alexandria. Franklin,
Concord, Henniker, Dunbarton, Exeter,
Hanover and other towns. Most of
these are already recorded and indexed.

William H. Stinson, Esq., of Dunbar-
ton read an interesting paper, prepared
hastily, but with great good taste and
judgment, on the sepulchral records of
Dunbarton. A copy was requested for
the Hist. Colls, of the Society.

Wm. A. Wallace, Esq., gave some ac-
count of his endeavors towards a history
of Canaan, a considerable part of the ear-
ly history being already in manuscript.
Mr. W. was appointed to read a paper on
the subject at the next annual meeting.
Col. L. W. Cogswell was appointed to
present a paper at the same time on the
sepulchral records of Henniker, and Rob-

ert Ford to collect the entire list of in-
scriptions in Danbury. Also to copy the
records of the first church in Danbury,
now extinct. Mr. Wallace presented

valuable donations to the museum and
library of matters relating to the history
of Canaan.

The President read a paper on the life
and character of Richard Potter, pub-
lished in this number of the Granite
Monthly.

Col. Cogswell presented appropriate
resolutions on the death uf Dr. Bouton,
an honorary member, which were adopt-
ed.

The Society elected Rev. Silas Ketch-
urn, President; Capt. G. A. Curtice and
S. L. Fletcher, Esq., Vice Presidents;
John F. Jones, Esq., Treasurer; Charles
Gould, Esq., Recording Secretary; Wal-
ter Scott Davis, Esq., Corresponding
Secretary ; Geo. H. Ketchum, Curator ;
D. C. Blanchard, Rev. Silas Ketchum,
Col. L. W. Cogswell, Wm. A. Wallace,
Esq., Wm. H. Stinson, Esq., S. L.
Fletcher, Esq., Wm. M. Chase, Esq.,
Historical Committee.

The Society acknowledges the receipt
of valuable additions during the year, be-
sides those above referred to, front Col.
Albert H. Hoyt of Cincinnati, O., Gen.
Wm. S. Striker of New Jersey, Dr. Sam-
uel A. Green of Boston, Hon. Clark Jill-
son of Worcester, Elijah Bingham, Esq.,
of Cleveland, O., the Mass. Hist. Soc,
N. E. Historic Gen. Soc, Worcester So-
ciety of Antiquity, the Essex Institute,
Gov. Prescott and others.

The Society has published during the
year A Diary of the Invasion of Canada,
edited with notes by Rev. Silas Ketch-
um, and A List of the Centenarians of
New Hampshire who have deceased since
1705, by D. F. Secomb.

THE

GKANITE MONTHLY.

A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, HISTORY AND
STATE PROGRESS.

VOL. II.

OCTOBER, 1878.

NO. 3.

WILLIAM J. COPELAND.

In previous numbers of the Granite
Monthly there have been presented
sketches of representative men of New
Hampshire, in business, and public and
professionanal life, with accompanying
portraits. Herewith we give a short
biographical notice, with portrait, of a
well known lawyer, who, although not
an actual resident of the State, is a mem-
ber of the Strafford County bar, and ex-
tensively engaged in practice in this and
other counties of eastern New Hamp-
shire, as well as in the State of Maine.

William J. Copeland is a son of
Rev. William H. Copeland, a Baptist
clergyman, yet living and a resident of
Lebanon, Me. He was born in Albion.
Kennebec County, Me., Jan. 24, 1841,
being now in his thirty-eighth year.
The Copeland family trace their ancestry
to Sir John Copeland, who fought at the
battle of Neville's Cross, under Edward
III., October 17, 1346, and with his own
hand captured King David of Scotland,
whom he bore from the field with a com-
pany of attendants, and, proceeding to
Calais, delivered him into the hands of
his royal master, then in France. For
this service he was created a banneret bv

the king, and given a pension of five hun-
dred pounds per annum. He was also
made Warden of Berwick, Sheriff of
Northumberland and Keeper of Rox-
burgh Castle. Lawrence Copeland, a
lineal descendant of Sir John, from
whom sprang all the Copelands in Amer-
ica, came to this country and settled at
Mount Holliston, Mass.. where he died
December 30. 1699, aged 110 years. Mo-
ses Copeland, a great-grandson of Law-
rence, and from whom William J., the
subject of our sketch, is a direct descend-
ant in the fifth generation, went with his
brother Joseph from Milton, Mass.. to
Warren, Me., in 1763. being among the
early settlers of that place. He was a
man of great activity, shrewd and calcu
lating, and gained wealth and distinc-
tion, taking a prominent part in the en-
terprises of the town. In early life he
had served in the army, eutering at sev-
enteen, under Capt. Boice ; was at Ticou-
deroga in 1758, and at the taking of Que-
bec the following year. Soon after his
settlement in Warren he was appointed
sheriff, and held the office eleven years.
He also held the office of crier of the
court several years. From constant con-

WILLIAM J. COPELAND.

tact with lawyers and observation of
legal proceedings he gained a good
knowlege of the law, and finally became
the principal lawyer of the place, for, al-
though not educated to the profession,
his practical information and ready
knowledge of human nature rendered his
advice and assistance in legal controver-
sies the most valuable that could be ob-
tained in that region. This Moses Cope-
land was a cousin of President John Ad-
ams, and a grandson of John Alden up-
en the maternal side.

William J. Copeland attended the com-
mon schools in Shapleigh and Berwick,
where his father was then preaching. In
1855 he attended the academy at South
Berwick, and afterwards, for a time, the
West Lebanon and Limerick Academies,
earning the money to defray the neces-
sary expenses by teaching in the winter
and farm labor in the summer, teaching
his first school, at Shapleigh, before he
was sixteen years of age. Having a

strong inclination toward the legal pro-
fession, he entered the office of Hon. In-
crease S. Kimball of Sanford, Me., at an
early age, where he pursued the study of
the law until he was admitted to the bar,
which was before he was twenty-one
years of age. He then located in Presque
Isle, Aroostook County, where he en-
tered upon the practice of his profession,
remaining there until April, 1868, when
he removed to Berwick, opposite Great
Falls, where he has since resided, having
established his office at the latter place.
During the past ten years in which he
has been in practice at Great Falls, it is
safe to say Mr. Copeland has attained a
degree of success in his profession sel-
dom equalled and never surpassed by
any practitioner in the country outside
the great cities. This is attributable, it
may fairly be presumed, to his indomita-
ble energy, intense application and thor-
rough devotion to his professional work.
With powers of physical endurance far

WILLIAM J. COPELAND.

greater than those with which most men
are endowed, with a keen insight into hu-
man nature, and a strong love for the
contests of the legal arena, he has the
ability to command success in cases
where others would see only failure from
the start. Without any of the graces of
oratory, he exercises, nevertheless, a
wonderful power over the jury, through
his ready perception of their individual
characteristics, enabling him to appeal
directly to their understanding and judg-
ment, and the earnestness with which he
enters into the case, carrying as it does
the appearance of a settled conviction of
the justice ol his cause.

In a description of Mr. Copeland's
phrenological character, recently writ-
ten out by Prof. O. S. Fowler, that dis-
tinguished phrenologist says: " Power\s
your predominant characteristic, and
much greater than I often find it. It ap-
pertains to your constitution, intellect,
will and whole character, so that you
have brought and will bring more to pass
than any one man in thousands who
started evenly with you. This comes
from the predominance of your muscu-
lar system, whieh renders your mental
operations remarkably virile and effec-
tive, to which you superadd great mem-
ory, especially of facts, faces and places.
Are pre-eminently adapted to the study
and practice of law. Can be a public
man and leader. Are remarkable for
looking right into and through things at
a glance, and particularly sagacious in
spelling out men."

As has been stated, Mr. Copeland has
a large practice at the Strafford County
bar, being engaged, upon one side or the
other, in a great proportion of all the
cases coming to trial in the county. In
Carroll County, also, he has been exten-
sively engaged, having been retained in
most of the important cases tried there
for several years past, prominent among
which was the famous Buzzell murder
case, wherein he secured the acquital of
the respondent upon his first trial, in

May, 1875, though he was subsequently
tried and convicted of the statutory
crime of "hiring and procuring" the
murder. In the management of this case,
especially at the first trial, Mr. Copeland
displayed his remarkable powers to the
best possible advantage, manifesting a
force of character, command of resources
and influence over men seldom shown.
His services have also been called into
requisition at the Rockingham and Bel-
knap County courts, while his practice
in Maine even exceeds that in this State.
As few men are able to accomplish as
much professional labor as Mr. Cope-
land, there are few who receive so large
an income therelrom — certainly not more
than one or two in this State— and should
he continue to devote himself exclusive-
ly to his profession for the next ten
years, he will have gained not only a re-
markable reputation for professional suc-
cess, but material wealth fully commen-
surate therewith.

Mr. Copeland married, in March, 1862,
Miss Ellen L. Wade, youngest daughter
of Loring and Sarah (Foster) Wade, for-
merly of Machias. Maine, and a grand-
daughter of Col. Benjamin Foster, Jr..
of Machias, prominent in the early his-
tory of that town. By this union he has
had three children, all daughters, two of
whom are living— Mabelle. born April
10, 1864, and Kate, January 13, 1867.
His home is one of the finest and most
elegant residences in that section, the
abode of comfort and domestic enjoy-
ment, and his few leisure hours, here
passed, are not without their happy in-
fluence upon his busy and earnest life.

In politics he has always been a Re-
publican, but has never held office, or
engaged in political life beyond the man-
ifestation of decided opposition to what
is generally known as the '■ machine" in
party management, until during the re-
cent campaign in Maine, when he es-
poused the cause of the new National
Greenback party, and made several ef-
fective speeches upon the stump.

A DAY AT OLD KITTERY

A BAT AT OLD KITTERY.

BY FRED MYRON COLBY.

Two distinct and breathing worlds lie
open for the sojourner in this fleeting
life; the world of the present and the
world of the past. Those who love the
present derive most enjoyment in visiting-
great cities and centres of fashion, pic-
ture galleries, and splendid libraries.
They are enraptured by the pageantry
and grandeur of imperial palaces, the
giitter and show of courtly ceremonies,
and all the gay dissipations of fashiona-
ble life. The devotees of the pust prefer
racher to dream away the hours on the
spot where great meu fought for a wor-
thy cause, or linger among the ruined
halls of greatness. The eloquent voices
of enother age, though only in imagina-
tion, speak greater truths to them than
the loudest ntterances of the present.

To those who possess this secset, Kit-
tery Point, in Maine, possesses many
points of deep interest. Whittier, in his
sweet verse, has often mentionrd some of
them, yet the traveller has to carefully
seek for them, for like Hamlet, they
dread to be " too much i' the sun." Once
found, however, and they reward the ex-
plorer with suggestive and noble pictures
of the past. In an article like this, too
little space is granted for more than a
brief mention of its chief attractions.

Kittery lies' opposite to Portsmouth,
the Piscataqua river flowing between,
and the visitor to the latter place usually
visits the former. You cross by a long
bridge set upon piles, where the water is
more than thirty feet deep. On either
hand lies the loveliest scenery in New
Hampshire. Blue as the interior of a
hare-bell the broad, romantic river, sanc-
tified by John Smiths wanderings and
Whittier's lays, flows southward to the
sea, which you can discern in the dis-
tance through the soft violet haze. Be-
hind you lies Portsmouth, its spires ris-
ing in the air ; old Fort Constitution tow-

ers at your right, seaward are White Isl-
and, Boar Island, Great Island, and
Whale's Back, the whole coast clothed
with villages as far as the eye can reach.
Fronting you is the famous navy yard,
with its arsenals and its shop-houses. A
long undulating highway runs in a sinu-
ous line before the eye, hedged in by
green orchards and clustering farm-hou-
ses, reminding the English traveller of
those emerald lanes that lead down into
Kent and Sussex. Three miles on you
view a little hamlet, the spire of a small
church rising above the roofs, and near-
er you behold mouldering old docks upon
which boys sit with their feet over the
water, fishing. Groups of sail boats and
fishing schooners ride in the harbor,
their broad white sails flapping listlessly
in the breeze. This is the outline of the
scene that is spread before you.

There is a suggestion of the antique,
and of quiet decay in the general aspect
of the town. The stranger is reminded
by a hundred evidences that he is look-
ing upon the seat of past prosperity and
vanished splendor. Distinct and widely
separated indeed is the present with its
quiet, half mournful life, and that famous
past when Kittery was a commercial and
social centre, when the activity of trade
made it a new world Tyre, and ships
sailed from its decks to India and the
Southern seas — ships that circumnaviga-
ted the globe.

On the whole Atlantic coast there is no
better harbor than that afforded by the
widening of the Piscataqua below Ports-
mouth and Kittery, and in the colonial
period it was a great channel of com-
merce. At Kittery and Portsmouth were
mercantile centres which vied with Sa-
lem and Boston, Newport and New York.
Some of their merchants had a hundred
veesels at their command, engaged in
commerce and fisheries, and largh trad

A DAY AT OLD KITTERY

ing parties were ever coming in on land
from the lands of the Abenequis, the
Coos, and the St. Francis. Gay and ro-
mantic must have been those expeditions
into the summer forest; the encounters
with Indians, half-breeds and squaws ;
the wild adventures, and the return to
the populous towns. Those were the
golden days of Portsmouth and Battery.
It is delightful to lounge about the old
worm-eaten wharves on the sunny after-
noons. There is a fascinating air of
dreams and idleness about the place
which is very soothing. Very little busi-
ness is transacted here now-a-days.
Three or four barges laden with coal,
and a few schooners bearing the valuable
produce of the Maine forests, with here
and there a fishing smack, constitutes
about the whole of its commercial pros-
perity. In the great nany yard there is
comparative quiet. Only now and then
is there a vessel launched from the stocks.
It is only by a great effort that you can
imagine all the past glory of the old
maritime town — its merchants as rich as
princes and almost as powerful, its large,
noisy ship-yards, its huge warehouses
stocked with merchandise jrom all parts
of the world, its numerous fleets going
and coming to and from China, the In-
dies, and the Mediterranean.

Before leaving the river side we must
say a few more words about the navy
yard. It contains an area of nearly six-
ty-five acres. Permanent gray walls of
dimension split granite enclose it on all
sides. There is every convenience and
facility for constructing the largest class
of government ships. The water at the
wharves is of sufficient depth to float the
largest man-of-war at the lowest tide.
Three large ship-houses, seven large tim-
ber sheds, a mast house, and a rigging
house, machine shops, and wood shops
on the most extensive and improved
plans pertain to the yard. There is a
floating dry-dock for the repair of ships,
which cost nearly a million of dollars.
It is three hundred and fifty feet in
length, one hundred and fifteen in width,
and thirty-eight feet in height. The
quarters for officers and men are not ex-
celled by those of any naval station in
the country. Some over five hundred

hands are usually employed in the yard.
As pe pass up-town, through the his-
torically famous streets, we have time to
more leisurely notice the architecture of
the buildings. Most of the houses are
modern, but among them are now and
then seen a more ancient type of dwell-
ing — relics of the revolutionary epoch.
Their quaint, small paned windows, am-
ple door porches, glittering brass knock-
ers, and enormous chimneys are at once
old fashioned and suggestive. One
could, gazing at these antique houses,
almost fancy that from them would issue
gentlemen of colonial days, dressed in
knee breeches, silken stockings, plum
colored coats, cocked hats, and silver
buckles. Every one of these houses has
its treasere of tradition, and if allowed
io speak could tell rare tales of auld lang
syne. There is one great mansion which
we cannot summarily dismiss with a pass-
ing notice, for though curtailed some-
what of its fair proportions, it is still the
object of frequent pilgrimages toKittery
Point. We refer to the old Pepperell
House, built one hundred and ninety
years ago, which has seen more of splen-
dor and sheltered more famous individu-
als than any other private residence en
this side of the sea.

The house was built by the first Wil-
liam Pepperell, the great merchant and
ship-builder of his time. He accumulat-
ed vast wealth by trade, and his mansion
reflected the boundlessness of his means.
Grand as any old English castle, it stood
looking aut to sea, girt by a great park
where droves of deer sported. His son,
the famous Sir William Pepperell, en-
larged and adorned it at the time of his
marriage in 1734. This Lord Pepperell,
the only American baronet after Sir Wil-
liam Phipps, was a remarkable man. He
was the richest merchant in the colonies,
and had at times two hundred ship at
sea. His success at Louisburg proved
him a skillful general, and his political
influence was second to that of no man's
in ihe oolonies. The style he lived in re-
called the Feudal magnificence of the
great barons. The walls of his great
mansion were adorned with rich carv-
ings, splendid mirrors, and costly paint-
ings. In his side-board glittered heavy

A DAY AT OLD KITTERY.

silver plate and rare old China. Wine a
hundred years old from the delicate, spi-
cy brands of Rhineland to the fiery Tus-
can, was in his cellars. He kept a coach
with six white horses. A retinue of
slaves and hired menials looked to hiui as
their lord, and he had a barge upon the
river, in which he was rowed by a crew
of Africans m gaudy uniforms. The on-
ly man in all the colonies worth two
hundred thousand pounds sterling, reign-
ing grandly over grand estates, for, like
an English peer, he might have travelled
all day long upon his own lands, sove-
reign lord, in fact, if not in name, of
more than five hundred thousand acres —
timber, plain and valley, in New Hamp-
shire and Maine — Sir William Pepperell
could do this and yet not live beyond his
means.

The memory of all this baronial mag-
nificence fills the mind as you stand be-
fore the old mansion where he lived, or
at the Knight's tomb in the orchard
across the road, a few hundred yards
from the goodly residence that he built.
Faded is the escutcheon on the marble
tombstone. p curtailed of its fair propor-
tions, and sadly decayed is the grand old
mansion, but they recall visions of splen-
dor still. The house looks down from its
three story grandeur with scorn upon its
humble and more modern neighbors, and
well it may. Its experiences have been
unique. British Admirals, belted Earls,
grave statesmen, and the noblest chivalry
of the old and the new world have abode
under its roof. Its master was one of
the most brilliant personages of his gen-
eration : and although the famous men
who came after him, Langdon, Washing-
ton, Adams, Franklin and Livingston,
with many others — figured in greater
ovents, still the name and memory of Sir
William Pepperell are well nigh as fa-
mous as those of the Dii majous of our
history.

Half a mile to the West is another fa-
mous old mansion, the Sparhawk House,
built by Lord Pepperell in 1741, for his
daughter, who married Col. Sparhawk.
This structure is in better repair than the
other, and is one of the stateliest houses
of that age in America. Its great parlor
is thirty by twenty feet, and very high

posted. The other rooms are smaller
but stately. The orginal paper remains
on the walls of the wide hall, as do the
deer antlers above the doors. The ob-
servatory upon the roof affords a fine
view of the surrounding country. A no-
ble avenue of elms, a quarter of a mile
in length, formerly led from the street to
the door. The trees were about one rod
apart. The perspective effect of this
grand avenue must have been peculiarly
graceful and impressive. Some vandal
, cut down the trees twenty-five years ago.
But no one can destroy the beauty of the
noble site on which the mansion stands.
James T. Fields has lately endeavored,
among others, to purchase it for a sum-
mer residence.

We pass from the atmosphere of these
ancient structures once more into the
light and life of the sea-port town. A
change has taken place during eur ab-
sence among the memories of the past.
For the first time, Ave are reminded of
the fact that Kittery has claims as a pop-
ular summer resort. Yes, the old town
has Rip Van Winkled into life again, ac-
quiring fresh fame in its new dignity. It
is now four o'clock in the afternoon, and
the quaint streets have become a sort of
Hyde Park. Fxuestrians and carriages
dash thither and hither, making a pleas-
ant and brilliant promenade. The friends
who breakfasted togethe.r a few hours be-
fore, have now the satisfaction to bow to
each other from barouches or from the
saddle. The lovely ladies who wore
bowling costumes this morning, wear
driving costumes this afternoon, and to-
night they will flaunt gaudy ball-room
attire. How they smile and bow ! How
the ribbons flutter and the gloves glitter !
The air is soft and mild. The music from
a brass band chimes pleasantly on the
ear. Over all shines the warm sun, from
a spotless sky.

But all this bustle and gaiety and splen-
dor is far apart from the life of the town.
It preserves its indomitable repose des-
pite the fury of the brief summer episode
of excitement around it with a smile of
scorn as it were. For one short month
the saturnalia of fashion reels along its
wide beach, and holds high festival in
the very heart of its quaintness, but dur-

TRAVELING ACCOMMODATIONS IN HOPKINTON.

ing the rest of the year the old town do-
zes silently upon the water and dreams
of its great days departed.

The last spot we visited was the an-
cient grave-yard, — a fitting finale of this
brief sojourn. As the grave closes the
mortal career of man, so we chose that
this cemetery should be the end of this
day's scene of active, varied, picturesque
transitions. Verily a good place to for-
get the vanities of this life. The old
grave-yard itself is dead. Pomp, pride,
ambition, and even grief itself are all at
an end. Black slate headstones and the
costlier maible monument, stand in a ru-
inous state side by side. Noble dust
slumbers beneath the sod, and once in a
while we can decipher an ancient crest
or the name of some colonial magnate.

" History numbers here
Some names and scenes to long remembrance

dear,
And summer verdure clothes the lonely breast,
Of the small hillock where our fathei-s rest.

Theirs was the dauntless heart, the hand, the

voice,
That bade the desert blossom and rejoice."

We wish we could have lingered long-
er within its sacred precincts. It is good
for man sometimes to forget the things
of this life, and to realize the common
fate of all mankind. And these old cem-
eteries have charms yf their own. Both
the ethical and the historical faculties are
aroused as well as the spiritual in the
contemplation of such burying-grounds.
Among all our old cities places of similar
historic interest are found. Translate
these localities north of the White Mount-
ains and how many annual pilgrimages
they would receive. So long as they re-
main within a pleasant foot ramble they
are rarely visited, but if the circumstanc
transpired that we suggested, those local-
ities would be designated by some endur-
ing monument, and a pebble from the soil
would be treasured as a mantel curiosity.

TRAVELING ACCOMMODATIONS IN HOPKINTON.

BY C. C. LORD.

HIGHWAYS.

Roads are generally constructed in ful-
filment of the immediate wants of the
existing community. The first roads in
Hopkinton were laid out to suit the then
present condition of things. One of the
earliest acts of the proprietors was to
take measures for establishing needed
roads. On the 14th of February, 1737, a
a vote was passed appropriating twenty
pounds for clearing a road from Rum-
ford (now Concord) to the centre of the
new township, and to be used in con-
structing roads north and south to the
extent the appropriation would allow.
On the 13th of May it was enacted that
the money appropriated for clearing
roads be collected by the first of July.
On the 20th of December a sum of forty-
four pounds, accumulated in the treas-
ury, was appropriated for the clearing
of the road to Rumford. Dea. Henry

Mellen, Daniel Claflin, John Jones and
John Brewer were made a committee to
confer with the selectmen of Rumford
in reference to the proposed road. On
March 29, 1738, it was voted that the
money granted to clear the road should
be assessed in the following May, show-
ing that a previous vote to collect had
not as yet been fulfilled. One the 30th
of September of the same year, it was
voted that a road be constructed from
Rumford line to the meeting-house spot or
place; also from Meeting-House Hill
west to Contoocook river ; also a road
on the east side, to accommodate lots;
also from the meeting-house place to the
Great Meadow, so called ; and from the
meeting-house to the township north.

The first roads were merely paths
traced through the native wilderness.
As population and occupation increased,
fences and walls became in demand.

TRAVELING ACCOMMODATION'S IN" HOPKINTON.

Roads and attendant accommodations
were multiplied with the growth of the
local settlement. On May 12, 1766, it
was voted to build a boat in the Con-
toocook river, said boat to be as large as
Deacon Merrill's boat in Concord, for the
accommodation of people passing be-
tween Hopkinton and New Auiesbury
(now Warner). On March 2, 1772, a
vote was passed appropriating thirty
pounds in labor for the construction of
a bridge across the Contoocook.

The increasing need of facile inter-
communication between more distant lo-
calities at length led to the establish-
ment of better public thoroughfares. In
1805 the present communication between
the two villages was established, by
building the road from Putney's Hill to
the meeting-house, relieving people of
the necessity of climbing the southern
brow of the hill or taking the easterly
route leaving the lower village just north
of the blacksmith shop of Horace Ed-
munds, and thence running to a point
just west of the house of S. B. Gage,
where it connected with the present
highway at this spot. In 1815 the road
known as the "turnpike" was con-
structed. It was a main line to Con-
cord, avoiding the toilsome Dimond Hill
road on the east. In 1827 the so-called
"■new road" from Hopkinton village to
Dunbarton was built. This was to ac-
commodate a public stage route between
Boston and Hanover, which, south of
Hopkintontooka westerly direction. The
well known Basset Mill road was con-
structed in 1836. The so-called " new
road" to Concord was built about 1841.
This was also in accommodation of a
stage route between Hopkinton and Con-
cord and more distant points.

HOTELS.

Among the first taverners in Hopkin-
ton were Benjamin Wigginand Theophi-
lis Stanley. Several persons quite early
were engaged in hotel keeping on the
site of the old Perkins House. The most
notable of these earliest landlords was
Mr. Wiggin, who was justice, postmas-
ter and trader also. He came to this
town from Stratham, N. H., and became
established as a landlord as early as 1774,
which date was inscribed upon his old-

fashioned swinging sign-board, one-half
in each upper corner. On the bottom of
this sign-board was the significant an-
nouncement, " Entertainment by B. W."
This sign-board also bore a painted rep-
resentation of a man on horseback fol-
lowed by two dogs. Never were worse
proportions delineated. The man's waist
was shrunk up to comparative nothing-
ness, while his lower extremities en-
larged into feet of enormous proportions.
Benjamin Wiggin's hotel is still stand-
ing, being the house next westerly to the
Episcopal Church. In front of this situ-
ation the Rev. Mr. Cram, the third min-
ister in town, was ordained out of doors
in the month of February. A reception
was given to General Lafayette in the
same place, on his visit to this country in
1824. Mr. Wiggin died in 1822. He was
a man of much public spirit and social
generosity. After his death the tavern
stand was sold to Benjamin Greenleaf of
Salisbury, N. H. Subsequently it has
passed through various hands.

Capt. Birnsley Perkins' tavern was for
many years a hotel par excellence. It
was the grand hotel of all this region.
It stood on the site of the late remodeled
" Perkins House." In the days of its
highest prosperity there were three lines
of stages passing through the town.
Hopkinton was then one of the shire
towns of old Hillsborough county, and
for a time the capital of the State. Here
came the old legislators — John Langdon,
John Sullivan, Daniel and Ezekiel Web-
ster, and a host of others. Great times
were seen here on public days. The best
fare was always to be had. Although
Capt. Perkins was the most noted ruler
of this house, he was. not. its first land-
lord. Public house was kept here by
several persons previous to him. It is
not definitely known to us when the
tavern was erected, but once a piece of
plaster fell from a wall, reveling the
date 1786 on the lathing. When the old
meeting house was burned in 1789, it
was kept by a Mr. Babson. Subsequent
to the burning a town meeting was called
at this tavern, and the gathering being
large, it was adjourned '• to Mr. Babson's
barn yard," where important business
was transacted. Being the principal

TRAVELING ACCOMMODATIONS IN HOPKINTON.

public house in this part of the town,
and the natural resort of most all trav-
eling characters and enterprises, its
patronage was of an incongruous nature,
including statesmen, lawyers, transient
travelers, teamsters, show-men. etc.
Captain Perkins opened this house in
1811, was landlord about forty years, and
died on the premises in 1856.

For many years this ancient house
was closed to the public. The innova-
tion of railroads turned the course of
travel • and shut off patronage. But
times revived a few years ago, when the
"Perkins House" passed under the man-
agement of Mr. D. B. Story, who kept it
open until its destruction by fire in Octo-
ber 1872. During Mr. Story's conduct of
the establishment, it underwent impor-
tant repairs and was largely patronized
by summer boarders. It was also a re-
sort for winter sleighing and dancing
parties from Concord. Its loss was a
great misfortune, both on account of its
historic memories and business advan-
tages.

Elder Joseph Putney's tavern stood on
the highest point of road between the
two villages in town, on the site now oc-
cupied by the house of Mr. Charles Put-
nam. It was part of a large farming es-
tablishment and was patronized by the
more lowly among travelers. To obtain
a clearer idea of life in a public accom-
modation like Elder Putney's we must
understand a feature of ancient travel
which was more or less exhibited in or
round all country inns. In the olden
time all freight was of course carried
through the country on wheels and run-
ners and in many instances by the own-
ers themselves. Teamsters were often
inclined to indulge only the most econo-
mical fare. When teams large and small
put up for the night, the drivers often
brought their own provisions, thereby
saving all expenditures except for lodg-
ings, grog and hay. It was a pictur-
esque sight when a large company of
travelers gathered around the open fire,
and refreshed themselves each from his
own box of edibles. Elder Putney was
particularly hospitable to his guests, al-
ways furnishing them with plenty of
cider for nothing. His supply of winter

apples was just as free. The average
patronage of a house like Elder Put-
ney's would surprise the modern enquir-
er. The number of horses and men requir-
ed to transport freights was large, and the
accumulation of small teams swelled the
road travel immensely. Mr. Putney was
a man of remarkable generosity and in-
tegrity. His temperament was strongly
religious, impelling him to officiate pub-
licly in the school house close to his
home. From this fact it is probable he
received the universal title of "Elder."
Upon the death of his wife he abandon-
ed public hospitalities. He died Sept. 20,
1846. aged 93. He was a soldier of the
Revolution.

The first public house in Contoocook
stood on the site of Curtis & Stevens's
present store, which is a part of the ori-
ginal structure, since remodeled. At
first there was a plain, one-storied, un-
gainly building; opened to the public by
Daniel Page. When the later Central
House was first projected the idea of the
necessity of competition first entered in-
to the mind of the proprietor of the old
hotel, and an extra story was added.
Not far from this time Mr. Page sold out
the stand to his sister Susan, afterwards
the wife of Simeon Tyler, who lived in
the district known as Tyler's Bridge.
Miss Page was sadly unfortunate in the
ultimate of her proprietorship. She sold
the house for railroad stock and lost it
all. The stand ceased to be open to the
public about the year 1834.

The second hotel built in this village
was erected in the autumn of the year
1831, by Messrs. Sleeper & Wheeler.
Both landlords were young men. The
enterprise did not flourish in their hands,
and in about a year the property went
into the hands of Mr. Herrrick Putnam,
who kept the doors open for about a
dozen years. Mr. Putnam was followed
by Mr. Rufus Fuller, of Bradford, who
conducted the establishment till about
twelve years later, when he died. For
years the place was kept by Henry
Fuller, son of Rufus, and afterwards by
Mr. Walcot Blodget, son-in law of the
older Mr. Fuller. It changed hands
frequently till 1872 when it fell into the
possession of Col. E. C. Bailey, who

TRAVELING ACCOMMODATIONS IN HOPKINTON.

kept it open till 1878, when he tore it
down and erected just east of
it the present hotel.

The Putney House in Hopkinton vil
lage was built to supply the place of the
Perkins House, burnt in 1872. In the
summer of that year Mr. Geo. G. Bailey
determined to make Hopkinton village
a place of residence, bought the old
Isaac Long place and fitted it up for the
convenience of his family during the hot
months. A year or two after, he pur-
chased the old Dr. Wells house, adjoin-
ing the Long place, moved it back, es-
tablished connection between the two,
and made the present Putney House, a
nice and convenient hotel in a pleasant
shady spot. The structure includes two
stories with a Mansard roof. The com-
plete establishment has a front exten-
sion of 125 feet and a rear one of 190.
Since the erection of this house an ele-
gant hall, a bowling alley and other ad-
ditions have been constructed.

The old Parker Pearson stand at
"Stumpfield" and French's Tavern, now
burned, on the Basset Mill road, at
•'Sugar Hill," were instances of smaller
country establishments for the accom-
modation of the traveling public.

THE RAILROAD.

A little over a quarter of a century
ago a stranger came to Contoocook, and
lectured in the small hall in the rear
projection of the Contoocook House, in
the attempt to illustrate the feasibility of
steam locomotion. He had a small en-
gine, for which he laid a narrow track
across the hall, and actually conveyed
himself back and forth to the observa-
tion of the interested audience. Heads
were shaken when he predicted that in
twenty years freight would be brought
to this vi llage by steam power plying

the rails. Yet in less time the prophecy
became true. The Concord & Claremont
Railroad was projected; the line passed
through Contoocook, from which there
was also a branch line to Hillsborough
Bridge. In the early fall of the year
1850 the cars began to run regularly
to this village. A day of great festivity
was held. The railroad officials extend-
ed the favor of a free ride to and from
the city of Concord. The proffered cour-
tesy was accepted by a large company,
filling a long train.

The people of Contoocook determined
to be liberal in furnishing the festivities.
A subscription was raised, a public din-
ner provided, music and artillery secur-
ed. About one thousand persons sat
down to eat. The food was set upon a
row of tables at the station, a shed hav-
ing been erected for their accommoda-
tion. About fifteen members of the
Warner artillery came with a gun and
music to do the military honors. The
gun was posted on the intervale on the
north side of the river just below the
railroad bridge, towards which spot a
signal was given when to fire. Speeches
were made, the band played, the can-
non thundered. It was indeed a gala
occasion. The pecuniary expense of the
dinner eaten on this occasion amounted
to #200.

Many citizens of Contoocook, as well
as others of the town, paid dearly for
their enthusiasm and enjoyment. Assess-
ments on primitive stock did the work.
To get rid of the personal liabilities
many threw up their whole interests, in
some instances amounting to thousands
of dollars. Yet the public benefits
afforded by railroad facilities have been
entirely incalculable.

MIRON.'' 16

" MIRON."

BY MISS CARRIE A. SPALDING.

[This poem, written for the occasion, was read at the recent silver wedding of " Miron," (Myron
J. Bazeltine), well known in the world of chess, at his beautiful home known as " The Larches," in
the town of Thornton. It was published in a New York paper, but is worthy of republication
in the Granite Monthly. The author, Miss Spalding of Haverhill, is a young lady of fine liter-
ary talent, whose productions have been much admired.]

In other realms, where kings and queens bear sway.
Their subjects have no will but to obey :
To every mandate, howsoe'er unjust,
They bow in silence — since, forsooth, they must!
But lo ! a change in our progressive land —
We see a man who can all kings command ;
Queens move submissive at his sovereign will,
Or, as his word directs, in turn stand still.

The moss-grown castles far beyond the sea
For ages yet to come unmoved may be ;
The ivy clambers o'er the turrets high,
The arches echo as in years gone by ;
But this enchanter of the modern times
Brings back the wonders of Arabian climes,
Takes up the Castles as " a little thing,"
And moves them without aid from lamp or ring.
The knights of old, mounted on prancing steed.
Who fearless sought each brave and daring deed.
Bowed only to the will of lady fair —
No other ruler would they deign to bear ;
Behold the change! these craven, soulless men
Retreat, advance, and then retreat again ;
The lightest touch, the softest, swiftest word.
Holds them in check as soon as it is heard.

Bishops, who in the sacred chancel stand,
Arrayed in flowing surplice, gown and band,
While at their feet a kneeling, prayerful crowd.
In true devotion, to the earth is bowed,
Aside their litany and prayer-book lay —
One " not in orders " they at last obey ;
Across the checkered path they move with speed,
And neither ritual nor canon heed.

Not often do the gods such power bestow

On common mortals in the world below;

To hold at will, through all its changing scenes

Pawns, Knights and Castles, Bishops, Kings and Queens.

But, lest this privilege should foster pride,

To share the honors and the spoils divide,

They also sent a " help-meet," skilled no less

In realms of poesy and fields of Chess.

FOREST VEGETATION IN NEW HAMPSHIRE.

And now, upon this merry, festal day,
The silver milestone of the earthward way,
I, too, would add my wishes most sincere,
For richer blessings in each coming year;
And when the " game of life '' at last is done.
Each foeman vanquished and each victory won,
May these dear friends, resigning earthly things,
Be crowned with glory by the "' King of Kings."

FOREST VEGETATION IN NEW HAMPSHIRE.
[From the Report upon Forrestry, Department of Agriculture, for 1877.]

The whole State was originally cov-
ered with a dense forest growth, the prin-
cipal kinds of timber being pines,
spruces, oaks, and hickories, beech,
chestnut, white, red and sugar maples,
butternut, birches, elm, white and black
ashes, basswood, and poplars. A strik-
ing contrast is shown in the aspect of
the northern and southern portions of
the State, caused by differences of tem-
perature due to altitude, the transition
being gradual, some species becoming
scarce, and finally disappearing, while
others first appearing in small numbers
increase as we go north or south until
they may become the prevailing kinds.
A few species occur throughout the en-
tire State. A line drawn from North
Conway to Lake Winnipiseogee, and
from thence to Hanover, would some-
what distinctly divide the northern from
the southern types. This transition area
would be at an elevation of about 600
feet above" tide, corresponding with the
annual mean of 45°, or of 20 p in winter
and 65° in the summer mouths.

Among the species characteristic of the
more southern type, which here find
their northern limit may be mentioned
the chestnut, white oak, spoon-wood or
mountain laurel, and frost-grape. The
range of pines and walnuts, of white or
river maple, red oak and hemlock, is also
mainly southern. The more character-
istic trees of the northern class are the
sugar-maple, beech, balsam-fir, black
and white spruce, and arbor-vitae, and of
smaller trees the mountain ash and strip-

ed maple. Of these the white spruce and
arbor-vitae have the most limited range.
The former is abundant about Connecti-
cut Lake, but occurs rarely, if at all.
South' of Colebrook. The latter ( Thuja
Occidentalis) , is also common in this sec-
tion, extending south to the vicinity of
the White Mountains, and is also occa-
sionally found in highland swamps far-
ther south.

The pine family forms the most impor-
tant feature of the landscape, and has
been an important source of wealth to
the State. The white pine originally
filled all the river valleys with a heavy
growth, extending along that of the Con-
necticut to the northern boundary. ■ This
growth has now nearly disappeared be-
fore the lumberman's ax, but the great
abundance of saplings in the southern
part of the State shows that this species
is still the principal conifer of that sec-
tion. Passing northward into Coos Coun-
ty, we find the white pine much restricted
in area, occurring mostly at the headwa-
ters of the streams, and mainly confined
to the first-growth specimens, saplings
being of rare occurrence, even where the
land is allowed to return to forest after
clearing.

The pitch and red pines are of more
limited range, the former (P. rigida) oc-
curring most along the sandy plains and
drift knolls of the river vallevs, scarcely
growing on hills that attain much eleva-
tion above the sea level. It is found
most abundantly in the southeastern
part of the State, and in the Merrimack

FOREST VEGETATION LN NEW HAMPSHIRE.

Valley and around Lakes Winnipiseogee
and Ossipee, extending northward as fax-
as North Conway. In the Connecticut
Valley it appears less abundantly. The
red pine (P. resinosa), often called " Nor-
way pine," " is the most social of the
pine genus. " occurring in groups of from
a few individuals to groves containing
several acres. Although much iess com-
mon, its range is about the same as that
of the pitch-pine, probably attaining a
higher elevation above the sea level.
This species is of handsome and rapid
growth, and is well worthy of being
planted for ornament.

In the White Mountain region the bal-
sam-fir and black spruce, growing to-
gether in about equal numbers, give to
the scenery one of its peculiar features.
They are the last of the arborescent veg-
etation to yield to the increased cold and
fierce winds of the higher summits.
North of these mountains, the arbor-
vitae forms the predominant evergreen,
mingled with the white spruce about
Connecticut Lake. In the southern part
they are mostly confined to the high-
lands between the Merrimack and Con-
necticut Rivers, the black spruce being
most abundant.

The hemlock is common in the south-
ern part of the State, ranging most abun-
dantly around the base of the Rocky
Mountains, southward along the high-
lands, becoming less near the coast. Its
northern limit is in the vicinity of Cole-
brook and Umbagog Lake, reaching an
elevation of 1,200 feet above tide.

The tamarack does not enter largely
into the flora of New Hampshire, being
chiefly confined to swamps of small ex-
tent, and ranges along the highlands
from Massachusetts to north of the
White Mountains. The red cedar is
chiefly limited to the sea-shore. The
juniper is sometimes troublesome by
overspreading hilly pastures. The Amer-
ican yew is often present in cold-land
swamps.

The maples are best represented among
deciduous trees. The river maple is most
limited in range, being confined to inter-
vales of the principal streams, and rare-
ly far away from them. The red maple
is common in all parts of the State, and

the sugar-maple is abundant, filling an
important part in the economy of the
State, supplying both timber and sugar.
It is common in most parts, but less to-
wards the sea-coast. This with the beech
makes up tne greater part of the hard
woods of Coos County. Southward the
beech is common on high lands only,
often growing with spruce and hemlock.
Four species of birch are common, of
which the black, yellow and canoe birch-
es have about the same range as the red
maple. The canoe or paper birch grows
high up the sides of mountains. The
fourth and smallest, the white birch, is
most abundant in the southeast part of
the State, affording the " gray-birch
hoop-poles " used in the manufacture of
fish-barrels.

Five or six species of oaks are found,
of which the hardiest is the red oak.
Although the only species found along
the water-shed between the Merrimack
and Connecticut, it does not extend much
beyond the White Mountains, having its
upper limit at about 1000 feet above the
sea. The white and yellow oaks usually
appear together, on the plains and hill-
sides along the rivers. The former ex-
tends northward in the Connecticut Val-
ley nearly to the mouth of the Passump-
sic, in the Merrimack Valley to Ply-
mouth, and in the eastern part of the
State to the vicinity of Ossipee Lake.
Its limit in altitude is about 500 feet
above the sea, which is also very nearly
that of the frost-grape. The barren or
shrub oak is abundant on the pine plains
of the Lower Merrimack Valley, thence
extending eastward to the coast, and to
the sandy plains of Madison and Con-
way. The chestnut oak seems to be
local in this State; at Amherst and West
Ossipee it can be found abundantly.

The chestnut is found in the same situ-
ations as the white oak, but the chestnut
is the first to reach its limit of altitude,
which is about 400 feet above the sea.
It occurs in a few localities about Lake
Winnipiseogee- at a somewhat greater
height, the neighborhood of the lake pro-
ducing less severity of temperature than
the river valleys at the same altitude.

The American elm attains probably the
largest size of any deciduous trees. It

FOREST VEGETATION IN NEW HAMPSHIRE.

grows best in alluvial soil, and is the
most extensively planted for shade and
ornament of all trees, unless, perhaps,
the sugar-maple.

Butternuts also prefer the borders of
streams, and in the valley of the Petni-
gewasset extend northward to the base
of the mountains. Hickories are most
common in the Lower Merrimack Val-
ley, the shell-bark extending northward
to the vicinity of Lake Winnipiseogee.
Basswood is found mostly on the high-
lands, but is not very common. The
black cherry is found throughout the
State, usually most common near
streams. Two species of poplar are com-
mon ; the first a small tree, very common
in light soil, and often springing in great
abundance where woodland has been
cleared away. The other, the black pop-
lar, may be a large tree.

The Hon. Levi Bartlett of New Hamp-
shire has given in the result of his expe-
rience, an interesting illustration of the
profits that might be realized from tree-
planting in this State, covering a period
of about fifty years. A tract had been
cleared and thoroughly burned over in a
very dry season, about the year 1800. It
immediately seeded itself with white and
Norway pines, and about twenty-five
years after came into his possession. He
at once thinned out the growth on about
two acres, taking over half of the small-
est trees, the fuel much more than paying
the expense of clearing off. From that
time nothing was done with the lot for
the next twenty-five years — having sold
it, however, during that time. Upon ex-
amining it he found that, by a careful es-
timate, the lot which had been thinned
was worth at least a third more per acre
than the rest which had been left. It
was worth at that time at least $100 an
acre. He thought that had the land
been judiciously thinned yearly, enough
would have been obtained to have paid
the taxes and interest on the purchase,

above the cost of cutting and drawing
out, besides bringing the whole tract up
to the value of the two acres which had
been thinned out. At the time when
this part was thinned (twenty-five years
from the seed) he took a few of the tall-
est, about eight inches on the stump, and
forty to fifty feet high, and hewed on
one side for rafters for a shed. At the
next twenty-five years (fifty from the
seed) he and the owner estimated that
the trees left on the two acres would av-
erage six or eight feet apart. They were
mostly Norway pine, ten to twenty
inches in diameter, and eighty to a hun-
dred feet high. He was greatly sur-
prised, seven or eight years after, to see
the increase of growth, especially the
two acres thinned thirty years before.
The owner had done nothing, except oc-
casionally cutting a few dead trees. It
was now the opinion of both that the
portion thinned out was worth twice as
much as the other ; not, however, that
there was twice the amount of wood on
the thinned portion, but from the extra
size and length of the trees, and their en-
hanced value for boards, logs and tim-
ber. There were hundreds of Norway
and white pines that could be hewed
or sawed into square timber, from forty
to fifty feet in length, suitable for the
frames of large houses, barns and other
buildings. There were some dead trees
on the two acres thinned at an early day,
but they were only small trees shaded
out by the large ones. On the part left
to nature's thinning there was a vastly
greater number of dead trees — many of
them fallen and nearly worthless. Of
the dead trees standing, cords might be
cut, well dried, and excellent for fuel.
Estimates were made that this woodland
would yield 350 cords of wood, or 150,-
000 feet of lumber per acre. Allowing
that these were too large, the real
amount must have brought a very large
profit on the investment.

A RHAPSODY ON OLD CLOTHES.

A B HAP SOD Y ON OLD CLOTHES.

AY LUCIA MOSES.

In these days of aesthetic raving over
everything old it surprises me that old
clothes receive so little attention. I do
not mean worn out garments, fit only for
the second-hand clothing shop, the rag-
bag or the beggar at your door, but the
partially disused adornments and habits
that you wear on rainy days, when you
know that no callers can venture forth,
or that you pack in your cedar chest as
being capable of further use by some fu-
ture " making over." These superannu-
ated servitors of a deposed queen of fash-
ion are irresistibly fascinating to me by
reason of their garrulity.

I am by nature a quiet body, and by
stress of worldly circumstances an un-
traveled one, but I have my failings as
well as the best, and indulge them when
I can. My especial weakness is a par-
donable fondness for that sort of gossip
known as reminiscences, and happily for
me I learned long ago that by bringing
my imagination into active play I could
gratify my small whim without mental
labor or pecuniary outlay.

There is a cedar-lined closet and chest
I know of, the contents of which have
enabled me to travel from the Golden
Gate to " far Cathay," and revel in op-
era, balls, college life, and '■ love's young
dream." I have crossed the Atlantic by
simply sitting quietly before an old
rough serge dress. It is rugged and tired-
looking, for it has made four sea voy-
ages. As I open the door of the closet
where it hangs, a strong, fresh, salt air
seems to blow in my face; I hear the
wash of the waves ; I feel the breeze on
my cheek. Shining sand from the bay
of Naples shakes from the ruffles fringed
by long tramps over Scotch hills. A
dark stain on the front is a rivulet of
beer spilled by a clumsy waiter in a Ger-
man concert garden. By the trailing,
dejected braid hangs a tale of a dark,

foggy night on her Britannic Majesty's
Channel steamer; a surging sea, a dizzy
head, an impertinent nail, and " 'Ere we
are at Dover, mem, at last."

In the dimmest corner of this same
closet hangs a battered, faded dressing-
gown. The elbows and quilted scarlet
silk cuffs of this once luxurious, gay gar-
ment are sadly dilapidated, as if the
wearerJiad spent his college days lean-
ing out his window on folded arms. In
one of the deep pockets is a smoking-cap
embroidered in a fanciful pattern with
tarnished gold braid. In another there
is a dainty, scented billet-doux, a bit of
blue ribbon, a meerschaum case, a son-
net in halting Latin, and a pair of small
primrose-colored gloves. The hands
that wore the gloves and wrought the
cap to cover a lover's brown curls are
folded in that sleep that knows no wak-
ing, and the college boy, who, years
ago, held the little gloves to his lips, sits
by a lonely fireside in a far-off land.

But my chief delight is in a cedar
chest. There I hear again and again a
love story that will never grow uninter-
esting. ' Tis simply a pearl-gray velvet
hat with sweeping plume and pale blush
roses that babbles to me so deliciously.
The bud of a girl who wore this saucy
hat is now a blooming matron, but how
beautiful she looked as she came down
the stairs with it on twenty years ago.
The young man impatiently awaiting
her said involuntarily, " Fresh-blown
roses washed with dew." Indeed, she
must have been a vision of rare loveli-
ness — the pure young face, the soft
brown hair, the dreaming eyes. " So
sweet, so daintily sweet and dear," he
thought. I fear neither of them heard
the opera that evening. They heard in-
stead love's beguiling overture and the
music of each other's unspoken words.
Poor old hat ! You were tossed care-

A KHAPSODY ON OLD CLOTHES.

lessly aside soon after that to give place
to bridal flowers, but your roses are still
faintly blushing in memory of the kiss
they guarded that night — what kiss so
perfect as a kiss sub rosa?

In a corner, almost hidden from my
prying eyes, is a pair of tiny red shoes.
The restless feet that once pattered about
in them are lightly keeping time, in high-
heeled French absurdities, to the witch-
ing strains of a Strauss waltz. Helen and
her brother Tom wonder why their an-
cient aunt will romance over their cast-
off habiliments, and scoff good-natured-
ly, and ask me to give my opinion of a
new bit of Limoges with no earthly asso-
ciation in which I have an interest.
Now Tom's ''Knickerbockers'" amuse me
vastly more than a Satsuma or Nankin
cup. They have patched knees, and bits
of string, chipped marbles, crumbling
chalk, and all the olla podrida a boy usu-
ally carries, are still in the much-abused
pockets. Tom half blushes as I shake
out these childish garments, and says,
" It's deuced queer that you should keep
such baby things ; " but he adds compas-
sionately, " women are such romantic
geese."

Yes, he is a mighty senior now; he
carries a cane, smokes many and strong
Havanas, whistles " Fair Harvard," and
considers himself altogether too manly
and practical to see a story in his old
" small clothes." but in his heart of
hearts I know he wishes he were, if only
for a day, a Knickerbockeredboy again,
climbing trees, playing for "keeps,"
and going nightly to confess all his
naughty acts to his mother. He has out-
grown these things, but however much
he scoffs. I know the sturdy little knee
breeches have stirred sweet and bitter
memories in his heart even more deeply
than in that of the " goose."

Ah ! hush ! Here, folded tenderly in
fine linen, is an epic bound in blue and

gold. It is a lieutenant's coat. The gilt
braid is dull ; the eagles on the few re-
maining buttons are barely discernible.
I read with filling eyes this sad, grand
poem. The poor faded coat lies before
me. a mute, blind Homer. I close my
eyes, and I hear the roar and din of can-
non, the whistling of bullets, the tramp-
ing and snorting of horses, the groans of
the dying. The hero who proudly wore
this is dead, shot through the heart.
Here on the breast is a dark stain where
his life blood flowed -away. Ah! how it
moans out the solemn, terrible tragedy
of those awful years of carnage !

And now, O, scoffer, can you speak
lightly of old clothes? Why, here is a
white silk whose slim waist has been en-
circled by the arm of the fair-haired
Duke — no, no, I'll forbear, and will not
be as eloquent as I can, lest your unac-
customed mind lose itself in the mazes of
my fancy.

But let me give you a word of advice.
Be not too eager to put aside old gar-
ments. There is a certain air of respec-
tability and refinement about an old but
well preserved dress that gives the wear-
er an enviable individuality and impor-
tance. A dress that has traveled and
seen the world — how much to be pre-
ferred to a garment ostentatiously new,
that has, perhaps, a vulgar, shop odor.
New clothes are so pretentious, so push-
ing, so grasping. But my prophetic
eyes see coming the golden age for old
clothes, for I know a maiden who has
dared wear the same hat two winters,
and I take heart of hope and smile defi-
antly on the man who jovially offers to
take all your old clothes and give you a
very small red Bohemian (?) glass rose.
I say to him, " My good Othello, your
occupation will soon be gone, for we are
growing wise in our day and genera-
tion."

THE WAY TO GRANDPA'S. 81

THE WAY TO GRANDPA'S.

BY LAURA GARLAND CARR.

A well-worn path across the field —

Round barley-lot and through the corn —
Here showing clearly, there concealed
By drooping grass, at dewy morn !

The older people walked straight through,
But many curves our young feet knew !

Out through the barn for just one glance

At swallows flitting to and fro—
At queer black heads, with look askance,
From out mud nests, at us below —
For just one tumble on the hay,
Then off, through back-doors, on our way!

Down by the stone-heap, framed around

By raspb'ry bushes young and old.
Just there, beneath a rock, we found
A whole ant city in the mould !
'Twas but a step outside the way —
We'd not been there for one whole day !

Then over yonder, by the ledge,

The blueb'ry bush that stood alone
Seemed wooing us with offered pledge
Of berries ripe and fully grown ;
And close beside, in grassy rest,
We found a tiny chip-bird's nest.

We reached the style— a pleasant place

Beneath a spreading maple tree-^-
And there we tarried long to trace
The wayward flight of bird and bee,
Or watched the chipmunk rise and fall,
Darting adown the pasture wall.

The pasture bars— too wide and high

For little fingers to undo-
But many crevices were nigh
Where little forms could " sidle " through !
Beyond, the orchard, darkly green,
While " cat-tail " flags grew rank between !

82 MEN AND THEIR PROFESSIONS.

The garden gate — the garden gate !

O, we could never pass it by !
There holly hocks rose tall and straight,
And sweet red roses charmed the eye;
There currant bushes, all aglow
With ripening fruit, were in a row.

And just beyond the low stone wall —
No sweeter music e'er was known —
We heard a brooklet's tinkling fall
Along each moss-enveloped stone.
We followed on, for well we knew
Where fragrant-beds of pep'mint grew!

The house was reached ! Agleam with red

The cherry trees stood round the door;
And scolding robins, overhead,
Fluttered and reveled in the store !
While noisy thumps of grandma's loom
Came sounding from the " open room."

'Twas long ago — O, long ago —

That we went bounding o'er the way;
We have grown sober-faced and know
Of many*changes since that day ;
But Mem'ry picture's all so plain
We seem to live it o'er again.

MEN AND THE IB PROFESSIONS.

BY WILLIAM O. CLOUGH.

THE professional teacher. w h teaches between the day of gradua-

We boldly assert, while in the belief tion and the day of marriage ; who

that it will provoke discussion, that the groans, whines and complains ; who hes-

most important person in every commu- itatingly accepts a school to oblige the

nity, to the community, is the profes- committee; who is an aristocratic snob,

sional teacher. That a good many worn- with not even the pride of family wealth

en, as well as men, succeed as teachers behind; who drags a weary body through

in public schools, seminaries, academies the drudgery of the day because of the

and colleges, who would be useless to the dollars and cents it puts in an empty

world in any other calling is true, and purse; who has no higher motive than

that the ideal teacher, whom we con- the belief that it is an eminently respect-

ceive, is in a large degree a myth, is also able way of earning broadcloth, silk and

true. Moreover we desire it understood ribbons, with which to dazzle the igno-

in the outset that what little we have to rant and cause the thoughtful to suggest

say concerning this necessary public ser- that there must have been a good deal of

vant does not include that ever present pinching to accomplish such a show ;

individual who has no heart in the work, who snaps, snarls and vexes the pupils,

MEN AND THEIR PROFESSIONS.

and shows a decided partiality to those
of their neighborhood or church ; who —
but the outs are too numerous to mention.
We have nothing to do with this teacher
in considering the genuine, the ideal
teacher.

The teacher we have in mind loves the
occupation, has fitted expressly for it, is
appointed ot God, is ambitious to succeed
and devotes energy and all attainable
knowledge to the work, is not troubled
with day and night dreams of fortunes
that are to be won in mercantile marts;
is not disturbed by ignorant public senti-
ment ; has no jealousies to avenge; no
fancied wrongs to set right, and no "■axes
to grind" or bosom friends to favor at the
expense Of some worthier persons inal-
ienable privileges. The ideal teacher has
the best balanced mind in the communi-
ty; never spends valuable time in dis-
cussing pet ideas and isms ; never crip-
ples usefulness by too great a familiarity
with the affairs of town, city or parish;
does not dabble or mix in politics ; is not
a bigot in creed or a self-appointed theo-
logian whose business it is to impress
upon the youthful minds the certainty of
future punishment as a cure for insignifi-
cant shortcomings. The ideal teacher
has a religious faith as simple as child-
hood, as sweet as the rose, as fragrant as
the incense from the holy Catholic altar,
as pure as the ritual of the Episcopalian.
as fixed as orthodoxy, that is infinitely
beyond the comprehension of narrow
sectarianism, that sees and recognizes
God and goodness in everything, that
patterns life after bright examples, and
realizes that the impressions of the school-
room are more enduring upon the mind
of the youth than all else, and have far
greater weight in molding future desti-
ny-

Of what shall be taught from books,
and of the precise method of teaching we
have nothing to say. There has been a
revolution in such matters since our
time, and we are not therefore familiar
with the routine of studies, or competent
to express an opinion that the public is
bound to respect. We have a conception,
however, of what the ideal teacher
should be. The ideal teacher recognizes

the great responsibility of the calling,
and is ever on guard against uneven de-
portment, peevishness, impoliteness by
word, look or gesture, selfishness, fash-
ion-plate conceit, lawlessness, deception,
theft of time for private purposes, and
a thousand and one little irregularities of
conduct that young people observe and
magnify to the destruction of a symmet-
rical character. The ideal teacher is nev-
er in violent temper; can inflict great-
er punisnment by kind words fitly spo-
ken than with a hickory switch, can
command the respect of pupils in school
and out of school alike, and is the friend
above all friends to whom application is
made for counsel when the troubles of
childhood are tormenting the mind. In
short, the ideal teacher — 'My teacher !'
as the pupil who is satisfied says with
enthusiasm — conducts the youthful aspi-
rant for the honors and emoluments of
life to the great door of the world and
says, practically, '••I leave you here, hav-
ing done the best for you that it is possi-
ble to do. You understand the beauty
of piety, the necessity of honesty, the
grandeur of purity, and the obstacles be-
tween you and complete success. Let
all the ends you aim at be honorable.
You know what is expected of you. Act
well your part, there all the honor lies.
You have my blessing. Go and be use-
ful in the world."

Let us admit that although there are
but few ideal teachers, there are some
who are all the fancy pictures, and we
honor them. The calling of the teacher
is the most important, and to our mind,
the most honorable — to the individual
who enters it in the right spirit and with
the right motives — that is known among
men. It towers above all others, it guar-
antees greater peace of mind, is of more
real dignity — the dignity that fathers and
mothers respect — and grants greater sat-
isfaction than any other profession. The
affairs of the world, — except in momen-
tous epochs, — its hurry, worry and con-
fusion, its k ups and downs,' its price cur-
rents, sensations, and the failures that
bankrupt men in purse and reputation,
need not enter his philosophy or vex his
mind. He may live on a plain high above

MEN AND THEIR PROFESSIONS.

all worldly bickerings and strife; he
may be comparatively free from sin, and,
if he will, eminently respectable, hope-
ful of the life that is and is to come, with-
out making any considerable effort as
compared with those mortals, who, by
force of circumstances over which they
have no control, are compelled to diekcr,
trade and associate with the rabble.

THE PREACHER.

The preacher of to-day is deciedly un-
like the preacher of the past. To many
this is undoubtedly a matter of regret
and lamentation. It is nevertheless a
fixed reality, the sequel of which is ob-
viously in the fact that the sources of ed-
ucation have increased and the masses
thereby advanced to the point where the
utterances of the most profound thinker
are subjected to the rigid examination of
a multitude of men of equal intelligence
and argumentative ability. Time and in-
stitutions of learning have wrought won-
derful changes, and instead of the sim-
ple, unquestioning faith of the fathers
there is a spirit of determined inquiry —
not to pay doubt; a disposition to inves-
tigate, to ignore acceptance simply be-
cause the Rev. Mr. So-and-so says so.
This being in a large degree the animus
of the public mind, the minister who ser-
monizes the year round on themes that
provoke discussion, loses his hold on his
hearers ; while the minister who is anx-
ous mainly to impress the beauty of the
Christian religion — whose concern is that
men shall live better, think holier, study
the amelioration of humanity, and feel
more of love to God and man, and take
more interest in deeds of charity and
mercy than in discussing Adam's fall —
comes nearer the wants of the people and
the mission which the masses of this gen-
eration are content to hear and espouse.
Those who accept the latter as the ideal
find two classes of ministers.

1. The first is cold and formal. He
comes to you like an apparition from a
refrigerator. His ' good morning' and
1 good evening' freezes the blood of the
individval to whom it is addressed, and
the mind quickly suggests that he should
walk in the sunlight an hour at morning
and evening before coming into the pres-

ence of men. He addresses his acquaint-
ance emphatically as ' Mister,' and never
condescends to smile or be cheerful. The
average sinner is ill at ease in his com-
pany and gets the impression that there
is no happiness here ; that all of joy and
good fellowship is ' way over there some-
where,' and it is a wicked sin to be so-
ciable, comfortable and companionable,
till he get there. Men who are in trouble
do not seek this sort of a clergyman.
They shun him and scold about him.

2. The second is warm and fraternal.
There is no formality in his greeting, no
ice in his hand with which to chill the
blood, no suggestion that it is a sin to be
happy, no indication that he would like
to give somebody a theological nut to
crack, no mannerism that asserts ' I'm
holier than thou.' He has evidently left
his creed — which doesn't amount to much
anyhow — in his study, put aside his ser-
mon paper, and started out with a view
of dispensing and receiving just as much
of good fellowship as can be convenient-
ly crowded into an hour. He enters into
conversation on the things that concern
the daily life, and, feeling that he is ac-
corded privileges that men will not grant
the multitude, drops a word in one place
and a remark in another, that lightens
burdens and leaves those whom he has
met more contented with their surround-
ings. In short this much is observable.
' The minister who mingles, with the peo-
ple and participates in their joys and sor-
rows, discovers their need, and is enabled
to preach directly at them, while the min-
ister who stands aloof preaches over
their heads and leaves only the impres-
sion that religion is a gloomy article that
belongs to sick people and those who
have no further pleasure in the world.'

The first mistrusts a thorn in every
bush, and the wicked one as manager of
all public amusements. He is a sort of
parish monitor; a censor whose behest
everybody is bound to obey. He vents
his spleen on things that are none of his
concern, orders straight jackets for per-
sons who are abundantly able to govern
themselves, and never omits an opportu-
nity to exhibit his spite against the Ma-
sonic body and Odd Fellowship. The

MEN AND THEIR PROFESSIONS.

second sees roses where the other discov-
ered thorns ; does not live in fear of be-
ing spirited away by the evil genius; is
satisfied that on general principles the
world is not so bad as some would like to
make it appear, and that by the exercise
of a little judgment and discrimination
it is possible to be pretty cheerful for the
most part of the journey from the cradle
to the grave. When the first speaks on
the questions at issue in this paragraph,
he oftends and shows that his vision is
exce' dingly narrow; his estimate of the
wants of the multitude and what it will
have, whether or no, considei'ed from the
wrong standpoint, and his knowledge of
the secret institutions painfully out of
keeping with the facts. The votaries
of the former deny him the poverty of
thanks, while the patrons of the latter
close their lips and way down in their
hearts pity his weakness. When the sec-
ond speaks he shows that he has rubbed
against the people of the world, knows
what they want and what they cannot be
prevented from obtaining, and is deter-
mined to so educate and refine the mass-
es that good taste shall prevail and the
very things which the first condemned
become a power for good. He is a warm-
hearted brother with the men who meet
in secret conclaves, and, like Father Tay-
lor of blessed memory, and many anoth-.
er eminent minister to guilty men, he
counts it no sin and no shame to kneel
with them and beseech God to bless and
continue them in fraternal fellowship and
in the faithful service that men are likely
to need at their hands. The first avoids
the crowd as he would the plague, and
the latter is always seeking admittance
to places where men congregate, and he
will tell you that he is always welcome;
that men grasp him warmly by the hand ;
that the class who have something mean
to do and therefore repel the minister, is
small, very small, so small indeed, that
he never blundered into their company.

WHAT CONSTITUTES A MINISTER?

But why do we speak of the profession
of the minister as second to that of the
teachers in public schools and other in-
stitutions of learning? Let us be un-
derstood as saying, ' we do not place this

exalted office second because of any pre-
conceived purpose to underate it, but
simply on the ground that its opportuni-
ty, in our judgment, is second — the com-
petent and conscientious teacher being
first to impress the mind with those prin-
ciples and examples which mould the
character and are most lasting. But we
had purposed to conclude this theme with
a summary of some of the observations
we would make to young men concern-
ing the ministry : —

They, the candidates, must have spe-
cial training in addition to that of the
college and theological school ; they must
possess traits of character unlike the
multitude, and it will not profit this gen-
eration if they are deep in books and
nothing in ' common with everyday life.'
They must understand human nature and
have the proper methods of approaching .
widely different minds, else all their ef-
forts will miscarry, and they will be the
constant recipient of rebuffs that will rob
them of their peace of mind and make
their life short and of little service to
their fellow men. They must be a con-
noisseur in the art of knowing just what
to say and how and when to say it, for —
although they may think otherwise— this
is one of the great secrets, in fact the
only secret, of the successful man in all
professions. They must have a good con-
stitution—for it is a well known fact that
a sickly minister preaches sickly ser-
mons, and sickly sermons are not what a
healthy people will naturally be satisfied
with. Sentiment may satisfy those of a
congregation who are at that interesting
period of human affairs when cupid is
the controlling medium, but it will never
do for the old folks who pay the bills.
They will cry out that it is veal, and be-
come hungry for something that is large-
ly made up of practical common sense.
They must make up their minds to be dil-
igent workers ; to submit to privations ;
to be subjected to occasional persecu-
tions ; to be a servant rather than a mas-
ter ; to endure all sorts of trials of their
own and for others ; to be cheerful when
overworked, and of even deportment
when afflicted with the ills that flesh is
heir to. They must expect to meet with

MEN AND THEIR PROFESSIONS.

obstinacies in men who profess better
things ; to be unfavorably criticised by
those who should overlook their short-
comings; to be, in short, a public man
who has no time to devote to his own
whims and fancies. Should a young man
enter this profession he will discover
strange things regarding human nature,
and will often have his faith in men and
women put to the severest test.

The young thinkers of tnis generation
will learn, as they develop and discover
the ways and manners of this wicked
world, that ' all is not gold that glitters ;'
that if a minister is bold of speech and
progressive — if be speak light to the
point on the sins and shortcomings that
are nearest the doors of his parishioners
— he is in danger of empty pews and a
hint from a certain clique that his useful-
ness is greatly impaired. They will also
learn that if these things are not men-
tioned, another offensive clique will cir-
culate the idea that he is a coward, and
tries to suit everybody ; if he unhesitat-
ingly presents his views on political
questions which concern the public weal
— and concerning which every right-
minded citizen should be gratified for in-
formation such as only an observing stu-
dent can impart — he is in danger of be-
ing derisively mentioned as the k political
parson' — 'a weak-minded minister turn-
ed ignorant statesman;' if he fails to
speak, to sound the alarm, to endeavor
to persuade men what is right and what
God would have them do in the premises,
he is berated as a man who halts between
two opinions or sympathizes on the wrong
side of the question at issiie. If he fail
to warn his people against the evil — a de-
creasing evil I am rejoiced to say — of in-
temperance, he is accused of being the
bosom friend of therumseller, of having
rumsellers in his congregation, of taking
their ill-gotten gains for the advancement
of the cause of religion. If, on the oth-
er hand, he earnestly and consistently
advocates the cause of temperance and
all moral and legal means to crush the
demon that seeks the ruin of mankind,
he is said to be lacking in good judgment
and detracting from the peace and amia-
bility of the community, and, sometimes,

is invited to ' step down and out.' If he
confines himself closely to the tenets of
the gospel, he is an old fogy, and the
people cry out for a modern preacher; if
he fail to draw a full congregation, he is
in trouble with the trustees of his society ;
if he visits Deacon Brown's family once
oftener than he does Deacon Smith's, he
is partial; if he is a little reserved and
the madams of the parish cannot have
their own way, he is made a target for
town talk ; if he is not all things to all
men, and all women, he is not social; if
he is all things to all men and women, he
is double faced.

They will learn that the times have
changed, and this profession is not, as
we hinted in the beginning, what it was
in the eighteenth century. Free think-
ers; free speakers and advanced ideas,
together with thoughtlessness and frivol-
ity, the elements of doubt and uncertain-
ty, and the desire to be the most fashion-
able church in town or city — regardless
of pointing to the cross and salvation,
and being humble examples of the better
way of living — have demoralized the oc-
cupants of the pews and thereby inflict-
ed erroneous impressions on the non-
churchman's mind. They will under-
stand, therefore, that the clergyman's
life has come to be one of trial and long
suffering; that patience, forbearance and
brotherly love will not prevail except
through the well directed efforts w! a
well balanced mind, and the exercises of
a discretionary diploinany such as few
men possess. We would not, however,
attempt to persuade any man, who feels
that he has a mission to perform, to en-
ter another field. Brave and conscien-
tious men are wanted, and we bid all can-
didates God's speed and a just reward.
Our only caution is 'be sure, you enter
with the right motive and with a right
understanding.' Do not enter with the
idea that it is an easy way of earning
your living, because of a desire for
wealth, or in the belief that it is to be to
you a life free from annoyances. It has
its hardships and its trials; its triumphs
and its rewards. It has its perplexities
such as tew men can satisfactorily masr
ter ; its burdensome crosses, and its dark

MEN AND THEIR PROFESSIONS

gloomy, and desponding hours, which
nothing but a consecrated life can with-
stand. We are therefore persuaded that
he who enters here should pause and con-
sider his way.

THE PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON.

The third useful profession — and we are
not sure that it is not the first and most
important to the human family — is that
of the physician and surgeon. The more
we contemplate this profession the more
we honor it, and the longer we live the
greater is our respect for ninety-nine in
every hundred of the men that are in it.
We have observed, and it cannot be that
we are alone in our observation, that
there is no class of men in this commu-
nity that go about their business with the
quiet demeanor that marks the true phy-
sician. He meddles little in public mat-
ters, and he seldom pauses to tell long
stories. He is generally a model man,
and there is an honor about him that no
other profession possesses. He never re-
marks unkindly of a rival, nor does he
by word or conduct inform the mind of
the rabble with explanation or insinua-
tion of the delicate cases of disease or
surgery which he has been called to treat.
His lips are sealed; his tongue is silent,
and we sometimes wonder whether or no
he has been conducted into the deep re-
cesses of some gloomy dungeon, and
amidst suggestive surroundings and op-
pressive silence, taken upon himself a
more solemn obligation to secrecy and
circumspection than any society on earth
can boast.

The graduated physician and surgeon
is a good and true man. To his skill, to
his knowledge, to his honor, men and
women implicitly commit themselves.
Are we disposed to complain of his char-
ges, a moment's reflection convinces us
that an awful responsibility is his. Are
we inclined to doubt his coming at our
call, the second thought reveals the fact
that in his faithfulness — we speak now of
ninety-and-nine in a hundred — he out-
ranks the world ; for, be it recorded to
his praise, he responds to the wail of dis-
tress whether it be in the heat of a high-
twelve summer sun or the low-twelve of
the cold, gloom and darkness of winter,

and that, too, in innumerable cases where
he knows there is to be no compensation.
In him we confide when the days are
dark, the nights long, the pain almost
unendurable; when hope is but a faint
ray, when dear ones are in danger, when
distress is upon us. Let him who can
cry out 'unfaithful!' The physician has
little time of his own, and little time for
speculations in which other men indulge.
His average comfort — as other men see
comfort — is in the main a myth. He is
everybody's servant. He is in the man-
sion at one hour and the cottage the next,
and his profession knows no distinction —
his teaching and practice no favoritism.
Both obtain the best service he can ren-
der, and it often occurs that the cottage
obtains a discount in his charges.

We have observed that the world would
be in a terribly bad way were it other-
wise, and hence we take occasion to say
that we have no sympathy with that mis-
taken zeal — as it appears to our under-
standing — which in any way tends to
weaken the esteem in which all right-
minded men and women must of neces-
sity hold them. We have no desire,
however, to discuss public measures in
this article, and so we pause and pass to
the consideration of other professions.

THE LAWYER.

The man who 'puts out his sign' in
this profession must be an individual who
has a well-balanced head, and is y thick
skinned' in the matter of public abuse.
There are a good many people, and they
are usually those who are two-thirds of
the time in a scrape, who cannot com-
mand adjectives sufficiently expressive to
speak his condemnation. He may be as
honest, as conscientious and as pious as
any man in the community, and yet there
are those who consider and proclaim him
a pirate. That he lives and thrives large-
ly by other men's misfortunes and mis-
understandings; that his fees for servi-
ces rendered are generally five times
what they ought to be, is true ; but that
he is worse than the average of his fellow
men is not true. We have observed, how-
ever, that men who are never so happy
as when they are ' head over heels ' in a
law suit — and there are a good many such

MEN AND THEIR PROFESSIONS.

— are not entitled to a great amount of
sympathy, and we opine that they should
not complain bitterly about lawyers.
Those people who have no scrapes, who
do not trespass on their neighbors, who,
if their neighbors trespass upon them
are not angered to revenge, or ' mad,'
past becoming pleased, and in a condi-
tion of mind that forgives all the world
at evening prayer, should not complain,
except perhaps, when they aspire to of-
fice of honor, trust or profit, and find an
attorney and counsellor at law ready to
fill the bill to their exclusion. But we
are not kindly disposed, enthusiastically
speaking, towards lawyers, and there-
fore cannot be expected to give them the
character we award to a profestional
teacher or clergyman. There is a good
deal about the profession that we do not
like. Lawyers are clanish. They 'tickle'
and ' feed' each other, and are ' deaf,
dumb and blind ' to the pockets of other
professions. To use a slang phrase,
1 they know too much ' for men who are
not burdened so heavily with knowledge
as by cheek ; but, inasmuch as we have
no purpose or desire to offend, we will
not particularlize. ■ Suffice it to be said
that it is our obseiwation and experience
that a barrister can serve God and Mam-
mon more successfully than the multi-
tude. His is not, however, as bad as the
average mind pictures him, and even
among our friends and acquaintance there
are worthy and honorable exceptions
from the rule that marks the profession
as one to be dodged by that man who
hopes to live a life acceptable to himself
and the community.

THE JOURNALIST.

In this profession there is less money
and more trouble and torment to the
mind and body than all others combined.
The journalist serves a wicked and per-
verse generation, and sees more of the
shams and meanness of men than any of
his compeers. He is bounded on all sides
by critics, and is every day making the
acquaintance of idiots, who, with more
cheek than brains, flatter themselves that
they — who have spent their lives in some
other calling — are more competent in the
matter of editing a newspaper than he

who has devoted a quarter of a century
to the profession. He is annoyed by ig-
norance that assumes intelligence, and if
he avoids a discussion on some issue that
in his judgment is in the interest of an
individual rather than the public, it is
hinted that he has been bought ; if he
denounces evil and unfairness he is med-
dlesome and malicious; if a free puff is
denied he is mean ; if a free puff is giv-
en, the person who receives it thinks he
has only obtained what he is entitled to
because of his great merit, and some-
times he comes around to find fault be-
cause it was not stated a good deal strong-
er ; if he pursues a course in politics that
he believes most advantageous for patri-
otic and party ends, the men who should
give support turn their noses in condem-
nation. A journalist is expected to de-
nounce, politically, his best friend, and
to compliment a party man, politically
again, and that, too, when the 'denounc-
ing and complimenting' is of no more
consequence to him as an individual than
a copy of a last year's almanac. He is
expected to praise everything— be it good,
bad or indifferent, professional or ama-
teur — and he is certain that the. man of
whom he is compelled, in order to main-
tain his equilibrium before the public, to
speak censorious, will curse him, even
though the same individual has been fa-
vorably mentioned in his newspaper wri-
tings ninety-nine times, for which the
person thus complimented has never be-
stowed the poverty of his thanks. And
then, if he is a live journalist, he is al-
ways writing and publishing something
that some pious soul does not like, and
is receiving calls from good people who
want their neighbor shown up. and a
promise that he will not mention the
source of his information. He is both-
ered by typographical errors, assailed by
his political opponent, hated by those
who have cases in the criminal court, an-
noyed by those who are not reported ev-
ery time they open their mouths, and in
danger of a club or law suit from some
one whose merit is not appreciated. In
short, the journalist is a victim of men's
spleen, and he must be a man of temper
like a dove, and a constitution like an ox,

MEN AND THEIR PROFESSIONS.

or make his arrangements to be with the
angels at forty.

POLITICIANS AND SPORTING-MEN.

Both are professions — we guess— and
both are to be given the ' cut direct ' by
all men who have made up their minds
that salvation, at the end of life, is desi-
rable. Not that all will be ' lost,' but
that the ' chances ' are nine out of ten in
favor of it. The ' professor of politics '
needs no special notice in New Hamp-
shire. He is an ever present individual,
and what he don't know— unless he is
mightily mistaken, and he never will ad-
mit as much — no magazine writer can
tell. The professor of the art of gamb-
ling—for that is what constitutes a sport-
ing man's career — may be briefly men-
tioned. ' His ways are devious, dark and
damning. He is the jackal of society
that does more mischief than the church
can counteract. He seeks the ruin of the
body, the peace of mind and the soul of
his victim, and, alas, too often accom-
plishes his purpose. He prospers for a
time, but the end is invariably terrible to
contemplate. He is the abhorrence of
all men— even those who are not particu-
lar in morals— the culprit who gives the
police the greatest uneasiness, the des-
pised of the community, the forsaken of
God, the hated and ignored of virtuous
women. And more than all, this blear-
eyed loafer, this would-be important gen-
tleman, knows that he is under the ban
of society, knows that he is a reprobate,
a fugitive from justice, a worthless being
who preys upon men and morals. Rum
and its *t cce'etera ruins his health, and
eventually— if he escapes prison, where
he rightfully belongs— he dies, to be un-
mourned and speedily forgotten, save by
the victims who live to curse his memo-
ry. This is a profession that no young
man can contemplate with any degree of
satisfaction, or seek to enter unless he
has ' made up hi mind ' to be useless,
and have it said, « it were better had he
never been born.'

THE MERCHANT.

If there is any man in the States that
is, and has been for several years past,
deserving of sympathy, that man is the
merchant, who has had his all— his ne-

cessity of the present and his hope of old
age— invested in l stock in trade.'
The fall in prices on staple articles,
rents, which are at ' war figures,' taxes,
which have increased rather than dimin-
ished, and customers who do not pay
their bills promply, if at all, have made
his life full of trouble and anxiety. In
fact, in ninety cases in every hundred,
his is a daily anxiety of which the pro-
fessional man — who enjoys a long sum-
mer vacation — knows absolutely nothing
by experience. The merchant's nerves
are at tension the greater part of the
time, and the multiplicity of cares with
which he is surrounded robs him of that
enjoyment which, in the course of human
events, all men who labor are entitled to
receive. With notes becoming due, cur-
rent expenses to meet — be the times nev-
er so dull— he often finds himself in fine
meshes, and enduring hardships of which
the laboring man is entirely ignorant.
There is, however, no necessity of
minutely depicting the trials of the mer-
chant, for the certainty that he is the
man who, in these days of financial em-
barrassment and uncertainty, l carries
the heavy end of the plank,' is obvious
to those to the ' manor born.' More-
over, those who entertain the belief that
the merchant is the man who is in the
majority at fashionable summer resorts,
who spends his money the most freely,
will, upon investigation, find themselves
deceived. We speak for the average
merchants, for we know that while the
public school teacher, the clergymen,
lawyers and others, have opportunities
of ' rest and refreshments ' to body and
mind, while they may sun themselves at
morn and eve and bask in cool seclusion
at midday, the merchant and those other
' watchmen on the towers '—the physi-
cian and journalist— are mired in busi-
ness. Those, therefore, who envy the
merchant, who imagine that he is the
man who has the ' easiest time of it,'
who see only the millionaire picture, are
mistaken in their estimate. They should
keep their eyes open to obituaries like
the following, which we clip from a cur-
rent number of a well-known newspa-
per : ' He was for many years the sen-

MEN AND THEIR PROFESSIONS.

ior partner of the firm and was a pros-
perous merchant. But adversity and ill
health gathered over his way. Afflicted
with mental disease, his last years were
clouded, and he passed away the victim
of care and disappointment, and the ob-
ject of sympathy.'

THE MERCHANT'S CLERK.

It is due that I should mention the
merchant's clerk. The popular belief
that his is a life free from the trials,
temptations and perplexities of the man
who has a trade or tills the soil is an er-
roneous one. There is no man who is
compelled to labor for his daily bread —
and all men ought to be compelled to do
diligence or go hungry — that has a more
disagreeable task. Through summer's
heat and winter's cold he is ' cooped up '
behind a counter and is face to face all
the day long with customers. Some of
these customers know what belongs to
good manners, but the greater number
have only a vague idea of k shopping eti-
quette,' and are nice, polite and aristo-
cratic in their imagination only. This
latter class — and we know enough of hu-
man nature to feel confident that there is
not a woman in America who will make
a personal application of what is here
truthfully said — are an unmitigated an-
noyance, a libel on good breeding, and
are liberally hated and emphatically de-
spised by clerks who have no alternative
but to shirk them upon their fellows.
There is not a merchant's clerk of our
acquaintance — we have no fear of con-
tradiction — but can give the names of a
hundred persons who are dreaded as the
plague and dodged as a timid man would
a dog with the hydrophobia. There are
other trying ordeals to which clerks are
subjected ; such as dull days when there
is nothing to do but stand around, first
on one foot and then on the other, and
wait for a storm to clear up and custom-
ers to put in an appearance; such as
irritable and unreasonable masters ; such
as insufficient salary to meet their ex-
penses; such as the impossibility to ac-
cumulate the wherewith to clothe their
family — if they happen to be blessed
with one — or pay their tired and need-of-
rest wife's expenses to her country

home ; such as an inability to save a few
dollars to pilot them through sickness
and support them in their old age. All
these things should be considered by
country boys who have got the merchant
clerk maggot in their crazy heads, and
the truth should be stated in all candor
that not one in a hundred of those who
go behind the counter become ' merchant
princes.' It has been our observation
that when a business man wants a part-
ner, or is compelled to promote some
one, the person who has the preference
is a son, brother or individual who is
backed by money not his own and who
comes to the establishment without ex-
perience and with monstrous, overhear
ing and presuming airs, while the faith-
ful clerk, who has spent his strength to
build up the business, is snubbed. and T
if the times be a little dull, so that he can
not readily find employment elsewhere T
is cut down in the matter of salary be-
cause the expense of the concern has be-
come greater than the income. These are
facts that admit of no cavil, and there-
fore we say to every young man who is
about to become a participant in the
struggle for place, consider well the sit-
uation. Do not despise the lessons of
the experienced or imagine that you are
so much smarter than others that you
will escape their grievances, for it is not
so 'much in the possibility of success now
as it has been in the past.

THE MECHANIC.

Concerning the mechanic, whether he
be first, second or third class, much may
be said. Were we to speak at length it
would be with great respect and sympa-
thy, for we realize that he is indispensa-
ble to the world, that much of the pros-
perity of the people depends upon him,
that by his inventions he has conferred
blessings that cannot well be estimated,
and that just now he is, in consequence
of the general depression of business,, a
victim of low wages and in most case&
has a hard chance in the matter of ob-
taining employment and snpporting his
family. To discourage young men from
learning a trade is a responsibility — even
with a full knowledge of the times and
the belief that low wages are to contin-

DYER HOOK SANBORN, A.M.

ue — that but few men would care to
take, and hence we must dodge the sub-
ject with the commonplace remark that
• we hope the times will be better, that
they will soon be enabled to earn the
honest dollar of their daddies and be re-
lieved from the annoyances and embar-
rassments which now surround them.'

THE FARMER.

Those who have read this article to
this caption will not expect ' sound ad-
vice ' from us in this paragraph, and al-
though we should chance to ' hit the ex-
act truth,' would be slow to acknowledge
it. We will therefore be brief. That
farming is hard work is an indisputable
fact. That farmers have cares and anxi-
eties we will admit. But farming has.
to a large degree, been reduced to a sci-
ence, and the man who uses the intelli-
gence which is easily obtained succeeds
better than those in professions and nu-
merous other callings, and although he
may not have so much ready money, he
has that which answers the same great
purpose and which is about all the mul-
titude can hope for at any time, viz. :
1 the creature comforts.' He is also, as
a rule, free from embarrassments; is sub-
ject to no man's caprice; is in no fear of
a sheriff; can have a holiday now and
then without losing his pay.: and il he is
a willing man in the l seasons,' may

place his family beyond the pinching and
worryment that come to those who are
dependent upon k quick ' or ' glutted '
markets. All these possibilities, with
many other advantages — such as distance
from the temptations of the grog-shop,
the society of dead-beats and loafers,
the familiarities of vice, and animosities
and jealousies — are less, and why, in
view of all that has been said and writ-
ten, there is such an unsolved problem
as ' How shall we keep our young people
upcn the farms?' is beyond our compre-
hension. We note, however, that multi-
tudes of mechanics, traders and others
have become disgusted with the tread-
mill of their chosen callings and com-
pelled to acknowledge from the ; book of
experience ' that the most reliable feeder
of the family is the soil, and the farmer
who ' means business' quite as honora-
ble and more profitable than the average.
Therefore, young men, consider well
your situation and your opportunity.
Let your k air castles' in which wealth
abounds be but the dream in the dark.
Let your judgment master the situation.
Consider that there are more applicants
than places, more blanks than prizes, and
if you have a gloomy outlook, stick, make
it bright, and by your grit and industry
make it pay.

DYER HOOK SANBORN, A. M.

The writer of this sketch
and 1854, a mechanic, working in Hop-
kinton. In his frequent visits to the
stores and post-office he was accustomed
to meet the students of old Hopkinton
Academy, with Greek and Latin books,
an algebra or geometry in their hands,
which they were supposed to be study-
ing. Subsequent developments have
shown that, in some cases, there was no
fact in the supposition. But at that time
they seemed to the writer to be of auoth-

BY REV. SILAS KETCHUM, WINDSOR, CT

was. in 1853 er order of beings.

Some of them have
since become such — eminently. And the
supposed ecstacy of their employment,
and profundity of their learning, excited
ambitions and aspirations which he then
had no means of gratifying or promot-
ing.

The teacher at that time was Prof.
Dyer H. Sanborn. To get him from
Tubbs Union at Washington was thought
by the trustees and townsmen a consid-
erable acquisition. His fame had pre-

DYER HOOK SANBORN, A. M.

ceded him, and was probably at that
time at its climax, and extensive. An
unusual advent of students from abroad
was anticipated and realized. So many
pupils, it was said, (the writer does not
speak from data or personal knowledge)
had not attended that institution at one
time for many years, as did attend it
during Prof. Sanborn's preceptorate;
and it is doubtful if so many ever did in
any one term afterward.

As the writer was walking home one
evening he was accosted by the Profes-
sor,to whom he had never before spoken.
The popular teacher made enquiry in an
easy and kindly way as to the opportu-
nities, position and antecedents of the
boy mechanic, and learning that the me-
chanic was not altogether content to re-
main as he was, gave him some encour-
aging words, advised him about his
reading, and was the first man who ever
showed to him the possibility of pursu-
ing those studies toward which he had
looked with longing eyes afar off.

The acquaintance thus begun by the
condescension of the Professor was by
him encouraged and improved, and
eventually ripened into a closer and
more intimate friendship than often ex-
ists between two of such disparity of
years. In the days of his activity many
men doubtless enjoyed his confidence,
and thoroughly knew him in the various
relations which he sustained to society.
But during the years of his retirement
at Hopkinton, the writer believes there
were few men to whom the Professor
spoke, of himself, of his history, his af-
fairs and designs, more unreservedly
than to himself.

While therefore he feels conscious that
he thoroughly understood the man, and
appreciated him for not more nor less
than he actually was; and esteemed him
mor.e highly as he knew him more inti-
mately than the generality of his towns-
men; he confesses himself disqualified,
by the very circumstances, from attempt-
ing an impartial analysis of his charac-
ter and acquirements.

But Professor Sanborn's life was busy
and fruitful, his talents versatile and va-
riously employed. He sustained at dif-

ferent times relations to interests widely
diverse and unrelated. His influence
with the young of both sexes was marked
and unusual. For full fifty years he was
an instructor of youth, and at the time
he laid down the ferule had had perhaps
a greater^number under his tuition than
any other man in the State. For a gen-
eration at least his name was familiar to
the people, and the positions he filled,
if not eminent, were at least not incon-
spicuous in public affairs. His personal
acquaintance was vast beyond any enu-
meration. And yet, so far as the writer
is aware, no connected history of the la-
borious services rendered by this man,
or the changes that marked his useful
career, has ever been put on record.

Of the facts herein brought together
some were obtained from an obituary in
a Seminary paper printed at Tilton, some
from his brother, Prof. E. D. Sanborn of
of Dartmouth College, some from an ex-
amination of catalogues, registers, ma-
sonic proceedings, school reports and
other documents, and many were com-
municated by the gentleman himself in
the latter years of his life. He has
served his generation and his record is
on high. These scanty and partial mem-
oranda may also serve to preserve some
knowledge and remembrance of it to the
posterity of those who were in early
years his pupils, and in after life his
friends.

Dyer Hook Sanborn was named for his
maternal grandfather, Capt. Dyer Hook
of Chichester, formerly (1760) of Kings-
ton, and one of the original proprietors
of Wentworth, whose daughter, Hannah,
married David E. Sanborn of Gilmanton,
and became the mother of three sons
who rose to distinction. Of the father,
David E., and of the Hon. John S., his
youngest son, a slight account is given
in the sketch of Prof. Edwin D., Gran-
ite Monthly, I, 289.

Dyer H. was born in Gilmanton, 29
July, 1799; and died in Hopkinton, 14
January, 1871. Brought up on his fa-
ther's farm, which was a mile square, he
was early engaged in the rural pursuits
common to the life of a farmer's boy at
that period. But having an active and

enquiring mind, and being of a feeble
constitution, he turned his attention to
study and prepared for college at Gil-
raanton. Academy, but for some reason
gave up the intention of going to college
and never entered.

At the age of seventeen he commenced
teaching and taught winter schools for
about ten years, in Pittsfield, Deerfield,
Gilmanton, Wiscasset, Me., and Ames-
bury, Mass., working on a farm sum-
mers. He had in the mean time mar-
ried and had bought a place in Gilmanton
which he carried on, and served some
time as a captain of militia. He then
removed to Lynn, Mass., and engaged
in teaching as a profession. While there
he commenced and pursued a course of
medical studies, and it is believed he re-
ceived the degree of M. D. ; but he nev-
er practiced medicine.

In 1828 he removed to Marblehead,
where he taught for several years.
Returning to New Hampshire he became
principal of the Academy at Sanbornton
Square, and prepared for the press an
"Analytical Grammar of the English
Language." In its construction he used
many of the definitions which had been
employed in the Grammar of John L.
Parkhurst, published in 1820, for which
purpose he purchased and held the copy-
right of Parkhurst's Grammar; but
gave that gentleman credit for all he
used, with scrupulous care. His Analyt-
ii al Grammar was first printed at Con-
cord, in 1836. The sale of the first edi-
tion was rapid, and in 1839 it was revised
and stereotyped. In 1846 it had gone
through eight editions.

In 1833 he received from Waterville
College, and in 1841 from Dartmouth
College, the honorary degree of Master
of Arts.

He also taught at Sanbornton Bridge,
now Tilton, and became Professor of
Mathematics and of the Natural and In-
tellectual Sciences in the New Hamp-
shire Conference Seminary, which was
then located on theNorthfield side of the
river. While in this position he formed
classes for normal instruction, and pub-
lished an abridgment of his larger work
under the form and title of " Sanborn's

DYER HOOK SANBORN, A.M.

Normal School

Grammar,'" Concord.
1846, which passed through eight edi-
tions in five years, being extensively used
in certain sections of New Hampshire,
and probably in other states, till super-
ceded by Weld's. In this appeared the
well-known grammatical rhyme, com-
mencing,

A noun's the name of any thing,
As ball, or garden, hoop or swing,

of which he claimed to be the original
author.

At what time the writer is not aware, •
but thinks it was while connected with
this institution, Professor Sanborn re-
ceived ordination and became a local
preacher in the Methodist Episcopal
Church. He never took an appointment,
or belonged to conference, but he often
supplied vacant pulpits, in his own and
other denominations, and married a great
number of people, particularly among
his former pupils.

In 1848 he left Sanbornton and was
principal of Andover Academy one year,
when he became principal of Tubbs Un-
ion Academy, Washington, and was ap-
pointed School Commissioner of Sulli-
van County in 1850, serving two years.
He also represented Washington in the
Constitutional Convention in 1851.

With the fall term of 1853 he entered
upon his duties as principal of the Hop-
kinton Academy. Of his popularity at
that time, and of the success of the
school under his administration, mention
has already been made. He purchased
a small place in Hopkinton village which
was henceforth his residence during his
life. This he took a great delight in
adorning and improving, and paid par-
ticular attention to the cultivation of the
best varieties of grapes, pears and ap-
ples.

Having long been a personal friend and
political associate of Franklin Pierce, he
was offered and accepted a clerkship in the
Treasury Department at Washington,un-
der that gentleman's administration, and
entered UDon his duties in 1855. In 1857
and 1858 he taught a select school in Pitts-
field; but receiving the appointment of
postmaster of Hopkinton in 1859, in
place of Joseph Stan wood, deceased, he

94 A HYMN.

never taught, any except private pupils after that war with the Republican.
afterward. Fie continued in the office Professor Sanborn published, besides
until his death, and was for many years the books above named, •• A GUsographi-
also superintendent of the town schools, cal Manual. " 1856, and "School Mot-
After retiring from the active duties of toes,'* 1858. He was a frequent contrib-
his profession his former pupils gave him utor to the N. H. Journal of Education*
a complimentary reception and benefit, while published, and for various periodi-
with an elaborate dinner, and literary cals in and out of the state. He collect-
exercises adapted to the occasion, and as ed with great labor materials for a his-
a testimonial of their good faith they tory of the Sanborn Family, a portion of
presented him a purse of several hun- which he edited and prepared for the
dred dollars. press, but did not live to complete the

In Freemasonry he was a Knight Tern- work,

plar, and was a chaplain of the G,rand About two years before his decease he

Lodge of New Hampshire from 1S49 to experienced a partial paralysis, severely

1856. He held for many years a commis- effecting one side, from which he never

sion of Justice of the Peace and Quo- fully recovered ; and although his exit

rum throughout the State, and did con- was not unexpected, his final illness was

siderable justice business. Before the very brief. His second wife survives

war of the Rebellion he affiliated with him, but by neither wife left he any is-

the Democratic party ; but during and sue.

A HYMN.

BY MARY HELEN BOODEY.

I can but trust in God
And rest within His arms,

Whether I lie beneath the sod
Or face life's wild alarms.

In Him is all my joy;

In Him is all my peace ;
I work in His employ.

And at His bidding cease.

He doetb all things well,

He loveth every soul;
All things His goodness tell

And His supreme control.

Father of life and light !

Being all-wise and kind!
Oh, give me clearer sight

Who am so weak and blind.

Let me not faint and fail
Before the close of day,

Oh, let not doubts assail
The heart that owns Thy sway.

And when my work is done,
And I am gathered home,

How bright will be the sun !
How sweet a voice say — Come !

THE TWO LAST SAGAMORES OF NEWICHAWANNOCK.

THE TWO LAST SAGAMORES OF NEWICHAWANNOCK

sligo shore was his small and rudely cul-
around him was a
with game ; near his

tivated cornfield :
dense forest filled

dwelling were several small moulded
hills irrigated by pure, gushing springs,
upon whose summit there clustered lus-
cious grapes and sweet and nourishing
nuts. At his fireside could be heard the
gurgling waters of Assabumbadoc as
they fell through the craggy chasm into
the fathomless pool.

If he turned to the rising sun he saw
old Agamenticus sitting upon the rim
of the ocean, the pulpit of the
Great Spirit, where their taaditions
taught them He came down concealed in
the great storm cloud to watch the angry
moods of the ocean. If he turned to the

above the

towering

BY W. F. LOKD.

[This sketch, from the pen of the historian of Berwtck ami Somersworth, will be, we believe of
sufficient interest to our readers dwelling in the eastern section of the state, as well as to all interest-
ed in Indian history, to warrant its republication in the Gkanite Monthly.]

Rowles. a noted Sagamore of Newich-
awannock, during its early settlement by
the English, had his domicil on the
easterly side of the river near Quamphea-
gen falls. All the Indians from the up-
per waters of the Newichawannock to
the sea were his subjects, though he was
under the great Passaconway. His sub-
jects had been greatly diminished by the
fearful plague that had flapped its ma-
larious wings along the New England
coast, a few years before permanent set-
tlement had been made in Newichawan-
nock.

He possessed the gift of prophesy and
predicted to the early settlers the im-
pending bloody conflicts between the
Indian and white man. He said " at first
the Indian will kill many and prevail but
after a few years they will be great suf-
ferers and finally be rooted out and de-
stroyed."

The dwelling place of Rowles upon
the banks of the Newichawannock was
well chosen for sustenance and pictur-
esque beauty. It was at the head of tide
water ; the upper waters were not then
as now yarded up to be daily parceled
out and harnessed to a ponderous mech-
anism and ladened with the filth of fac-
tories and street sewers, but it flowed
freely from the crystal lakes, dancing
and laughing through the high mossy
gorges to the tide water. In their sea-
son, countless salmon and migratory fish
sported in its crystal waters on their
passage to its upper sources ; an hour in
his light canoe upon a receding tide
would take him to the broad Piscataqua
which the early explorers found so
crowded with delicious fish that they
named it Piscataqua (fish water).

Near the soft green meadows on the

long

setting sun he saw
forest, draped in hazy veils, the
chain of mountains that brace up the
valley of the Merrimack, the home of
Passaconaway, his great lord and mas-
ter,

"Who could change the seared and yellow leaf
To bright and living green."

Ferdinando Gorges had by royal favor
obtained a charter of all the laud in the
western part of Maine, where he hoped
to build up an empire for his prosperity.
He founded the Agamenticus plantation
in 1623 : within its limits was Newicha-
wannock. He sent over scores and hun-
dreds of tenants and' servants. Some
having no taste for agriculture were early
attracted by the excellent timber that
grew upon the banks of the Newicha-
wannock and its wonderful facilities for
the manufacture and transportation of
lumber.

In 1643 Humphrey Chadbourne, for a
pittance, purchased the homestead of
Rowles, the land on which the village of

THE TWO LAST SAGAMORES OF NEWICHAWANNOCK.

South Berwick now stands. Seven years
later Gov. Godfrey and council granted
to Richard Leaders, Assabumbadoc falls
and adjacent lands. Dams and mills
were erected there, and at Quampheagen
and Salmon Falls. The forests melted
away, the game disappeared and migra-
tory fish could no longer ascend the
river. Every means on which Rowles
and his people had relied for support had
been swept away.

In 1670, five years before the com-
mencement of the Indian wars. Rowles
being bedridden with age and sickness,
complained of the great neglect with
which he had been treated by the English.
At length he sent a messenger to some
ot the principal men of Newichawan-
nock to make him a visit. He told them
" he was loaded with years and that he
expected a visit in his infirmities from
those who were now tenants on the land
of his fathers. Though all of these plan-
tations are of right my children's, I am
forced in this age of evil, humbly to re-
quest a few hundred acres of land to be
marked out and recorded for them upon
the town books as a public act, so that
when I am gone they will not be perish-
ing beggars in the pleasant places of
their birth."

This modest request of the dying
Rowles was deemed of sufficient im-
portance to be attested to by Major
Waldron and others, but it was never
granted. Rowles passed away beyond
the setting sun, leaving no inheritance
for his children in the places of their
birth .

His son and successor, Blind Will—
who received that name from having lost
one eye — regarding the premonitory
counsel of his father with sacred respect,
at the commencement of the King Phil-

lip war, about 1675, he entered the Eng-
lish service where he remained two
years, or until his death. Although
sometimes distrusted by his comrades
because he had a red skin he always
proved himself loyal to the English and
is spoken of by the early historians as a
Sagamore of note and ability. He be-
came the trusted friend of Maj. Waldron,
accompanied him on various expeditions
against the Indians and acted as pilot in
the expedition to Ossipee lakes.

After the English made an alliance
with the " Mohawks " against the
Eastern tribes, strange Indians were re-
ported to be in the vicinity of Coehecho.
Maj. Waldron sent Blind Will with a
company to ascertain who they were.
The "Mohawks" mistaking them for en-
emies rushed upon them and only three
escaped. Blind Will was dragged away
by his hair and perished in the woods at
the confluence of the Isinglass and Cho-
checho rivers in the south-west part of
Rochester, a short distance above the
line between Rochester and Dover.
This location still bears the name of
" Blind Will's Neck," and the old inhab-
itants in that locality will point out the
spot where he was buried, and some of
them insist that they have heard his
' k war-whoop " as they pass it with their
teams in the midnight hour. Few of the
subjects of Rowles remained long in the
valley of the Newichawannock after his
death. A century ago one had his home
on the banks of Worster's river, near the
Newichawannock, by the name of Sun-
set, a suggestive name. He was buried
in an unmarked grave in the old Wors-
ter burying ground and not a ray of twi-
light from the departed race lingers in
the pleasant places of their birth.

Aih.-l-u-jlh jlimk.NuiM ■<> Bofitou

aZCyuPe

THE

GBANITE MONTHLY.

A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, HISTORY AND
STATE PROGRESS.

VOL. II.

NOVEMBER, 1878.

NO. 4.

GEN. NATT EH AD.

Passing up the romantic valley of the
Merrimack, that queen of New England
rivers, the nursing mother of our great-
est industries as well as the brightest
adornment "of our most beautiful land-
scapes, the traveler observes, when near-
ly midway between Hooksett and Sun-
cook, upon the table-land, commanding
an extensive view of the valley in either
direction, an elegant and spacious brick
mansion which seldom fails to attract
more than mere passing notice. It is
indeed one of the finest country resi-
dences in New England, the elegance
as well as the substantial comfort and
convenience of its interior appointments
fully bearing out the promise of its ex-
terior. This mansion is the residence of
one of New Hampshire's self-made men
— men who through the avocations of
manual labor and the stirring discipline
of business life have won their way to
competence and honor — commanding the
confidence of their fellow citizens as
manifested in their elevation through the
suffrages of the people to positions of
trust and responsibility.

Here lives Gen. Natt Head, whom the
people of New Hampshire at the recent
election — the first holden under the
amended constitution — selected for their
chief magistrate for the term of two
years from June next.

Gen. Head is a descendant of Nathan-
iel Head, who, with his brother John,
came from Wales to America and set-
tled in Bradford, Mass., but subsequent-
ly removed to Pembroke in this State.
He had three sons, Nathaniel, James and
Richard. The former was the grand-
father of the subject of our sketch. In
the history of Chester, by Benjamin
Chase, it is related of him that in his
youth he paid his addresses to a young
lady of Scotch-Irish descent named
Knox, a daughter of one of the leading
families of the town. Between these
families there was a feeling of hostility.
While driving the cattle in the field for
his father one day the old gentleman
asked young Nathaniel if he intended to
marry that Irish girl. " Yes, father,"
was the reply. "Then understand,"
said he, " you can never share in my
property." " Very well," said the youth,
" I will take care of myself," and drop-
ping his goad-stick in the furrow, he left
the field and bis home, and went out to
make his own way in the world. He
served for a time in the Revolution-
ary army and attained the rank of Cap-
tain. Having married the young lady
of his choice, Anna Knox, he established
his home in a log cabin in that part of
the old town of Chester now embraced
in Hooksett, upon the very site now oc-

GEN. NATT HEAD.

cupied by the residence of his grandson.
He prospered in life and accumulated a
handsome property. He was a man of
great energy and independence of char-
acter, as well as sound practical judg-
ment, and, holding the position of Jus-
tice of the Peace, as well as the confi-
dence of the people throughout the com-
munity, he became practically the law-
yer for all the surrounding region, and
was largely engaged in the settlement of
disputes and the transaction of legal
business for his neighbors and towns-
men. He had nine children, five sons
and four daughter. Of these, Samuel,
the eldest, was the proprietor of the
celebrated " Head Tavern " in Hooksett.
John, the youngest of the five sons, and
the father of the subject of our sketch,
remained upon the homestead. He
married, in 1791, Anna Brown, a daugh-
ter of William Brown, a retired sea cap-
tain, and sister of Hon. Hiram Brown,
the first mayor of Manchester, now a
resident of Virginia, and father of the
wife of Hon. Isaac W. Smith of the Su-
preme Court. He became an influencial
citizen of the town, was a successful farm-
er, and engaged in the manufacture and
sale of lumber. He was prominent in
the militia, and attained the rank of
Colonel. He died in middle life, August,
1836, leaving five children to the care of
his widow, a woman of rare mental pow-
ers, and executive ability surpassing
most men, who proved herself fully
equal to the task of administering the
large estate, and managing and even en-
larging the extensive business in which
her husband had been engaged, as well
as rearing her children to become true
and earnest men and women, and valua-
ble members of society.

Natt Head was the eldest son, and
third child, two sisters being older and
two brothers younger than himself. The
eldest of the sisters married the late Col.
Josiah Stevens, formerly of Concord,
who died in Manchester a few years
since; while the younger, now deceased,
was the wife of Hall B. Emery of Pem-
broke. The eldest of his two brothers,
John A. Head, has resided many years
at the West, and is now Auditor of

Broome County, Iowa. He was for
some time engaged as a contractor in the
construction of the Northwestern rail-
road, and subsequently several years
Superintendent of the Iowa division of
that road. The youngest brother, Wil-
liam F., still resides in Hooksett, living in
a substantial residence not far from that
of Natt, the two having all along been
in partnership in the various operations
in which they have been engaged, farm-
ing, lumbering, brick-making, contract-
ing, etc., or rather they have done busi-
ness in common, never dividing a dollar,
but each using what he needed or
pleased, the interest of the other broth-
er and sisters having been purchased by
Natt when he became of age. His father
died when Natt was but eight years old,
and the advantages afforded by the dis-
trict school, supplemented by a few terms
attendance at Pembroke Academy, fur-
nished all the education he secured, aside
from that obtained through discipline of
active life, in the various departments of
labor and of business in which he has
been engaged, Few men in the State
are more exteusively engaged in agri-
cultural operations, and certainly no one
has done more to promote the interests
of the cause of agriculture. The Head
farm contains some two hundred acres
of cultivated land, upon which is cut, an-
nually, from two hundred to two hund-
red and fifty tons of hay. Altogether,
the brothers own some fifteen hundred
acres of land, which includes several
valuable tracts of timber land in other
towns, one of 600 acres lying in the town
of Groton.

The lumber business in which their fa-
ther was engaged has been continued,
fron 500,000 to 1,000,000 feet of lumber
being manufactured annually at their
mills. As manufacturers of brick, how-
ever, they have attained their greatest
celebrity, their business in this line be-
ing the most extensive in the State, and
the quality of their brick unsurpassed.
This business was commenced by their
mother after her husband's decease, soon
after the beginning of mill building at
Manchester, which opened a ready mar-
ket for vast quantities of this valuable

GEN. NATT. HEAD.

building material, for the manufacture
of which the extensive beds of superior
clay along the river at this point
afford superior facilities. They manu-
facture from three to six millions of
brick per annum, selling the same in all
parts of New England. Ten millions
were furnished by them for the construc-
tion of the new Massachusetts State
Prison at Concord, and several millions
for the Lawrence Water Works. In
their extensive operations of farming,
lumbering and brick-making, altogether,
the brothers Head give .constant employ-
ment to nearly two hundred men, with
thirty horses and several yokes of oxen,
all of which are kept on the farm, upon
which there are also more than a dozen
dwellings, occupied by the families of
those of their workmen who have been
long in their employ.

Aside from, or supplementary to, the
extensive business already mentioned,
Gen. Head has been largely engaged
upon contracts for the construction of
railroads and of buildings. A large por-
tion of the work on the Suncook Val-
ley railroad was done by him, as well as
much upon other roads. The firm of
Head & Dowst, contractors and builders,
of Manchester, well known as among the
most extensive building firms of the city,
embraces the General and his brother,
whose enterprise, energy, and ample re-
sources have contributed largely to the
success of the firm.

Gen. Head inherited from his ancestors
a strong taste for military affairs, which,
with musical talents of high order, early
led him into prominence as a military
musician. He became leader of the
Hooksett Brass Band at sixteen years of
age. This, by the way, was the first
band that ever played in the city of Man-
chester, its first visit being on the occa-
sion of a grand Fourth of July celebra-
tion at Amoskeag in 1844, the first year
of his leadership. He was subsequently,
for a number of years, a member of the
Manchester Cornet Band. In 1847 he be-
came fife major in the Eleventh Regi-
ment of the State Militia, and served four
years in that capacity. He was also
chief bugler in the celebrated organiza-

tion known as the Governor's Horse
Guards. He has been many years an ac-
tive member of the Amoskeag Veterans ,
and commanded that famous battalion
four years, from 1869 to 1872, inclusive.
He is also a member of the Ancient and
Honorable Artillery of Boston, and an
honorary member of the Boston Lancers.
In the position of Adjutant General of
the State, to which he was appointed by
Gov. Gilmore in 1864, and which he held
until 1870. Gen. Head may truly be said
to have won his greatest reputation, as
well as the lasting regard of a large por-
tion of our people, especially the soldier
element. He came iuto the administra-
tion of this office at a time when its du-
ties were manifold and great, and to their
proper fulfilment constant and varied ef-
fort and executive ability of high order
were absolutely essential. It is but just
to say that he gave his best energies to
the work of the office, and although find-
ing its affairs in a most unsatisfactory
and perplexing condition, by constant
and persevering effort he placed the
same in systematic order. In Waite's
"New Hampshire in the Rebellion," it
is said of Gen. Head, referring to his ad-
ministration of this office, "that on as-
suming its duties he found the department
very incomplete, but little matter having
been collected relating to the outfit of
the troops and their achievements in the
field, although New Hampshire had, up
to that time, sent to the war twenty-six
thousand soldiers. In fact, not a complete
set of muster-in rolls of any regiment
could be found in the office. In the face
of these obstacles and discouragements,
and with no appropriation to draw from,
Gen. Head at once entered upon the du-
ties of his position, employing upon his
own responsibility three clerks, and pro-
curing the necessary outfit of the office,
trusting in the Legislature totreimburse
him, which it not only promptly and
cheerfully did, but made all additional
appropriations for the department that
were asked for. During the remainder
of the war no State in the Union had a
more faithful, efficient and popular Ad-
jutant General than New Hampshire.
The clerical duties of the office were per-

100

GEN. NATT. HEAD.

formed in an admirable manner, and the
method by which the records of our sol-
diers were persistently hunted up and
placed on file, and the order and system
exhibited in carrying on and preserving
the extensive and valuable correspond-
ence of the department were worthy of
the highest praise." The reports of the
department during Gen. Head's adminis-
tration of the office are voluminous and
complete, embracing the record of every
officer and soldier who entered the ser-
vice of the State during the war, with a
sketch of the history and operations of
each of the several regiments, and also
embodying a complete military history
of New Hampshire from the first settle-
ment of the province to the outbreak of
the Rebellion. The preservation and ar-
rangement of the battle-flags of the New
Hampshire regiments, in the rotunda of
the State House, is one of the numerous
evidences of Gen. Head's thoughtful care
in the administration of this office.

Aside from his experience in the Adju-
tant General's office, Gen. Head has been
considerably engaged in public affairs.
He has served his town most efficiently
in various official capacities, and was a
representative therefrom in the Legisla-
ture for the years 1801 and 1862. He was
a candidate for the State Senate in old
District No. Two, in 1875, when the fa-
mous controversy over the spelling of
his name upon the ballots occurred, and
was eleeted to the Senate from that Dis-
trict the following year, and re-elected
in 1877, when he was chosen President
of the Senate, and discharged the duties
of the office acceptably and efficiently.

For several years past the friends of
Gen. Head in the Republican party have
advocated his nomination as a candidate
for Governor, and at the Convention in
January, 1877, when Gov. Prescott was
nominated, he received a very flattering
vote, leading all candidates except Pres-
cott. This fact, along with his universal
popularity, gave his name such prestige
before the Convention in September last,
that, although the friends of Hon.
Cnarles H. Bell made a vigorous effort,
aided by a large proportion of the party
press throughout the State, to secure the

nomination of that gentleman, Gen.
Head was nominated by a decided ma-
jority upon the first ballot, and, although
on account of the third party, or so-
called Greenback movement, it was
scarcely expected by his most sanguine
friends that he would be chosen by the
popular vote, he received a majority of
four hundred and eighty-eight votes over
all, and will succeed Gov. Prescott in the
gubernatorial chair, if he lives until June
next. It is safe to remark in this con-
nection that no man, not even excepting
Gov. Prescott himself, has ever entered
upon the duties of the executive office in
New Hampshire with a more extensive
acquaintance with the people, or a more
intimate knowledge of their practical
wants and requirements than Gen. Head
enjoys.

He is one of the Directors of the Sun-
cook Valley Railroad, in which enter-
prise he was one of the active movers.
He is also a Director of the New Hamp-
shire Fire Insurance Company, and Pres-
ident of the China Savings Bank at Sun-
cook. He has been a member of the
N. H. Historical Society for ten or twelve
years past, and has taken a strong inter-
est in its work and progress. He is also
an active member of the Manchester Art
Association. In Free Masonry he is both
active and prominent, being a member of
Washington Lodge, Mt. Horeb Royal
Arch Chapter, Adoniram Council and
Trinity Commandery of Manchester. He
is also a member of the Supreme Coun-
cil, having received all the degrees of
the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite,
and all in the Rite of Memphis to the
94th. He was recently made an "hono-
rary member of the "Mass Consistory
S.\ P.-. R.\ S.-. 32° Boston." He is
also a member of the Independent Order
of Odd Fellows, belonging to Friendship
Lodge of Hooksett and Hildreth En-
campment of Suncook. Aside from these
connections, he is a member of Oriental
Lodge, Knights of Pythias, and Alpha
Lodge, Knights of Honor, of Manches-
ter, and Excelsior Temple, of Concord ;
is a member of Pinnacle Lodge of Good
Templars at Hooksett, and Master of
Hooksett Grange of the the Patrons of

BIRTHPLACE OF GEN. STARK.

101

Husbandry, which organization he was
one of the pioneers in forming.

As Director and President of the State
Agricultural Society* which latter posi-
tion he has held constantly since 1S68,
Gen. Head has labored zealously to pro •
mote the welfare of the farming interest
in the State, and the success which has
attended the annual exhibitions of the
Society proves conclusively that his ef-
forts have not been in vain. He origin-
ated the movement looking to the hold-
ing of Farmers' Conventions in New
Hampshire, the first holden in the State,
and we believe the first in the country,
having been gotten up at Manchester in
1868, mainly through his efforts and un-
der his direction. At this meeting prom-
inent friends of agriculture throughout
New England and New York were pres-
ent and made addresses, and much was
done to give fresh impetus to agricul-

tural progress in the State. In 1869 he
was appointed by the Governor and
Council one of the Trustees of the State
Agricultural College.

Gen. Head was united in marriage,
Nov. 18, 1863, with Miss Abbie M. San-
ford of Lowell, Mass., by whom he has
had three children, two of whom, both
daughters — Annie twelve and Alice eight
years of age — are living. He is now
just fifty years of age, having been born
May 20, 1828, and is in the full prime of
his physical and mental powers. That
he may live long, not only to enjoy the
comforts and honors which he has won
by his constant and varied labors and
faithful discharge of duty, but also to
render the State and his fellow-men
many more years of valuable service, is
the hope of his thousands of friends in
all parts of the Granite State, and be-
yond her borders.

BIRTHPLACE OF GEN. STARE.

[The following article was recently published as a communication in the Boston Journal.
Since its publication the correctness of the writer's assertion has been questioned by the Man-
chester Mirror, which paper states that a great-granddaughter of Gen. Stark— Mrs. N. E. Morrill
— is now lining in that city, and that she knows it to have been generally understood in her
childhood, that her illustrious ancestor, whom she well remembers, was born upon the Atlantic
Ocean during his mother's passage to this country. That his early childhood was passed in the
territory now known as Derry, is unquestionably true, and probably upon the spot described by
the writer.]

Seven cities of Greece contended for
the honor of Homer's birthplace. More
than half this number of towns are em-
ulous of the honor of having given to the
world New Hampshire's greatest hero.
Londonderry, Derryfield, Derry, the
mythical Nuffield and substantial Man-
chester, are by various authorities as-
signed as the place where John Stark
first saw the light of day. Edward Ev-
erett, in his biography of Stark, solemn-
ly gives Nutfield as his birthplace, the
truth being that there never was any Nut-
field for anybody to be born in. That
was as unreal a name as " Molly Stark,"
though both were properly used on oc-
casion.

Now a familiarity with Everett's biogra-
phy of Gen. Stark is as much a part of a
New Hampshire boy's education as the
Ten Commandments and Lord's Prayer.

It ought to be just as familiar to every boy
in the whole country ; but Everett, in
that case, needs to be as correct as Scrip-
ture itself. As now pnuted he certainly
is not. A brief recital of the history of
the naming of these different towns will
set this matter right and clear up the con-
confusion now existing as to the birth-
place of Gen. Stark. There was an in-
definite; and extensive tract of land in the
region of what is now Manchester, and
to the southeast of it, called before it
was settled by the whites, Nutfield, on
account of the abundance of walnuts,
chestnuts and butternuts which it pro-
duced. The original settlers of London-
derry, arriving on this tract in 1719,
called their settlement after this familiar
name; but when Stark was born, in 1728,
a town had been incorporated, which
they named Londonderry from their old

102

BIRTHPLACE OF GEN. STARK.

home of that name in Ireland, they hav-
ing come from Scotland through Ireland
to America. The settlers, previous to
their incorporation as a town in 1722, had
organized for mutual government and
protection, and this organization was
called Nuffield, but it was never a town
for any purpose of taxation or for hold-
ing town meetings.

Londonderry as incorporated in 1722
was a very much larger tract of land
than is now covered by its territory. In
1751 Derryfield was chartered, being
formed from parts of Londonderry and
Chester and the whole of Hurrytown.
In 1810 the name Derryfield was changed
to Manchester, and in 1846 Manchester
became a city, parts of other towns being
added to it afterward. In 1742 the par-
ish of Windham was incorporated by the
Provincial Assembly from the territory
of Londonderry, a part of which wss af-
terward annexed to Salem, and the rest
became the present town of Windham.
A part of Hudson once belonged to Lon-
donderry, though it is not intended here
to narrate in full the partition of Lon-
donderry. It is enough to add that in
1827 Derry was set off and became a
town by itself, and that it was in what is
now Derry that Stark was born. Not
unfairly, though, can all the places
named, and possibly more, claim some-
thing of the prestige which properly at-
taches to the birthplace of so distin-
guished a character as General Stark
proved to be. Mr. Everett needs not to
be corrected when he says of the services
of General Stark that they were of the
highest character and of an importance
not easily surpassed, those of Washing-
ton excepted, u by any achievements of
any other leader in the army of the Rev-
olution."

A visit to Derry was recently made by
the writer, a resident of Bennington,
Vermont, and, of course, interested in
everything connected with the hero
of the battle of Bennington, a short ac-
count of which may interest the readers
of The Journal. Through the kindness
of the corresponding secretary of the
old Londonderry Historical and Anti-
quarian Society — one of those modest

and useful societies which are doing so
much to preserve our early history — he
found himself on one of these bright au-
tumnal mornings, in company with a de-
scendant of Stark, residing in Manches-
ter, at the Windham station of the Man-
chester and Lawrence railroad, ready to
take conveyance to the southwestern part
of Derry near that section of the town
known as " Derry Dock." The historic
spot of Stark's birthplace is on the farm
of Mr. John H. Low, and is about two
miles from the Windham depot on a road
running east of and parallel, or nearly
so, with the Londonderry turnpike. It
is a short distance, say one quarter of a
mile, north of the crossing of the Nashua
& Rochester Railroad, on the left side of
the road, in a wooded nook, a secluded
and romantic spot, facing extensive
meadows — probably the very meadows
where a marauding party from Massa-
chusetts were put to route by the early
settlers, headed by their minister, a true
McGregor, who did no discredit on this
occasion to the fighting [qualities of the
noted Highland chieftain of whose coun-
try he was and whose name he bore.

As these meadows were a part of the
" one thousand acre wildernesse farme"
which Massachusetts granted to her Gov.
Leverett, inhabitants of Massachusetts
claimed and exercised the right to mow
them. Hence the dispute, which with the
Scotch-Irish refugees in possession, could
result in but one way.

A ravine runs up from the road on
each side of the place where the house
stood. The site itself is plainly marked
by the cellar walls, which are almost in-
tact. A pine tree a foot and a half in di-
ameter grows up out of the cellar ; a large
elm spreads its graceful branches just
behind, and the remnants of an apple
orchard are scattered about among the
frequent chestnut, walnut and other
trees which more than half cover the
place. The house evidently faced not to
the road but to the south. In what was
its front is a large rock on which, after a
survey of the spot and its surroundings,
we partook of a lunch provided for us by
our host. With a wise forethought our
antiquarian caterer had appropriately

CONTOOCOOK RIVER.

103

brought with him a cork-screw of an an-
tique manufacture, found on the battle-
field of Bennington, and doubtless once
the property of an officer captured or
killed in the battle. With this he drew
the cork from a bottle of rare old cider,
the contents of which were even more
appropriately offered us in a wine glass
which once was "Molly Stark's." We
had read of the nectar drank at the ban-
quetting tables of the gods, but what
was that to a glass of foaming New
England cider — the cup that cheers but
not inebriates — quaffed at the birthplace .
of John Stark, from a glass that once his
own hand had filled ; filled, too, from his
own decanter, and perhaps a decanter of
that old Tobago rum which John Lang-
don gave to raise funds for the Benning-
ton campaign ; or perhaps of that which
Stark himself ordered from Charlestown,
Number Four, as a part of his ammuni-
tion with which he fought and won the
Bennington victory. It will be remem-
bered in explanation, that Stark, at
Charlestowry, on the Connecticut river,
discovered that rum — so necessary in
those days to any great undertaking —
was scarce where he was going, and or-
dered a supply to be forwarded. It was
forwarded and used.

The attention of the artist should be
called to this spot, full of such historic
interest. As there is no house upon it

now, and as aside from its associations it
possesses a beauty of its own, the con-
tinuance of which in this world of chang e
cannot be assured, no time should be lost
in obtaining a sketch. Its authenticity
as the birthplace of Stark is believed to
be beyond question. As time goes on ,
and the past recedes further and further
from our view, the value of all such
places identified with our early times is
proportionately enhanced, and it is
therefore important that their exact lo-
cality be securely fixed, and their ap-
pearance transferred to canvas and pr e-
served.

We lingered about the place for a short
time enjoying in addition to what of th e
past the occasion had brought us, the
fine Indian summer day which nature
had given us for our visit. Then, turn-
ing away, we journeyed on through Der-
ry, the upper village of which gave
us a magnificent view of an extende d
prospect, Wachusett, Monadnock and
Kearsarge, with the wide expanse of
country between being all embraced in
the range of vision at*the same time. A
charming day, and one long to be remem-
bered, was ended, after parting with our
kind host, by a short ride to Manchester,
and by one of us, at least — to bring him
back to the nineteenth century— a politi-
cal meeting in the evening. C. m. b.

CONTOOCOOE BIVER.

BY EDNA DEAN PROCTOR.
[This poem is from " Light at Eventide," a paper made up of contributions from New Hamp-
shire authors and writers of note, and published in aid of the " Home for the Aged," a charitable
institution projected at Concord.]

Of all the streams that seek the sea
By mountain pass, or sunny lea,
Now where is one that dares to vie
With clear Contoocook, swift and shy?
Monadnock's child, of suow drifts born,
The snows of many a winter morn,
And many a midnight dark and still,
Heaped higher, whiter, day by day,
To melt, at last, with suns of May,
And steal, in tiny fall and rill,
Down the long slopes of granite gray ;
Or, filter slow through seam and cleft

104 CONTOOCOOK RIVER.

When frost and storm the rock have reft,
To bubble cool in sheltered springs
Where the lone red-bird dips his wings,
And the tired fox that gains its brink
Stoops, safe from hound and horn, to drink.
And rills and springs, grown broad and deep,
Unite through gorge and glen to sweep
In roaring brooks that turn and take
The over-floods of pool and lake,
Till, to the fields, the hills deliver
Contoocook's bright and brimming river!

O have you seen, from Hillsboro town
How fast its tide goes hurrying down,
With rapids now, and now a leap
Past giant boulders, black and steep,
Plun ged in mid water, fain to keep
Its current from the meadows green?
But; flecked with foam, it speeds along;
And not the birch trees silvery sheen,
Nor the soft lull of whispering pines,
Nor hermit thrushes, fluting low,
Nor ferns, nor cardinal flowers that glow
Where clematis, the fairy, twines,
Can stay its course, or still its song ;
Ceaseless it flows till, round its bed,
The vales of Henniker are spread,
Their banks all set with golden grain,
Or stately trees whose vistas gleam —
A double forest in the stream ;
And, winding 'neath tbe pine-crowned hill
■ That overhangs the village plain,
By sunny reaches, broad and still,
It nears the bridge that spans its tide —
The bridge whose arches low and wide
It ripples through — and should you lean
A moment there, no lovelier scene
On England's Wye, or Scotland's Tay,
Would charm your gaze, a summer's day.

And on it glides, by grove and glen,
Dark woodlands, and the homes of men,
With now a ferry, now a mill ;
Till, deep and calm, its waters fill
The channels round that gem of isles
Sacred to captives' woes and wiles,
And, gleeful half, half eddying back,
Blend with the lordly Merrimack ;
And Merrimack whose tide is strong
Rolls gently, with its waves along,
Monadnock's stream that, coy and fair,
Has come, its larger life to share,
And, to the sea, doth safe deliver
Contoocook's bright and brimming river !

Brooklyn, N. J.

THE WIDOW'S MISTAKE.

105

THE WIDOW'S MISTAKE.

BY HELEN M. RUSSELL.

The widow Montgomery's snug little
house was looking its best. The " Fall
cleaning "' was all completed, and from
the kitchen to the attic everything was
as neat as two energetic hands could
make it — while the widow herself,
dressed in a neat home suit of brown al-
paca, stood watching, from the sitting-
room window, the dead leaves which
were blown about by the chill November
wind. She was a happy looking little
woman, with jet black hair and eyes, and
an unmistakable air of gentility about
her. The time had been when she was
the petted daughter of wealthy parents,
but the wealth had " taken wings," — the
fond parents had died, and she had mar-
ried Alvin Montgomery, a plain carpen-
ter, for the sake of a homeland because
she knew he loved her. In short, she
" married in haste to repent at leisure."
The young husband had built the cottage
and taken his bride home soon after their
marriage, and Hattie Montgomery had
tried hard to be content ; but she found
this life very different from what had
once been hers, and when death stepped
into the home circle and took from
thence her husband, she could not mourn
with any deep and lasting grief. It is
true she missed him, and really mourned
for him, because she thought it her duty
so to do, and because he had always been
kind to her, but when she laid aside her
robes at the end of a year, people said
she laid aside her regrets likewise.
Whether she did or not is nothing to
me — I have only to tell her story in the
fewest words possible. r Just across the
way from the widow's cottage stood a
large white house, with long piazzas and
deep bay windows, which quite threw
into the shade the little cottage in ques-
tion, but Mrs. Montgomery cared little
for this. To be sure, she worked hard,
and the sewing machine was seldom al-

lowed to remain idle long at a time, but
she somehow managed to find time to
read her favorite books and practice her
favorite selections upon the piano, which
was the only memento she possessed of
olden days. She also found time to build
castles in the air, which, like all castles
of a similar nature, tumbled to pieces as
soon as they were built.

There was on»thing which Mrs. Mont-
gomery particularly disliked, and that
was matchmaking. "' In ten cases out of
a hundred such marriages proved unhap-
py," she often declared, and as her own
marriage was reckoned in with the hun-
dred, she evidently knew whereof she
spoke. It is a pity that people cannot
find pleasure of a less questionable char,
acter. There are unhappy marriages
enough which people enter into of their
own free will, without those which are,
in one sense of the word, directly
brought about by interested parties, who,
when they discover the evil they have
wrought, lift their hands in surprise and
exclaim : " Well, I am sure I am not to
blame. I told him [or herj to consider
everything, and then do as he [or she]
thought best, and if they really decided
to marry, never to blame me if the mar-
riage proved otherwise than happy."
Of course they are not to blame — no one
would think of blaming them ; and they
can go on their way with a elear con-
science, and perhaps do the same thing
over again, and, quite as likely as not,
with the same result. In spite of her
horror of matchmaking, however, Mrs.
Montgomery had a scheme in her little
head that she thought a very wise one.
In the great house across the way, pre-
viously mentioned, lived Lester Pierce.
He was a bachelor somewhere in the for-
ties, wealthy, handsome and honorable,
a noble specimen of what a man should
be. For over ten years he had lived

106

THE WIDOW'S MISTAKE.

there alone, with the exception of his
housekeeper and her husband, and al-
though he bore his years lightly, the sil-
ver was beginning to creep into the
brown hair and long silken beard. " Time
he had a wife," the little widow had said
many times to herself, and if he was not
disposed to help himself to one, why, she
would try and select one for him, only it
must be brought about very quietly.

In the city of L . lived her only

brother. He had once been quite
wealthy, but the hard times and sudden
failures had swept away his property,
and now, with a sick wife and family of
seven children, he found life to be a
round of toil and trouble. His eldest
child, a daughter, was very beautiful —
so at least thought the widow when she
received a letter containing an account
of her brother's misfortunes, together
with a photograph of her niece, Ida
Hartwell, and there at once sprang up in
her wise little head a scheme whereby
she could secure a home for Ida — and a
wife for Lester Pierce. Not for worlds
would she have had either party think
she was matchmaking, however, so she
decided to write and invite Ida to pass
the winter with her. The letter had been
written, dispatched and answered, the
invitation accepted, and she was now
awaiting the arrival of the train upon
which she expected her neice to come.

u It is time I was on my way to the de-
pot," soliloquized Mrs. Montgomery at
length, turning away from the window,
and placing upon her head a brown vel-
vet hat, and throwing over her shoulders
a warm shawl. " I hope I shall like Ida,
and I hope Lester Pierce will like her,
too. It will be so nice to have a relative
live so near me. Oh, how cold it is ! "
she exclaimed, as she left the house, lock-
ing the front door securely behind her.

A brisk walk of a quarter of a mile
brought her to the depot just as the cars
steamed slowly up to the platform. Hur-
rying forward, she eagerly scanned eve-
ry face as the passengers alighted one by
one. At length she saw the sweet face
of her niece, and in a moment more she
had taken the small handsin her own aud
welcomed her in the most cordial manner.

"Are you my Aunt Hattie?" ques-
tioned the softest, sweetest voice Mrs.
Montgomery had ever heard.

" Yes, Ida, and I am so glad to see you.
Come this way and we will find your
trunk. Have you a check ? "

" Yes, here it is, Auntie," replied the
girl, as she hastened to assist her aunt in
securing her baggage.

Fifteen minutes later and Mrs. Mont-
gomery, Ida and the baggage were snug-
ly ensconced in the little cottage, having
been transferred there by the "hotel
team," and the widow silently contem-
plated her niece as she helped to remove
the girl's wrappings. She was very
lovely, with an innocent, doll-like ex-
pression in the pure young face. Rings
of sunny hair rippled away from the
somewhat low forehead, and hung down
over her slender shoulders. Her eyes
were dark blue, with a merry, roguish
light in their depths. Her face was
quite pale — too colorless for perfect
health, thought the widow, as she bus-
tled about to prepare refreshments for
her guest.

" I am so glad you sent for me, Aunt
Hattie. I mean to be as happy as the
day is long here with you. You must
let me assist you, so that I shall not feel
myself a burden to you, and then I can
stay as long as I like, can I not? "

" Indeed, what can you do to assist
me, my dear? Your company will more
than repay me if I like you as well as I
think I will," returned her aunt, as she
led the way to the cosy dining room,
where a delicious supper awaited them.
" Oh, Aunt Hattie, how nice and pleas-
ant it is here ! " said Ida, when the win-
dow shades were at length drawn, the
lamp lighted, and they had seated them-
selves beside the round table which
stood in the center of the room. "Do
you know I fancied you were old and
gray, and lived in a horrid, old-fashioned
village with rickety, tumble-down houses,
your own the most of all? I must write
to papa to-morrow and tell him how sur-
prised and happy I am."

"Your ideas of country life were un-
doubtedly as unpleasant as the picture
your imagination drew of me and my

THE
*

WIDOW'S MISTAKE.

107

surroundings," said her aunt with a
smile. " But did not your father en-
lighten you in regard to my being old
and gray? " she inquired.

" No, he only laughed when I told him
that I knew you were old and cross, and
said I must come and see for myself," re-
turned Ida.

Then followed questions and answers
concerning family affairs, and it was
quite late when they at length retired for
the night. As days passed on, the young
girl's delight by no means diminished.
The brisk walks which her aunt urged
her to take every day, together with her
happy spirits, soon brought roses to take
the place of lilies in the sweet face. How
to bring about a meeting between Lester
Pierce and Ida now became a matter of
concern to Mrs. Montgomery, for, as she
was but little acquainted with that gen-
tleman and seldom met him, there were
not so many opportunities for so doing
as one would suppose ; but fate at length
took the matter in hand. It happened
on this wise.

One day Ida entered the sitting-room,
where her aunt sat at work, and hastily
throwing her hat and sacque upon the
nearest chair, she waltzed around the
room once or twice, finally stopping and
throwing her arms around Mrs. Mont-
gomery's neck, and giving her a kiss on
either cheek.

''What has happened to you, Ida?"
said the widow, disengaging herself
from the girl's grasp, and turning around
in surprise.

" Oh, Aunt Hattie, I am so surprised
and delighted ! I was returning from 'the
post office, and was just at the street
crossing this side of Johnson & Hall's,
when I heard my name called. I turned
around and saw a gentleman and lady
coming rapidly towards me. At first I
did not recognize the lady, but as they
drew nearer I saw to my delight that it
was my old schoolmate and dearest
friend, Susie Pierce. I have not met her
before for two years. She was with her
uncle, Lester Pierce, and talks of stop-
ping with him through the winter. I in-
vited them to call, and Mr. Pierce said,
turning to Susie, ' My dear, I am under

great obligations to you if by your com-
ing I can form the acquaintance of Mrs.
Montgomery and her niece,' and then,
not waiting for her to reply, he thanked
me very politely and said they would call
this evening, if agreeable. Of course
you don't care if they do come," con-
cluded the girl, as she raised her hat and
sacque from the floor, where they had
fallen during her pirouette around the
room.

" Certainly not, Ida; I would be very
glad to know your friend, and to become
better acquainted with her uncle," re-
plied Mrs. Montgomery with a smile.

Never in her own girlish days had she
taken half the pride in herself that she
did that evening in her niece. Certainly
the girl had never looked more lovely,
and when the expected guests arrived it
was no wonder that Lester Pierce's eyes
rested in admiration upon her.

" You will lay aside your wrappings,
Susie, and pass the evening with us," in-
sisted Ida, after introducing the young
lady to her aunt. " This must not be a
formal call, for I have so much to say to
you."

" I promised uncle that I would attend
the lecture with him," replied Susie,
turning toward her uncle with a smile.

" I will excuse you, if such be your
wish, my dear, and will call for you as
I return home," replied Mr. Pierce.

" Thank you, uncle, I will stop, I
think, as I really have no desire to attend
the lecture," said Susie, as she threw
aside her hat and shawl and seated her-
self in the easy chair Ida had placed at
her disposal.

Susie Pierce was as plain as Ida Hart-
well was beautiful, yet one seemed to for-
get the lack of beauty in the dark face
when they came to know her intimately.
She was a brunette, and the only beauty
her face afforded was her large, lustrous
black eyes. There was so much soul in
them (if I may use the expression) that
instinctively one felt the beauty of the
soul which looked out from their inmost
depths. She was dressed in a black
cashmere, relieved only by snowy lace at
the neck and wrists.

Mr. Pierce attended the lecture. The

108

THE WIDOW'S MISTAKE.

evening passed very pleasantly to the
young ladies in recalling their school-
days, while Mrs. Montgomery busied
herself with her work.

It was ten o'clock when Mr. Pierce
called for Susie, and Mrs. Montgomery
managed to make his call so pleasant
that it was nearly eleven when they at
length rose to take their leave. Mr.
Pierce invited the ladies to a party at his
house on the following Tuesday eve.

"The old house needs warming up
with young faces and happy hearts. I
have lived alone so long that the very
walls have become like myself — desolate
and lonely. I thank the good angel that
put the thought in Susie's heart to visit
me."

" Then she came unexpectedly," said
Mrs. Montgomery.

" Yes, I knew nothing of it until she
came into my reading room yesterday
afternoon," returned the gentleman.

" His reading room, as he calls it, is a
perfect bachelor's den," said Susie, with
a smile.

" Don't slander me to my good neigh-
bors, Susie," said he, a smile lighting up
his somewhat sad face ; then turning to
Ida, he said ; " Don't be ceremonious,
Miss Hartwell, but call upon us when-
ever you wish — the oftener the better.
I expect Susie will get homesick and
leave me at the end of a fortnight."

Susie immediately declared her inten-
tion of remaining until her uncle should
send her away. Then, after a cordial
good-night, the door closed upon their
retreating forms.

" I can see that he is charmed with
Ida already," said Mrs. Montgomery to
herself as she retired to rest that night.
" I really believe that in less than six
months she will be his wife."

Some may think that the widow was
strangely disinterested as regarded her-
self, and perhaps she was so. Certainly
she had never had a thought that there
was any chance for her. She had some-
how missed her chance in life for true
happiness — if there had really ever ex-
isted one — and she fancied herself done
with that sort of thing forever. She was
not sure, even, that she had a heart like

other women, and consequently was sat-
isfied to let matters remain as they were.

The night of the party came and
passed. Nothing quite so grand had
ever before taken place in the village of

A . From the night of the party

there was a continual round of gayety —
parties and (when the snow came) sleigh-
rides, festivals, skating parties, etc.
Lester Pierce seemed to enjoy them all
with all the zest of a younger man. The
widow laughingly shook her head at all
entreaties and remained at home, while
Ida and Susie remained inseparable
friends and depended always upon Les-
ter Pierce as their escort. Scarcely a
day passed that he did not call at the
cottage, and it had come to be an ac-
knowledged fact that he found great at-
traction there — people being divided in
their opinions as to which should prove
the favored one. Thus the winter passed
quickly away.

One evening in the early spring-time
Ida and Susie were invited to attend a
select party of young ladies to see about
arranging matters for a festival. Mrs.
Montgomery sits alone in her sitting-
room. Her work has fallen in a heap on
the floor, and her head rests against the
back of her easy chair in a weary, listless
way, quite the reverse from her usual
energetic manner. In fact, she has
somehow changed since we first saw her.
Her round, happy face has lost its round-
ness, and there is a look in the black
eyes that tells of a mind not quite at
ease. Suddenly she hears a step with-
out, and then the bell rings a quick, pe-
culiar peal, the sound of which brings
the color to her face in a scarlet wave.

" He has come to ask my consent to
pay his addresses to Ida. I ought to be
glad, but I am afraid I am not," she mur-
mured, as she hastened to open the door.
As she had supposed, Lester Pierce stood
before her, and she welcomed him with
a smile and cordial good evening. At
her invitation he entered the house, and,
after removing his hat, he seated himself
with the air of one very much at home.
A half hour passed in general conversa-
tion, when he suddenly drew his chair
nearer that of Mrs. Montgomery, and

CONGRESSIONAL PAPEKS. NO. Ill— THE " THIRD HOUSE." 109

said in a low voice, his eyes resting upon
her face with an eagerness unusual to
him :

" Mrs. Montgomery, you and I have
been very good friends for the past
three months, and I have long been wish-
ing to tell you that I wish much to be-
come something more than a friend.
You have certainly noticed my frequent
visits here, and have doubtless guessed
the state of my feelings. I am not much
given to love-making," a smile passing
over his face, "but I wish mnch to know
if my suit is to meet with success."

He paused, waiting for her to speak,
but as she did not, he continued :

" Susie goes away very soon now, and
then I shall be more lonely than ever be-
fore, and — well, some say I have lost the
best years of my life, wasted them living
alone, and perhaps I have. I am not a
man to love lightly, and once having
given my love away, it must be for all
time. Will you tell me if that love is in
vain?"

" Indeed, Mr. Pierce, I cannot tell
you, for although I have long known the
state of your feelings, I can form no sort
of an idea as regards Ida's. At times I
have thought she cared for you ; at oth-
ers I have thought she didn't," replied
Mrs. Montgomery quietly, raising her
eyes to her companion's face. He was
looking at her in surprise, and for a mo-
ment made no reply ; then he said slowly :

" Is it possible that my visits here have
been misinterpreted? My friend, it is
your dear face that has been the attrac-
tion, and you are the one I love and have
loved since long before Ida came here,
although I was but little acquainted with
you. As for Ida, she is as dear to me as
my own niece, which is saying much,
but if I do not call Hattie Montgomery
wife, I shall never call any one by that
title. Can you give me any hope, Hat-
tie?"

At his words the color had receded
from her face, and her head had fallen
upon her clasped hands. The surprise
was so complete, the reaction so great —
for she had discovered during the past
few weeks that she had a heart — that
several moments passed ere she could ut-
ter a word, and then I expect she did a
very foolish deed for a woman of her
years, for she laid her head upon Les-
ter's shoulder and actually burst into
tears. They were soon wiped away,
however, and when the young ladies re-
turned home they found «a very happy
couple awaiting them.

It was not until years had come and
gone, and she was a happy wife and
mother, that Hattie Pierce told of her
first and last attempt at matchmaking,
but I think she never owned, even to her-
self, how glad she was^that the attempt
had so signally failed.

CONGRESSIONAL PAPERS. NO. Ill— THE " THIRD HOUSE."

BT G. H. JENNESS.

In the popular mind nearly all con-
gressional legislation is supposed to be
more or less unduly influenced by the or-
ganization known as "the lobby." Exact-
ly what it is, who supports it, who consti-
tutes it,where it is located, and how itop-
erates,are points upon which the popular
mind aforesaid is less clear than in a gen-
eral belief in the lobby's existence. That
eminent statesman from the backwoods
of Tennessee^ Mr. Crutchfield, who held
a seat in the Forty-third Congress, gave

his opinion of the lobby in language,
which, if not elegant, is at least terse
and vigorous. In reply to an inquiry as
to whether there was a " lobby " work-
ing for the extension of a certain sewing-
machine patent, Mr. Cutchfield, who was
a member of the House Committee on
Patents, said : "Lobby? that's the spook
that is always arter me. I hain't been
in Congress only one term, and 1 don't
want to no more. I'll be dogged if I
can stand it. I am just pulled and

110 CONGRESSIONAL PAPERS. NO. Ill— THE "THIRD HOUSE."

hauled until I don't know where I am.
* * * * This is my last year in Congress.
I am goin' to get shet out of it at once.
I can't stand it. Young man, when this
yer Congress is busted and I ken in hon-
or tell ye all I know, I will give ye still
more than enough to fill a book of the
blamedest stuff ye ever dreamed about.
I'm goin' to have my experiences pub-
lished if I have to write 'em out myself.
Lobby, did ye say, backin' of 'em sew-
ing-machines? I should say so ! Lobby?
If ye were a member ye'd find that out.
When I came here I learned a few things.
Does a member love good feedin' ? Then
it rains invitations to the biggest kind of
feeds. Does he love drinkin'? Whiskey
runs in rivers for him upon every hand.
Is it women he wants to persuade him?
Then women it is of every kind, big, lit-
tle, old, young, and nary one of 'em
with any morals to bother 'em. Last, if
all these fail to fetch him, money can be
had in bales rather than to loose him. I
am a pore man, but I want to stay an
honest one. I have stood it out two
years in this yer place, and I ain't goin'
to resk myself here any longer."

At the close of his term Mr. Crutchfield
renounced the pomps of Congressional
life, returned to the purer atmosphere of
his mountain home, where it is reasona-
ble to suppose he is engaged in prepar-
ing his great work " showing up " the
" lobby " at Washington. His vivid de-
scription is that of a steady-going old
farmer, ignorant of the world, suddenly
brought into contact with the most dis-
reputable phase of Congressional legis-
lation. Unlike many others, Mr. Crutch-
field evidently does not believe the " lob-
by " to be a mere creature of imagina-
tion. To him it was a stern reality, or to
use his more expressive language, " the
spook that was always arter him," and
which finally induced him to leave Con-
gress rather than to risk the chance of
having his integrity questioned. Other
members have had similar experiences,
and have withstood all the blandish-
ments the " lobby " could offer; while
still others, possessed of less Spartan in-
tegrity and firmness, stand all over the
land, thrifty monuments of the mysteri-

ous power that sits enthroned at the Cap-
ital.

The " lobby " is no myth : neither is it
so offensively conspicuous as many im-
agine. Whoever expects to see some-
body rashing around whispering in Con-
gressmen's ears " I'll give you ten thou-
sand dollars to vote for the Pacific Rail-
road bill," and " five thousand dollars to
vote for the Brazilian 'subsidy' bill,"
will be disappointed. Nothing of the
kind occurs. In fact, the experienced
lobbyist is careful that his scheme of op-
erations shall "take any shape but that."
A person might haunt the corridors of
the Capitol for years without ever hear-
ing a proposition of this kind openly
made. There are better methods of ex-
erting "influence" — as witness the rela-
tions of the Credit Mobilier and other gi-
gantic schemes. An invitation to "take
stock" in what promises to be a "safe in-
vestment," a suggestion that a certain
project will prove to be "a good thing,"
or a mild hint that a European tour
is needed to perfect a congressman's
health, are among the thousand and oue
little insinuations thrown out by the pro-
fessional lobbyist. The details may be
left to such times and circumstances as
are mutually satisfactory to the contract-
ing parties. That the great majority of
Representatives and Senators are cor-
rupt, is not, for a moment, to be believed ;
but that some of them have shamelessly
betrayed their trusts, and enriched them-
selves at the public expense, is too plainly
evident to admit of denial. The "lobby"
has an existence, and is a fixed fact as
much as the existence of Congress it-
self. Its influence is far-reaching, pow-
erful, and sometimes potential. It takes
advantage of everything, and scruples
at nothing. It leaves no methods un-
tried, however base, to accomplish its
purpose. It embraces in its membership
the least reputable of both sexes. It
has talent, wealth, and beauty at its com-
mand. It can and does to all out ward ap-
pearances, make and unmake those who
should have avoided its fatal clutches.
Apparently, it has no tangible existence.
You cannot find its headquarters, or its
private office. You cannot interview its

CONGRESSIONAL PAPERS. NO. Ill— THE " THIRD HOUSE." Ill

president, secretary, or executive com-
mittee. You don't know where to look
for it, or where to rind it : but somehow or
somewhere there is a mysterious, unac-
countable, and powerful influence eman-
ating that facilitates or retards the pro-
gress of legislation involving great rnon-
ied interests of a public or private na-
ture. There are always before Congress
numerous and cunningly devised schemes
to plunder the Treasury. Many of them
are of vast magnitude, and some of them
are made to appear to be a national ne-
cessity. They are introduced to public
notice and pushed forward by able, per-
sistent, and unscrupulous men. They
easily find their way into Congress
through the manipulation of somefriendly
or interested member. Once introduced
they are subjected to the ordinary chanc-
es of legislation, and must pass through
the customary routine of Congressional
pulling and hauling. To push all such
schemes through both houses of Con-
gress, and to favorably '"influence" the
President, is the principal object of the
lobby. It must not be presumed that all
schemes in which the lobby is interested
are dishonest. Far from it. All is fish
that comes to its net. If it is an honest
claim there is less need of secrecy, and
the work can be done openly and above-
board. It is only necessary for th i claim-
ant to change his figures. He must add
a sum sufficient to cover the expenses of
the lobby. Then if he gets his bill
through, and escapes the clutches of the
rapacious sharks that lay in wait for him,
he is fortunate indeed. The great rail-
way and subsidy rings " lobby " upon a
grand scale. Champagne suppers, rail-
way and steamboat excursions, junketing
parties of all descriptions, fashionable
dissipation, superb dinners at " swell "
restaurants, board at the best hotels,
costly wines, cigars, and stylish turnouts,
are among the many numerous appli-
ances that a powerful lobby always has
at its command. The condition and cir-
cumstances of every member of Con-
gress is inquired into and known. If a

member is poor and in need of money,
advantage will be taken of that fact to
capture him if possible. If he takes the
bait, all right. If he refuses he is quite
likely to be held up to public scorn in
some form or other. To its shame be it
said the press has frequently been an ac-
tive and unscrupulous ally of the lobby.
Cheap newspapers and cheaper writers
have sometimes prepared the way for
the favorable consideration of disreputa-
ble schemes for public plunder, and
abused those who resisted them. Indeed
the great metropolitan journals of the
country have not been found entirely
guiltless, as has been proven by past in-
vestigations. The lobby will leave no
stone unturned to secure the aid of every
newspaper of influence, no matter what
its name or politics. As an illustration
of this there is a scheme involving mil-
lions which failed at the late session of
Congress. The fight was a hot one and
the lobby was beaten. One of the inter-
ested parties is chief owner in a great
newspaper. To increase the chances of
success, howver, efor his favorite meas-
ure, he furnished a large sum of money
to maintain another brilliant newspaper
of exactly opposite political faith.
Whether final success awaits this enter-
prising gentleman remains to be seen ;
but it is reasonably safe to predict that
at least one newspaper funeral would
speedily follow the passage of a certain
bill.

The lobby will always maintain an ex-
istence at Washington so long as the pri-
vate claims upon the government aggre-
gate hundreds of millions of dollars.
There always has been, is now and al-
ways will be hundreds and thousands
of such claims of varying amounts and
infinite variety. Selfish interests will
always prompt interested parties to take
every advantage and use every appliance
to hasten legislation upon such of these
ciaims as may directly concern them.
The lobby is a pliant tool to be used for
all such purposes, and will be found con-
veniently near whenever needed.

112

OLIVER CROMWELL.

BY PROF. E. D. SANBORN.

It is not probable that an impartial his-
tory was ever yet written. No writer
can, with greater justice, lay claim to
impartiality than the learned Athenian
who wrote " for eternity." Next to
Thucydides stands the philosophic Taci-
tus, the uncompromising enemy of op-
pression, and the fearless defender of the
oppressed. In modern historians and bi-
ographers it is in vain to look for strict
impartiality. The writers of histories
are partisans. They have a creed to de-
fend or a system of government to sup-
port. They are wily advocates, making
use of the facts of history to prove their
own dogmas ; or they are the pensioned
hirelings of an oppressive aristocracy,
perverting the truth for a reward. A
partisan or a pensioned dependant can
not write history well. They neither
write as they ought nor as they know
how to write. They judge of men by
the creed or politics of their party, hence
they fail to do justice to individuals. No
man expects justice from an opponent.
A statesman's biography cannot be writ-
ten with fidelity, while the principles he
advocated remain unpopular. The advo-
cate of necessary reform will always be
abused by the majority. Tyrants never
relish discourses upon liberty, nor wily
bigots endure homilies upon toleration.
" As a man thinketh in his heart, so is
he." Let him once be convinced of the
divine right of Kings and Priests and his
hostility to democrats and independents
will know no bounds. If such a man's
opinions are adopted and perpetuated by
others, neither time nor distance will
abate the virulence of their advocates.
The Catholic of to-day hates Luther as
cordially as did his Catholic contempora-
ries. The cavaliers and churchmen of
Victoria's reign assail the character of
Cromwell with as much bitterness as did
those of the time of Charles the First.

The injustice of contemporaries is pro-
verbial. The injustice of a partisan pos-
terity is equally notorious. The parties
which the living patriot encountered
dispute over his tomb, nay, they contin-
ue to dispute after his very dust has min-
gled with its parent earth, and the place
where his bones repose is forgotten. Soc-
rates, who is said by one of the wisest of
the Romans to have brought philosophy
from heaven to earth, was held up to the
contempt of an Athenian populace by a
distinguished comedian as an impudent
charlatan and a reviler of the gods of the
people ; and after the lapse of 2000 years
there are not wanting men who defend
the shameless satirist. • It is never safe
to repeat or admit the charges even of
an enemy who is reputed honest, with-
out careful examination. Some men
seem to be born partisans. Their pecul-
iar mental constitution inclines them to
adopt particular opinions, and to imbibe
particular sentiments. They adopt what
they feel to be right ; not what reason
commends. They reject what their feel-
ings oppose, not what virtue condemns.
Hence the integrity of a partisan wit-
ness cannot secure him against errors of
judgment. The more honestly he enter-
tains his own views, the moie injurious
will he be to his opponent.

These remarks apply, with peculiar
significancy, to those men, who, from
their austere lives and devoted piety,
were called Puritans. Their history has
been written by their enemies. Their er-
rors, their foibles, and their innocent pe-
culiarities, have been exaggerated into
the most odious crimes. The good deeds
they performed have been studiously dis-
colored or concealed; the virtues they
practiced have been blackened by the
grossest slanders, and the inconsiderable
weaknesses which they, being men of
like passions with others, shared, have

OLIVER CROMWELL.

113

been diligently set forth in the garb of
the most repulsive cant and hypocrisy.
Among these men thus willfully traduc-
ed by malicious enemies, stands pre-emi-
nent the leader of the great rebellion,
Oliver Cromwell. At the mention of his
name, the mind is at once beset with im-
ages of violence, of oppression, tyranny,
falsehood and hypocrisy. Why should
the name of Cromwell be associated with
all that is vile in men or odious in de-
mons? Did he walk the earth an incar-
nate fiend? Was he, as his foes main-
tained, in league with the Prince of dark-
ness? Why has his name become, in his-
tory, synonymous with usurper, tyrant,
and hypocrite? 'Tis true he won a king-
dom by his valor. So did David, the
man after God's own heart. 'Tis true he
consented to the death of an imbecile,
perjured tyrant. If David did not as
much, he was as undoubtedly reconciled,
eventually, to the removal of Saul, and
wore his roj al honors without reluctance.
'Tis true that Cromwell punished those
who conspired to overthrow his govern-
ment and refused to obey his laws. So
did the Hebrew monarch. 'Tis true that
Cromwell believed in a special Provi-
dence, and ever acknowledged the reign
of Jehovah. 'Tis no less true that he
prayed earnestly and devoutly to the
God of Heaven for divine counsel and
guidance; and he believed, too, in his
inmost soul, that his prayers were heard
and answered. All this did the sweet
Psalmist of Israel. It does not, there-
fore follow, because Cromwell consented
to the death of Charles, that he was a
regicide, nor because he wore the regal
honors that he was a usurper, nor be-
cause he prayed and sung psalms that he
was a hypocrite. Had he been as reck-
less as Macedonia's " Madman or the
Swede," had be been as profligate as
Csesar and as bloodthirsty as Napoleon,
had he combined and in his own charac-
ter, all the vices of military chieftains
from the days of Nimrod to Andrew
Jackson, and at the same time been as
undevout as Paine or Voltaire, he might
have stood in peerless grandeur among
earth's mightiest heroes, without a stain
of meanness upon his character. Men

have been so long accustomed to rever-
ence power, and to admire the conquer-
or's nodding plume and glittering helmet,
when surrounded with all the " pomp
and circumstance of glorious war," that
they have learned not only to tolerate but
to laud the vices of their heroes. They
expect a great man to be a wicked man.
Public character and private virtue are
dissociated. The trappings of royalty, the
diadem, the purple robe, and the studded
baldrick, conceal the moial diseases of
the monarch ; and when, like Herod of
old, arrayed in royal apparel and seated
upon a throne he makes an oration, the
people shout; " it is the voice of a god
and not of a man," though he may al-
ready be smitten with a moral plague by
the angel of the bottomless pit! Had
Cromwell been as immoral and profligate
as other conquerors whom the world de-
lights to honor, his very wickedness
would have abated one half of the slan-
ders with which the press has teemed
against him. But he was a religious
man, a man of prayer. In this he was
so unlike other conquerors that the mul-
titude, at once, pronounced him a hypo-
crite. The like was never known in the
biographies of a thousand heroes. Great
men never pray — never make God's word
the standard of their conduct. For a
pretence he makes long prayers. He is
a deceiver — a mean, canting hypocrite,
say they. The reputation of the Pro-
tector has suffered from this one cause
more than from all others. It was not
so strange a thing in the world's history,
or in England's history even, that a king
should be deposed or murdered, that the
trial and condemnation of his most sa-
cred majesty, Charles I. should have so
filled the hearts of men with horror and
loaded the memory of his judges and ex-
ecutioners with ignominy. Had the
king been removed by secret assassina
tion, his murderer might have filled his
throne with no reproach of meanness.
Men would have called him wicked, no
doubt, but the very daring of the villany
would have cloaked its enormity. Men
look upon Richard III. with more com-
placency than upon Cromwell ; and why ?
Because they, erroneously, suppose that

114

OLIVER CROMWELL.

the one was an open and fearless usurp-
er, the other a disguised and hypocriti-
cal one. Cromwell and his compeers
acted under a deep sense of religious
responsibility, and with a strong and un-
wavering conviction that their cause was
the cause of God. Their victories were
all ascribed to God's mercy. His guid-
ing hand was everywhere acknowledged,
and everywhere proclaimed. Believing
that they were, in a sense, engaged in a
holy war, they sought out good men to
do battle for the Lord.

In one of the Protector's speeches to a
large committee of his second Parlia-
ment, he briefly alludes to his early ef-
forts in the revolution, in connection with
his friend and relative, John Hampden :
" At my first going into this engage-
ment, [meaning the civil war] I saw our
men were beaten on every hand. I did
indeed; and desired him [John Hamp-
den] that he would make some additions
to my Lord Essex's army, of some new
regiments ; and I told him I would be
servicable to him in bringing such men
in as I thought had a spirit that would
do something in the work. This is very
true that I tell you ; God knows I lie
not. Your troops, said I, are most of
them old decayed serving men, tapsters,
and such kind of fellows; and, said I,
their troops are gentlemen's sons, and
persons of quality. Do you think that
the spirits of such base and mean fellows
will ever be able to encounter gentlemen
that have honor and courage and resolu-
tion in them? Truly I did represent to
him in this manner, conscientiously and
truly I did tell him : 'You must get men
of spirit, and take it not ill what I say.
I know you will not — of a spirit that is
likely to go on as far as gentlemen will
go ; — or else you will be beaten still.' I
told him so ; I did truly. He was a wise
and worthy person, and he did think that
I talked a good notion but an impractica-
ble one. Truly I told him I could do
somewhat in it. I did so, and truly I
must needs say this to you, the result was
— impute it to what you please — I raised
such men as had the fear of God before
them, as made some conscience of what
they did, and from that day forward, I

must say to you, they were never beat-
en, and whenever they were engaged
against the enemy they beat continually.
And truly this is matfer of praise to
God, and it hath some instruction in it
to our men who are religious and godly."
In another speech, he uses the follow-
ing language : " If I were to choose any
servant, the meanest officer for the army
or the Commonwealth, I would choose a
godly man that hath principles, especial-
ly where a trust is to be committed. Be-
cause I know where to have a man that
hath principles." Truly he did know
both where to have men of principle,
and how to choose them. He selected
the best and wisest for places of trust
and responsibility. Even his enemies
admit it. Such were his uniform declar-
ations, and his practice corresponded to
them. Does any one call this cant, hy-
pocrisy and meanness? To such a one I
would say in the words of Carlyle: "The
man is without a soul that looks into this
Great Soul of a man, radiant with the
splendors of very Heaven, and sees noth-
ing there but the shadow of his own
mean darkness. Ape of the dead sea,
peering asquint into the Holy of Holies,
let us have done with thy commentaries.
Thou canst not fathom it." No great
man, much less a good man, ever lived,
of whom all men spoke well. Not even
he " who went about doing good" re-
ceived testimony from men. " Some
said he is a good man, others said nay,
but he deceiveth the people." Because
bigots and the tools of tyrants have rep-
resented the Puritans as ignorant, besot-
ted fanatics, are we bound to believe
them? There are not wanting men in
our own land who still take pleasure in
abusing the Pilgrims, denouncing them
as mere political adventurers, unscrupu-
lous partisans, knavish, time-serving
hypocrites. And who are the men who
at this late period, attempt to set aside
the verdict ot many generations, and to
pour contempt upon our honored ances-
try, of whom the world was not worthy?
These are they who light wax candles in
the day time, who venerate Holy Mother
Church, who make genuflexions before a
crucifix, and consign men better than

OLIVER CROMWELL.

115

themselves over to the uncovenanted
mercies of God. These are they that
venerate the faithless Charles as a mar-
tyr of blessed memory, and devoutly
lisp the praises of the sainted Laud ! It
is right to judge of men by their works.
Revelation pronounces those blessed who
die in the Lord: the reason, too, is an-
nexed : "That they may rest from their
labors ; and their works do follow them."
This goodly land in which we dwell is
eloquent of the works of the Puritans ;
if we should altogether hold our peace
concerning them, the very stones would
cry aloud in their behalf. " English his-
tory," says Bancroft, "must judge of
Cromwell by his influence on the institu-
tions of England."

If the Protector were now alive, he
would assent with his whole heart to this
standard. While he lived, he said fear-
lessly to his Parliament: " this govern-
ment [is] a thing I shall say little unto.
The thing is open and visible, to be seen
and read of all men ; and therefore let it
speak for itself." And what does this
government say for his Highness? Be-
fore answering this question, let us look
at Cromwell's previous history. Little is
certainly known of his early life. In-
deed we know little of him till he was forty
years of age. Th<>. gay butterflies that
swarmed about the Court of Charles II.
sought for themselves an ephemeral ce-
lebrity by inventing scandalous reports,
not only of Cromwell's reign, but of his
early life. Host of the anecdotes that
have come down to us are derived from a
little book called "Flagellum, or the
Life and Death of Oliver Cromwell, the
late Usurper," by James Heath. From
this polluted source has flowed a contin-
uous torrent of filthy slime and mud to
bury, in ever accumulating infamy, the
memory of departed greatness. When
royal spite and priestly vengeance were
digging the earth from mouldering corp-
ses; "when St. Margaret's churchyard
was polluted with the decayed bodies of
a hundred patriots, torn from their last
resting place to glut the malice of His
Most Christian Majesty, together with
his retinue of harlots and ghostly advi-
sers ;" and among them the remains of

Admiral Blake, who contributed as much
as any other man that ever lived to
make England mistress of the seas;
" when the gallows was graced with the
rattling bones and mouldering clay of
the high-souled Oliver and bis coadju-
tors ;" when such fantastic tricks were
enacted in the face of high Heaven ;
what could we expect from the mean,
cowardly, sycophantic Heath, who, like
his prototype in the desert, sees not when
good cometh, who comes like Falstaff to
battle upon the slain, and flesh, his maid-
en sword in the body of the dead hero?
Of this man and his work, Carlyle says :
"Heath's poor, little, brown, lying Fla-
gellum is described, by one of the mod-
erns, as ' Flagitium,' and Heath himself
is called ' carion Heath,' as being an un-
fortunate, blasphemous dullard, and
scandal to humanity; — blasphemous;
'who when the image of God is shining
through a man, reckons it, in his sordid
soul to be the image* of the Devil, and
acts accordingly ;" who in fact has no
soul except what saves him the expense
of salt : who intrinsically is carrion and
not humanity; which seems hard to
measure to poor James Heath."

Considering the origin of these tales of
his boyish irregularities and dissipation,
we may safely set them down to the cred-
it of his slanderers, and at once pro-
nounce them false. The stories of his
profligacy while a student at law, have
not the least foundation in fact ; for he
never was in the Iuns of Court, as his
veracious biographers pretend. The
books of all the Inns have been diligent-
ly searched, and the name of Oliver
Cromwell no where appears. The strong-
est proofs of his early impiety are the
penitential confessions of Oliver himself
in a private letter to a friend. Here his
language is vague and general. He does
indeed admit that he had been the chief
of sinners, and so did Paul ; but we may
not wrest this confession to the injury of
either. Cromwell early became a truly
religious man, and from the time of his
making a public profession of religion
till he became the most prominent man
in the realm, by the confession of his en-
emres, he Ted a consistent life. If he af-

116

OLIVER CROMWELL.

terwards became all things to all men. to
gratify boundless ambition, -which was
his easily besetting sin, we can only say,
that like most good men. he sometimes
acted inconsistently with his principles
and profession. While he lived as a re-
tired and qniefc farmer in Huntingdon,
and afterwards at St. Ives, no man hath
found aught to censure in his character
or conduct.

At the age of twenty-nine he was a
member of the 3d parliament of Charles,
to represent his native Huutingdon. Is
it probable that his fellow citizens, who
knew his whole history, would have se-
lected such a scape-grace as he is repre-
sented to have been, to fill the place
which his honored and honorable uncle,
Sir Oliver Cromwell, had so long and so
creditably occupied? While he lived in
retirement, his enemies being unable to
impeach his morals, would fain under-
value his capacity for business. He is
represented as having squandered his
mother's and his wife's estate so that he
was reduced almost to beggary. After
inheriting a considerable estate from his
uncle, Sir Robert Stewart, one of the
turkey-buzzards of that age says : "Short-
ly after having again run out of all, he
resolved to go to New England." The
testimony of Milton will set this forever
at rest. He says: " Being now arrived
to a mature and ripe age, which he spent
as a private person, noted for nothing
more than the cultivation of pure relig-
ion, and integrity of life, he was grown
rich at home." The fact that he was able
to subscribe £1000 for raising soldiers at
the first out-breaking of the civil war,
shows that he was no beggar. In par-
liament, he does not seem to have acted
a prominent part. Whenever he does ap-
pear, it is always in defense of liberty
and religion. The civil war stirred his
mighty mind to its depths. He entered
into it as a true patriot should have done,
with spirit, energy and decision, and he
never deserted the true interests of his
country; nor did he desert the parlia-
ment, even, till that parliament became
a quarrelsome faction and deserted him.
In the commencement of his career, his
future destiny had never dawned upon

him. Hampden first discovered his su-
perior talents, and he is said to have re-
marked, "should this contest end in a
war, yonder sloven, (pointing to his
cousin), will be the first man in Eng-
land." Cromwell followed fortune, or,
in his own language, the " leadings of
divine Providence." He made the most
of his position on every step of the lad-
der by which he rose to supreme power.
He was not- conscious even of his own
strength. He acted under strong convic-
tions of the 'necessity' of the course he
adopted. To a spectator, therefore, he
seemed almost like one inspired. He
moved forward with a directness of pur-
pose, an earnestness and a certainty of
success unparalleled in the world's his-
tory ; and yet it was a favorite remark of
his: "No man often advances higher
than he who knows not whither he is
going." As he rose, in rank and power,
he filled each successive office with the
dignity and grace of a hereditary prince.
His mind expanded as his sphere of in-
fluence enlarged. An English Essayist
observes : " Cromwell, by the confession
even of his enemies, exhibited in his de-
meanor the simple and natural noble-
ness of a man neither ashamed of his or-
igin nor vain of his elevation ; of a man
who had found his proper place in soci-
ety, and who felt secure that he was com-
petent to fill it. Easy even to familiar-
ity, where his own dignity was concern-
ed, he was punctilious only for his coun-
try."

His private letters to his family show
the kind father, the affectionate husband,
and the true economist. His public dis- *
patches, while in the army, breathe the
purest patriotism with the most fervent
piety. He ever acknowledges the good
hand of God in every victory; and it is
said Cromwell never lost a battle. No
one can reasonably impute this habitual
recognition of God's power and provi-
dence to sheer hypocrisy. We can see
no possible motive for such deception.
It was uncalled for, and could answer no
important purpose. It is far more chari-
table to believe and to maintain that his
prayers, his repeated appeals to the in-
spired word, and his fervent thanksgiv-

OLIVER CROMWELL.

117

ings to Almighty God for his success, he would have been obliged to resume it

were the spontaneous outpourings of a
devout and grateful heart. His numer-
ous speeches to his several parliaments
are all characterized by the same zeal for
religion ; the same earnest and apparent-

the next." " Puritans or royalists, re-
publicans or officers, there was no one
but Cromwell wlio was in a state at this
time, to govern with anything like order
and justice." That fragment of a con-

ly sincere desires for the highest good of stitutional assembly denominated by way

the people. 'Tis true he spoke with great
caution, because every word was treas-
ured up, and would be made, if possible,
a weapon for his own destruction. His
sentences, are, therefore, sometimes in-
volved, intricate, and obscure, encum-
bered with repetitions, and frequently
unfinished. We can find other motives
fer this hesitancy and circumlocution be-
sides fraud and intrigue. The critical
position in which ne was placed suffi-
ciently explains them all. But, says
one, palliate his conduct as you will, he
was still a usurper and a tyrant. Let us
hold up this charge to the light of truth.
We admit that he held power which the
people had never delegated to him, and
which he had not gained by hereditary
descent. If no circumstauces will jus-
tify such an assumption of authority,
then Cromwell must rest under the stig-
ma of exercising unjust power. Let us
look at the state of society and the con-
dition of the government. As Cromwell
was situated, it was a question of life
and death with him, whether he should
put himself at the head of the State.
Had he doubted, or hesitated, or shown
fear he would have been crushed, and an-
archy dark, fearful and bloody, would
have followed. TheCommonwealth was
rent with factions. No party had suffi-
cient influence to lead the others. All
were seeking for the supremacy. Roy-
alists and Republicans, levelers and fifth
monarchy men, Episcopalians and Pres-
byterians, Independents and Quakers.
The nation was one mighty seething pot
of isms, political and religious. No man
could control these hostile and turbulent
factions but Cromwell. He saw it and
acted accordingly. I do not mean to as-
sert that while he acted from an evident
necessity, that he did not act in accord-
ance . ith a fully developed and inexcu-
sable ambition ; but as Guizot asserts,

of derision the " rump parliament,"
were as ambitious of power as the Pro-
tector. They wished to make the power
which the people delegated to them for
a season, perpetual and perhaps heredi-
tary. They were about to curse the na-
tion with a permanent oligarchy. Crom-
well saw it and resisted their usurpation.
The violent dissolution of this parlia-
ment was not generally ungrateful to the
people. Cromwell says himself : '"So far
as I could discern, when they were dis-
solved, there was not so much as the
barking of a dog, or any general and vis-
ible repining at it." When he assumed
the reins of government, though he act-
ed arbitrarily, he did not assume unlim-
ited power. •' For himself," says Ma-
caulay. " he demanded indeed the first
place in the Commonwealth; but with
powers scarcely as great as those of a
Dutch Stadtholder or an American Pres-
ident. He gave the •'Parliament a voice
in the appointment of ministers, and left
to it the whole legislative authority — not
even reserving to himself a veto on its
enactments. And he did not require
that the Chief Magistracy should be he-
reditary in his family. * * * Had his
moderation been met by corresponding
moderation, there is no reason to think
he would have overstepped the line which
he had traced for himself." When the
Parliament which he summoned began
to question his authority to rule, the
same authoiity, too. by which they were
called, and under which they acted, he
became more arbitrary and dismissed
them ; and who would not have pursued
the same course? The necessity under
which the Protector lay of assuming des-
potic power, does not prove him guilt-
less in this matter, but it certainly palli-
ates the crime, if crime it may be called.
But, says an objector, why pull down one
tyrant to set up another? The.domina-

" if he bad abdicated his power one day tion of Cromwell was as odious and op-

118

OLIVER CROMWELL.

pressive as that of Charles ; what, then,
had the people gained by ten years of
suffering, toil and bloodshed? I answer,
much, every way. The two administra-
tions, though both were despotic, were
as unlike as light and darkness. I do not
assert this without authority.

Of Charles. Macaulay, than whom no
man is better versed in English history,
says : " All the promises of the king were
violated without scruple or shame. The
Petition of Right to which he had in con-
sideration of money's duly numbered,
given a solemn assent, was set at naught.
Taxes were raised by the royal authori-
ty. Patents and monopoly were granted.
The old usages of feudal times were
made preetxts for harrassing the people
with exactions unknown during many
years. The Puritans were persecuted
with cruelty worthy of the Holy Office.
They were forced to fly from their coun-
try. They were imprisoned. They were
whipped. Their ears were cut off. Their
noses were slit. Their cheeks were brand-
ed with red-hot iron." Another able crit-
ic observes : " The sovereign was, in fact,
a Rob Roy on a large scale ; the Richard
Turpin of the nation ; and his represent-
atives were licensed highwaymen and
freebooters, levying an abominable black-
mail from their fellow subjects." Such,
in brief, was the reign of the faithless
tyrant, Charles I. England was bleed-
ing at every pore. The rights of her cit-
izens were all abrogated. The land, the
property, the lives of the people, accord-
ing to the prevailing politics and religion,
belonged to the king by divine right.
Nothing but resistance to oppression
could arrest the encroachments of the
government. Resistance was made. The
tyrant was defeated. The abuses of many
years were reformed ; and even under the
usurper Cromwell England was essen-
tially free. Listen to some brief testi-
mony on this point. Bancroft says:
" Cromwell was one of those rare men
whom even his enemies cannot name
without acknowledging his greatness.
The farmer of Huntingdon, accustomed
only to rural occupations, unnoticed till
he was more than forty years of age, en-
gaged in no higher plots than how to im-

prove the returns of his farm, and fill his
orchard with choice fruit, of a sudden
became the best officer in the British ar-
my, and the greatest statesman of his
time> subverted the English constitution,
which had been the work of centuries,
held in his own grasp the liberties which
the English people had fixed in their
affections, and cast the kingdoms into a
uew mould. Religious peace, such as
England, till now, has never again seen,
flourished under his calmer mediation ;
justice found its way even among the re-
motest Highlands of Scotland; com-
merce filled the English marts with pros-
perous activity under his powerful pro-
tection ; his fleets rode triumphant in the
West Indies ; Nova Scotia submitted to
his orders without a struggle; the Dutch
begged of him for peace as for a boon ;
Louis XIV. was humiliated; the pride of
Spain was humbled ; the Protestants of
Piedmont breathed their prayers in secu-
rity ; the glory of the English name was
spread throughout the world."

Such, too, is the concurrent testimony
of all historians, both friends and foes.
Even Clarendon admits his ability as a
statesman and his successful administra-
tion. He applies to him what was said
of China, k% Ausum eum qua3 nemo aude-
ret bonus, perfecisse qu88 a nullo nisi for-
tissimo perfici possent." The same prej-
udiced historian adds: "He reduced
three nations to obedience at homp, and
it is hard to say which feared him most,
France, Spain or the Low Countries;"
and while he thinks that he will be look-
ed upon by posterity as " a brave, wick- A
ed man," he admits that " he had some
good qualities which have caused the
memory of some men, in all ages, to be
celebrated." The best men and the wis-
est men in the kingdom admitted the
equity of Cromwell's administration.
Such men as Milton, Locke, and Cud-
worth eulogized, and we trust, sincerel}'
too, the virtues of the Protector. Never
had England been so prosperous. Never
had her subjects before enjoyed such
freedom of worship. Cromwell was far,
very far in advance of the religious men
of his own times in toleration. He al-
ways maintained that men had a right to

OLIVER CROMWELL.

119

think and act for themselves in matters of
religion, and that, as long as they behav-
ed peaceably they were free to dissent
from the magistrate and the priest. To
his parliament in 1654, who had failed to
regulate matters in religion as he wished,
he said : '■ Those who were sound in the
faith, how proper was it for them to la-
bor for liberty, for a just liberty, that
men should not be trampled upon for
their consciences? Had not they labor-
ed but lately under the weight of perse-
cutions, and was it fit for them to sit
heavily upon others? Is it ingenuous to
ask liberty and not give it? What great-
er hypocrisy than for those who were op-
pressed by the bishops to become the
greatest oppressors themselves as soon
as the yoke was removed? "Cromwell
ever acted in accordance with these sen-
timents. Though some religious impos-
tors were punished during his Protector-
ate by the Parliament, it was not done
by his approbation or consent. He was
liberal in opinion and practice. He was
a sincere and honest Independent, both
as a citizen and a monarch. His views of
Apostolic succession would be not a little
unpalatable at Oxford at the present
time. Of this he says: " I speak not, 1
thank God it is far from my heart — for a
ministry deriving itself from the Papacy,
and pretending to that which is so much
insisted on — Succession. The true suc-
cession is through the Spirit given in its
measure. The Spirit is given for that
use. To make proper speakers forth of
God's eternal truth, and that's right Suc-
cession." With all the theological light
of the 19th century who can define Suc-
cession better? Who at this day enter-
tains juster views of religious freedom
and of the true end of a church organi-
zation than did Oliver Cromwell? Here
is no scourging, no boring of tongues, no
cutting off of ears and slitting of noses
for dissent, as in the days of the sainted
martyr, Charles. No, if Cromwell had
not been thwarted by his Parliament,
plotted against by the royalists, insulted
and abused by sectaries he would have

made the English nation the freest, the
happiest people on earth. The true dif-
ference between him and Charles was
this: Charles ruled for his own advan-
tage ; Cromwell for the advantage of the
people. Charles sought to aggrandize
himself. Cromwell, the nation. Charles
wished to compel a uniformity of belief;
Cromwell aimed at a unity of spirit and
action. Charles impoverished the nation ;
Cromwell enriched it. Charles fled be-
fore his enemies ; Cromwell subdued
them. Charles failed to command the
respect of his own subjects; Cromwell
gained the respect of the whole world.
Charles contended for prerogative ; Crom-
well for principles. The Court of Charles
was the resort of intriguing politicians,
fawning sycophants and shameless har-
lots; the Court of Cromwell was little
more than a well regulated christian fam-
ily, characterised by simplicity, purity
and decorum. Such was Oliver the Pro-
tector. England has never known his
equal. The conqueror of Napoleon, the
" iron duke" had not a tithe of his liber-
ality and far-reaching sagacity. The
character of Cromwell will never be ap-
preciated till the principles he advocated
have beeome popular in England. That
time hastens on apace. During the last
half century whole mountains of mean
slanders have been rolled from the clay
of the insulted hero. Another half cen-
tury will reveal to an admiring world the
man Oliver as he was, such as Milton
saw him when he penned the following

lines :

" Cromwell, our chief of men who through a

cloud,
Not of war only but of detractions rude,
Guided by faith and matchless fortitude,
To peace and truth thy glorious way hast

plow'd,
And on the neck of crowned fortune proud
Hast reared God's trophies, and his work pur-
sued,
While Darwent's stream with blood of Scots im-
brued,
And Dunbar field resounds thy praises loud ;
And Worcester's laureate wreath yet much re-
mains
To conquer still : peace hath her victories
No less renowned than war ; new foes arise
Threat'ning to bind our souls with secular

chains.
Help us to save free conscience from the paw
Of hireling wolves whose gospel is their maw."

130 SORROW.

SOBROW.

BY MARY HELEN BOODEY.

Sorrow sits and softly sings

While she flings

O'er the strings
Of her lute her fingers white,
With tear-diamonds bedight.

Diamonds deck her, head and foot,

Well they suit

On her lute,
Glitter, glitter, like the rain,
Sparkle, sparkle, without stain.

Every diamond is a tear;

Jewels dear;

Without fear
Sorrow wears them and doth shine
As she were a diamond-mine.

Sorrow gathers hour by hour

Such a dower,

Such a shower
Of the bright, translucent gems
Which she wears in diadems.

When -her holy work is done

Every one

In the sun
Glows and flashes living light
That would dazzle mortal sight.

Now she comes and sits by me,

Moments flee

Dreamily ;
As I weep she closer clings,
Working, ever, as she sings.

Sorrow ! Sorrow ! go thy way,

Do not stay

Here to-day,
I've shed tears enough for thee,
Haste away ! I will be free !

But my guest doth still remain

And again

Falls the rain
Of my tears, which she doth take
Singing low, " For faith's sweet sake!"

INDUSTRIES IN HOPKINTON.

121

INDUSTRIES IN HOPKINTON.

BY C. C. LORD.

AGRICULTURE.

An early occupation of civilization is
tilling the soil. In a new country farm-
ing is often the main support of the pop-
ulation. The first settlers in Hopkin-
ton were mostly farmers. The con-
dition of agriculture was, of necessi-
ty, crude. Its profits were uncertain in
a corresponding degree. Besides the
natural uncertainty of the seasons, the
lack of intercommunication between lo-
calities, and the attendant imperfect
means of transportation, made the con-
sequences of local failure more disas-
trous. The soil, however, was new and
fertile. When it brought forth it did so
abundantly. It was only when it failed
through drought, flood or cold that pop-
ulation suffered — mostly through the dif-
ficulty of communicating with immedi-
ate and abundant supplies.

As population and social facilities in-
creased, the farms were not only self-sup-
portive, but on fertile years corn and
grain were stored in the granaries of the
industrious. Consequently,in the earlier
times, the farmers of Hopkinton sold
corn and wheat, instead of buying them
as they do now. In the case of infertile
seasons, the stores of accumulated pro-
ducts became available in the suppres-
sion of famine. In 1816, there occurred
a prominent illustration in kind. The
year was very unfruitful through an in-
tensity of cold. On inauguration day in
June, there was snow to the depth of
four inches on a level. An early frost in
autumn killed all the corn. The farm-
ers cut it up and shocked it, but, being
in the milk, it heated and spoiled. As a
consequence of the induced scarcity,
corn sold in Hopkinton as high as $3.50
a bushel.

Corn and grain have been sold in this

town and taken to Vermont for consump-
tion. People then could not anticipate
the times that were coming. One of our
townsmen tells us he very well remem-
bers the first time his father bought a
barrel of flour. The price paid was only
four dollars, but the act of purchase
was deemed so extravagant as to be al-
most culpable. It could not then be
popularly forseen that the time was at
hand when it would be almost as rare for
a farmer in Hopkinton to raise his own
flour as it was then rare for him to pur-
chase it.

In the earlier times, the production
and maintenance of farm animals was
also much larger. In districts where it
is now comparatively rare to find a yoke
of oxen, the supply of this kind of stock
was multitudinous. Nothing was more
common than to own several yokes of
large oxen, to say nothing of the usually
attendant array of steers. Not more
than fifty years ago, Mr. R. E. French,
our present townsman, seeking cattle
for the down-country markets, bought
over seventy head in one day. They
were all purchased in one district in this
town, and the transaction required less
time than half of the day. At the pres-
ent time it is nothing uncommon for a
man to travel over parts of several towns
to buy a single yoke of oxen.

Besides the usual complement of horned
stock and general farm animals, there
was at one time quite a specialty in
sheep. Stephen Sibley and Joseph
Barnard were prominent growers of this
kind of stock. Their flocks were count-
ed by hundreds. Considerable effort
was made to secure improved animals.
Stock was imported from Vermont, New
York, and perhaps other states, and the
quality of the local flocks materially ad-

122

INDUSTRIES IN HOPKINTON.

vanced. The prosperity of this branch
of farming industry soon met with an
ignominious defeat. The revenue laws
of 1832 and 1833, reducing the duties on
imports and discouraging local manu-
factures, so reduced the price of wool
as to materially depress the interests of
sheep growers. The flocks declined. A
little impulse was given to this branch
"of industry during the war of 1861, ow-
ing to the demands for wool created by
the army, but it was only temporary.

The soil of this town was adapted to
growing, all the staple crops of New
England, but its subjection to the uses of
the husbandman was a work of prodi-
gious effort. The dense, heavy forests
go extensively prevailing, were subdued
by labor without direct profit. Wood
and timber, so much in excess of the de-
maud, were comparatively worthless.
Even many years after the complete oc-
cupation of the township, a large pine
tree, several feet in diameter and full of
clear stuff, was sold on the stump for the
insignificant sum of twenty-five cents.
The freedom with which the best of tim-
ber was employed in the humblest uses
of building attests the low marketable
estimate placed upon it. Acres upon
acres of primitive forest were cut down,
the logs rolled in heaps, and the fallen
debris— trunks, branches and boughs —
burned to ashes. Following this ex-
ceedingly laborious toil, came not only
the difficult task of plowing and plant-
ing, but the almost endless labor of re-
moving the rocks and stones that thick-
ly cumbered the surface of the ground.
Stones were utilized in the division of
lots by walls, which were often thick,
or double. On an ancient location on
Putney's Hill, can be seen stone walls
that are six or eight feet in thickness.
Heaps of stone thrown up in waste
places are significant monuments of the
severe toil through which the early in-
habitants of this town reclaimed the
wilderness. *

With experience and increased social
facilities, came improvements in the quali-
ty of the products of the soil. The in-
troduction of improved varieties of
fruit was a more notable event on ac-

count of the facilities for improvement
afforded by the process of grafting..
About seventy years ago the Bald-
win apple was introduced into this
town by Stephen Gage. Since then it
has become the standard winter apple in
every household in the community. We
need not speak of the many varieties of
roots, seeds and scions that have come
and gone, or come and remained, since
the earlier times. The history of our
town, in this respect, is substantially
uniform with that of many others in its
vicinity.

Upon the ancient farm of Mrs. Eliza
Putney, upon Putney's Hill, lies an an-
cient broken grindstone, a symbolic
relic of a past rude husbandry. It is of
common granite rock, and for a long,
time was the only grindstone in the im-
mediate vicinity. People came long dis-
tances to grind their scythes upon it.
Before its use, people from this town,
used to go to Concord to grind their
scythes. A general scythe-grinding took,
place only occasionally. The scythes
were kept sharp with whetstones as long
as practicable, and then a party gathered
up the dull scythes in the neighborhood
and took them away for grinding.
Snaths at that time were made by hand.
The axe-handles were straight. The
plows were at first of wood., faced with
iron. Implements of all kinds were
rude and imperfect, besides being mostly
the products of the skill of the local
blacksmith and carpenter. The intro-
duction of modern implements has been
a gradual but comparatively thorough
work. The ancient richness of the- soil
having been in a great measure exhaust-
ed, the introduction of fertilizers from
outside has become a permanent traffic.
The utilization of the newer and richer
fields of the West has brought to our
doors an abundance of corn and grain,
and the accidental forms of cereal pro-
ducts. In the accidental improvements
of farming— draining, building, etc., —
our town has made creditable progress.
The proximity of Hopkinton to Concord
and Fisherville, populous places, has
latterly given an impulse to the depart-
ment of the dairy. Improved dairy

INDUSTRIES IN HOPKINTON.

123

stock has been introduced to a consider-
able extent. Among our most enter-
prising farmers may ^be mentioned Jo-
seph Barnard, James M. Connor, Wood-
buryjHardy, John W. Page, S. S. Page,
Horace Edmunds, H. H. Crowell, and
others.

MANUFACTURES.

In 1738, Henry Mellen received a prom-
ise of a gratuity of twenty-tive pounds
from the incipient township, on condi-
tion that by the first of October of the
same year he should erect a mill ; ' on the
reservation" and keep it in repair for
three years next following, with the im-
plied privilege of each proprietor to ob-
tain sawing at a stipulated price. The
list of proprietors' 1 and other lots given
on the plan of occupation originally
drawn gives no specific location of the
4,4 reservation." Wherever this reserva-
tion was, if there was ever a mill built
upon it, the structure was probably not
located on any very considerable stream.
The circumstances of the new township
would hardly admit of an immediate im-
portant manufactory of lumber. In
very early times there was a mill on the
brook now utilized by Dea. Timothy
Colby, but farther up than the present
lumber works, at the head of the present
poud. The foundations of the ancient
structure can be seen to this day. We
have heard it said that this spot was the
site of the first mill in town. It may
have been.but we cannot prove it. * From
the few facts in our possession we con-
clude that, after the permanent settle-
ment of the town mills increased with
considerable rapidity. In 1791 the fol-
lowing persons were taxed for mills : —
Nathaniel Clement, Moses Titcoinb, Jer-
emiah Story, Amos Bailey, Levi Bailey,
Joseph Barnard, John Currier. Eliphilet
Poor, Abraham Rowell and Simeon Dow,
Jr. The principal business done at
these mills was probably sawing lumber,
grinding corn and grain, or fulling and
dressing cloth. Nathaniel Clement and

* Since writing the above we have re-
ceived information which leads us to be-
lieve that the first mill in town was lo-
cated on the site of the old Philip Brown
mill described in this article.

Jeremiah Story were in partnership, con-
tinuing so, probably, till 1798, when both
ceased to be taxed for property in mills.
Their first mill, possibly in activity be-
fore 1791, was on or near the site of the
old Phillip Brown mill, just east 6f the
village, below what is now known as Mill's
Pond. Moses Titcomb's mill was after-
wards known as Webber's ; the site is no
the well-known Sibley farm, now owned
by Dr. C. P. Gage, of Concord. Joseph
Barnard's mill was also on Dol-
loph's brook, so-called, near its outlet into
the Contoocook river. John Currier's
mill was in " Stumpfield," on the well-
known brook coursing through that dis-
trict. Abraham Powell's mill was ou *
the Contoocook river, at West Hopkin-
ton, near Powell's bridge, on the present
mill site. Simeon Dow's mill was at
Contoocook, as was the mill of Eliphilet
Poor, the first in this location. We can-
not give the location of the others.

In the earlier times, manufactures
were very much scattered. In fact ev-
ery household was a manufacturing es-
tablishment in a small way. Once small
mills and shops, manufactories of lum-
ber, leather, and various domestic arti-
cles in whole or in part, were scattered
through the town, occupying nearly or
quite every available water privilege,
while some, like the tanneries, were of-
ten on highland locations. Since the
earlier times, many men have been en-
gaged in manufactures in this town.
We can only mention some of the more
important establishments and owners.

The principal water-power being on
the Contoocook river, at the village of
the same name, which has grown up in
a large measure in consequence of the
local, natural privileges offered by the
stream, there have been a number of the
more important works in this locality.
Mills of greater or less importance were
located early at this point, among the
operators being Benjamin. Hills, who
was taxed for mill property in this
town as early as 1795*, and whose family
name gave the euphonious title of " Hill's

♦In 1797-99, Moses Hills was taxed for
Mill property in this town.

124

INDUSTRIES IN HOPKINTON.

Bridge " to the present village of Con-
toocook. As the place increased in size
and importance more notable works were
established. As soon as 1825, Abram
Brown was .a mill operator or owner.
In company with John Burnhara, he car-
ried on a notable business in the lumber
and grain line for about thirty years.
The grist mill operated by these two
men was conducted by the sons of John
Burnham till the fire of 1873, which con-
sumed it. In 1826, or thereabouts, Joab
Patterson established himself here in the
business of a clothier. Subsequently he
took into partnership his brother, David
N., and till about 1860 the two carried on
* business, but subsequently to 1844 fol-
lowing the manufacture of woolen cloths,
which they sold largely to people in the
vicinity in exchange for wool or cash.
For a short time another brother was
connected with them. On the north side
of the river, a mill, on the site of the
present saw mill operated by the Burn-
ham brothers, was built by Hamilton E.
Perkins about 1835. It was subsequent-
ly burned and rebuilt. The present
grist mill, owned by Col. E. C. Bailey,
occupies a building erected for miscella-
neous purposes by H. E. Perkins a short
time after his first. Messrs. Kempton &
Allen began the manufacture of mack-
erel kits about 1850, first in the present
Burnham saw mill; afterwards one or
both occupied the old Patterson fac-
tory, where business was kept up till the
fire of 1873. For a few years subse-
quently to 1864, Messrs. Jonathan M. &
George W. Morrill carried on woolen
manufacturing in the present grist mill
building, which was then the property
of Capt. Paul R. George, or his heirs.
In 1874 the brothers Morrill & Kempton,
kit manufacturers, erected their present
steam mill about a half mile north of the
village. Grinding was also done at their
mill during the first years of its exist-
ence. A year or two subsequently to
the erection of this mill, Colonel Bailey
put in the machinery of his present grist
mill. He is at present the exclusive
owner of the site of the water power at

Contoocook.
About 1815, Thomas Kast began the

manufacture of leather on the spot now
occupied by Horace J. Chase, employing
the present water power. He kept up
the business for about thirty years, and
then sold out to Jonathan Osgood. In
1852 the works passed into the hands of
Mr. Chase, who has made numeroas im-
portant additions and improvements to
them. This establishment has been
twice burned out — once during its occu-
pancy by Mr. Kast and once since owned
by Mr. Chase. About 1830, Benjamin F.
Clough established a mill at what is now
known as " Cloughville." Several sons
of Mr. Clough have since been engaged
in different kinds of wooden manufao
tures here, and several mills have at
times been in operation. As soon as
1835, John Smiley became engaged as a
miller at West Hopkinton, on the site of
the old Rowell mill. For about thirty
years " Smiley's Mills" was a popular
grinding station for the vicinity. Grind-
ing is no longer done at this station.
The traveler who now takes his way in
the valley between Putney and Beech
Hills, crossing the tortuous Dolloph's
Brook where it runs easterly across the
road, at the site of what was formerly
Richard Kimball's mill, will hardly con-
ceive that here, where is now nothing
but trees and bushes, was once a mill
three stories in height, where, in addi-
tion to sawing lumber, the managers
ground and bolted as good meal and
flour as perhaps can be made at any
place. Yet it was so. Several parties
were at different times interested in this
mill. Nathaniel Clement and Jeremiah
Story once did business in partnership at
this location. The Clement family was
prominently connected with this mill in
later times. The mill site was in the
possession of the Story family till 1877.
About forty-five years ago, much en-
thusiasm was aroused over the manufac-
ture of silk. Silk worms and mulberry
trees were procured from older New
England States and work begun in ear-
nest. Silk thread and cloth were manu-
factured, but the enterprise died about as
suddenly as it was born. The products
of this business cost more than the in-
come. Our people could not successful-

INDUSTRIES IN HOPKINTON.

125

ly compete with the cheaper labor of

Europe. In some instances remnants of

the old mulberry orchards can be to this

dav seen.

The following parties are taxed for

mill property the present year:— Eli A.
Boutw 11, Charles F. Clough, Benjamin
C. Clongh, Timothy Colby, Henry H.
Crowell, Carr & Wheeler, AVadsworth
Davis, Amos Frye, Jr., Kempton & Mor-
rill, Nathaniel V. Stevens, Samuel Spof-
ford, Nahum M. Whittier.

TRADE.

Trade is essenti tl to civilization. An
incipient community has its quota of
tradesmen. Soon after the first occupa-
tion of the township of Hopkinton.
stores, or domestic trading posts, for the
accommodation of the public, began to
spring up. Reliable data of the earliest
conditions of trade in this town are very
meagre. In 1791, the following persons
were taxed for stock in trade and money
at interest:— Capt. Joshua Bailey. Capt.
Chase, Daniel Herrick, Samuel Harris,
Capt. Stephen Harriman, Theophilis
Stanley and Benjamin Wiggin. It is rea-
sonable to believe that only a part
of these were engaged in actual traffic in
merchandise. Some may have been
small manufacturers. Theophilis Stan-
ley and Benjamin Wiggin were tavern-
ers, though Wiggin also kept a store,
while Stanley worked a tannery.

There was a combination of circum-
stances tending, in the earlier times, to
make Hopkinton a comparatively thriv-
ing trading post. Besides the natural
wants of the local population, an incen-
tive was afforded in the fact that for
many years Hopkinton was a shire town
of old Hillsborough County; the town
also occupied a prominent position on
the northern frontier of New Hampshire
settlements. In consequence of these
circumstances, the local business inter-
ests advanced rapidly for a number of
years. In 1800 the following persons
were taxed for stock in trade : — Joshua
Bailey, Esq., Samuel Darling, Reuben
French, Ebenezer Lerned, Isaac Long,
Nathaniel Procter, Theophilis Stanley,
Silas Thayer, Samuel G. Town, Town &
Ballard, and David Young. Of these

Isaac Long was a book-binder and sel-
ler; David Young a cabinet-maker.
There were others whose business we
cannot describe, unless they were com-
mon traders. In 1810 there were Abram
Brown, Thomas W. Colby, Reuben
French, Ebenezer Lerned, Isaac Proc-
tor, Theophilis Stanley. Stephen Sibley,
Joseph Town, and Thomas Williams; in
1820, Buswell & Way, Calvin Campbell,
Thomas W. Colby, Timothy Darling,
George Dean, Thomas Kast, Isaac Long,
Jr., Ira Morrison, Stephen Sibley, Jo-
seph B. Town, and Thomas Williams.

For a time it was thought that Hop-
kinton might become the permanent cap-
ital of the State. The year 1805 decided
in favor of Concord. It may be said that
here was the beginning of a tide of
events that ultimately took away the
business ascendancy of this town, which
rapidly declined in thrift in the latter
part of the first half of the present cen-
tury. In the clays of greatest prosperity
Hopkinton village was the center of a
large wholesale trade. Town & Ballard
were wholesale and retail merchants,
occupying the building now used by
Kimball & Co. The whole lower floor
of this building was in use by this firm,
and numerous clerks found busy em-
ployment, while strong teams from the
upper country resorted here for the pro-
ducts of trade and barter. During this
period the stores of Thomas W. Colby,
Lerned & Sibley, and Thomas Williams
were notable places of business. Colby's
store occupied the corner now used by
Gage & Knowlton ; Lerned & Sibley, the
building now occupied by Miss Lydia
Story ; Thomas Williams, a building
standing between John S. Kimball's and
the Congregational meeting house. At
this time, besides other stores, were the
usual attendant establishments repre-
senting the multiple business wants of a
complex community.

In the earlier times trade was not so
closely confined to the villages as now.
One of the outposts of business was on
the Concord road, near the present resi-
dence of Mr. William Long. Nathaniel
Proctor was a trader at this point, as
may have been others. Different parties

126

THE BOSTON PORT BILL.

have also traded in a store that stood
near the present residence of Mr. Perley
Beck, at the four corners at " Stump-
field." Among those trading in Hopkin-
ton village in later times Joseph Stan-
wood, Stephen B. Sargent, James Fel-
lows and Nathaniel Evans are prominent.
Among the earlier traders in Contoocook
was Solomon Phelps. Ebenezer Wyman
came to Contoocook over forty years
ago, and till lately has traded most of
the time since, doing a miscellaneous

business. Herrick Putnam and Isaac D.
Merrill were also well known merchants
in this locality.

The following parties are at present
engaged in trade in this town : — Gage &
Knowlton, Kimball & Co., Curtice & Ste-
vens, W. H. Hardy, Eufus P. Flanders,
G. H. Ketchum (stoves, tin and hard-
ware), Miss Julia M. Johnson (ladies'
goods). The first two firms mentioned
are in the lower village ; the other par-
ties in Contoocook.

THE BRITISH ACT OF PARLAIMENT, KNOWN AS THE BOSTON POET

BILL, OF 1774, AND THE LIBERALITY OF NEW HAMPSHIRE,

AND OTHER PLACES, FOR THE RELIEF OF THE

SUFFERERS IN BOSTON.

BY HON. G. W. NESMITH.

This act of Parliament went into ef-
fect on the 14th day of June. 1774. The
harbor of Boston was blocked up by four
large ships of war, with orders to inter-
dict all trade by sea. Five regiments of
troops were stationed in different parts
of the town to prevent trade with the
country. The intent of the statute was
to punish the rebellious citizens of that
town, who had not only refused to pay
duties on British goods, but had dared to
throw overboard cargoes of imported
teas, in vindication of the claim that tax-
ation and representation should go to-
gether, or, in other words, that the col-
onies should be heard before taxes on im-
ports should be imposed. Again, Bos-
ton had complained of the quartering of
troops within the limits of their city in a
time of peace, and as a consequence of
this ty ran ideal act the massacre of March,
1770, had ensued and a hostile spirit be-
twoon the citizens and troops had been
engendered. The tendency of the Port
Bill was to produce immediate want and
suffering. The ordinary commerce and
trade of the town being prohibited, the
industries of the citizens destroyed,

their sources of living dried up, their
only resource left was either to abandon
their homes entirely, or to appeal to the
charity and liberality of their friends
elsewhere for a supply of the necessaries
of life. The appeal was made. The
friends of liberty yielded a ready
response. The conduct of Britain was
everywhere regarded as oppressive, and
a deep sympathy was felt in behalf of
the sufferers. The newspapers of the
day inform us that the bells in the town
of Falmouth (now Portland) and in the
city of Philadelphia were tolled all day,
and all business suspended on the afore-
said 14th day of June, in consequence of
this grevious act of Parliament being en-
forced upon the inhabitants of Boston.
Large meetings of the citizens of Phila-
delphia, Baltimore, New York, Ports-
mouth, and various other cities and
towns assembled, and passed resolutions
recommending the people to purchase no
more British goods, and to consume
no more tea, strongly sympathizing
with the oppression of Boston, and ex-
horting her people to stand firm at this
trying crisis.

THE BOSTON PORT BILL.

127

The Provincial Congress of Massa-
chusetts and New Hampshire, represent-
ing the people of each State, among their
spirited resolves, requested their fellow
citizens to contribute liberally to alle-
viate the burdens of those persons who
are the more immediate objects of minis-
terial resentment, and who are suffering
in the common cause of their country.
Donations soon began to now into the
town of Boston from all quarters. On
the 20th day of June, 1774, Newbury-
port contributed two hundred pounds.
June 30th, Charleston, South Carolina,
sent two hundred and five casks of rice.
The editor of the South Carolina Ga-
zette severely critisized the character of
the Port Bill, stigmatizing it as being not
a production of Lord North, but of h — I.
Ou the 15th jof July, Wethersfield, Conn.,
and vicinity, sent one thousand bushels
of grain for the Boston poor. On the
same day the editor of the Boston Chron-
icle remarked " that this town was vis-
ited by Col. Putnam, of Pomfret, Conn.,
a hero renowned, and well known
'throughout North America. His gen-
erosity led him to Boston to succor his
oppressed brethren. A fine drove of
sheep was one article of comfort he was
commissioned to present to us." Put-
nam saw enough at this' visit to induce
him, when first hearing of the battle of
Lexington, some months after, to leave
his plow in the furrow, and fly to the res-
cue of his friends.

Soon a quantity of provisions was re-
ceived from the friends of liberty in Que-
bec, and one hundred pounds sterling
from Montreal, and one thousand pounds
worth of West India rum from the Island
of Barbadoes. A constituent of Edmund
Burke, resident in Bristol, England,
wrote to his friend and correspondent
here to pay on his account fifty pounds,
and five hundred pounds, if, in his judg-
ment, the good cause demanded it. We
cannot stop to recount the liberal dona-
tions from the State of Massachusetts
and other States. Some of the donations
from our State are not defined. The ac-
count is quite general in this language : —
This day was received from Londonder-
ry, Amherst, Hampton, New Ipswich,

etc., provisions, money, etc., for the re-
lief of Boston. In other cases we have the
following items : Portsmouth contributed
three hundred pounds, Exeter two hund-
red pounds, Rye twenty pounds, South
Hampton fifteen pounds, Temple ten
pounds, Poplin (Fremont) her pair of
oxen, delivered to Mr. Foster by Zach-
eus Clough, Esq. Mr. Foster was chair-
man of the donation committee for the
town of [Charlestown, which was em-
braced in the common calamity with
Boston. John Sullivan, Esq., afterwards
Gen. Sullivan, of Durham, and the min-
ister of the parish, Rev. John Adams,
constituted a committee who collected
some funds in Durham, and the vicinity,
and forwarded the same by a messenger
no less distinguished than Alexander
Scammell, who was then a student at
law in Sullivan's office, accompanied by
the following letter, which we give for
purpose of showing the spirit of the
hour. The letter was addressed to the
donation committee of Boston, of which
Samuel Adams was chairman : —

''Durham, Nov. 21, 1774.

Gentlemen — We take pleasure in trans-
mitting to you by Mr. Scammell, a few
cattle, with a small sum of money, which
a number of persons in this place, ten-
derly sympathising with our suffering
brethren in Boston, have contributed
toward their support. With this, or
soon after, you will receive the donation
of a number in Lee, a parish lately set
off from this town, and in a few days the
contribution of Dover, Newmarket, and
other adjacent towns. What you here-
with receive comes mostly from the in-
dustrious yeomanry of this parish. We
have but few persons of affluent means,
but these have most cheerfully contrib-
uted to the relief of the distressed in
your metropolis. This is considered by
us not as a gift, or an act of charity,
but a debt of justice. It is a small
part of what we are in duty bound to
communicate to those truly noble and
patriotic advocates of American free-
dom who are bravely standing in the gap
between us and slavery, defending the
common interest of a whole continent,
now gloriously struggling in the cause
of common liberty. Upon you the eyes
of all America are now fixed. Upon
your invincible patience, fortitude and
resolution, depends all that is dear to us
and our posterity.

May that superintending Gracious Be-
ing, whose ears are ever open to the

128

THE BOSTON PORT BILL.

cries of the oppressed, in answer to the
incessant prayers of his people, defend
our just cause, turn the counsels of our
enemies into foolishness and deliver us
from the hands of our oppressors, and
make those very measures by which they
are endeavoring to compass our destruc-
tion the means of fixing our invaluable
rights and privileges upon a more firm
and lasting basis. It seems to us that it
may prove to the ultimate advantage of
this good cause in America, that the at-
tacks of our enemies are made to that
quarter where the virtue and firmness of
the inhabitants could brave the shafts of
the military tyrants and set at defiance
the threats of an exasperated and des-
potic minister.

We are pleased to find that the meth-
ods sought to divide, have happily united
us, and by every new act of oppression
our union has been more and more
strengthened; and we can with truth as-
sure you. gentlemen, that in this quarter
we are engaged to a man in your de-
fence, and of the common cause.

We are ready to communicate of our
substance largely, as your necessities
shall require, and with our estates to
give also our lives, and mingle our blood
with yours in the common sacrifice to
liberty. We renewedly assure you we will
not submit to wear the chains of slavery
which a profligate and arbitrary ministry
are preparing for all of us. That Heaven
may support you under your distressing
circumstances, and send you a speedy
and happy deliverance from your pres-
ent troubles, is the earnest prayer of
your cordial friends, and very humble
servants.
(Signed)

John Adams, I committee
John Sullivan. / ^ ommittee -

This letter was published in the Bos-
ton Chronicle at the time. Its deter-
mined zeal and fervor naturally tended
to influence the public mind, and to pre-
pare the friends of liberty to strike for
the common cause.

The patriots of Boston, amid all their
severe trials, were encouraged by salu-
tary advice and substantial aid to perse-
vere to the end by the lovers of freedom
everywhere. They were doomed to en-
counter the perils and privations of two
sieges. The first, commencing with the
14th of June, 1774, continued about one
year, until open hostilities commenced,
and was prosecuted to gratify the ven-

geance of a spiteful British Ministry.
During this year the town lost nearly
one-third of her population, who felt
compelled to remove in order to obtain
the means of living. Many of those who
remained, who had been in comfortable
circumstances, were reduced to abject
poverty. All classes of people were
made poorer ; none were enriched. After
the engagement at Bunker Hill, the be-
siegers found themselves besieged by land,
and for the next nine months the Ameri-
can army held the avenues to the town,
and the hopes of the patriots were
revived and their condition somewhat
improved by a friendly intercourse
with the troops without. During
these nine months the British troops
were obliged to depend upon their
shipping for provisions. The patriots
within the town derived much consola-
tion from the fact that the British troops
were involved with them in a common
suffering for a supply of necessary food
and fuel. In March, 1776, Washington
was prepared to bombard the town.

This resort was expected by the patri-
ots, and the owners of property feared
the results. Gen. Howe threatened to
fire the town if Washington persisted in
his purpose. Finally Howe proposed to
evacuate the town if no attack were
made. This arrangement was concurred
in, and on the 18th of March Howe with-
drew his army, giving relief and great
joy to the inhabitants of the town.

In the afternoon of the next Sunday
after the evacuation, in presence of the
American army. Rev. Mr. Bridge, Chap-
lain in his brother's regiment, preached
an appropriate discourse from II. Kings,
7th chap., 7th verse — ' k Wherefore, they
arose and fled in the twilight, and left their
tents, and their horses, and their asses,
even the camp as it was, and fled for their
life." The application of the text was as
follows: " The text describes the flight
of our enemies, as they left their tents,
and their horses, and quite a number of
Tories for asses.

Uu\s

THE

GBANITE MONTHLY.

A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE, HIST OR Y AND
STATE PROGRESS.

VOL. II.

DECEMBER, 1878.

NO. 5.

HON. MOODY CURRIER.

PThe following sketch is from the history of Boscawen, by C. C. Coffin, recently published.]

The subject of this sketch was born in
the town of Boscawen, April 22. 1806. At
an early age, his parents removed to Dun-
barton, and thence to Bow, where his
early years were passed on a farm, at
tending the district school about six
weeks during the winter. He had an in-
satiable desire for information, and de-
voured all the books he could lay hi3
hands on, reading through the long win-
ter evenings by the light of a pitch pine
knot, or a tallow candle.

He fitted for college at Hopkinton
Academy, and graduated at Dartmouth
in 1S34, Hon. Daniel Clark of Manches-
ter, of the U. S. District Court for this
District, being one of his classmates.

Soon after leaving college he taught
school in Concord, and, in company with
Hon. Asa Fowler, edited the New Hamp-
shire Literary Gazette. He was after-
wards principal of the Hopkinton Acad-
emy for one year, and in 1836 became
principal of the High School at Lowell,
Mass. He held that position for five
years, and in 1841 removed to Manches-
ter, where he has since continued to re-

ride. During his residence at Hopkinton
and Lowell he studied law, and on going
to Manchester was admitted to the Bar,
and became a law partner with Hon.
George W. Morrison. In 1842 he pur-
chased an interest in a weekly newspa-
per, the Manchester Democrat, and de-
voted a part of his time to editorial la-
bors for about a year. His partnership
with Mr. Morrison was dissolved in 1S43,
but he continued in the practice of his
profession independently until 1848. In
that year the Amoskeag Bank was or-
ganized, and he became its cashier and
has continued in the banking business
since that time.

Upon the organization of the Amoskeag
Savings Bank, in 1S52, he became its
Treasurer, and still holds the office.
When the Amoskeag National Bank was
organized to succeed the old Amoskeag
Bank, in 1864, he became its President.
He has been a Director in the People's
Bank at Manchester since it was organ-
ized in 1874; a Director in the Blodgett
Edge Tool Company during the existence
of the corporation ; President and Trea-

130

HON. MOODY CURRIER.

surer of the Amoskeag Axe Company
since its organization in 1S62 : a Director
in the Manchester Gas Light Company
since 1862 ; a Director in the Manchester
Mills since the "organization of the cor-
poration in 1874; Treasurer of the Con-
cord & Portsmouth Railroad Company
since 1856 ; Treasurer of the Concord
Railway Company in 1871-'72; and is
now Treasurer of the New England Loan
Company, and President of the Eastern
Railroad Company in New Hampshire.

He was Clerk of the New Hampshire
Senate in 1843- , 44. and was elected a
member of that body from the 3d District
in 1856-*57, and was President of the
Senate in the latter year. He was elected
Councillor in 1860-'61, and was Chairman
of the War Committee of the Council
during the first fifteen months of the War
of the Rebellion. In that position he ex-
hibited great ability and energy, and ren-
dered efficient service to the state and the
nation. He entered with his whole soul
into the business of raising and equipping
troops, and won great praise from all
parties for his efforts in this direction.
The first eight regiments of infantry, the
First New Hampshire Battery, together
with four companies of cavalry and three
companies of sharp-shooters, were or-
ganized, equipped and sent to the front
with the utmost dispatch, while Mr. Cur-
rier was at the head of the War Commit-
tee. In compliment to him, the rendez-
vous qf the Eighth Regiment at Man-
chester was named "Camp Currier."

Mr. Currier has been three times mar-
ried. His first wife was Miss Lucretia
Dnstin to whom he was married, Dec. 8,
1S36. His second wife, to whom he was
married September 5, 1847, was Miss
Mary W. Kidder. He was married to
Miss Hannah A. Slade, his present wife,
November 16, 1869.

He has had three children, one of
whom, Charles M. Currier, survives, and
is the Teller of the Amoskeag National
Bank.

Mr. Currier has an ardent temperament
and versatile talent. His practical judg-
ment is shown in the success of the bank-
ing institutions which he has managed
for many years, and also in the success
of the various other enterprises with
which he has been connected in an official
capacity. He is methodical and cautious
in his habits, and has always sustained
the reputation of being honorable and
upright in all his business relations.

He maintains a high rank as a scholar
and, unlike many other men who have
enjoyed the advantages of a liberal edu-
cation, he has throughout his whole life
taken a strong interest in the study of
literature, science and philosophy. He
retains a taste for the ancient classics
and is quite familiar with the French,
German, and several other modern lan-
guages; he has written many pieces of
poetry, at intervals of leisure, which are
very creditable in taste and composition.
He is an independent thinker upon all
subjects, and though he is decided in his
convictions and frank in the avowal of
his opinions, cheiishesa tolerant spirit,
and entertains the highest respect for
those with whom he is obliged to differ.

By industry and prudence he has ac-
quired a handsome fortune, and his resi-
dence is a model of taste. He is liberal
of his gifts to worthy objects and espec-
ially to those which relate to intellectual
culture. In 1876 he presented to the
Manchester City Library upwards of 700
volumes of valuable books, — standard,
classical, illustrated, ecclesiastical, and
scientific. These books were numbered
and classed in the catalogue of the libra-
ry as the " Currier Donation." In ac-
knowledgment of this generous gift, res-
olutions of thanks to Mr. Currier were
passed in both branches of the City Gov-
ernment, and by the Board of Trustees
of the City Library.

He has been for many years a member
of the Unitarian Society of Manchester,
and one of its most liberal benefactors.

NEW HAMPSHIRE HILLS. 131

NEW HAMPSHIBE HILLS.

[Among the prominent men of the last generation, few are better known or more widely hon-
ored tnan Governor Colby. Living In the quiet town of New London, he originated and carried
on a variety of business operations, much in advance of his times. He was as active and success-
ful in politics as in business. He held many important offices in town and state, and, in 1846,
was chosen Governor of New Hampshire. His only daughter was educated at New London
Academy, and became for some years, one of the most thorough and successful teachers our
State has ever produced. She was afterwards married to James Colgate, Esq., one of the most
distinguished bankers of New York City. Mr. and Mrs. Colgate are widely known for their mu-
nificent gifts to public institutions and private charities. Mrs. Colgate loves her native state.
The following poetic tribute to the New Hampshire Hills, is from her pen:]

New Hampshire hills ! New Hampshire hills !
Ye homes of rocks and purling rills,
Of fir trees, huge and high.
Rugged and rough against the sky
With joy I greet your forms, once more
My native hills, beloved of yore.

Engraved upon my youthful heart
With keener point than diamond's art,
I see you when the world's asleep
And memory wakes, with fancies deep,
Visions of scenes, though old, still new,
Then lost in dreams, I gaze on you.

New Hampshire hills ! New Hampshire hills !
The electric sound my spirit thrills,
With thoughts of childish ecstacies,
And dreams of glorious symphonies,
While now as then, I see you stand,
Erect to guard our granite land.

I've watched you, at the early dawn,
Before the shades of night had gone,
Arrayed in robes of soft gray mist
Before the sun your brow had kissed,
Then laying this pure vest aside,
Stand, nobly dressed in royal pride.

I've seen you in the moon's full light,
When every dell was brought to light ;
When rock and leaf and crag lay bare,
Suffused with gleaming, glint and glare,
Then blent with tints that knew no name,
Thy hues and dies seemed all the same.

132 • LAWYEES AND POLITICIANS.

I've watched you when departing day

Shed o'er your forms a softer ray,

Empurpling all your verdure o'er

With richer hues than e'er before;

Then touching quick your peaks with gold,

Too glorious, made you to behold.

I've loved you when the moon's mild beams
Shed lights and shades on hills and streams,
Too strange, mysterious, dark and'bright,
For realms designed for human sight;
In silence then, I've stood amazed,
And lost to all but you have gazed.

New Hampshire hills ! New Hampshire hills !
The sight of you my spirit fills
With raptures such as minstrels feel,
When at the shrine of love they kneel,
And all aglow with poet's tire,
Strike with delight the living lyre.

New Hampshire hills ! New Hampshire hills !
Sweet peace and health your air distills,
As fresh as when the earth was new,
And all the world was good and true;
Emblems, ye are of royal state;
Majestic hills, bold, grand and great.

New Hampshire hills ! New Hampshire hills !

Your presence every passion stills,

And hushed to peace I long to pass

Far up your heights of lovliness,

And stand, the world beneath my feet,

There earth and heaven enraptuied meet.

LAWYEES AND POLITICIANS.

BY HENRY KOBINSON.

A writer upon " Men and their Profes- ly with knowledge as by Cheek:'' Imag-

sions," in the Granite Monthly for ine the modest writer before the seven

October hist, assumes to slur lawyers, able and erudite judges, who constitute

Defence is unnecessary, yet we venture the august tribunal of the highest court

a few suggestions in their behalf. Had of our own State, or before the Supreme

his ungenerous insinuations been couched Bench of the United States, giving vent

in more respectful language, they might to such a sentiment ! We would call his

have been worthy of more considerate attention to the history of his country,

notice. With an air of authority, he wherein he may learn that from the ranks

summarily denounces lawyers in general of the legal profession have come our

as "Meu who are not burdened so heavi- leading statesmen, our most gifted ora-

LAWYERS AND POLITICIANS.

133

tors, our best writers and finest scholars
in various branches. The presidents,
with very few exceptions, have been
lawyers, and a large majority of the cab-
inet officers, senators and congressmen
were students and practisersof the law,
and whoever states that these men suc-
ceeded through 4, cheek," rather than by
knowledge and ability, insults the intelli-
gence of the American people. "Cheek"
is alow word, and has a low meaning,
but pluck is an essential element of legal
and other success. Lawyers as a class,
are as well educated and as well cultured
men, as can be found in the community,
and any well informed, unprejudiced
teacher, clergyman, doctor, or even
school-boy, will tell you so. They are
preferred for public stations, — for mem-
bers of the Board of Education, for of-
fices of trust and responsibility in various
organizations, and for important posi-
tions in society, church and state. Un-
doubtedly, there are dishonorable lawyers
as well as dishonorable barbers and
butchers, bakers and candlestick-makers,
but the statistics of criminality show
lawyers to be better behaved than jour-
nalists and doctors, and even the minis-
ters, who generally conduct themselves
pretty tolerably well. Undoubtedly,
there are ignorant and "cheeky" law-
yers, as well as ignorant and "cheeky"
scribblers for the magazines; but the
writer speaks of them as a class, when
he writes down the profession " as
one to be dodged by that man who hopes
to live a life acceptable to himself and the
community."

"No rogue e'er felt the halter draw,
With good opinion of the law."

Has the writer recently received a
curt collection letter, or has he been
righteously whipped in a law-suit? All !
here may be a clue to his biliousness.
He says, people should not complain,
"except, perhaps, when they aspire to
office of honor, trust or profit, and find an
attorney and counsellor at law ready to
fill the bill to their exclusion." We are
sorry that the writer has met with
disappointments in his aspirations, but
he is unreasonable in blaming lawyers :.s
a class for his personal misfortunes. He

says, " lawwers are clannish;" but he is
in error in his statement, for they are al-
most invariably arrayed one against an-
other. He would lead us to believe that
lawyers are a mean set of people, for even
amongst his friends and acquaintances
"are worthy and honorable exceptions."
We do not happen to know what the
writer's associations are, but do know
that your average lawyer is a good, whole-
hearted citizen. He is a practical man,
— he can harness a horse and drive it; he
can make a speech, write an article for
the newspaper, and saw a cord of wood.
The sun does not go down upon his pas-
sion, — he will oppose you to-day ; but go
a-fishing with you to-morrow, He inves-
tigates many subjects ; sees many things ;
he thinks much, travels much, reads
much, writes much, talks much; he is a
broad and deep student of human nature,
the grandest of studies; he can give and
take hard blows. He has a deep respect
for members of his own and other pro-
fessions and trades, and has warm friend-
ships and many acquaintances amongst
them. He is a genial companion, a good
family man, well-informed and handy as
a friend. He is public-spirited ; does not
sit in judgment on other men and their
vocation and cases, but does his best for
his clients. He has an immense sense of
the ridiculous; but a deep reverence for
things holy, and is charged with a fund of
interesting anecdote. His is a grand and
deep science. It may not be grander and
deeper than theology or medicine, but a
life-time of application to it would fall
far £hort of its accomplishment. To be
a good lawyer, he must love his work.
Law is that order which pervades and
constrains all existence, and in these days
of civilization, enlightenment, invention,
improvement, progress. — in these days
of a million competitions and complica-
tionsof trades, governments, laws, trans-
actions, no one can afford to sneer at an
upright lawyer. Wherever are law and
order and peace, there are lawyers.
Where all is chaos and confusion, there
is no mission or opportuity for lawyers.
The writer referred to lias gone on to
discuss the members of other professions
and has drawn some vewy invidious dis-

134

LAWYERS AND POLITICIANS.

criminations. The truth is that we are
all dependent one upon another; each is
important in his place, and each puts his
own profession, his own trade, craft or
calling at the head, and such pride is
laudable, for every man's voi ation, be it
legitimate, should be the highest in his
own estimation. The writer is no very-
keen observer, else he would have learn-
ed that there are no totally depraved
callings. Human nature runs about the
same throughout all kinds of business.
There are good and bad men in every de-
cent department of life, and — thank God !
— the good are in the majority, and our
friend ought to know it. It may seem
otherwise at times; the day is not always
bright, but the sunshine is much more
plentiful than the thunder clouds; men
may lie, but truth is far more frequent
than falsehood. We have not the time,
the inclination or the space to point
out all the erroneous impressions con-
♦ veyed in the writer's article, but it
seems a duty to call attention to one
more, at least, now that we have given
the matter any attention.

He classes all politicians with blear-
eyed, drunken loafers and culprits, who
escape prison, where they rightfully be-
long, who give the police the greatest
uneasiness, — " the despised of the com-
munity, the forsaken of God, the hated
and ignored of virtuous women." But
what does he mean? A saintly teacher
of ours, now beyond the river of time,
taught us that Political Ethics, the Sci-
"' ence of Government, was one of the
grandest, broadest and deepest studies,
and in later days, with the utmost defer-
ence, we have revered the names of the
noble statesmen, as we have been wont
to call the politicians who have compre-
hended the mighty fabric of our organic
laws, and have marshalled the people
into a peaceful union, under a republican
Government and a Glorious Old Flag!
Alas ! these men were professional poli-

ticians, and, the gentleman declares,
should be given the "cu*", direct." Yet
Washington and Webster, Lincoln and
Sumner, and hundreds and thousands of
other great men were politicians. What
would we be without politicians? Are
there any politicians in Kamtschatka or
Fegee Islands? Every great leader is a
politician. Every loyal, intelligent citi-
zen and voter takes an interest in poli-
tics, and is in some measure a politician.
Our presidents, our senators, our con-
gressmen, are politicians, and the better
politicians they are, the better qualified
they are to serve their constituency to
the best advantage. The wide scope of
learning has divided men into special-
ties ; the ministers preach to sinners ; the
doctors visit the sick ; the editors prepare
their sheets ; the blacksmiths fashion and
weld iron ; but when the affairs of State
and general government get entangled,
and we are threatened with revolution
and ruin, we look, for a helmsman, to
somebody who has made politics a study
and a business. Are these somebodies,
"blear-eyed, drunken loafers," or are
they the first men of the nation, essential
to our welfare and prosperity? Ah, sir,
do not denounce all lawyers, because you
are so unfortunate as to have a tilt with
a resolute Collector; nor all politicians,
because you happen to meet at the ballot
box, some petty ward-fugler, who never
had the slightest conception of the sci-
ence of politics. To good and true poli-
ticians we must look for purification, for
harmony, for peace, for prosperity, for
good government, aud when we give the
profession of politics the "cut direct,"
down goes our hope of union, of prog-
ress, of civilization, of Christianity and
all honorable advancement. Young men,
if your tastes, inclinations, opportunities
and circumstances will admit, become
upright and able politicians, scholars,
statesmen, leaders in the land.

BAKER'S RIVER.

135

BAKER'S EIVEB.

BY HON. J. E. SARGENT.

Baker's River is located in Grafton
County, mainly in the towns of Ply-
mouth, Rutnney, Went worth and War-
ren, and has a history, like all the other
rivers and mountains in the State, and
particularly in the northern part of it,
many of which histories, if they could be
written and read and understood, would
prove rich in stirring incident and fraught
with instruction.

This river is made up of two principal
branches, known as the North and the
South branches, and of many smaller
streams or brooks that flow into them
and into the main river after those
branches are united. The North or
principal branch of the river rises in
Moosehillock mountain in the town of
Benton, formerly Coventry. Its source
is north east of the northerly or highest
peak of the mountain. There is a cas-
cade a little way down the slope of the
mountain, and about north east from the
Summit House, which is visited by many
travellers, the waters of which descend
to a level piece of bog or swampy land
at the foot of the mountain, which is
some half a mile in diameter and out of
which flows a small stream which is the
origin of the North branch of Baker's
River. After descending a mile or two,
a branch from the west unites with it,
which comes down in the ravine between
the two spurs, which extend easterly
from the two principal peaks of the
mountain. At Warren Village, there is
another stream entering it from the west,
affording valuable water power and mill
sites, and a half a mile below, near the
old Clough house is another stream, en-
tering it from the east, in the bed of
which, up toward the mountains, were
discovered the first grains of gold, that
were found in the neighborhood of War-
ren.

At Wentworth "Village, a branch, some-
times called the South Western branch,
but more commonly Pond Brook, which
is the outlet of Baker's Pond, so called,
in Orford, unites with Baker's River
from the west. This stream was so
swollen by the great freshet in August,
1856, that it swept away mills, shops,
dwelling houses, barns and out-buildings,
and utterly destroyed all of Wentworth
Village that was located upon the street
that extended up by the side of this
stream towards Orford, carrying away
all the foundations even, and the soil-
upon which they stood down to the solid
ledge, which remains to this day in near-
ly the same condition. This river has a
general direction nearly south down
through Warren and perhaps * half
through Wentworth, then it turns south
easterly and then easterly, passing out
of Wentworth through Rumney and Ply-
mouth, and empties into the Pemiege-
wassett, just north of Plymouth Village.
Just* before it passes from Wentworth
into Rumney, the stream known as the
South Branch flows into it from the
south west. This branch is said to have
its rise in the town of Orange, takes a
circuitous route through the easterly
and north easterly parts of Dorchester,
thence through the south easterly part
of Wentworth to its union with the
North Branch, which is known as Baker's
River. Just below Rumney meeting-
house, another branch called Stinson's
Brook, which is the outlet to Stinson's
Pond, so called, unites with Baker's
River from the north. The whole length
of the river from its source in Moosehil-
lock to its mouth is something over thirty
miles. The length of the South Branch
is something less than that of the North
Branch, though not very materially less,
on account of its very circuitous course.

136

BAKER'S RIVER.

The Indian name of Baker's River was
" Asqnamchuraauke," which means "the
place of the mountain waters." This
name was given to it by the natives, be-
cause of the place where it rises, and
also perhaps, because all the streams
that flow into it, have their source in the
mountains that lie on either side as it de-
scends to the Pemigewassett.

Moosehillock, the name of the moun-
tain on which Baker's River rises as it
was formerly spelled and pronounced,
would seem at first to be a compound
English word, made up of moose (an an-
imal) and hillock, meaning a little hill.
But if this were the origin of the name,
then it must have been most inappropri-
ately applied. There is little reason iu
calling this noble mountain, which is

4800 feet high, and the largest and high-
est in all the northern part of New
Hampshire or Vermont west of the
White Mountains, a hillock, or little hill.
If the word moose had any connection
with the origin of this name, it surely
should have been Moose Mountain instead
of Moose Hillock. To have called it
Moose Hill would have been entirely out
of place, but Moose Hillock is still worse.
But we understand that the name of this
mountain is derived from the Indian
words Mo-ose, meaning Bald, and auke,
meaning place, the letter I being thrown
in for the sake of euphony, making Moose
lauke, the " Bald place" or the "Bald
Mountain," a much more appropriate
and significant appellation than to apply
the word hillock to a mountain of that
size and consequence. There are points
from which this mountain may be viewed,
where the resemblance to a bald head is
most striking, and where every beholder
would at once be struck with the appro-
priateness of the Indian appellative.
The name has now come to be spelled in
accordance with this theory.

The original dwellers on Baker's River
were a tribe of American Indians known
as the Coos auks or Coosucks, as they
were more frequently called. This is
also an Indian name, made up of two
words, Coos, meaning a pine tree and
auke, meaning place, "the place of the
pine tree," and the Coosauks were the

dwellers in the place of the pine. The
word auke in their language, meaning
the same as place in English, was ap-
plied to everything that had locality,
like our word place. Rivers, mountains,
countries, lakes were all places. Coos
was the name given by the whites origi-
nally to all that portion of New Hamp-
shire, which was located north of Con-
cord on the Merrimack River, and of
Charlestown, formerly known as Charles-
town, No 4, on the Connecticut river;
these being for a considerable period of
time, the most northerly towns that were
settled in the State bjr whites. All north
of this was called the Coos Country or the
country of the pine tree, from the large
quantities of pine that grew originally,
in the valleys of the Merrimack and Con-
necticut rivers and their tributaries.

Portions of the counties of Sullivan,
and Merrimack and all of Grafton, have
been made of what was once the Coos
Country, and after taking all these, we
have remainin