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DURHAM LIBRARY ASSOCIATION
THE
(> y^ u - 6
GRANITE MONTHLY.
@ Qteio ^ampB^iu Ofha^a^int^
'Devoted to History, "Biography, Literature, and
State Trogress.
VOLUME X.
CONCORD, N. H. :
JOHN N. McCLINTOCK,
EDITOR AND PUBLISHER.
1887.
N
fi759
V, 10
CONTENTS OF VOLUME X.
PAGE
John Rand. Rev. C. W. Wallace, D. D 1
One of Gov. Wentworth's Last Official Acts. Hon. John Wentworth, LL. D. . 6
Localities in Ancient Dover. Part II. John R. Ham, M. D 7, 54
A Jail Adventure. William O. Clough 13
Early Manners and Customs. Mary R. P. Hatch 23
The Old North Church of Concord 27
Abraham Liucohi —
Address of Hon. Charles H. Sawyer 33
" Capt. H. B. Atherton 34
" Col. Daniel Hall 36
" Charles R. Corning 39
" Hon. Charles H. Burns 41
New Hampshire State Senate 49
The Christie Family. Edwin Salter 52
Dr. Brewer's Address 58
Matthew Harvey. C. C. Lord 60
Asquam Lake and its Environs. Fred Myron Colby 68
Book Notices 80
Hon. Aretas Blood 81
Windham, N. H. Leonard A. Morrison 86, 248, 280, 296
Ethel Freeman. Ellen M. Mason 89, 136
Lisbon, N. H 95
The Annulling of the Commission of Stephen Peabody. Levi W. Dodge . 102
Phillips Exeter Academy. Herman W. Stevens 104
Campton, N. H 108
Settlement of St. John, N. B. Edwin Salter 109
C. C. Briggs 113
Higgins Brothers Co 117
Gen. John Stark. Gen. George Stark 121
A Down East Homer. Isaac B. Choate 142
Christ Chm-ch. Annie Wentworth Baer 146, 1.59
The First Excursion. P. B. Shillaber 149
Publishers' Department 153, 190
Hon. Ezra ScoUay Stearns. Charles R. Corning 157
Birthplace of Gen. Henry Dearborn. John Wentworth, LL. D. . . , 164
Historical Sketch of West Dunstable. Charles S. Spaulding .... 165
Literature, Quaint and Curious. L. E. D 168
The Gull Rock 171
Contents.
Tuftonbor
Alice Freeze Durgin
ough
C. S
Spauldiu
Lake Winnipiseogee in October. Fred Myron Colby
Edward Gove's Insurrection of 1683 — The Second American Rebellion.
Sanborn ......
How Polly Came Home. Clara Augusta .
Hon. John C. Linehan .....
New Hampshire in 1784 ....
Hon. William E. Chandler ....
Our Boarding-House. Ai'thur E. Cotton .
New Hampshire Authors. Arthur E. Cotton
The Residence of Counsellor Peter Livius at
worth, LL. D. ....
The Pinkham Notch. Persis F. Chase
To an Out-Bound Ship ....
Hon. Daniel Clark. Hon. Isaac W. Smith
Joseph Emerson Dow. Hon. A. S. Batchellor, A. M.
S. Paul's School
The Northern Volunteer. Col. T. L. Livermore
Unread.
Hon. Alvin Burleigh
Incidents Connected with the History of Lempster, N. H.
The Founding of Dartmouth College. Harry Stearns
The Free High School. Frances M. Abbott
African Notes. A. A. Woodbridge ....
Good-Bye. C. C. Lord ......
Love and Theology .......
Hon. Amos J. Blake
Major Waldron. Winfield S. Jameson
James T. Fields. Olive E. Dana ....
Campaspe. C. Jennie Swaine
Whitefield, N. H. Levi W. Dodge ....
Origin and Meaning of Proper Names. E. D. Sanborn, LL. D
Among the Haymakers. Arthur E. Cotton
Boundary Line. Nelson Spoffard ....
New Hampshire Men in Michigan. Mary M. Culver
Fifth Avenvie Hotel
October. Mary R. P. Hatch
Intolerance in New Hampshire. M. V. B. Knox, Ph. D.
Literary Notes
Winter Idyl,
Hon. William Dennis Weeks. J. S. Brackett
The First New England " Witch." Willard H. Morse, M
The Massacre of Glencoe. Horace Eaton Walker
About the Names of M oosilauke and Some Other Places.
Lake 'Squam. Fred Myi-on Colby ....
Hon. Mason W. Tappan
Daniel Webster. W. C. Sturoc
Reminiscences of the Sunny South. Lucinda Chandler
Champlain ; A Ballad of 1609. Mary H. Wheeler .
Inventors as Martyrs to Science. Kate Sanborn
Index
J. C.
John Went-
D.
WiUiam Little
239,
301.
173
185
188
191
194
206
212
214
218
220
221
223
229
233
257
254
255
267.
268
270'
275
285
286
287
289
290
294
298
366
307
309
313
317
325
326
331
333
344
347
354
357
365
375
376
377
383
384
399
THE
RANITE neNTHLY,
A NEW HAMPSHIRE MAGAZINE.
^Devoted to Literature, 'Biography, History, and State Progress.
Vol. X.
JANUARY, 1887.
No. I,
JOHN
By Rev. C. W.
Rand is a name of French origin.
It was formally written Rande. So
far as known, the first of the name in
this country settled in Charlestown,
Mass. Rev. John Rand, the grand-
father of the subject of this sketch,
was born in that town January 24,
1727 ; was graduated at Harvard col-
lege in 1747, and settled in Lynde-
borough, N. H., in 1761, as the first
Congregational minister in that place.
Soon after, he married Sarah, daugh-
ter of Col. John Goffe, of Derryfield
(now Manchester), N. H., and in
1765 removed to that town, and seems
to have relinquished the work of the
ministry. He received the commis-
sion of justice of the peace under
George the Third, and removed to
Bedford, N. H., in 1778, which con-
tinued to be his residence until his
death in 1805, at the age of 77. He
was the father of seven children.
The eldest, John and Jonathan, twins,
were born at Lyndeborough June 24,
1762. Jonathan married Sarah Ab-
bott, daughter of Dea. Ephraim Ab-
bott, of Amherst, now Mont Vernon,
a family long distinguished for its
RAND.
Wallace, D. D.
evangelical faith and devoted piety.
They had eight children — three sons
and five daughters — among them,
John, whose life we notice, the fourth
child and second son. He was born
Jan. 27, 1801, in Bedford, N. H.,
and spent his boyhood on his father's
farm, receiving only such limited
education as the country school then
afforded, of from eight to twelve
weeks during the year. He never
enjoyed the advantages of a high
school or academy. When about
eighteen vears of age he left the farm
and entered as an apprentice the shop
of Mr. Robert Parker, in his native
town, to learn the trade of cabinet-
making. At that time, in the country,
house and sign painting were often
united in the same business. Mr.
Rand became a workman in both
branches, for he was a man who
could very readily adapt himself to
almost -any handicraft. Soon after
his majority he went into business
for himself. He also introduced
some machinery, not common sixty
years ago, in the manufacture of fur-
niture. But although he was a good
Jo/ni Rand.
workman and very industrious, yet
he could not manage business. In
less than three years he found him-
self hopelessly in debt. His shop
passed into other hands, and he grad-
ually turned to what proved to be the
great work of his life — portrait paint-
ing. While he was an apprentice,
there came into the neighborhood a
man by the name of Morse, the same
who afterwards became so distin-
guished as the inventor of the mag-
netic telegraph. He had studied un-
der West, in Europe. While Morse
never excelled as a portrait painter,
yet he awakened in Mr. Rand the idea
which had before lain dormant, — that
of becoming an artist in the depart-
ment of portrait painting. From this
time, every leisure moment and much
thought were given to this favorite
and chosen pursuit of his life. The
writer well recollects having heard
Mr. Rand say, " I am willing to give
my life to be a painter."
After remaining a few years in the
country, and dividing his time be-
tween portrait and ornamental and
sign painting, perhaps because the
latter was more immediatel}' remuner-
ative, he went to Boston and opened
a studio on Cornhill. Having re-
mained there for some years, bending
all his energies to the one purpose of
his life, he travelled into the Southern
states, everywhere prosecuting his
work.
Having arrived at a good degree of
proficiency in his chosen profession,
he sailed for Europe, where, for
twelve years, mostly in London,
though for a time in Paris, he contin-
ued with enthusiasm both the study
and the practice of his art, until he
had arrived at such a degree of per-
fection that he had few living supe-
riors.
During his residence in Europe,
perhaps on the principle that neces-
sity is the mother of invention, his
attention was called to the manner in
which pigments were preserved. The
first we learn of such preparation, the
paints when ground in oil were tied
up in small parcels of prepared blad-
der, or something that would exclude
the air. Afterwards tinfoil was used
in the form of a tube. This was an
improvement : still the paints, as
soon as opened, would begin to dry,
and thus inconvenience and waste
were the result. Mr. Rand, feeling
the need of a better mode of preserv-
ing artists' colors, gave thought to
the subject ; and the tube fastened
with a screw, now in common use on
both sides of the Atlantic, was the
result. Few artists of our day, as
they mix their colors on the palette,
are aware to whom they are indebted
for this very great convenience. Mr.
Rand secured a patent for his inven-
tion in England ; I think also in
France and America. For a time he
received quite a royalty for the use
of his invention, enough to have
made him independent ; but, alas ! he
could not escape the fatality which
attends so many men whose inven-
tions have blest the world. At the
time when his patent was fast secur-
ing the patronage of artists, and he
was receiving a fair remuneration for
its use, a man from America, with
letters of introduction, appeared at
his studio in London. He came to
introduce and sell a recent invention
of his, known as the teolian attach-
ment to the pianoforte. He had sold
the patent in America for one hun-
'John Rand.
dred and ten thousand dollars. He
hoped to meet with similar success in
England. Mr. Rand received him
most cordially, invited him to his
home, and offered any service he
could render. The gentleman wished
to be introduced to some leading
musicians in the city, and Mr. Rand
complied with his request. They ex-
amined his instrument, and at once
pronounced it a failure, saying, " No
doubt it is new to you, but it is an old
invention. It has been tried in this
country, but, owing to the different
effects of the atmosphere upon the
string and the pipe, the instrument is
constantly getting out of tune, and
unless this difficulty has been over-
come, the invention must prove a
failure." The inventor was discour-
aged, but not inclined to admit the
correctness of the statement. He re-
quested a further examination, which
■was granted, and repeated many
times during a period of several
weeks. As a result, Mr. Rand said
he noticed that while one of the men
who at first pronounced the invention
a failure adhered most firmly to his
opinion, the other gradually yielded,
and, after repeated trials, concluded
that the atmospheric difficulty had
been overcome, and the instrument,
therefore, a success. Notwithstand-
ing, however, this hearty endorse-
ment, the man failed to make a sale
of his patent. To the great increase
of his embarrassment, letters were re-
ceived, as he affirmed, from America,
rendering it indispensable for him to
return home at once. In his dilemma
he begged Mr. Rand to purchase his
patent, offering to take a merely
nominal sum as compared with the
fabulous amount which at first he de-
manded. Mr. Rand, knowing noth-
ing of music, but trusting to the
honesty of his friend, and placing
implicit confidence in the distinguish-
ed musician, who, after repeated
trials, had changed his first doubtful
opinion to one of certainty, concluded
to make the purchase. This was
followed by an attempt to manufact-
ure the instruments, which, as he
could make no sale, resulted in in-
volving him in bankruptcy. In set-
tling with his creditors, he was com-
pelled to part with his patent, and,
indeed, with all his property. It was
but poor consolation to be informed
afterwards that the London musician
was hired to change his opinion of
the instrument, that the inventor fled
to America without paying the in-
famous bribe, and that he lived but a
short time to enjoy the fruits of his
ill-gotten gain.
After Mr. Rand settled his affairs
in England, he returned in the spring
of 1848 to this country. He came at
once to his native town to visit his
parents, then lingering amid the in-
firmities of more than fourscore years,
waiting to depart, and who, within a
few weeks, both died within a few
days of each other. Mr. Rand then
bade what proved to be a final fare-
well to the scenes of his childhood
and youth, and went to the city of
New York, where he entered with all
the zeal of his earlier years upon the
practice of his chosen profession,
continuing in its prosecution until in-
creasing years and infirmities com-
pelled him to lay aside the pencil and
the palette. He lived some years
longer, but they were years of de-
pendence. He had rented a house in
the city, and by sub-renting some of
yohyi Rand.
the rooms he was able to preserve a
home, and while he could labor, pro-
cured a comfortable support. In his
last years he was compelled to learn
that bitter lesson which so many dis-
tinffuished artists and inventors had
learned before him, that the inher-
itance of poverty is too often the re-
ward of genius.
Mr. Rand possessed marked pecu-
liarities. As a man he was truly re-
markable. He stood nearly or quite
six feet and four inches in height,
erect and well formed, presenting a
physique which would demand atten-
tion in a passing crowd. There was
a self-poise about him, which, while
it was not haughty, was truly digni-
fied and noble.
Although he entered upon life at a
period when stimulants were common,
and when all classes indulged to some
extent, and too many very freely, yet
he, alike in youth and manhood, in
prosperity and adversity, stood firm
as a temperate man. No moral taint
ever attached to liis character. He
might have contracted debts which he
was unable to pay, still his intention
was truly honest, and his life Avas
virtuous.
The parents of Mr. Rand were de-
voted Christians, members of the
Baptist church. Like Zacharias and
Elizabeth of old, they walked in all
the commandments and ordinances of
the Lord blameless. At such an altar
of daily prayer John Rand, in his
childhood, received his first religious
impressions. From these for a brief
period his mind swung off into more
liberal views ; but with the soberness
of increasing years, and a more care-
ful study of the Word of God, he re-
turned, not only by conviction but
by a deeper heart experience, to the
faith of those who taught his infant
lips the prayer, "God be merciful to
me a sinner." In this faith he con-
tinued through all his wanderings by
land and sea, and through all the
vicissitudes of his Ions; and eventful
life ; nor can we doubt that from the
Saviour thus revealed his soul drew
consolation when turning from the
fading scenes of earth to the realities
of eternity.
Mr. Rand married Miss Lavinia
Braiuerd, of Vermont. They first
met in Charleston, South Carolina,
where she was the principal of a young
ladies' school. Although some eight
years his senior, they were very con-
genial, having the same literary tastes,'
the same views on religious subjects,
while neither of them seemed to pos-
sess the talent of accumulating prop-
erty. She was a relative of Rev.
David Brainerd, the distinguished
missionary to the Indians. Very
soon after their marriage they sailed
for Europe, and she suffered so se-
verely with sea-si(!kness and exhaus-
tion that her life was despaired of.
Once safely on the other side of the
ocean, she felt that she could never
return, and they determined to make
London their home. For a time they
lived in a very quiet way. Always
interested to speak on religious sub-
jects, she one day mentioned to a
near acquaintance her interest in for-
eign missions, and spoke of her rel-
ative Brainerd. This led to an intro-
duction to the morganatic wife of the
Duke of Sussex, the charming woman
whom Queen Victoria created Duchess
of Inverness. She became very much
attached to Mrs. Rand, and persuaded
the duke to sit for his portrait to Mr.
^'■Genius in Siois/iinc and Shadow.
Rand. From that time his success
was assured, and they were able to
afford a very hixurious style of liv-
iiiii;. When the portrait was finished
the duke gave theui a dinner, and in-
troduced them to many members of
the nobility. Many years after, in
the days of their poverty, she would
enjoy speai\ing of tiiis entertainment
and its magnificence ; but to Mr.
Rand it was painful, and he would
interrupt her with, '•• That is past and
sone. my dear: don't let us trv to
bring it back."
If I have been correctly informed,
Mr. Rand died in New York city in
the year 1873, and was buried in
Woodlawn cemetery. His funeral
services were conducted in the chapel
of Dr. Booth's church, Presbyterian,
Dr. Booth, and Dr. Williams, tlie late
eminent scholar and Baptist divine,
officiating. William Culien Bryant
was an intimate, life-long friend, and,
with other distinguished poets and
artists, followed him to his last rest-
ing-place. He left no children; and his
widow survived iiim but a few years.
No costly monument of granite or
marble marks the spot where repose
the remains of Mr. Rand ; but he has
left to his friends the memory of a
character crowned with integrity, vir-
tue, and religious faith, worthy of all
imitation, while both in this country
and in Europe remain many enduring
monuments of his skill as an artist,
and thousands who never knew him
are to-day enjoying the fruits of his
inventive genius.
"GENIUS IN SUNSHINE AND SHADOW."
The origin of those whom the world ments that it has been our pleasure
has called great — men who have writ- to read. He has drawn from the
ten their names indelibly upon the pages of history and his own memory
pages of history — is often of the hum- illustrious examples of the develop-
blest character. 8uch men have most ment of genius, even amid the most
frequently risen from the ranks, uninviting and unfavorable surround-
Oenius ignores all social barriers, ings. Daniel De Foe, Keats, Oliver
and springs forth wherever heaven Cromwell, Hugh INIiller, .John Bunyan,
has dropped the seed. The grandest Benjamin Franklin, Klihu Burritt,
-characters known in art, literature, Benjamin West, and hundreds of
and tlie useful inventions have illus- others, are cited as instances to illus-
trated the axiom tliat ''brave deeds trate that genius is independent of
are the ancestors of brave men;" circumstances. A galaxy of the names
and it would appear that an ele- of the world's great men is presented
ment of hardship is almost necessary' to demonstrate the fact that the hum-
to the effective development of true blest may rise to be the greatest. In
genius. That these facts are al- another chapter, Mr. Ballon effect-
most incapable of just denial, Mr. ually dispels, by practial illustrations,
Maturin M. Ballon further demon- the axiom that youth and rashness
strates in hi^ deeply interesting book, dwell together. Evidence is given,
''Genius in Sunshine and Shadow," ample and sufficient, that 3'outh is
which Messrs. Ticknor & Company, the period of deeds, when the senses
■of Boston, send to our table. Mr. are unworn and the whole man is in
Ballou has, in his volume of three vigor of strengtli and earnestness,
hundred pages, brought together the Mr. Ballou's book is crowded full of
most curiously interesting collection interest from cover to cover,
of facts bearing- out the above state- — Brooklyn Magazine.
One of Gov. Wcntworth's Last Official Acts.
ONE OF GOV. WENTWORTH'S LAST OFFICIAL ACTS.
I send you a copy of an original
document which I have sent to the
New Hampshire Historical Society.
The wording of the document makes
it quite a curiosity. The entire docu-
ment is in the governor's hand-writing,
and it is attested by no secretary. It
is one of the governor's last official
acts. He attempted to exercise no
authority in the state after July, 1775.
Who this Stephen Peabody was, I
have no means of knowing. It was
Nathaniel Peabody, of Atkinson, who
was the member of the Continental
Congress ; and Oliver Peabody, of
Exeter, who was the state senator for
raanv years. Please search the list
of representatives from Amherst in
Revolutionary times, and you may find
that it was in the ca[)acity of repre-
sentative that he gave offence to the
governor.
JOHN WP:NTWORrH.
Chicago, Ills.
Province of \
New Harnpsldre j
SEAL
George the Third
by the grace of
God of Great Brit-
ain, France and
Ireland King de-
- — r— ' fender of the faith
&c To the Sheriff
of our County of Hillsborough in our
Province aforesaid, greeting
Whereas We by and with the ad-
vise of our trusty and well beloved
John Wentworth, Esquire, Our Gov-
ernor and Commander in Chief in and
over our Province aforesaid did nom-
inate and appoint Stephen Peabody
of Amherst in our said County of
Hillsborough, Gentleman, to be a
Coroner witliin our said County to
do all those things which by our
Commission to him given and the
Laws in force within our said Prov-
ince he as a Coroner is authorized to
do and perform to which appointment
the said Stephen Peabody was after-
wards sworn. And whereas it now
appears to us not to be consistent
with Our Honor and the good of our
Subjects of our said County that the
said Stephen Peabody should be any
longer continued in the said office ;
We do therefore by and with the ad-
vise of our aforesaid John Wentworth,
Esq, our Governor and Commander
in Chief as aforesaid hereby super-
sede the said Commission and appoint-
ment of the said Stephen Peabody to
the office of a Coroner within our said
County of Hillsborough and do for-
bid his acting therein for the future
to every intent and purpose and
hereby declare any and every such
acts to be null and void.
You are therefore hereby required
to make known to the said Stephen
Peabody this our will and pleasure
and make due return hereof and of
your doings therein into the Secre-
tary's office of our said Province on
or before the thirtieth day of April
next.
In Testimony whereof we have
caused the seal of our said Province
to be hereunto affixed, Witness our
aforesaid Governor and Commander
in Chief the twenty fourth day of
March in the fifteenth year of our
reign, Annoque Domini 1775.
J WENTWORTH.
Hillsborough s.s. April 5 — 1775.
Pursuant to this precept to me direct-
ed I have made known to the within
named Stephen Peabody as I am
herein commanded by sending the
same to him.
BENJAMIN WHITING,
Sherif.
Localities in Ancient Dover
7
LOCALITIES IN ANCIENT DOVER.— Part II.
By John R. Ham, M. D.
Goat Island. The large island in
Pascataqiui river, and so called as
early as 1652, Ivins; a little to the
west of the mouth of Back river, and
jnst below the month of Little Bay,
near to the Durham shore. It was
granted in 1652 to Lieut. William
Pomfrett, and he conveyed it as a
gift to his grandson AVilliam, the son
of Deacon John Dame. When the
Pascataqua bridge was built, in 1794,
from Durham to Newington, the road
crossed this island.
Goddard's Cukek. So called as
early as IGGO ; it was the first creek
eastward of Lamprey river, in Dur-
ham, and flows into Great Bay. It
divided in part the counties of Rock-
ingham and Strafford, until 1870,
when the line was set over, and a
slice of Strafford county was cut off.
Great Bay (The). The body of
water formed by the junction of the
Squamscot, Lamprey, and Oyster
rivers, and which at the Little Bay
becomes tiie Pascataqua river. The
settlers called it the Bay of Pascat-
aquack.
Great Hill (The). The name
which was given as early as 1652, to
what in 1659 was called ''The Coche-
cho Great Hill," which from 1700 to
1834 was called Varney's hill, and
which since 1834 has, commonly but
erroneously, been called Garrison hill.
Whitehouse's map of Dover in 1834
calls it Varney's hill.
Great Pond (The). The name
which as early as 1650 was given to
the pond, which in 1674 was called
Cochecho pond. The latter name is
retained on Dover maps to this day ;
but it is commonly called Willand's
pond.
Greenland. So called as early as
1696 in land grants, viz., "on the
road leading to Greenland." It is
the town of that name.
Gulf (The). The name given as
early as 1656, to a swell in Cochecho
river, just below the head of tide wa-
ter, and which is retained to this day.
Half Way Swamp (The). The
swamp, so called as early as 1652,
lying south and west of Garrison
hill, south of Starbuck's brook, and
on the left side of the "Cartway"
which leads from the falls of the river
to the " Great Cochecho Fresh Marsh,"
which lay just to the north of Garrison
hill. It was half-way from the falls
to the last named marsh, and the
" Cartway " of 1652 is the present Gar-
rison Hill road.
Hartford's Ferry. In 1717, Nich-
olas Hartford opened a ferry between
Beck's Slip on Dover Neck and Kit-
tery.
Hayes's Garrison. In 1812 the
garrison of Lieut. Jonathan Hayes,
at the junction of the Tole End road
and the cross road that runs to the
second falls of the Cochecho, and at
the foot of WinKley's hill, was pulled
down. Lieut. Jonathan Hayes was
born Apr. 17, 1732 and died Apr. 15,
1787.
Haystack (The). So called in
Jonas Binn's grant in 1654. It was
near Branson's creeks on the west
side of Oyster river, near the mouth
of the river. What was it?
8
Localities in Ancient Dover.
Heard's Garrison. Capt. John
Heard's garrison, which was success-
fully defended in the Indian massacre
of Cochecho on June 28, 1G89, was on
the opposite side of the "cartway"
leading past the Great Hill. The
hill on which it stood is at the foot of
the Great Hill, and directly west of
the same. The "cartway" is the
present Garrison Hill road.
Hekoo's Cove. So called in 1664,
and was in Great Bay.
Herod's Point. A point of land,
so called as early as 1650, in Dea.
John Dam's grant, extending in Great
Bay on its south side.
Herod's Wigwam. There was an
Indian named Herod who had a wig-
wam on a point of land of same name,
in Great Bay, in IG.oO. The Dam
grant mentions botli the point and the
wigwam
HiCKs's Hill. See Mahorimet's hill.
Hilton's Point. The point of land
at the extremity of Dover Neck,
named from Edward Hilton, where
the settlement was made in 1623, and
which settlement took the name of
Dover in 1639. The Indian name of
the point was Wecanacohunt, some-
times called Wecohamet and Winni-
chahannat. Hilton's patent calls it
Wecanacohunt. It is now called Do-
ver Point.
Hogstye Cove. So called as early
as 1652, and it was the west end of
the southern boundary of Dover, now
of Newington, on Great Bay.
Hogstye Point. A point of land in
Newington, so called as early as 1656.
Hooks. A remarkable turn in
Belloman's Bank river, just below the
entrance of the Mallego, and so called
as early as 1694. The name was also
given to a remarkable turn in Laraper-
eel river, just below Wadleigh's falls ;
it is in the present town of Lee.
Hook Mills. There are two hook
mills named in the land grants. One
was at the hook of the Lampereel
river, near Wadleigh's falls, and one
near the hook of the Belloman's Bank
river. The hook mill on Bellamy river
was mentioned as early as 1729.
Hope Hood's Point. A point of
land thus named as early as 1694, on
the north side of the "Three Creeks,"
on the western side of Back River.
Tradition says Hope Hood, a Saga-
more and famous Indian chief, was
buried there. Hope Hood (alias Wa-
howah) , with three other Indians, sold
land on January 3, 1687, to Peter Cof-
fin, of Dover, and they called them-
selves in the conveyance the native
proprietors. The deed is recorded at
Exeter. In the French and Indian
massacre at Salmon Falls, on March
18, 1690, Hope Hood had twenty-five
Indians under him, and was allied to
a party of twenty-seven French under
Sienr Hertel. Thirty settlers were
killed and fifty-four captured. Hope
Hood was killed (says Mather) in
1690, and the same writer speaks of
him as "that memorable tygre, Hope
Hood." This point with land adja-
cent was granted to John Tuttle in
1642, and remained in possession of
the family till about 1870. White-
house's map in 1834 erroneously calls
it Hopewood's Point.
HucKiNs's Garrison, in Oyster
River parish, east of the Woodman
garrison, was destroyed by the Ind-
ians, and twenty-one or twenty-two
people massacred, in August, 1689.
Huckleberry Hill. The name
given as early as 1658, and which is
still retained, to a liill on the Dover
Localities in Ancient Dover. 9
Neck roivd. It is the long liill which Indigo Hill. A hill in Soiners-
one ascends before reaching the iiigli- worth, about three fourths of a mile
est elevation on the neck. below Great Falls, and so called as
Huckleberry Swamp. It was the early as 1()*J8. A road was laid out
Hilton Point swamp, and was laid in 1720 by the town of Dover, "■ be-
out in 1652 as the Ox Pasture. tween Quamphegan and Indigo Hill
Indian Brook. The brook which and beyond into the common." This
flows into Cochecho river on the east- road ran directly over Indigo hill,
ern side, and next above the fourth and is now closed up at that point,
falls of the same. The name was The new road between Salmon Falls
used as early as 1701 (Varney grant),, and Great trails leaves the hill on the
and its origin is unknown. It crosses risfht hand side between the road and
the " Scatterwit" road, and runs the river.
through tiie farm of Alderman Na- Johnson's Creek. This name was
thaniel Home. given as early as 1652 to a brook
Indian Corn Ground. A tract of which flows into Oyster river on the
land lying between Tole End and eastern side and next above Bun-
Barbadoes pond, and thus called as ker's creek. Thomas Johnson had a
early as 161J3, from which the settlers land grant there, and the stream per-
had laud grants from time to time, petuates his name.
Probably used by the Indians for cul- Knight's Ferry. The old ferry
tivating their corn prior to the settle- tween Dover Point and Bloody Point,
ment. Lampereel River. So called as
Indian Graves. A locality on the early as 1650, when Chris. Lawson
west end of Beach hill, in the north- and George Barlow bad permission
east corner of the town of Durham, from the town of Exeter to set up a
and so called as early as 1652. In saw-mill at Lampereel river, " a little
that year Philip Chesley had a grant above the wigwams ;" but prior to
of land from the town containing this date, in 1647, it was called Cam-
seventy-eight acres, " att y*" Indian pron river, and Elders Starbuck and
Graves," and in 1715 the Lot Layers Nutter of the Dover church had saw-
resurveyed it, and described the mills on the first falls, where the cot-
bounds as " beginning att the Indian ton mills of Newmarket now stand.
Graves, att Beach Hill, commonly so The Indian name of the first falls
called." was Pascassick, sometimes written
Another Indian burial-ground, ac- Piscassick, and again Puscassick.
cording to a land grant in 1659 to One of the western branches is now
Benjamin Hull, was on the south-west called the Piscassick. The stream is
side of Lampereel river, not far west now called Lamprey river,
of a mill that stood on the falls, and Little John's Creek. Little John
exactly on the town line between was an Indian, and his name was
Dover and Exeter, that is, on the given as early as 1654 to the only
town line between the towns of Dur- brook that crosses the Dover Neck
ham and Newmarket, as it existed road which requires a bridge. It is
till 1870. below the Wiugate farm, and is about
lO
JLocalities in Ancient Dover.
two miles below the city hall. It is
a tributary of Back River, on the east-
ern side, and the tide flows up the
brook under the bridge in the high-
way. Joseph Austin had a mill on
it in 1658. Whitehouse's map of
1834 calls it Varney's creek.
LiTTLEAVORTii. Tbe district on the
road leading to Barbadoes pond was
so called as early as 1724, and is re-
tained till this day. Whitehouse, on
his map in 1834, changed the name
to Trueworth to suit himself. It is
needless to say that no other individ-
ual ever called it by that name, nor
ever will do so.
Log Hill. The steep bank where
the Dover & Portsmouth Railroad
crosses the old bed of the Cochecho
river. It was the terminus of the
path leading from the " Logging
swamp" of Major Richard Waldron,
where the logs were tumbled down
the bank into the mill-pond.
Long Creek, It flows into Great
Bay on the north side, and between
Durham Point and the mouth of Lam-
prey river.
Long Hill lies about a mile and a
half north-west of Cochecho pond.
Little Bay. The contraction of
Great Bay at the eastern end, from
whence issues the Pascataqua river.
Long Point. So called as early as
16.")6. It projects into Great Bay on
the south side.
LuBHEKLANi). A locality in Dur-
ham bordering on Great Bay, and so
called as early as 1674. The attempt
to show that this is bad spelling for
Loverland is a failure. The old
grants use the name again and again,
and always Lubberland.
Madbury. a locality so named as
early as 1694, and now incorporated
as the town of Madbury. The origin
of the name is unknown.
Mahorimet. An Indian sagamore
who lived in the limits of the old town
of Dover. Samuel Symonds had a
grant of 640 acres of land from the
general court of Massachusetts, lying
on both sides of the " Upper or Island
falls" of Lampereel river, now Wad-
leigh's falls. This land was taken
possession of by Symonds on June 3,
1657, "in the presence and by con-
sent of Mahorimet, the sagamore of
those parts." The hill in now Mad-
bury was called after him, "Mahor-
imet's hill," till about 1725, when Jo-
seph Hicks bought land there, and
the title subsequently became "Hicks
hill."
Mahorimet's Hill. This Indian
name was perpetuated by the set-
tlers ; we find it in constant use from
1660 to 1725. It lies in Madbury,
and is now called Hicks's hill, from
Joseph Hicks who bought laud and
resided there from 1720.
Mahorimet's Marsh. So called as
earl}' as 1661, and for many years
after. It was adjacent to Mahori-
met's hill, and was probably the low
ground immediately to the south and
west of the same.
Mallego. The north branch of
Bellamy Bank river, and was thus
named as early as 1659. It arises
from Cate's pond in Barrington, and
joins Bellamy Bank river in the town
of Madbury.
Mast Path (The Great). There
were mast paths in various parts of
the town, but the one named above
was what is now the road to Little-
worth.
Meserve's Garrison. Clement
Meserve's garrison, now on land
Localities in Ancient Dover.
II
owned by Gerrish P. Drew, is on the
west side of the Buck River road, and
is in a very dilapidated state.
Moot, Mookt, or Moet. Bad
spelling for moat, and so called as
early as 1656 from its resemblance to
the moat or ditch which surrounded
old castles. It was applied to a mo-
rass in Oyster River parish on the
Great Bay, and served to mark the
bounds of certain land grants. "•The
little brook that cometh out of the
mooet" is mentioned.
Mount Sorrowful. So called in
1702, when Paul Wentworth had a
grant of land there.
'•MucH-A-DOE." The road leading
from Dover to " Much-a-doe" is men-
tioned in a conveyance in 1672.
Muchado is a hill in Barrington, and
the road referred to was, of course,
the Tole-End road.
Narrows (The). The narrow
channel in Cochecho river, about one
mile below the first falls. See Cam-
pin's Rocks.
Neeuom's Point. This was so
called as early as 1674, and was on
Great Bay in Oyster River parish.
Nicholas Needham was a member of
the Exeter combination in 1638, and
the point must have been named for
him.
Newichawannock. The Indian
name of the falls where the Berwick
("Great Works") river enters the
(now) Newichawannock river. But
the settlers applied the name to the
stream from Quamphagan (Salmon
Falls) to Hilton's Point, where it flows
into the Pascataqua river; and this is
the Newichawannock of to-day. The
settlers also called it the "Fore
River." See Quamphagan and Fore
River.
Newtown. So called as early as
16i)4, and the name is retained to this
day. It is in the present town of
Lee, about three miles north-west of
Hicks's hil,l.
Nock's Marsh. The grant of land
to Thomas Nock in 1659, lying on
the north side of Belloman's Bank
river, about one mile above tide
water. In 1659 William Ilackett had
thirty acres of land "between the
path that led from Belloman's Bank
to Cochecho," on the south, with the
freshitt (river) on the west, and the
land of Thomas Nock on the north.
The spelling has been changed to
Knox marsh by those who have for-
gotten the name of the original set-
tler.
Northam. When the Rev. Thomas
Larkham, formerly of Northam, Eng-
land, came in 1640 to the pastorate
of the First Church, Dover, the set-
tlers changed the name of the town
from Dover to Northam ; but when
Rev. Mr. Larkham left the town in
1641, the former name of Dover was
again adopted.
Otis's Garrison. Richard Otis's
garrison, which was destroyed on June
28, 1689, in the Indian massacre at
Cochecho, stood on the west side of
Central avenue on the top of the
hill, which is half way from the falls
of Cochecho to the "Great Hill."
Drake's Book of the Indians and
the Otis Genealogy erroneously place
the garrison on the east side of (now)
Central Avenue. Otis's house in
1655 was on the east side of " the cart-
wa}^" now Central Avenue ; but the
land grant was resurveyed to Rich-
ard Waldrou after the desolation of
Cochecho, and they confirm the tra-
dition that the garrison of Otis in
12
Localities in Ancient Dover.
1G89 was on the west side of the
"cartway," now Central Avenue.
Ox Pasture (The). It was laid
out as such in the Hilton Point
swamp in 1652, and was divided
among the inhabitants, with other
common lands, in 1732.
Oyster Bed. The settlers discov-
ered a bed of oysters in the stream,
which, from this circumstance, they
called Oyster river. It was half way
between the mouth of the river and
the first falls of the same.
Oyster Point. On one side of the
mouth of Thomas Johnson's creek, on
the east side of Oyster river, and was
so named as early as 1654.
Oyster River. So called as early
as 1640 from the discovery of a bed
of oysters half way between the
mouth and the first falls of the river.
The settlers gave the name to both
the stream and the settlement upon
it. The parish of Oj'ster River was
included in the limits of Dover till its
separate incorporation in 1736 as the
town of Durham.
Packer's Falls. The fourth falls
in the Lampereel river, in Durham,
was granted to Thomas Packer in
about 1750. The second and third
falls also are now included in "Pack-
er's falls."
Paine's Garrison. In the Indian
massacre at Cochecho, on June 28,
1689, Thomas Paine had a house on
the road leading from Cochecho to
Salmon Falls, now Portland street, at
the intersection of Rogers street.
Belknap did not mention it in bis
account of the massacre. It is
doubtful if it was or was not for-
tified.
Paquamehood. In 1665, James
Paquamehood, an Indian "of Tole
End," sold to James Rawlings " three
ponds and three hills, with all en-
closed lands and marshes." The deed
is recorded at Exeter.
Pascataqua. (One water parting
into three.) The Indian name of the
junction of the waters at Hilton's
Point. The settlers gave this name
to the stream issuing from Little Bay,
above Goat island, and which, receiv-
ing Back river on the west of Dover
Neck, and Newichawannock on the
east of Dover Neck, is lost in the sea
at Portsmouth. Early historians also
gave the name to the settlements up-
on the stream. The river is now com-
monly, but erroneously, called Piscat-
aqua.
Pascataquack. The early name
of the Great Bay.
Pascassick. The Indian name of
the first falls of Lamprey river, at
the head of tide water, where the cot-
ton mills of Newmarket now stand,
and which name the settlers also gave
to the western branch of the river.
Sometimes Piscassick, sometimes Pus-
cassick, in the land grants. The
western branch of Lamprey river is
now commonly called Piscassick.
Pine Hill. The hill on which the
third meeting-house of First church,
Dover, was built before July 16, 1713,
and where the dust of the fathers has
mouldered for generations, was called
Pine Hill as early as 1731.
Pine Point. A locality in New-
ington, thus named as early as 1664 ;
another Pine Point was on the Ne-
wichawannock, in 1693, just below
St. Albons cove.
PiNKHAM^s Garrison. It was on
Dover Neck, about half a mile below
the second meeting-house lot, and was
taken down in about 1825.
A yail Adventure. 13
A JAIL ADVENTURE.— Part II.
By William O. Clough.
"You should have seen tlie min- ously ejected me from the car, and
gled expression of surprise and con- when I gathered myself up and of-
tempt which stole over his counte- fered to show him my credentials, he
nance ; and then, to appreciate my laughed in my face and said he had
embarrassment, 3'ou should have good and sufficient reasons for be-
heard him say, — lievingthera to be bogus. I attempted
" 'Young fellow, that is an old and to reason with him. He would not
very gauzy device, and if you don't listen; he simply said, in a gruff
disperse yourself in double quick voice, 'Young man, I've got about
time, I'll see to it that you have safe out of patience with you ! You look
quarters at the station-house.' to me like a crank. Yes, sir, and if
"You may set it down as a cer- I were not under positive orders to
tainty that I 'dispersed m3'self' with- go with this train for the protection
out any more ado, and I kept dis- of the party from just such unprinci-
persed until the hour arrived for the pled intruders, I would run you in for
party to move on to the next city." investigation.'
McVeaigh's countenance now took "You may set it down as a cer-
on more of earnestness, and his voice tainty that I was greatly embarrassed,
became hard and belligerent. and that I hesitated concerning the
"My troubles," he continued, "as next move, and whether or no it was
it turned out, had but just begun. In prudent to continue the evidently un-
a confident and joyous manner I went equal contest.
on board the special train that was to "In my dilemma I appealed to the
take the party on its journey. When conductor of the train. He proved
in the act of making some inquiries to be an unusually important and dis-
of a palace car conductor, a colored obliging public servant. In fact, my
gentleman, a hand was placed rudely pathetic story had no more effect
and heavil\' upon my shoulder, and I upon him than it would have had
was felled into a corner with unneces- upon the Old Man of the Mountain,
sary violence. The policeman who He was travelling on a reverse curve,
'dispersed' me had me by the coat and he curved opposite to my humble
collar." person with great dignity.
McVeaigh paused. An irrepressi- " 'I cannot do anything for you,
ble emotion of indignation momenta- my friend!' he said, giving me a
rily overpowered him. He nervously withering and scornful glance. 'If
changed the position of his body, and you are particular about continuing
when lie spoke his voice was harsh your journey to-day, the proper thing
and belligerent. for you to do will be to purchase a
"He shook me for all the world as ticket and secure a passage on the
a terrier shakes a rat !" he exclaimed, accommodation train, which follows
indignantly. "He then ignomiui- us in thirty minutes.'
14 A Jatl Adventure.^
"I explained, begged, scolded, and tory suddenness that nearly stopped
swore, but all to no purpose. His my breath.
heart was like flint, and his decision "I expostulated, I resisted, I
irrevocable. struck right and left with all my
" ' Clear out, or I'll hand you over might, I kicked. I declared that I was
to a policeman!' he exlaimed in a pursuing a legitimate calling ; that his
pompous manner. interference was unwarrantable ; that
"I was in mortal fear of a police- I would take the law on him ; that un-
man, and so I cleared out with re- less he immediately and uncondition-
markable alacrity. ally released me he would get into
"The next and last individual with trouble that would cost him his com-
whora I sought an interview — the mission.
bao-orao-e-master — informed me, in " Mv mad antics and loud declama-
words more emphatic than polite, that tion did not have the slightest effect
there was a representative of my upon him. He did not appear in the
newspaper in the refreshment car, least frightened, neither did he turn
and therefore he was satisfied that I pale or loosen his gri[) on my collar,
was a cheap fraud. "This little episode, however,
"While I was debating the question caused a great sensation and a com-
witli him the train moved out of the motion in the crowd. The procession
station. halted. Everybody within hearing
"Gentlemen, hearing no objection, of the tumult rushed upon us, and
I will now omit an elaboration of my became interested spectators. Some
experience iu the next hour. I will of the men attempted the role of
simply say that I was very despond- peacemakers ; others talked fight, and
ent ; that the accommodation train threatened vengeance on the police-
was behind time ; that it was slow ; man ; children, who were trampled
that when I arrived in the next city under foot, shrieked with terror, and
my mental condition rapidly improved, women fainted; while a dandified fel-
and I imagined myself in a place low, who had the appearance of a
where the prerogatives of the profes- dancing master, queried, 'What's he
sion are respected. been doing?' and a plug-ugly (if I
"Ah ! but I was doomed again to am any judge of mortal man) shouted
dire and dreadful disappointment, as savagely, 'Let him go!'
the sequel will show. ICven to this "The policeman was equal to the
day I cannot reflect with composure emergency. He drew his revolver,
upon the events which followed. and ordered the mob to stand back.
'•With your permission, however, The effect was like magic : everybody
I will condense mv harrowins; tale at stood back. Meanwhile I continued
this point, and simply say that I made to show fight, and called on the peo-
my way to the main street, and when pie to rescue me : he clubbed me. I
pushing nervously through the crowd hung back : he dragged me. Yes, I
a heavy hand was again laid upon my blush to own it, tluit policeman ac-
shoulder, and well, that same tually dragged me to the city jail.
policeman snatched me with peremp- "At the guard-room my pockets
A yail Adventure. i
D
were searched for evidence that I was cells on my right and left and in the
a dangerous man in the community, opposite corridor. Modesty was no
and I was catechised concerning my part of their education. They spoke
birth, parentage, occupation, and age ; in the vernacular of the street, and
to all of which the answers were truth- with the familiarity of old friends and
ful, but were not believed. I was acquaintances.
told that my conduct was suspicious ; "'You've got the finest parlor
that I had been faithfully shadowed, f what's in the hotel, Johnny,' chuck-
and, painful as the duty might be, it led a small boy, who climbed about
was necessary to lock me up. on the bars of his cell door with all
"Well, I made an earnest and elo- the agility and evident enjoyment of
quent appeal to the chief. He lis- a caged monkey at a menagerie,
tened patiently. I declared over and "'And the villain still pursued
over again that I was a newspaper him,' remarked a seedy, middle-aged
man, and had an important and im- man, in a husky, stentorian voice;
perative dut}' to perform ; that to while a third person — an old man,
doubt me was little less than a crime ; who was evidently behind the bars
that to commit me was to disappoint becauseof light-fingered proclivities, —
the journal upon which I was em- said, in the glibbest manner possible,
ployed, and perhaps ruin my pros- 'My son, it grieves me to the heart
pects in life. to meet you in marble halls. You
" 'That is what they all say,' he are young, and probably think your-
coolly replied. He promised, how- self innocent of the crime for which
ever, to give my case his considera- you are apprehended. It won't do !
tion as soon as the rush of business Up you go ! In brief, it is my duty
was over. to inform you that the court — bavins:
"I was then hurried below, my considered the offence to which, by
name, age. and occupation recorded the advice of able counsel, you have
in a book kept for that purpose, and pleaded nolo contendere — orders that
compelled to accept quarters in a dis- you be confined at hard labor in the
mal cell. penitentiary for a period of five years ;
" Merciful Providence ! It was the that you pay the cost of prosecution,
worst place, as it then appeared to and stand committed till sentence be
me, that I had ever beheld. And performed.'
such companions! The vilest that " 'And may God have mercy on
ever breathed the damps of a dun- your soul !' bawled an idiotic youth ;
geon. whereupon the happy family sent up
"The key was turned in the lock, a peel of laughter that made the old
and ray captor hurriedly departed. dungeon echo.
"I was dazed and frightened. I " Oh, but it was a wicked place !
was weak and confused, and there- " There were nearly a dozen of these
fore it was several minutes before I hilarious captives, and every one fa-
fuUy realized what had happened to vored me with remarks or sugges-
me. I remember, though, the mocking tions.
sociability of those who occupied the "A wreck in a cell at my right ad-
1 6 A 'Jail Adventure.
vised me to promise to sign the pledge, is prejudicially and unqualifiedly false,
^d 'go on probation ; ' another sug- ' Rum, my dear brother in misfortune,
gested that it was proper to 'squeal is what does the business for us!'
on the seller,' and thus go free ; while "The wretched and disorderly
still another, — a sort of patriarch in specimens of humanity in the other
law-breaking, and a person whose cages were divided on this point,
greatest weakness was an inordinate Some said ' That's so,' but the greater
affection for the flowing bowl, — ob- number groaned, and declared that
served that the court had soured on the speaker was • too-too for his busi-
most suffering and deserving human- ness ;' while the moment the hilarity
ity, and therefore I might consider ceased a moderate spoken individual
myself lucky if I got off with six of fifty, who pretended to deprecate
month at the famous watering (hie) the levity of the gentlemen, who, 'for
place known in the county as the reasons best known to the polite and
Mountain House. efficient gentlemen of the police de-
"The most crushing blow, how- partment of our growing and enter-
ever, came from a miserable woman prising city,' were cruelly, and with
on the other side of the corridor, malice aforethought, denied the privi-
'Why, yes it is!' she exclaimed, lege of American citizens to witness
hysterically. 'It is my long lost the procession, insisted that he rec-
brother ! And to think, Dennis, that ognized in me a member of congress,
you should come to this ! Alas, for a wise statesman, and sympathizing
the good advice which I have given friend of the deserving poor and
you! All wasted!' needy. 'Fellow-citizens, who, like
"Her speech was hailed with every myself, have come to this extremity
mark of approbation ; in fact, the because of the men who broke the
whole motley crew bellowed like banks, and who are still at large, we
fiends infernal. must dissemble. This gentleman in
"There was a pause in the pro- number ten was committed at his
ceedings, and I had begun to congrat- own request. He has taken this
ulate myself on the end of their un- method of ascertaining facts and in-
seemly conduct, when a human dwarf, formation that, when fully evolved
— clean shaved, and evidently a per- and established, will undoubtedly re-
son who had spent a good share suit in needed reforms in the maiiage-
of his days behind prison bars, — in- ment of city, county, and state board-
sisted on being informed, 'privately ing-houses, and thereby ameliorate in
an' 'pon honor,' whether or no there a large degree the suffering of the
was a woman in the scrape. He had, members of a worthy class of well
so he said, ironically, been gathering meaning but shockingly misguided
statistics for a number of years, and fraternity known among men of let-
was now prepared to demonstrate to ters, and those bummers of the daily
a nicety, before any unprejudiced tri- newspapers, as law-breakers. My
bunal, that the statement going the dear sir, accept our apology for the
rounds of the press that the dear sex rude reception you have received
are mixed up in most of man's crimes among us.'
A ydil Adventure. 17
" He called for tliroe cheers. They ter, rtittling of cell doors, and other
were given with a will, and orna- signs of approval,
mented with several tigers; and then "Presently the whole crew desired
the turnkey of that dungeon came to he interviewed, and the wickedest
among us, and raved, scolded, and man in the prison assured me that he
swore, and declared that unless the would tell all the secrets of the city,
racket ceased he would gag the whole under oath, and as much more as I
bilin'. would pay a reasonable price for.
" It was such a party, gentlemen, "■ That I was a very unhappy 3'oung
as I hope I may never be compelled man, and desperate withal, I have
to meet again under like eircum- never to this day doubted, and that I
stances. importuned and attempted to bribe
" In my feverish anxiety and mor- every officer who came within the
tification I imagined that all the fiends sound of my voice it would be useless
of the infernal region surrounded me. to deny. Moreover, I shall never be
I was fast losing control of my nerves unmindful that 'kicking against the
and becoming strangely bewildered; pricks' is a useless exercise; that it
and yet I had sufficient presence of is the part of wisdom for a man who
mind to attempt to calm myself, and is compelled by untoward circum-
argue that my incarceration was the stances to remain in custody as a
result of a mistake. The poisonous prisoner to make the best of the sit-
atmosphere of the place had some- nation, and spend the time in congrat-
thing to do, I think, with my de- ulating himself that he is in luck that
spondency. so little is known about him.
'•Meanwhile my tormentors con- "But what was I in for?
tinned their disjointed observations, •'• 'Pickpocket' was the significant
and that terribly depraved woman her word written against my name on the
moaning about her poor, unfortunate book of entry. 'Pickpocket!' I
brother Dennis, and the prisoner saw the officer write it.
with the stentorian voice kept up his "Pickpocket! The thought of it
random and oratorical debate on re- caused me to tremble, and the per-
form, or something of that sort. 'I spiration to start from every pore in
have him at last!' he shouted in a my body. I paused in serious medi-
voice of thunder. ' He's a government tation. The full force of the cora-
detective, who has come among us plaint dawned upon me. My strength
high toned and labor-hating aristoc- began to fail. T was wild with im-
racy for the purpose of discovering, patience.
if be can, who beats the great, glori- "Pickpocket! 1 repeated over and
ous, and high-minded American insti- over again, the while standing by the
tution in the important matter of the iron door of the cell listening to the
taxes on the necessities of life — discordant jargon of my fellow-pris-
whiskey, beer, and tobacco.' oners, and inhaling poisonous odors
'• This statement was hailed with that made me faint and sick,
shouts of 'Good, good!' several ''Pickpocket! I had written the
rounds of applause, mocking laugh- word a hundred times, but it never
1 8 A 'Jail Adventure.
had a significant meaning until now, fine point, and are not disposed to
In ray loneliness and despair I sat give them the benefit of many doubts,
down upon tlie side of my bunk, and, "But I had become shockingly un-
half believing that a history of my balanced. The crime of which I was
strange experience in jail would make suspected, and for which I was com-
a sensation article for the newspaper, mitted, increased in magnitude as I
took my note-book from my pocket contemplated it, and was made more
and endeavored to analyze my symp- appalling by tiie thought that possibly
toms, and to make a pen picture of for some years my companions were
my companions and surroundings. I to be the class of adventurers whose
could not accomplish anything. Con- hideous noises and jeering speeches
centration of thought was a lost art were ringing in my ears. Strange to
with me, and I doubt if I could have say, my imagination conjured up all
correctly spelled and written my the evils that could possibly befall
name. 'Pickpocket' was the one word the worst criminal in the land. And,
in my vocabulary. I paced the floor moreover, what if the overzealous
in anxiety and misery. The more I witnesses for the government should
•exercised, the more impatient and des- identify the ten-dollar note which the
perate I became. I was in the dark- officer had taken from my pocket for
uess, despondency, and gloom of the safe keeping ! What if I should be
inquisition. Strange fancies and hal- recognized as an old offender; as a
lucinations oppressed me, and dark criminal who had ' done time ' in the
forebodings of evil consequences pos- penitentiary of some other state ; as
sessed my mind. I felt — for I fully an outlaw on whose head a price was
realized my condition — that I was set ! More, what if ray conduct in
uearing the critical point where reason attempting to bribe my jailer should
and judgment are dethroned. be construed as corroborative evi-
"I was a stranger, and they took deuce of ray guilt!
me in. AVhat if they should insist "Fear, fear in the worst possible
on keeping me? What if some re- form, was upon me. I lost all con-
spectable and reliable citizen should trol of my reasoning faculties and
appear as my accuser, and swear ray judgment. The perspiration
with convincing positiveness that at oozed from every pore in my body,
the moment the policeman's hand was and my nerves fluttered like a leaf in
placed upon my shoulder he felt my the wind. The future looked dark ;
hand in his pocket, and was all the there was no oasis in it. Hardships,
more certain of the facts because of and possibly loss of reason, seemed
the seal ring upon my finger, which among the certainties of the future,
he was positive tore a hole corre- The light and joy had faded out of
-sponding in size in the lining of his my life.
c(}at ! "In my distress and despondency
"You will observe, gentlemen, that I could not recall that I had a friend
it was a conviction with me that pros- in all the wide world who would be
ecuting officers figure the evidence likely to assist me in the hour of my
against a suspected person to a pretty great affliction and necessity. I felt
A "Jail Adventure. 19
that I was poor, in misfortune, and "And so I struggled with doubts
forsaken. Ruin stared nie in the and fears, with fluctuating hopes and
face ; my cliaracter was forever black- grave apprehensions, with dread and
enod ; thenceforth I was branded a uncertainty, till my reason was tem-
felon ; there was stain upon my gar- porarily dethroned, and I became a
inents ; all my old associates would wild and raving maniac. I threw my
believe the worst of me ; I should lose coat and the contents of my pockets
my place, and no reputable journal upon the floor and trampled upon
would give me employment. them ; I beat my new silk hat into a
'• This, my friends, is no picture of shapeless mass ; I dishevelled my hair ;
the fanc}', no overdrawn sketch from I ruined my patent leather boots by
the imagination. It is a truthful re- kicking against ray cell door; I broke
port of an actual occurrence. the stool which the jailor had kindly
"An hour passed wearily. The light loaned me into kindling wood ; I de-
becarae dim, the place more sombre stroyed the clothing of ray bunk and
and gloomy, and the outlook for the raved like a hungry tiger in a cage,
night more appalling. "What should INIy strength was something wonder-
I do? What could I do? To whom ful, my passion ungovernable. My
could I apply for relief ? How would chaffing companions in durance vile
my employers construe my absence were for the nonce silent and re-
from duty, my silence? What would spectful.
become of my wife and child? What " My friends, as I pause and look
would my mother-in-law say? The back upon that scene, and consider
last thought overpowered, staggered my experience, I discover that there
me, and I reeled against my dungeon were some very strange and perplex-
wall like a victim of intemperance. ing sensations, sensations that I shall
" Was I childish? I will not pre- never be able fully to fathom or
tend to say I was not. I will only clearly define. It appeared to rae
add, in passing, that all temperaments that I had two minds independent of
are not alike, — and then continue my each other, and two individualities,
narrative by saying that I fell upon By the more demonstrative mind I
my face in the bunk of that horrible was wrought up to the highest pitch
place and wept like a child who had of nervous excitement. My eyes, I
broken its favorite toy, or a frail vei'ily believe, were glassy ; my head
w^oman who moans some sudden and was burning with fever ; I was thirs-
overwhelming bereavement and will ty ; great drops of perspiration rolled
not be comforted. from my forehead and fell ui)on the
"Gentlemen, in that awful hour of floor; my tongue was swollen; my
delirium and suspense my mind chased blood was on fire. I was desperate,
many foolish phantoms, and my over- JNIy one overpowering desire was my
tasked imagination builded many bar- liberty. Underneath all this was aa
riers between my future and the undefinable sense of feeling that now
bright sunshine that never seemed so appears to me like my normal condi-
glorious and beautiful as when its tion of mind. I could reason to a
warm rays were denied rae. certain point, but the raeutal strain
20 A Jail Adventure.
strain on the other key was so much which wa}' I might, take the most
greater that the conclusion was not favorable view of the situation I could
clear. I could see and in some de- master, there was no dawn that fore-
gree understand what I was about, shadowed a bright future. I lay in
and yet there was an idea that there that bunk a broken-hearted man, a
was a somebody else in all that was wreck, a human being who thought
transpiring, for whom I entertained himself dead to this world, and who,
emotions of pity, but over whose in his disordered mind, was passing
movements and reckless deportment away from its trials. i)erplexities, and
I had no control. Sometimes the disappointments,
thought would be clear that it was ^-A little later and these \\g\y im-
myself, and then there would be a aginings passed away, and great hap-
feeling of shame that my wits were piness came to me. I laughed at the
not strong enough to subdue my body sufferings and remorse of tiie hours I
and control my tongue. On the other had spent in tlie dungeon's gloom,
hand, running counter and distinct, They were but the flimsy fabric of a
as I have already stated, was unrea- dyspeptic dream, release from which
soning madness. caused a buoyancy of spirit in which
"A little later I became exhausted, bi'ight prospects were in the ascend-
laydown and immediately fell asleep, ency, and hope everywhere renewed.
It was a troubled sleep, for I looked I saw mvself surrounded by my old
into the prison ' at the other end of friends ; there was warmth in their
the valley,' and lived the secluded greeting, and joy in every word that
and burdensome life of a convict. I was s[)oken. I beheld the beautiful
was fatigued from labor and suffered world, more beautiful now than it
for companionship. I longed with an ever appeared to me before. I was
aching heart for the cheer and smiles assured of success as a journa-list,
of the friends of other days, and the and my future seemed secure. Added
society of the young men and young to this was the new happiness which
women whom I had known and loved I beheld in my wife, and a knowledge
in the days of my freedom. I sighed that my report of the affair which I
for the free air of heaven ; I yearned had been assigned to write up had
for an hour among editors and print- reached my journal on time. In the
ers ; I envied the oflice devil ; and I midst of all, the managing editor had
wondered if any one of them would said my work was intelligently and
acknowledge that he ever knew me. satisfactorily performed, which to a
More particularly did I grieve because man of my desjionding mood was
of the disgrace my downfall would sufiicient ground for more of happi-
bi'ing ui)on the woman I had sworn ness than I could well express. I
to honor and cherish, the child born dreamed a good deal more ; and when
to us. and also upon my aged par- I awoke and realized that it was only
ents. a dream after all, I was more misera-
"• While in this condition of body ble, if that were possible, than I had
and mind I fancied that I could wel- been before, and had less control over
come death, for I somehow realized my mind in directing it to a successful
that it would end my suffering. Look resistance to gloomy forebodings.
A yail Adventure. 21
"In a word, 1 lost my courage. "The c^liief — I have forgotten h
IS
The old fear came upon me with add- name — was a man of wide experience
ed force. Prison walls and cell bars, and wise discrimination. He had not
hard task-masters and scanty food, been long enoiigli in the business to
stared me in the face and thrilled me be calloused. In a word, he took me
with terror, such terror as I had never in at a glfvnce, and somehow reassur-
before experienced, and which 1 pray ed me that all would come out right.
I may never again experience. Faint- I began to see silver linings in the
ness, weakness, and nauseating sick- dark clouds. Said he, —
ness followed. T moaned and cried " 'Young man, you are under arrest
piteously. Presently I was a raving on a very serious charge, which, if
maniac, and, although conscious that proven against you, is at the minimum
I was making a fool of myself, passed five years in prison. I will say to
through the trials that beset me be- you, however, that from the" best in-
fore my dream. It was terrible, I formation I can ol)tain, and after a
assure vou. After a while I became searching examination of the ffentle-
active again ; and shortly after, a voice man who claimed to have been robbed,
at my cell door aroused me and par- but who was not, I have come to the
tially restored my mental equilibrium, conclusion that you should be dis-
I staggered to the now open cell door, charged from custody at once, and
I shall never forget my feelings or my personal assurance given that the
the look of [)ity which the officer gave officer making the arrest exceeded his
me, as I inquired what was wanted. duty. He should have used his judg-
" ' You are wanted at the chief's raent rather than have acted upon the
office,' replied the man in blue and request of an excited complainant. I
bright buttons emphatically, his voice regret exceedingly the annoyance to
and manner robbing me of the last which you have been subjected, and
ray of hope to which, like a drowning sincerely hope the circumstance will
man who seizes upon a straw, I had not work to your disadvantage among
tenaciously clung. your companions, or cause you trouble
" I followed him mechanically, with with your employers. You may go.'
trembling body and feeble step, with "It was exceedingly cold comfort,
such dread of consequences as I have but I took it without murmur or argu-
siuce imagined must possess the mind ment, and suddenly, 3'es, hurriedly,
of a condemned man when ascending put that city jail behind my back. I
the scaffold from which he is to be suppose I ought to have thanked him,
launched into eternity. How I man- but I did not. At least I have no
aged to pilot myself through several memory to that effect. The truth is,
dark passage-ways and up a flight of my anxiety to get into the sunlight,
winding stairs I shall never be able to regain my freedom, to demonstrate
to make clear to myself. It must be, to my satisfaction that I was not in-
I think, that the officer assisted me, sane or dieaming, was such that I
for somehow I have an indistinct rec- had no thought of anything else, and
oUection that his hand was upon ray was therefore completely off my guard
arm. in the matter of the manners, which
22
A 'Jail Adventure.
are :i part of the stock in trade of a
well regulated journalist, and which
he is expected to exhibit at all times
and under all circumstances to all
people."
There was an ominous pause and
profound silence, in which it was
somehow made as clear as sunshine
that Mr. Bragg desired to speak the
tag or control the storv-teller. He
evidently knew the end from the be-
ginning, and feared that some one
was likely to be in some way exposed
or compromised.
McVeaigh quickly comprehended the
situation, and in a side speech, which
we did not understand, gave some
sort of assurance which overcame the
brother's modesty, and caused him to
withdraw threatened interruption.
" When I reached the next city,"
continued McVeaigh, " I met Brother
Bragg, and this is what came of it :
"'What became of you.?' he in-
quired.
" Of course I acknowledged that I
had been in durance vile, incarcerated
in a city jail on the serious charge of
larceny from the person.
" ' I heard so,' he replied, ' but did
not have the time to search you out.
I should have returned, however,
after doing this place, if you had
not put in an appearance. But you
are all right below. It was a pretty
hard job, considering the magnitude
of the event, to double and duplicate
despatches successfully, but I suc-
ceeded. Your report went in on time,
and in your own name, and here is
the evening edition of your paper,
which proves it.'
''You maybe sure a heavy load
was lifted from my mind, and guess
that I thanked him and gave assur-
ance of my gratitude and my happi-
ness."
"What happened a year or so
later?" inquired Mr. Bragg.
"What happened? Why, I met that
same chief of police at the Parker
House, in Boston. He recognized
me. We engaged in a chat like two
old school-day cronies that had not
seen each other in many years. Just'
as we were on the point of separation,
he looked me squarely in the face,
and in a frank and manly way said, —
" ' I ought to tell you something
that you would like to know, and
which you have probably never mis-
trusted, about your incarceration in
the jail in the city which I have the
honor to represent.'
" I assured him, of course, that I
would like very much to hear it.
" 'A short time following that un-
happy experience in your life,' he
continued, ' I learned upon the most
positive evidence that a jealous jour-
nalist from a neighboring city " put
up the job" on you. In other words,
he cheated an ambitious and over-
zealous policeman by making him be-
lieve that he knew you as a celebrated
New York thief who had done ser-
vice, and for whose apprehension a
reward was offered. It was a trick to
get vou out of the wav, so that he
could secure exclusive reports of the
events which were happening.'
"We laughed heartily ; we have been
good friends ever since, and I can
get the best accommodations in the
matter of news of any outside man
who visits that chief's borough.
" Gentlemen, you have the full
particulars of 'A Jail Adventure.' "
Early Manners and Customs. 23
EARLY MANNERS AND CUSTOMS.
By Mary R. P. Hatch.
Fiction is sometimes truer than his- can tell? but we know that the blood
tory or biography, — paradoxical as it of the pioneer has baptized every
may seem ; for in dealing with feel- land where gleams now the light of
ings and motives, one can reason from happy homes.
the inner consciousness, and, by a Anon the foot-path in our forest
natural sequence of ideas, arrive at has become a bridle-path, for seven
truer understanding than by the ren- families have wrested from the wil-
dering of facts as they appear in in- derness their log huts. The sound
cident and event. of the axe is heard on the clear air ;
Thus, in a work of the kind we have the wild beasts recede somewhat,
in hand, it is lawful, I think, to allow coming now at nightfall to howl
the imagination to roam over the fer- around their dwellings, or to gaze
tile fields of the past, and gather here through the windows at the family
and there posies of thought ungar- seated about the blazing fire ; while
nered bv the strict historian. Manv the Indian, with growing hatred,
times have I gazed beyond the beau- passes by, or scowls at the peaceful
tiful, mosaic meadows at the gleam- sight from behind the bushes,
ing surface of our winding Conuecti- Ah ! and here comes a horseman,
cut, or stood upon its banks, and As his horse's feet fall with soft thud
fancied myself back to the time when upon the yielding earth, he is saying
the primeval forest with its under- to himself, perhaps (who knows?),
growth of bushes lay close to its as did Tennyson's Northern Farmer :
banks, and rendered our now beauti- t^ . -. .v , . , .
'■ Do sn't thou ear my orse s legs as they canters
ful valley well-nigh impassable, ex- awaay?
cept to the trained hunter or the Ind- P'-^P^rtty, propertty, propertty, that's what i
'ears 'em saiJy."
ian. And I can see now in imag-
ination the dusky savages silently But we love to think it was some-
assembling from behind the trees, thing besides property that induced
stepping into their bark canoes, and our forefathers to settle in the wilder-
floating down the river witli hunting ness. High courasfc and dauntless
or warlike intentions. Again, I see will were theirs first of all, and these
the adventurous white man entering traits, united to the smiling valley
the wilderness after his toilsome they have left us, make a priceless
march of a hundred and fifty miles, heritage indeed.
blazing his way by cutting notches in The pioneer has invariably been
the trees — alert, and daring to thus possessed of unusual character ; for
brave the Indian and the wild beasts it requires not only great hope, force,
in their forest home. He has passed, and courage, but discrimination and
Will he return in safety, or fall a vie- endurance, to successfully map out
tim to his dauntless courage? Who and plant a colony : so when it is said
24 Early Manners and Customs.
of a man that be was oue of the first ''AH work and no play makes Jack
settlers, respect should immediately a dull boy — and Jill, a dull girl," per-
embalm his memory. haps reasoned the elders. Anyway,
Our forefathers were always, like- they accepted the idea of first work
wise, men of great individuality. In and then play, and so was instituted
cities there is to be found the finest the husking frolic, the apple-bee, the
symmetry of character, but strong quilting, and, at last, amusement
individuality is far more rare, owing without its modicum of work — the
to the constant friction of mind upon junket. Let us again call fancy to
mind, which is apt to wear away the our aid, and go to the house of some
strong points of individual character, local magnate where thei-e is to be a
and to make too many of the same husking frolic and junket. Perhaps
pattern. The man remarkable for it is a husking-bee. Let us say that
action is seldom a growth of the tiie log hut has given place to the
city, but an influx from the country. Luge, square structure with many-
How often do the newspapers give paned windows, its keeping-room and
the names of prominent men who long kitchen, and its immense chim-
came from the [)low or the anvil to ney breaking out into every room
head the lists of the city in honor and with the broad, kindly smile of an
wealth. Genius can thrive only wlien open fire-place. \n the long kitchen
certain faculties are allowed to sub- the hearth-stone, of more than a ton's
jugate other ones to their needs, and weight, and eiglit feet long, stretches
this cannot go on so well in cities before the fire-place — watchful, rest-
where all ideas must more impartially ful,and clieering. An immense back-
come to the front. But genius is a log, as thick as a man's body, forms
kindly tyrant when upheld by the the foundation of the big, roaring
twin sisters Industry and Persever- fire, and around the leaping flames
ance, and the natural growth of the cluster privileged guests, while the
sturdy first settler whose individuality small aspirant for future honors sits
grew strong and rank in his forest in the corner of the fire-place study-
home. Shut out as he was from in- ing his horn book, or watching the
tercourse with the outside world, it stars that gleam so kindly above his
often bristled into points, however, head.
and anecdotes of our ancestors prove The brick oven has been thrice
the truth of this assertion. heated to bake pumpkin pies and
Deeds of courage, feats of strength, ginger-bread for the " s|)read," and
and tales of hunting valor show these the squire's wife is happily conscious
old worthies to have been worthies of the good things in the pantry as
indeed, but men who would have she sits placidly knitting. On this
pined and sickened in our day of night of the frolic the long kitchen
easy action. Prominent in every set- has been cleared, the settle and
tlement was the church, and around chairs are placed primly against the
this as the nucleus grew up those wall, while a stool for the fiddler seta
interchanges of civilities which finally on the table at the further end. The
were merged into merrymaking or crooked necked squashes still hang
frolics. by the fire-place ; long strings of
Early Manners and Customs. 25
dried apple are festooned oveihead ; story" was just as old then as now.
while groups of wooden candle-sticks At luiskings the blind god is impris-
nre nailed to the rafters. A huge oncd in the ear of red corn, the lirst
pile of corn extends the length of the fnuler being entitled thereby to kiss
kitchen ; and now the company Ix'gin whoever he chooses,
to arrive, on foot and on horseI)ack, l>ut tlie yellow corn lays bare of
the young man sitting in front, his girl iiusks now, and many hands make
behind him on a pillion. High tones liglit work of clearing the long
and merriment usher in eacii party, kitchen for the dance. Black Pelham
and jokes, making up in laughtei- mounts the stool on the table, tunes
what they lack in wit, fly about the his fiddle and rosins his bow, while
room. Homespun, that one year the cou[)les range themselves in long
covers the sheep, and the next, its lines down the kitclien : and then the
owner, sets well if not easily on the dance begins Agility and s[)eed
young man. His shirt collar, of took the place of grace in tliose days,
home-made linen, is uncomfortably and the ligiitest dancer was reckoned
high and stiff, as the red, tortured the best, — he who could spring
ears plainlv show (but what will one straiglit upward over a foot, keeping
not undergo to be well dressed !) ; time to the music, being a fine one iu-
a buff vest gleams in front, while a deed. It once happened that a young
swallow-tailed coat, from the pocket man sprang so high that he got en-
of which dangles a colored handker- tangled in the strings of dried apple,
chief, adorns the wearer; small-clothes and brought several yards of it on to
and buckled shoes complete the cos- the floor.
tume, — unless I speak of the hair, The husking ends early, and the
which is combed straight back to end young peo[)le go home none the worse
in a queue behind. Stout, honest, and for their frolic.
merry, the delicate beau of to-day can- The quilting was an afternoon
not compare with these "sparks" of a festival for the matrons and maidens,
bygone generation. And the girls, — ending by the men's coming to shake
white-necked, rosy-cheeked, briglit- the quilt, to eat supper with them,
eyed, and jolly, in their short-waist- and, sometimes, to dance awhile
ed, scant-skirted, big-sleeved, linsey- afterwards. The quilt was pieced of
woolsey gowns, with stout shoes, hair home-made flannel, dyed with indigo,
braided high and with ornaments of mulberry, or madder, and stuffed
gold beads or a silver comb ! What with wool. Tiie writer of this chap-
noble-hearted matrons they made, ter has an old quilt of this descrip-
and how we honor these great-grand- tion, which has been handed down
mothers of ours ! But the}' are not through several generations,
taking a peep into futurity, nor at us. The apple-bee was another sober
their unworthy descendants, but are festival ; but the junket was without
sitting in couples around the heaped- work, and a more ambitious one, oc-
up corn, singing old ditties, cracking casionally taking place at the " tav-
jokes, sipping home-made cider, and ern stand."
whispering love, — for the "old, old Training-day was a piece of mill-
26
Early Manners and Custojns.
tary display without doubt very
pleasant to the survivors of the Rev-
olution, while the general muster was
a grand review that called out all the
martial spirit of the day. Many old
people now living describe with great
interest the appearance of the troops
and officers, and relate anecdotes
concerning them.
But I linger too long on the border
land of to-da}'. Let us go back be-
yond the century. I find myself in
the church, or the meeting-house,
with its boxed-up pews, and the
women ranged soberly on one side,
the men on the other. The deacons'
pews and the squires', with other local
magnates, are at the front ; and, in
some places, the galleries are for in-
ferior people, while little niches high
up hold the colored worshippers.
Plainly our forefathers did not be-
lieve in equality upon earth, however
it might be in heaven. But the min-
ister ranked highest of all in the
social scale, a liberal education giv-
ing him a prominence borne out by
his calling. His wife often bore the
title of Lady, and the congregation
arose when she entered the church
and stood until she was seated. The
tithing-man with his rod stood watch-
ful and ready to quell the youngsters'
unseemly mirth, and to awaken the
brethren when they slumbered under
the lengthy sermon. The sounding-
board was fastened just above the
minister's head to throw the sounds
downward, and which, but for this,
it was thought, might fail to reach
the congregation. The prayer was
fervent and exhaustive, ending al-
ways with a petition for King George
and parliament. Then the hymn was
lined by the minister and sung by the
congregation. This was the dark
age in music, and I have seen it stat-
ed that a hymn begun in one tune
was only too apt to end in another
quite different, as every one sung as
he listed, and the loudest singer came
out triumphant, dragging his tune ta
the front.
The women carried in their hands
a kerchief and prayer-book, with a
sprig of fennel or caraway to nibble,
as they were popularly supposed to
possess a keep-awake quality, not
always borne by the sermon. But
two hours in length ! Think of it, yoi>
who cavil at the half-hour sermon of
your pastor, who strives hard to put
the thoughts of a week into a nut-
shell for the benefit of the hurried
worshippers. Tennyson's Northern
Farmer, stupid, sottish, and conceit-
ed, says, —
"An' I halliis corned to schoorch afoor my Sallf
wor dead,
An' 'eprd 'em a bummin' awaay loike a buzzard-
clock ower mv ypiid ;
An' I niver knawed what a mean'd, but 1 thowt a
'ad summuf to saiiy.
An' I thowt a said what a owt to a said, an' I
comed awaay "
But our northern farmer was dif-
ferent. Critical, conscientious. God-
fearing, he came to hear the Word,
with a spice of dissent, and a daring
mind tiiat was ever ready to argue
upon baptism, regeneration, and fore-
ordination with the minister, who was
himself often a man of character.
Parson Moody, who was settled
over the first church in New Hamp-
shire, had a faitli as great as that of
the early martyrs, but bright, hope-
ful, and humane. Tradition tells us
that he took a pair of shoes from his
wife's feet to give to a worthy but
unfortunate person, and then knelt
down and prayed fervently for an-
other pair to replace them. His faith
was requited, for a pair of shoes soou
arrived.
The Old North Church of Concord. 2*]
THE OLD NORTH CHURCH OF CONCORD.
Read in the Abbott Chapel, Jan. 27, 18S7.
Upon this spot, where church and chapel stand,
But eiglit score years ago was wild-wood land.
Here tangled forests echoed to the tread
Of dusky warriors and their war-whoop dread.
Where now yon shapely spire points to the sky,
Were loft}' pines with summits full as iiigh,
Beneath whose branches, in the grateful shade,
Have wandered Indian brave and Indian maid.
Here in their wigwams by the river side
Have countless generations lived and died ;
Here were their pleasures few, their many woes ;
Here were their feasts, their battles with their foes.
Here, when their lords to hunt or fish had gone,
The squaws would cultivate their patch of corn.
Here lived the mighty chieftain of their race,
In war so valiant, cunning in the chase.
Now all have disappeared and left no trace
Save in the names whicii dignify the place.
Contoocook, Merrimack, and Soucook, too,
And Penacook, are names they left to you.
For them no cemetery was laid out,
Their dust o'er hill and vale is spread about.
Were they unhappy? Let us view the case :
They had the pleasures of the hunt and chase ;
They had no rum-shops in or near the place ;
They had no politicians, no ring rule ;
The boys and girls were not confined in school.
They had no counting-house, no shop, no mill ;
They had no gas, no coal, no butcher's bill.
They had no pigs, nor cows, nor hens to feed ;
Of saw, and axe. and books they had no need.
They had no engine shrieking through the night ;
Thev had no motor, and no horse to fright.
They had no parlors then to sweep and dust,
No nickle-plated silver-ware to rust ;
No contribution box, no bank to burst ;
No tariff high or low, and no free-trade ;
Of competition they were not afraid.
28 The Old North Church of Concord.
They had no corporations then to fear,
And no hand-organs rasping on tlie ear.
They lived on venison and salmon-tront,
And on the whole knew what they were about.
In fact, our friends, the aborigines.
Of trouble borrowed none, and lived at ease, —
Indeed had no one but themselves to please.
Into this Indian paradise there came
A white man from the south in search of game :
'Twas Ebenezer Eastman, known to fame.
This Ebenezer was of great renown,
And claimed as pioneer in many a town.
Behind him came the Walkers, Bradleys, too.
The Ballards, Farnums, Abbotts, Smiths a few.
The Kimballs. Chandlers, Holts, — good men and true.
With Christian zeal their manly hearts were warmed :
Here in the wilderness a church they formed.
They laid out present Main street, straight and wide,
And built a meeting-house close by its side ;
Divided land in lots of equal size.
And in their ways were circumspect and wise.
When they had finished preparations all.
The Reverend Timothy Walker had a call
To settle as their pastor in the fall.
For over fifty years he led his flock —
In times of peace and in the fearful shock
Of Indian wars brou^lit on bv foreio-n hate,
When many settlers met tlieir frightful fate.
He served them faithfully until the end,
A As pastor, justice, counsellor, and friend.
For them his house was made into a fort ;
For justice pleaded in a foreign court ;
He faced the storms upon the ocean's breast;
His life he gave to labor — not to rest.
No doubt he had his hair done in a queue,
Wore silver buckles and knee-breeches too.
We think he could distinguisli right from wrong ;
We know his cane was nearly five feet long.
We think he rather liked his joke and fun ;
We know that he could handle sword or gun.
He christened children, funeral sermons preached,
Joined man and maid when proper age was reached ;
Attended to his duties, great and least.
The Old North Church of Concord. 29
For all the country round was toachcM-, irricst.
In fjict his parish was the township wide ;
From distant farms they gathered to his side.
From Turtle pond, from Broken Ground near by,
From Break o' Day, and from the Mountain high,
From the Dark Plain, and from the Sugar Ball,
From Long pond. Horse hill, and from vSewall's fall,
From Mast Yard. Garvin's, Millville, Turkey pond,
Would gather children and their parents fond
At the old meeting-house at the North End,
To hear the sermons of their reverend friend.
Some came afoot, with shoes and socks in hand :
To save the leather was this method planned.
Some came on horseback with the wife behind :
The horse-block where they landed one will find
In Mr. Walker's door-yard at North End,
To prove my statement and the truth defend.
For many years the church and town were one —
Long after Mr. Walker's work was done.
The Reverend Israel Evans next was called,
Then A. McFarlaud was in turn installed.
Then fresh from Yale and Andover there came
Nathaniel Bonton, — honored be his name ! —
Whose history of the town increased his fame.
'Twas here he labored from his early youth
To green old age, instilling gospel truth.
His heart led him his Maker to adore,
His iiead was filled with antiquarian lore ;
He loved not history less, but Scripture more.
E'en now there seems to linger round this place
His gentle presence and his noble face.
Next came our present pastor, Mr. Ayer,
Who now for twenty years has held the care
Of church and flock, and lead us on the way.
The old, the young, the sad ones and the gay,
To where he teaches is eternal day.
If Mr. Chase will now the church doors lock,
Or hold them firmly as tlie granite rock,
And let no guilty one from here escai)e
Save o'er his mangled form and manly shape,
We '11 try X.o pliotograph for you the flock,
But no one's sensibilities will shock.
3© The Old North Church of Concord.
We first will note our agricultural friend
From Watanummon's brook at the " north end."
All through the state have greedy grangers hung
Upon the accents of his silver tongue.
From classic Yale he came, and saw no harm
To cultivate his fame and till his farm.
'Tis said he was presented to the queen
As representative of grangers green.
We have with us an unpretentious man
Who gives his time to study, thought, and plan.
With stores of solid wisdom he is blessed,
His high authority bv all confessed.
They like them most who know the Pillsburys best.
If in our title we should find a flaw,
And were compelled to grapple with the law,
We have with us a man of legal lore.
Who knows not onlv law but something more :
Of wisdom Justice Dana hath a store.
The best of men are sometimes rather small,
The largest men are oft not good at all :
We cannot judge of goodness by the size :
We do not know, we hardly realize
How much of good in Deacon Farnum lies.
O"
However, in our 3'onth we learned at school
That some exceptions did but prove the rule :
When nature builds on her most lavish plan,
She often gives all virtues to the man : —
Hath she not done so with good Captain Ann?
Of deacons we could have as many more,
But as it is, we get along with four :
There's Smith, and Morrison, and Ballard, too,
Each one a Christian leader, tried and true.
And still another, not yet quite so old.
Modest and pure, and, if the truth were told,
As true as steel, as good as Moulton gold.
Our youthful choir I hope are somewhere near,
That they a word of honest praise may hear.
Each of the singers hath a pleasing voice,
And, when they sing in concert, make a noise
Which hath a charm to sooth the savage ear,
The Old ]Vo7't/i Church of Concord. 31
And wring from liardest heart a silent tear.
To all of us the choir is very dear :
We are attached because they are so nice,
We would not hint they 're " dear at any price."
Our organist deserves a word of praise,
Who only for the love of music plays.
He filled the old North church with music sweet :
To him and to us all 't would be a treat
To have him play again as in old days.
For Doctor Carter was the organ bouoht :
I think we all esteem him as we ought.
Oh ! may he speedily his health regain —
Be strong and well, and with us once again.
We should, however, rank beneath the brute,
Did we not value high his substitute.
Our Jewels bright we do not wish to scorn,
Nor skip another, though a constant Thorne.
From old colonial days are handed down
Familiar Ballards, known about the town.
From Charlestown, when the British fled, we find
The Bunkers came, but left the hill behind.
Wisconsin sends to us a chieftian brave
Whom I will mention, nor his blushes save :
Of warlike anecdote he hath a fund : —
A warrior battle-scarred is General Lund.
Nor should we leave the Abbotts in the lurch,
For thev, indeed, are longest in the church.
From them we get the latest Vassar lore,
And knightly deeds as in the days of yore.
While some with New Year's a new leaf will turn,
We turn two Pages, who for wisdom yearn,
And still have many pages yet to learn.
They only seem to care for public weal,
And labor for the common good with zeal.
From Scotland came the Stewarts, who can trace
Their lineage straight from Scotland's royal race.
The family here rank quite as high as when
In Scotland they were lords and noblemen.
And cut a roval swell, the storv goes,
And could wear antique armor when they chose,
While here they cut a royal suit of clothes.
32 The Old JVorth Church of Concord.
We have with us a scholar versed, indeed,
In all the wisdom human beings need : —
A ready writer, clear, concise ; and cool,
Etflcient teacher in his [)rivate school ;
A man already widely known to fame —
Why deed I mention Amos Hadley's name?
If banks we want, we need be at no loss
While we have amiable and gentle Cross.
Indeed we run the very smallest risk
In leaving all our wealth with Mr. Fiske.
One thing alone prevents our being rash, —
Not want of confidence, but — want of cash !
We have with us a politician grav,
Not one, however, who will friends betray ;
A grateful state enlists him in her cause,
And trusts him with the making of the laws :
From Enoch Gerrish, senator-elect.
The highest statesmanship we may expect.
Now many more would my attention claim.
To fitly honor or [)ronounce the name ;
But there, the door you need no longer hold,
Although my story is but partly told :
There are so many gathered in one fold,
I cannot do full justice to them all, —
Perhaps would better not have tried at all.
But if you will for just a moment wait,
I will a very mournful tale relate :
\It is the sad and melancholy fate
Of one who tried to pass St. Peter's gate,
But was, I grieve to say, a little late.
But better late than never, I contend.
To brino; my nonsense rhvme to sudden end.
Abraham Lincoln.
33
ABRAHAM LINCOLN'
Appropriately Jionored bi/ the Iic])uhlicans of Neio Hampshire at the Second Banquet
of the Lincoln Club, at the Eagle Hotel in Concord,
Tuesday Evening, Feb. 13, 1887.
[From the Concord ^[onitor.'\
In point of numbers, enthusiasm, and elo-
quence, the meeting of the Lincoln Club of
New Hampshire at the Eagle hotel, Tuesday
evening, was so great a success that it will long
be remembered as one of the most notable
events in the history of the Republican party
in New Hampshire. The attendance was not
only very large, but it was made up of repre-
sentative Republicans from all parts of the
state. Under the direct supervision of the sec-
retary', M. J. Pratt of this city, the arrange-
ments had been made so complete that there
were no unpleasant delays and no disappoint-
ments. John L. Clark acted as treasurer in
the unavoidable absence of Hon. E. H. Wood-
man. The seating of the large company at the
banquet tables was admirably looked after by
Charles A. Herbert and Will W. Stone, and
Norris A. Dunklee acted as door-keeper.
Blaisdell's orchestra gave a delightful concert
in the office of the hotel from 8 to 9, and dis-
coursed choice music during the hour and a
half that the discussion of the menu was in
progress.
The banquet is pronounced the best ever
served in this city ; it certainly reflected the
highest credit on Col. John A. White, the
Eagle Hotel, and all who had a share in its
preparation and its completion. The menu
card bore on one side, "Eagle Hotel, Concord,
N. H., Tuesday, February 15th, 1887."
Above the menii was a portrait of Mr. Lin-
coln, over-arched by the words "Lincoln Club
of New Hampshire. " The dinner was served
admirably in courses, and was as foUows :
Oysters on Deep Shell.
Clear Soup.
Chicken Halibut. i otato Croquetts.
Fillet of Beef with Mushrooms.
iSoued Turkey with Jelly.
Lettuce. Vei/etables. Celery.
CLlcken Salad.
Orange Sherbet.
Larded Grouse.
Saddle of Venison, Currant Jelly.
Vanilla Ice Cream. Assorted Cakes.
Green and Dry Fruit.
Tea. Coffee.
At the head of the table in the centre of the
dining haU sat the president of the club, Col.
Charles H. Sawyer of Dover ; on his right
were Hon. C. H. Burns of Wilton, Capt. Hen-
ry B. Atherton of Nashua, Hon. Henry Rob-
inson of this city. Attorney- General Barnard of
Franklin, Hon. AVilliam E. Chandler of Con-
cord, Hon. David H. Goodell of Antrim, Hon.
John J. Bell of Exeter, and Councillor Peter
Upton of East Jaffrey ; Councillor B. A. Kim-
ball of this city occupied the position opposite
the president, and on the latter' s left were
Rev. A. P. Rein, pastor of White Memorial
Universalist church of this city, Col. Daniel
Hall of Dover, Charles R. Corning of this city,
Hon. 0. C. Moore of Nashua, Hon. Edward H.
Rollins of this city, Hon. Dexter Rieliards of
Newport, Councillor C. W. Talpey of Farm-
ington, and Councillor M. L.Morrison of Peter-
borough. Before the members of the club
took their seats at the handsome tables, grace
was said by Rev. Mr. Rein. After the sever-
al courses of the banquet had been duly con-
sidered. President Sawyer arose, and gracefid-
ly opened the speaking of the evening as fol-
lows :
Gentlemex of the Lincoln Club: It gives
me pif asui e to see such a large attendance here to-
ii'Srht at this second meeting of tlie Lincoln Club of
New Hampshire. It coufirms what seemeil app ir-
eut Sit the first meetintr, that there is a strong in-
terest felt iu tliis ort:aniz itioii by the Republicans
of the state. We miiy reasonably hope that
as a means of bringing togetlier members from
throuo-hout the state it will not only be a benefit
socially, but a'so a valuable and efficient aid in
promoting tlie interests of tbe party.
We are here to ce'ebrate the anniversary of the
birth of Abraham Lincoln. Strictly, the mei ting
should have been on the 12th. That date occur-
ring this year on Saturday, it was thought advisa-
ble to defer it until this evening, as being more
convenient for members in attendance from
the more remote parts of the ftnte. The Club
could not have beeu more houorably or more ap-
propriately named.
The memory of Lincoln is growing to be more
and more liouored and revered with the lapse of
time. It is a name that appeals to the hearts and
sympathy of a loyal and grateful people. A man
of the humblest origin, he was destined by Piovi-
dence to lead this nation through the terrible and
mo I entous struggle which was to demonstrate to
34
Abraham Lincoln.
the world that we were a nation, and that a repub-
lican foru-. of government couM be ra lintaiiifd
uji'ler the irreatest strain to which it could be sub-
jected—that "f civil war His great services end-
ed with his life, and he will be ranked with Wash-
ington ill the heirts of his countrymen, Mnd in his.
to'-y as one ot the greatest benetautors of the hu-
man race.
SPEECH OF CAPT. H. B. ATHERTON.
The address of Captain Atherton was well
delivered and extremely interesting. It was
as follows :
Mr. President and Gentlemen: I first saw
Abraham Lincoln in the spring ot 18.i4. The news
tliat Senator Douglass hal reported from his com-
mittee a bill repealing the Missouri Compromise
h^d runsr out through the country 'like a tire-bell
ill the night." The state of Illinois wis ablaze
with indignation. I was at Springfield at the
meeting of the extra session of the legislature iu
February, when that measure w is under discus-
sion, and 1 well remember the intense excitement
of the occasion. Shortly after, on the 22d of
March, it became ray good fortune to listen to the
trial of a cause in tlie Morgan county court in
which Mr. Lincoln t'>ok part as couns 1. He was
associated with Judge Brown of Springfield for
Vo,f defence. A Mr. Smith and Murray McConnel
of Jacksonville were the plaintiff's lawyers. The
suit was brought by Silsby, editor of the Jackson-
ville t/^wrz/a/, a free soil paper, gainst one Dun-
lap, a pro-slavtTf Democrat, for a personal assault
wiiich had been provoked by some politicil or per-
sonal allusion ti> him in the paper. I remember
that my sympathies were wholly wiih the plaintiff
and against Mr. Lincoln's client, for the assault
had been an aggravated one with a cane, and as a
boy, with rather strong anti-slavery procliviiies, I
was prejudiced against the defendant, his conduct,
his politics, and very likely against his counsel
also; and y^t I was delighted with the argument
of Mr Lincoln, which made a lasting impression
on my mind. I recall the expr-ctitiou I had that
"Judge" Brown was to do something commensu-
rate with his title, anil the surprise I felt t lat he
was so much surpassed by his ftssociate. The jury
gave the plaintiff .fSiiO, and ought probably to have
given him more; but that night I put down in my
not? book. "Mr. Lincoln is a very good speaker,"
and that was very true.
Thou J h then 45 years old, he was but little known
outside his own state. He had been in the practice
of the law seventeen years. He had served two or
three terms in the state legislature and one in Con-
gress, and, as candidate for presidenti il electo'-,
had stumped the state both in 1840 and 1844 for the
Whig party.
Before he began to study law he had begun to
advo'iate those principles which later made him a
representative Republican. In 18 <2, when he an-
nounced liraself at the age of twenty-three a can-
didate for the legislature, he sdd, in whit must
have been about his first political speech, "I am in
favor of the internal improvement system and a
high protective tariff." i wenty-three years later,
when his most intimate friend, Speed, inquired of
him how he stood, he wroe, "I ihink I am a
Whig. * * « I now do no more than
oppose the extension of slavery. I am not a Know
Nothing : that is certain. How could I be? How
could any one who abhors the oppression of negr.ies
be in favor of d gi ading classes of white people ?"
Sprung from the ranks of the "plain people"
himself, nis sympathies were always with tlie poor.
Born among the poor wliites of a border slave
state, where labor wis degraded, good schools
made impossible, and the door to advancement
closed by the b'ight of hiimm slavery, he had,
through hi-i own experience and that of hin parents
before him, become cons ious of the great wrong
and injustice to the wliites, and the great misery
and wretche Iness to the negroes caused by slavery.
His kind heart could not witness unmoved the dis-
tress of a dumb anitnal, and much less could he
bear to see the oppressed slaves at their unrequited
toil. Poverty, weakness, distress, or misfortune
never appealed to him in vain.
He sought distinction wit lout diszuise or hypoc-
risy. He covete I the good will of his fellow-men,
but always sought to merit it. He was intellectual-
ly as Well as morally honest, and as he never de-
ceived others so, he neper deluded himself. Of
such material were the men who originated the
Republican party, and Mr. Lincoln was a fair rep-
resentative of that party, .i vast majority of its
voters were working men, intelligent, conscien-
tious, and patriotic.
Within the uast few years men have protested
against being compelled to compete with the labor
of a few hundreil unpaid convicts in the prisons, or
of a few thousand economical Chinese on the Pa-
cifi ; coast, who with no families or c'urches to
su|)port, are able to underbid in the labor market
the honest Christian, who lives like a man, sup-
ports his wife a'ld chddren, sustains schools and
churches, and performs his whole duty as a citizen:
and I believrt there is some ground for an open and
manly protest in that direction. But the grievance
from tuese sources is the merest trifle compared
with the intolerable competi ion of three millions
of "chattels real," — African slaves fed on the
coarsest of food, clothed with the cheapest of gar-
ments, and working for no pay whatever. That
WIS the substantial grievance which the white
workingmen of t'le country, uniting under the
name ot the R-^publican party, openly combined
to meet. It cheapened the wiges of the white man.
It cast odium on honest labor — that blessing in dis-
guise without which no race ever emerged from bar-
barism, and no individual ever attained to a whole-
some and healthy growth. It retarded civilization,
denied the rights of man, and was at war with our
free institutions. It grew strong, aggressive, and
detiant. It proclaimad "('otton is knig!" and cap-
italists at the North timidly bowed before His Maj-
esty.
Making use '"f the Democratic party as its agent
and instrument, slavery began an advance along
the whole line. The oiijective points of this con-
certed movement were to nationalize slavery and
ultimately to reopen the African slave trade, and
thereby still further to cheapen labor. Men
brought cargoes of slaves from the Congo coast and
landed them on the shores of the Southern states
■w itli no apparent fear or danger of punisument.
The area for slavery was enlarged by waging a war
of doubtful justice upon a sister republic ami de-
spoiling her of a large portion of her territory.
The fugitive slave law was passed which compelled
free men in the North at the will of a United
States marshal to take the place of blood-hounds
in the South in hunting down the fugitive flying
from an intolerable thralldom. Iu the U. S su-
preme court the Dretate men.
Od all sides it was expected of him that he should
again take the stump in opposition to Mr. Doug-
las ana the aggressions of the sbive power. The
famous deb ite of 1858 between them made Mr.
Lincoln well known to the whc.le country, and
wit'iout doubt the si iial abili'y which he then
displayed, the moderation and fairness of his
views, coupled with his inflexible tirmness for the
right, made him the candidate of the Republican
party in 18§0.
In his speeches he did not deal in second-hand
ideas His practical tr lining prevented his being
bookish or fond of abstractions From his own
wide experience with men and nature he drew
illustrations familiar to himsf If aTid to his audi-
ences. He was not inclined to the use of invective,
and was slow to applj hard names to his oppo-
nents He prefered 'o appeal to their intelligence
and sense of iiistice, an to convince them
through their reason. He never undertook to per-
suade men by personal abuse. In his public dis-
cussions he seems to have neen always charitable
towar s those who dirt'ered with him, apparently
believing they might be honestly wrong, and seek-
ing to win them to his way of thinking. He
never claimed for himself or hi- party all the wis-
dom ami viitue of the country, nor denied a fair
share to his oppon. nts ; and" yet U'der his wise
counsel, and in a large mea ure by his efforts, the
anti-s'avery Whigs, the free-soil' Democr. ndered irapotsible forever hereatt-r,
with the Pacific Riilwav built, and a generous
homestead given to every settler, all uiuier the ad-
ministration of the first president elected by that
party, the country has gone on in a course of pros-
perity never equalled before, and has grown so in
j)opiilalion, and so multinliri'l all those comforts
ami necessa'ies of life which go to make up the
collective we 1th of a peo)ile. that it has become
the most populous, the wealthies', and, I may add,
the most powerful natioi: in Christendom. It leads
the van of civilization.
Rut it is natural for us to be not quite satisfied.
It is hard to let well enough alone. Toe best is not
quite good enough; and it is as well so, otherwise
if we were too easily coutent we sboul i make no
progress. In this age of boycotts, lockouts, and
strike", su cessful and otherwise, we hear a great
deal about socialism, communism, niliilistu, anar-
chy, the land ques'tion, and vaiious other move-
ments founded on the assumption that capital mustf
always of necessity bw at war with labor. On this
assuin|)tion the workingman is invited to align
himself w.th this or that movement, and by so do-
ing better his en ition. Now, there was a time
when to a certain extent labor was at war with
capital. That was the time when the Democratic
party said c ipital had a right tob.iy and own labor.
The Republican party, composed as it was of work-
ingmen, took the opposite view, and said the con-
verse of th-i proposition is true, and that instead of
capital owning tlie laborer, the laborer should own
the ca|)itul, as mu h of it as possible; and for the
past thirty years that party has done everything to
help him to take t lat position with regard to capi-
tal. A high protective tariff gives high wages to
the workm m, and, so long as his tea and coffee,
his beef and flour, his hou-ie rent and doctor's bills,
and nine-tenths of his clothii g pay no duty, the
co*t of living is not perceptibly increased by the
tariff. By reason of the protective tariff, advocat-
ed by Lincoln in 1832 and put in operation under
his administration by a Republican Congress, hun-
dre 's of thousanr's ot laborers have found com-
fortable homes in this country, who, but for that
Reput'lican measure, would have had no pecuniary
inducement to come t > us across the Atlantic.
Upon thi^ que tion of the relation between labor
and capital, which to-day perplexes the minds of a
gooii many hone?t men, we are not left without
words of gu dance from the sagacious and far-see-
ing Lincoln In his message to Congress in Decem-
ber, 1861, no' w thstanding the public mind was
intent ui>oii the pro-ecution of the war, he spoke
of the attempt of the Confederacy to place capital
on an equal footing, if not above labor, and enum-
erated fallacious assumptions on which they pro-
ceeded. He said they assumed that labor is avdil-
able only in com ection with capital ; that nobody
labors unless induced thereto by somebody else
owning capital, either by hiring or owning the
laborer ; that w hoever is a hired laborer is flxed in
that condition tor life. "Now," he said, "there is
no such relation between capital and labor as
assumed ; nor is there any such thing as a free man
being fixed for life in the condition of a hired
labo er. Both these assumptions are false, and all
inferences from them are groundless. Labor is
piior to and independent of cipital. Capital is
only the fruit of labor, and could never have exist-
ed if labor h.ad not first existed. Labor is the supe-
rior of capital, and deserves much the hiiiher con-
sideration. Capital has its rights, which are as
worthy of protection as any other rights." He s id
a few men possess capital, and with their capital
hire another few to labor for them, but a large
majority North and South, were neither masters
nor si IV. s, hirers nor hired. Men, with their fami-
lies, wives, sons, and daughters, work f"r them-
selves on their farn^s, in their houses, and in their
shops, tik'ng their whole product to themselves,
and asking no favors of capital on tue one hand or
hired laborers on the other.
"Again," Mr. Lincoln repeat-, "there is not of
necessity any such thing as the free hired laborer
being fixe to that condition for life," and then he
ailded in words, whic'i, though I read them first
while in carnf) in Vi -uiiiii more than twenty-five
years ago, I think I shall never forget because they
ure so true of our people: ".Many independent
men eveiywhere in these states a fiw yeirs bick in
2,^
Abra/iani Lincoln.
their lives were hired laborers. The prudent, pen-
niless beginner in the world labors for wages
awhile, saves a surplus with whicli to buy tools or
land for himself, then labors on lis own ai'count
another while, and at len-zth hires another new be-
gjinnertohelphim.Tliisis the just and generous and
prosperous system which opens the way to all,
gives hope toall, and consequent energy and prog-
re^s and improvement of c jndition to all. No men
living Hre more worthy to be trusted than those
who toil up from poverty ; none less in dined to
taU I- or touch aught which they have not honestly
earned."
T lese words of Abraham Lincoln are as wise and
true to-dny as they were when first uttered, and
they are still the d ictrine of the Republican party.
,Wliile capital has a right to protection, labor is
still its superior. We recognize the fact tiiat hn-
DiHU beings are of more consequence than d jUars,
that persons are more precious than things, and,
h ippily for the workingman, imder a fre^ govern-
ment, the parry that by precept or example teaches
oth-rwise, will soon tiecome a mere plutocratic
remnant without v^tes
I c jMgrntulate the members of our club upon the
na lie we have assumed, and I venture to predict,
that so lon'i as the Republicans of Nhw Hampshire
continue to honor the na'ne of Lincoln and tollow
his example and teachiims, they wi'l deserve and
continue to receive the support of a great majority
of the intelligent people ot the state.
• SPEECH OF COL. DANIEL HALL.
The oration of Colonel Hall received the
close attention of every one present, and was
able and eloquent. It was as follows :
Mr. President: I understand that I am ex-
pected to occupy a few minutes of your time in
speaking of " Abraham Lincoln as a Man." The
theme is too large for me, and crushes me at the
beginning. It is like speaking of the sun: and as.
while we stand in the full efiiilgenee of that great
luminary, flooding the world with its light and
warmth and life-giving power, it is impossible to
disentangle and analyze its various and many-hued
rays of benelicence, so is it difficult to emphasize
any separate aspects of this illustrious and many-
sided character. The mere character of a great
man not seldom confers greater benefits upon the
nation, and upon the ejjoch in which he lives, than
any, or even all, of his specific achievements. I
have sometimes thought that such was the minis-
try to us of the life of Abraham Lincoln; for
though it \v:is given to him to connect his name
inseparably with some of the greatest events in our
history, — the overthrow of the Rebellion, the
maintenance of the Union, the emiincii)ation of the
slave, — yet, when we consider the great moral
authority his name has gained, the ideas and asso-
ciations'that cluster about that unique individual-
it) , how his iuHuonce and example and ])iecepts
have ui)lift<;d this jicople in their whole being, it
seems as if he had brought a new force into our
national life; had set in motion a tniin ot benign
influences which is to go on without limit, so that
in future his age is to lorm a new date and point
of depurtuie 
