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THE
GRANITE MONTHLY
A New Hampshire Magazine
DEVOTED TO
HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, LITERATURE,
AND STATE PROGRESS
VOLUME XXI
CONCORD, N. H.
PUBLISHEIJ BY THE GRANITE MONTHLY COMPANY
1896
v.ZI
Copyright, 1896
By the Granite Monthly Company
Concord, N. H.
Printfti, Illustrated, and Electrotyped by
Republican Press Association (Monitor Press)
Concord, Mew Hampshire, U. S. A.
The Granite Monthly.
CONTENTS OF VOLUME XXL
s Page
jfiily — Dece7nber, i8g6.
ACHSAH Wray, L. a. Caverly .....
A Lover, Moses Gage Shirley .....
Andover, Miss M. J. Hersey .....
A New England Poet — James E. Nesmith, H. M. .
Another New England Poet — Philip H. Savage, H. M
A Pembroke Farmer, H. H. Metcalf
A Sketch of Dublin, H. H. Piper ....
A Sketch of Marlborough, Sullivan Holman McCollester
A Song of the Pine Forest, Ray Lawrence . .
As THE Bud Must Bloom, Persis E. Darrow
A-SwixG in the Old Home Garden, Frances H. Perry
At Home, Bela Chapin
Aunt Betsy's Thank-Offering, Mary Jenk
Autumn, F. H. Swift .
A Warrior, Samuel Hoyt .
A. W. E., O.v Middle Ground
Babcock, M. W., From Naples to Genoa
Bachelder, N. J., Mrs. Alice A. Dow
Mrs. Annie E. Hutchinson
Bartlett, John H.,'The Harmony of Silence
Benedict, Milo, Night on Moosilauke. A Sketch Charcoaled in
Bennett, Adelaide George, Ideals ....
Bethune, Thomas C., Why Men. Do Not Go to Church
Brotherhood, George Bancroft Griffith
Brown, Frank E., New Hampshire
Brown, Herbert L., H. H. Metcalf .
Burns, Dora L., Their Patient Expectancies
By Artist's Fall, Gordon Hall Gerould
Prose
TAliK
26
289
34
284
165
79
3"
353
147
174
300
2 12
168
2!
198
63
103
167
11
259
163
42
219
104
229
260
332
IV
CONTENTS.
Cari'KNTER. Lucv J. W., H. H. Metcalf 32
Carr. Laura (iarland. In Having Time 3'
Caverly, L. A.. Achsah Wkav 26
Chandler, Ensign Lloyd H.. U. S. N., Thk United States Naval Academy . 125
Chapin, liela. At Home 3°°
Chcsley, Charles Henry, The Midnight of Years 293
The Tides , 32>
Clough, Lizzie M., Through New Hamtshire with Hammer and Pick . . 357
Conwell, Annie J., Polly Tucker 294,364
Dana, Francis, Ueus Ex Machina
The Benefaction on Melancthon Downs
Darrow, Persis E., As the Bud Must Bloom
Deus Ex Machina, Francis Dana
Dow, Mrs. Alice A., N J. Bachelder
Dublin, A Sketch of, H. H. Piper
Duncan, C. H., H. H. Metcalf . . . .
• 333
21, 74
147
333
103
79
291
56, 120, 183, 242, 30
Eddy, Rev. Mary Baker, Judge S. J. Hanna
Educational Department, Fred Gowing .
New Hampshire State Teachers' Association ....
One or Two Daily Sessions for High Schools ....
Physiology in Public Schools ........
Rural School Problem .........
The County Unit in Educational Organization, Lawton B. Evans .
The Present Status of New Hampshire Education, Elisabeth Averill
The Rural School Problem, Dr. C. C. Rounds
Far Away, Fred Lewis Pattee
Farr, John W., H. H. Metcalf .
Franconia, a Sketch of, H. C. Pearson .
Franconia's Profile, George Bancroft Griffitn
From Naples to Genoa, M. W. Babcock .
Gerould, Gordon Hall, By Artlst's Fall .
Good By and Welcome, Caroline M. Roberts
Gowing, Fred, Educational Department . . . 56, i
Griffith, George Bancroft, Brotherhood
Franconia's Profile ....
Halcyon Days .....
Two Lives ......
Grow, Eugene Julius, The Mary Hitchcock Memorial Hospital
Halcyon Days, George Bancroft Griffith
Hale — Pierce — Davis ....
Ha.mpton, Historic, L. K. H. Lane
Hanna, Judge S. J., Kev. Mary Baker Eddy
Hawes, Annie M. L., July ....
Hemlock, Fred Lewis Pattee
Hersey, Miss M. J., Andover
Historic Hampton, L. K. H. Lane
20, 183, 242. 30
199
I. 369
244
242
120
183
301
369
166
292
148
163
63
332
363
369
219
163
102
283
247
102
41
I
199
41
210
187
I
CONTENTS.
H. M., A New England Poet — James E. Nesmith .
Another New England Poet — Philip H. Savage
Hoyt, Samuel, A Warrior .....
The Sin(;er ......
Hutchinson. Mrs. Annie E., N. J. Bachelder .
Hutchinson, E. C, Christopher C. Shaw .
Ideals, Adelaide George Bennett
In Having Time, Laura Garland Carr .
Inspiration. Fletcher Harper Swift
July, Annie M. L. Hawes .....
Lane, L. K. H., Historic Hampton .
Lauder, George B., The Anti-Vivisection Movement
Lawrence, Ray, A Song of the Pine Forest
Little, George P., H. H. Metcalf
Love's Star, H. B. Metcalf ....
Lyford, James O., Misconceptions of Unitarianism by
selves and Others ....
Unitarians Them
Mason, Mrs. Ellen McRoberts, The Story of the Lady Blanche
McCoUester. Sullivan Holman. A Sketch of Marlborough
McDaniel, Hon. Charles, H. H. Metcalf .
Metcalf, H. B., Love's Star
Metcalf, H. H., A Pembroke Farmer
Carpenter, Lucy J. W.
Represent.\tive Agriculturists
The Cogswell Homestead, Gilmanton
Three Representative Farmers
VIidsum.mer, C. Jennie Swaine
.Misconceptions of Unitarianism by
James O. Lyford
Nesmith, James E., H. M.
New Hampshire, Frank E. Brown
New Hampshire Necroloc
Abbot, F. L.
Allbee, H. a.
Ball, Benjamin W
Batchelder, E. C.
Bean, N. S.
Beede, J. M.
Browne, Rev. Addison
Burleigh, E. T.
Burnham, Dr. A. C.
Carlisle, Jacob
Cheney, O. D.
Colby, F. A.
Corbin, Austin
Dame. Owen
29
Unitarians The.mselves anr Others
60, I
23, 185, 245, 31
34
284
21
230
167
29
•63
31
357
41
I
105
353
165
45
169
3'i
226
45
165
32
I. 354
99
226
7«
i6g
34
104
3T^
123
186
124
310
123
246
61
245
62
245
310
123
60
310
VI
C0NTEN7S.
Nkw IlAMrsiiiRK Necrolo(;y {Cotititiued):
UOK.MAN, Dk. NATHAM
Dow, Mrs. Alice A.
Eastman, D. B. .
Eaton. Rkv. W. H.
Emerson, Jamks .
Ei'i's, Charles L.
Fairhanks, a. G.
Frost, Dr. C. P.
Fuller, Le\ i K.
Georoe, Rev. N. D.
Gleason, L. W. .
Grenier, Abraham C.
CiRIFFITHS, J. 15. .
Hanscom, W. F. .
" HoiTGHTON, Horatio
Howe, M. G.
HovT, T. B.
J EFTS, L. T.
Johnson, Edward Y .
Jov, j.F. .
Klmhall, J. M. .
KiTTHEDGE, C. F.
Larabee, Dr. G. H.
Mardex, H. B. .
Milliken, C. E. .
Morrison, Capt. Tho.mas
Owen, A. J.
Parker, Prof. H. E.
P.\rrott, p. p.
Perkins, W. D. .
Plu.m.mer, Enoch W.
Quint, Rev. A. H.
Reed, A. G.
Robinson, Dr. J. L.
RowE, Alfred
Russ, Rev. Benjamin
Sawyer, A. J.
scruton, j. y.
Seavev, Manson,
SiSE. W. H.
Slade, Dr. D. D.
Slavton, H. K. .
True, N. L.
Underhill, a. B.
Wentworth, Jonathan
Winch, Thomas .
Night on Moosilauke. A Sketch Charcoaled in Prose. Milo Benedict
372
372
246
61
124
jio
61
60
310
245
124
61
62
60
62
186
123
124
310
246
186
186
373
373
62
374
186
373
186
310
62
373
124
62
61
373
124
372
245
185
6r
124
123
62
62
186
259
On Middle Ground, A. W. E.
198
CONTENTS.
VI 1
Page, Mary Jenks, Aunt Betsy's Thank-Offering ....
Pattee, F'red Lewis, Far Awav .......
Hemlock ...........
Pearson. H. C, The Warder of the Pass: A Sketch of Franconia
Perry, Frances H., A-Swing in the Old Ho.me Garden .
Pierce, George W., Winchester .......
Piper, H. H., A Sketch of Dublin .......
PoLLV Tucker, Annie J. Conwell
212
1 66
210
148
'74
268
79
294, 364
Representative Agriculturists, H. H. Metcalf
Roberts, Mrs. Caroline M., Good By and Welcome
The El.ms of Concord ....
Rollins, Frank West, The Dago
Ryder, William H.. H. H. Metcalf .
291, 354
. 363
1 10
. 136
• 355
Savage, Philip H., H. M.
Shaw, Christopher C, E. C. Hutchinson .
Shirley, Moses Gage, A Lover . . . .
Stuart, Helen Soule. Whittier and His Poetry
Swaine, C. Jennie, Midsummer
The Midnight Storm
Witch Hazel
Swift, F. H., Autumn
Inspiration
284
29
289
345
78
241
344
168
357
46, I
Tenney, E. P., The Legend of John Levin and Mary Glasse
The Anti-Vivisection Movement, George B. Lauder
The Benefaction of Melancthon Downs, Francis Dana
The Cogswell Homestead, Gilmanton, H. H. Metcalf
The Dago. Frank West Rollins ....
The Elms of Concord. Mrs. Caroline M. Roberts
The Harmony of Silence, John H. Bartlett
Their Patient Expectancies. Dora L. Burns .
The Legend of John Levin and Mary Glasse. E. P. Tenney
The Mary Hitchcock Memorial Hospital, Eugene Julius Grow
The Midnight of Years. Charles Henry Chesley
The Midnight Storm. C. Jennie Swaine
The Old Stage Coach. Mary H. Wheeler
The Return, W. M. R
The Royal Hunt, Lucy Mayo Warner
The Singer, Samuel Hoyt ....
The Story of the Lady Blanche, Mrs. Ellen McRoberts Mason
The Tides, Charles Henry Chesley ......
The United States Naval Academy, Ensign Lloyd H. Chandler, U. S. X
The Warder of the Pass: A Sketch of Franconia. H. C. Pearson
Three Representative Farmers, H. H. .Metcalf ....
Through New Hampshire with Hammer and Pick, Lizzie M. Clough
Tripp, Warren, H. H. Metcalf
Two Lives, George Bancroft Griffith .......
46, III, 176, 230
. 105
21, 74
99
136
1 10
72>
260
I, 176, 230
247
293
241
97
267
259
230
220
125
148
226
357
354
283
VI 11
CONTENTS.
Warner, Lucy Mayo. Thi- Royal Hunt
Wheeler, Mary H.. The Ox.u Sta(;e Coach
Whittiek anu His Poetry, Helen Soule Stuart .
Why Men Do Not Go to Church, Thomas C. Bethune
Winchester, George W. Pierce
Witch Hazel, C. Jennie Swaine . • • •
W. M. R.. TiiK Return
259
97
345
42
268
344
267
w
K
tr.
o
C
<
Pi
The Granite Month l\
7
Vol,. XXI.
JULY, 1S96.
No. I,
HISTORIC HAMPTON
r>y L. K. 11. Lane.
ARTICULAR interest at-
taches to the early Iii;;-
tor}- of the beautiful
town of Hampton, so
cliaruiins2:lv situated on
the Atlantic seaboard, it being one
of the four original town."; of the
province of New Hamjjshirc, settled
the same 3'ear \vilh Exeter, and fifteen
years after Dover and rortsiiiouth.
More than two hundred and fifty
years have been counted off by old
Father Time since the smoke from
the chimney of the first white settlers'
cabin, nestled among the towering
pines of Winnacunnet, went curling
'Whr.t heed I of the dusty land
And noisy town ?
I see the mighty deep expand
From its white line of glimmering sand
To where the blue of heaven on bluer
Waves shuts down!" — JT/ii flier.
skyward, telling as it i:)ursued its up-
ward flight, that a new i:)eople had
come to occupy this land of the red
man. Perhaps it also foretold how
unequal the contest for supremacy
between the vrhites and their dusky
brothers wotild thenceforth be, but
if so, its concealed prophes5'".was then
uninterpreted. Yet by the end of the
first centur)^ of its joint occupation
by the two races, the fate of one of
them had alread}^ been told. Its
numbers had decreased, slowly but
nevertheless surely ; the Indian had
abandoned the trail, his scalping-
knife no longer tortured its victim.
JUS UVUC HAMPTON
Old NudJ Place.
Ballard Place.
Norman Marston.
Charles Sargent.
Residence of Dr. Merr II
J. A. Lane.
and lii.s wigwam had gone to decay.
Only a fragmentary remnant of this
once large and powerful race re-
mained, and it offered no remon-
strance to the assumption of the
white man that
"T'm monarch of ;^I1 I survey,
^ly rights there are none to dispute."
"VVinnacunnet, said to mean " Pleas-
ant Place of Pines," was the original
Indian name of Hampton. It em-
braced at the time of its settlement
)>■ the
i t e s ,
larger
of the
territory ly-
ino^ between the Merri-
mack river on the south,
the Piscataqua on the north,
and extending from the Squam-
scott on the west to the ocean,
coverins: an area of more than
one hundred square miles, in-
cluding fully one half of New Plamp-
shire's seacoast. Since that time,
when Hampton formed one fourth of
the entire province, her territory has
been greatly reduced, six towns, viz.,
Kingston, Kast Kingston, Danville,
Hampton I'alls, Kensington, North
Hampton, and a part of three more,
vSandown, Seabrook, and Rye, hav-
ing been taken therefrom.
Wiiniacunnct was included in the
grant of New Hamp.shire in 1629,
from the Council of Plymouth to
Capt. John ]Mason. SeA'en 3'ears
later the hrst house was built there,
and was known as the "Bound
House," it standing on the boundarv
line of Massachusetts. In 1638,
Winnacunnet remaining yet unset-
tled, the general court granted to
HISTORIC HAMPTON.
Stephen Bachiler and others leave to
locate here, and at that time the
township can be said to have been
practically founded. Mr. Bachiler
and his associates, like the Pilgrims
Avho landed from the Mayjltnccr at
Plymouth, were people who had been
persecuted in England because of
their religious belief, and sought in
this new country, place and opportu-
nity to exercise, iintrammeled by ob-
noxious restriction and interference,
the rights which they believed were
iusth' theirs, to practise the religion
of God as they interpreted it. But
they were destined to experience a life
fraught with privation, danger, and
hardship, a recountal of which chills
the blood of those who, cen-
turies after, are enjoying the
benefits resultant from their
suffering.
The Ind-
ians were
of course
the chief
cause of
the set-
tlers' woe. In fact it may be said that
they exceeded the combined force of
all other adverse elements with which
they had to contend, although each of
itself was formidable enough, it would
seem, to dishearten any endowed
with le.ss than the almost super-
human power of endurance, and de-
termination, which was exhibited in
the lives of these early pioneers.
The Indians, naturally belligerent,
soon became envious of the whites
and a constant strife waged between
Residence cf Joseph Batchelder.
Dr. Smith.
Miss Isabelle Winthrop Stuart.
Residence of W. M. Pray.
Horace M. Lane.
' Cosey Corner," C. H. Turner.
Hampton Elm.
4
JUS Ti )RIL ' y/.l. MP'J\ )N.
Miss Lucy E. Dow,
them, and many a life was sacrificed
to appease the morbid frenzy of the
savages. From the very beginning
of the settlement the whites ■were in
constant peril. ,Vttacks and murders
were of frequer.t occurrence. The
settler who left his cabin to work in
the clearing, in doing so took his life
in his hands and often delivered it up
a victim to the cruel weapon of his
remorseless foe, or, spared such a fate,
returned to find his cabin laid in
ashes and the life of his wife and little
ones gone out, a sacrifice to savage
butchery. The founding of Hamp-
ton was prolific of such traged}'.
But the settlement grew in num-
bers rapidly, ami in the sj^ring of
1639 numbered some seventy-five j^er-
sons, and on June 7 of that ^-ear the
general court enacted as follows :
" Winnacunnet is allowed to bee a
towne & hath power to choose a con-
•stable & other ofiicers & make orders
for the well ordering of their towne
and to send a deputy to the Court."
The Exeter Road.
Joseph Dow.
During the next fall session of the
general court, the Indian name of
the place was changed, and the fact
recorded as follows: "Winnacunnet
shallbee called Hampton." The set-
tlers were not permitted, however, to
relax their vigilance, the attacks of
the Inclians continuing constant and
unremitting. The meeting-house
which the settlers ha.stened to build,
completed and in use early in 1639,
was enclosed Avithin a fortification,
and sentinels were stationed to give
an alarm sliould the enemy appear
while the people were engaged in wor-
ship. There were garrison hou.ses,
located in different parts of the town.
The old Toppan house, now stand-
ing, was at one time used as such,
HISTORIC HAMPTON.
and was enclosed by a stockade.
\"erily the church was the founda-
tion upon which the town of Hamp-
ton was reared. Of the fix'st trees
that were felled in the forest, a part
were used in the construction of a
meeting-house. The settlers were a
devout people, and as their numbers
increased, this meeting-house, with
others that followed it, became inad-
equate to their needs, when each in
turn was superseded b}' a larger and
more elaborate structure.
Of the first meeting-house, Init lit-
tle is recorded; it was built of logs,
aud was undoubtedl}' a ver}- rude
'^'■H.
Hon. Amoj Tuck.
affair, but ^et vServed its purpose,
and presumabh^ the devotion of the
worshippers within its walls was as
ardent and sincere as that witnessed
within the more pretentious sanctua-
ries of the present day, and 5'et it
appears that there was even then a
disturbing element, for in 1645 the
people of Hampton made a regula-
tion as follows: " Itt is ordered vt if
J-^
Joel Jenkins's Cottage, North Beach.
any p'son shall discharge a Gunn in
the Meeting House or any other
House, without the leave of the
owner or Householder, Hee or they
shall forfitt five shillings, unless the
p'son so offending doth peacably
make satisfaction, nor shall any p'"son
Ivide or lead a Hor.se into the meet-
ing House under the like penalty."
Another vote is thus engrossed on
the town record : ' ' To prevent dan-
ger l)y fire itt is ordered that if any
p'son shall take any tobaco, or Carrie
any fire or make use of any fire in
the new meeting House or the fortt
Judge Tnomas Leavitt.
niS TC ^RIC ^ I/.l. MP TON.
"i*.
t
*5-
"^^K
i
yard tlie^^
ten slullin2:,s for
Tne del General Moulton House.
shall forfitt
everv such
is between the two
windoes."
Tlie meeting-house
built in 1797, the fifth
in order, had "square
pews" and "singing
pews," also galleries.
The pulpit was a re-
markable specimen
-i; of the joiner's art, of
lofty height, reached
]jy winding stairs,
and surmovmted b}' a
great s o ii n d i n g -
board. In loii a
steeple was built at a cost of S900,
and a bell placed therein.
offence the one Halfe to the Inform- Rev. Stephen Bachiler, who came
er & the other Halfe to the Tov.-nc." from England, vras the first pastor
The second meeting-house, Avhich settled in Idampton, his pastorate ex-
was first occupied in 1650, was tending from 163O to 1641. He re-
without i^cws, having onl}^ narrow turned to England in 1655, and died
benches, and a committee allotted at Hackne}-, a village in Middlesex,
seats, observing the following rule: near Eondon, in 1660, in the one hun-
"All the men to sett at the west end dredth yenr of his aQ:e. He was the
and all tlie women sett at the east progenitor of the Catchelders, now
end of the meeting house and the quite numerous in Nev/ Hampshire,
devotion to be at the greet poest that Mr. Thomas I. Batchelder, of Xorth
3- -'-y
/
.^
Rev. W. A. Prc;::er.
Rev. D. H. Adams.
Rev. J. A. Toe
HISTORIC HAMPTON.
H amp ton,
li a vS i u li i s
possession
several arti-
cles that
have been handed down
from feneration to 2:en-
eration of Batchelders,
that formerlv belo:is:ed
to Rev. Stephen Bachiler. One cf ,
these articles is a contribution-box
that was used in Hampton's first
meetin!7-house. Still another is a
O
wooden chest that he brought from
England when he embarked for the
new world. The advance in the re-
ligious conditions of Hampton has
kept apace with the growth of the
town, and there are now four reli-
gious societies in flourishing order,
with attractive houses of worship,
viz. : The Congregational, the old-
est church i'.i New HamjDshire, hav-
ing maintained continuous existence
for more than two hundred years.
During that long period of time were
enrolled the names of man}^ eminent
divines installed over this church.
Rev. J. A. Ross is at present its hon-
ored and beloved pastor. The Free
Baptist, of which Rev. D. H. Adams,
is pastor. The Methodist Episcopal,
Rev. AV. A. Prosser, pastor, and tlie
Second Advent, which is without a
resident pastor.
The progress of civilization was
Xa
Methodict Church. Congregational Church.
Baptist Church and Parsonage. Gramrr.ar School.
Town Hall.
rapid, the people appreciated the
importance of education, and in less
than ten years after the settlement of
the town, a public school was estab-
lished. John L-egat was the first
teacher, and liis engagement is thus
recorded. "On the 2 of the 2 Mo;
1649 : The Selectmen of this Towne
Old Garrison House.
8
ins Tl VvYC HAMPTON.
of Hampton have agreed with John
L/Cgat for this present yeare cnsuc-
ing. To teach and instruct all the
children of or belonging to our
Towne, l)oth niayle and f^'uiailc
(well are capiable of learning) to
write and read and cast accountes,
(if it be desired), as diligentl}- and
as carefully as he i ; able to tcacli and
instruct them ; And so diligently to
follow the said implo^nnentt att all
such time and times this j'eare en-
sueing, as the wether shall be fitting
for the youth to corii to;2:ethcr to one
place to be instructed ; And allso to
teach and instruct them once in a
week, or more, in some Arthodox
chatechise provided for them l:iy their
parents or masters. And in consid-
eration hereof we have agreed to
pay, or cause to l^e pajxt unto the
said John Legat, the som of Twenty
pound;;, in corne and cattle and l^ut-
tcr att price currant, as payments are
riadc of such goods in this Towne,
and this t<; be payd b)- t:s cjuarterly,
paying /"5 every quarter of the yeare
after he has begun to keep school."
I'rom tliis beginning, interest in
educational matters continued, and
as the town increased i:i population
and wealth, new means and r.iethods
were adopted to improve the public
school sj-stem, and Hampton Ijccarae
famous for its fine schools. Nearly all
(^f its teacher.5 before the Revolution
were college graduates, and Latin
was taught here in 1714. In June,
1 8 10, Hampton academy was incor-
porated under the name of Hampton
Proprietor}^ school, which name was
never changed by act of legislature.
It soon took high rank among the
preparatory schools of Nev/ Kngland,
and although less fortunate in tlie
matter of endowment than man}- sim-
ilar institutions, notablv its neir^h-
bor, Phillips acadeni}' at Kxeter, it
continued to maintain a:i envialjle
record. On its list cf instructors
John H. Fogg.
Jacob T. Drown.
D. O. Leavi+t.
D. VV. T. M. Trill.
Ernest G. Colo.
0. H. Whitticr.
Abbolt Norris.
Dr. M. r. Smith.
ins 7V VUC HA MP TON.
/
^?;^,v\/^To^l /\^;>o^rAr
were the names of many able men,
including that of .Vndrew Mack, its
first preceptor, wliose term of ser-
vice was three j'ears, Roswell Harris,
A. INI., Amos Tuck, Timothy O.
Norris, A. IM., Avhose preceptorship
covered a jDcriod of twelve years,
Josepli Dow, and others.
Hampton academy has graduated
many young men who have won
distinction in public life; judges,
representatives, and senators in con-
gress, railroad magnates, and gov-
ernors of states are included in the
number. Rufus Choate, the eminent
jurist and statesman, completed his
preparatory course here, as did the
Hon. Amos Tuck, who afterwards
was preceptor of the academy, and
for man}' 3-ears ser\-ed on its board of
trustees. He was a man of recog-
nized ability, antl l)ecame prominent
as a lawyer and representative in
congress. He was also one of the
founders of the Republican j^arty.
His ancestors were among the early
settlers of Hamj^ton, and his great
and life-long interest in Hampton
academy, comljined with his man}'
fine personal qualities, greatly en-
deared him to the people of the tow!i.
On January 22, 1SS3, the academe-
building was moved from the site it
had so long occupied on ' ' Meeting-
house Green," to a lot donated b}'
Christopher G. Toppan, near the
town hall. A wide, public thorough-
fare was laid out, connecting the two
roads leading to the ocean, and
named Academy avenue, on which
the academ}' fronted. On September
14, 1S85, Hampton acadeni}- and
high school began its consolidated
career with Prof. Jack Sanborn as
principal, and he has since success-
fulh' conducted the school. The
people of Hampton feel a just pride
in this time-honored institution, and
its alumni, scattered over the globe,
cherish for it an endearing love and
veneration, and the hope is enter-
tained that the future has rich bles-
sings in store for it, and that it will
continue to occupy a prominent place
HISTORIC HAMPTON.
- - ^'-i^'.^^sfrW"
Odd Fellows' Building.
among the famed etlucational institu-
tions of the land.
This brief sketch of Hampton
academy would be to many readers
incomplete indeed, did it not contain
a reference to " Grandsir Harden,"
who might not inaptly be termed the
beloved mascot of the school, whose
humble abode, a little, one-storj^ vin-
painted house, stood for many years
within the shadow of the academy
building. Its latch-string was always
out to the pupils of the school, and
each of the great number that
came and went during many
years of its most prosperous
career, felt an interest, recip-
rocated by the venerable man,
that amounted almost to joint
ownership in the little home.
Samuel Harden was born in
1792, and died in 1S77. He
was a pensioner of the War
of 1 81 2, and for many j-ears
the faithful village sexton,
one of whose devolving duties
was the ringing of the curfew
bell.
Superstition was rife in colonial
days, and witchcraft was accorded
undue prominence in affairs, in
which Hampton shared to too great
an extent, thereby producing a blot on
her otherwise fair fame. There were
within the borders of the tow^n no
less than a dozen persons wdio were
Col. S. H. Dumas.
S. W. Dejrborn.
called witches, and regarded with
hatred and fear. Conspicuous among
them vv'as Good}^ Cole, whose name
has been made famous by the poet
Whittier, in "The Wreck of River-
mouth," and other poems. This
unfortunate person was publicly
whipped, and twice sentenced to
HISTORIC HAMPTON.
I r
Boston jail. After being indicted by
the grand jury for witchcraft the
second time, and spending several
months in jail, the court rendered
the following unique decision in her
case : "In y" case of Unis Cole, now
prisoner att }'" Bar not lyCgally guilty
acording to inditement butt just
ground of vehement suspissyon of
;-cr^ "^iT^j^^Cf ." CTT" ' ~- .. '~VMi^^z
J. Parker Blake.
her haveing had famillyarryty with
the devill.
Jonas Clarke
in the name of the rest."
Siie was thereupon liberated and
returned to Hampton, where the
remainder of her days were passed.
There are strange legends concern-
ing this eccentric character, and her
shadow}' life has been made the sub-
ject of many a story, interwoven with
fiction and embellished by fancy. To
this day, children sitting on their
mother's knee, listen to weird stories
of the mysterious power exerted by
this odd creature in Hampton, more
than two centuries ago.
In earlier years the people of
Hampton engaged in commercial as
well as agricultural pursuits, and the
privileges afforded Irr the waterway
of Hampton river were utilized for
the purpose of traffic with other sea-
ports, and by means of the shallop at
x
^
J. A. Lane.
first, and later by larger ana more
pretentious vessels, trade was carried
on with Boston, the West Indies, and
other foreign ports. A'essels were
built in Hampton and sailed thence
commanded b}' Hampton men, and
manned by sailors of the town.
Hampton was at one time dignified
as a port of entry, and in April, 1696,
Xathaniel Weare, Esq., was ap-
pointed naval officer there, " to enter
and clear all vessels for what goods
imported or exported and to receive
all duties & imports, as h\ I,aw."
Of the more prominent ship build-
ers of Hampton, those who acquired
a large competency from \-essel traffic
A Wreck.
12
HISTORIC HAMPTON.
J. A. Lane & Co.'s Store.
J. W. Masons Store and St. John's Hall.
D. 0. Leavitt's Store.
and fishery, were Col. Christopher
Toppan, David Nudd, and John
Johnson.
The schooner, Willi am TcII , be-
longinsr to the last named, made
fifty-two trips in one 3-ear from
Hampton to Boston and return, one
each week. The schooner, Harriet
Neal, owned and commanded l)y the
same party, made two voj-ages to the
West Indies. In 1S49 she took a
hundred passengers to Chagres on
the Isthmus of Panama cu route to
the o-old mines of California.
The rocky formation of portions
of Hampton's sea-coast make it a
dansrerous shore that is much dreaded
by mariners, and upon which many
an unfortunate craft has been driven
to destruction. On vSunday, Febru-
ary 9, of the present year, the three-
masted schooner, Cteiidoii, coa\ laden,
from Port Johnson, N. Y., to St.
John, N. B., during a terrible snow
storm was wrecked near Boar's
Head. The crews of the Rye Beach
and Wallis Sands life-saving stations
were summoned by telephone, and
brought their life-boat and other ap-
paratus a distance of six miles, over
hard and badly-drifted roads. After
a long and very nearly fatal delay, a
line was fired across the doomed
craft and 1;)eing secured l:>y the almost
exhausted sailors, their entire num-
ber of seven men were taken off by
means of the breeches buoy. One of
the most notal)le wrecks here was
that of the British steamship, Sir
Francis, in February, 1873. The
frequency with which wrecks have
occurred here has demonstrated the
importance of having a life-saving
station on Hampton beach, a matter
HISTORIC HAMPTON.
13
that has been too long deferred.
Senator GalHnger has recently intro-
duced a bill in congress favorable
to that end, and alread}' the estab-
lishment of such a station is an as-
sured fact.
During the perilous times of Indian
wars, when the fate of the colonies
was problematical ; in. Revolutionary
days, while struggling for independ-
ence and the casting off of the joke
of British oppression ; and through
the dark j-earsof the Civil War; — the
brave men of Hampton were foremost
in volunteering their ser\-ices in de-
fence of their country and the blessed
cause of freedom, and their heroic
actions and deeds of valor are ac-
corded the highest honor within the
power of the people to give, and are
worthy of emulation by all coming
generations.
Space will j^ermit of only a hv\^i
allusion in this article to a few j^er-
sons whose names have been promi-
nently connected with the history of
Hampton. General Jonathan Moul-
ton was born July 21, 1726, and died
September iS, 17S7. He took an
active part in the Indian wars, and
also in the Revolution ; was rich in
lands and cattle, and transacted a
large commercial business. His
house is yet standing, a conspicuous
object of interest to tourists and to
students of the history of '' the times
that tried men's souls."
Col. Christopher TopjDan, who was
born Januar}^ 18, 1735, and died Feb-
ruary 2.S, 1818, was a man of great
intellect and fine educational attain-
ments ; was engaged in shipping and
mercantile pursuits, served as a rep-
resentative, senator, councillor, and
two years as one of the justices of the
court of common pleas.
The name of Joseph Dow will long
claim honorable remembrance. He
was born April 12, 1807, and died in
i88(.j; a learned man who graduated
at Dartmouth College in 1833. He
wrote the history of Hampton, a most
valuable and comprehensive work,
published in 1S93. In this labor he
was ably assisted by his daughter,
lyucy E. Dow, whose death occurred
since the advent of the present j-ear.
Uri Lamprc}-, who died in 1881,
aged 72 years, was during his life a
prominent man in public affairs of
x«iga*t^Eiiti N ^
|]]!5P^
laajjiSliiil
^ _» n CB ar a *J' m ai « « » t n
Tne brce Factory.
14
HIS TORIC HAMPTON.
town, county, atid state, and a i)oli-
tician whose influence was recognized
far and near, and although a member
of the Democratic part}', the minority
party in Hampton, lie held many town
oflfices. He was a dele-
gate to the constitution-
al convention in 1S50,
represented the town in
the legislature, and was
a member of the execu-
tive council. He was a man of great
natural ability, and possessed the
qualities that made him a leader
among his fellow men. By some he
was termed a dictator, .so great was
the influence he exerted over certain
numbers of the inhabitants, who, as
one party put it, "thought him a
bigger man than old Jackson," and
associated him in their minds as con-
nected with all passing events, illus-
trative of which we will relate the
following anecdote :
One day in the autumn of a cer-
tain year, an advertising team drove
through some of Hampton's prin-
cipal streets, including the one to
IJoar's Head, and painted on fences
and rocks the letters "T L," for the
purpo.se of exciting curiosit}', and to
cau.se people to inquire as to their
meaning, while another team was to
follow some days later, and supply
the missing letters of the two words,
which when completed was the name
of a patent medicine. Two gunners
who had during the night gone down
to the shore and out on a gunning
trip off Boar's Head, when they came
in in the morning and started for their
homes up towm, loaded with ozone
which was blown over from the clas-
sic shades of Newburyport, first saw
the mysterious letters referred to and
wondered what they meant ; and as
each pair of bars on the
way up was reached, on
every one were the
m^'stic symbols, before
w h i c li thej^ stopped ,
queried and comment-
ed at such length that
Jacob I . Brown and Frank B. Brown.
S. W. Dearborn.
Clarence T. Brown.
John H. Fogg.
Moses W. Brown.
their journey home threatened to con-
sume the greater part of the day.
HIS TORIC HA MP TON.
T5
But the mystery only deepened.
" What can the letters mean?" At
last one of them threw up his hands
and shouted, "Hurrah! I have it:
T for Uri, and L for Lamper. Oh!
holy, how plain I see it.'' The days
of Uri Lampre3'are now no more, but
the quaint saying, "T for Uri, and
ly for Lamper," is a common proverb
in Hampton to-da}-.
here from 1797 to 1807, and who later
was president of Bowdoin College, a
daughter was born in Hampton, Jane
Means, who became the accomplished
wife of President Franklin Pierce,
and as the first lady of the land pre-
sided over the White House with a
dignity and charming grace that re-
flected honor upon herself and the
town of her nativitv.
Cottages at Hampton Beach.
Cottages cf A. L. Japlin, W. H. Carter, C. R.
Dr. Mitchell's Lodge.
Mason.
Beach's Cottage.
Manchester Cottages at Hampton.
Hon. Thomas Ueavitt, judge of
probate for Rockingham county, is a
Hampton man by birth and educa-
tion, and is devotedly attached to the
old town. The Toppans, the Shaws,
the Mars tons, and the Towles, have
all been prominent families in Hamp-
ton for generations past.
To Rev. Jesse Appleton, D. D., set-
tled over the Congregational church
Of secret and fraternal societies in
town, that of Odd Fellowship occu-
pies the more prominent place. Rock-
ingham Lodge Number 22, 1. O. O. F.,
was instituted at Hampton Falls in
1848, and removed to Hampton in
1883. This lodge now numbers 170
members, and is one of the most pros-
perous in the state. It has recently'
erected and completed a large and
i6
HISTORIC HAMPTON.
■"' ' ' I 1 1 kl U U I I
I I II I I I I I Nil t
Ocean House.
'lyisha," as he was familiarl}- called,
was proverbialh' honest and gener-
ous, and treated others as being the
same. He never had locks on liis
store dcjors. I le transported his goods
from Boston, first in whaleboat's, and
afterwards in larger vessels which he
owned.
It is related that on one occasion
the captain of one of his schooners pur-
chased a cargo of goods of a firm in
elesfant buildini'- of colonial style ci
architecture, to be dedicated to tlic
use of the fraternitx'. AVinnacunnct
Rebekah lodge and Ilvmto Encamp-
ment, are both prosperous branches
of the order. Winnacunnet Council,
Junior Order United American ]\Ie-
chanics, another fraternal organiza-
tion, has a membership of loo.
Hampton has a public library in a
flourishing condition, established in
1 88 1, and now numbering more than
two thousand volumes.
A general store was opened in
Hampton in 1786, l)y Elisha John-
.son. Two rooms in his dwelling-
house were used for store j^urposes —
one for groceries, the other for dry
croods. In the latter a bed was util-
ized for a counter.
rw
" Uncle
'I
Cutler's Sea Vi;w House.
Boar s Head Hotel — East side.
ISoston, with which he had not pre-
viously traded. It being in the days
before mercantile agencies were es-
tablished, the firm became uneasy
about their new customer in Xew
Hampshire, and sent one of their
number by .stage to Hampton, to look
after what they feared was a bad sale.
The time that had elapsed was but
three weeks, and goods in those days
were sold on six months' time, hence
r.Ir. Johnson was not a little surprised
when waited upon by the representa-
tive of the Boston firm, but he quickly
sized up the situation, and asking his
caller into the other room, 2:)ulled from
under the bed a china receptacle filled
with golden eagles, and counting out
tlie amount of the bill handed it to
ihe astonished merchant, who was
profuse in his apologies and solicited
another order, but " I'ncle 'Lisha"
good-naturedly told him he would
not cause him further anxiety, and
he never afterwards patronized that
HISTORIC HAMPTON.
17
'#1-
firm. He amassed a large com-
petency, and ])usiness was con-
tinued at that stand by him and
his successors for more than one
hundred )-ears.
Of the merchants now in 1)us-
iness in Hampton, the firm of
J. A. Lane & Co., established
in 1848, is the oldest and, as
general traders, the}' do an ex-
tensive business. There are ,
other well-kept grocer}-, hard-
ware, drug, dry goods, milli-
ner}^ stores, etc., all conducted by
enterprising and prosperous firms.
Although Hampton has superior
railroad facilities, it has developed
no particular manufacturing enter-
prise. The shoe business flourished
for a time, and .some three hundred
hands found employment in the large
factory on the "new road," which
was built with local capital, and the
>l
»«8JI»\
«-i nil
!l'
->^^gSSa:r
^
.»■ .
^ ..,->.--^...
«>
"^
Jk
ip?«**- .
wKmX
L
I^S-
Hampton Beach H
quiet old village took on an air of
surprising activit}-. The building
boom was .something before un-
known, and owners of corner lots
wore complacent smiles, and en-
tertained exalted ideas of the
value of their posses.sions, but all
at once the shoe business here
.stopped, like "Grandfather's
Clock," never to go again, and
the big factory has for years re-
mained in a state of innocuous
desuetude.
New Boar's Head.
Mar.ston & True manufacture, by
.steam, specialties for the irse of car-
riage manufacturers.
A new industry here is that of
piano-making, established the present
year b}' Closes AV. Brown, an artisan
skilled in the business, having been
engaged for years with one of the
leading piano manufacturers of Bos-
ton. Mr. Brown manufactures high-
grade pianos in all styles of finish.
To the sunnner l)oarding business,
however, must be awarded the palm as
the leading industry of Hampton, as it
is elsewhere throughout the Granite
state.
In 1654 the first public house, or
ordinary as it was then called, was
opened in Hampton b}' Robert Tuck,
Avho was allowed by the county court
"to sell wine and .strong water."
Hotel Whittier.
r8
inSTORfC HAMPTON.
Other pul)lic houses, from time to
time, succeeded this one, and about
1735 I.iei:t. Jonathan Leavitt opened
a tavern in the village, on the site of
the present Hotel Whittier, which
latter structure was erected in 18 16.
Thus it will be seen that for a period
covering' more than one hundred and
fifty years, this famous corner has
been a place of entertainment for the
traveller on business or pleasure bent,
and there is no more popular house
to be found to-da}' than Hotel Whit-
ccrnnient revealed the fact that Nat-
ure had not been cliar\- in bestowintr
her beauteous charms upon this sec-
tion of the universe, termed by one
enraptured visitor, " The garden-spot
of New Ivngland." Ham2)ton North
Beach with its wild surroundinp-s is
a most captivating retreat, where the
balsamic pine and fir grow luxuri-
antly close down 1)}' the shore, and
their fragrance mingling with the
ozone wafted in from over old ocean
make it an ideal resort for the seeker
The Leonia.
tier, or a more genial host than its
landlord, Otis H. Whittier. This
house is largely patronized by sum-
mer guests, and in winter by sleigh-
ing parties as well ; its favorable
location, being situate about equal
distance from Portsmouth, Kxeter,
Amesbitr}^ and Newburyport, makes
it a most attractive Mecca to which
the youthful pilgrims journey by cut-
ter and barge, during the cold and
biting days and nights of winter, in
search of the pleasure that can always
be found in the music halls, and at
the festive board of the Whittier.
The attention of tourists was early
attracted to Hampton,, and quick dis-
for health and recuperation. This
localit}- bids fair to become most pop-
ular, and real estate here is fast in-
creasing in value. The large sum-
mer boarding-house of Jacob B. Leav-
itt is located on the spot where the
first beach house was built in 1800.
There arc other private boarding-
houses, and the new and commodious
hotel, "The lyconia," was opened
the present season l)y V . M. Crosby,
who is the proprietor and manager.
This house is delightfull_v situated
amid romantic scenery, and is thor-
oughly equipped with all conven-
iences and appliances known to mod-
ern hotel art, and no effort is spared
HISTORIC HAMPTON.
19
Leavitt's, North Beach.
to make the entertainment of its
guests complete. Here are to be
found some very pretty and attractive
cottages, including that of Joel Jen-
kins of Montclair, New Jersey, the
wealthy inventor of the safety pin.
picturesquely situated near the old
mill on "Nook Lane." Also the
"Red house," the summer home of
Mrs. Susan B. Hill, a cultured lady
of recognized literary ability, among
whose published works is a history of
Danbury, Connecticut, just issued.
Mrs. Hill is enthusiastic in her ad-
oration of Hampton north side.
From Hampton shore, reaching its
nose far out into the ocean, as in a
vain endeavor to connect with the
Isles of vShoals, is the promontory
known as Boar's Head, which has a
reputation as a seashore resort that is
of more than local extent. It is a
strikingl}' odd formation of earth,
thrown up by nature, with a gradual
rise from the westward, to a height
of sixty feet above the level of the
ocean. Its surface of twenty acres is
covered with velvety green grass,
while its base is bathed and buffeted
b}^ the waves of the Atlantic. It is
an ideal spot, with which no other on
the New England coast can compare
for a summer hotel. This fact was
long since establi.shed, for Boar's
Head was one of the first waterino-
places to be opened up in New Eng-
land, its history as such antedating
by more than fifty years that of Bar
Harbor and other of the popular sum-
mer resorts of the present day.
The first hotel was bviilt on Boar's
Head in iSig and opened to the pub-
lic one 3'ear later. It stood very near
the site of the present Hampton
Beach hotel, and was conducted finst,
by Richard Greenleaf, and later by
Uri Eamprey. In 1S27 the property
was purchased by Thomas Leavitt,
who enlarged and otherwise improved
the house, and became a very pop-
ular and successful landlord. The
house was burned in 1S54 and was
not rebuilt until 1S72, when two of
^Ir. Eeavitt's sons, T. and J. L.
Leavitt, opened the present commo-
dious and well appointed Hampton
Beach hotel, which has enjo3'ed a lib-
eral patronage. Its location is ex-
ceptionalh' fine, from its broad piazzas
a sea breeze is always to be obtained,
no matter from v.diat point of the com-
W^'
h^"M
EiiJ ut Buar s Head.
20
HISTORIC HAM /'TON.
pass the wind may blow, while every
window in the house commands- a
view of the ocean.
In 1S26 a large hotel was built on
the sunnnit of the promontory and
named the Boar's Head Hotel. It
was owned by a company, and man-
aged by different parties until finally
sold, together with the Granite
House, situated at the base of the
Head, to Col. S. H. Dumas, who had
previoush' conducted the Phenix,
at Concord, and other well known
hotels. He immediately introduced
many improvements, and made ex-
tensive additions to the Boar's Head,
and under his management it had a
most prosperous career, until in 1H94
it fell a victim to the devouring ele-
ment, fire. Its loss was a staggering
blow to Hampton Beach, but Colonel
Dumas transferred his attention to
the Granite House, and with com-
mendable enterprise, remodelled and
enlarged the same, fitting it with
modern improvements, and had it in
readiness for the next season's travel.
This house which has been renamed
the New Boar's Head, is a cosy, as
well as roomy, house, situated clo.se
l)y the water, and here Colonel Du-
mas receives his guests with that
heart}' welcome and hospitality that
has made him famouL; as " an ideal
Vjoniface." Fire has more than once
vLsited Hampton Beach with disas-
trous result, and its effect is still pain-
full}' noticeable. In 1SS5, the Ocean
House, the largest hotel there, was
burned, and has never been rebuilt.
South of Boar's Head, about midwa}-
of the long stretch of the prett}' cot-
tages that skirt the roadway as it
follows the circuitous shore of the
baj', is Cutler's Sea A'iew House,
and who has not heard of this famous
resort, of its lish dinners, and bird
suppers, that are the delight of the
epicurean ? Cutler's is to Hampton
Beach, what Taft's was to Point
vShirley, and any one to be familiar
with the highest degree of excellence
in the ga.stronomic art, must have
sampled the larder at Cutler's.
The visitor to Hampton who in-
clines to sport with gun and rod will
find ample opportunity to exercise
his skill. The salt meadows afford
good feeding ground for small birds,
while during the late summer and
early autumn the off-shore gunning
is excellent, as is both fresh and salt
water fi.shing. Then there are the
Hampton clams, famed for their
superior quality. One can at will go
down and dig these succulent bi-
valves, and amid the rocks and sea-
weed on the shore, prepare a bake
that will outrival any that Del-
monico's chef can produce.
Another and not the least attractive
or important feature that Hampton
possesses, is its hard, smooth roads
with their shade of evergreen foliage.
They are unsurpassed in the way of
country roads, and in these daj's of
pneumatic tires hold out inducements
found b}' many to be .simply irresisti-
ble. As a seaside resort, the place
lays no claim to the excitement and
glitter incident to summer life at
Newport, Sorrento, and Bar Harbor,
but one can journey far, and not find
a more pleasing combination of scen-
er\- than that with which Hampton is
adorned. Highlands upon which are
finely cultivated fields, contrasting in
pleasing effect, with meadows green,
tlirough which flow shaded brooks of
clearest water, and broad acres of
salt meadows, coursed with number-
less .streams, supplied by Atlantic's
THE BENEFACTIOX OF MELANCTHON DOWNS.
21
ceaseless tide. A shore diversified
enough to charm a disciple of Ar-
cadia. Miles of hard, white, gflitter-
ing sand, stretches of pebbly waste,
over which the wa\'es ripple with con-
stant motion, and headlands bold and
picturesque. Coupled with these
attractions, is the fact that the famous
White Mountain range, with its in-
comparable scener}', the state of
Maine, with its wonderful coast,
Casco and Penobscot bays. Mount
Desert and numberless summer-
haunted Ijeaches, coves, and islands,
and the great business centres of
Bo.ston, and New York cit}', are all
within a few hours' ride of Hampton
in New Hampshire.
A WARRIOE.
By Saiiniel Hovl .
I see the cliff the storm defy,
Though all the winds and waves assail ;
It lifts its knightly crest on high
And mocks the fur}- of the gale.
It spurns the breakers at its feet.
Breasts the fell blasts' impetuous shock.
And sets 'gainst javelins of sleet
Its adamantine shield of rock.
Here at the harbor breach it fends
The inland hamlet from the wrack.
And to the tempest's teeth it sends
Its wrathful challenge headlong back.
And when, with broken ranks, the storm
Beats quick retreat beneath the stars,
vStill towers erect its dauntless form.
All covered with its battle-scars.
THE BENEFACTION OF MELANCTHON DOWNvS.
By Francis Dana.
I.
THE vSOWINCx.
ND now," said Miss Eg- One might think the
gles worth at the end of
a long discourse in
which she had tried to
set Melancthon's faults
plainl}- before him, "you git along
spry and go to sweetenin' them gar-
din' beds !
light.
sweetening
fairv-like
of garden-beds" a
employment to be plied amid the
charming influences of dew-moon-
light and the music of the nighting-
gale, and by no means unenjoyable.
But the proposed sweetener w-as
aware of the euphemism, and frowned,
THE BENEFACTION OF MELANCTHON DOWNS.
well knowing that sweetenin' as ap-
plied to gardens is mineral phosphate
— a homely substance beloved of none
of the senses (except the common
which esteems it for usefulness) and
to be imparted to the soil V:)y active
labor with hoe and rake.
Usefulness was no recommendation
to Melancthon, who hated the quality
in theor}' and was consistent in prac-
tice.
He had been taken by Miss Eg-
glesworth into her home in his help-
less, unattractive childhood, and she
had done her best to bring him up
icindly and well, and fit him for life.
She had been well off for an inhab-
itant of Caraway village, and he had
shared all her comforts and small
luxuries.
But recently Miss Egglesworth had
lost much of her property, if one can
lose much of little. With hardly
enough left for her own support she
had still kept the bo3% for she knew
that '' Lanky " Downs, as he was gen'-'
erally called, had succeeded in mak-
ing himself disliked by all the village
and that no other home would be
open to him if he left hers.
Melancthon, however, did not feel
the obligation. On the contrary he
held himself aggrieved that her losses
should have obliged Iiiiii to bear pri-
vations and do work to which he was
not accustomed, and grew sulky, ob-
stinate, and impertinent.
He had a great opinion of himself
and felt that his abilities would make
their mark in a wider sphere than
Caraway.
He despised the Carawayans.
In a state of mind to which all
these thoughts and feelings contrib-
uted, he went to the garden.
" I ain't a-goin' ter break my back
a-workin' to keep Elviry off'n th'
County Farm," he said to himself.
' ' Not me ! "
And having crept unobserved into
the house, he put on his best clothes,
and wishing the worst of luck to Miss
Egglesworth, her neighbors, and Car-
away at large, went out over the hills.
But first he said, " P 11 put that bag
o' sji'ectcnin' ivhcre itH do sonic oood.'"
If he had known how truh' he
spoke when he said that he never
would have said the words nor have
done the act to which they had refer-
ence.
II.
THE SUMMER.
There are times when the people of
this world ma}' be seen to congregate
in open places and stare blankly, but
earnestly, skyward at some other,
whose actions are not at all likely to
affect their interests at all and with
which the}' have no business what-
ever.
Sometimes, indeed, it leaves a mes-
sage for one or two, but the many are
vaguely pleased, remark " Oh ! won-
derful " and go home none the wiser.
Moved by a like impulse the inhab-
itants of Carawav were wont to slather
at evening on the platform of what
was known to them as ' ' the Deep-
Oh ' ' to behold the transit of the
north-bound train.
In the summer that followed the
departure of Melancthon, one warm
evening in July, their punctuality
met with an unexpected reward.
The train in defiance of precedent
and custom, stopped. "" Caaaara-
iL'aayf'' the brakeman shouted, with
that happy blending of the stentorian
and the nasal which none but railroad
officials can achieve.
THE BENEFACTION OF MELANCTHON DOWNS.
23
A large trunk was hurled upon the
platform and the people clustered
about the car steps to look at the new
arrival. Now the " cit5'-boarder " with
his puzzling eccentricities, strange
paraphernalia, and shocking disre-
gard of the rural proprieties was as
5-et unknown to the region.
It was, therefore, with no little
amazement that the Carawayans saw
emerge from the smoking-car a stout
man of middle age, clad in such
apparel and so mannered as their
ej-es had never beheld nor their fan-
cies even dimly shadowed forth.
On the back of his head, framing
his ruddy countenance, like a golden
halo round the harvest-moon, hung a
straw hat, broad of brim as any hay-
maker's but stiff, neat, and shiny, as
an elder's Sunday best.
His ample shoulders and hippopot-
amic back and sides, displayed a gay
flannel jacket ("striped fer all th'
world like a tater-bug," said one)
and its open front left bare a wide ex-
panse of checked shirt, adorned with
a scarf of like ornamental pattern,
tied in a jaunty knot.
The upper and the nether man
were divided by a crimson sash some
six or eight inches wide, below which
bulky white flannel trousers extended
to a pair of shoes of russet leather,
each sharpened to a fine point.
This apparition bounced off the
train, closely followed by another
whose apparel was even more start-
ling, for it was evidently a series of
selections from the last year's ward-
robe of the stout person himself and
flapped (as good Queen Bess is said
to have danced, "high and dis-
posedly") about the long, lank per-
son of its second tenant.
He, laden with many burdens, in-
cluding a valise, a basket, a cofhn-
like leathern case, and a bundle of
shawls, walking-sticks, umbrellas,
and fishing-rods in a strap, stumbled
awkwardly after his employer who
called out to him with an impatient
voice, " Come-come-come ! Don't
stand idling about there — can't \'OU
see the train wants to start ? Go get
me a carriage and mind 5'OU don't
drop any of those things I Get a
move on ! "
The man thus adjured, grinned,
touched his hat (ducking his head to
meet his heavy-laden hand ) , and dis-
appeared round the corner of the sta- ^
tion in search of a vehicle.
The throng was divided. The
more active followed the man of bur-
den, others gathered close about the
o-entleman in the blazer, and two
small boys set off at full speed to
spread the news in the village.
The new-comer bore the thrusting
of eyes a moment, and then burst out
in wrath: "Well, well, well, my
ofood friends I What in the name of
all that 's new and strange and beau-
tiful is the matter?
They backed away a little, but
stared, if possible, harder than before.
" What is it, \\\\ dear people? Has
there been a smash-up ? Am I the
corpse, and are you the coroner's
jury? If so will you kindly reach a
verdict and leave off sitting as soon
as you can ?
"Can't an ordinar\-, commonplace
specimen of humanity in a humble
walk of life stand on 3-our blessed
platform without being gawped at
like a wild Abyssinian m3-ster\' in a
dime show ? Can't an Invalid — hullo,
you lazy reprobate," he shouted, as
his man came back with an increa.sed
following, "how long does it take
24
77//; nENEFACriON OF MELANCTHON DOWNS.
you to call a carriage? Why don't
you j)Ut those things in the hack ?
Where is the hack? "
" Plaze, sorr," said the man stoop-
ing again to touch his hat, " t\iere do
be no hack at arl in this place."
" Well, then where 's the omnibus,
the hearse, the hotel conveyance,
whatever it is? "
"Sure, sorr, there do be no hotel
conveyance at arl fur lack av a hotel,
an' as fur Ih' hearse, plaze sorr it — "
"No hotel? Where are we, any-
way? Look here, my friend" — and
he turned sharpl}" to a bystander —
" am I at Caraway, or am I not? "
"You be," said the person ad-
dressed. "This is Caraway — this
here village."
"Then where 's the Riverside
House?"
" Aint no sech place — not's I ever
heerd tell on."
" What "s this ? " The traveller felt
in all his pockets and from the last
and most remote drew the prospectus
of a summer hotel and handed it to
the Carawaj'an, who pored over it
industriously, while his neighbors
craned their necks acro.ss his shoul-
ders.
"Come now! Do 3^ou say there's
no such house ? ' '
"N-no," said the native geogra-
pher with great deliberation, return-
ing the document. "No. I aint
sayin' they aint no sech house. The}'
maj' be a dozen, or they may be two
dozen jest such houses f'r all I know
— ])Ut " (lowering his tone to the
whisper of one who imparts impor-
tant and exclusive information of
great price) " but, they aint none on
'em here! This house, as you 're a-
.seeking after, is in Caraway, Var-
mount."
"W^hy!— isn't this?—"
" This — here — is Caraway, New
Hampshire. Where be 3'ou from ? "
The traveller was speechless for the
moment, and seemed about to burst
with his emotions so his man ans-
w^ered :
" From Yorrk city, we be."
"You don't say! Wal — I pre-
sumed likely. You 'd orter got off'n
til' cars 'bout seventy mile back,
down road to th' junction, an' took
the other line. An' then, ef nothin'
hadn't a happened to ye you 'd a'
be'n there now — both on ye."
The traveller turned an angrj- face
upon his .servitor, who was grinning
widely at their mistake.
" You unmitigated numbskull 1 This
is what I get by trusting you with a
simple errand! Didn't I tell you to
get tickets for Caraway, Vermont?"
" Ye did not sorr. No sorr. Niver
a wurrd av \"arrmunt was iver
spake betwane ayther av us. Av
ye'd be plazed to hov me recarl th'
convarsashin .sorr," he continued, in
spite of explosive interruptions and
commands to hold his peace, " j-e
carried me to yer room in th' early
mornin' an' says you, ' Go to the sta-
shin' (sure I disremimber now phawt
stashin ye said) but ' Go to that sta-
shin ye carritt-hidded ruffi'n,' says
you .sorr, spakin' vir}- plisint, 'an' git
two tickets for Corraway.' I wint
th' place ye towld me an' says I to
th' man, 'Two tickets fer Corraway,'
says I. ' Do ye be anny chance
mane Corraway, New Hampshy?'
saj's the man. ' Roight ye are,' says
I (thinkin' he knew his business) an'
wid that he ban's out two tickets an'
change. An' when I give 'em to ye
sorr an" saj's I ' Do that be roighf ? '
then says you, ' kape th' change ye
THR BENEFACTION OF MELANCTHON DOWNS.
avaraycious scoundrel,' says you sorr,
'an' be off about packin' up me
things." An' now \ ax }-e sorr, 3'er-
self — was iver a wurrtl annyways re-
latin' to Varrniunt iver niintioned in
til' convarsasliin av us at arrl ? "
During this oration, delivered in
the impassioned manner of one who
pleads a just cause and whose heart
is in his plea, and with such gestures
as the weight of luggage on the
speaker's hands would permit, the
traveller had gradually regained his
temper.
"Now, Phelim," said he, "as
you 've brought me into this City of
Perpetual Inspection," (waving his
hand at the interested Carawayans)
"3'ou'd better find me a lodging.
No Sunda}' trains, of course — so
we 're stuck here till Monday."
"Arr anny av yez aware av a
noight's lodgin' fur a invalid an' his
man ? "' Phelim inquired of the public.
The}' took counsel with each other
and held aloof. Was it safe to enter-
tain an invalid of such unusual and
violent demeanor ? Would it look
well in the eyes of the commvtnity to
be associated with such people, on
the Sabbath of all days ?
"Sure th' ixposure will be afther
killin' me employer av ye lave him
stay out arl noight," said Phelim.
"And if this ruffian in silk attire —
this sanguinary hireling of mine — is
compelled to run at large in the dark-
ness I wont be responsible for any
damage he may do I " said the inva-
lid. " Come — the hospitality of New
Hampshire is proverbial — people have
written books on the subject. My
dear sirs I Can't you put us up some-
how ? " '
" Wal " — said one "we haint got
no great 'commodations fer strange
folks an' thet 's a fact. But I{lviry
Egglesworth she lives jest down th'
road a-piece. vShe's a lone woman
in a big house an' like enough hez
room fer comp'u}-."
So, on the principle that advocates
the greatest good to the greatest
number, the village was saved at the
expense of the " lone woman."
Miss Egglesworth, poor soul, mar-
velled greatly when two such unpre-
cedented strangers arrived at her
door, and was frightened, in spite of
the explanation of the man who
brought the trunk in his ox-cart that
"they aint nothin' only some city
folks," but the manner of the invalid,
softened in her presence to a jovial
kind of deference, reassured her.
vShe was glad as she acknowledged
to herself, to " hev somethin' 'live
'bout th' house once more."
"1 'm 'fraid they aint nothin' much
here to feed to two sech hearty folks
as you be," said she, thinking of her
scanty larder.
" Madam," said the invalid, " make
yourself quite at ea.se on that point.
I defy any one to starve me ! Phelim,
you cormorant ! Where is my lunch-
eon ? Bring it here ! — The fact is.
Madam," he continued in a tone .so
pleasant and gentle that she quite re-
covered from the tremor occasioned
by his roar at Phelim, "the human
organization is far too delicate a
thing, in my case e.specialh" — for I
am a sad sufferer. Madam — to be sub-
jected to risks of any kind. I never
allow myself to travel in unknown
places without a certain quantity of
proper food. Phelim, you utter igno-
ramus ! don't bring that in here I
take it to the kitchen ! "
"An' how l)e I, plaze .sorr, t' know
phweer th' kitchen is — seein' — "
26
A CHS AH \rk\l)'.
" Madam, how is he to know where
the kitchen is ? "
"I'll show him out there," said
Miss Egglesworth.
" There will be enough for supper,"
said the invalid, laying out upon the
deal table what seemed to the hostess
a week's supplies. " Yes, there will
be enough for supper, for to-morrow
we will endeavor somehow to pro-
vide, Monday morning and w^e are off.
You will assist my poor appetite by
your presence and example, Madam ?
I insist ! You will join me ? Plielim
— who told you to build a fire ? What
do you mean by taking such a liberty
in Madam's house? Now vou mav
warm this chicken-])ie — not the lob-
ster — mind — l)ut this, }'ou may fry
some of the ham — open this bottle
of claret — l)ring everything into the
dining-room — or, no — set the table
here — it's cozy! When Madam and
I have done, you are to allay 3'our
insatiable greed by devouring every
morsel that is left. You hear me,
Phelim ? ' '
Having supped with tremendous
gusto on a variet}' of indigestibles,
the invalid bade his ho.stess good
night and betook himself to bed, and
soon the walls echoed the thunder of
his repose.
\To he co)!iiiiiirJJ\
ACHSAH WRAY.
[A Tale of Nnnquit Hill and the Naiipaug, near .Strawberry Inlet. N. IL, 172-.]
By L. A. Ca7>erly.
I
"Stay, stay thee, Goodman Tyson, art mad this holy day ?
Or art a witch's envoy belated on thy way.
Or, while the good folk worship with pious Master Drowne,
Think'st thou to ride a steeple-chase through goodly Naupaug town ? ' '
" Nay, sta}' me not, but rather speed thou mine errand on;
No soul hath slept on Nonquit since yester's set of sun ;
And even while I hasten for help. Dame Colman's child.
Beset with unknown dangers, maj' perish in the wild.
Deep in th' accursed forest she wanders, and I go
To fetch the keen-nosed hunters of Trapper Bigelow."
The meeting-folk thronged round him in pity and affright,
And mothers clasped their children with faces awed and white.
The}' saddled him their fleetest horse, and, as he spurred away.
The good folk knelt upon the green with Pastor Drowne to pra}'.
But one knelt not, nor wept she, but with set face and pale
She hurried all unnoted along the Nonquit trail.
A CHS AH IVRAV. 27
The lost child's mortal peril made her heart with terror thrill ;
Yet, if a squirrel chattered, it beat the faster still,
Lest Mistress Wyvan's railing should stop her on her way,^
Small ruth had Mistress Wyvan for the bound-girl, Achsah W'ray.
The changing light and shadow along the forest trail
Seemed darkening and brightening vipon her life's sad tale : —
The pleasant English village, the father's new-made grave,
And then the sick'ning tossing between the skj- and wave,
The poverty and hardship of the home on Nonquit Hill,
The mother's grief, the failing of her heart and brain and will.
The neighbors' kindness turning to looks of hate and fear.
The dreadful accusation, the darksome cell at vSpeare.
Ah I merciful the fever that snatched the gallows' prey !
Short was the magistrates' debate concerning Achsah Wray,
For up spake Mistress Wyvan, " Good Sirs, I '11 take her in,
Though some there be who deem her curst for her mother's .sin.
"And, verily, the witch's child hath grievous need to .strive
With prayer and toil and fasting to save her soul alive ;
For Satan hath desired her ; yet, if Heaven willeth so.
He may be driven out of her with many stripes, I trow. "
Still through these shad'wy pictures flitted the laughing face
Of little ]Mary Colman, — a .stern life's single grace, —
At pla\' about the threshold, or on the mother's knee
Soothing her dark'ning anguLsh with childish gait}-.
A great sob broke, " God, help me to find the child, I pray."
Some angel, .strong and loving, .seemed the soul of Achsah Wray,
And as the op'ning pathway showed the homes on Nonquit Hill
She turned aside, and entered the forest dark and still.
II.
Along the .sombre Xaupaug the .searchers' quest was vain.
The fourth day, dumb with anguLsh, Dame Colman watched the rain.
Four days ! when not the boldest dur.st pass one night alone
Within the awful forest ! — She hears a .step, a moan.
A torn and wretched figure that plained and muttered fast
Fell spent across the doorstone ; Dame Colman rose aghast.
And, peering through the twilight, feared she was going wild
When by the fallen figure she thought she .saw her child.
28 A CHS AH WRAY.
Nay, it was no delusion ; she touched the shining hair ;
vShe clasped her child, her treasure ; — God then had heard her prayer.
" For all Thy love, T praise Thee ! " She raised her eyes; there lay
Stretched senseless on the threshold the bound-girl, Achsah Wray.
In awe and tender pit}- the folk on Nonquit Hill
Tended and blest the witch's child ; but, all unconscious still
Of long-withheld cares,ses, she trod in wear\- maze.
Now with the child, and now alone, those endless forest ways.
None ever knew what perils the loving heart had known.
The child could onl}- prattle how, by the moss)' stone,
She wakened in the sunshine, and Achsah Wray had come,
vShe said with tears and kisses, to carry Mary home.
But home was far, and Marj^ borne safe on Achsah's arm.
Had slept, when she was tired, enfolded close and warm,
Had fed on nuts and berries, and water from the dell.
But Achsah was not hungry ; — so much the child coukl tell.
But watchers by the pillow heard many a niuttererl prayer.
And stifled exclamation of terror and despair.
And knew that Achsah listened for the howl of wolves, and heard
The catamount's far wailing, and where the hemlock stirred.
Watched for the lurking redskin ; nor ever lost her dread
Of Mistress Wyvan's anger. They knew how she had fled
In undiscerning terror from the noise the searchers made,
Believing it the din of fiends that roamed the forest shade.
vSo weary days passed onward, biit when the night came on.
In pity for her anguish the}- brought the little one.
And cow'ring on her pillow, she clasped the sleeping child.
With eyes alert and sleepless ; yet oft her poor lips smiled
And thus she smiled at daybreak, as, rising suddenly.
She stretched her arms, — awakened, the child sent forth a cry, —
With face whence joy had vanished all trace of .sorrows past
She murmured, "Hush, my darling; we "re safe at home, at last."
They laid her in the graveyard with tender prayers and tears.
And all along the Naupaug they told for many years
Her sad and simple story ; but time has swept away
The homes where children listen to the tale of Achsah Wray.
CHRISTOPHER C. vSHAW
By K. C. Hiiiihiiisoii.
LTHOUGH mainly en-
gaged in other business
in another state, there
are few names better
known in agricuhural
circles in New Hampshire than that
of Christopher C. Shaw, of Milford,
president of the New Hampshire
Horticultural Societ}', and a pioneer
in the work of the Grange in this
state. Mr. Shaw was born in Mil-
ford, March 20, 1824, on the farm
which he now occupies, and where
he remained until nineteen years of
age, receiving such education as the
district school afforded. At eighteen
he was made clerk of the state militia
in his native town, and a year later
was commissioned captain of the
same.
At this time he commenced retail-
ing dry goods from house to house,
and two 5'ears later opened a country
store in ]\Iilford, continuing in this
line until 1848, when he closed out
all departments, except dr}' goods,
and removed to I,awrence, Mass.
There he continued this line of trade
for two years, and then removed his
.stock to Hanover street, Boston,
where he was similarly engaged a
year or two, finally closing out and
connecting him.self with the large
importing and jobbing dr}- goods
30
CHRISTOPHER C. SHAW.
house of J. W. Blodgett & Co., in
which business he has remained until
the present tinie, either as a proprie-
tor or salesman, with the exception
of some seven and a half ^-ears im-
mediately following the great fire of
1872, in Boston, which completely
destroyed his business and retired
him to his farm in Milford.
About this time the Grange move-
ment was sweeping over the great
west, and attracted his attention to
the extent that he sent for circulars
and documents calculated to inform
him of the character of the order and
its work. After satisfying himself
regarding the same, he arranged to
have the first deputy of the order,
coming to the state, visit him at
Milford. The result was that he
received a call from General Deputy
Eben Thompson, representing the
National Grange. After two daj's'
work Granite Grange, No. 7, was
organized in Milford, wath Mr. Shaw
as master. A few weeks later the
State Grange was organized, and he
was elected its secretary and appoint-
ed general deputy for the state. In
March following, Hillsborough Coun-
ty Council was organized, and he
was chosen purchasing agent for the
county. Later in the same month,
at a special meeting of the State
Grange, he was made purchasing
agent for the state. In January,
1S77, at the organization of the New
Hampshire Mutual Fire Insurance
Company, he was chosen president
(which position he held for seven
years), and in the following De-
cember was elected secretary of the
Patrons' Relief Association, and its
president in January, 1S93. During
the years fror.i 1S73 to iSSo, at which
latter date he re.siened all his official
positions in the State Grange, pre-
paratory to resuming mercantile bus-
iness in Boston, his time was largely
spent in organizing subordinate
granges, and otherwise developing
the order in the state, and no man
is held in greater esteem by the old-
er members of the grange in New
Hampshire.
Politically he was born a Whig,
but early became an Abolitionist,
and graduated into the Republican
party at its organization. He ser\-ed
the towrn of Milford in the state legis-
lature in 1S75 and 1S76, and the Re-
publican party seven years as a mem-
ber of its state committee.
Mr. Shaw has been an enthusiast
in the culture of fruit, and a large
exhibitor of fruits, vegetables, fancy
poultry, Chester County swine, and
Jersey cattle at county, state, and the
New England Agricultural, Massa-
chusetts Horticultural, and American
Pomological societies' fairs. He has
been a trustee of the New England
Agricultural Society, and a life mem-
ber of the three latter associations for
many years. While making an ex-
hibit of fruits at the late World's
Columbian exposition at Chicago, he
became dissatisfied with the showing
made by New Hampshire in the ex-
hibit, especially in the fruit depart-
ment, and with a view^ to remedying
the matter in the future, should the
occasion ever arise, he, in connection
with a few others, took action while
at Chicago, which led to the organ-
ization of the New Hampshire Hor-
ticultural Society, of which he was
elected, and still remains, president,
and which he hopes, with the coop-
eration of other friendly influences,
will 3'et become an instrument of
great value in developing the agri-
IN HAYING TIME. 51
cultural resources of the state along and is president of the Boston Charit-
the lines of fruit and vegetable cult- able Association. He is also presi-
ure. dent of the Milford Historical and
In religion Mr. Shaw is a liberalist, Genealogical Society.
IX HAVING TIME.
By Laura Garland Carr.
Lazily, lazily, under the trees,
In my light hammock, I swing and I swing,
Winked at by sunbeams and fanned by the breeze.
While from the meadows the labor sounds sing :
Swish swish, and swish swish, down by the willows
Grasses are falling in green, fragrant billows.
White-shirted mowers — a wavering line —
Move down the valley— broad shouldered and lithe.
See — in the sunlight— their blades flash and shine !
Hark — to the sound of the sharpening scythe I
'Tis snicker snicker, snicker snicker, down by the willows
Where grasses are tumbling in green, fragrant billows.
Pinafored lasses and bare-footed bo^-s
Straggle behind with their small forks and rakes ;
Light is their labor but heavy their noise —
From its long slumber the hill echo wakes —
With shouting and calling they stir all the willows.
And to.ss up the grasses that fall in green billows.
Farther away, in the rakers' brigade,
Da.shes of color enliven the scene.
Long, cur\-ing winrows and hay stacks are made ;
Draperies blend with the flutter of green.
Ripples of laughter come over the willows
Where, yesterday, grasses were thrown in green billows.
Now, there is rattling of carts and of chain.
Trampling of oxen, the creak of a gate.
Can the good farmer be thinking of rain?
Now I must hurry or I .shall be late I
I '11 join the brigade over there by the willows
And ride on the hay that once was grassy billows.
LUCY J. W. CARPENTER.
By H. H. Metcalf.
ONG before Deninan
Thompson, a native of
that town, brought the
"Whitcomb" name into
universal notice through
his inimitable presentation of New
England countr}- life in the "Old
Homestead," the Whitcombs were a
well known famih^ in the town of
Swanzey, a notable representative
thereof being Col. Carter Whitcomb,
a grandson of Col. Jonathan Whit-
comb who fought at Lexington and
Bunker Hill.
Lucy J., daughter of Col. Carter
and Lucy (Baker) Whitcomb, was
born March 9, 1834, at Saxton's
River, Vt., where her father was
then residing engaged in a business
enterprise, returning to his native
town two years after her birth. She
was educated after leaving the dis-
trict school at Mount Caesar Semin-
ary in Swanzey, under the instruc-
tion of those well known educators.
Prof. Joseph C. Barrett and Rev.
S. H. McCollester, D. D. June 14,
1864. she was united in marriage
with George Carpenter, a prominent
citizen of the town, conspicuous in
the Greenback and Labor party
movements in this state, and candi-
date of the same for governor.
Possessed of a strong inclination
for study and decided literary tastes,
she took up the Chautauqua literary
THE 7 IDES.
33
and scientific course, along with her
husband, soon after it was instituted,
they being members of the Ashuelot
C. L. vS. C, completing the full course,
and subsequently pursuing the uni-
versity course, under able professors.
Mrs. Carpenter has developed decided
ability as a writer, and is possessed
of poetic talent, as has been demon-
strated by frequent productions in
verse which have often found their
way into print.
She was activeh' instrumental in the
organization of Mount Caesar Library
Association of Swanzey, which occu-
pies for library and social uses the
old seminary building, which, after
its disuse for school purposes, came
into Mr. Carpenter's po.ssession, and
was by him donated to the associa-
tion, in which she has been from the
.start a leading spirit.
Mrs. Carpenter was a charter mem-
ber of Golden Rod Grange of vSwan-
zey, and has been a faithful and zeal-
ous worker in the cause of the order,
holding various ofhces in the local
organization, and .serving as lecturer
of Cheshire Count}' Pomona Grange.
vShe is also a loyal and devoted mem-
ber of the Daughters of the American
Revolution, claiming eligibility from
her distinguished great-grandfather,
Colonel Jonathan Whitcomb.
Her domestic life as mistress of
"Valley View," their pleasantly locat-
ed farm home at the base of Mt. Caesar,
is characterized by a refined ta.ste and
gracious manner which give charm
and zest to the hospitality of the place-
THE TIDES.
By Charles Henry CJiesley.
I.
Over the sands in the morning's gray
Crept the tide with a motion slow ;
Over the east at the dawn of day
Burst the sun with a ro-Sj- glow.
Riding in with a buoyant pride
A fair .ship sped by the harbor bar ;
Life was good with the flowing tide.
And the dawning day in the east afar.
II.
Down from the sands in the evening's gray
Fell the tide till the flats lay bare ;
Down in the west at the clo.se of day
Dropped the sun with a ruby glare.
Drifting out on the .stranded side
A worn hull .sped by the harbor bar ;
Life was wrecked with the ebbing tide,
And the dying da}- in the west afar.
i
A NEW ENGLAND POET— JAMEvS E. NESMITH.
By H. M.
[OR the past century the
essayist, whenever re-
viewing the Hterature of
America as a whole or
discussing an author as
an individual, has in justice to the
subject of his theme Ijegun his criti-
cism b}- first enumerating the long
list of "restrictions" which have
seemingly fettered the aspiring Amer-
ican genius.
Hampered by Puritanism, pulled
down by a dead weight of British
prejudice against the younger
brother, lacking historic background,
and wanting fair perspective, — these
are the chief restrictions that have
been counted as the causes which
have ended disastrously in their effect
upon our literature.
However, at the end of two hun-
dred and seventy odd years of abso-
lute growth, this country (which has
been boasted of iii one breath as a
prodigy of strength and excused in
the next as but a child in ^-ears)
needs no longer the apology of its
critics. We have lived in three cen-
turies what the ancients lived in three
times three centuries. Even in later
history the slow development of other
countries is wholly out of ratio with
our rapid growth and advancement.
What nine hundred years of Scottish
background could give to Burns and
Scott as inspiration can be equaled in
the New World if the "patriotic
bard" but appear, or if another
knight of fiction but arise upon the
field of letters.
Judgment, therefore, should be
passed upon the American author
without claiming excuses for him at
the outset, or asserting that an undue
advantage belongs to his English
cousin.
Dr. Holmes has told us that it
takes three generations to make a
gentleman, and he has added that
portraits and miniatures, old silver
and fine lace, go a long way on the
road to gentility. There is, no
doubt, a great truth in the wise Au-
tocrat's logic, " Blood will tell ; " and
that old saying is a much-quoted one
at this "century-end," as a later
word is being spoken by the biogra-
phers for our greatest heroes. Where
glory was once found in the mere ex-
pression, "the self-made man," this
same man is now having claimed for
him an ancestry whose stock and
l)lood have, after all, told in the
sinews and veins of the hero. Even
our finest type of American manhood,
the man whose life was held up to
the little citizens of ever}- red school-
house in the sixties as a possible ex-
ample for the American born bo\\
even he is, according to best author-
ities, accounted for by a genealogy
which proves without question, — and
we believe ju.stly, — that inherited ten-
dencies played a great part in mould-
ing the destiny of the man, Abraham
Eincoln. And the blood and bone of
A NEW ENGLAND POET.
35
the colonial forefathers of our seven-
teenth century certainly " tell " upon
this generation of able thinkers who
are the representative men of to-da3^
The poet who sings from his heart
at the plough is surely fortune's
child : but he who sings from the
library which is rich in the product
of an inheritance of former genera-
tions is surer of his pitch at all
times, even if his flights of song
may not always equal the raptures
of the open-air singer. In con-
templating the ability and possi-
bility of the rarest product of man's
mind, a poetic nature, the inherited
tendencies that belong to a family
race cannot be omitted as unimpor-
tant factors in the poet's make-up,
original as his own individuality may
appear.
James E. Nesmith, the author of
the volume of poems entitled " Phi-
loctetes " which has claimed for itself
the attention of the critical reader, is
a poet whose personality suggests at
once original thought. Yet the traits
of character which mark him as a
poet and lover of nature are the be-
quests of a race of strong men and
women who for five generations have
lived among the hills and valleys of
New Hampshire, a family whose
name has ever been associated with
thrift, energy, and the love of God.
The Nesmith stock dates back to
the year 1690, where we find the fam-
ily emigrating from Scotland into Ire-
land. Here the}' settled in the valle\'
of the river Bann, that charming
stream of water famous in Irish
romance and history. An entertain-
ing picture might be drawn of that
stretch of countr}- in northern Ireland
at the time when these Scotsmen
founded for themselves a new home,
one year only after the terrible siege
of Londonderry. We wonder and
marvel at the choice the\' made when
emigrating from the Scottish hills.
Hut that's "another .story,"— and,
accepting the dry facts of history-, we
read in the page of genealogy that
" iri 1718 Dea. James Nesmith and
family emigrated to America, and
was one of the sixteen settlers of the
ancient township of Londonderry."
For now nearly two hundred years
the descendants of this same w'orthy
deacon and his good wife, Elizabeth
McKeen, have identified themselves
with the hi.story of the two towns of
Derry and Windham, where they
have represented the typical New
England life, associating themselves
in the growth and advancement of
their town's interests, and leaving an
honorable record upon the pages of
their histories. The mothers who
shared the fortunes of these grand-
sires were worthy specimens 01 wom-
anhood, and the influence of their
.strength of character can l)c traced in
the sons as one generatiori after
another grew into manhood. In
reading the family genealogy it is
interesting to notice the character-
istics that are repeated again and
again in each succeeding generation.
From the time of the first Dea. James
Nesmith until the closing record of
the poet's father, Lieut. Gov. John
Nesmith, the reader is constantly
confronted by such terms as "a
man of sound judgment;" the ex-
pressions, "diligence," "keen fore-
thought," '■ courteous bearing," and
"honorable lousiness relations,"
terms that seem part and parcel of the
inheritance that de.scended with the
title-deeds of the old family home-
stead.
3^'
A NEW KNCrLAX!) PORT.
l'
Col. Jacob M. Nesmith.
With such a background was the
poet, Mr. Nesmith, Ijorn, under cir-
cumstances and in an atmosphere
that many another poet of the past or
the present would have gladh' ac-
cepted as a birthright with "the
golden spoon." His father, John
Nesmith, the fifth in descent from the
original emigrant stock, went to
Lowell from Derry early in that city's
annals. He and his brother, Thomas,
associated themselves with the rapidly
increasing interests. Foreseeing the
possibilities of its water-power for
manufacturing purposes, the two
brothers furthered every measure to
develop the growth and prosperity of
the town. The practical man of
affairs, endowed with wise and sound
sense in connection with public in-
terests, Mr. Nesmith, although no
politician, was called upon twice to
hold the ofhce of lieutenant-governor
during the exciting period in state
history, the years of 1862 and '63.
But the personal characteristics of
the poet's father, — his .strict integrity,
his concentration of energj- and
faculty to one end and aim, his in-
domitable perseverance, together
with his devotion to philosophical
and mechanical .study, — these are the
characteristics which attract our at-
tention in viewing the inheritance of
the author of poems like "The Yoke
of Con.science," and "Backed with
Resolution."
Mr. John Nesmith married in 1840
his third wife, Harriet Rebecca Man-
ser (among whose ancestral family
was numbered General Warren), and
together they led a life of unusual
domestic happiness. For more than
sixty years the Nesmiths ha\-e lived
at the beautiful homestead in Belvi-
derc, Lowell ; and as the .sons and
daughters have married these yovmger
branches of the famih- have wandered
only acro.ss the wide lawns to pitch
the tents of their new homes under
the very .shadow of the old. Flerc
Mr. James Nesmith, himself, has his
Thomas Nesmith.
A NEW ENGLAND POET.
37
John Nesmith.
aesthetic home, and here, too, Gov-
ernor Greenhalge's late residence is
situated, Mrs. Greenhalge being one
of the four daughters of the Nesmith
household. During the guberna-
torial career of Governor Andrew,
this mansion house of the lieutenant-
governor was one where hospitality
threw open its doors to societ}' and
philanthropy. And never in the
quieter years that followed were they
closed again, except, perhaps, during
those months that brought
sorrow to the home circle.
Mrs. John Nesmith herself
lived many years after the
death of her beloved hus-
band, and no words of hon-
est admiration are too strong
to paint the picture of this
broad-minded, loving-heart-
ed woman, who graced the
Nesmith home and Lowell
societ}'.
Among such influences and
surroundings Mr. James E.
Nesmith was born, January 27, 1856^
Educated in the public schools of the
city until he had finished the High, he
went from Eowell to Phillips Acad-
emy, Exeter, N. H., where he re-
mained for one year. Naturally ar-
tistic, and a desultory student for the
most part, Mr. Nesmith saw little
attraction in a university life, and he
chose rather, for the next few 5'ears,
to work at the National Academy of
Design in New York, and at the
Boston art schools. But, art lover
that he was by nature, he still had
the cultured man's instinct for a pro-
fession, and after a later course at the
Harvard Daw School we find him in
18S4 admitted to the bar. In 1885
Mr. Nesmith married Miss Alice
Eastman of Lowell, and the j^ast ten
3'ears of married happiness have
brought few changes to them ; the
pleasantest reminder of the flight of
time being their own three little
daughters, who have outstretched
their babyhood altogether. Mr. Nes-
mith has been, during these years of
stud}- and application, on the other
side three times. The earlier trips
were during his twenties, and while
in Rome at these times he studied art
in Miss Foley's studio ; while his
The Nesmith Estate, in Lowell.
38
A NFAV J-.NCrLANP POF.T.
sketching trips in this country have for the time being remains "caviare
been with the artist Phelps, partic- to the general."
ularly during the latter's sojourn As poet and singer, Mr. Nesmith
among the mountains in New Ilanip- holds a somewhat isolated position in
shire. his art. Unlike the modern h'rists.
With the publication of his fir.st and having but little tolerance for the
volume of poems, Mr. Nesmith's decadent school, this lover of nature
James E. Nesmith.
ability as a poet was brought be-
fore the public by Mr. Douglas
Sladon, the English critic, who at
once counted him among: the Ameri-
can singers in a late compilation of
the literary men belonging to this
generation. This fact demands of
the public a certain recognition of
the man b.imself, even if his poetry
in all its simplicity has cared but
little for the comradeship of fellow-
workers, catching in.spiration rather
from the genius of the master minds.
]Mr. Nesmith's first volume, entitled
"Monadnock," appeared in the late
summer of iS88. From the first to
the last page the finish of each line is
that of the careful, if not alwavs sue-
A NEW ENGLAND POET.
cessful, student. The longer poems
are those that most broadly bear the
stamp of nature, Init it is within the
province of the sonnet that Mr. Xes-
mith has done his best work. Both
in his earlier volume and in " Philoc-
tetes," the real worth and dignity of
Studio in James Nesmith's House.
his thought is expressed in a purity
of diction that might belong to an
older poet. Po.ssibly in the earlier
volume the kinship with nature is
more apparent, but no great shade of
difference is noticeable between the
ideals of these two works. No trans-
itional period seems to have changed
his thought, — the same subjects
appeal to him, — mountains, crags,
and peaks, — rivers, streams, and val-
leys, — and the personality of the
Almighty P'atherhood has not grown
dimmer with maturer years. A sim-
ilar spirit of faith that kept Lowell
and Whittier calm in the midst of de-
nominational factions, seems to be the
gift of this younger singer, and ethi-
cal and doctrinal subjects are matters
of lesser moment to him than the
grandeur and truth of the creation.
Now and then a big drop of
humanity pulses in the veins of his
lines. In none of his .sonnets does
this kinship with mankind .show
it.self more intensely than through
the venses entitled " In the Street."
" Methiiiks invisible agencies there are
'Twixt soul and soul ; that each to each
extends
A salutation, and, in passing, blends
Its being, by the body's sensual bar
Itnpeded not ; that none, or near or far
Their fellows meet, but that each spirit bends
In sympathy — is altered in its ends —
As dips the needle to the northern star.
If this be fantas}-, mj- soul yet feels
A perturbation in these thronging streets :
The agitations of innumerous souls
Ivvinced in vagaries my own reveals,
That like a faithful compass falsely cheats.
Drawn from its centre bj- conflicting poles."
But, for the most part, Mr. Xes-
mith comes not into touch with men
and women. He lavs his ear verv
Library.
close to mother earth and knows
•
many of her secrets, but her children
he leaves unquestioned. I doulit if
the complexity of human minds, or
the spontaneity of hinnan action,
would appeal to his inspiration even
if he were capable of reading the
heart of mankind. An exponent of
the age, but not in touch with the
40
A N/-:\V JuXa/.AND POET.
age, — a negative exponent, as it
were, of the times, — Mr. Xcsniith
cannot interest himself in the per-
sonal eqnations that mark ilic indi-
viduality of tlie moment. The Inir-
den of each of his sonnets is Ijut the
picture of nature — a reflective repro-
duction of nature — as she dominates
the sea, the sky, or mountain side.
In comparing the sonnets in the
two volumes, we find that in " Phil-
octetes " the action is stronger, the
vision broader, — for instance, in the
sonnet of the earlier collection to
"The vSummer Tempest," the pic-
ture is true to nature :
" The tempest drapes the azure dome in black,
Kolls lip the rain, the whirlwind, and the
rack,
And thunders in a roaring torrent by."
But it is in the later .sonnet that
we catch in.spiration. Here, in the
"Storm in the Mountains," we see
the grandeur and the fire, the power
of the oncoming tempest.
" The vast and sombre company of clouds,
Among the mountains brooding gloomily.
Veiling the giant peaks in murky shrouds, —
All day have hatched a dark conspiracj-
Against calm Nature. See ! they leave the
steep.
Their forms gigantic grown, and, rolling
higher,
With muffled thunder, menacing and deep, —
And furtive, flickering tongues of angry fire
Jamming the beast before them in one wave.
As if the storm had but one mighty breath, —
\Vith edges torn and flying, on they rave,
In awful beauty ; the dark vale beneath
Is filled with their wild fury, — wide around
A whirling chasm, — dark, disturbed, pro-
found."
Again in the Monadnock volume
we find an exquisite sonnet entitled
" In March." A sj^mpathetic knowl-
edge of nature is what gives these
fourteen lines their 1:»eauty : 3'et, it is
in "The First Thaw in vSpring " — a
sonnet in the later publication — that
we lo.se ourselves in the mental \ision
which his pen suggests.
Beneath the south wind and tin sun's w;:rm
ray
Earth slowly uncongeals : the aged snow
In dissolution falls; the loud brooks flow
Through hollow'd ice caves pitted with
decay :
A dripping moisture wraps the humid day ;
The once white fields their dusky lining
show
In dreary spots. How large looks yonder
crow
Upon the elm tree ere he flits away.
The rainy lights shine through the naked
trees.
The cold, damp woods soak'd by the thaw-
ing breeze ;
Along the mirj- road the wheel-ruts gleam.
And slushy pools ; the shallow wayside
strea tn
vSings in its muddy channel, and on high
The clouds float lazily across the sky."
Mr. Nesmith's chief power lies in
the simple portrayal of nature, but a
certain element of courage inspires
another class of sonnets that in them-
selves command respect even if they
do not bear so deep a mark of a poet.
Here is found the soul of the man
as he challenges "Fate," "Soli-
tude," "Barren lyabor," and "Lost
Legions," or where he dwells upon
the inevitable victory of time, as in
"Vain Resistance," and "Time's
Perfid}'." There are masterful
thoughts here, even if the scope of
the sonnet gives them but little room
in which to be developed.
The cardinal interest of these
poems lies in their really true artistic
worth. As a word-painter Mr. Nes-
mith is as faithful a colorist as we
can find among the pupils of Tcnn}--
son, and a certain strength and terse-
ness of epigram adds a personality
that is as Nesmithian as the art is
Tennysonian. In fact, it is this .strong
individualit}' which keeps Mr. Nes-
mith from belonging to the coterie of
HALE— DA VIS, PIERCE.
41
lessci' inocitni songsters ; and yet this
same characteristic may be the very
stumbling block to wider apprecia-
tion and greater development. At
present Mr. Nesmith, wlio is en-
gaged upon a biography of the late
Governor Greenhalge, is letting his
poetic temperament lie fallow. What
the result of a year's rest may be we
cannot prophesy. If the man has
more within him, we may feel fairly
sure that a third volume will be, in
the end, the out-come of this period
of thought, and whatever its theme,
the heart of nature will be reflected
in its lines.
JUIvY.
By Atiiiie J/. L. Hawes.
AVhen cuckoos in the thicket hide
And prate about the heat.
When, far and wide, the country side
With new-mown hay is sweet,
When butterflies in vague unrest
Go idly wandering by,
When phcebe-birds make anxious quest,
And oriole's breast flames by his nest
Upon the elm tree high.
Then 'tis July.
JOHN PARKER HALE.
JEFFERvSOX DAVIvS. FRANKLIN PIERCE.
NDER the above title,
Senator A\' i 1 1 i a m E .
Chandler contributed to
the Granite Moxthj.v
for April, 1894 (Volume
XVI, No. 4), a most interesting his-
torical article dealing with the three
distinguished men referred to, and
narrating some of the incidents in
which they were mutually concerned.
At the conclusion of the article, vSen-
ator Chandler writes :
' ' Even the pro-slavery Democrats
in the senate, who at first made up
their minds to ostracise Mr. Hale and
to treat him as an Ishmaelite, outside
of any health}^ political organization,
soon changed their tactics, and most
of them came to be fond of Mr. Hale
and always to be courteous in their
demeanor towards him. On one oc-
casion, Jefferson Davis, having u.sed
harsh words towards him, was met
b}' Mr. Hale with a spirited reply;
and afterwards Mr. Davis made an
advance towards honorable amends,
which Mr. Hale accepted with the
utmost good will. The incident is
shown by the accompanying letter.
[ Reproduced in fac-similc. ]
4^
[fV/)' MEN DO NOT GO TO CHURCIf.
"A search in the Couiircssional
Record does not disclose the debate
ill which the foregoing encounter
tiook place. Mr. Davis was still
chairman of the niilitar}' committee,
and reported the army appropriation
bill and defended it and secured its
passage, and he and Mr. Hale de-
bated this and other measures during
the same period. There is, however,
no unerring indication of the discus-
sion in which the controversy arose,
the record of which Mr. Davis ex-
punged with Mr. Hale's consent.
The aa:reement was doubtless re-
turned to Mr. Hale liy the reporter,
after he had made the expurgation
agreed upon. The letter is credit-
able both to Mr. Davis and to Mr.
Hale."
vSince the publication of that article
a letter has been discovered, written
by Senator Hale to his wife, which
throws light upon the matter referred
to, and is both interesting and his-
torically valuable for the glimpse it
gives us of the inside of political
affairs at that time. An extract from
it is as follows :
Washini'.ton, ]). C, Jiiiic 3, iS6o.
We had a little flare up in the Senate
yesterday, in which I had a part. Davis of
Mississippi had introduced an amendment
from the Committee on Military Affairs
appropriating twenty-five thousand dollars
to purchase books of instruction for the
army and militia. This I pronounced a. job.
Davis said with a good deal of temper that
I had made a. false accusal ion . After a while
I got the floor and replied ; showed that I
was right, and Davis openly retracted in
the Senate what he had said, and when I
came home to my lodgings last evening, I
found a note from him assuring me of his
regret at what had occurred, and request-
ing me to consent that nothing of it should
appear in the report of our proceedings,
and if I did assent to that proposition, that
I should say so in writing my assent on the
bottom of the sheet on which his note was
written, and hand it to Mr. Sutton, the re-
porter, which I very readily did. I have
given you the substance only of what oc-
curred, and very briefly at that, l)ut the
substance only. It will not appear in the
(ilobc, and that is why I have written 3'ou
about it- . . . Aff. yours,
JOHN P. HALE.
WHY mb:n do not go to chi^rch.
By Tlioiiias C. BethiDW, Concord.
[A Layman of the Episcopal Church.]
HIS is a question long
since worn threadbare.
It has, doubtless, been
put daily for the past
hundred years, and will
be asked and discussed as many times
more for the next thousand years to
come.
It seems to me that Episcopalians,
of all men, can shed the least possi-
ble light on the subject. It touches
them lighth'. Men do go to the
Episcopal church. It is stated that
no other church approaches in male
attendance, pro rata^ this great
church. The Episcopalian, be he
great or small, rich or poor, loves
the church. Next to home it stands
foremost in heart and mind.
The clo.se good-fellowship, too,
that exists outside among its mem-
Ijers is certainlv remarkalile. Go
[f7/r MEN DO NOT GO TO CHURCH.
4:
abroad, go anywhere, the luonient
you find that the stranger who sits
l)y your side on the journey, or at
the hotel, is a churchman, or he dis-
covers you to be one, a friend indeed
is found, and a pleasant familiarity
begins instanth', which, among people
in general, might otherwise take da}'S
to create, if, indeed, it existed at all.
This feature is most marked. It sel-
dom exists elsewhere. It is not
strange, then, with such kindly
under-currents, that the worship of
Almighty God in the Episcopal
church is largely attended by men.
It is said, "Once an Episcopalian,
always an Episcopalian."' This say-
ing is- generally accepted. The
church has great and lasting attrac-
tions — its music, usualh' of the high-
est order, its hymns are poems, its
service — uplifting, solemn, beautiful
always. Without doubt, a long-
drawn-out discourse would land a
churchman in the realms of nod and
nightmare as readih* as any other
person, but he is reasonabh'safe from
that risk, as the short sermon is the
unwritten law. There is, as yet, no
known general remed}' for tedious
men and dull sermons, but, certainly,
if the sermon be brief, the possibility
of putting a part of the congregation
to sleep and giving the balance an
excuse or reason for having nervous
prostration, is reduced to the mini-
mum.
The question itself is misleading.
Men do go to church. One can quite
as consistently ask why men do not
2fo to the theatre, the base-ball
game — the two star attractions of
the day. As a matter of fact, out
of the many, very few people go to
either, yet, upon the first impulse,
one would perhaps sa}-, the attend-
ance at the theatre and the ball field
far outnumbers that at church. The
play and the ball game, at Boston or
any other great centre, draw their
patrons from at least twenty miles in
all directions. Within this radius
there are hundreds of churches.
After careful consideration it is safe
to say, the daih* attendance at the
theatre and ball game combined will
not compare by many thousand with
the Sunday attendance alone of men
at church, within the same radius.
Men, then, do go to church, thou-
sands upon thousands. The ma.sses,
however, do not. The va.st major-
ity, the ''rank and file," spend their
Sunday's at home with their friends
and families. The Sunday news-
paper keeps many clo.sely there, and
deserves unbounded credit on that
ground alone. Nearh' everj- Sunday
journal furnishes i'.s reader with the
best sermon obtainable, and much
other matter for religious thought.
It does not, however, keep many, if
any, from the church who have any
inclination to go. As the matter
stands to-day, iin)i 7rhoiii flic cluirch
interests go ; those that it does not, do
not oo.
The teachings of the church
should, and do, interest almost all
men ; but men at large demand that
those teachings should be placed
before them with the same character
of common sense u.sed by men in
their dail}' .social and business inter-
course. Broad, clever propounders
with interesting methods are vitally
necessary. Bishop Brooks was all
this. His church was a church of
many devout men. W^herever he
went men were his followers. His
life, his .story was the story of
the Cross, and .so .simj^h', so beau-
44
/[•//)■ J/A"iV DO NOT GO TO CHURCH.
tifully was it lokl, all men reverently
paused and listened. His greatness,
his goodness, charmed every one,
excepting, perhaps, a few bigots of
his own denomination. The stor\' of
Christ is the best of all stories. If
sensibly and interestingly told, it at
once attracts the attention of the
most indifferent.
Take for illu.stration Gen. Lew
Wallace's book — " Ben Hur," where
the divine story is told so beautifully
that thousands and thousands of
men and women, aye, children, have
read it, who, perhaps, had never
before looked into a religious l)Ook.
Man}', a great many, who have never
opened the H0I3' Bible since eai'liest
childhood, have read this little work
from cover to cover. The great
good accomplished by "Ben Hur"
cannot be over-estimated. It reaches
thoughtless mankind because it is
interesting, and tells "the old, old
story " in a fresh and gracious wa}'.
Before you can train the animal
3^ou must capture it ; before you can
handle the man you must interest
him. The good clergyman who
sj)ends his time preaching about the
flood of two thousand years ago and
does not .sometimes refer to the floods
of 1896, here at home, will not in-
crease his church membership a single
voter. The clergyman who discourses
continually about Joshua, the valiant
warrior of old, and never mentions
the great names of Xapoleon, Wel-
lington, Grant, vSherman, will find
himself floundering in the same boat,
drifting and slowl}' sinking into de-
served olj.scurity. The triumphs, the
joys, the misfortunes of to-day at-
tract the careful attention of the men
of to-day.
Then let the preacher, with the
cross ever uplifted, far in the fore-
ground, draw .some lessons, make
.some applications, from the victory of
to-day, the crime of yesterday, the
poverty which abounds about him
every day. He will .soon discover
that he attracts and holds the eye and
mind of men bv the thintr.s that are
tlaily occurring around them where
friends and neighbors are sometimes
the actors, where he utterly fails by
con.stantly using as figures the men
and things of a thousand 3'ears ago.
This should not be .so, .some good
man, living in the pa.st, will say, but
it is the stubborn fact, nevertheless.
The church should be more human.
It can readily be so without being
any the less divine.
Its general business affairs should
be conducted upon every day bus-
iness principles. If in debt, the min-
ister should not call for money, in-
sinuating almost that it is a direct
matter between the good L,ord and
the person who is asked to draw his
cheque. Call for money, if you want
to obtain it quickly, in the name of
the contractor, the bricklayer, the
plumber, — in other words, the man
you owe. Men respond to such ap-
peals. The church that uses these
methods gloriously wins. The
church that directly or indirectly says
the anger of heaven will rest upon
the head of the man who does not
give freely whether he can afford to
or not, 5'ou will find upon investiga-
tion has not paid in full the minister
or organist their last month's salary.
Intelligent men understand the anger
of the person one owes is the only
possible anger likely to occur, and
the more said about heavenh' rage,
the smaller the chance of an early
liquidation of the debt becomes.
LO]'E\S ST.IR.
45
Few clergymen understand the
ways and means of "begging" —
commonly called. They talk too
long and say too much about it — sug-
gestions how to give, the exact
amount one ought to give, are many
times too frequent. When the good
clergy learn that the individual ap-
pealed to, not themselves, is the best
and proper judge of what he is able
to contribute, the collection that fol-
lows will be found to be "larger
than usual." Most men have but
small admiration for the clergyman
who is con.stanth' and publicly med-
dling with matters which clearly be-
long to the sheriff or other officers of
the municipality to handle. Such a
man may "think he thinks" he is
doing mankind a sendee, but in .some
ca.ses there is revenue in it. or he is
dangling at one end or the other of
cheap politics, oftentimes interfering
with the personal rights and affairs of
a worthy neighbor. Sooner or later
he makes himself, his church, and
his friends, a vast amount of trouble.
Happily there are but few ministers
of this kind. Instead of being con-
tent to lead the way heavenward,
the}- coolly assume the general man-
agement of all things on the earth
besides. It is refreshing to know in
these good days they disappear early.
The average pulpit is unque.stion-
abl)' strong and learned, but seldom
interesting to the larger body of men.
" That "s the rub," and, in my judg-
ment, the greatest of all reasons
"why men do not go to church."
LOVE'S vSTAR.
/>> H. B. Met calf.
Behold — a star
Divine, serenely bright,
That shines afar —
The jewel of the night.
A budding hope
Is nurtured b}* its ray,
Love's horoscope
Foretells the dawn of da^^
The vale of tears
Unwarned — a vanishing .star.
Love disappears
And dark the vistas are.
At last, a vow
To bear the great God's will.
Peace conies — and, lo, —
The star is .shining .still.
THK ij':r,i<:Ni) ok john i^kvin and mary CxLASvSi-:.
[CONTINUI:!).]
Hy p.. /'. Teniicy.
CHAPTKR X.W'III.
^T came alx)ut in this way. Do you know, I fear something is
The doctor and Martha going to happen to him. And our
that evening sat long at dear Mr. Ross thinks .so, too. Oh,
the tea-tal)le discussing dear, dear, what would become of us
the situation: all, if anything should happen to
"You know, my dearest one, that him? I feel as if I should go dis-
the cosmical relations of John Levin tracted with thinking of it? Don't
are such that the insignificant affairs you feel worried. Doctor? "
of this colony no more di.sturb his "Yes, I do. I put him up a med-
soul's serenity than Atlas would shift icine chest, and he forgot to take it.
from one shoulder to another the Besides, there are liable to be mos-
globe to shake off a fly. Indeed, my quitoes."
amiable child, if you had any such Before midnight Martha was really
knowledge as I have of the 'Squire's convinced that there was danger, al-
vast designs, you would quake like though nothing was said that the
an ill-adjusted continent in view of doctor did not know already. She
the mighty forces which underheave made up her mind quite as much l)y
church and state when John Levin cross-questioning the doctor after
once gets his back up."
their visitor had gone out, as by
Will your volubility have another placing confidence in the widow.
cup of tea ? ' '
"No, my dear, but I will smoke,
if it be not offensive to you." And
the doctor drew back into the chim-
ney corner ; and .startled the witch-
cats on the roof, which were peering
"What made that creature come
in here, Robert ? "
' ' How do I know ? She is often oiit
in the night. I sometimes meet her
at .strange hours when I 'm called to
see patients. I shall not be surprised
down the smoke-stack, by burning if she is hung for a w'itch some da}^
tobacco under their noses. Just then
Angelica appeared, with cheeks I'ed
and flabby like wilted beef-steak.
" Do you suppose, my dear Martha,
and you, dear Doctor, that our beloved
pastor, — that is we want him for our
pastor you know, — is sleeping out of
doors this rainy night ; although it is
not very x-aXwy you know. But it's
execrably muddy. And I 've worried
myself all day about him, dear man.
" Do you know Ross ? "
"I 've seen him."
"And Sympkins and Banges, do
you know them ? ' '
" Oh, yes, I 've doctored them."
" Does John Levin know them? "
"He has seen Banges. I do not
know further."
"Is John Levin never hollow-
hearted ? Is he at heart Raymond's
friend ? "'
LEGEND OE JOHN LE\'LN AND MARY GLASS E.
47
'■ Ht)\v do 1 know? All I know is,
that if an idea flits through his head
or heart it can ne\-er collide with con-
science."
" Why?"
" He has no more moral sensibility
than a whirlwind."
"I think it's likely," answered
Martha, in a measured tone. " What
time is it, my love?"
'• Whatever hour you wish, my dear."
A dignified rapping at the door
now led the doctor to take his pill-
box and move out into the darkness
to visit John Levin's mother.
He had no sooner gone than Mary
Glasse came in.
" What, Mary, at midnight ! "
"Yes, at midnight. The hag An-
grelica came to Madam Levin's where
I was at shelter for the night : and
she roused me, and sent me hitlier,
saj-ing that you were anxious to .see
me this very night."
" I am more than anxious, albeit I
did not send for you."
" How is it then?"
' ' I fear that mischief is brewing for
Raymond Footc. Certain vile fel-
lows, with whom he had a quarrel at
sea, as it is told me. have sworn that
he shall never return. And it is pos-
sible that John Levin knows it."
A far-seeing look settled upon the
face of Mary Glasse, and her eyes
kindled and glowed ; but she said
coldly, —
"Is that all?"
"Mary!"
"Martha!"
" Yes, that is all."
"Goodnight."
"Good night."
Before morning Mary had stolen
away Martha's Indian maid M^-ra,
and had joined the dispatch carrier's
e.scort, and followed alter Raymond
F'oote .
CHAI'TKR XXIX.
Chaplain Foote had been captured
by Indians in the night, so that Mary
Glasse did not overtake him when
the dispatch carrier joined the expe-
dition. Little did she think, when
she set out, how far slae might go.
Doctor Jay, Simeon Strait, and
Major Treate were set to the task of
finding their chaplain. So brief were
the hours before the}- would probably
return that ^lary and ]\Iyra lingered,
moving in the wake of the moving
arm}'. And after some days it was
more difhcvilt to go back to the set-
tlements than to go forward. When
they had so far penetrated the som-
bre wilderness as to find the primeval
desolation nowhere disturbed b}- tl:e
pioneer's axe, it was a great delight
to Mary Glasse tliat she, too, was
captured by the Indians.
To the prosaic James Glasse, Mary
had ahvays been a mystery, as if in
her veins there flowed .streams of life
not in his own. With the ready
superstition of the age he believed
that she was more cunning than wise,
that she was subtle not sanctified,
hardly fit to belong to the same
church with him and Elder Perkins.
How was it that since the death of
Mother Glasse the child and father
had drifted apart? Certain it is
that she was as fully in sympathy
with the wilderness of the woods as
he with the howling wa.ste of ocean.
Ever since when as a child she
climbed an oak at the mouth of
Chubb's creek to get out of the way
of the bears, and then paddled to the
Mi.sery to get out of the way of the
Indians, she had desired to live
48
LEGEND OF JOHN LEVIN AND MARY GLASSE.
among wild men. And, despite a
slight tinge of melancholy in her dis-
position, which was not unlike that
of the savage in solitude, she was ex-
uberant at the thought of captivity ;
it being to her not other than a larger
freedom in which she was competent
to care for herself. No sallow and
wailing nun was Mary Glasse ; but
incalculable forces welled up from
within, and the first thought entering
her mind was that she had captured
a band of Indians. Whether she
knew little of the perils, or overestim-
ated her own powers, or was upborne
by faith in help not promised, the
effect was the same ; she knew no
fear.
To launch into unknown spaces,
among forests unscratched b}' the
mill-saw, where the surface of the
earth had been crumpled into low
hills, gave to her the sensation en-
joj^ed by a supple sea-fowl riding and
diving amid gently cresting billows.
The idea of dominance was ever
uppermost in her mind. If she
trusted in God, she trusted also in
instinct and her right arm, to the
forces of man primeval, to perfect
physique never asking odds. No
wild creature was more self-poised
than she. How could she but win
the heart of the brave who captured
her, long after so well known among
the English as the eccentric, fun-
loving, grim savage, Jo Silverheels.
And, before the day was over, she
made with him a plot to rescue Ray-
mond Foote.
Without the tricks of polished so-
ciety Jo was a gentleman ; but on
her part the captive girl was wary of
him as a fox, and as ready to shift
for herself when opportunity might
serve. With no moping spirit Marj'
shared the song and dance and .sober-
faced merriment of the young sav-
ages ; and her nuiscular energ}- and
easy adaptation to Indian life, and
her dignified reserve, gave her the
standing of an Indian belle to whom
deference was due, and such freedom
as pleased her.
And one black night, when aerial
water-tanks were floating and .slowly
dissolving in small incessant rain,
Mary walked awa}' from her captors,
self-reliant as a she-bear, — and as
stealthily as if she expected to cap-
ture Raymond before morning ;
which she did, — thanks to the careful
calculations of Mr. Silverheels.
It was not far to go. Soon after
the dawning of the new day and its
dispersion of the clouds the plash of
a musk-rat was heard ; and the flash
of a bird's wing was seen, a duck
dropping aslant from air to water.
The blue domes of far-off mountains
were uplifting themselves like isles
upon the verge of the western sky,
and the tinted vapors of sunrise were
glorifying the woods, at the mo-
ment when Mary discerned Ray-
mond Foote. He was standing knee
deep in the water fishing for pickerel
in company with that jolly Irishman,
O'Killia, who was now stripped of
that Indian guise in which he had
assisted to capture Raj-mond. Dr.
Jay and Simeon Strait and Wybert
Merry were dressing a deer upon the
bank of the nameless water sheet ; and
a loon w-as laughing loudly in a distant
bay. The radiant azure of the later
morning, and the lustrous leaves of
June, wore fresh color through glad-
ness when Mary Glasse joined the
five whites, — although .she knew that
Silverheels and his warriors would
soon follow.
LEGEND OF JOHN LEVIN AND MARY GLASSE.
49
CHAPTER XXX.
How could everything go on Inxt
much as usual with the placid Ray-
mond, — particularly since the gallant
Major Treate had separated the ras-
cally Banges and Gungill and Symp-
kins from his company, by taking
them upon a scout to ascertain the
whereabouts of the lost army ? And
even Mary's warning tone that sav-
ages were at hand could excite little
alarm in the breasts of those who had
so long lived in peril of such capture.
Much as Raymond Foote desired
to make his home among the Indians
and keep Mary Glasse as his captive,
to which he fancied that she would
not object, .still it seemed more fit-
ting to sensible white people of the
seventeenth century to imitate cer-
tain ancient heroes, who bought and
sold the land occupied b}' their ene-
mies, by proceeding upon the theorj-
that thej' should live to get out of
the woods, and dwell upon the shores
of Chebacco rather than an arm of
Champlain.
Rajmiond's thoughts concerning
Mary could but center upon the
breaking of her relations with Levin,
but the Puritan was so strong within
him that he urged her to decide defi-
niteh' to marrj' the wretch, and to fix
the time as soon as she should return
to the sea-board. Well, however, he
knew that she would never do it, — so
that he was the more complacent in
urging it upon her. The moral an-
tagonisms between Glasse and Levin,
and the moral unisons between
Glasse and Foote, were clearly dis-
cerned by Raymond in the cr3'stal
air of their captivity. And he dis-
cerned afar off the day when Levin,
by some unaccountable freak in one
of his periodical .sprees, would put
himself into such relations with some
low-l)red and vulgar woman that
Mary would be freed 1j\- him from
her pledge to marry. Raymond
heard, therefore, with patience all
that Mary had to say about the
fate which impelled her to befriend
the villain. Xot that the cler2:v-
man thought outright that John
Levin was the wonst of men, but in
his heart he thought ill of him, espe-
cially since his own .spirit had come
into some subtile harmonj' with the
.spirit of Mar)' Glasse.
The weeks rolled by, and the con-
stellations of September looked upon
the captives, fiery Mars and golden
Jupiter ; 
