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Frontispiece — Edward Marshall Messenger i 

The Reward of The Farmer 14 

Oxen and Cart, of The Past 18 

The Bog School House 20 

Burnside Bridge — Antietam 24 

The Bromfield House — Boston 26 

Father and Two Sons — 1903 28 

Winter Camping on the Seboois — 1S75 38 

Round Mountains and Lake — View from Camp 40 

Fly-casting is, The Poetry of Angling — Guy — Ten years old ... 42 

Success of The Veteran . . . . , 46 

Elijah G. Morse 51 

E. M. Messenger and Charley. The Poetry of Gunning 52 

The Sturgeon — "MisheNahma" — Length, 8 feet 64 

The Totems— Wrangel, Alaska 66 

Steamer Queen — Glacier Bay 68 

Tourists on Top the Muir Glacier 70 

Sitka, Alaska — Baronoff Castle on left 72 

The Beehive Geyser in Action 80 

Harbor, Port Antonio, Jamaica — From Titchtield Hotel 90 

Round Mountain Lake Camp — "Ye who love, etc." 100 

The " Heavenly Twins" 104 

The Acadian Willow 108 

Crest of Messenger Coat of Ai-ms 113 





Messenger and Holmes ii 

My Father 12 

My Mother 13 

Mother of Anna and Hattie 14 



Stories of Observation and Impression 


The White Mountains 33 

Chocorua Mountain 35 

Camping in Winter 37 

Round Mountain Lake 41 

Source of the Kennebec 44 

The Showcase 47 

Tarboro, North Carolina 49 

Elijah G. Morse 51 

Charley 52 

Ben 54 

Sandwich, Mass 55 

The Hedgehog 56 

Antietam 58 

Landlocked Salmon 60 

The Northwest 62 




Alaska 66 

Washington 74 

Idaho 75 

Montana 78 

National Park 79 

Homeward 84 

Mesa City, Arizona 85 

Luray Caverns 87 

Jamaica 89 

Round Mountain Lake In September 100 

The "Heavenly Twins" 104 

Evangeline Land 106 

The Story of Jim 109 

Genealogy 115 

Revolutionary Records and Civil War 120 


A book-writer, I am not. Any theme to be treated by 
me must be one in which my nature is in full sympathy 
and in which I have become absorbed. So also of my 
speaking, — I cannot talk unless I know something to tell. 
When fascinated with my subject, a degree of inspiration 
seems to possess me, as in my lectures on Alaska, 
Yellowstone Park and Jamaica, to public audiences a few 
years ago. Readers of this book will kindly overlook 
errors. I have compiled and arranged it with neither 
assistance nor criticism. The labor has been pleasure. I 
have told my stories in my own natural way, also the 
illustrations are from my own camera, with very few 

This book will not be for sale. My object in its com- 
pilation is to preserve and perpetuate in some degree, the 
collection of records in my possession, the genealogy of 
my ancestors, biograj)hical sketches of my father and 
mother, and the autobiography of The Author. On this 
last subject I have accumulated a mass of manuscript, 
written of vacation experiences, of what I have seen and 
love to recall, of which, only a selected list will be used 
in this book. 

The simplicity of my life in youth, only expresses the 

conditions that prevailed at that time in a comparatively 

new country, where was developed strong, healthy boys, 

into vigorous, active men, and I am proud to record the 



facts as I find them stored on the tablets of my memory. 
The wonderful and beautiful creations in nature which 
it has been my privilege to gaze upon during the past 
forty years, have had the effect to continually open up my 
mind to new thoughts and deeper appreciation and 
reverence of the Deity. I have had the opportunity to 
study the })eople of nearly every State and Territory of 
our country, and the adjoining Possessions, compassing a 
latitude of the Arctic, T-emperate and Torrid Zones. I 
have seen every grand and astonishing creation in Nature's 
handiwork of the same area ; Mountains, Rivers, Caverns, 
Canyons, Glaciers, Geysers, Waterfalls, The Wide 
Prairie, and The Unbroken Forest. From the textbook of 
Nature I have studied geology, chemistry and botany, 
animal life, bird life and fish life. In all and everything I 
found Law and Harmony. I found peace and rest and 
new life. I found Love, I found God I I believe God 
is the basis of all life and matter. That the life of every 
individual, of everything that exists, fulfills a purpose as 
designed by The Creator. I believe in The Fatherhood 
of God and the Brotherhood of all Mankind^ and I 
am happy in my conclusions. 

The Author. 
Winchester, Mass., 1911. 



The town of Stoddard, New Hampshire was first settled 
in the year 1768. 

Articles of incorporation were received from King 
George III, in the year 1774. 

Among the early records of that town we find the names 
of Samuel Messenger and George Holmes, they being 
taxpayers in 1800. Both men came to this new town from 
the Colony in and near Boston, Massachusetts. 

In the archives at the State House is found an honorable 
record of service, of both these men, in the War of the 

Soon after their settlement in Stoddard, these men had 
good farms and later became prosperous. 

My father and mother came from these two families, 
Marshall Messenger and Fanny Matson Holmes. They 
were married July 14, 1836. At that time my father was 
a widower, his first wife, Nancy Friend, having been killed 
by lightning, leaving two little girls of five and three years 
of age, Huldah Ann and Harriet Frances, and he bought a 
farm in the west part of the town. The house was pleas- 
antly situated on a southerly slope, giving an extended 
view, with the summit of Monadnock Mountain exactly 
south. The virgin soil, though thin, was rich and always 
produced an abundant harvest. 

A good school was convenient and the farms and houses 


of eight neighbors were in sight of the house. So it was 
in every way an ideal New England homestead ; bright and 
sunny in summer, breezy and cold in winter, but cheerful 
and healthful always. 

In this house was born to them, three sons and one 
daughter, as follows : Freeman Woodbury, George Milan, 
Maria Nancy and Edward Marshall. 


Marshall Messenger was born in Stoddard, N. H., May 
16, 1802. Being the seventh child in a family of ten, his 
opportunities for education were not liberal, nevertheless 
he was a natural student and became an industrious reader 
of books and men, and was especially a student of the 
Bible, who today would class with liberalism. As a 
laborer, he was of that class who are naturally self-support- 
ing ; working cheerfully and constantly with an outlined 
purpose always in view. In the field by daylight, in the 
shop or house at evening, mending the boots and shoes of 
the family, the manufacturer of aU his sleds, carts and 
hayracks, harrows and other farming implements. A 
proper ash stick was cut in the forest, pounded and 
peeled, and of the material the baskets were made and 
chairs were seated. A small birch stick was cut, and 
while the family " cured " apples or other industry during 
evening hours, he would sit with it across his knees and 
pull strand after strand until a good broom was the result 
of his work. All this he said " was not work, it was 
sport " and truly I now reflect, he got many good little 
" naps " while at it. 

He abhored liquor and tobacco in any form, as he also 


did low and profane people, and he never had an enemy 
nor a quarrel. Though of no royal lineage — whoever his 
ancestry or his posterity — my father was a good man ; 
modest, peacf^loving and cheerful at aU times, and a good 

His health was broken and shattered at the age of 
sixty. His boys were all gone from home, so he sold his 
farm he had loved so much, and bought a house at the 
village, where his last years were passed in quiet comfort ; 
leaving us in 1865 at the age of sixty-three years. 


Fanny Matson Holmes was born in Stoddard, N. H., 
September 19, 1805 and was the youngest of a family of 
ten. She was given the advantage of good school oppor- 
tunities and became a popular teacher at an early age, fol- 
lowing the occupation for a dozen years or more with 

For girls of those primitive times, she was possessed of 
unusual accomplishments. Standing high in general 
education, singing in the church of which she was a member, 
and writing a hand equal to an engraved plate, she was a 
girl of whom the town was justly proud. 

At the date of her marriage to my father, she brought 
good executive ability and matured experiences. Taking 
her place in family life as a stepmother to little girls of 
six and four years of age, with the advent of four 
children of their own, that they shoidd all be to each 
other as one happy family, certainly reflects credit on both 
parents and children. My mother studiously taught her 
children industry, neatness and economy. The girls to 


cook, sew and mend, and to practice order and neatness in 
everything — slie being a good housekeeper. She had 
ambition for the education and future welfare of her 
children far beyond her resources of that period. 

Shortly after the death of my father, she sold her home 
in Stoddard and hired a house at Hancock, N. H., near 
her sister Dolly, where at the age of eighty years she had 
become very infirm, and needing such constant care, I 
took her in the spring of 1887 to my home at Bromfield 
House, Boston. With the care given her by two nurses, 
her condition improved and she enjoyed her books and 
friends, passing away in January, 1891, at the great age 
of eighty-five years and four months. 


Nancy Friend was born in Stoddard, N. H., May 6, 
1806, and married my father December 3, 1829. 

The story of the tragic ending of the life of this loved 
and loving young wife and mother, rehearses one of the 
heartbreaking trials to which we mortals are sometimes 

On the morning of a beautiful day in July, the husband 
with his hired man left the family at the breakfast table 
and went to the hayfield in plain sight of the house. 
Toward the middle of the day a few clouds thickened into 
one, from which a flash of lightning streamed and was seen 
to descend on the house. The two men hastily ran to 
ascertain the result. Neighbors also did the same and on 
their arrival, what was the scene before them ? 

The husband with the dead wife in his arms sitting in 
the doorway, with the two little, motherless, sobbing girls 


clinging to either side. Death was instantaneous. God 
had been kind, only, in sparing the mother the conscious- 
ness of leaving her little ones, suddenly bereft of a 
mother's care. 



" Backward ! Turn backward, oh Time, in thy flight, make me a 
boy again, just for tonight." 

I was born in Stoddard, New Hampshire, June 12, 
1841. June is called the month of roses, but I don't 
know as that fact signifies anything in regard to myself or 
ray life. Sometimes the world has looked very rose-colored, 
and at times the color of the faded rose. Sometimes the 
world has seemed a bed of roses for me ; at other intervals 
I have recognized that every rose in the bed had its thorns. 
Mine has been a life not unmixed with sadness and dis- 
appointment, though a life for which I thank God every 

I was the youngest of my father's six — just a boy, with 
a disposition to copy anything in sight, and fortunately my 
surroundings were industry and law and order. The life 
of my youth, though so simple, the activity and occasional 
problems and constant labor of my preparatory and business 
career were such that they may well be termed strenuous. 
At an early age I was given daily duties to perform and 
taught to exercise the responsibility of those duties, and 
from that age to the date of my giving up business, there 
was no interim when I saw the close of a day; but I had 
plans for the morrow. 

I find that my memory has retained incidents that 
occurred when I was about five years of age ; simple, but 


unusual things — a runaway liorse, a visit from my grand- 
mother, an injured sister, a new buggy with shining wheels, 
an adventure with a cross rooster, etc. 

The hand loom and flax wheel were already banished 
from most New England homes, but I lived to see the 
gi'owing crop of flax, the preparation of the product, the 
spinning, and the slow, laborious weaving of the linen web, 
in the family of a neighbor who clung to the good old 
methods and material, and " Aunt Nabby " supplied all the 
boys with " tow " for gun wads. Also in my own home 
I remember a dilapidated loom and various old flax 
wheels which were of special interest to me as playthings 
until ruin overtook them. The spinning wheel for wool 
was yet in every house and the stockings and mittens of 
every family were homemade. 

I remember well my first little dog friend and com- 
panion, " Trip." In my eyes he was perfection. He was 
of the class now known as the " yeller dog," but his tail 
had a curl to envy^ his ears were pointed and stood up- 
right. For every passing team he had a clear bow, wow, 
wow, and for the unruly cow he gave a " yak, yak, " and 
though he did not resemble some beautiful, intelligent 
setters I have since shot over, yet he was my dog and we 
loved each other. 

My toys and playthings were limited until I arrived at an 
age when my own inventive and executive faculties developed. 
At the age of ten years I was making little sleds, carts 
and wagons in imitation of those of my father. The 
outfit of the shop was axes, drawshaves, saws, augurs and 
gimlets, and I was often busy. 

My career as a fisherman began at an early age, with the 


most primitive tackle, the grasshopper and the angleworm. 
An alder " run " on the brook near our house could always 
be relied on for plenty of " worms." The big brown 
birds with a long bill, that often sprung from this cool, 
moist ground and cover — startling us with his strange, 
whistling noise, made us wonder who he was and how he 
made that noise. Some called him a " swamp robin," but 
nobody knew him. So also of another beautiful bird with 
whom we could get but slight acquaintance —although he 
seemed to take interest in us, and often gave my father 
warning of the coming rain by saying, " more wet, more 
wet !" I little guessed the important position those two 
birds would occupy in my future life's pleasures. In those 
boyhood years we knew only our song friends, notably, the 
thrush, the cat bird, the bob'o'link, the robin and the little 
wren, who built her nest in the pocket of our scarecrow in 
the cornfield. 

My school-days commenced as soon as age would permit. 
I was sent to the district school in charge of big sister 
tlattie, and as might be expected, did not like the situation, 
and on getting a breath of liberty at recess, I promply cut 
for home ; the road leading up a long hill. Whereupon, 
the ardent teacher sent Ann Taylor to catch me and bring 
me back. Good, loyal Hattie, fearing for my safety in my 
own little legs, to see that no harm came to me, took up 
the chase with Ann. But they all underrated me, for 
I was running for my liberty and life. I got home ! 

From this age to that of eighteen, the many incidents of 
boyhood cluster on the pages of my memory. The faces of 
companions of school-days and events that attended those 
days, the rivalry in spelling " hard words," the struggle 



for the " head of the class," the clever boy, the rogue. 
The rogues — there were more than one of him, the 
quaint pupil — and the good teacher, never forgetting the 
big boy from the adjoining district who " put on airs," 
and ducked us smaller boys in the snow. He came to grief, 
through the combined attack of two of us, who " downed 
him " and gave him no peace thereafter. Therein are dis- 
covered the full value of the old maxim, " United we stand 
— divided we fall." 

The winters were long ones, snow falling in middle No- 
vember, and during winter the heavy storms would succeed 
each other, until many crossroads were necessarily 
abandoned ; this condition ended only with the passing of 
the snow in March. 

After the closing of the schools, came the winter 
work of the farm, chopping the year's stock of wood, 
breaking the colts and steers, and on the advent of the 
sunny days in March all would go to the Maple orchard, tap 
the trees and be busy for a few weeks making maple sugar. 
This was an important New England industry which kept 
the family pantry supplied with sweetening, at small cost for 
the entire year. The original methods of catching the sap 
in troughs, roughly gouged out with an axe, and boiling it 
down in a row of kettles, hanging against rocks in the 
forest, have been supplanted by modern inventions ; but 
nothing can improve on the old fashion of the sugar party 
of boys and girls with '•' wax on snow," and a ride home 
on the ox-sled, through a New England moonlit forest. 

Of the gun, my first possession was an old flintlock 
"queensarm " — of doubtful bore — but later the family 
became the glad owner of a small and good gun, with 


which I acquired a degree of proficiency in capturing the 
most inquisitive of the noble ruffed grouse. 

At the age of eighteen all my schooling had been the 
results of the good old " Bog School." Brothers and 
sisters were all engaged from home, my ambition to follow 
them was increasing, and I was in a general condition of 
unrest. My father made many overtures to me to stay 
with him in his failing health and inherit the good farm 
he had worked so hard to develop, but decided to send me 
to the fall term of the Valley Seminary at Westmoreland. 
I went. It was a new life. I came in contact with a fine 
set of students and conditions of strict discipline, and the 
term was beneficial. Of the teachers. Rev. S. H. 
McCollester, E. A. Kemp, M. D., and many of the 
students, I formed a close and lifelong friendship. 

I went home and soon received an offer to teach a school 
in the " Morse district " in the town of Westminster, 
Vermont. This was unexpected, but having no other plan 
for the winter, I gladly accepted my first opportunity to 
earn money " on my own hook." It was a small school of 
two dozen pupils — the teacher to " board around " in the 
good old-fashioned social way, and although it called out 
the exercise of new thoughts and faculties, it was for 
me a homelike and pleasing study among the typical New 
England families, and at the close was voted a suc- 

At an early age I had a well developed desire to 
" learn a trade " and while waiting for an opening, [ took 
an agency for the sale of Colton's Atlas by subscription. 
In this I discovered one of the best " schools " a young 
man can attend to show him the possibilities of human 


nature — rub loose his tongue, if tied — and teach him to 
curb it, if too free. Valuable education. 

1 next hired as apprentice to N. B. Harrington, marble 
worker, Keene, N. H., for three years. I had a good home 
and enjoyed my work. During the first year I became 
capable of laying out and finishing marble, drafting and 
cutting an inscription, and had carved a few buds and 
flowers. I was enjoying Keene very much, but alas, and 
alack, in 18(52 the Civil War had developed into startling 
proportions. A call was made for three hundred thousand 
men, and after a few days, stiU another three hundred 
thousand more. 

I enlisted August 8, 1862, Co. I, 9th Reg. N. H. Vols., 
Col. Fellows, Lieut.-Col. Titus, Capt. John Babbitt. 
Mustered in August 14, at Concord, N. H. Sent to 
Washington, D. C, August 25-27, in the common box 
cars. Our seats were boards placed on boxes and blocks/ 
Arriving at Washington at evening, after three days on 
the road, we were suffered to lay on the ground and plat- 
form of the B. & O. depot till next morning ! August 
28 marched through the city over Long Bridge to Arlington 
Heights — our first camp. Many of the boys were so 
loaded with knapsacks that sunstroke and prostration was 

Here we had our initial experience on picket duty and 
building earthworks, and on the night of the second Bull 
Eun defeat, we lay on our arms all night, expecting orders. 
The next day our retreating army came straggling in the 
utmost disorder toward Washington. 

The victorious Confederates, not realizing their advan 
tage, turned West and crossed Chain Bridge into Mary- 


land. We now had orders to make a forced march into 
Maryland to join the Army of the Potomac. My old 
memorandum says — marched through Georgetown, Lees- 
boro, Mechanics vi lie, Leighfcouville, Kemptown, New- 
market and Frederic City and camped on the night of 
Sept. 13, near Middletown. 

On the morning of Sept. 14, 1862, as we kicked our 
stiffened limbs loose at daylight, an occasional shell was 
dropped among us, from the elevations of the South 
Mountain. We were soon ordered forward, across the 
plain, and as we approached the base of the mountain, the 
order came to leave there the rest of our worldly goods, 
retaining only our guns and cartridge belts. I knew what 
that meant, for the shells now were dropping thickly among 
us, and the wounded were passing back from higher 
up the hill. 

We were deployed into proper line for a charge, — the 
order came. We charged up the rough sides of the 
mountain, keeping in line the best we could. Bullets cut 
the brush and glanced from the rocks. Shells burst in 
the air or crashed through the trees, and on occasions, 
plowed the earth and covered us with it. We came to a 
high waU — we scaled it — finding ourselves in an open 
field. Imagine our surprise at seeing two lines of boys 
in blue across the field, lying flat on the ground, waiting 
for reinforcement, — they dared go no further — but 
" forward " was our order. We jumped over these men 
and crossed the field. Coming to another big wall of 
cobble stone, we climbed that in a hailstorm of bullets 
from the Confederates in plain sight among the trees. 
Here we opened our fire, stood our ground without 


flinching, and the enemy broke gradually back into the 
forest. We had gained a foothold on the summit. After 
this we were all day deployed in skirmishing line, getting 
an occasional volley from their rear guard and pickets, 
during which we had several badly wounded, but the 
Confederates were making down the mountain, and on the 
morning of the 15th were well on towards Antietam. 

Detachments were left to bury the dead, of which we 
saw some sickening sights, and our brigade moved down 
the mountain through Turner's Gap. 

This Monday morning, Sept. 15, we had but a half 
ration of hardtack — no blankets — and as foraging was 
entirely out of the question, most of us continued with 
nothing whatever to eat until the morning of the 17th — 
forty-eight hours 1 On the night of the 16th, we camped 
east of Antietam Creek, back from Burnside Bridge, and 
knew the Confederates had made another stand and were 
giving battle. The morning of the 17th, we, on account 
of our starved condition, were not ordered in line till 
about ten a. m. Coming out from behind the bluff that 
had sheltered our men from the enemy's artillery, the 
crack of rifles greeted our ears. Crossing the highway and 
an open field, our brigade took up position on the east 
bank of the Creek, a short distance below the bridge, to 
assist in the charge on the bridge. Our only protection 
was in lying flat on the ground behind a rail fence. Here, 
from the high bluff of the opposite bank, came the rebel 
bullets with remarkable precision — only a little too high — 
cutting the slivers from the rails and lifting a little puff 
of dust where they spitefully buried themselves in the 
loose, dry earth behind us. Our boys commenced shooting 


wildly. I remember seeing bullets strike the opposite bank 
among- the trees. Instinctively I scanned the skyline of 
the bluff among the trees and had taken several shots at 
moving objects. I was now watching a big tree from behind 
which I had seen movements. He appeared again, and 
as I quickly raised the rifle to my face and lifted on 
one knee to shoot, I was conscious of a stinging blow — a 
shock — no more. I was shot. When next, I realized 
my own identity, I felt someone, as if kicking or striking 
me, — I opened my eyes. I lay on some loose straw under 
the porch of a farm house, in line with eight or ten other 
men, all of which were considered past recovery. The 
one that had disturbed me was dying. It was past noon 
of the 18th, twenty -four hours since I was shot. I had 
been struck by a bullet over the right eye, crushing the 
skull and coming out in front of the right ear. The eye 
was blind ; also half the left thumb was carried away. 
Some thought it was quite possible that both wounds 
had been made by the same bullet. I soon brightened and 
began to look for N. H. V. boys. I called a soldier, he 
brought the surgeon who was much surprised at seeing me 
so lively. He cleaned my head and sewed up my thumb, 
which was very ragged and sore. I gained strength 
rapidly and in a few days was out in the adjoining fields, 
and one day was much surprised to see my brother come 
in the house as I sat on the porch. My brother went to 
the regiment in Pleasant Valley where the boys were in 
camp. They all supposed me dead, giving me the honor 
of being the first man killed in Co. I. A furlough 
of thirty days was secured and I arrived home. On the 
trip home and whenever seen, I was looked upon as one 


whose escape from instant death was miraculous. Improper 
care or neglect had imperilled the remaining portion of my 
thumb, which after reaching home was easily saved, but 
the loss of eyesight was irretrievable. Ten long months 
elapsed before the wounds were healed. 

In the spring of 1863 my condition was such that I gave 
up my position at Keene, and went to Boston to find a 
situation. It was a strange and big city, and I found 
but two familiar faces in it. I worked in a restaurant 
at 33-35 Sudbury street for a few weeks, then went with 
a Capt. Giltnan to take charge of his dining room in 
a private hotel for boarding army officers at 92 Penn. 
avenue, Washington, D. C. This was not a desirable 
climate for me, but I now enjoy the recollection of the 
dust and mud of the old-time Washington as compared 
with the present beautiful artistic city. While here I 
had the offer of a lieutenant's commission if I would re- 
enlist, but in September I returned to Boston and secured 
work on Congress street which I held until the following 

I was lodging at the home of John Town, who was 
a native of Stoddard. He had a small grocery store at 
49 Leverett street. With the encouragement from 
" Uncle " John, I bought out the store to gratify my 
ambition to do business for myself. I had never before 
weighed and done up a pound of goods of any kind, nor 
made change over a counter in my life, but I worked 
industriously, made a little money and many friends. 

An event occurring a few months later was of importance. 
I had formed acquaintance at the Seminary in 1859 with 
Martha W. Leach and our devotion to each other had 


continued, and now once on the road to a business career, 
my desire for a home led me to wish for a consummation 
of ray youthful love, which resulted in our marriage in 
November, 1864. We were a happy couple. Our hearts 
were full of hope in the apparently bright future — and 
innocence and ignorance of the uncertainty of life, and 
through the immutable laws of God and Nature. That cup 
of bliss was soon dashed from my lips. Less than a year 
had passed and the first born, our dear boy Edward, 
was given to our care. And at the end of two weeks more 
I followed the lifeless form of the young mother to its 
resting place in Westmoreland. The effect of this crushing 
blow bore heavily on me for many years. Previous to this 
event I had sold out my store on Leverett street and was 
now in company with my brother in a restaurant at 
Scollay's Building, but we sold that out in the spring 
following, and in May, 1866, located at 65 Bromfield 
street. This we remodelled — the first floor into a dining 
room with a seating capacity of seventy-five chairs, with 
a kitchen in the basement. The locality was first-class 
and success rewarded our efforts for four years, when at 
the sale of the estate we bought it, through assistance 
of my friend, H. L. Lawrence. Popularity was now 
with us and with encouragement by J. Parker Lawrence, 
we put in new furnishings and fixtures throughout and 
named it Bromfield House. 

From a business standpoint, the period of the next 
six years was productive of events that received some 
merited criticism. Messenger Bros, resorted to the Court 
of Insolvency in 1875 and at the suggestion of creditors, 
the firm was dissolved and the business put in my hands in 



May, 1876, just ten years from the date of our first 
opening on Bromfield street. 

My courage now returned to me and I instituted many 
economies in the management. 

I applied myself to the work with old-time tenacity, 
and was rewarded by finding satisfactory results. I 
continued to carry on this business with unexpected success, 
and with the happiest associations, from 1876 to 1894. 
My house and tables were crowded with a select class of 
local patrons, and from a wide circle of country, and 
they became like old friends, and it was with reluctance 
that I concluded to withdraw from my old business home. 
But such business demanded my constant personal attention, 
which I gave it, although I had instituted and followed a 
system of vacations with gun and rod, which had served 
to keep me in excellent health. Vacations of travel that 
stored my mind with much that will always be food for 
reflection while life lasts. 

I confess it had been an ambition since the days of early 
manhood to acquire a competency that would insure my 
protection against a struggle in old age. I had now suc- 
ceeded beyond my dreams in this worldly aspiration, but 
there was still another — and perhaps more commendable 
— that was yet unrealized. I had for many years planned 
and looked forward to the enjoyment of an ideal home. A 
wife and family with surroundings of a social life, and the 
crowning pleasure and comfort was inaugurated on Sept. 
16, 1892, when I was married to Mary (Proctor) Marshall. 
To assist in the development of unity, God gave us our 
sweet little boy Guy, on July 26, 1893. His loving hands 
and voice filled our house with light and our hearts with 


love for each other, and our daily prayer is that we may 
all be continued in the blessings of health. 

Preparatory to this event, we had made a selection of 
land in the town of Winchester, where we built a house and 
stable to suit our fancy, and moved into it May 3, 1893. 

This home we have enjoyed to the full, and since Guy 
was three years old, have made a traveller of him ; taking 
him with us to the lakes of Maine and New Hampshire, 
to the various points of interest in the South, and a sailor's 
trip to Jamaica. 

Since the above was written in 1900, a decade has 
passed, during which we have continued our yearly outings, 
though for certain reasons our trips have been more 
frequent and of shorter distances. Of my boys, the " boy " 
Edward has reached middle age ; found his level in the 
business world of Boston, and as an optician, has built 
up a trade of flattering dimensions. He was married in 
January, 1893. A wife of high-class character and 
qualifications, a woman who reflects credit on the grand 
New England pioneer race of settlers, through which she 
comes to us. They have a daughter, of sixteen years, 
of splendid promise, and a vigorous son of seven years, 
in whom we see the nucleus for strength and fineness of 

My "boy" Guy is now seventeen years of age; has 
inclination toward all that is good, and has no habits that 
invite reproof. He is now a pupil at Phillips Andover 
Academy, and I now have implicit confidence that he soon 
will have passed the critical age of the young man, 


and will immediately be found a citizen fulfilling all 
my Lopes and prayers. 

I have all these great blessings and many others to 
cheer and comfort me, and I have sometimes fancied that 
the character of my past life has been such, that I have 
earned the fulfilment of my desire to pass my last years 
in a peaceful and happy surrounding. But time works 
great changes, and those changes sometimes develop 
unexpected and unfortunate results, and new and unlooked- 
for conditions appear in one's path that call tor renewed 
vigilance and forbearance. So may we now hope on, hope 
ever, and trust in Divine guidance for our greatest good. 







" From the Forests and the Prairies, 

Fkom the Great Lakes of the Northland, 

F!<oM the Mountains, Moors and Fenlands." 




From early boyhood, I always harbored a strong desire to 
travel and see the country. I had read much of the great 
West. I recall the name and face of the first man I ever 
saw that had been in California. Contact with him fired 
me with determination to see that State. So also of the 
South, and the desire to see the country had an influence in 
my action to enlist as a soldier in the Civil war. But after 
leaving home, I laid aside the impossible, and studiously de- 
voted myself to the various work in which I was engaged. 
In those days the vacation as a custom for the employee 
was unheard of, and after my advent to the business men's 
circle, I was no more liberal towards myself, for my feeble 
prospects needed constant attention. 

My first vacation was that which should and does appeal 
especially to the native of New Hampshire — a view of that 
interesting and world-known cluster — the White Mountains. 

My travelling companion was Clarence Tilden, formerly 
of Keene, N. H. A picture I still possess, which was taken 
at the Flume, tells the story of " the boys," with our natty 
suits, canes and tall, white kersey hats — we were then up-to- 
date tourists. 

We went the route of the Glen House carriage road to the 

summit of Mt. Washington, slept in the " Tip Top House," 

awakening to witness in the morning a beautiful sunrise, — 

out over a sea of clouds that filled the valleys beneath us — 



with the peaks of the Presidential Range standing like 
islands in the broad expanse of ocean-cloud about us. It 
was a thrilling sight. Then down the railroad to the base 
where we took in all the sights, of the Notch, the Willey 
Hoase, the " Old Man of the Mountain " and the Flume — 
since bereft of its main glory and attraction, the big 

We had a grand time. It is a trip I have thrice taken 
since, and when there I always feel I would enjoy a yearly 



We had listened to tales of Mt. Chocorua ; its steep and 
rocky sides, so difficult of ascent, its cone-like summit, topped 
off with boulder on boulder, outrivalling the Tower of Babel, 
its wild and beautiful scenery, standing as it does like an 
outpost or picket guard on the border of the world-renowned 
White Mt. Cluster, its deep caverns, its ravines, where grow 
the luscious blueberry on which the black bear fares sump- 
tuously every day in September. Ah I the Bear ! He is the 
meat for which we hunger ! We will go to Mt. Chocorua 
and a bearl 

Like all such landmarks, Chocorua has a history in con- 
nection with the early settlement of the country and the 
dislodgment of the Indians. It took its name from the 
fact that a chief by the name of Chocorua had his home and 
hunting grounds here, and after committing frequent acts of 
depredation and cruelty on the white settlers, he was driven 
to the fastnesses of the mountain, pursued to the summit, 
where having the alternative to leap from the precipice or 
face the guns of the exterminators, he chose the latter. 
What ! Chocorua turn his back to his foe and leap into 
ignoble and certain death ? No, never ! His breast was 
bared, his eye looked down with scorn and defiance on the 
pale faces ; their rifles echo the death-knell, and Chocorua 
is ushered into the presence of the Great Spirit. 

As I crouched beneath some overhanging cliff or stealthi- 




ly climbed from ci-ag to crag, peering over into the ravine 
beneath, the dim grey of the morning was slowly fading 
away before the rising sun and revealed to me my^ com- 
panions on other distant " spurs," employed like myself, 
watching for bear. Then did I picture before me how poor 
Chocorua was traced to his stronghold and watched for with 
deadly intent, even as we were watching for old bruin. How 
with savage instinct and cunning he eluded his pursuers by 
hiding in ravine or behind boulder until he was driven to 
the overhanging peak above me where he paid the penalty. 


Of my winter experiences in camping in the Maine 
forest, I have many pleasant memories, and have said — Let 
no man assume to know the sports of " Down East " until 
he has made his home in a lumberman's camp in winter. 
Of several I have known the ideal was found in 1875 in a 
camp of primitive character. Built of logs, roofed with 
splits, and a thick coating of boughs on top, all now covered 
deep with snow. Inside, a big fireplace occupied one corner, 
with no chimney, but a smoke hole in the roof. The 
" cookee " coidd be found in an annex in the rear. But the 
chief essential to your comfort and pleasure lay in the 
character of the crew. They were of the native Maine men, 
than whom no more desirable camping companions can be 
found. Educated woodsmen, log-drivers and guides, — in- 
genious, resourceful and responsive. The twenty men lay 
on one long bunk under long, thick blankets. They gave 
us the warm corner — yes, and the warm corner of their 

Every night games and stories of adventures left no spaces 
between scenes, even at times you would find yourself listen- 
ing to three stories from as many sources, and truly many 
thrilling yarns there were, of narrow escapes and experi- 
ences, and morning, noon and evening when the cook shouts 
'■'•Bean on the taVe " / no man fails to answer with alacrity, 
for there are odors of beans fresh steaming from the " bean 
holes," pigsfeet stew, beef and plumduff. It was good snow- 


shoeing. The days were occupied shooting partridges, a 
mink, a lynx, a deer, and catching trout through the ice 
thirty inches thick. Other trips in the country drained by 
the tributaries of St. Croix and Androscoggin in later 
years were fraught with constant delights. 


Many interesting things are written in the book of nature's 
wilds. It was a bright, sunny day in December, nearly noon. 
The snowshoes drew noiselessly along as 1 skirted a ridge 
and approached the top of a " cut-bank," or low cliff in the 
forest. From under the cliff a deer suddenly leaped into 
view ; before he reached cover, two shots from my Win. 
Chester rang sharply out in quick succession. The deer had 
been lying down under the bluff' in the sun, his bed was the 
hard snow. I examined as to his manner of occupying and 
leaving his bed. Evidently he lay with his legs squarely 
under him, in position like a " Jack in the Box," so that 
when alarm came he sprang immediately from the bed, 
landing ten feet out the first leap. In doing this he made 
no footmarks except two light outlines of the forefeet 
where the knees had previously rested, and two very deep 
gouges in the snow, made by the hind feet when they pro- 
pelled the body forward. Protection on his part well 
planned and executed with success perhaps many times be- 
fore ; but alas this new and unlooked-for method of attack 
with man's invention he could not escape. 

The Canada lynx always prowls by night for food, where 
the ruffed grouse and the little rabbit are plentiful. The 
lynx dines royally. His track in the snow, sometimes mis- 


taken for that of the panther, is round in shape and very 
large. Here is one, lately made this early morning ; it 
leads along through sheltered places where the ruiTed grouse 
select quarters for the night. As last night was a cold one, 
and the new snow deep and light, the beautiful bird dove 
down in the snow for a warm bed. The lynx knows that, 
too. His tracks follow along at the foot of a ridge among 
the hemlocks ; here his course is erratic, and there the sur- 
face of the snow is disturbed and broken. In a cavity in 
the snow are three bright pretty feathers and nearby are a 
few more drifting about. The track is continued towards a 
mound, perhaps a big rock or knoll under the snow. There 
on top of the knoll we find a wreath of feathers begrimed 
with blood, disarranged in a confused circle in the centre of 
which are a few bones and two feet — all that is left of a 
beautiful bird. 

Another track leads out to the swamp, across a small 
pt>nd. This the little rabbit made going out last night to 
make a call on his cousins in the ravine. Follow his long 
easy leaps so even, and regular as a machine could make 
them, each foot taking its proper place in relation to the 
others, each foot making the same deep impression in the 
soft snow as the last, he has got half way across, but what ! 
now no more tracks ? As if a magician's wand had swept 
across this mantle of pure white and caused this harmless 
and defenceless life to disappear ! Examine close, the last 
three jumps show increased effort and speed and this last 
track is indented deeper than the others, — on each side of 
it in the snow is the sweeping impression of the wings of 
the great barred owl 1 


The story continued and ended high up in the hollow of 
some grand old tree, where a family of owlets were congre- 
gated and awaiting a, feast of warm jlesh ; hut little " hunny'^ 
made no more tracks. 


Of the waters of Maine, the Dead River Country is the 
Mecca of all fly fishermen. About twelve miles from Eustis, 
Maine, lays a gem of a lake one and a half miles long. Its 
southern and western border is formed by five round moun- 
tains in a semicircle. Their coneshaped summits are look- 
ing down into the mirror of its waters and also to a row of 
log-cabins on its sloping eastern shore. In scenic surround- 
ings this little lake is not surpassed by any other in the 
State of Maine. These mountains have suggested the name 
Eound Mountain to this lake, and the watershed of their 
eastern slopes together with the abundant springs at their 
base supply a deep and cool home for the brook trout, which 
are of a quality the first in choice of the epicure, their 
flesh being a deep red in color and of the richest flavor, 
far excelling those of many other waters. 

The location and conditions create a charm that is lasting 
and I have been drawn to this spot more years than all 
other locations in the state, always receiving in return for 
my efforts health, strength, pure water and the menu of 
brook trout three times every day. To the true lover of 
nature the plodding through the forest on a marked trail, 
or better, depending on the sun or his compass for his lo- 
cations is the greatest pleasure of a vacation in the forest. 

" Nesmuck " a quaint writer of some note twenty-five 
years ago, author of " Woodcraft," a work of much merit and 
based on practical experiences of his own in the forest, dwelt 


at some length in one article on, "The art of sitting on a 
log/' No man of experience could differ with his theories 
and advice given, for on reflection, we note the fact that in 
the wilderness it is the man who is quite alone that sees the 
many surprising and interesting things of the wild animals 
whose eyes, ears and nose are constantly on guard for the 
safety of their owner, while the hmnan voice is the truest 
warning to the wild creatures and they who carelessly stroll 
along the pathless forest, snapping the dry twigs, rustling 
the dead leaves and the while keeping up a rambling conver- 
sation, are quite unaware of the numberless denizens of 
their own home who quietly step aside unseen and allow the 
human enemy to pass by in ignorance of the presence of 
wild life. So it is, the lone fisherman, studious and watch- 
ful, catches the fish and the skilful still hunter is a party 
to many surprises. 

In a recent year, since deer have become too numerous to 
excite remark, I strolled one day on the side of a mountain 
to enjoy God's Temples, in their full and perfect quietude, 
now watching the home life of a pair of bluejays, now 
searching the high branches for a glimpse of the author of 
those soft notes, and saw the rosebreast and his mate, 
then dropping my eyes to sweep the ground for discoveries. 
And what may be that black object, partially hidden in 
a tree brush ? A burned stump ! No ! It moves ! 
Soon it turns, and the broadside of a big black bear is 
clearly outlined only seventy yards distant. He rises erect 
like a man and pulls down some coveted green shrub, then 
investigates a rotting stump, and next pulls the bark from 
a decayed log, quietly and industriously moving about 
unconscious of my presence, even as our domestic animals 

PS " 

H £ 

O ^ 



do in their home enclosure, while I followed and closely 
watched his natural habits of life until he became swallowed 
up in a more dense thicket. 


In the names of the waters of Maine there is much 
confusion. In Moosehead we have the plain English 
without a rival, but as we approach the Rangeleys " the 
plot thickens " and Rangeley, Richai-dson and Andros- 
coggin all mean the same. The Schoodics may mean the 
" big " of the southeast or the "little" of the central. 
Here and there we have clusters of " First," " Second " 
and " Third," etc. Still again as the Seven Ponds, and 
yet another bunch that all go in as The Chain. Big Lake, 
found in several localities ; Grand Lake, in as many ; Mud 
Pond, Beaver Pond and Trout Pond in all parts of the 
State; but " what's in a name?" Though Maine has been 
in the past wantonly profligate with her natural endowment, 
yet she is still possessed of the richest supply of food fish 
and game of any known equal area in the world. 

Few people are aware of the vast extent of the Maine 
forest or the character of the primitive country in which 
are situated the sources of her grand river systems. In 
the deep dark recesses of the primeval forest, where man 
seldom wanders, but where wild life roams at will through 
lovely canyons and valleys shut in by beautiful mountains, 
I stopped to quench my thirst. This bubbling crystal 
water bursting from the base of overhanging cliffs lifts the 
loose gravel and clears from a small area the mould of 
falling leaf and bark, then slowly makes its way down the 
gentle slope soon augmented by others of a like origin and 


character. In this little source and stream there is no 
evidence of future greatness nor usefulness beyond the 
evident fact that not only birds and squirrels come here to 
cool their throbbing throats and bathe their feet, but in 
mid-summer, when the deer are spending the day in the 
cool breeze among the maples on the mountains, they also 
find this a most convenient retreat. 

Taking a southerly course this little stream soon enters 
a valley winding through at the base of the mountain. 
In this valley grows in great profusion the Alder, so 
common in all New England States, and this fact has 
suggested the name, " Alderstream " for this rivulet. 
Further along in its course these accumulated waters are 
united with others and form the well known Dead River, 
which flows peacefully along until it outgrows its character- 
istic name and at the " Forks " it becomes absorbed by 
the Kennebec, one of the grand and beautiful rivers 
of Maine, discharging its abundant waters into the 

Thus here, in this bubbling spring, we discover one of 
the principal sources of that noble river. For years 
unnumbered, Alderstream has been quietly gurgling its 
soft tunes in the dry season, or under the stress of melting 
snows and heavy rainfalls of the springtime, is suddenly 
found transformed into a raging torrent, every year digging 
deeper and deeper among the boulders that appear in its 
path until a wild canyon or gorge renders it impossible 
for the lumberman to utilize and degrade to the base use 
of driving logs. At one picturesque point, Alderstream 
Falls with its numerous terraces, pools, falls and cascades, 
for a distance of a mile, confined to its bed by walls of 


granite a hundred feet high, gives one a study of surpassing 
beauty and geological interest. 

But here again it has been left to modern science and 
ingenuity to outwit nature. The power of this foaming 
cataract has been harnessed, a road opened through the 
forest to deep water, this road equipped with an electric 
wire, and through the long winters of the lumberman's 
activity, train after train of sleds piled high and wide with 
logs are now seen steadily moving behind a little motor 
on the road to the deep river below. 


The large exhibitiou showcase I had in the window of 
the Bromfield House for twenty-five years, always had a 
variety of live fish to attract the attention of the public, 
also giving me instruction and pleasure in various ways. 

Many interesting things were revealed to me through 
that " case." In it I have watched the progress of hatching 
and growth of the trout, salmon and hornpouts. The 
playful antics of the grayling, perch, pickerel and many 
others. The cannibalistic nature of many species of large 
fish and also the hard-fought battles between fish of equal 
size. Studied the disputed question among anglers of 
" how the trout takes the fly," witnessed the peculiar 
habits of hibernating of the frog, as well also his process of 
transformation from the " pollywog." Also I saw the 
protection given by the mother hornpout to her eggs and 
nest, and later on the watchful care over her young brood. 
This last is intensely interesting and is paralleled only by 
the maternal conduct of the mother hen towards her 
chickens. It should be added, the male is loyal to his 
mate and joins her in guarding the nest and defending 
the brood against all comers. In one instance, a pout of a 
half-pound, struck his horn so deep in the side of a two- 
pound bass, as to require my assistance in getting clear. 

In it also I have proved the possibility of suspended 
animation by freezing, by restoring to life on various 


occasions, pickerel, hornpouts and the saltwater smelts 
which had been frozen. In many instances the fish being 
taken from the marketman's basket, after being caught the 
previous day, were brought back to their original active 
state of existence. 

The questions sometimes asked by people, whose simple 
interest in the finny tribe was far exceeded by their 
unconscious ignorance, was at times quite startling. Where 
and how in this enlightened age could a man of sixty years 
and gray hair, have spent his life who would stand half an 
hour watching the quiet occupants of the showcase, then 
turn to me and ask : " How often do the fishes come to the 
surface to breathe ?" "I have stood here just half an hour 
and not one has come up yet !" 



Sixteen miles off the Coast Line R. JR., a branch road 
takes you to the happy, peaceful-looking city of Tarboro. 
This portion of the state is not only of high agricultural 
value, but is interesting in many characteristics. Much 
wealth was once here, for it is situated in the best of the 
cotton belt of the South, and this country of the Tar 
River is not only of good soil, but is endowed with 
innumerable springs of excellent water, which flow so 
copiously that a system of canals and ditches for drainage 
are constructed all over the county of Edgecomb. This 
fact is all the more remarkable when we consider that 
though this section is seventy-five miles from the Atlantic, 
it wa? at some remote period covered with the salt water, 
and seashell deposits, called marl, is being dug up by the 
landowner to be used as a fertilizer. 

In this delightful climate exempt from snow and ice, 
having plenty of protection in tree and shrub growth, with 
food and water in abundance, it is here that the quail 
and woodcock find their natural habitat. 

The first of my visits to this place was in the month of 
February, 1880. I was in the field with two companions, 
who had good dogs, for twenty-three days of the month of 
February. With perfect suns aud frosts every day, this 
was the happiest of shooting combinations. 

Birds were plenty and strong of wing to challenge the 


skill of the gunners. An average of about ten coveys of 
quail a day were flushed and quite a few woodcock, and 
surely three men never enjoyed more in one month's time. 
The native people witli whom we came in contact were 
cordial and courteous and we made many friendships which 
were lasting and renewed each succeeding year of our 
numerous visits. 

1* «- 










Elijah was my partner in many a well-hunted field and 
cover. Elijah was a partner of the right stamp ; responsive? 
resourceful and ready to speak or act as if by intuition. A 
man whose companionship and counsel were factors of value. 
A true, manly man ; six feet tall and a tireless worker. 
An inveterate lover of the gun, and the best shot in thick 
cover I ever knew. Through any and all hardship, defeat 
or disappointment such as will surely come from dogs, or 
men, or birds, or guns, or weather — he never was known to 
growl, but goes at it again next day in a mood of enthu- 
siasm ; moving forward cheerfully at all times. Clustered 
around and intertwined with the memory of this man, is a 
shooting trip for chicken and duck in Minnesota, Dakota 
and Iowa, in the fall of 1882 ; and innumerable trips for 
quail, grouse and snipe over Massachusetts, Connecticut and 
New Hampshire, during a period of fifteen years. In our 
ideas and our work, we always moved in unison, and a strong 
bond of fellowship and brotherly love was woven between us, 
which continued firm and true as long as he lived. 



Charley was much In evidence in uiy sports and vacations 
for the entire decade of the 80s. He was of Laverack stock, 
an English strain ; weighed sixty pounds, all bone and 
muscle ; deep chested, strong back, strong leg, webbed foot 
with pads like a rubber boot heel. He had a beautiful win- 
ning face with deep black intelligent eyes. A coal black 
blanket covered his back, neck and head ; white nose, 
breast, legs and tail. A soft fine coat, ears like silk, and a 
leg well feathei'ed. 

He could strike the most approved gallop and keep it up 
all day, all the week, all the month. He never came to 
heel without ordered ; was the most constant worker I ever 
followed or ever saw. His action, though so rapid ; his 
nose was so fine and infallible, that he never Hushed wild 
nor made false " points." He understood his work in the 
field, and his "points" were an artistic pose, beautiful to 
look upon/ With these qualities combined with the 
superior intelligence in his endowment, he was capable of 
finding more birds in a day than many another. 

Many incidents of his exhibition of intellect and reason- 
ing powers are stored in my memory, of which many pages 
could be written, and it was with sadness I saw him grow- 
ing old. 

As fishing with the fly is truly termed the poetry of ang- 
ling, so also it must be said, the poetry of shooting is found 
by the man who holds a gun over a good dog. It is not 

The Poetry of Gunnin";. 


found simply in the wing-shooting,— there must be a good 
dog ; there must be a good gun ; and too, if the man is not 
a good one, he will make no poetry but a sort of a "blank" 


Elijah's "setter" was named "Ben." Ben was not as 
handsome a setter as Charley, but at his work he was in the 
first class, true and staunch on his '"points." Is reason among 
the attributes of a dog? I have seen Ben, when two birds 
were down, go to "fetch." He picked up the first one and 
when half way to his master he saw the other, which was 
only " winged," rimning to thick cover to get away. Ben 
laid down his dead bird and hastily ran and caught the 
cripple, brought it to his master, then went back to fetch 
the dead bird. Intelligence, reasoning and memory of 
previous experiences. 

And as at Canton, Mass., one evening Ben and Charley 
whipped all the big Newfoundlands and bulldogs in town. 
They evidently had a concerted plan how to do it. Charley 
always faced the attacking "party" and boldly met the first 
"clineh ; " then Ben with extreme ferocity would instantly 
attack the adversary in the rear ; utterly demoralize him, 
and he was soon sent howling around the corner. Our dogs 
would then return to us, smiling and ready for the next 



Nathaniel Hoxie lived at Spring Hill, a small villiage in 
the town of Sandwich, Mass. "Uncle Nat," was once a sea 
captain, as all old Cape Codders can claim. Uncle Nat was 
a farmer, carrying on a little farm and a big cranberry bog. 
His wife, Elvina, was of the good old New England stock 
and whoever came to their home was made to feel it was 
their own. 

Their little cottage was my home when on the Cape for 
many years and that cottage with its happy occupants, is 
now prominent among the pleasant memories of my past life. 
Here, escaped from the city's jostling and bustling streets, I 
came many times, to drink health and pleasure from the 
peaceful, restful atmosphere and surroundings. Sometimes 
appreciative companions were invited to join me in this 
elysium and share in the pleasure. 

Here we had the deer hunts with varying success, but 
never forgetting the big buck of 250 pounds. The shore 
birds, the ruffed grouse, and always the quail, that artful 
and skilful dodger ; that handsome bird of feathered life j 
that most royal bird for the epicure. Here we found him 
in abundant numbers, in the most inviting of nature's pro- 
tecting covers, grown fat and strong of wing in the frosts 
and suns of a New England autumn. 



The fall shooting was being pursued the same old stero- 
typed way, with Charley and my new " Hammerless Scott" 
gun, on the various familiar grounds ; scoring partridge, 
quail, woodcock, and snipe. The results were always right 
for these were days when Charley and I were at our best. 

One day in New Hampshire the "tables were badly 
turned" on us by the hedgehog. I saw one in a tree, I 
should have passed it, but knowing the mischief they had 
done in corn near by, and knowing my control over Charley 
I shot it. We passed on, and soon after, as he was ranging 
in thick ferns, he suddenly halted and growled. I sprang 
toward him ordering him back, but at my approach the 
hedgehog turned to run, and there being a little misunder- 
standing on Charley's part, he jumped on the animal as he 
had before done with a woodchuck. He discovered his 
mistake and came to me howling piteously ; holding up his 
mouth filled with quills. My despair amounted to distress. 
I laid him down — got on my knees beside him and pulled 
out quill after quill ; talking to him as I would to a man. 
As each quill came out, he gave a shudder and a whine. The 
poison soon got in its work, so the poor dog's jaws were 
dripping with froth. My fingers grew slippery and I failed 
to draw the quills from the hard gristle of his nose, but 
broke off six or eight of them too short to pull. They were 
in deep and no doubt very painful, I sighed for a pair of 
nippers, two miles away. I turned Charley on his back, 



took his nose in my mouth and guided by my tongue, I 
took each stub in my teeth and extracted them one by one. 
He gave a squeal at each pull, but made no attempt to 
bite me or clear himself from my holding. They were all 



It was now twenty-five year9 since the date of my war 
experience and I had many times promised myself to visit 
that battlefield where I was wounded. 

On Dec. 17, I arrived at Sharpsburg. After making 
some inquiries as to general directions, I took a long tramp. 
With little difficulty I identified the farmhouse where I 
found myself when conciousness returned to me, and later 
on, the exact locality where I was engaged when shot, was 
established beyond doubt. I had the satisfaction of seeing 
the original Burnside Bridge with its scarred and battered 
face, also many of the old rail fences about which so many 
good boys lost their lives, near the Dunkard Church and 
Bloody Lane where the hurricane of battle swept to and fro 
for the fourth time, in '''■charging''^ and " losing'''' a coveted 
position ; finally it was held by the boys in blue. 

A visit to the grounds enabled me to dispel that strange 
color of fiction that had begun to gather around my remem- 
brance of the participation in this great battle, and establish 
its realistic character. Also assist me to feel it true ; that 
on this ten-mile field, in a battle between intelligent and 
courageous soldiers, who would neither retreat nor surrender ; 
during the one day, Sept. 17, 1862, there were more men 
killed and wounded than any other one day in the history of 
modern warfare. 

Again in 1900, I visited this historic ground and was 


gratified to find the many new monuments that had been 
erected, marking the position of various State troops which 
were engaged in the contest. But the development of fine 
roads, had necessitated the obliteration of much that was 
realistic of the old days. 

It was especially gratifying to see the fine memorial 
dedicated on Decoration Day, 1900, by the State of Maryland 
to her sons, both the "blue" and the "gray." The general 
inscription reads '•'■Erected by State of Maryland in 
memorial of her sons, who gave their lives in defence of 
their principles^ This memorial stands opposite Dnnkard 
Church, on the coveted high ridge so many times won and 
lost by each army, and is first of its character to be erected 
on Southern soil. All honor to Maryland. 


""Way down east" as we skirt along the shore of Maine 
near the jumping-off place, we come to the discharge of the 
waters of the St. Croix. 

This is not a name among the list of mellow or poetic 
ones, nor is it a stream so beautiful as the Penobscot ; and 
as we ascend the river, leaving behind us the evidence of 
the fabulous tides of the Bay of Fundy, we may conclude 
that among the principal uses of the stream, it is a dividing 
line between two great nations. But we are meeting with 
the waters that have been gathered by the great receiving 
basins of the Grand, the Big, the Schoodics and hundreds 
of smaller lakes and streams unnumbered. 

Up this river, seeking these upper waters for a spawn- 
ing ground, the salmon once swarmed yearly, and through 
some unknown conditions and influences, became landlocked 
and remained satisfied with a fresh water home ; growing to 
a size limited by the food supply and conditions un- 

I made trips to this interesting and wild country in the 
two successive years of 1889 and 1890 and enjoyed the 
sport in the new experiences. 

The salmon of four to five pounds each, were taken by 
trolling on the surface and in most cases a line of three 
hundred feet was required to accomodate the fish in their 
mad runs and jumps in the air, during the half hour or 
more required to kill them. It was, at times, very exhilar- 


ating sport, and though they are a fine table variety, yet 

unwittingly I missed the conditions associated with trout 

fishing. I also tired of sitting in a birch canoe, for in this 

section of Maine, and this only, is the birch exclusively used. 

On account of the extreme heat one day, I landed and 

strolled back in the forest to high ground where it was cool. 

I heard a noise in the dry leaves and brush some distance 

away and stealthily approached towards it. It was a big noise, 

but I soon saw it was only one of Hiawatha's companions, 

a big red squirrel. He was coming towards me on the 

ground. He soon got so near me that my figure looked strange 

and unnatural to him and he halted and eyed me curiously, 

and cut up antics I had never before witnessed in these 

little creatures. Finally all doubt and suspicion seemed cast 

aside, for with two or three leaps he landed on my leg 

above the knee. Then I was sadly lacking in the amiable 

nature of our ideal Hiawatha, and my shout might have 

increased his sensation of surprise and terror, for there was 

then exhibited the most astonishing feats of somersaults, 

barking and scampering to get under the nearest dead log. 

"Up the oak tree close behind him. 

Sprang the squirrel, 'Adjidaumo,' 

In and out among the branches." 

— Hiawatha. 


Itinerary— April 30 to Aug. 22, 1891. 

Chicago, Omaha, Kansas City, Beloit, Kansas ; Denver, 
Pocatello, Shoshone, Portland Ore., Willamette Valley, 
Clackamas river, Taooma, Seattle, Alaska, The Columbia, 
Palouse Valley, Spokane, Coeur d'Alenes, St. Jo. River, 
Montana. Flathead Valley, Helena, Yellowstone Park, 
Beaver Canyon, Pocatello, The middle west — home. 

At this date I had come to realize a broadening of my 
mind in relation to our own country. Our New England 
states were all dear to me, through a large circle of good 
friends and vacation associations. Es})ecially of Maine, 
New Hampshire and Massachusetts, would I claim citizen- 
ship and proprietary interest. With the entire South, West, 
and Middle West, I have enjoyed sufficient contact to gen- 
erate a feeling of familiarity with the country and a love and 
fellowship for the people. I no longer looked upon any 
part of our country as distant. To pack my travelling box 
and take a ticket for Alaska, was less nerve disturbing than 
was my first trip to Boston, when a young man. Having 
heard much of our great Northwest, its Yellowstone Park 
with its mysteries, — our new Alaska with its wonderful 
conditions in nature ; I fully realized I had much to see and 
learn, and with anticipation born of my past experiences, I 
left home and business to make a tour of these localities. 

My trip across the country was quite a duplicate of that 
of 1887 as far as Denver. From Denver a side trip to 



Colorado Springs and Pike's Peak gave me new scenes, and 
after leaving this city, west, it was all a new and strange 
country to me. The route of the Oregon Short line, 
through Cheyenne, Wyo., passing the monument erected 
to Oaks Ames at Sherman, who has the popular credit 
of fatherhood to the Union Pacific R. R., Laramie, Pocatello 
and Shoshone. 

The falls of the Shoshone are two hundred and ten feet high 
and very impressive. Boise City, Baker City, Huntington, 
and a long steamboat ride down the wonderful Columbia 
river. Where did all its volume of waters come from ? 
What a country it must drain, to continue such an unin- 
terrupted flow all these years. Now I begin to realize the 
magnitude of the river system of this country. 

I arrived at Portland, Ore., May 22. Oregon has a 
variety of climate and soil. Some cereals will flourish and 
produce abundantly in one section, while only fifty miles 
away they cannot be grown. The early settlers along the 
lower rivers once had extensive apple orchards, at a date 
when California wovdd pay thirty dollars a barrel for the fruit. 

For agricultural purposes, the valley of the Willamette 
river is of the most importance and value. 

Steamboats ply between Portland and Oregon City, a 
distance of sixteen miles. Here, at the beautiful Falls of 
the Willamette, is the head of navigation and a water power 
of immense value. Here we took the big salmon, and found 
entertainment watching those fine fish in their efforts to 
leap the falls. From here I took a team thirty miles up the 
Clackamas, that wild river. This brought me into the 
beauties of the Cascade Range and an appropriate name it 
is for these mountains. 


Here the heavy fall of moisture in these high altitudes, 
and the deep snows of winter, produce innumerable cascades 
and falls through wild and impassable canyons and chasms, 
extending over thousands of square miles of space ; 
making this one of the picturesque sections of our 

At this one locality the Clackamas runs in the bottom of 
a deep canyon for nearly thirty miles and can be approached 
only in two or three places. 

One settler near the river, told me he had lived there six 
years and had never seen it. The trail we took led us down 
over cliffs and under cliffs for a mile, and I could never 
have got out alone, nor could I climb out without a rope. 
Four of us staid there a week. Found some pools full of 
big salmon, and cascades and falls, in romantic and wonder- 
ful surroundings. But as we could get but a limited 
distance up or down the stream, I soon tired of the same- 
ness of things and broke camp. 

Here in Oregon we set lines and took the big sturgeon of 
the Willamette. A stout line is attached to a strong green 
sprout on the bank of the river, that will give play like a 
rod in the hands of a man. The other end of this line is 
fastened to a heavy anchor and cast across in midstream. 
Droppers of four feet in length, having hooks baited with 
half an eel, are suspended from this main line so they will 
hang near the bottom. When a sturgeon is hooked, he must 
be allowed to tire himself. If a large one, it will take a 
couple of days before he can be handled. Our biggest one 
caught, measured eight feet in length and weighed per- 
haps two hundred pounds. 

This might be called fishing, but truly it is not sport. 


" On the white sand of the bottom, 
Lay the monster, ' Mishe Nahma,' 
Lay the Sturgeon, King of Fishes." 

— Hiawatha. 
From Oregon I travelled north to Tacoma, Washington. 
This was a rare and fascinating country aU the way. Thia 
gave rae strikingly wonderful views of those great mountains, 
capped with perpetual snow — Mt. Baker and Mt. Hood. 


I went on board the Steamship Queen in the harbor of 
Tacoma, on the evening of June 6, 1891. The Queen is a 
propeller of the regular ocean build ; has accommodations 
for two hundred people, and her length of four hundred and 
twenty feet gave ample promenade decks, about which a few 
turns would give a mile walk for the passengers, at any 
time of lonesomeness. The cuisine was first-class. 

In the lottery of staterooms, I was fortunate, getting a 
two-berth room with a Tacoma man on the upper deck, 
where we could see the panorama of the shore at all times 
as we passed. 

Touching Seattle three hours — Port Townsend one hour 
— and now our family of travelers are all on board. A 
good jolly party of two hundred, who are soon acquainted 
as friends, though they came from many states. 

There is a monotony of wild scenery about Puget Sound, 
and up the channel for the first day's travel, broken only by 
the lofty Olympic range on the west, and a sameness of the 
dark foliage all the way. The general route lays like a river 
along the main shore, walled in from the ocean view by 
constantly occurring islands, so there is immunity from the 
dreaded seasickness of an ocean voyage. 

At no point is there much well defined shore. With the 

exception of an occasional narrow margin, the rock foothills 

rise abruptly from the water's edge, covered with a clinging 

forest growth of small trees, many of which are dead or 



dying for lack of nourishing soil. This monotony is fre- 
quently broken by the many beautiful cascades that burst 
out among the cliffs with the waters from the higher moun- 
tain ranges in the interior, and come tumbling down from 
various elevations in a fantastic manner. 

After stopping at Victoria, B. C, a bright and growing 
city, no other landing is effected till we reach Fort Wrangle 
at midday, June 10. Wrangle was once an important town 
as a trading post with the native tribes, but since other 
and greater interests have developed at other points now 
Wrangle is in decay. Still, here the tourist finds the many 
specimens of the totems and other native conditions. 

A few hours after leaving Wrangle, we saw our first 
glacier — the Patterson. And on June 11, at 5 a. m. we 
awoke to find ourselves in Taku inlet, and near the foot 
of the glacier of that name. The Taku pours its volume 
of ice into the inlet in like manner with the great Muir and 
is a miniature of it. Here the ship took in a supply of ice, 
without money and without price. This was to all on board 
like an introduction into a fairyland. After laying here 
three hours we are soon in view of, and, landing at Juneau, 
the principal headquarters for miner's outfitting supplies 
and near the native trail over the mountains to the Klondike 

Extending back of Juneau five miles is a road 
leading to some rich mines, and at this date, 1891, this is 
the only road and the only place in Alaska, where horses 
are owned and in service. 

We shipped across the bay and examined the great 
Treadwell gold mine with its stamp mill, the largest ever 
built — and the noisiest. 


Two hours after leaving Juneau, we came in sight of the 
great Davidson glacier, a dead glacier, that has discharged 
no icebergs for many years. The terminal moraine is 
bearing a forest of trees of many years' growth. There are 
said to be many glaciers of this class in Alaska. All this 
adds proof of the greater abundance of snowfall, at a period 
far remote. 

Nearly opposite on this Lynn Canal, is the town of 
Chilcat, a salmon canning town, also noted for the beauty of 
the blankets manufactured by the natives. This is the most 
northerly point reached by the excursion steamers, and here 
about ten p. m., I secured a photo of the sun. 

The sun set before eleven o'clock p. m., but all night a 
twilight is in evidence, and daybreak appears between one 
and two o'clock a. m. 

On the morning of June 13, we awoke to find our ship 
slowly making its way through the drift ice and floating 
icebergs up Glacier Bay, and at 8 a. m., we anchor in front 
of that gem of Alaska and the world. 


We eagerly took to the boats and were landed on the west 
side of the bay, which is by far the most interesting and 
instructive. We spent the day examining all surroundings 
of the shore and adjacent mountains — the moraine deposits 
— the submerged forest — the wide, deep cre\ices of the 
surface of the glacier, and traveled up the glacier several 
miles. The sky was cloudless, the temperature fine as any 
June in Massachusetts. 

Few people are aware of the high rank taken by Alaska 
among the wonderful, natural conditions of the world. Its 
glaciers are as astonishing as they are unique. Nowhere 


else in the world have we a combination of conditions that 
can produce such a glacier as the Muir. At the point of 
discharge, the estimated thickness of the ice is eight hundred 
feet. Its length is about a hundred miles, and it is a hydra- 
headed monster, being fed from all directions. It comes 
down through the mountains like a great river ; like a river 
of ice that it is. Its bed, the bottom of a canyon hemmed 
in by the almost perpendicular walls of high mountains 
loaded with ice and snow. 

Of the Ocean Currents of the world, the Japanese 
Current is the most prominent in character, and the condi- 
tions resulting from its action. It is the basis of the 
extensive field of Alaskan Glaciers. 

This current, eminating from the western coast of the 
Pacific ocean, around Japan and tropic waters, takes a well- 
defined course northwest, in line with Alaska ; carrying 
along above its surfa(;e a volume of warm-air current, 
heavily laden with moisture. Nearly central in its path is 
the town of Sitka, whose climate is thereby softened to an 
average with that of Washington, D. C. 

The snowfall in each locality is about equal. Sitka has 
by actual measurement an annual rainfall of about one 
hundred inches, the precipitation occurring on three hundred 
days of the 365 a year. 

One can stand in the streets of Sitka in a rain storm and 
witness the same cloud, frozen to snow and sleet immediately 
it reaches the nearby high elevations, which border the 
interior. Thus we must estimate an annual snowfall of 
approximately seventy-five feet on the mountains. 

For ten months of the year these mountains are receiving 
this mantle of snow, and for the next two months that snow 


is receiving the rain and warmth of midsummer, and day 
after day, the avalanche echoes through the mountains, as 
the great areas of softened snow shoot down into the can- 
yons with a force that transforms it into solid ice ; adding 
its bulk and weight to that already there, pressing down- 
ward and forward until it reaches the sea level at Glacier 
Bay, where it is forced through a gateway between two 
momitains of solid rock, only one mile apart. In discharg- 
ing through this narrow space — though the ice is eight 
hundred feet thick — it is crushed and broken into com- 
paratively small icebergs. 

Not alone is this true of the Muir. This section of 
hundreds of square miles of volcanic elevation in Alaska, 
which lays in the path of that phenomenon — the Japanese 
Current — is receivingyearly this same great downpour of mois- 
ture, and glaciers are formed everywhere in the mountains ; 
some to seek the sea like the Muir ; others to fill and remain 
melting in the valleys at unknown depths. 

Though the glaciers fascinated me most, yet there is more 
to be learned of this seat of intense and constant volcanic 
activity. We have recently become aware of the fact that 
Alaska contains the grandest theatre of volcanic agitation in 
the world. Seventy-five volcanoes on the mainland are well 
known and about twenty-five on the islands, some of which 
seemingly quiet for a hundred years have again broken out 
in the last decade. The island and volcano of Bogoslov 
arose from the ocean in a single night, a powerful volcano, 
while at the same hours, another island a few miles away 
sank out of sight. This was witnessed by a Russian trader 
who was stationed on the island of Urnak. 

I arrived at Sitka, June 14. Through a mutual friend 


it was my good fortune to be armed with a letter of intro- 
duction to Lieut. Schwatka of the U. S. survey stationed 
here, and through it I also came in acquaintance with Prof, and 
Mrs. Hayden of the U. S. service. The courtesies shown 
me by these good people while in Sitka, was not only 
socially gratifying, but was also the source of much informa- 
tion not easily obtained by an excursionist. An evening 
visit at Mr. Grady's private house, where I feasted my eyes 
on the finest collection of native curios of the Alaskans in 
existence ; genuine articles once in daily use hundreds of 
years ago by the "Shaman" and the "Siwash." Here we 
could read the past history of this peculiar race, who differ 
so widely from any other on this continent, in their ideas of 
the Yaka or Deity. Here I learned of the Shaman, about 
whom a cloud of mystery and superstition forever rests in 
the mind of the native. Here I saw specimens of his 
hideous headgear, waistbands and moccasins, all garnished 
with strange bones, scalps and masks, as he arrays himself 
when he called to visit the sick. Physical sickness is under- 
stood by them , not a disease, but a visitation of an evil 
spirit, and must be annihilated. 

Their habits of superstition and witchcraft have prevailed 
to such an alarming extent in the past, that there has been 
no increase in their population. 

Their definition of the totem is not of a religious, but of 
a historical character, like the paintings on the robes of the 
native of our prairies. 

Here stood the Baronoff Castle, the residence of the 
former Russian governors, slowly falling to decay, from the 
roof of which I took a fine birdseye view of the town ; and 
here also of picturesque appearance is the old Greek Church 


in which we had the novel privilege of witnessing the 
marriage of a Russian and an Aleut native. 

Here, too, we visited the schools where the natives are 
being taught the English language and English customs. 

The signal whistle for "all on board" ended our explora- 
tion and commenced our return homeward. 

Passing through Peril Straits, our pilot made a little 
mistake and we found our big ship resting easily on a 
sand bar — with an ebb tide. 

Being assured safety, and that we could not proceed till 8 
p. m., many passengers landed and had the freedom of a 
long narrow beach. I was delighted. I picked up many 
curious things in this wild place. I climbed up the steep 
sides of the mountain in the dry bed of a stream ; through 
and under fallen trees and scrub. A mile up I came to a 
plateau of meadow and marsh and a pond of water. Back 
of these arose again the perpendicular face of the mountain. 
I was alone. I wandered about this opening for hours, 
gathering my hands full of lovely flowers — with no names — 
and chased the wild geese from their secluded home. 

I failed in my attempt to return to the ship by some 
other route. The forest growth here, like all the coast, 
being very scrubby, with a tangled mass of small growth 
and fallen dead wood ; under, through and over all that a 
carpet of moss a foot thick, everywhere, even covering the 
trunks of standing trees, giving the forest interior a weird 
appearance. Once again returned to the shore I was hailed 
with delight and surprise at the sight of my floral display, 
and the ladies and gentlemen who enthusiastically started 
for my late field of discovery, soon returned in dismay at 
the prospect, and accepted a distribution of my flowers. 


Once again afloat towards the states. The intermittent 
sunshine and showers nearly all day entertained the 
passengers with the grandest display of rainbows I ever saw. 
Their brilliancy was something I never before witnessed 
and in numbers I am certain there was more than I ever 
saw before in all my life. 

Our stop at Nanimo was for coal, the deposits of which 
are here of great extent and the only hrst-class coal yet 
discovered on this coast. 

Touching Victoria, passengers are landed who desire, 
and the others continue on to Tacoma. 


From Tacoma, I returned to Oregon. Left Portland, 
July 1, on Steamer Lurline, down the Willamette an hour, 
then up the Columbia. Up river, the first interesting 
things are Rooster Rock and Castle Rock. Both are 
immense solid columns, rising high above the flat meadow of 
the river bottom. Cape Horn is aperpendicular wall of rock 
forming the bank of the river for the distance of over a 
mile, the steamer safely passing closely to it. 

As we near the Cascades, where we were to disembark 
and take a train, a notice of a burned bridge ahead forbids 
the program, so the steamer returns us to Portland. There 
we took the train for Hood River, where at 3 a. m., we were 
transferred in "bull carts" to a steamer that took us to The 
Dalles, then train to Pendleton, Starbuck, the Palouse 
Valley to Spokane. 

This Palouse Valley is a valuable wheat growing country, 
which with the Great Bend country, also given to wheat, 
are the two principal areas of agricultural development in 
the state of Washington. 

Spokane at this date is a hothouse plant, most of the 
inhabitants, after laying out the streets, over a radius of 
ten miles, seem waiting for it to grow, but the water power 
of Spokane Falls is the nucleus around which many more 
industries are certain to establish and become permanent in 
the future. 



A side trip to CcEur d'Alene by rail, a team to Hayden 
Lake brought me to the forest camp of Ferdinand J. 
Philipp. Philipp was a Prussian by birth, and proved to 
be every inch a square man. I was fortunate to get his 
companionship, which I enjoyed. He was highly educated, 
and spoke seven languages fluently. He wrote an engraver's 
hand in style and in speaking or writing he expressed himself 
like a diplomat. He abhors society ; had served ten 
years in our regular army, from which he was recently 
honorably discharged as Quartermaster-Sergeant. Such a 
man with his partner "Bill," a good cook, were my camp 
companions for two weeks. 

This part of Idaho is quite mountainous and in the dis- 
trict of valuable mines. 

Hayden Lake seven miles long, though very narrow, had 
once been a chosen spot for the Indians to make their 
autumn deer drive for their winter's suppl}^ of meat. 
Hundreds of natives form a crescent on the hills, to gradu- 
ally close in and force the enclosed deer into the water. 
From the opposite shore, in canoes, other Indians dart out 
and kill the deer with knife or club, tow him to the shore 
where the skinning and dressing is going on by the squaws. 
The meat cut in strips — laid out on improvised racks of 
poles — will not rot in the climate of these high altitudes, 
but quickly dry for future use. Three hundred and fifty 



deer have been killed in this way by one camp of Indians 
in a few weeks time. 

I visited the mines on the Coeur d'Alene river and the 
new towns of Wallace and Burke, then we went up the St. 
Jo. river, which also empties into the Coeur d'Alene Lake. 
Leaving the steamboat at Farrel's hay farm and head of 
navigation, we put our camp outfit into a thirty-foot canoe 
and poled up the rapid water for several miles. The wide 
meadow of the lower river had here narrowed into a canyon. 

The hills were wooded on the northerly slopes, but almost 
treeless on the south. It is a beautiful country and I look 
back upon the upper St. Jo. as the most fascinating and 
lovely stream on which I ever cast a fly. Its pure, clear 
waters flowing over a rocky, pebbly bed, varying in width 
from a hundred to two hundred feet, intersected with deep 
pools, make an ideal spawning ground and home for the 
lovely rainbow trout that are found here. This rainbow 
trout is as fine on the table as his eastern cousin, as hand- 
Borae in its outline form and a worthy competitor as to 
beautiful coloring. The Artist Creator gave rich tints to 
the back, then as if in haste dipped his brush in red and 
gold and dashed a wide stripe along both the sides from gill 
cover to caudal fin. On the St. Jo, he is a beauty ! 

I have that river associated with one of the "star per- 
formances" of my experiences with the rod. 

Striking a fine fellow, who took out considerable line, I 
soon realized a fresh attack and discovered another trout on 
the second fly. And soon as the mad rushes had again 
become partially subdued, still another reinforcement 
arrived and was hooked on the third fly. Now I gave thanks 
there were no more flies on the leader. 

IDAHO. 77 

The first two trout encouraged by the activity of the 
third, renewed their efforts to free themselves and it called 
out all my skill and strength to give and take the slack, 
till finally I had them aloui;- side and soon all three in the 
net. An angler knows how difficult the feat, and also how 
handsome the sight. One of three and a quarter, two of a 
pound each, on one cast. 

This was also a deer and bear country, we got all the deer 
needed for camp use ; but though we tried hard for a bear, 
saw signs at all points and saw several bears in the distance, 
yet they were more cunning and elusive than the deer. 

We camped on the St. Joe two weeks, and the experiences 
are memorable ones. 

Coeur d'Alene is a mining centre ; though one sees in a 
short stay here but little of the possibilities of such a town. 
Stopping at the hotel on my way in and again out, I got to 
feel acquainted with the landlord. 

He was a man of splendid physique, tall and muscular, 
weighing two hundred pounds, was very quiet and modest in 
demeanor. Philipp wished me to see Mr. Bancroft's police 
club, " the peacemaker " he called it, and pulled it from 
behind " the bar." It was a round oak sapling, three feet 
six inches long — just big enough to grasp — and showed 
marks of service. Philipp has seen him when the boys got 
" too full " and began to shoot, walk the floor with it in his 
most persuasive style and bring order out of chaos. 


Moving east on tlie Northern Pacific, my next stop was 
Raralli, Montana. This town is on the Flathead Indian 
reservation, and is of course owned and run by that tribe, of 
which some half-breeds are capable men. The Allard 
brothers, world-known as the owners of a herd of wild 
buffalo, run a stage from this point to the foot of Flathead 
Lake, about thirty-five miles, a gem of a prairie all the 
distance. On the stage I passed through several native 
villages and saw many strange things. 

Arrived at the lake, I took steamer for Demarsville, at 
the head, a thirty-five mile sail. 

Three miles north by wagon 1 came to Kalispel. A new 
town, three months old, yet was already endowed with a 
good hotel, a bank, and one nice cottage house. The rest 
of the settlement comprised the original board shanties. 

This town was laid out by the Great Northern R. R., 
which was then camped at this point, building west. 

This valley is no doubt one of the finest and richest for 
agriculture in the state and has an immediate future in 
grovd;h and wealth in prospect. 



Livingston, Montana, Aug 5. I was up this morning at 
an early hour preparatory for an early start for the Park. 
An incident occurred which goes to prove that " the unex- 
pected does sometimes happen." 

I asked the morning clerk of the hotel for a dark room 
in which I could transfer my exposed film for a fresh one 
in my camera. He kindly gave me a key to the house- 
keeper's linen closet. 

Entering, I locked the door on the inside and commenced 
operations by lighting my colored lantern. 

Had removed the roll from the holder and opened the 
fresh film. As I commenced the adjustment of the same, a 
key was inserted on the outside of the door, and my key 
dropped to the floor. Of course I sprang to the door to 
prevent the admission of the light on my work. It was the 
housekeeper ! 

Through the crack of the door I started an explanation — 
she heard nothing — but saw a man's face. She had no 
doubt been looking for a man — under the bed — everywhere 
— anywhere except in her linen closet where no man dared 
to step — I was a burglar ! And she insanely gave the 
alarm. No fireman's call was ever responded to with 
greater alacrity. I could hear the babel of voices — what is 
it ? Where is he ? Shoot him I — but the clerk after 
wards told me there was a grand exhibition of suddenly 
awakened ladies and gentlemen in the corridors, it was not 


my privilege to see. I locked and held the door and ignored 
the beseiging party till at last the only friend I had in the 
house, the clerk, relieved me. 

In the attempt to briefly delineate or make comment on 
a trip through Yellowstone Park, I fully realize a sense of 
inability. Of the Upper Geyser Basin, the greatest centre 
of activity, it may be said ; here is a canyon three miles 
long and a mile and one-half wide, filled with "the forma- 
tion" on which stand some twenty active geysers. The 
Castle, Giant, Giantess, Grotto, Beehive, Old Faithful and 
Oblong and others, making a bewildering and interesting 

The wonderful and seemingly mysterious eruptions of 
these geysers can be enumerated in figures as to the number 
of feet the water is elevated by each one ; the number of 
minutes duration and the periodical occurrence of their 

These facts have been arrived at and published to the world. 
We know that one geyser gives you that exhibition every 
hour as ti^ue as the clock, seventy-five feet high and lasting 
ten minutes — Old Faithful. While nearby another joins in 
the display, exactly every six hours ; two hundred feet high 
and ten minutes duration of the deluge — the Beehive. While 
yet another as near, rests quietly just six days and always 
gives notice some twenty-four hours before the deluge takes 
place — The Giant. When we know that of the three 
thousand springs and geysers in the Park, no two, though 
they may be close neighbors, are of the same habits, tem- 
perature nor characteristics ; then we come to enquire what 
are the conditions and power underlying all this surprising 
condition in nature ? 



When one comes to a forest of standing trees of various 
sizes and heights and find the trunks and limbs have become 
petrified and are solid stone showing the grain and growth 
of the natural wood ; then must we ask, what agency in 
Nature could produce such a result ? 

When we climb a mountain and stand under great over- 
hanging cliffs of beautiful opaque glass, we breathe the 
question, what Workman has been here? 

To read in a book of a canyon ten miles long and from 
eight hundred to twelve hundred feet deep, would excite but 
slight emotion in the mind of the average traveller, but let 
him stand on the brink of the Grand Canyon of the Yellow- 
stone and gaze on the evidences of internal heat that once 
burned these criimbling walls to ashes ; note the extended 
seams or layers of brick red — others of pink — others of 
grey — and various dark colors — here the white of the lime 
— there the yellow of pure sulphur — and below, with the 
confusion of falling and crushing, a mixture of all shades 
and colors is the result. 

No less interesting are the beautiful formations of the 
Mammoth Hot Springs ; the result of overflow and evaporar 
tion of those heavily impregnated waters. 

These, with their rich shades of color like the Grand 
Canyon, are indeed beyond the skill of an artist. 

These accumulations, the lower section of which are now 
dried up, fill a valley or canyon for a length of three miles ; 
at the terraces, being perhaps two hundred feet deep. Evi- 
dences are also here seen to prove that these springs were 
once powerful geysers. 

Minor objects of interest are the Grand Falls of the 
Yellowstone, the Golden Gate, the Towers and the Tower 


Falls, Gardiner Canyon, Virginia Cascade and Devil's To- 
boggan Slide. 

While at the lower geyser basin I heard extravagant 
remarks about " The Firehole ; " that it lay a mile or two 
back in the foothills ; that a trail led to it from near the 
hotel. I had the afternoon before me and found a trail that 
impressed me ; soon there were two and three to choose from. 
I took choice and tramped ambitiously until I came out of 
the forest into an open plateau. Mountains were before me, 
geysers and pools about me, and in the distance the Big 
Fountain Geyser was in violent action. All this sight was 
ample to repay for my tramp, but of the Firehole I was 
Ignorant. Turning towards home I met a tourist and 
guide who were on my mission. The guide examined a 
shallow pool near me and we discovered in several places at 
the bottom where gas was escaping in steady jets up into 
the water, displacing the water, thereby giving that partic- 
ular spot a flame-shaped white looking space like air bubbles. 
It should be easily understood in this land of gases, but my 
tourist friend ; perhaps so imbued with the unnatural 
character of all the Park conditions, frantically called out, 
" That's fire, sir!" " That's fire, sir!" His guide winking at 
me said : " Well it looks like it, don't it?" "Yes, sir ! it is 
fire ! " " Now I have found out what makes all this water 
hot!" And later I overheard him telling friends of his 
discovery and would "show them tomorrow." 

The big game, buffalo, elk and antelope, have always 
found shelter, food and drink the year around, in and about 
the mountains and canyons of the Park, and today we find 
deep, trodden paths or trails aU over this country where 
especially in spring and fall, they have crossed from one 


point where there was food, to another for drink, and to the 
shelter of the forest. In my long strolls I kept these trails 
and on one occasion I experienced a sense of lonesoineness. 
I had followed up the canyon of Tower Creek, which was 
grown thick with vines and brush, to the Falls, to get a 
picture from below. And on returning out I followed my 
own lately made tracks along a sandy space by the creek. 
Imagine my consternation at seeing stamped in the centre 
of my footprints, the big round tracks of a mountain lion, 
who, as it is their habit, was then following me. Years ago 
I had studied up the character of that animal to some extent 
and accepted the available evidence and classed him as 
" comparatively harmless," as it was said "he never attacks 
man unless pressed by great hunger." Now with the 
animal at a distance that looks easy and nice, but I was 
seven miles from camp — alone in a thick jungle — and 
no doubt his eyes were then on me. I instantly recalled 
what had been said in the beast's favor, but with it came 
the conviction that he might he very hungry ! 

At other times I met badgers, foxes, etc., and a skunk — 
the rascal ! he stood in the trail and laughed to see me climb 
and fall over logs to get past him ! 


August 17. Arrived at Butte, Montana, that world- 
renowned mining camp of 25,000 inhabitants. From this 
point the Utah, Nor. R. R. takes us south to Pocatello. 

En route I had a view of these grand mountains, the Three 
Tetons. From Pocatello east, I am on the homeward line. 
These names and villages I saw four months ago and now 
seem familiar. 

Nebraska is now clothed with her mantle of corn. We 
travel hour after hour — forty miles an hour — corn on the 
right and corn on the left ! 

August 21. Chicago, Michigan and New York state all 
growing crops abundant. What a wonderful country is 
ours ! At last I feel we have crossed the line and I can see 
the soil of Massachusetts. 

As the train winds along through the Berkshire hills and 
crosses the grand old Connecticut river, I reflect that we 
have the beautiful in nature and happy conditions in life 
everywhere ; in the far West and we have it in the East. 

This was a travel of long duration and long distances. 
My eyes had feasted on so many new and strange conditions 
that I came home with a sense of fullness and longed for an 
opportunity to digest that which I had acquired. 



In Jan. 1887, on a southern trip, I left the S. P. R. R. 
at Maricopa. This is a no-rain country. Forty-five miles 
due north, by wagon, brought me to Mesa City, which is a 
thriving town. Here a system of irrigating canals have 
been constructed, good crops are raised, good dwellings 
built, most of which are built of adobe brick, except the roof 
of lumber, while newer towns of emigrants build temporary 
tents of upright posts and the spaces hung with gunnysack 
cloth. The weather here is never cold and it never rains. 

The Mesa plain or prairie is an elevated plateau of 
twenty miles diameter, the name Mesa meaning bench in 
in the Spanish language. This prairie is covered with a 
thick growth of chapparel and mosquito wood, long since 
dead and still standing. This proving conclusively that 
part of the country was not the desert it is today, but that 
many years ago sufficient rains fell during some consecu- 
tive years, to cause a luxurious growth to spring up. At 
the present time this dry wood serves as firewood for all 
comers, and a shelter for the wolves and coyotes wliich met 
me at every opening. 

Like all improved parts of Arizona, this agricultural town 
is fed through canals with water taken from the Salt River, 
and here I saw where had been discovered and utilized an 
old canal built very many years ago. Whether Aztec or 
some other people surely history and legend leaves us much 
in doubt. 



Also near here I saw a village of the ancient " Mound- 
builders." Ruins of immense structures ; large buildings 
four hundred feet long, surrounded by many small houses, 
all enclosed by one great circular wall. All these had been 
constructed with adobe brick and the ruins were distinguish- 
able at a great distance on the prairie. 

These mounds found at various points in that country 
have since been excavated, and many interesting relics dis- 
covered of that numerous people. Also, in the mountains 
the "cliff-dwellers" made their homes, evidently with the 
idea of defence from the attack of wandering tribes. 


The Luray Caverns in Virginia are one of Nature's most 
important records. They establish beyond question the 
phenomenal great age of this continent. 

Many thousands of years must have been necessary for 
their development. Here we see an excavation made by the 
agency of water carrying the fine soil from under extensive 
tables of rock out into some lower level, thus forming empty 
spaces or rooms. Then follows the process of slow trickling 
of water heavily impregnated with lime, down through this 
upper strata into these rooms. Evaporation takes place and 
thus carries on the formation of strange forms of stalactite 
and stalagmite. In these dark and damp chambers the 
process of growth must necessarily have been very slow. 
Though less extensive than some other caverns, these beauti- 
ful formations of lime surpass any others known to the 

It has been my pleasure to have explored this wonderful 
cavern on two occasions. The first time was only a few years 
after its discovery. We groped our way behind the dim light 
of a candle in a tin reflector held in the hand. Then again in 
1900 when we found the equipment of wires of modern 
electrical invention, stretched through every room and cor- 
ridor, brightly lighting up every space and in a measure 
causing one to forget for the moment, that the extensive 
exhibition around us was indeed down in the bowels of the 



I found that it was more impressive and facinating to 
creep and crawl, gazing into the surrounding darkness, and 
as each display was approached, one has the delightful sen- 
sation of original discovery, and impresses on the mind the 
fact that the work we are inspecting — built in the stillness 
of darkness — is a construction that could not have been 
executed by the hand and ingenuity of man ! 


Having once suffered the sensations attendant on sea- 
sickness for a period of fortj^-eiglit consecutive hours, I may 
be pardoned in claiming lots of personal courage when in 
March 1899, I closed a ticket contract to take with me my 
wife and little boy of six years on a trip to Jamaica, West 
Indies. That the trip involved five long days on the ship 
and no " stop-over " I was well aware, and in the almost 
certainty of rough water at that time of year I was not 
deceived. I expected seasickness for my individual portion 
and hoped my wife and little boy who laughed at my words 
of forewarning, would not only escape, but would be able to 
comfort and assist me in my dire necessity. 

Of Jamaica we had heard much that prompted us to the 
step, not only as a health resort, but as the home of abun- 
dant fruits and flowers and of strange sights and sounds. We 
decided we must see it and hence our inquiry — what is the 
best way to get there ? 

Thursday noon, March 16, found us on board the Boston 
Fruit Co. Steamer Beverly, waving adieu to friends on the 
wharf as the steamer left her moorings and slowly proceeded 
down the harbor. 

Although this steamer was entirely seaworthy and a good 
captain and crew, yet her build and size was not what we 
had hoped for, but as it proved later, what we had lacked in 
these points was more than made good by the elements, for 
during the entire five days occupied on the }»assage, we had 


clear skies and favorable winds, so the captain could truth- 
fully say it was one of his smoothest trips over that line. 

Of the seasickness I need say but little. Of course we 
were all — just a little — at times, but altogether it had the 
result of making sailors of us aU. And most unexpectedly 
of me who had been such a prejudiced " land-lubber " for 
twenty-five years past. 

Our second and third days were uneventful. The dreari- 
ness of the ocean was around us, a few of Gary chickens and 
many flying fish — which we had cooked for our breakfast — 
took up much of our time in watching. The fourth day 
we passed Wallings Island on the west. Much interest 
centers in this island as the supposed first land discovered 
by Columbus. 

At 9 a. m., we ran close to Crooked Island with its lovely 
lighthouse on a narrow head-land called Birdrock. All this 
up-to-date and civilized appearance had a strangely com- 
forting and assuring influence over us. All these islands 
with Castle Island and lighthouse a few miles further south, 
are of coral formation, and this is our first sight of the 
beautiful coloring of the shoal waters which cover the coral 
reefs among aU the West Indies. At a period following 
the Revolutionary war there were some very productive 
cotton plantations on these islands, but little industry now 
remains except the raising of cocoanuts. Continuing on we 
see in early evening the glimmering light from Cape Maysi, 
the eastern point of Cuba, and turn in feeling that our 
journey is nearing the end. 

On coming on deck the next morning we look for land. 
It is fair and clear around us ; we look far to the east and 
to the west, and towards the south great clouds seem to be 


banked one above the other, and among them we discover 
what looks like a mountain. On recourse to the captain we 
are told, " that is Jamaica." And now we recall, — history- 
tells us that on his second trip of exploration that great dis- 
coverer, Columbus, after sailing about Cuba sailed in a 
southerly direction, and on the 3rd day of May, 1494, he 
saw " the blue summit of a vast and lofty island which 
began to rise like clouds above the horizon," and on his 
approach he thought it the most beautiful country he had 
ever seen. 

It was fascinating in the extreme, to hark back and think, 
that four hundred years ago the eyes of civilized man 
first fell on that land, when standing on the deck of his ship 
near where we were then standing. We steamed rapidly 
across a smooth sea and as we approach nearer, our minds 
are centered on what is before us. In answer to our whistle, 
a pilot puts out from the harbor in a quaint little tug, 
approaches us, is taken on board. We swing in behind an 
island and find we are at last in the harbor of Port Antonio 
on the northeastern part of the island. 

This approach of Jamaica is very impressive. Like most 
of the coast line, it rises abruptl}'^ from the water into 
elevated foothills clothed everywhere with the dense foliage 
of the tropical gardens, showing no barren slopes or cliffs 
from the water's edge to the summit of the lofty Blue 
Mountain, which is 7675 feet above the sea level. 

Landing at Port Antonio at midday ; securing good 
accommodations at Titchfield Hotel, meeting everywhere an 
English speaking people, both colored and white, we at 
once feel quite at home. Before examining this country- 
further, we should briefly recall some geographical and 


historical facts which are so easily overlooked or forgotten 
by us. 

This island is about one hundred and fifty miles long east 
and west and fifty miles across in the widest part or center ; 
was discovered in May, 1494. Was visited by Columbus 
on his fourth and last voyage in 1502, where he ran his 
leaky ships ashore and lay in Dry Harbor for about a year, 
abandoned by his ungrateful country and believed by his 
mutinous crew to be in exile. And though his dangerous 
and pathetic situation was well known, those who should 
have been his friends did not relieve him until 1504. Small 
wonder that he was now broken down in health and spirit 
and had but two years more of life, dying at the age of 
seventy years without knowing he was himself the discoverer 
of a vast continent. 

In 1507, Diego Columbus, son of Christopher, sent the 
first Governor with a colony to settle and take possession of 
the island ; Spain holding control 150 years until the 
capture by the English in 1655. Then came to Jamaica 
in the next forty years, a period of fabulous wealth and 
wickedness. Port Royal on the south being the head- 
quarters of that scourge of the high seas, the home of 
pirates, buccaneers and privateers. To the beautiful harbor 
of Port Royal such men as Morgan and Bartholomew 
brought their captured booty of jewels and gold and silks 
taken from the rich merchant men. 

The story of the ending of this condition of wealth and 
crime is perhaps only paralleled by the destruction of the 
city of Pompeii. 

About midday of a lovely day in June, 1692, a remarkable 
earthquake occurred. All over the island the mountains 


were shaken to pieces. It was almost instantaneous and 
dui'ing the three or four minutes it continued, the entire city 
of Port Royal dropped suddenly several fathoms under 
water, with all the lives it contained. At the present day 
with a bright sun and still water, many ruins of the city can 
yet be seen. The destruction of life was horrible all over 
the island and few people of that period of superstition 
could but consider it " the Lord's punishment." 

Slowly recovering from that great calamity and though 
afterwards visited with hurricanes and a disastrous fire, the 
great plantations continued to be productive, the population 
had increased, and towards the close of the next century it 
had built up the large city of Kingston, near the site of 
Port Royal and had become the great emporium for the 
immense slave trade carried on by England. History tells 
us that during the 18 th century, six hundred thousand slaves 
were lauded for service on this little island. A permanent 
and interesting monvmient which stands as a memorial to the 
great labor once performed by the slaves whose lives were 
sacrificed here, is the continuous lines of beautifid stone 
wall which enclose the highways and separate the planta- 
tions of wealthy owners. These walls were built six to 
eight feet high and four or five feet thick, of small stone, 
evenly and nicely laid with a layer of mortar on the top, 
and as there are no frosts in this country they still stand as 
when completed. 

This year of 1899, entering Jamaica we find many 
evidences of its past importance. On every hand we find 
vast plantations grown up with wild shrubbery, where once 
was seen a wide expanse of thrifty sugar cane. Many of 
these acres have been redeemed by the Boston Fruit Co., 


and are now producing thousands of bunches of bananas. 
Banges of the picturesque cocoanut tree, from six to ten 
miles in extent, are doing their share towards the support 
of the population. And of this tree it might be said : it is 
to the native inhabitant of a tropical countiy, all, and more 
than was once the buffalo to the native Indian of our own 
country, inasmuch as it not only furnishes him with food 
and shelter, but also of drink, with the added advantage of 
being always with him. And he shows his appreciation of 
his natural inheritance by lounging in the shade and work- 
ing only when necessity compels. Indeed, so far is this 
characteristic prevalent, that no industry can be pursued 
without the employment of contract labor from the East 
Indies, for the Coolie is industrious. 

Large coffee and pimento plantations are found in the 
central and more elevated sections of the island, the soil 
and climate being better adapted to such crops, and oranges, 
though cultivated to large extent, are found growing wild — 
so it is also of lemons and limes. Besides all these, which 
are valuable articles of export, we find growing in wild pro- 
fusion an endless and bewildering variety of vegetables 
and fruit which are too delicate for export. All of which 
goes toward the support of the indolent native. 

Astonished and exultant at the sight of this natural supply 
of foods and protection from the sun's rays, one turns in 
dismay and disappointment to ask — where are the birds 
which the Creator must have placed in this happy home ? 
Go ask the sneaking Mongoose ! — you will see him glide 
stealthily across your path, quickly hiding again in the 
safe cover of a wall or brush heap, ever on the alert for the 
eggs or young of the birds. He is a squirrel-coated, mink- 


legged, weasel-faced little mongrel. The Creator never put 
him in such a land as this ! He was brought here for other 
and commendable business ; to exterminate the snakes and 
rats that did once abound ; he found something he liked 
better, and the beautiful birds of a Garden of Eden have 
been exterminated. 

Is the legend of the Garden of Eden a myth ? We may 
have thought so ; but here we have come face to face with 
all the natural conditions necessary for the maintenance of 
human life and comfort on earth. Here is food on every 
hand growing spontaneously year after year, and abundant 
material for shelter by day or night from all the varying 
whims of the climate ; and on entering a Coolie village we 
found the parallel to our Eden extended still further — so far 
that the question of the " Fall of Adam " might well be 
opened anew — for indeed here were God's human creatures 
who were in apjjarent doubt as to the necessity of the 
traditional figleaf! 

Of the interesting things in Nature on the island, the 
Blue Moimtain stands first. Standing on the deck of a 
steamer and gazing up into its summit 7575 feet above, we 
learn to appreciate such an elevation, it being so much more 
imposing than views of a mountain surrounded by foot hills 
in the interior of a comitry. 

'^ St. Thomas in the Vale," a sea of clouds situated iu 
north central Jamaica with the town of Ewerton, is a valley 
encircled by high hills with Mt. Diabolo on the north. The 
view of this valley from the summit of Mt. Diabolo is one 
of great interest. Especially from daybreak to 9 or 10 a. 
m., at which time the entire valley is filled with banks and 
waves of beautiful, white, fleecy clouds. Every morning 


they are invariably there settled on the lowlands, and are 
dissipated only after the rays of the sun become quite direct 
and the trade winds lift and disperse them. 

The ride from Ewerton to the north shore was one long 
to be remembered. The road was like macadam. It 
leads in a winding course up the sides of Mt. Diabolo to 
the summit ; then in passing down the northern slope it 
follows a spiral, zigzag, snaky course through a rugged, 
broken forest and open land of the foothills. 

That night there was a full moon of great brilliancy ; 
lighting up all open spaces and making somber and 
grotesque shadows behind every bush, boulder, cliff and 
pinnacle, shadows long or short on every hand. 

The mules were in good mettle and had no fear of the 
down grade and their hoofs beat a tattoo on the solid road. 
Our carriage was in the middle of a bunch of eight to leave 
the railroad. Each carriage carried a lantern. We quietly 
and socially reached the summit. And then as we raced 
down that winding, whirling road for more than an hour, we 
could see those lanterns in all directions below us — on the right 
hand — on the left, and above us. Here, appearing to sight 
suddenly from dark shadows — swinging in the open — 
dodging behind a thicket — there, dodging behind a cliff — 
behind a boulder as suddenly as if ♦' snuffed out " — and all 
the time, that big moon was steadily lighting the entire 
surroundings and valley far below — why ! we began to feel 
the mountain-side was in possession of Sprites and Fairies ! 
It was the most spectacular evening ride in which I was 
ever a participant. 

Fern Valley is a narrow canyon or gorge cutting through 
a mountain chain, through which a wagon road has been 


constructed to the north shore. Nature, in her profusion of 
moisture has grown a covering of the ragged perpendicular 
walls of rock with the greatest imaginable variety of ferns. 

Trees grow on all possible points, then under, against 
and over the rocks are miles of ferns. This road strikes the 
shore at Ocho Rios, whose harbor like many others is a 
picture. Far out to sea the coral reefs light up through 
the shallow waters of the bay, giving long bands and areas 
of colors, scarcely surpassed by the rainbow. In such a 
harbor near here did Columbus first drop anchor, what 
wonder that he thought it a beautiful country ! Near here 
empties the most picturesque of all the rivers of the island, 
" Roaring River." Roaring River Falls a mile distant, from 
the mouth of the river and the main road, is more properly 
a cascade or series of them, of dashing, roaring and foaming 
water over the face of a cliff a hundred-fifty feet high and 
a hundred-seventy-five feet wide. The entire face of the 
cliff being also strangely and artistically dotted across with 
trees, vines and beautiful flowering shrubs, clinging in the 
rocks beneath the shallow water, all making the subject of 
a beautiful picture. 

In addition to the variety ofgrowth of air plants and hang- 
ing vines in the forest, the flowering season of the trees has 
its own special and pleasing attraction. The subsequent 
fruiting and seed formation of some, produces a unique 
effect. Here I assume to have discovered for myself the 
origin of the name of a big hotel in Florida, the Poince- 
anna. The tree Poinceanna of Jamaica grows large and 
widespreading like our chestnut, and in March from its 
leafless branches hangs thousands of immense flat pods, each 
twenty inches long and two inches wide. Each pod contains 


about a hundred seeds an inch long, ingeniously packed in 
a layer, lying crosswise the pod. Thousands of rooms in a 
hotel and a hundred guests in a room ! Fortunate landlord 
if having so many patrons stowed away so economically and 

We find still another curiosity of gi-eat interest in the 
Lacebark tree, the inner bark of which grows in layers like 
finely woven lace which is easily peeled off and manufactured 
into curios of many forms of surprising beauty. 

There are but few varieties of deciduous trees, conse- 
quently we have that fresh, green, and dense covering of 
foliage continuous throughout the year. Words fail to 
convey an idea of the beauty of the tropical foliage so 
strange and different from that of our temperate zone. 

With all these fascinating surroundings in a climate that 
allows no sense of chill to linger on the skin, who would not 
spend a winter here ? 

Another picture ! Who would not dine at Bog Walk, 
served by barefooted natives in an ancient and peculiarly 
constructed house with its nooks and crannies — with the 
pigs and hens to pick up the crumbs from the floor ? Though 
of all the appointments, the dinner will be the most astonish- 
ing thing. 

Who would not stop over at a first-class native hotel at 
Mandeville and sleep on furniture that gives you dreams of 
the native Carib of the island of four hundred years ago, or 
of the more modern Spanish inquisition. Enjoy the cloud of 
bugs and winged things that contest your movements at the 
table — creeping things too — though in well regulated families 
I saw, they set the dining table legs in saucers of water to 
insure the serving of the guests before the vermin got there ? 


In Massachusetts, a lady refuses a cup of tea in which an 
unfortunate fly has come to an untimely end, but forty- 
eight hours residence in Jamaica educates her to deftly 
skim the unlucky of the myriad of flying insects from her 
consomme with her only spoon never once disturbing her 
dinner nor the thread of conversation. Or what would 
seem still more Incredible, look with quiet composure on the 
expulsion of a big rat from her chamber at bed time in 
Moneague Hotel. 

Be sure these entertaining divertisements will happen. 
Be sure the donkeys will bray all night, their only time for 
recreation. The roosters will crow during moonlit nights 
and the dogs bark to join the chorus. The fleas will bite 
at all times and places ; and don't forget the ticks are to 
be reckoned with every day to see they do not burrow 
under your skin when you are busy. 

But take courage in the assurance that when you return 
to the Titchfield Hotel you will get good Yankee square 
meals from produce shipped from Boston. 



I have before this written you of the charms of Round 
Mt. Lake ; of the happy conditions that attend it, the 
brook trout, the comfortable cabins overlooking the lake 
and the view of the chain of mountains on the opposite 
shore, claiming it to be the El Dorado of the Maine 
forest. The devotees of the flyrod find the greatest 
degree of pleasure during the month of June, in which 
month I have visited the lake for the past twenty-five 
years. Not until this year have I seen this locality in 
September, that month of active work in the studio of the 
Artist Creator. 

The autumn tinting on the slopes of the chain of 
moim tains can be compassed with one long gaze with a 
swing of the eyes from north to south and far surpasses 
my anticipations or any view I have ever before seen. It 
is like a grand canvas stretched before you ; bordered at 
the foot by the little lake, while the upper edge reaches to 
clear blue sky for a background. I saw it at its very best 
in the bright red flame of the maples ! Bordering the 
lake and up the canyons the bands of the dark green of the 
spruce prevailed ; on the lower slopes the various shades 
of color of the maples, birches and oak blended and pre- 
dominated over the green, while the next higher altitude 
gives an even mixture of colors like a big checkerboard, 
while again all the peaks are capped with dark green of the 

u ° 


spruce. The setting and grouping was fascinating and 
inspiring. To view and study the surface of the earth as 
the Creator has designed and painted it in this one locality, 
the days were too short and too few. For here too, we 
find all primitive conditions and many wild creatures, not 
alone the trout and salmon of the waters, but the feathered 
beauty — the ruffed grouse — here so void of fear, slowly 
escapes from your path into the thicket, and the graceful 
deer leaps from his hiding to stop and gaze in wonder at 
the intrusion. The beaver, once nearly extinct, have had a 
house on our lake for many years and are our old friends. 
Their house built of peeled sticks and clay is an object of 
great interest. It is situated on the edge of the shore, is 
five feet high by twenty broad at the water line, extending 
under water much out into the lake, the only entrance being 
under water ; while the solid cone-top does not leak and is 
fitted with a dry nest for the young. The darling little 
things ! How I desired to see them. How often I sat in my 
canoe in front of the house at dusk, fly casting — the while 
hearing the babies in the house crying a wee little squeal of 
impatience at the delay of their supper, and the old beavers 
were in the lake behind me slapping the water with their 
tails to scare me away so they could reach home. Their 
old dam at the foot of the lake is overgrown Avith trees 
more than seventy years old. 

One day in my wanderings up a stream, I discovered a 
beaver dam — a new one — from five feet high in the stream 
to a foot high along the bank and extending a hundred and 
twenty five feet in length. The entire labor of this great 
and skillful work had been accomplished during the present 
summer, and here and there are fresh mud and sticks newly 


cut and stones added last night. Once at dusk they were 
seen at work ; they work in gangs like men and evidently 
all are under one boss who superintends all movements in 
language of their own. These wanderings fill the days full 
of delight unknown to anyone but the camper-out. 

The nights were as pleasing as the days. The moon was 
at the full and no clouds. I was almost persuaded to 
attempt a photo of the lake and mountains under its power. 
Such nights are inspiring. One is never lonely ; one hears 
a whistle that reveals the near approach of a deer who is 
surprised at our camp lights. Once I heard the sharp 
inquisitive bark of a fox still hunting for a late supper, 
and frequently you hear the who-o-o-o of the owl in a tree 
over your cabin answered back by his comrade on the 
mountain across the bay. 

Another night, the wind in all its fury blows in great 
blasts with rushing, roaring softness known only in the 
forest. And the thunder shower ! It came at first in 
distant rumblings, soft, restful and sleep-wooing, then 
heavy, rolling and trembling it came ; then I sprang from 
my bed to the cabin door to admire it. The lightning burst 
all along the chain of mountains in streaming, blinding, 
continuous flashes, lighting up the entire surroundings. 
And the thunder ! though perhaps as heavy as I ever heard 
was softened and subdued in its detonations to a degree 
almost pleasing to the senses. Rain fell in torrents on the 
cabin roof and after the space of a half hour, the rain cloud 
had passed and that lovely big moon again shone out in all 
its splendor, while the echoes died away over the forest. 
And thus we lived another two weeks in restful quiet, 
nearer to God and Nature. 


'Twas a joy to press the pillow 
Of the dear old hemlock bed, 
And catch the rain that trickled 
Through the bark roof overhead. 

— E. M. M. 



When the fountain on the Common was dismantled, the 
twins, or cherubs, were taken to the North Reservoir and 
there placed in a commanding position overlooking the 
beautiful lake. During the summer and up to the present 
time, they have faithfully attended to their duty by throw- 
ing high into the air, sparkling jets of water which glimmer 
in the bright sunlight to the evident pleasure of all visitors 
to this romantic spot. Jack Frost has been particularly 
thoughtful and has attempted to shield their nakedness from 
the biting blasts of winter, and in their improvised garb 
Mr. Edward M. Messenger has succeeded in taking the 
accompanying picture, and also in penning the following 
lines to our famous " Heavenly Twins." 


These cherubs were a happy pair, 
One is not seen, but it is there. 
The modest one so bashful grew, 
She prayed for clothing for the two. 

Jack Frost, by whom her wail was heard, 
Once touched the fountain as it poured ; 
He weaved a robe of purest white, 
To cover both up, out of sight. 



Like many another piece of cloth, 
It lacked in width to cover both, 
And as of old — I've heard it said — 
She has all the clothes and half the bed. 

— E. M. M. 


Of the Province of Nova Scotia, the pretty town of Wolf- 
ville with its shaded streets, is one of the educational 
centers, containing the Acadia College, Ladies' Seminary 
and associated branches of education. And this being in 
Evangeline land, most tourists make this town their head- 
quarters for sightseeing. The pleasing drives from this 
point are the main features in doing the Province. They 
comprise Cape Blomidon, the highest point of elevation and 
on which is situated the quartz mines of unusual interest to 
geological students. 

The " Lookoff " gives an extended view of the bay and 
surrounding country. The Gaspereau river and valley with 
its fruit orchards, vieing with .the Anapolis for supremacy. 
The extensive dykes of the prairie and the ruins and 
remnants of those originally built. 

Grand Pre village, distance less than two miles, is on 
the site of the old original town, settled in 1603, and 
with Anapolis and Halifax, the oldest of historical record 
in the Province. Here was the home of Evangeline, the 
heroine of Longfellow's poem. 

In the slow, but steady march of natural changes and 
decays, the wonder is that any evidences of that period still 
remain, but here are to be seen landmarks of the olden 
time. The old wiUow trees putting forth green leaves 
every spring in their continued struggle for existence; a 
magnificent, mute appeal to the many generations of pos- 


terity. This depression, once a cellar where stood the resi- 
dence of their revered priest. The old " mill " near by. 
There the same old road through the village on which the 
shop of the blacksmith was located, while a half mile further 
east, the Gasper eau still pours its crystal volume into the 
bay, as it did in 1755, when the British ships lay in the 
offing, receiving on board the families for deportation. 

Aside from this historic locality, the tourist sees but lit- 
tle in the Province that appeals to the senses as being 
astonishing, unique or picturesque, much less artistic. One 
looks in vain for a cozy vine-clad cottage or a secluded 
nook, where the hand of nature has been kind. The wild 
wooded country is covered mostly with the spruce and other 
varieties common to that latitude, but as there are no moun- 
tain elevations here, so there can be no overhanging cliffs, 
nor deep sombre canyons, nor dashing waterfalls. Beautiful 
pastoral scenes there are on every hand, but the tourist soon 
tires and longs for a day on the Clackamas river, in the Cas- 
cade Mountains, or the St. Joe river in the Kootenais. 


Marking the original locality of the priest's house and 
the church of the Acadians at Grand Pre, Nova Scotia, are 
still standing in a row, like veteran soldiers with a duty 
unfinished, eight large, wide spreading willow trees, hoary 
and broken by the winds of more than two centuries. 

Tha story of the deportation of the Acadians from their 
homes in that country; the separating and scattering of 
families of loved ones, has been told in prose and verse, and 
a wide, deep vein of sympathy for such distressing fortunes 
of war is assured that people for all future time, through 


the influence of the touching poem by Longfellow, in his 
Evangeline. Many descendants of that once happy French 
colony, established on the shores of Minas Basin, three hun- 
dred years ago, still linger in fond memory of their ances- 
tors. We can well believe they love also to sit, as did the 
father of Evangeline on that memorable night, — 

*' Vainly offered him food ; yet he moved not, he looked not, 
he spake not." 

And gaze long and lovingly on the beautiful prairie they stiU 
covet as their own ; on trees planted in love and labor two 
hundred years ago by the hands of their forefathers. What 
wonder that in these hours of looking backward from the 
shadow of the grand old willows, these tender-hearted and 
simple people should be carried along on the tidal wave of 
fancy until among the gnarled and twisted trunks and 
branches, the faces of their sires are revealed to the fevered 
imagination ! But is it imagination ? Can the veracity of 
the camera be questioned ? 



The arrangements of colors and delicacy of tints in the 
plumage of birds, is to me a most fascinating study. And 
especially are the voices that are bequeathed to some of 
the beautiful and eloquent creations of the feathered race, 
an inspiration. 

In the early years of my life, I formed acquaintance with 
every local species of bird life of which there were many 
at that time, and since many years, they are still fresh in 
my memory. It was not however until the present decade 
that I met the Rosebreasted Grosbeak in captivity ; for 
there only, is where his charming qualities can be satis- 
factorily observed. 

The Rosebreast comes upon the scene gorgeous in his 
black suit with white trimming and a large chimesette of 
lovely rosepink covering his breast and also underlining 
his wings. A wonderfully decorated bird to look upon, 
and a ravishing songster of the highest type. 

Of such was Jim, and is Jim, for Jim is no fiction, but a 
living being who gladdens the senses of sight and hearing 
of all who are fortunate enough to make his acquaintance. 

At my first interview with Jim, I was introduced with 
two companions. Jim looked at us with a grace fit for the 
stage. His cap raised a trifle, through fear or surprise at 
seeing so many strange faces ; then stretching his neck full 
towards me, slowly raised himself to his full height then 
lowered to the level ; turned his eyes on the next stranger 



and went through the sam.- comical nianceuvers with each 
of us ; after which he devoted his attention to his old and 
tried friends. 

Jim has many eccentricities, but in captivity is a knight 
that never sulks in his tent. He sings and dances for all, 
from April to August, every day from 3.30 a. m. to 4.30 
p. m., and performs many tricks of merit that denotes 
unusual intelligence. Jim coughs, cries, laughs and dances, 
like any other member of a well regvdated family, and is 
not afraid of the kissing-bug with his master or mistress. 
In dress, too, Jim conforms to the usual rules or whims of 
society. Under the summer sun, the bright colors of his 
best outfit fade and in late August he has cast off the 
offending feathers one by one until he has figuratively, 
*' nothing to wear," and literally, scarcely sufficient clothing 
left to compare favorably with the ladies modern bathing 
suit. Then, even Jim, is laughed at until he takes on his 
new suit of brown, black and strawberry color of the winter 

The beautiful oriole, is in possession of perhaps some of 
the sweetest vocal strains of bird voice ; but whUe the rose- 
breast compasses that same soulful, liquid tone in his 
cadences, it is also backed up by much greater volume, and 
he is more persistent and untiring in his rendering and 
repetition of the song. He sings as if he knew some of 
his listeners to be in the distant part of the house and it 
was his desire to reach their ears. And if perchance he 
hears a footstep, he stretches forward his neck to catch the 
first glimpse of the approaching \'isitor whom he is then 
giving a greeting. And in that peaceful stillness that 
pervades the hours of daybreak, you can distinctly catch an 


undertone running through his song, giving it the 
character of a gurgling duet. 

Although Jim must now have seen fifteen or sixteen 
years, with the intelligent and untiring care and judicious 
feeding, that has been his lot, age has not dimmed the 
lustre of his eye, nor detracted in the least from the original 
purity and sweetness of his voice. 

Jim has a history which truthfully told, includes some 
thrilling incidents suggestive of a fairy tale. He has been 
a member of his present home for the past fourteen years. 
Of his earlier life, there is no records, whether his claims 
of nativity fall to the Glades of Florida, the Pampas of 
Texas, or the Mountains of North Carolina, we know not. 
Jim was young and vigorous and through intuition or 
influence of migrating flocks, he started north. Escaping 
the ambush of various foes he travelled many days, to 
arrive at last in a beautiful city in Massachusetts, only to 
be fallen upon by a new and strange enemy in the person of 
some cruel hawk, hidden among the tree-shaded streets in 
the early morning. 

Now I see him ! putting his entire strength into his 
wings that have previously served him so effectually ; 
dodging here and there — over house-tops — in and out 
among steeples and chimneys, till finally poor Jim was 
clutched in the talons of his cruel, relentless enemy, and 
the tragedy was seemingly completed. Then came the 
service of the Angel of God, who had witnessed this 
unequal contest ; to dash them with stunning force against 
a friendly wire. The shock loosed the talons of his captor, 
and poor Jim now unconscious, drops beyond the reach of 
his baffled foe. 


At this time in the year, 1892, there lived in the city of 
Worcester, this family of ray friends, Mr. and Mrs. Jerome 
C. Field. About seven o'clock of the morning of May 10, 
as their janitor entered a business block to pursue his 
duties he felt some soft object strike and lodge on his 
shoulder. Reaching back his hand to divine the cause, he 
was sharply pecked. He clasped in his hand a bird of once 
beautif id plumage, now besmeared with its own blood oozing 
from many wounds and apparently dying. This pathetic 
sight touched the heart of the janitor. He left his work, 
carefully took the little suffer to the home of his employer 
and gave it to the lady. She gave it the tender care she 
would render a wounded child ; removing the blood and 
arranging its feathers, and when after a time it opened its 
little glistening black eyes and looked at her, she said, 
" his name shall be Jim." Although Jim's timidity 
caused his loving mistress much caution and difficulty in 
approaching his cage with food and water for many weeks, 
yet, when quite alone the second day after his installation 
in his new home, he lifted up his sweet voice and sang his 
praise to God for delivery from death. 

It is toritten : " Are not two sparrows sold for a 
farthing V " Verily I say unto you^ one of these shall 
not fall to the ground loithout our Father.'" Through the 
agency of some indefinable dispensation, Jim fell to the 
hands of this family. His rich voice is like a revelation and 
fills their hearts with visions of a future life of love, holiness 
and happiness. They prize him on a high level with 
worldly possessions. They call him their mascot and they 
love him as we should love all created things in the world. 
Edward Marshall Messenger. 






The Crest of the 
Messenger "Coat of Arms. 




Henry ( 1 ) Messenger. Born in England, 1618. Died in Boston, 
1681, made freeman in 1665, member of A. and H. Artillery 

1658. Married Sarah Were residents of 

Boston in 1640, where the old Boston Museum stands. 

Thomas ( 2 ) Messenger. Born in Boston, Mar. 20, 1661. Married 
Elizabeth Mellows, 

Ebenezer ( 3 ) Messenger. Born in Boston, June 2, 1697. * Died 
in Wrentham. Married Rebecca Sweetzer (ceremony by 
Cotton Mather.) 

Sweetzer (4) Messenger. Born in Wrentham, Mass., died 
there. Married Elizabeth Smith. 

Samuel ( 5 ) Messenger. Born in Wrentham, May 12, 1761. Died 
in Stoddard, N. H., Aug. 30, 1824. Married Lavinia Blake. 
Born in Wrentham. 

Marshall ( 6 ) Messenger. Born in Stoddard, N. H., May 16, 1802. 
Died in Stoddard, Apr. 28, 1865. Married 1st, Nancy Friend. 
^ Born in Stoddard, May 6, 1806, killed by the lightning July 

y 31, 1835. Left two girls, 5 years, 3 years. Married 2nd, 

'^^ Fannie M. Holmes. Born in Stoddard, Sept. 19, 1805. 

r^ . .' Died in Boston, Mass. Jan. 27, 1891. Had four children. 

Edward M. (7) Messenger. Born in Stoddard, June 12, 1841, 
now living in Winchester, Mass., 1911. Married Ist, 
Martha W. Leach, daughter of Ool. Bradley Leach and 
Eliza (Woodward) Leach. Born in Westmoreland, N. H., 
r " Jan. 22, 1843. Died in Westmoreland, Sept, 27, 1865, Mar- 

ried 2nd, Mary (Proctor) Marshall, Born in New Ipswich, 
May 17, 1864, now living in Winchester, Mass. 

- Edward W. (8) Messenger. Son of Edward M, Messenger and 

Martha ( Leach ) Messenger. Born in Westmoreland, N. H., 
Sept. 16, 1865. Married Jessie M., daughter of Deacon Otis 
Hutchins and Sarah ( Patten ) Hutchins. Born in West- 
moreland, N. H., Oct, 20, 1870, both now living in Melrose, 
Mass., 1911. 

Guy Holmes (8) Messenger. Son of Edward M. Messenger and 



Mary (Proctor) Messenger. Born in Winchester, Mass., 
July 26, 1893, now living in Winchester, Mass., 1911. 

Helen M. (9) Messenger. Daughter of Edward W. Messenger 
and Jessie ( Hutchins ) Messenger. Born in Winchester, 
Mass., Nov. 17, 1894, now living in Melrose, Mass. 

Marshall E. ( 9 ) Messenger. Son of Edward W. Messenger and 
Jessie ( Hutchins ) Messenger. Born in Melrose, Mass., 
Feb. 5, 1904, now living in Melrose, Mass. 

George (1) Holmes. Born in Nazing, England, 1594. Died in 
Roxbury, Mass., Dec. 18, 1645. Came to America, 1637. 
Made freeman, May 22, 1639. Married in England Debo- 
rah Born there and died in Roxbury, Mass., 

Nov. 6, 1662. Had eight children. 

John (2) Holmes. Born in Roxbury, 1643. Died May 17, 1676. 

Married Sarah Settled in Woodstock, Ct. 

( Ancestors of Oliver Wendell Holmes. ) 

Samuel (3) Holmes. Baptized July 13, 1675. Died in Dedham, 
Mass., April 16, 1725. Married Mary BuUard, December 
22, 1696. 

Ebenezer (4) Holmes. Born in Dedham, Mass., April 4, 1706. 
Died May 30, 1785. Married Sarah Coney, Jan. 25, 1732, 
ceremony by Samuel Dunbar. 

Ebenezer (5) Holmes. Born in Dedham, May 12, 1733. Died 
June 24, 1801. Married Jemima Lyon, Jan. 20, 1761. Born 
in Walpole, Mass., Dec. 23. 1738. Died in Sharon, Mass., 
Feb. 6, 1816. 

George (6) Holmes. Born in Sharon, Mass., Oct. 9, 1761. Died 
in Stoddard, N. H., Sept. 1, 1843. Married Rachel Allen, 
Oct. 25, 1781. Died in Stoddard, N. H., Nov. 9, 1846, age 
84 years. Moved from Sharon, Mass., to Stoddard, N. H., 
Feb. 9, 1792. Had ten children. 

Fanny M. ( 7 ) Holmes. Born in Stoddard, N. H., Sept. 19, 1805. 
Died in Boston, Mass., Jan. 27, 1891. Married Marshall 
Messenger, July 14, 1836. Born in Stoddard, May 16, 1802. 
Died there April 28, 1865. 


Children of Samuel ( 5 ) Messenger and Lavinia 
\ ( Blake ) Messenger. 

Hermon (1) Born March 18, 1790. Died in Stoddard, N. H., 
Feb. 17, 1840. Married Lydia Bent. Died in Stoddard, 
Jan. 23, 1867. 

Rebecca (2) Born Aug. 16, 1791. Died young. 

Nancy ( 3 ) Born May 21, 1793. Married Alphaus Wright, Dec. 
22, 1814. 

Samuel (4) Born in Stoddard, March 2, 1795. Died in Lemp- 
ster, N. H. Married 1st, Nancy Phelps, Jan. 8, 1820. Mar- 
ried 2nd, Sally Bend, June 6, 1822. Died in Lempster. 

Lavinia (5) Born in Stoddard, Sept. 21, 1796. Died in Marlow, 
N, H. Married Joel Tenney Marlow. 

Cordelia (6) Born in Stoddard, May 31, 1799. Died in July 15. 
1888. Married Rufus Dodge, Nov. 18, 1824. 

Marshall (7 ) Born in Stoddard, May 16, 1802. Died there April 
28, 1865. Married 1st, Nancy Friend. Born in Stoddard, 
May 6, 1806, killed by the lightning in Stoddard, July 31, 
1835. Married 2nd, Fanny M. Holmes. Born Sept. 19, 1805. 
Died in Boston, Jan. 27, 1891. 

Silas (8) Born in Stoddard, Dec. 23, 1803. Died there July 1, 
1871. Married Arvilla L. Copeland, Stoddard, N. H. Died 
in Keene, N. H., June 1, 1906, age 98 years, 6 months, 26 
days. ^ 

Betsy Alma ( 9 ) Born in Stoddard, March 3, 1803? Died there 
Jan. 14, 1832. 

Barnum Blake ( 10) Born in Stoddard, December 13, 1811. Died 
in Beaver, Utah, May 27, 1878. Married Louisa B. Howard. 
Born in Stoddard, Oct. 5, 1819. Died in Beaver, Utah, May 
19, 1908, aged 89 years, 8 months, 14 days. 

Children of George (6} Holmes and liachal (^Allen) 
Lucy (1) Born in Sharon, Mass., Feb. 1, 1782. Died in West- 
port, New York, April 4, 1856. Married Amos Thompson, 
March 15, 1803. 
Jabez (2) Born in Sharon, Sept. 11, 1784. Died in Marcy, New 
York, March 18, 1852. Married Margaret Burns. Born in 
Marcy, New York, 1789. Died there Feb. 15, 1862. 


Clifford (3) Born in Sharon, Jan. 17, 1787, Died in South 
Charlestown, N. H., April 18, 1869. Married Nancy Thomp- 
son. Born in Stoddard, 1789. Died in Langdon, N. H., 
May 24, 1880. 

Preston (4 ) Born in Sharon, May 15, 1788. Died Nov. 17, 1858. 
Married Ist, Elizabeth Lund, Milford, N. H. 2nd, Margaret 
Burk, Williamstown. N. Y. 3rd, Rebecca Scoby. 

Augustin ( 5 ) Born in Sharon, March 8, 1791. Died in Walpole, 
N. H., March 7, 1882. Married Martha Mead. Died Dec. 6, 

Luke (6) Bom in Stoddard, N. H., Jan. 6, 1794. Died in Milton, 
Wisconsin, Jan. 22, 1871. Married Sally P. Corey. Born 
July 3, 1798. Died April 7, 1889. 

Dorothy ( 7 ) Born in Stoddard, Jan. 2, 1798. Died in Hancock, 
N. H., Nov. 12, 1893. Married Jessie Wilder. Born in 
Ringe, N. H., March 13, 1793. Died in Stoddard, Feb. 4, 1864, 

Sally (8) Born in Stoddard, Jan. 6, 1799. Died in Langdon, N. H., 
Sept. 10, 1860. Married Zolva Baker, May 8, 1828, Nelson. 
N. H. Died there. 

George Edward ( 9 ) Born in Stoddard, Feb. 17, 1802. Died in 
Rock Island, 111., Jan. 3, 1872. Married Ist, Mary Moore 
Lvinenburg, Vermont. Married 2nd, Laurain Durfee, Port 
Byron, 111. Born in Aug. 15, 1805. Died in Aug. 29, 1896. 

Fanny Matson ( 10 ) Born in Stoddard, Sept. 19, 1805, Died in 
Boston, Mass., Jan. 27, 1891. Married July 14, 1836, 
Marshall Messenger, born in Stoddard, May 16, 1802, died 
there April 28, 1865. 

Children of Marshall Messenger and Na,ncy (^ Friend^ 

Huldah Ann ( 1 ) Born in Stoddard, N. H., Oct. 14, 1830, now 

living in Greenfield, N. H., 1911. Married Fred N. Lowe. 

Born in Greenfield, N. H., 1832. Died in Lowell, Mass., 

Nov. 17, 1862. 
Harriet Frances (2) Born in Stoddard, April 12, 1833. Died in 

Hancock, N. H., April 3, 1887. Married Bezaleel Taft. 

Born in Swanzey, N. H. Died in Keene, N. H., Oct. 31, 


Marshall Messenger and Fanny ( Holmes ) Messenger. 

Freeman Woodbury (1) Born in Stoddard, May 1, 1837. Died in 

, Aurora, 111., March 9, 1886. Married Hattie Blodgett. 
Born in Stoddard. Died in Stoddard, Aug. 14, 1864. Mar- 
ried 2nd, Eugenie Canney, Boston, Mass. 

George Milan ( 2 ) Born in Stoddard, Jan. 1, 1839. Died in East 
Jaffrey, N. H., Nov. 29, 1856. 

Maria Nancy ( 3 ) Born in Stoddard, May 5, 1840. Died in Sharon, 
N. H., July 26, 1881. Married Ira H. Proctor. Born in 
Stoddard. Died there. Married 2nd, Amos J. Proctor. 
Born in Stoddard, now living in Hillsboro, N. H., 1911. 

Edward Marshall ( 4 ) Bom in Stoddard, Jan. 12, 1841, now living 
in Winchester, Mass., 1911. Married Ist, Martha W. Leach. 
Bom in Westmoreland, Jan. 22, 1843. Died in Westmore- 
land, Sept. 27, 1865. Married 2nd, Mary ( Proctor ) Marshall. 
Born in New Ipswich, N. H., May 17, 1864, now living in 



Samuel Messenger, enlisted Nov. 3, 1777, discharged Feb. 3, 1778, 

signed receipt for bounty, Col. Brooks Reg., Capt. Moses 

Adams Co. 
2nd Enlisted Feb. 3, 1778, discharged April 3, 1778, Guards at 

Cambridge. Same Reg. and Co. as before. 
3d Enlisted Aug. 24, 1778, discharged Sept. . . 1778, Col. John 

Dagget Reg., Capt. Boyd's Co. Expedition to Rhode Island. 
4th Enlisted July 28, 1780, discharged Aug. 7, 1870; service 

Rhode Island. Major Seth Bullard, Capt. Samuel Fisher. 
5th Enlisted from town of Medfield, Mass., Oct. 8, 1782, dis- 
charged Oct. 24, 1782, service at Hull; Major Job Cushing, 

Capt John Baxter Co. 
Ist Ebenezer Holmes. Enlisted July 23, 1779, discharged April 

23, 1780, 3rd Mass. Reg., Col. John Greaton, Capt. Edward 

Compton ( from Lieut. James Davis.) 
2nd Enlisted July . . . 1780, discharged Aug. 9, 1780, same Reg. 

Rhode Island Expedition. 
1st George Holmes. Enlisted Sept. 25, 1777, discharged Oct. 31, 

1777, Col. Theophilas Cotton, Capt. Nat Goodwin. Expe- 
dition to Rhode Island. 
2nd Enlisted Nov. 3, 1777, discharged Apr. 3, 1778, Col. Brooks 

Reg., Capt. Moses Adams, Guards at Cambridge. 
Ist George Allen. Enlisted " for the war," Feb. 11, 1777, Ret. of 

Co., Sept. 10, 1778, 12th Mass. Reg. Col. Gamahel Bradford, 

Capt. Zebedee. 
2nd Enlisted July 5, 1780, same Reg. " for six mos," July 23. 

Promoted to Sergeant. Transferred to 7th Mass. Reg. 

Lieut. Col. John Brooks, Capt. Rufus Lincoln. Discharged 

Jan. 1, 1781. 


Edward M. Messenger. Enlisted Aug. 14, 1862, 9th Reg. N. H, 
Vols., Col. I., Col. Fellows, Lieut. -Col. Herbert Titus, Capt. 
John Babbitt. Engaged, Battle of South Moimtain, Mary- 
land, Sept. 14, 1862. Battle of Antietam, Sept. 17, 1862. 
Wounded in head over right eye, loss of eyesight. Also 
lost thumb of left hand. Discharged and pensioned, 1863. 


3 is *i ^