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(lass. 
Book. 


?   2-^ 


..ykSi___ 


('()|)\Tii»lil  X" 


( OnUU;!!!'  DKI'OSIT. 


ROMANCE    OF   THE    MAINE    COAST 


I. 

Casco  Bay. 

11. 

Old 

York. 

11. 

The 

SOKOKI 

Teail. 

IV.    Pemaquid. 
V.    The  Land  of  St.  Castin. 


MAINE   COAST    ROMANCE 


j^^  Iftomance  ot 

HERBERT    MILTON    SYLVESTER 


BOSTON 
Stanbopc  press 

1906 


LIBRARY  fif  CONGRFSS 
Twf>  C"ni»«  Received 

AUG   il  1906 

/^Couyri^iii  Entry 
ai.K%%    CL      xxc,  No. 
COPY     B. 


Copyright,  by  Herbert  M.  Sylvester,  190G 
All  rights  reserved 


AUTHOR'S    EDinuN 

This  edition    is    limited    to    one    thousand    copies 
printed  from  the  face  type.     This  is  No. 


THE   ROMANCE   OF  OLD  YORK 

IS    IN.SCIMIJUII    To    THK 

HON.    CHARLES    F.    LIBBY 

OK 
i'OKTLAND,   MAINE, 

BY     THE     AUTHOR. 


THE  EPISTLE   DEDICATORY 


HA\'E  inscribed  the  Romance 
of  Old  York,  —  the  writing  of 
which  afforded  the  author  a 
deal  of  pleasure,  —  to  you,  my 
good  friend,  in  recognition  of 
the  cherished  acquaintance 
which  began  in  the  days  when 
the  author  stood  at  the  doorway 
of  a  strenuous  life,  and  when 
you,  as  well,  had  entered  upon 
what  has  proven  a  notably  suc- 
cessful and  honorable  career. 
^  As    the    years    have    gone, 

experiences  have  multiplied;  points  of  view  have 
changed;  but  the  same  kindly  glint  is  in  your  eye; 
the  same  sympathetic  greeting  in  your  hand  ;  the 
same  accents   of  friendly   interest,  good  cheer  and 

11 


/^-^.^^ 


r_:  THE  EPISTLE  DEDICATORY 

eiu-ouruffcnicnt  fall  from  y  )u:  lii)s,  as  in  the  days 
when  the  blood  ran  warmer  and  more  impetuously. 
A  sprinkle  of  gray  has  come  to  each  .'ince  we  took 
to  the  open,  each  to  hitch  his  wagon  to  hi^  par- 
ticular star;  yet  Time  has  dealt  kindly,  whatever 
the  remriining  elemental  forces  may  have  accom- 
pUshed  in  their  turn,  and  the  retrospect  may  be 
likened  to  a  road  over  which  we  have  come,  familiar 
enough  in  these  days,  but  once  strange  and  beset 
with  arduous  labors,  with  no  fabled  0;dv  of  Dodona 
to  drop  its  whispering  leaves  at  our  feet. 

It  is  fortunate  that  ambitions  differ.  Were  it 
otherwise,  the  hardships  of  accomplishment  would 
be  something  indeed  discouraging.  I  apprehend, 
however,  that  the  finest  ambitions  in  the  human  life 
are  those  which  seek  the  achievement  of  things  which 
come  to  one's  hand  in  a  way  to  enable  others  as  well 
as  one's  self  to  find  a  wholesome  enjoyment  in  the 
realizing  of  their  legitimate  fruits.  I  apprehend, 
further,  that  the  choicest  pleasures  have  their  origin 
in  the  realm  of  Thought,  nor  do  I  forget  the  admon- 
ishment of  the  Preacher,  that  "  of  makmg  books  there 
is  no  end;  an  1  much  stu  ly  is  a  wear'.ne-^s  of  t'.u^ 
flesh." 

Perhaps  I  ought  to  have  some  hesitation  in  the 
bringing  of  this  volimie  to  you,  but  aware  of  your 
scholarly  attainment  and  your  ripe  discrimmation 
in  matters  of  belles  lettres  in  these  days  of  India 
paper,  Roxburgh  bindings,  and  vest-pocket  editions 
in  limp  leather,  I  am  fortified  in  my  desire  to  dis- 
cover to  you  in  a  way  my  inclination. 


THE   EPISTLE  DEDICATORY  13 

I  do  not  assume  to  have  made  any  startling  dis- 
coveries in  the  back-lots  of  the  pioneer  days,  but  the 
rather  to  have  plucked  a  patch  of  lichen  here  and 
there  from  some  old  memorial  stone,  that  its  mystery, 
sadly  forgotten  and  neglected,  might  catch  anew  the 
sunlight  of  a  familiar  horizon. 

I  sincerely  hope  that  you  may  find  the  matter 
between  covers  more  palatable  than  may  appear  at 
first  glance,  and  as  all  good  things  in  life  are  of  a 
dependable  character,  no  one  standing  l^y  itself  alone, 
so  I  hope  "Ye  Romance  of  Old  York"  may  find  its 
weak  places  strengthened  by  the  remembrance  of 
a  friendship  which  the  author  reckons  among  the 
props  by  which  his  ambitions  have  been  upheld.  As 
to  the  making  of  these  pages,  the  procuring  the  matter 
for  them  has  been  like  the  exploring  of  a  land  of 
f!nchantment.  As  to  matters  of  history,  they  may 
be  accepted  as  accurate,  or  as  expressing  the  con- 
sensus of  opinion  of  those  familiar  with  the  ancient 
doings  of  the  days  that  made  up  the  century  following 
the  discoveries  of  Samuel  de  Champlain,  Very  little 
of  authentic  record  remains  of  the  earliest  years,  and 
one  is  somewhat  dependent  upon  his  color  box  and 
his  palette  knife,  which,  as  a  lover  of  the  fine  arts, 
will  be  appreciated  by  yourself. 

It  is  a  pleasant  curiosity  —  of  which  many  are 
ignorant  or  immindful  —  this  acquaintance  with  the 
Cobweb  Country,  and  which  is  to  be  regarded  as  a 
commendable  one;  for,  as  the  good  Montgomery 
says, 

"  'Tis  not  the  whole  of  Ufe  to  Hve.' 


14 


THE  EPISTLE  DEDICATORY 


The  sordid  things  in  hving  have  their  place  and 
their  use.  If  kept  in  place,  they  are  to  be  endured; 
but  with  them  in  the  saddle,  I  would  as  soon  play 
Skipper  Mitchell  with  Old  Aunt  Polly  of  Brimstone 
Hill  and  hor  horde  of  im])s  on  my  ))ack,  to  jje  harried 
from  Chauncey's  Creek  to  lira'boat  Harbor  for  a 
sixpence  worth  o'  luUibut. 

It  is  better  to  let  the  odd  sixpence  get  away  occa- 
sionally, especially  if  it  has  a  sixpence  worth  of 
good  in  it  for  one's  neighbor;  not  that  this  volume  is 
to  be  taken  at  mint  rates,  but  the  rather  for  what 
it  is  worth,  is  the  desire  of  your  good  friend  and 
well  wisher,  who  subscribes  himself, 

Cordialh''  j'ours, 

Sylvester. 


PREFACE 


r^^i-^yv  ■-,4 


PREFACE 


HE  story  of  the  coast  east 
of  the  Piscataqua  is  the 
gtory  of  old  houses  long 
since  vacated  by  their 
builders,  the  laying  of 
whose  sills  began  shortly 
after  the  visit  of  Capt. 
John  Smith  to  the  Isles 
of  Shoals,  and  practi- 
cally contemporary  with 
the  founding  of  the 
Plymouth  colony.  Looking  out  upon  this  historic 
stream  are  more  ghost  walks  almost  than  can  be 
counted  along  the  entire  coastline  of  Maine,  from 
Cape  Porpoise  to  the  St.  Croix. 

I  said  ghost  walks  —  not  that  these  old  roof-trees 
17 


18  PREFACE 

are  haunted  by  the  visible  apparitions  of  these  an- 
cients, though  I  am  not  wholly  certain  that  they  are 
entirely  forsaken  by  the  disembodied  spirits  of  those 
whose  footsteps  once  echoed  along  their  ancient  halls, 
or  left  the  prints  of  their  shoes  along  the  grit  of  the 
rude  roads  that  passed  their  back  doors;  for,  these 
old  homesteads,  and  their  like  old  interiors,  touch  one 
with  a  quick  sensibility  to  the  charm  of  their  old- 
time  romances,  and  throw  around  one  the  spell  of 
their  ancient  life.  These  old  wide  fireplaces  are  aglow 
with  flame ;  the  song  of  the  old  spinning-wheel  fills 
these  low-ceiled  living-rooms  with  a  murmurous  har- 
mony. Their  old  dwellers  come  again,  and  the  life 
of  the  first  half  of  the  seventeenth  century  goes  on, 
and  one  feels  that  that  was  never  on  sea  or  land,  color- 
ing the  images  of  the  period  with  a  fresh  conception  of 
the  New  England  of  the  olden  time.  Here  is  a  store- 
house of  antiquities,  antiquities  of  a  most  delicious 
and  appetizing  character,  that  lead  one  on  and  on 
until  one  is  lost  in  the  maze  of  quaint  episode  that 
began  up  the  Piscataqua  with  the  Hiltons,  and  on  old 
York  River  with  Godfrey.  To  go  back  to  1630  is 
like  taking  a  jaunt  into  the  wilderness;  for  the  farther 
one  gets  from  the  civilization  of  to-day,  the  rougher 
grow  the  roads,  until  there  are  no  roads  at  all,  only 
a  blazed  trail  to  show  one  the  way,  to  keep  on  until 
even  there  are  no  scars  on  the  trees,  only  the  mosses 
on  the  rinds  of  the  Druids  of  the  woods,  or  their  slant 
silhouettes  drawn  by  the  sun  across  their  uneven  floors 
for  a  compass  and  a  timekeeper. 
This  coloring  of   the  early  colonial  period  is  un- 


PREFACE  19 

matchably  rich.  Many  of  these  old  houses  are  as 
perfect  in  their  conditions,  as  pregnant  with  responsi- 
bihties,  as  in  the  days  of  those  who  knew  them  first 
and  loved  them  best.  Others  have  lapsed  into  senil- 
ity; their  chimneys  hang  askew,  like  an  old  battered 
hat.  Their  low-drooping  eaves  sag  like  the  shoulders 
of  an  old  man  in  the  last  stages  of  decreptitude. 
Others  yet  have  fallen  supinely  in  their  decay  into  the 
caverns  they  so  long  concealed,  or  have  shrivelled  into 
gray  ashes,  in  the  catastrophe  of  a  defective  chimney, 
and  not  one  of  them  all  without  its  tradition.  Let 
us  repeople  these  old  mansions,  leaving  out  the  ghosts. 
Let  the  old  brass  knocker  fall  here  or  there  between  its 
carved  lintels.  It  is  the  gentle  way,  and  it  is  a  gentle 
folk  by  whom  we  are  likely  to  be  entertained,  and 
who  know  nothing  of  modernness,  and  who  perhaps 
are  fortunate  in  that  respect;  for  social  conventions 
are  largely  of  the  nineteenth  century,  along  with  rag- 
time, cake-walks,  and  the  two-step. 

Instead,  for  a  space,  we  are  to  have  the  times  of 
hilarious  Tom  Morton  and  his  May-pole  at  Merry- 
mount;  when  the  softer  sex  were  prohibited  by  law 
from  the  Isles  of  Shoals;  when  the  constable  scoured 
the  village  by-ways  of  a  Lord's  day,  haling  people  into 
church,  to  shiver  and  freeze,  as  they  would  a  culprit  to 
the  magistrates  for  judgment;  whipped  Quakers 
through  every  town  until  they  were  without  the  juris- 
diction; when  women  were  branded  with  the  letter 
A ;  ducked  in  the  stream  to  cool  their  shrewish  ardor, 
or  pilloried  in  the  townhouse  square;  and  men  for 
more  grievous  sins  were  let  off  with  "forty  stripes. 


20 


PREFACE 


save  one,"  or  put  in  the  stocks  for  a  brief  season; 
when  the  father  of  Sir  WilHam  Pepperrell  was  laying 
siege  to  Margery  Bray's  heart,  and  Winthrop  was 
hatching  his  schemes  for  the  aggrandizement  of  the 
first  commonwealth,  and  throwing  the  addled  Epis- 
copal eggs  out  of  the  nests  of  the  New  Somersetshire 
colonies;  when  people  went  on  stilts  as  now,  though 
of  a  different  fashion,  and  Puritanism  was  the  guar- 
dian of  the  public  conscience;  when  Charles  I  liter- 
ally lost  his  head,  and  Gorges,  his  Palatinate;  the 
days  of  stately  dames,  brocades,  and  laces;  of  velvet 
coats,  queues,  and  knee  buckles,  and  not  infrequently 
good  old  English  manners. 

Like  pictures  that  have  been  long  turned  to  ihe 
wall,  suppose  the  author  turns  them  again  to  the  light, 
if  for  nothing  more  than  the  suggestion  they  may  hold 
for  a  reverent  and  not  wholly  indifferent  posterit}'. 

The  Author. 


^^^■y 


x^ 


mm 


I.  The  Voyagers. 

II.  Accomenticus. 

III.  The  Bells  of  York. 

IV.  Saddle-bag  Days. 
V.  Old  Ketterie. 

VI.  .  Back-log  Stories. 

VII.  The  Pleiads  of  the  Piscataqua. 


PAGE 

Half-title      1 

Vignette       ^ 

Headband H 

Initial       H 

Tailpiece      li 

Headband,  Preface      17 

Initial       ^"^ 

Tailpiece      20 

Stepping-stones 21 

Pictures 23 

Tailpiece      28 

Headband,  Voyagers 35 

Initial 35 

Louisburg  Harbor 37 

23 


24  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 


White  Island  Light 40 

Pemaquid 43 

Map 45 

Mount  Desert 46 

The  Nubble 47 

Thatcher's  Island  Light      48 

Boon  Island  Light 53 

Norman's  Woe 54 

Quotation  frojn  Capt.  John  Smith 55 

Cape  Ann 60 

Headband,  Accomenticus 63 

Initial      63 

The  Marshes 67 

Autographs      74 

York  River 76 

Mill-dam 78 

Barn  Cove        83 

Site  Gov.  Gorges'  House 92 

Union  Bluff 95 

York  Marshes      103 

The  Barrelle  Manse       104 

York  Jail 106 

An  Old  Wharf 109 

The  Apple-tree  brought  from  England      110 

Old  Woodbridge  Tavern      112 

Old  Wilcox  Tavern 113 

Old  Say  ward  House 115 

Mclntire  Garrison  House 116 

Headband,  Bells  of  York 119 


ILLUSTRATIONS  25 

PAGE 

Initial  

Roaring  Rock '  '"'^ 

First  Church  at  Hingham 121 

Boston's  First  Church        122 

The  Wooden  Tankard 123 

The  York  Meeting-house ^25 

Moodij  Cradle 1'^'' 

Remnant  of  the  Four  Elms 13^ 

The  Sewall  Tombs I'^l 

Coventry  Hall ^'^'"^ 

1 1^4 

Tailpiece      

Headband,  Saddlebag  Days l'^^ 

Initial      '^^ 

Quampegan  Falls 1^" 

Shattuck  House       1^1 

Rebecca  Nourse  House 1  ^'^ 

Witch's  Hill 1"-^' 

York  Jail        1"^' 

Witch's  Grove      ^^^ 

Tobey  House,  Eliot 1^^ 

Headband,  Old  Ketterie 197 

197 
Initial       

.    .    .  201 


Map         

Glimpse  of  Kittery  205 

Chauncey's  Creek 206 

The  Remick  House 207 

Rice's  Tavern      209 

21 1 

Shapleigh  House 

Parsonage,  1629 


26  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 


Old  Church,  1630 217 

Kittery  Cemetery 219 

Some  Old  Stones 221 

Lady  Pepperrell  House 223 

The  Massive  Door ■  224 

The  Knocker 22(> 

The  Hall      227 

Lawrence's  Cove      231 

The  Gerrish  House      232 

The  Anchorage 240 

Block  House,  Fort  M' Clary      244 

Fort  M'Clary  from  Warehouse  Point 247 

The  Pepperrell  Manse 249 

Pepperrell  Arms 254 

Pepperrell  Wharves 256 

The  Clavichord 259 

The  Bray  House 267 

Old  Traipe  Cider-press 270 

Site  of  Champernowne' s  House 272 

Champernowne's  Grave       2S6 

The  Joan  Decring  House       292 

Water  Side  of  Fort  M'Clary 295 

The  Sparhawk  Manse        296 

Tailpiece      300 

Headband,  Back-Log  Stories 303 

Initial      303 

Mclntire  Block  House        306 

Junkins  Garrison  House 310 

Frost  Garrison  House 321 


ILLUSTRATIONS  27 


PAGE 


Cutt  Garrison  House      325 

Snow-SJwe  Rock 334 

Old  Concord  Bridge 337 

Sturgeon  Creek  Warehouse 339 

Ambush  Rock      341 

Where  Harmon  Massacred  the  Indians 345 

Site  of  the  Old  Stacey  House 346 

Stacey  {Parish)  Creek  Bridge 347 

Bunker  Hill  after  the  Fight 350 

Relic    of    Ancient    Trading    Days,    (Stackpole's 

Landing) 3ol 

Boon  Island  Light       354 

Frost's  Hill 364 

Headband,  Pleiads  of  Piscataqua 367 

Initial       367 

Map 368 

Fort  Point 375 

Badger's  Island       376 

Portsmouth  Harbor 377 

Jaffrey's  Point 378 

We7itworth  Hall 379 

By-way  in  New  Castle 381 

Puddle  Luck        386 

Walbach  Tower 387 

Fort  Constitution 389 

Rocks  of  Star  Island      391 

Haley's  Wharf 394 

Smutty  Nose '^^^ 

The  Hontvet  House -^03 


28  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

The  Graves      409 

Along  Smutty  Nose  Shore 412 

White  Island  from  Star 414 

Duck  Island 415 

Londoner's  Island       416 

Old  Stone  Church 417 

Smith's  Monument 419 

Leighton's  Gut 421 

White  Island  Cliffs 424 

Tailpiece      427 


PRELUDE 


When  sunsets  go,  and  twilights  come 

In  splendid  mystery 
To  glorify  the  sands  of  York ; 

And  Nature's  minstrelsy 
Is  but  a  bar  of  molten  gold 

Above  the  crooning  sea ; 

The  incessant,  low-ripphng  tune 
The  soft-voiced  Naiads  play 

Along  the  brooks  —  a  limpid  rune  — 
An  idyl  of  Cathay, 

Each  note  a  bloom  of  scented  June 
Plucked  from  the  lap  of  May; 

When  od'rous  mists,  in  swirling  wraiths 
Of  loose,  diaph'nous  thread, 

Creep  through  the  needle-eye  of  Dusk, 
Upborne  along  the  shred, 

Ungarnished  waste  of  rush  and  weed, 
On  Zephyrus'  footfall,  sped; 

Boon  Island  Light  throws  out  its  bar 

Of  fire.     A  star  lets  down 
The  loose-pinned  curtain  of  the  night 

Upon  the  olden  town. 
Where,  clinging  to  its  drowsy  hem, 

The  house  lights  blink  and  drown. 


THE  VOYAGERS 


THE   VOYAGERS 

CCORDING  to  Kohl,  the 
German  geographer,  the 
first  voyager  to  sail  down 
the  Bay  of  Maine,  after 
the  Norseman,  was  Se- 
bastian Cabot.  He 
doubts  if  John 
Cabot,  the  father, 
made  the  voyage 
of  1498. 
The  Cabots  were  Vene- 
tians. Zuan  Caboto  was 
the  father,  a  man  of  reputation,  an  experienced  navi- 
gator and  cartographer.  He  came  to  England  some- 
time before  1494;  for,  it  was  about  that  time  he  began 
those  preparations  with  the  royal  consent  that  led 
to  the  English  discoveries  along  the  North  American 
Coast,  a  part  of  that  New  World  to  which  Columbus 
had  sailed  in  1492. 

Of  his  three  sons,  Sebastian  surpassed  the  fame  of 
his  father,  in  a  degree.  As  early  as  1495,  Henry  VH 
had  issued  a  patent  to  John  Cabot  and  his  three  sons, 
Lewis,  Sebastian,  and  Sancius.  It  authorized  them 
to  fit  out  five  ships  and  to  voyage  across  the  Atlan- 

.35 


36  OLD   YORK 

tic  —  "  under  the  royal  banners  and  ensigns  to  all 
parts,  countries,  and  seas  of  the  east,  of  the  west,  and 
of  the  north,  and  to  seek  out  and  discover  whatso- 
ever isles,  countries,  regions,  and  provinces,  in  what 
part  of  the  world  soever  they  might  be,  which  before 
this  time  had  been  unknown  to  Christians."  It 
further  empowered  the  Cabots  "to  set  up  the  royal 
banners  and  ensigns  in  the  countries,  places,  or  main- 
land newly  found  by  them,  and  to  conquer,  occupy, 
and  possess  them  as  his  vassals  and  lieutenants." 
This  first  voyage  was  made  in  1497,  and  did  not 
extend  so  far  south  as  the  Bay  of  Maine,  nor  did  it 
accomplish  much  more  than  to  locate  a  large  body 
of  land  in  the  Western  Hemisphere ;  yet  it  was  notable 
in  one  respect,  for  it  was  on  this  first  voyage  among 
the  ice-floes  of  the  North  Sea  that  Cabot  discovered 
the  variation  of  the  magnetic  needle,  which  phe- 
nomena he  gave  to  the  world  of  those  times,  and 
announced  his  reasons  for  the  same,  as  well.  No 
particular  exploration  was  attempted  or  made  of 
the  shores  visited;  Cabot's  knowledge  of  this  prima 
vista  was  of  the  most  meagre  sort.  Cabot's  first  land- 
fall, according  to  Deane,  was  the  northeast  shore  of 
Cape  Breton  Island.  Upon  his  return,  he  was  able 
to  relate  to  Henry  but  the  slender  fact  of  his  sighting 
land,  of  pushing  his  way  through  ice-laden  seas  as  far 
to  the  north  as  it  was  safe  for  him  to  trust  his  small 
craft,  and  of  his  ultimate  return.  Whatever  of  the 
picturesque  he  may  have  related,  must  have  had  its 
source  purely  in  a  vivid  imagination,  or  speculative 
conjecturing.     Jolm  Cabot  left  a  considerable  account 


OLD   YORK  37 

of  his  voyages  to  the  New  World,  but,  unfortunately, 
no  trace  of  them  has  ever  been  available.  They, 
like  Cabot  himself,  have  become  buried  under  the 
debris  of  centuries. 

In  lieu  of  the  personal  "Relations"  of  Cabot,  one 
must  depend  upon  the  chroniclers  of  his  time.  One 
of  these  was  Pasqualigo,  a  London  merchant,  who, 
August  23,  1497,  writes  to  his  brothers  in  Venice  — 
"The  Venetian,  our  countryman,  who  went  with  a 
ship  from  Bristol,  is  returned,  and  says  that  seven 
hundred  leagues  hence,  he  discovered  land  in  the 
territory  of  the  Great  Cham.  He  coasted  three  hun- 
dred leagues  and  landed,  saw  no  human  beings,  but 
brought  to  the  king  certain  snares  set  to  catch  game, 
and  a  needle  for  making  nets.  The  king  has  prom- 
ised that  in  the  Spring  our  countryman  shall  have 
ten  ships.  The  king  has  given  him  money  where- 
withal to  amuse  himself  till  then,  and  he  is  now  in 


LOUISBURG    HARBOR 


Bristol  with  his  wife,  who  is  also  a  Venetian,  and  with 
his  sons.  His  name  is  Zuan  Cabot,  and  he  is  styled 
the  great  Admiral.  Vast  honor  is  paid  him.  The 
discoverer  planted  on   his  new-found  land  a  large 


38  OLD   YORK 

cross,  with  one  flag  of  England  and  one  of  St.  Mark, 
by  reason  of  his  being  a  Venetian." 

One  could  imagine  Cabot  saying  the  same  thing 
himself,  so  definite  and  incisive  are  these  sentences 
of  Pasqualigo.  Their  notable  simplicity  gives  them 
the  very  impress  of  truth. 

Cabot  must  have  been  a  most  interesting  topic 
among  the  Londoners;  for,  on  the  very  next  day, 
August  24,  Raimondo  de  Soncino,  envoy  of  the  Duke 
of  Milan  to  Henry  VII,  says,  in  a  despatch  to  his  gov- 
ernment—  "some  months  ago,  his  Majesty  sent  out 
a  Venetian  who  is  a  very  good  mariner,  and  has  good 
skill  in  discovering  new  islands,  and  he  has  retiu-ned 
safe,  and  has  found  two  very  large  and  fertile  new 
islands,  having  likewise  discovered  The  Seven  Cities, 
four  hundred  leagues  from  England,  in  the  western 
passage.  This  Spring  his  Majesty  means  to  send  him 
with  fifteen  or  twenty  ships."  This  passage  from 
Soncino  has  all  the  ear-marks  of  hearsay,  and  is  a 
fair  specimen  of  the  romancing  of  the  times,  of  the 
wonderful  peoples  and  their  more  wonderful  riches, 
the  mythical  Tanais,  the  coveted  treasures  of  Cipango 
and  Kathay  that  could  not  be  a  far  dip  below  the 
Western  seas.  What,  or  where,  the  "Seven  Cities" 
were,  must,  like  the  fabled  city  of  Norombegua,  re- 
main a  legend  and  a  dream. 

In  some  of  the  relations  of  the  Cabot  voyages,  this 
preliminary  visit  to  the  New  World  was  made  as  early 
as  1494,  but  it  w\as  fully  a  year  later  that  old  John 
Cabot  went  to  the  king  with  his  scheme  for  the  dis- 
covery of    the  northwestern  water-way  to  Cathay. 


OLD    YORK  39 

Henry,  at  once  interested,  promptly  gave  his  support 
to  Cabot;  and  the  result  was  the  Patent  of  March, 
1495,  a  part  of  which  has  already  been  cited.  The 
burden  of  fitting  out,  the  chartering  and  manning  of 
the  craft  that  was  to  take  these  adventurers  into 
strange  lands,  fell  upon  the  Cabots.  Henry's  con- 
tribution was  the  royal  seal  affixed  to  the  royal  con- 
sent; and  it  may  be  assumed  that  much  time  was 
required  for  the  preparation  that  would  seem  impera- 
tive for  so  important  an  undertaking. 

Kohl  says  that,  referring  to  Cabot's  first  voyage, 
they  set  sail  from  Bristol  in  the  early  part  of  1497, 
with  four  vessels,  one  of  which  was  the  Matthew, 
whose  keel  was  the  first  to  grate  on  the  sands  of  the 
first  landfall,  possibly  on  the  Newfoundland  coast, 
as  designated  on  the  map  of  Reynel,  the  Portuguese 
pilot,  and  which  is  believed  to  have  appeared  in 
1504-5,  as  ''Y  dos  Bocalhos"  (Island  of  Codfish). 
Ruysch,  1508,  gives  it  "  baccalaurus " ;  and  later, 
Kunstmann,  1514,  designates  it  as  "Bacolnaus." 
Newfoundland,  Labrador,  and  Nova  Scotia,  are  in- 
cluded in  this  generic  term.  It  is  claimed  that  Cabot 
gave  this  name  to  the  region  discovered  by  him  on 
this  first  voyage  of  1497;  but  we  have  only  Peter 
Martyr's  statement  for  that.  No  such  name  appears 
on  Cosa's  map,  which  is  admitted  to  be  the  earliest 
record  of  Cabot's  discoveries  in  the  New  World. 
According  to  Kohl,  the  name  originated  with  the 
Portuguese,  though  the  word  is  declared  to  be  of 
Iberian  origin.  It  is  asserted  by  some  authorities, 
that  Cabot  found  the  word  here  before  him;  that  New- 


40 


OLD   YORK 


foundland  was  well-known  to  the  Basques;  and 
Kohl  admits  that  the  word  Baccalos,  had  long  been 
in  use  before  the  Cabots  sailed  hither,  or  even  the 
Cortereals.  In  fact,  the  word  is  repeated  on  Cabot's 
map,  1544,  according  to  Hakluyt.  Parkman  is  in- 
clined to  the  view  that  the  Biscayans  were  here  long 
before  Cabot. 

In  a  recent  work  of  Adolph  Bellet,  "The  French 


WHITE    ISLAND    LIGHT 


at  Newfoundland,  etc.,"  referring  to  the  expedi- 
tions of  the  Northmen  made  some  five  centuries 
before  the  Genoese  Columbus  and  the  bold  Pinzon 
sailed  away  from  Palos,  and  which  had  apparently 
been  forgotten  —  the  same  could  not  be  said  of  their 
cousins,  the  French  Basques  —  M.  Bellet  says  :  "  It 
is  to  this  first  landing  of  the  whale  fishermen  of 
Cape  Breton,  on  the  shores  of  Newfoundland,  that 
we  should  trace  the  true  discovery  of  the  New  World, 


OLD   YORK  41 

and  the  establishment  of  the  first  route  really  com- 
mercial between  Europe  and  America.  Unfortu- 
nately, it  is  impossible  to  give  a  fixed  date  to  this 
historical  event.  What  we  can  affirm  is,  that  it 
preceded  by  a  century  and  a  half  the  first  expedition 
of  Columbus;  which,  besides,  was  only  organized  by 
the  Genoese  navigator,  upon  information  given  by 
other  Basques,  whom  the  wind  had  driven  upon  the 
Antilles  about  the  year  1480." 

M.  Bellet  declares  the  Basques  to  be  the  real  dis- 
coverers of  America;  and  his  contention  is  not  unrea- 
sonable. 

But,  going  back  to  the  Cabots,  the  narrative  of 
Peter  Martyr,  contained  in  a  letter  to  Pope  Leo  X, 
is  of  especial  interest.      That  writer  says  — "These 
northern  shores  have  been  searched  by  one  Sebastian 
Cabot,  a  Venetian  born,  whom,  being  but  in  a  manner 
an  infant,  his  parents  carried  with  them  into  Eng- 
land, having  had  occasion  to  resort  thither  for  trade 
of  merchandise,  as  is  the  manner  of  the  Venetians 
to  leave  no  part  of  the  world  unsearched  to  obtain 
riches.     He,  therefore,  furnished  two  ships  in  Eng- 
land at  his  own  charges,  and  first,  with  three  hundred 
men,  directed  his  course  so  far  towards  the  North 
Pole  that  even  in  the  month  of  July  he  found  mon- 
strous heaps  of  ice  swimming  on  the  sea,  and  in  a 
manner,  continual  daylight;  yet  saw  he  the  land  in 
that  tract  free  from  ice,  which  had  been  molten. 
Wherefore,  he  was  enforced  to  turn  his  sails  and  fol- 
low the  west;  so  coasting  still  by  the  shore  that  he 
was  brought  so  far  into  the  South,  by  reason  of  the 


42  OLD   YORK 

land  bending  so  much  southwards  that  it  was  almost 
equal  in  latitude  with  the  sea  Fretum  Herculeum. 
He  sailed  so  far  towards  the  West  that  he  had  the 
island  of  Cuba  on  his  left-hand  in  manner  in  the  same 
degree  of  longitude.  As  he  traveled  by  the  coasts 
of  this  great  land  (which  he  named  Baccalaos)  he 
saith  that  he  found  the  like  course  of  the  waters 
toward  the  great  West,  but  the  same  to  run  more 
softly  and  gently  than  the  swift  waters  which  the 
Spaniards  found  in  their  navigation  southward.  Se- 
bastian Cabot  himself  named  these  lands  Baccalaos, 
because  in  the  seas  thereabout  he  found  so  great  mul- 
titudes of  certain  big  fishes  much  like  unto  tunnies 
(which  the  inhabitants  call  haccallaos)  that  they 
sometimes  staled  his  ships.  He  also  found  the  people 
of  those  regions  covered  with  beasts'  skins,  yet  not 
without  the  use  of  reason.  He  also  saith  there  is  a 
great  plenty  of  bears  in  those  regions  which  use  to  eat 
fish;  for,  plunging  themselves  into  the  water,  where 
they  perceive  a  multitude  of  these  fishes  to  lie,  they 
fasten  their  claws  in  their  scales,  and  so  draw  them 
to  land  and  eat  them,  so  (as  he  saith)  they  are  not 
noisome  to  men.  He  declareth  further,  that  in  many 
places  of  those  regions  he  saw  great  plenty  of  lacon 
among  the  inhabitants.  Cabot  is  my  very  friend, 
whom  I  use  familiarly,  and  delight  to  have  liim  some- 
times keep  me  company  in  mine  own  house.  For 
being  called  out  of  England  by  the  commandment 
of  the  Catholic  king  of  Castile,  after  the  death  of 
Henry  VII,  King  of  England,  he  is  now  present  at 
Court  with  us,  looking  for  ships  to  be  furnished  him 


OLD   YORK 


43 


for  the  Indies,  to  discover  this  hid  secret  of  Nature. 
T  think  that  he  will  depart  in  March  in  the  year  next 
following,  1516,  to  explore  it.  .  .  .  Some  of  the  Span- 
iards deny  that  Cabot  was  the  first  finder  of  the  land 
of  Baccalaos,  and  affirm  that  he  went  not  so  far  west- 
ward." 

This  is  evidently  a  relation  of  the  second  voyage, 
1498,  and  from  a  letter  of  Don  Pedro  de  Ayala,  who 
resided  in  London  at  that  time,  to  Ferdinand  and 


^fe^r^Ss^srSL'IS^te^SSB^ 


PEMAQUID 

Isabella,  dated  July  25,  1498,  he  notes  the  departure 
of  this  second  expedition: 

"  I  have  seen  the  map  which  the  discoverer  (Jolm 
Cabot)  has  made,  who  is  another  Genoese  like  Colum- 
bus, and  who  has  been  in  Seville  and  in  Lisbon  asking 
assistance  for  his  discoveries.  The  people  of  Bristol 
have,  for  the  last  seven  years,  sent  out  every  year,  two, 
three,  or  four  light  ships  in  search  of  the  island  of 
Brazil  and  the  Seven  Cities,  according  to  the  fancy 
of  his  Genoese.    The  king  determined  to  send  out 


44  OLD   YORK 

ships,  because  the  year  before  they  brought  cer- 
tain news  that  they  had  found  land.  His  fleet  con- 
sisted of  five  vessels,  which  carried  provisions  for  one 
year.  It  is  said  one  of  them,  in  which  Friar  Buel 
went,  has  returned  to  Ireland  in  great  distress,  the 
ship  being  much  damaged.  The  Genoese  has  con- 
tinued his  voyage.  I  have  seen  on  a  chart  the  direc- 
tion they  took  and  the  distance  they  sailed.  ..." 

This  second  voyage  is  of  the  greatest  interest,  and 
from  this  letter  of  de  Ayala  it  is  certain  that  John 
Cabot  accompanied  this  fleet ;  but  after  this,  he  seems 
to  have  lost  his  place  in  the  line  of  active  exploration. 
Little,  if  anything  further,  is  recorded  of  him. 

There  was  a  so-called  Cabot  map  bearing  the  date 
of  1544,  according  to  the  copy  of  Von  Martinsyi  and 
it  bears  a  marginal  note.  "This  country  was  dis- 
covered l^y  John  Cabot,  a  Venetian,  and  Sebastian 
Cabot,  his  son,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
MCCCCXCIV,  on  the  24th  of  June  (1494)  in  the 
morning,  which  country  they  call,  primum  visinn; 
and  a  large  island  adjacent  to  it  they  named  St.  John, 
because  they  discovered  it  on  the  same  day." 

Kohl  supposes  this  date  to  be  a  mistake,  although 
the  map  bears  the  countenance  of  veracity,  because 
it  states  facts  which  could  come  only  from  John 
Cabot.  Richard  Eden  says  it  is  authentic.  Eden 
was  a  contemporary  and  an  intimate  friend  of  Cabot  ; 
but  Kohl  describes  it  as  largely  a  copy  of  Ribero. 

It  was  on  this  second  voyage  that  the  Cabots  sailed 
down  the  Bay  of  Maine,  and  it  is  for  this  reason  that 
this  somewhat  extended  notice  of  the  Cabots  in  the 


OLD   YORK 


45 


opening  chapter  of  the  romance  of  "Old  York"  is 
allowable.  It  was  due  to  the  discovery  of  the  Maine 
coast  by  them,  that  it  was  first  peopled  by  the  Anglo- 


Saxon;  and  it  was  from 
the  coming  of  the  Cabots 
that  the  unwinding  of 
these  threads  of  fascinat- 
ing story  began. 

It  is   with  lively  con- 
jecture one  follows  the  Cabots  on  this 
second   visit  —  a  voyaging   that  was 
very  long  after  followed  by  Frobisher,  Davis,  Hudson, 
Fox,  and  Baffin,  names  more  familiar  to  the  school- 
boy, by  far,  than  that  of  Cabot. 
The   Cabots,    after   leaving   Newfomidland,   must 


46 


OLD   YORK 


have  rounded  Cape  Breton,  to  follow  the  southern 
coast  of  Nova  Scotia,  cutting  across  Fundy;  and 
from  thence,  south,  each  day  brought  them  into  a 
milder  and  more  equable  climate.  Undoubtedly 
they  hugged  the  land,  for  their  vessels  were  of  small 
tonnage,  and  their  anchorage  was  likely  to  be  more 
secure  among  the  sheltered  bays  that  alternated  with 
the  bold  and  rugged  headlands  that  reach  out  at 
intervals  of  a  day's  sail  over  the  course  southward; 


MOUNT    DESERT 


for,  once  past  The  Wolves,  and  still  farther  south, 
with  Grand  Menan  to  the  eastward,  the  whole  coast 
of  Maine  was  opened  up  to  their  wondering  vision, 
bewildering  in  its  scenic  splendor,  one  vista  of  sea 
and  shore  opening  imperceptibly  and  unannounced 
upon  another,  each  a  picture  of  inimitable  beauty, 
all  untamed,  unbroken,  and  undefiled  by  the  hand 
of  the  stranger.  It  was  an  extended  panorama  of 
imparalleled  charm,  and  fascinating  perspectives. 


OLD   YORK 


47 


Once  among  the  Isles  of  Mont  Desert,  threading 
their  water-ways  to  Au  Haut,  and  thence,  into  the 
mouth  of  Penobscot  Bay,  there  was  httle  to  remind 
them  of  the  chalk  cliffs  of  England,  for  here  was  the 
livid  green  of  low-sloping  shores  that  merged  into 
the  blue  of  the  sea  with  a  blending  of  color  to  which 
their  curious  eyes  had  theretofore  been  wholly  unac- 
quainted.   There  was  nothing  in  the  lagoons  of  Ven- 


THE    NUBBLE 

ice  to  suggest  these  inland-reaching  marshes,  which 
under  the  winds  from  the  Crystal  Hills,  bent  and 
undulated  like  endless  webs  of  golden  tapestries  over- 
shot with  the  silver  threads  of  the  salt  creeks  that 
crept  always  with  the  lazy  tides  in  and  out  their  low 
levels.  No  doubt  the  tawny  sands  of  York  suggested 
golden  visions,  and  once  past  the  shadows  of  Aga- 
menticus  and  the  stubby  nose  of  Neddock,  the  woods 
of  York  stretched  away  until  they  were  lost  in  the 
blue  of  the  far  western  horizon. 


48 


OLD   YORK 


According  to  Stevens,  these  visions  of  unrivalled 
attractiveness  never  broke  upon  the  eyes  of  the 
Cabots  and  their  fellow- voyagers.  To  quote  Winsor, 
"Stevens  does  not  allow  that  on  either  voyage,  the 
coast  south  of  the  St.  Lawrence  was  seen;  and  urges 
that  for  some  years  the  coast-line  farther  south  was 
drawn    from  Marco  Polo's  Asiatic  coasts.  .  .  .  Dr. 


"f'-y- 


THATCHER'S    ISLAND    LIGHT 


Hale  gives  a  sketch-map  to  show  the  curious  corre- 
spondence of  the  Asian  and  American  coast-lines." 
However  this  may  be,  one  thinks  as  one  likes;  and 
one  likes  to  think  of  the  Cabots  sailing  down  the  Bay 
of  ]\Iaine,  the  sheets  of  their  craft  bellying  with  the 
odorous  off-shore  winds  that  have  blown  the  same 
way  ever  since,  while  the  aborigines  skulked  behind 


OLD   YORK  49 

the  giants  of  their  primeval  forests,  or  fled  to  their 
inner  recesses  in  wonder  or  terror,  as  these  winged 
messengers  of  a  pale-faced  race  glided  from  head- 
land to  headland,  to  disappear  in  the  mists  of  the 
eventide,  and  whose  course  through  the  night  was 
marked  by  a  low-drifting  star  of  a  binnacle  lamp. 

It  was  years  after  this,  before  the  white  man  came 
again,  and  the  reality  of  those  strange  white  sails 
creeping  down  the  blue  of  the  roughened  sea,  had 
become  a  tradition  to  be  passed  aroimd  the  wigwam 
fires  of  the  Etchemin,  other  than  that  the  slender  fleet 
of  Verazzano,  who  came  over  in  1501,  was  anchored 
for  a  night  in  neighboring  waters,  supposedly  about 
the  mouth  of  the  Piscataqua.  This  was  in  May. 
He  had  come  from  what  is  now  the  sheltering  harbor 
of  Newport;  and  after  leaving  his  anchorage  here, 
he  sailed  northward  along  the  coast.  It  was  a  brief 
visit,  but  is  worthy  of  mention,  as  being  a  link  in  the 
chain  of  discovery  and  exploration  that  was  later 
lengthened  out  by  Champlain,  Gosnold,  Pring,  and 
Weymouth,  and  the  three  latter  of  whom  became 
in  a  manner  personally  identified  with  its  immediate^ 
fortunes. 

In  the  preceding  volume  of  this  series,  in  the  first 
paragraph  of  the  "Wizard  of  Casco,"  Jacques  Cartier, 
by  a  typographic  error  is  made  the  Spanish  navigator 
who  first  designated  the  beautiful  bay  of  Casco  as  the 
"Bay  of  Many  Islands."  Jacques  Cartier  was  the 
French  explorer  of  the  bay  of  St.  Lawrence.  It  is 
unfortunate  that  this  misnomer  escaped  the  eye  of 
the  proof-reader,  but  it  is  so  obviously  a  reference  to 


50  OLD   YORK 

Estevan  Gomez,  the  friend  of  Sebastian  Cabot,  that 
the  meaning  is  apparent. 

According  to  Reinel,  who  was  a  countryman  of 
Gomez,  the  latter  laid  his  course  in  that  voyage  of 
1525  to  the  northward  from  Corunna,  first  encounter- 
ing the  shores  of  Newfoundland;  but  Galvano  asserts 
that  the  first  landfall  of  Estevan  Gomez  was  Cuba, 
whence  he  followed  the  coast  to  Cape  Race.  Gomez 
is  credited  with  having  made  a  minute  explora- 
tion of  the  New  England  coast,  that  part  of  which, 
now  known  as  "Maine,"  being  afterward  especially 
designated  as  "the  land  of  Gomez."  On  this  voyage 
Gomez  had  along  with  him  several  vessels  which  he 
crowded  with  savages,  taking  them  along  to  Spain. 
Of  this,  Peter  Martyr  says :  "  Utriusque  sexus  homini- 
bus  navem  farcevit;"  but  other  writers  assume  that 
this  cargo  of  aborigines  was  disposed  of  in  Cuba, 
where  the  planters  were  much  in  need  of  slaves.  This 
ten  months'  voyage  of  Gomez  is  reversed  by  Herrera, 
who  makes  it  from  north  to  south.  Gomez  no  doubt 
had  many  and  profitable  conversations  with  the  elder 
Cabot,  for  he  may  be  said  to  have  taken  the  course 
of  the  Cabots  along  the  coast  of  Maine,  and  his 
minute  observation  of  its  broken  and  seductive  con- 
tours was  doubtless  the  result  of  this  friendship  be- 
tween the  Venetian  navigator  and  himself. 

In  the  latter  part  of  1568,  or  to  be  more  particular, 
in  October,  John  Hawkins,  an  English  explorer, 
found  himself  with  a  large  crew  about  the  shores  of 
Florida,  and  short  of  provisions.  In  his  emergency, 
lie  set  ashore,  somewhere  about  the  Gulf  of  Mexico, 


OLD   YORK  51 

a  hundred  of  his  men,  more  or  less,  and  summarily 
abandoned  them  to  their  own  resources.  It  was  a 
striking  illustration  of  the  scant  consideration  men 
of  those  days  held  for  their  own  kind.  In  these  days, 
such  an  act  would  be  promptly  dealt  with  in  the  courts 
of  criminal  procedure,  and  the  punishment  would  be 
swift  and  certain;  but  Hawkins  seemed  to  have  es- 
caped the  most  ordinary  censure.  It  was  the  first 
marooning  of  which  we  have  any  relation. 

Among  these,  was  one  Jolin  Ingram,  who,  with  two 
companions,  began  the  toilsome  and  perilous  journey 
toward  the  land  of  Cabot  and  Verazzano,  hundreds 
upon  hundreds  of  leagues  to  the  North.  They  made 
their  way  over  the  slender  trails  of  the  Indians,  and 
along  the  curving  shores  of  the  sea,  following  the 
course  of  the  stars  by  night  and  the  slanting  shadow 
of  the  sun  by  day,  subsisting  but  meagrely  upon 
succulent  roots  and  such  game  as  they  could  snare, 
the  guests  of  here  and  there  some  friendly  savage, 
the  prey  of  the  more  savage  wolf,  foot-sore  and  weary, 
ofttimes  disheartened,  drenched  with  storms  or  the 
waters  of  the  creeks  and  inlets  that  crossed  their 
pathway,  leaden-footed  with  the  ooze  and  slime  of 
the  marshes,  and  leaden-brained  with  the  odors  of  a 
luxuriant  and  decaying  vegetation.  Ever  they 
plodded  on  until  they  had  come  into  the  territory  of 
what  is  now  Massachusetts;  and  still  keeping  the 
smell  of  the  salty  sea  by  them,  they  threaded  the 
wildernesses  of  Maine  until  they  reached  the  fabled 
city  of  Noromhegua  somewhere  among  the  wilds  of 
the  Penobscot.    They  came  at  last  to  the  St.  Johns 


52  OLD   YORK 

River  where  they  found  a  French  vessel,  the  Gar- 
garine,  in  command  of  Captain  Champagne,  who 
must  have  been  a  sparkhng,  and  withal  jolly  sort  of 
a  fellow,  a  boon  companion,  and  a  generous.  Cham- 
pagne took  Ingram  aboard  his  ship,  and  soon  after 
that  the  English  wanderer  was  in  London,  where  he 
set  the  mouths  of  the  credulous  Londoners  agape 
with  the  story  of  his  adventures,  in  which  a  city  with 
roofs  of  gold  figured  largely,  and  which,  according  to 
Ingram's  geography,  was  in  the  Penobscot  country. 

As  one  goes  over  the  sands  of  York  to-day  he  may 
look  in  vain  for  Ingram's  footprints  along  the  marge 
of  the  sea,  and  on  the  rocks  of  Cape  Neddock  that 
reach  over  into  the  restless  waters  of  the  Atlantic; 
one  may  look  for  a  spectre  of  the  lone  figure  of  this 
plucky  adventurer  poised  upon  their  loftiest  outlook, 
scanning  the  sea  for  the  glimpse  of  a  friendly  sail  — 
a  darkly  animated  spot  —  against  the  distant  sky. 
Here  was  the  germ  of  a  wild  tale  to  which  that  of 
Robinson  Crusoe  is  a  mild  dilution. 

Undoubtedly  Ingram  saw  this  country  as  he  neared 
the  end  of  his  long  and  perilous  journey;  and  no 
doubt  his  lively  imagination,  and  the  relations  of 
his  experiences  among  the  wilds  of  this  new  world 
was  a  lively  stimulus  to  the  schemes  for  the  Eng- 
lish colonization  of  this  section  of  the  north  coast. 

It  was  almost  forty  years  after  this  that  Gosnold, 
1602,  had  sailed  away  from  Falmouth  in  the 
Concord,  and  following  the  track  of  Verazzano  had 
sighted  this  new  country,  somewhere  near  Casco 
Bay  —  he  gave  the  name  of  Northland  to  the  place. 


OLD   YORK 


53 


About  twenty-five  miles  south,  he  touched  land. 
This,  according  to  his  description,  was  Cape  Ned- 
dock.  Palfrey  says,  "  It  was  here  that  eight  Indians 
came  out  to  his  vessel  in  a  Basque-made  shallop, 
and  with  a  piece  of  chalk  drew  for  him  sketches  of 
the  coast."     Gosnold  says  from  this  place  he  went 


BOON    ISLAND    LIGHT 


to  Boon  Island,  and  thence  to  Cape  Cod.  He  was 
after  a  cargo  of  sassafras,  but  none  was  to  be  found 
at  Casco  or  Cape  Neddock.  He  found,  however,  an 
abundance  of  that  savory  root  at  Cape  Cod.  Sassa- 
fras was  believed  by  the  English  to  possess  great 
medicinal   virtues,   especially   as   a   diuretic.     After 


54 


OLD   YORK 


loading  his  vessel  with  sassafras  and  cedar,  he  sailed 
for  home,  making  a  very  expeditious  voyage.  The 
story  of  Pring's  subsequent  voyage,  1603,  to  Plym- 
outh, the  building  of  his  barricade,  and  the  attack 
of  the  Indians,  is  full  of  interest  to  the  lover  of  epi- 
sode, but  for  the  purpose  of  this  chapter,  it  is  of  little 
importance.  This  success  of  Pring's,  following  the 
romancing   of   Ingram,    created   a   ferment   of   sea- 


NORMANS    WOE 


going  activity.     Gosnold's  voyage  was  made  in  1602, 
almost  a  century  after  Verazzano;  Pring's  in  1603. 

De  Costa  says  Pring  planted  seed  to  test  the  soil, 
and  that  the  Indians  came  in  numbers  to  see  the 
white  men,  bringing  pipes  and  tobacco,  which  is  the 
first  mention  I  have  seen  of  there  being  such  com- 
modity in  these  parts.  This  was  two  years  before 
the  coming  of  Champlain,  and  ten  years  before  the 
Dutch  sailed  these  waters.    Seventeen  years  after. 


OLD   YORK 


55 


came  the  landing  of  the  Puritans  at  Plymouth;  but, 
between  the  Mayflower  and  the  Dutch,  "Captyne" 
John  Smith  indulged  in  the  sport  of  deep-sea  fishing 


off  these  shores^ 
and  he  was  quite 
dehghted  to  see 
"  twopence,  six- 
pence and  nine- 
pence  "  on  his 
hook  as  he  pulled 
it,  dripping, 
_  from    the  sea.    Smith 

made  a  map,  1614,  of 
New  England,  and  upon  it,  what  is  now  known  as 
York,  was  called  Boston.  Agamenticus  was  named 
"  Snadoun  Hill."  These  names,  however,  originated 
with    Prince  Charles.     Smith  was  the  first  to  apply 


56  OLD   YORK 

the  generic  title  of  New  England  to  the  surrounding 
country.  Smith  was  the  last  of  the  English  naviga- 
tors to  visit  this  immediate  locality.  The  coloniza- 
tion period  was  about  to  open,  under  the  auspices  of 
Popham  and  Gorges;  but  the  scene  of  their  unfortu- 
nate ventures  was  to  be  so  far  away  from  York,  that 
to  go  and  come  in  a  day's  sailing  would  leave  but 
little  time  for  either  morning  or  evening  chores  for 
the  dweller  in  that  vicinage. 

So  far  as  York  is  concerned,  the  period  of  its  dis- 
covery began  with  Cabot  and  ended  with  Smith; 
and  out  of  all  this  voyaging  of  Cabot,  of  Gosnold,  of 
Pring,  and  Smith,  and  later,  Weymouth,  comes  the 
vision  of  a  hirsute  starveling,  plunging  through  the 
Everglades  of  Florida,  or  threading  the  swamps  of 
the  Virginias,  or  hidden  among  the  shadowy  gloom 
of  New  England's  primeval  woods,  a  realm  of  ghostly 
imaginings,  of  dusk}'  spruces,  hoary  hemlocks,  and 
giant  pines,  the  silent  Bruids  of  an  unbroken  wilder- 
ness. It  comes  out  the  mists  of  the  centuries,  like 
an  apparition,  the  spectre  of    a  far-away  romance. 

A  pity  it  is,  that  Ingram  had  not  been  a  composite 
Linnffius  and  Audubon,  with  an  abundant  supply  of 
good  white  paper,  some  pencils,  and  brushes,  and 
a  box  of  Winsor  and  Newton's  colors,  so  he  might 
have  taken  notes  by  the  way.  What  treasures 
environed  his  lonely  journey,  as  he  followed  some 
savage  trail,  or  broke  out  into  the  sunlight  to  keep 
to  the  trend  of  the  sea  with  its  alternate  dazzling 
reaches  of  bleaching  sands,  and  buttressed  head- 
lands.    What    romances    of    Nature    were    trodden 


OLD   YORK  57 

iinder-foot  by  him,  and  what  secrets  of  vegetation, 
of  flora,  of  bird,  and  beast  discovered  he,  and  seeing, 
saw  not ! 

But  we  have  none  of  this. 

One  can  only  let  loose  the  reins  of  one's  imagina- 
tion to  riot  amid  so  great  a  surplus  of  riches,  to  pluck 
from  it  all  a  paltry  foolish  tale  of  a  Lost  City,  fit  only 
for  a  sixteenth  century  fisher-wife;  and  yet,  who 
can  weigh  the  influence  of  Ingram's  wild  imaginings 
and  boastful  vaporings  of  adventures  in  the  jungles 
of  the  New  World!  The  wondering  Londoners  be- 
lieved him,  and  that  was  sufficient  for  all  the  needs 
of  his  vanity.  Like  all  lies,  well  told  and  well  stuck 
to,  it  was  good  until  the  contrary  was  proven.  Just 
this  legend  of  a  fabled  city  is  left.  The  greed  for 
material  riches  barred  all  else  from  the  minds  of  this 
commercial  people.  Even  prebendary  Hakluyt,  the 
indefatigable  recorder  of  those  stirring  times,  is  silent 
as  to  all  except  the  glamour  of  this  Oriental  picture, 
which  Ingram  hung  against  the  sunset  fires  that  red- 
dened the  tops  of  the  Penobscot  woods. 

But  Ingram  nmst  have  been  a  man  of  more  than 
ordinary  resource  to  have  endured  so  severe  a  test. 
His  experience  seems  an  incredible  one  from  the 
present  point  of  view,  when  the  average  sportsman, 
with  all  the  equipment  that  modern  ingenuity  can 
supply,  once  away  from  his  camp  or  trail  in  the 
Katahdin  woods,  finds  himself  stricken  with  sudden 
terror  that  he  is  "lost,"  and,  perhaps  a  year  later, 
some  guide  stumbles  upon  his  remnants  rotting  amid 
the  ferns  under  the  mountain  shadows. 


58  OLD    YORK 

One  would  like  to  know  the  dreams  that  wove 
their  spectral  webs  in  his  tired  brain  as  he  slept  be- 
side the  rippling  waters  of  the  Merrimac,  or  within 
the  sound  of  the  narrow,  on-rushing  Cocheco.  We 
know  the  wonderful  dream  that  came  to  him  as  he 
drank  of  the  Penobscot  when  the  Wand  of  the  Wizard 
of  Norombegue  fell  upon  his  unwitting  shoulders. 
He  may  have  thought  himself  nigh  to  death  in  his 
possible  exhaustion,  and  the  vision  of  the  New  Je- 
rusalem may  have  come  to  him.     Who  knows,  for, 

"The  beaver  cut  his  timber 

With  patient  teeth  that  day, 
The  minks  were  fish-wards,  and  the  crows 
Surveyors  of  highway." 

Ingram  had  the  whole  world  to  himself.  He  was 
an  elder  Selkirk,  and  as  he  stood  upon  the  rocks  above 
the  Piscataquay  and  watched  and  nuised, 

"The  swift  stream  wound  away, 

Through  birches  and  scarlet  maples 
Flashing  in  foam  and  spray," 

to  wind  imder  the  shadows  of  Strawberry  Bank,  or 
spread  itself  out  over  the  yellow  marshes  of  the 
Kittery  shore.     And  then  the  speech  of  Saco  Falls  — 

"Down  the  sharp-horned  ledges 
Plunging  in  steep  cascade, 
Tossing  its  white-maned  waters 
Against  the  hemlock's  shade," 

with  only  the  sharp  cry  of  the  dipping  fish-hawk 
up-stream,  or  the  noiseless  sweep  of  the  white  gulls 


OLD    YORK  59 

above  the  gray  flats  below  with  the  salt  tide  at  its 
ebb. 

"No  shout  of  home-bound  reapers, 
No  vintage-song  he  heard, 
And  on  the  green  no  dancing  feet 
The  merrv  viohn  stirred." 

The  silence,  except  for  these  songs  of  Nature,  must 
have  been  magic  to  his  weary  body,  and  as  the  seal 
of  sleep  was  laid  upon  his  shag-guarded  eyes,  perhaps 
his  oblivion  was  mellowed  by  a  glimpse  of  what 
Keezar  saw,  when, 

"He  held  up  that  mystic  lapstone  —  " 

and  counted  the  coming  years  by  single  and  double 
decades, 

"And  a  marvelous  picture  mingled 
The  unlvnown  and  the  known. 

"Still  ran  the  stream  to  the  river. 
And  river  and  ocean  joined: 
And  there  were  the  bluffs  and  the  blue  sea-line 
And  the  cold  north  hills  behind. 

"But  the  mighty  forest  was  broken 
By  many  a  steepled  town. 
By  many  a  white-walled  farmhouse, 
And  many  a  garner  brown. 

"Turning  a  score  of  mill-wheels, 
The  stream  no  more  ran  free; 
White  sails  on  the  winding  river, 
White  sails  on  the  far-off  sea." 


60 


OLD   YORK 


If  Ingram  discerned  the  prophecies  of  any  of  these 
things,  there  is  no  evidence  that  he  ever  mentioned 
them  to  others;  or,  it  may  have  been  that  the  more 
dazzhng  vision  that  came  to  him  by  the  mystic  tide 
of  the  Penobscot  banished  it  from  his  mind.  But 
had  he  been  with  me  on  a  summer  day  not  long  since, 
it  would  have  puzzled  him  to  have  recalled  the  river 
that  flowed  at  my  feet  as  the  Piscataquay  of  his 
time,  with  Strawberry  Bank  unnamed  and  unin- 
habited but  by  the  muskrat  and  the  nomad  crow. 


ACCOMENTICUS 


^^^-'-fT"' y^t^:— ^■•'''^:^- 


^ 


SEWELL'S    BRID3E 

ACCOMENTICUS 

ERE,  about  old  York, 
one  imwJttinglj^  breathes 
the  air  of  ancient  thhigs. 
One  of  tlie  Sleepy  Hol- 
lows of  the  Maine  coast, 
this  Bra'boat  Harbor 
country,  with  its  flats 
bare  at  low  tide  and  its 
sweep  of  marsh  grasses 
bendmg  under  the  salty 
winds,  is  prolific  in  sug- 
tions  of  old  wharves  and 
warehouses,  not  as  yet  entirely 
eliminated  from  the  landscape ;  for 
some  outline  of  their  old  foundations  may  be 
traced  by  the  diligent  observer;  and  here  was  the 
scene  of  one  of  the  earliest  endeavors  at  colonization 
along  this  section  of  the  coast.  Across  this  slen- 
derly-spun thread  of  blue  water,  is  "  old  Ketterie," 

63 


64  OLD   YORK 

the  once  bailiwick  of  the  Pepperrells,  and  this  tongue, 
or  point  of  land  that  reaches  out  into  the  outer 
mouth  of  the  Piscataqua  River,  was,  in  the  days  of 
old,  Champernowne's  Island.  Away  to  the  "  s'utheas  " 
is  Appledore;  and  ten  miles  out  to  sea,  after  night- 
fall, Boon  Island  Light  throws  its  ruddy  gleam  land- 
ward to  greet  the  shore  lights  of  Old  York. 

Here  is  a  veritable  Land  of  Romance;  for  mider  the 
shadows  of  old  Agamenticus,  with  the  glory  of  the 
sea  massed  against  its  base,  and  glimmering  as  far 
as  the  eye  can  see  to  eastward,  flecked  with  the  snow- 
white  sails  of  the  toilers  of  the  sea,  is  the  site  of  the 
first  incorporated  city  of  America  —  Gorgeana.  There 
is  nothing  mythical  in  this  relation,  though  at  this 
day  its  walls  seem  as  far  away  as  those  of  Carthage, 
and  their  founder  may  well  be  called  the  Father  of 
New  England. 

As  one  follows  the  ruddy  gleam  of  Boon  Island 
Light  farther  and  still  farther  to  seaward,  one  goes 
over  a  wide  trail  of  dancing  waters  to  the  days  when 
this  pleasant  country  was  the  roaming  ground  of 
the  great  Etchemin  family,  and  when  the  Gorges 
of  Wraxhall  ]\Lanor,  somewhere  about  1566,  were 
pursuing  their  peaceful  English  ways.  The  initial 
voyages  of  discovery  had  been  made.  The  leaven 
©f  colonization  was  awaiting  the  virile  touch  of  Cham- 
plain  and  Capt.  John  Smith.  It  was  about  the  last- 
mentioned  date,  about  the  beginning  of  the  Eliza- 
bethan era,  that  the  old  Clerkenwell  records  mark 
the  birth  of  Ferdinando  Gorges.  One  first  gets  a 
glimpse  of  this  man  when  Elizabeth  was  sending  her 


OLD   YORK  65 

English  contingents  over  to  Holland  to  assist  Wil- 
liam the  Silent  against  the  Spaniards.  Young 
Gorges  was  one  of  Elizabeth's  captains,  who  served 
in  that  campaign.  This  was  in  1587,  and  Gorges 
had  hardly  passed  his  majority.  His  education  is 
surrounded  in  obscurity,  though  others  of  the  family 
were  educated  at  Oxford.  A  year  after  he  had  gone 
to  the  Holland  wars,  Gorges  was  a  prisoner  at  Lisle. 
The  following  year  he  was  serving  in  France,  getting 
a  severe  wound  at  the  Siege  of  Paris. 

The  Spaniards  defeated  on  the  ocean,  England 
began  a  series  of  marine  reprisals,  and  in  1592,  this 
same  Gorges  is  a  member  of  the  Commission  to  take 
charge  of  the  "great  store  of  spoyle,"  which  resulted 
from  this  predaceous  policy.  After  this,  Gorges 
was  engaged  in  the  Continental  Wars.  In  1595, 
he  was  in  charge  of  defences  then  being  erected  at 
Plymouth.  Upon  the  completion  of  these  fortifi- 
cations, he  became  their  commander.  From  this 
somewhat  important  post,  for  the  war  with  Spain 
was  still  on,  he  joined  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  in  an 
expedition  against  that  country,  which  was  pre- 
destined to  disaster  and  disappointment.  Gorges, 
by  this,  had  been  knighted  by  his  queen,  from 
whom  he  received  a  commission  for  the  defence 
of  Devonshire.  Gorges  was  a  comparatively  young 
man  at  this  time,  but  evidently  possessing  to  an 
uncommon  degree  the  confidence  of  his  superiors. 
But  these  were  stirring  times.  Ireland  was  in  a 
ferment  of  discontent  and  on  the  verge  of  rebel- 
hon;  Spain  threatened  England  by  land  and  sea; 


66  OLD   YORK 

France  had  slipped  the  leash  of  her  alliance  with 
England;  Essex  was  conspiring;  and  the  smell  of 
smoke  was  upon  Gorges'  garments.  The  latter 
went  to  prison  for  a  year,  and  Essex  went  to  the 
block. 

With  the  death  of  Elizabeth,  came  the  accession 
of  James.  Gorges  was  once  more  in  the  royal  favor. 
The  leaven  of  colonization  was  about  to  find  its 
"three  measures  of  meal."  An  impetus  to  develop 
the  country  of  Cabot  was  slowly  acquiring  some- 
thing of  motion.  The  boimdary  of  almost  a  century 
of  inertia  had  been  passed  when  Du  Monts  had 
weathered  the  inclemency  of  a  winter  on  the  St. 
Croix,  1604-5.  Gorges,  in  his  desire  for  wealth  and 
a  larger  influence,  was  revolving  schemes,  which,  if 
successful,  could  not  but  be  of  great  profit;  and  it  was, 
with  these  things  in  mind,  he  had  interested  Arundel 
and  a  few  other  choice  spirits,  to  join  with  him  in 
despatching  Weymouth  along  the  trail  of  Du  Monts 
in  the  spring  of  1605.  In  the  early  summer,  Wey- 
mouth had  made  his  landfall  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Cape  Cod.  He  found  the  season  at  its  flood,  and 
no  doubt  the  experiences  of  Weymouth  and  his  com- 
panions, on  this  personally-conducted  tour  to  strange 
lands,  were  of  the  most  delightful  character.  The 
days  were  softly  drowsy  in  their  warmth;  the  nights, 
cool  and  refreshing;  the  skies  were  mild  and  colored 
with  seductive  prophecy;  while  the  perfume-laden 
winds  blew  offshore,  vibrant  with  the  songs  of  the 
pine  woods  that  made  the  dusky  wall  that  parted 
the  blue  of  the  sea  from  that  of  the  sky.     New  scenes 


OLD   YORK 


67 


of  fascinating  charm  broke  constantly  upon  the 
vision  of  these  adventurers  with  every  newly-dis- 
covered bay  or  inlet  as  they  kept  the  trend  of  the 
sinuous  shore  eastward. 

As  he  dropped  anchor  off  the  wood-rimmed  coast 
of  Norombegua,  it  is  evident  that  hereabout  he  found 
much  that  was  attractive.     In  fact,  it  was  this  imme- 


THE    MARSHES 

diate  locality  that  formed  the  basis  of  his  report  and 
comprised  its  material  substance;  and  he  carried 
hence  the  first  embassy  from  the  Etchemins  to  the 
English  —  five  stalwart  Indians  —  three  of  whom  be- 
came the  guests  of  Gorges,  while  Popham  assured 
the  entertainment  of  the  other  two.  These  natives 
were  treated  with  grave  consideration,  and  upon 
becoming  familiar  with  the  English  vernacular,  they 
began  to  teach  Gorges  the  geography  of  the  Etchemin 
country. 


68  OLD   YORK 

The  belief  in  a  northwest  passage  to  the  Moluccas 
and  the  treasures  of  Zipango  and  Cathay  were  aban- 
doned. These  Indians  described  a  continent,  a 
country  of  great  lakes,  rivers,  mountain- chains,  of 
interminable  woods;  a  country  of  widely-extended 
and  diversified  character,  and  whose  story  was  not 
likely  to  suffer  at  the  hands  of  these  rude  sons  of 
Nature,  whose  language,  peculiarly  poetic,  was  that 
of  Nature  herself,  and  whose  lively  imaginations 
enabled  them  to  see 

"God  in  the  clouds 
And  hear  him  in  the  winds." 

Gorges  says  the  coming  hither  of  these  Abenake 
"must  be  acknowledged  the  means  under  God  of 
putting  on  foot  and  giving  life  to  all  our  plantations." 
This  devout  impression  on  the  mind  of  Gorges  was 
never  lessened,  but  rather  strengthened,  as  the  years 
grew. 

April  10,  1606,  was  organized  a  definite  movement 
for  the  colonization  of  America.  It  was  known 
as  the  Plymouth,  or  New  England  Company.  In 
1609,  the  renewal  of  its  powers  extended  its  juris- 
diction from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  the  terri- 
tory being  bounded  on  the  north  by  the  claims  of 
the  French  in  Nova  Scotia,  and  on  the  south,  by  the 
somewhat  uncertain  limitations  of  the  Hudson  River 
country.  Gorges  may  be  considered  the  first  land 
promoter  of  these  parts,  seconded  by  Chief  Justice 
Popham.  Gorges  at  once  despatched  a  ship  to  the 
coast  of  Maine  to  settle  the  matter  of  location  for  his 


OLD   YORK  69 

colony,  which  was  to  set  out  later.  Henry  Challon 
sailed  this  vessel,  but  veering  too  far  to  the  south- 
ward, he  fell  in  with  the  Spaniards,  who  made  a  prey 
of  his  equipment.  Martin  Pring,  despatched  by 
Popham  shortly  after,  met  with  better  success,  but 
the  details  of  Pring's  voyage  have  little  reference  to 
the  fortunes  of  York. 

From  this  on  to  the  sailing  of  the  May-flower,  the 
work  of  colonizing  these  shores  had  been  of  a  desul- 
tory character.  The  nucleus  of  the  first  permanent 
settlement  in  the  New  England  of  Smith,  was  formed 
in  the  latter  part  of  that  year,  but  not  where  it  was 
originally  intended.  But  for  the  treachery  of  Jones, 
the  Mayflower's  sailing-master,  the  Pilgrims  would 
have  settled  at  the  mouth  of  the  Hudson  River. 
Jones  was  paid  in  good  Dutch  money  to  land  the 
Leyden  contingent  anywhere  else  but  there,  and  he 
kept  his  contract  by  dropping  anchor  off  the  inhos- 
pitable shores  of  Cape  Cod.  The  fishing-stations 
from  Stratton's  Island,  eastward,  could  hardly  be 
classed  as  settlements. 

The  Virginias,  under  the  influential  and  wealthy 
London  Company,  were  prosperous,  but  the  Plym- 
outh Company  had  so  far  been  an  ill-starred  enter- 
prise. Gorges  asked  for  an  extension  of  his  Com- 
pany's powers,  to  be  jealously  opposed  by  the  London 
Company,  which  had  the  support  of  Parliament. 
This  opposition  of  Parliament  to  the  projects  of  its 
royal  master  had  become  so  irritating  that  James 
dissolved  that  body,  sending  its  members  home  under 
disfavor  —  what  part  was  not  sent  to  the  Tower.     It 


70  OLD   YORK 

was  an  impolitic  proceeding  on  the  part  of  James, 
and  ultimately,  a  disastrous  one  to  the  Gorges  inter- 
ests, although  the  powers  asked  for  by  the  Plymouth 
Company  were  granted  and  confirmed  by  royal  edict. 
With  the  death  of  James,  Charles  came  to  the  throne, 
who  extended  his  favor  to  Gorges  as  had  his  pre- 
decessor, Charles  beheaded,  and  the  Commonwealth 
of  Cromwell  established,  it  was  remembered  that 
James  had  been  master,  and  Gorges,  man,  and  the 
obloquy  born  of  kingly  tyranny  and  a  like  royal 
insolence,  fell,  a  natural  legacy,  to  the  beneficiaries 
of  the  royal  favor.  Gorges  was  a  notable  instance, 
and  upon  him  in  part  were  visited  the  punishments 
deemed  to  be  due  his  royal  master,  by  a  fanatic 
populace. 

But,  to  go  back  to  the  dissolution  of  Parliament, 
that  obstructive  body  out  of  his  way,  James  char- 
tered the  "The  Coimcil  Established  in  Plymouth,  in 
the  County  of  Devon,  for  the  Planting,  Ruling,  Order- 
ing, and  Governing  of  New  England  in  America." 
Its  patentees  were  largely  peers,  as  many  as  thirteen 
of  them,  at  least,  including  Warwick,  Lennox,  Hamil- 
ton, and  Sheffield.  All  were  of  notable  influence,  and 
distinguished  in  their  support  of  the  king.  This 
charter  bore  the  date  of  November  3,  1620,  and  it 
was  in  the  bleak  and  wintry  days  of  December  of 
that  year  that  Jones,  the  Mayflower  skipper,  had 
dropped  his  cargo  of  human  freight  on  the  sands  of 
Massachasetts  Bay.  Discovering  themselves  within 
the  limits  of  the  Gorges  patent,  they  made  haste  to 
obtain  "such  freedom  and  liberty  as  might  stand 


OLD   YORK  71 

to  their  likings,"  which  was  confirmed  to  them  by  a 
patent  to  one  John  Pierce  and  others,  by  the 
Plymouth  Council,  of  which  Gorges  was  the  moving 
spirit. 

At  this  time,  John  Mason  was  governor  of  English 
Portsmouth,  and  becoming  interested  in  this  new 
country  he  had  acquired  a  land  grant  of  territory, 
now  a  part  of  New  Hampshire.  He  joined  his  inter- 
ests with  Gorges,  with  the  result  that  they  procured 
from  the  Plymouth  Comicil,  of  which  both  were 
members,  a  patent  covering  all  that  territory  between 
the  Kennebec  River  on  the  north,  and  the  Merrimac, 
on  the  south,  extending  inland  sixty  miles.  This 
patent  included  all  islands  within  two  leagues  of  the 
mainland.  It  was  in  1625,  that  the  death  of  James  I 
occurred,  but  Charles  I,  his  successor,  was  no  less 
friendly  to  the  Plymouth  Company.  The  Plymouth 
Colony  had  taken  permanent  root  in  the  meantime, 
and  had  attracted  to  itself  a  strong  working  con- 
tingent. 

Richard  Vines,  who  had  made  a  previous  voyage 
to  the  mouth  of  the  Saco  River,  where  he  had  win- 
tered, had  returned  to  that  place  and  had  begmi  the 
founding  of  a  colony.  David  Thompson  had  built 
a  "stone  house"  at  Odiorne's  Point,  in  what  is  now 
Rye.  Edward  Hilton  had  pitched  his  tent  on  the 
banks  of  the  Piscataqua  at  what  is  now  Dover,  and 
was  planting  corn  across  the  river  in  what  is  now 
Berwick.  The  Isles  of  Shoals  had  become  a  con- 
siderable fishing  station  where  William  Pepperrell 
had  begun,  or  was  about  to  begin,  his  notable  career. 


72  OLD   YORK 

George  Richmon  had  finished  his  voyaging  to  Rich- 
mon's  Island,  where  Walter  Bagnall  had  opened 
a  trading-station.  Edward  Godfrey  was  at  York 
Harbor;  Richard  Bonython  at  Saco;  Thomas  Cam- 
mock  at  Black  Point;  Thomas  Pmxhas  at  New 
Meadows  River,  now  Brunswick;  Jolin  Stratton  was 
at  Cape  Porpoise. 

With  this  somewhat  wide,  yet  sparse,  distribu- 
tion of  settlers.  Gorges  and  Mason  had  dissolved 
partnership.  Mason  retained  the  territory  south  of 
the  Piscataqua,  while  Gorges  retained  the  country 
on  the  opposite  bank.  Mason  had  begun  the  build- 
ing of  mills  at  Newichawannick,  the  nucleus  of  a 
prosperous  settlement,  when  his  death  occurred, 
which  practically  terminated  the  further  progress 
of  this  settlement. 

In  1635,  June  7,  the  Plymouth  Council  surren- 
dered its  charter,  and  while  the  powers  of  the  old 
company  were  never  renewed  by  the  unstable  Charles, 
Gorges  was,  in  a  way,  protected  in  his  rights  in  New 
Somersetshire,  as  he  called  his  New  England  posses- 
sions; and  so  it  came  about  that  William  Gorges 
came  over  in  1636  and  established  his  paraphernalia 
of  government  at  Saco.  Three  years  later,  Gorges 
had  prevailed  upon  Charles  to  grant  the  charter 
which  created  the  prior  interests  of  Gorges  into  the 
Palatinate  of  Maine,  but  too  late  for  him  to  put  into 
its  administration  of  affairs  needful  to  its  prosper- 
ous growth  and  importance,  and  especially  its  in- 
tended active  espousal  of  the  Episcopal  Propaganda, 
the    vigor    necessary    to    overcome    even    ordinary 


OLD   YORK  73 

obstacles,  of  which  the  tearing  down  of  the  Puritan 
fences  about  the  Massachusetts  Bay  Province,  and 
the  feeding  of  the  Episcopal  herds  among  its  ver- 
dant fields  was  one.  Gorges  was  getting  along  in 
years,  and  his  means  even  then  were  sadly  depleted 
by  his  New  England  ventures.  The  times  in  Eng- 
land were  tinged  with  uncertainty.  Charles  was 
unpopular,  and  the  legacy  of  the  royal  insolence  and 
intolerance  left  by  James,  had  been  put  at  interest 
by  the  former  at  whirlwind  rates  that  culminated  in 
the  triple  disasters  of  Marston  Moor,  Edgehill,  and 
Naseby. 

With  the  downfall  of  Charles  and  the  ascendancy 
of  Cromwell,  the  grant  to  Gorges  was  declared  by 
Parliament  to  be  invalid,  but  not,  however,  before 
Thomas  Gorges  was  made  governor,  1640,  of  the 
Province  of  Maine,  and  on  the  25th  of  June,  of  which 
year  he  had  established  his  Court  of  Judicature,  and 
had  incorporated  the  city  of  Gorgeana.  Three  years 
later,  the  influence  of  Gorges  ceased  to  be  a  factor 
in  New  England  affairs.  In  1643,  the  title  of  the 
Episcopal  Gorges  passed  to  the  Puritan,  Alexander 
Rigby,  who  had  purchased  the  Lygonia  Grant.  So 
long  as  the  English  Commonwealth  stood,  the  Rigby 
titles  were  effective,  but  with  the  restoration,  Charles 
II  reconfirmed  the  Gorges  titles  which  had  been 
sustained  by  the  English  courts,  and  Massachusetts 
Bay  was  ousted  from  her  fourteen  years'  occupation 
of  Maine.  Three  years  later,  Massachusetts  had 
acquired  the  Gorges  title  from  his  heir,  and  the 
tables  were  promptly  turned,  and  the  Puritans  were, 


74  OLD   YORK 

at  last,  by  the  astuteness  of  Governor  Leverett,  able 
to  pluck  the  thorn  of  Episcopalianism  from  the  Puri- 
tan side.  This  is  the  story  of  Sir  Ferdinando  Gorges, 
whose  ambitions  were  great,  and  whose  kindliness 
toward  the  Pilgrims  is  an  index  of  his  greatness  of 
character. 

According  to  Willis,  a  settlement  was  begun  here 
on  York  River  as  early  as  1632,  by  Edward  Godfrey, 


but  it  must  have  been  prior  to  that  date  by  two  or 
three  years.  York  is  said  to  have  been  settled  as 
early  as  1629,  permanently,  and  by  Godfrey,  who, 
says  he,  was  the  first  to  open  up  the  York  lands.  He 
built  his  house  near  the  mouth  of  the  river.  In  his 
petition  to  the  General  Court  of  October  30,  1654,  he 
sets  the  date  as  1630.  The  site  of  his  house  is  un- 
known, but  one  may  safely  say  "near  its  mouth;" 
for  these  settlers  at  the  beginning  were  fond  of  the 
openings  along  the  coast,  and  York  Harbor,  even 
in  the  days  of  Godfrey,  must  have  possessed  suffi- 


OLD   YORK  •      75 

cient  charm  to  have  won  the  heart  of  the  most  pro- 
saic. Godfrey,  Hke  his  compeers,  had  a  proper 
appreciation  of  water-carriage,  and  would  natm-ally 
choose  a  location  easily  reached  by  the  shipping  of 
the  times.  Doubtless,  he  had  spied  out  the  land 
before  1630,  and  had  become  familiar  with  its  pos- 
sibilities, for  he  had  been  at  Piscataqua  several  years 
as  agent  for  the  Laconia  Company.  Others  fol- 
lowed him  to  York  in  considerable  numbers,  and  as 
they  came,  the  cabin  of  the  settler  began  to  reach 
into  the  wilderness  up  river  in  the  search  for  the  most 
available  locations.  This  river  was  known  as  the 
Agamenticus,  as  well  as  the  York;  and  a  saw-mill 
was  shipped  hither  by  Gorges  and  Mason  in  1634, 
with  a  mill-man  to  set  up  its  machinery  and  to  get 
it  into  "running  order."  The  Indian  name  of  the 
river  was  Ailghemak-ti-kees,  the  ancient  designation 
of  the  Sacoes.  According  to  Bullard,  it  was  to  be 
translated,  the  Snow-shoes  River,  taking  its  name 
from  the  pond  from  which  it  derives  its  source,  and 
the  shape  of  which  the  Sacoes  likened  to  the  shape 
of  a  snow-shoe.  Ligonia  was  adjudged  not  to  be  a 
part  of  the  Maine  province.  Godfrey  was  elected 
governor  of  the  western  part  of  Maine,  and  the  first 
court  under  his  administration  was  held  at  Gorgeana 
in  July  of  the  same  year. 

In  time  Godfrey  returned  to  England,  where,  im 
poverished,  he  was  put  into  a  debtor's  prison,  and 
finally  died  in  great  poverty. 

Here,  at  York,  one  may  dream  away  the  sunlit 
hours  to  the  music  of  the  sea;  or  revel,  under  the 


76 


OLD   YORK 


shadows  of  the  old  York  ehns,  in  the  visions  w-liich 
throng  the  story  of  the  past,  and  which  come  to  one 
in  whatever  direction  the  eye  may  turn.  Whether 
afoot  or  horseback,  an  ancient  roof-tree,  liere  or  there, 
weaves  its  magic  spell,  and  the  broad,  smooth  high- 
ways change  to  the  blazed  saddle-path,  or  lightly- 
trodden  trail  of  the  Indian  through  the  underbrush 


YORK    RIVER 


of  the  mitamed  forest ;  or  one  sees  the  lone  horse  and 
its  rider,  following  a  long  stretch  of  sea-sands  glim- 
mering in  the  sun,  where  every  flood  of  the  tide  irons 
the  hoof-marks  smooth  again,  until  every  hieroglyph 
of  footprint  of  man  or  beast  is  washed  clear  from 
this  page  of  Nature. 

What  days  those  were,  when  one's  nearest  neighbor 
was  miles  away!  AVhen  the  rugged  settler  "  backed  " 
his  cow-hide  bag  of  corn  to  some  rude  mill,  like  that 


OLD  YORK  77 

of  John  Fickermg's,  who  set  his  clumsy  rough-picked 
mill-stones  awhir  to  awake  the  slumberous  glooms 
of  Accomenticus  River  in  1701.  This  was  not  an  un- 
common occurrence,  and  whose  mill  ground  so 
coarsely  that  it  was  said  the  meal  "  had  to  be  sifted 
through  a  ladder." 

Neighbors,  indeed!     But  what  neighbor  so  enter- 
taining as  he  who  fed  the  wide-mouthed  hopper,  or 
caught  the  hot  meal  as  it  dropped  into  the  long  meal- 
box,  feeling  its  fineness  with  an  expert  touch,  his 
face   aglow  with   kindly  interest;   for   here   all   the 
gossip  current  was  on  tap,  and  the  miller  liked  a  bit 
of  harmless  chat  as  well  as  other  folk!     I  can  see  the 
old  Pickering  mill  perched  above  its  rude  dam  of 
logs  that  stopped  for  a  little  the  flood  of  the  slender 
stream  on  its  way  to  meet  the  salt  tide  as  it  came 
beating  in  from  the  Isles  of  Shoals,  hiding  the  glisten- 
ing flats  that  lay  below  a  stretch  of  grassy  marge. 
The  mill-pond  lies  asleep  in  the  drowsy  shadows  of 
mid-afternoon.     The   shag   of   the   hemlocks   on   its 
banks,  reflected  in  its  pellucid  depths,  makes  the 
broidered  lashes  to  this  one  of  Nature's  half-shut 
eyes  so  lazily  upturned  to  the  sky.     One  can  hear 
the  water  rushing  out  the  leaky  pen-stock;  and  the 
plash  of  the  paddles,  on  the  under-shot  wheel  some- 
where in  the  dripping  cavern  under  the  old    mill, 
among  the  huge  mossy  timbers,  that  was  always  a 
place  of  awesome  mystery,  marks  the  time  of  the 
miller's  song.     Below,  the  rough  boulders  are  strewn 
amidstream,  from  edge  to  edge,  around  which  the 
water  swirls  and  writhes,  its  liquid  lips  rimmed  with 


78 


OLD   YORK 


foam,  until  caught  in  some  tremulous  eddy,  it  stops, 
and  then,  with  a  shiver  of  exaltation,  it  races  away 
to  the  smooth  levels  of  the  marshes.  Over  the  dam 
falls  a  thin  wide  ribbon  that  catches  all  the  hues  of 
sky  and  wood,  an  endless  ribbon,  for  the  loom  that 
weaves  this  incomparable  fabric  will  stop  only  when 
the  springs  of  Accomenticus  run  dry.  And  the  mill- 
pond,  —  above  the  sheen  of  this  dye-pot  of  brilliant 
emerald  hung  the  old  mill;  and,  below,  was  another, 
its  roof  in  the  water,  in  the  gray  sides  of  which  were 


^r 


THE    MILL-DAM 


little  square  windows,  no  larger  than  a  ship's  port- 
hole, that  looked  out  upon  this  mosaic  of  color,  each 
wooden  casing  a  rude  frame  to  hold  an  untranslatable 
poem  of  Nature. 

On  the  hither  side,  a  narrow  door,  with  its  hood  of 
rough  slabs,  where  through  the  idle  hours  the  miller 
drowsed  i'  the  sun,  opened  out  upon  the  clearing; 


OLD   YORK  79 

and  here  was  the  horse-block  for  goodwife  when  she 
came  astride  Dobbin,  her  bag  of  grist  thrown  a  la 
pillion  across  the  baciv  of  the  patient  animal. 

Then  the  stones  began  to  sing  a  low  tremulous  mon- 
ody that  drifted  out  the  little  windows,  and  that  was 
lost  among  the  somnolent  leafage  of  the  verdant  tide 
that  ran  like  a  sea  at  flood  to  the  crown  of  Accomen- 
ticus  Hill.     With  the  grinding,  the  goodwife's  tongue 

"Marked  the  rhythm,  and  kept  the  time," 

tipped  with,  perchance,  a  fillip  of  coarse  wit,  or  some 
tragic  tale  of  wolfish  raid  upon  the  paddock;  for  the 
wolves  wxre  so  aggressive  in  those  days  that  the 
province  paid  at  one  time  a  bounty  of  ten  dollars  for 
a  single  shaggy  jowl  crowned  with  a  long  slant  fore- 
head flanked  by  a  pair  of  lean  crop-ears.  And  were 
it  not  a  story  of  wolves,  perchance  some  Burdett  of 
unsavory  reputation  might  give  some  excuse  for 
gossip.  In  1640,  one  Burdett,  expelled  from  Exeter, 
came  here  and  began  to  preach  without  authority; 
but,  it  was  not  for  long,  as  the  York  court  had  him 
"punished  for  lewdness,"  with  the  result  that  he 
betook  himself  to  more  congenial  fields.  Such  hap- 
penings were  not  uncommon  at  a  time  when  the  Isles 
of  Shoals,  wholly  manned  by  fishermen,  was  forbidden 
to  the  softer  sex. 

Here  is  a  quaint  reminder  of  those  days,  in  the  fol- 
lowing memorial  presented  to  the  court  at  York  in 
the  year  1647. 

"The  humble  petition  of  Richard  Cutts  and  John 
Cutting,  that  contrary  to  an  act  or  order  of  the  court 


80  OLD   YORK 

which  says,  '  no  woman  shall  Uve  upon  the  Isle  of 
Shoals/  John  Reynolds  has  his  wife  thither  with  an 
intention  to  live  here,  and  abide.  .  .  .  Your  peti- 
tioners therefore  pray  that  the  act  of  the  Court  may 
be  put  in  execution  for  the  removal  of  all  women; 
also  the  goats  and  the  swine." 

Order  was  issued  to  said  Reynolds  to  remove  his 
goats  and  swine  in  twenty  days;  and  as  to  "the  re- 
moval of  his  wife,"  it  was  "thought  fit  by  the  Court, 
that  if  no  further  complaint  come  against  her,  she 
may  enjoy  the  company  of  her  husband." 

This  prohibition  of  the  court  was  a  general  one. 
The  ethics  of  domestic  obligation  and  domestic  seclu- 
sion were  somewhat  loosely  strung,  and  the  basis 
of  so  sweeping  a  prohibition  was  that  the  women 
were  "owned  by  the  men  in  as  many  shares  as  a 
boat,"  —  a  most  lamentable  condition  of  things  from 
any  point  of  view,  and  indicating  a  low  state  of  moral- 
ity. It  affords  a  scathing  reflection  upon  the  indiffer- 
ence of  the  times  to  all  individual  restraint,  honesty, 
and  observance  of  personal  rights.  These  men  were 
fishermen,  illiterate,  as  well  as  brutal,  in  all  their  in- 
stincts. Their  ways  were  rough,  uncouth.  Their 
isolation  had  much  to  do  with  this.  Society  was 
limited.  Among  the  middle  class  were  few  ameni- 
ties. The  women  were  not  of  the  tender,  clinging 
kind  to  grace  the  fore-room  on  state  occasions,  but 
rather  for  the  rugged  uses  which  the  early  settler  and 
pioneer,  under  the  most  strenuous  conditions  imag-  ' 
inable  of  daily  living,  were  compelled  to  combat 
and  overcome.     She  was  an  active  partner  whose 


OLD   YORK  81 

contribution  to  the  common  capital  was  limited 
only  by  the  ]30wer  of  her  endurance.  These  men 
and  women  who  felled  forests,  opened  up  clearings 
and  laid  the  foundations  for  the  fortunes  of  a  later 
civilization,  were  not  of  those  whose  status  in  the 
home  country  was  assured,  but  rather  the  part  of  an 
element  of  whicli  the  English  at  home  were  in  many 
instances  glad  to  be  well  rid  of.  They  were  ser- 
vants, hirelings,  who,  once  here,  left  their  masters 
upon  one  pretext  and  another,  from  time  to  time, 
to  "squat,"  or  in  many  cases,  procure  grants  of  land 
to  themselves.  With  them,  might  was  right,  and 
an  miruly  set  they  were !  No  wonder  towns  reserved 
the  right  to  pass  upon  the  qualifications  of  a  new- 
comer to  citizenship.  It  became  a  barrier  not  lightly 
to  be  crossed;  and  evil-doers  were  summarily  dealt 
with,  and  after  a  fashion  that  would  be  noisily  de- 
cried in  these  more  lenient  days.  The  whipping- 
post, the  stocks,  the  pillory,  and  the  ducking-stool, 
were  rough  chastisements  for  minor  offences;  but 
such  were  necessary.  Our  forefathers  were  wise  in 
their  generation. 

Nowadays,  one  is  easily  possessed  of  the  spell  of 
peace  and  contentment  that  everywhere  prevails. 
Never  was  a  people  swept  so  rapidly  along  by  the 
current  of  events  as  these  descendants  of  the  old 
settlers  of  York,  approximately  speaking.  The  old 
days  are  far  away.  The  old  traditions  are  cher- 
ished by  the  few.  Only  as  they  are  made  attractive, 
or  invested  with  some  charm  of  relation,  will  they 
survive  the  strenuous  life  of  to-day. 


82  OLD   YORK 

Here,  along  the  ways  of  one's  going  up  and  down 
these  roads  of  York,  are  the  colors  of  a  perfect  land- 
scape of  sea,  of  sky,  and  shore.  Inland  the  domes 
of  the  woodlands  suggest  solid  texture  and  a  grace- 
ful contour.  They  are  upreared  into  huge  windrows 
of  verdancy  that  topple  over  the  scarps  of  the  adja- 
cent hills,  to  fade  away  with  vanishing  lines  into  the 
hazy  indistinctness  of  a  limitless  perspective,  as  these 
phalanxes  of  verdurous  uplands  close  up,  or  break 
away  into  wide-open  spaces  of  fertile  farming-lands, 
field,  meadow,  and  marsh,  with  here  and  there  a 
low-pitched  roof  —  square  patches  of  butternut, 
which  the  hand  of  man  has  added  to  the  larger  garb 
of  Nature.  This  is  the  handiwork  of  man.  The 
pioneer  made  all  this  possible.  But  how  different 
is  all  this  from  the  wild  luxuriance  of  tree  and  vine 
of  the  days  of  Pring's  and  Smith's  voyaging  up  and 
down  the  coast. 

Pring,  1603,  was  probably  the  first  to  land  upon 
the  shores  of  Piscataqua,  while  Smith  touched  at 
the  Isles  of  Shoals  nine  years  after  Du  Monts  saw 
them.  Smith  came  after  Pring,  when  the  codfish 
were  so  plentiful  that  they  "staled"  his  ships.  He 
named  these  islands  that  now  constitute  the  town 
of  Appledore,  Smith  Islands.  Isles  of  Shoals  is  cer- 
tainly a  more  euphonious  and  poetic  appellation.  I 
am  glad  someone  changed  it.  Appledore  is  better 
still.  There  is  a  fruitiness  about  Appledore  that 
suggests  the  idyllic  summer  resort,  to  invest  these 
outlying  reefs  and  ribs  of  seaweed  with  fascinating 
charm  akin  to  that  of  old  York  itself,  the  first  settle- 


OLD   YORK 


83 


ment  of  which,  according  to  Godfrey,  was  on  York 
River,  in  1629. 

York  was  not  always  known  by  that  name.  On 
Capt.  Jolin  Smith's  map  (1514)  here  was  the  first 
Boston  on  the  New  England  coast.  It  was  the  old 
Quack  of  Indian  nomenclature,  some  annalists  have 


BARN    COVE 


it,  but  Levett  says  otherwise;  and  this  river  of  York 
was  the  Accomenticus  of  the  aborigine.  It  was  here 
the  Queen  of  Quack  and  her  husband,  along  with 
the  little  prince,  the  dog,  and  the  "kettle"  enter- 


84  OLD   YORK 

tained  Christopher  Level  t  after  their  short  sail  from 
tlie  headlands  of  Cape  Elizabeth.  This  was  a  very 
attractive  country  to  such  as  got  near  enough  to 
the  land  so  they  might  discover  its  disposition. 
Du  Monts  and  Champlain  were  at  Old  Orchard  July  12 
of  1605;  and  as  they  sailed  to  Cape  Ann,  where  they 
arrived  four  days  later,  Champlain  says  they  kept 
close  to  the  coast,  making  notes  of  the  country,  its 
inhabitants,  and  their  physique,  their  habits,  and 
manners  of  life.  He  notes  as  he  sails  hither  from 
the  eastward  that  the  natives  hereabout  are  of  a  sed- 
entary disposition;  that  they  are  tillers  of  the  soil; 
and  he  writes  of  the  fields  of  maize,  and  pumpkins, 
and  beans,  about  Cape  EHzabeth.  He  ran  into  the 
mouth  of  the  Saco,  but  he  somehow  does  not  make 
particular  mention  of  the  Pascataquack  River,  which  it 
might  seem  to  have  deserved.  Of  all  these  voyagers, 
however,  Capt.  John  Smith  was  the  most  leisurely 
in  his  visiting  of  these  parts;  and  to  him  the  English 
owe  most,  undoubtedly,  for  the  occupation  and  de- 
velopment by  the  English  pioneer.  Rich  says  that 
Smith  was  the  first  to  name  the  country  Nova  Brit- 
tania,  and  it  was  to  this  probably  that  the  English 
were  enabled  to  make  valid  claim  to  it.  That  it 
remained  to  Smith  to  do  this  is  somewhat  singular, 
as  this  trimountain  elevation  of  Accominticus,  or 
Agamenticus,  modernized,  or  locally  "Head  o'  Men- 
ticus,"  "Eddymenticus,"  as  it  comes  to  one  from 
those  who  hve  under  its  shadows,  was  visible  far  at 
sea,  as  it  is  now.  Those  of  the  aborigines  who  knew 
it  best  were  the  Pascatawayes,  the  Accomintas,  and 


OLD   YORK  85 

the  Sacoes.  It  is  a  half-hour's  cHml)  to  its  highest 
point,  if  one  goes  by  Drake's  watch;  but  I  should  use 
up  more  time  than  that,  for  I  should  stop  to  look  at 
all  the  pictures,  from  floor  to  sky-line,  and  there  are 
hosts  of  them,  and  all  by  the  same  artist  —  a  wonder- 
ful artist,  too! 

There  is  no  road,  or  even  pathway  up  this  steep. 
There  is  the  bed  of  a  brook,  dry  in  Summer,  but  as  the 
Spring  snows  melt,  a  rollicking  torrent.  One  can 
take  that,  or  one  can  strike  straight  for  the  ledgy 
summit  through  the  underbrush  and  tangle  of  vines 
and  briars  that  always  keep  such  places  summer 
company.  The  best  time  is  in  the  early  morning 
when  the  air  is  clear,  when  all  the  capes,  headlands, 
coves,  and  beaches  from  Cape  Ann,  almost  to  Port- 
land Head,  are  stretched  upon  one  huge  canvas,  and 
every  point  of  interest  is  brushed  in  with  all  the  col- 
oring of  a  brilliant  sunlight.  Every  pigment  con- 
ceivable, or  desirable,  is  here.  And  here  is  the  touch 
of  the  mystic  in  these  soft  atmospheres  that  infold 
each  object  that  appeals  to  the  vision.  The  ships 
at  sea  do  not  look  like  ships.  They  seem  to  have 
parted  with  all  suggestion  of  materialism.  White 
wings  massed  on  the  horizon — ethereal  argosies  — 
they  seem  hardly  to  touch  the  water,  but  to  float 
like  detached  bits  of  cloud  upon  an  inverted 
sky. 

Off  to  the  south  is  old  Portsmouth,  Pascataguay, 

"Its  windows  flashing  to  the  sky, 
Beneath  a  thousand  roofs  of  brown, " 


86  OLD   YORK 

and  out  at  sea  are  the  old  Smith  Islands,  the  Apple- 
dore  of  the  Summer  tourist,  a  scatter  of  rock,  reef, 
and  ledge,  of  which  the  chiefest  is  Smutty  Nose, 
which  one  is  like  never  to  forget  so  long  as  the  story 
of  Annethe  Christensen  lingers  in  the  mind,  unless 
Appledore  may  take  some  precedence;  but  these  two 
are  the  largest,  and  topographically,  about  the  same 
size. 

Rye  Beach  is  like  an  inlaying  of  gold  between  the 
sea  and  the  land,  Imninously  bright  under  the  clear 
simlight.  One  can  follow  the  trail  of  the  Saco  and 
Piscataqua  Rivers  alike,  except  that  the  latter  is 
nearer,  hardly  two  leagues  away.  "Old  Ketterie" 
is  almost  under  one's  hand,  flanked  by  Champer- 
nowne's  Island  that  butts  up  against  Brave-boat 
Harbor  where  York  River  filters  seaward  through  the 
yellow  marshes,  and  York  River  has  its  rise  along 
the  dried-up  "bed  of  a  mountain  torrent,"  which 
Drake  says,  he  followed  in  his  ascent  of  Agamenticus. 
But  Whittier  saw  it  all,  and  let  him  tell  it. 


"Far  down  the  vale  my  friend  and  I 
Beheld  the  old  and  quiet  town; 
The  ghostly  sails  that  out  at  sea 
Flapped  their  white  wings  of  mystery; 
The  beaches  glimmering  in  the  sun, 
And  the  low-wooded  capes  that  run 
Into  the  sea-mist,  north  and  south; 
The  sand-bluffs  at  the  river's  mouth; 
The  swinging  chain-bridge,  and,  afar 
The  foam-line  of  the  harbor-bar. 


OLD   YORK  87 

"Over  the  woods  and  meadow-lands 

A   crimson-tinted   shadow  lay 

Of  clouds  through  which  the  setting  day 
Flung  a  slant  glory  far  away. 
It  glittered  on  the  wet  sea-sands, 

It  flamed  upon  the  city's  panes, 
Smote  the  white  sails  of  ships  that  wore 
Outward,  or  in,  and  gilded  o'er 

The  steeples  with  their  veering  vanes!" 

As  one  looks  inland,  the  White  Hills  of  New  Hamp- 
shire loom  grandly  against  the  sky.  Their  hue  is 
cyane,  a  massive  undulation  of  stark  bulk  above  the 
receding  waves  of  woodland  that  intervene.  And 
between,  is  writ  the  story  of  Darby  Field,  along  with 
numerous  other  tales  of  a  dead  century.  I  am 
minded  of  IMoses  when  he  stood  upon  Sinai ;  only  the 
God  of  men,  and  all  things  else,  is  otherwise  revealed 
to  an  adoring  spirit.  One  feels  like  removing  one's 
shoes,  for,  if  ever  there  was  sacred  ground,  here  it 
must  be,  with  such  a  vision  and  such  a  crowding  of 
thought  upon  thought  against  the  outer  walls  of  the 
mind,  struggling  for  adequate  expression  which  never 
comes.  After  one  has  a  surfeit  of  looking,  one  listens 
to  hear  —  what?  Nothing.  Even  the  wind  trips  over 
the  crest  of  Agamenticus  with  tip-toeing  steps,  as  if 
this  altar  of  Nature  were  not  to  be  Hghtly  invaded. 
And  then  one  dreams,  and  he  sees  the  voyagers  from 
the  far  North,  the  fair-haired  Norsemen;  and  after 
them,  the  adventurous  Basques;  and  long  years  after, 
the  shades  of  Cabot,  Cortereal,  Du  Monts,  and  Cham- 
plain;  of  Smith,  Gosnold,  and  Pring,  and  sturdy 
English  Weymouth  who  founded  the   first  English 


88  OLD   YORK 

settlement  on  the  immediate  coast,  for,  Pemaquid  is 
hardly  a  day's  sail  away.  I  hail  them  as  they  go  up 
or  down,  "Ahoy!  Ahoy!"  but  no  answer  comes  down 
the  wind.  They  pass  like  the  ghosts  they  are  — and 
so  the  day  goes.  Boon  Island  Light  comes  out  in 
the  dusk,  a  red  flame  in  the  darkening  sea,  and  over 
Scarborough  way  is  another  light  that  may  be  Good- 
man Garvin's  for  aught  I  know ;  and  the  evening  gun 
that  breaks  the  silence  may  be  — 

"  from  gray  Fort  Mary's  walls,"  — 

but  another  would  declare  it  was  as  far  away  as  Fort 
Williams  that  huddles  under  the  Pharos-flame  of 
Portland  Head,  but  it  is  in  truth  from  Old  Consti- 
tution across  the  bay. 

High  up  on  the  summit  of  this  hill,  which  Capt. 
John  Smith,  on  his  map  of  1614,  designates  as 
"Schooler's  Hill,"  after  a  small  mountain  in  Eng- 
lish Kent  of  the  same  name,  one  is  under  the  spell 
of  its  ieipressive  silences;  and  among  the  legends  that 
come,  is  that  of  St.  Aspinquid,  the  famous  chief  of 
the  Pawtuckets.  It  is  said  that  up  to  1780  his  tomb- 
stone was  to  be  seen  here  with  its  simple  epitaph, 

"Present,    Useful;   Absent,    Wanted; 
Living,  Desired;  Dying,  Lamented." 

St.  Aspinquid  is  reputed  to  have  been  born  in 
this  York  country  many  years  before  Walter  Neale 
came  to  Kittery  as  its  flrst  settler,  and,  according 
to  the  legend,  the  date  is  May,  1588.  After  Mission- 
ary John  Eliot  began  to  teach  the  Indians  the  faith 


OLD    YORK  89 

of  the  Nazarene,  Aspinquid  came  under  the  spell  of 
Eliot's  simple  oratory,  and  at  once  became  a  con- 
vert. He  threw  aside  the  hatchet,  and  eschewing 
his  habits  of  savagery,  began  his  pilgrimage  to  the 
far  waters  of  the  Golden  Gate,  telling  in  his  rude 
way  the  story  of  the  Man  of  Galilee,  and  showing 
the  new  way  to  the  Happy  Hmiting-grounds,  teach- 
ing the  mystery  of  the  true  Manitou.  He  is  said 
to  have  been  greatly  venerated  by  these  rude  sons 
of  Nature,  who  listened  to  him  gravely,  even  though 
they  did  not  accept  his  propaganda,  which  to  them 
must  have  been  of  strange  and  awesome  import. 

He  is  said  to  have  died  at  the  ripe  old  age  of  ninety- 
four,  in  the  year  1682,  and  to  have  been  buried  upon 
the  summit  of  Aughemak-ti-koos,  with  great  cere- 
mony, and  which  may  well  be  regarded  as  hallowed 
ground.  No  doubt  here  was  an  Indian  Mecca,  so 
long  as  the  Indians  cherished  the  tradition,  and  as  one 
watches  the  winding  of  the  mists  about  this  wind- 
straked  hill-top,  the  wraith  of  this  St.  Aspinquid  is 
readily  distinguished. 

If  one  wished  to  approach  York  rightly,  he  should 
take  to  the  sands  of  Long  Beach  with  the  rugged 
grip  of  Cape  Neddock's  rocks  still  lingering  upon  the 
soles  of  his  shoes.  By  road  is  the  shortest  way,  but 
if  one  loves  the  sea,  the  trudge  along  the  yellow  sands 
is  one  of  delight,  especially  at  low  tide.  The  salty 
smell  comes  to  one's  nostrils  with  enlivening  quality 
and  without  a  hint  of  dust ;  nor,  is  one  alone ;  for  this 
IS  a  famous  drive  —  a  mile  out  and  another  back  — 
and  the  gay  turnouts  of  the  summer  visitors  and  the 


90  OLD,  YORK 

groups  of  romping  children,  along  with  the  endless 
song  of  the  sea  above  which  troops  of  white  gulls 
dip  with  a  suggestion  of  ghost-like  silence,  and  the 
long  lines  of  breaking  surf,  and  beyond  all  this,  the 
low-trailing  smokes  of  the  freighters,  and  the  glint- 
ing sails  of  the  coasters,  afford  a  scene  almost  kalei- 
doscopic in  variety  and  rapidity,  so  swiftly  do  these 
combinations  of  living  pictures  form  and  fade. 

York  has  been  known  from  the  earliest  coming 
hither  of  the  English  discoverers.  This  hill  of  Aga- 
menticus  was  a  landmark.  It  was  discernible  from 
a  considerable  distance  at  sea.  In  fact,  it  could  be 
seen  long  before  the  huge  wilderness  of  woods  at  its 
foot  could  be  made  out  by  the  mariner.  Smith  saj's, 
1614,  "  Accominticus  and  Pascataquack  are  two  con- 
venient harbors  for  small  barks,  and  a  good  country 
within  their  craggy  cliffs."  Christopher  Levett 
came  over  here,  1623-4,  and  spent  some  time  about 
Casco  Bay,  where  he  built  a  house  on  what  is 
now  known  as  House  Island.  He  came  prepared 
to  make  a  permanent  settlement,  and  gave  some 
care  to  his  survey  of  the  coast,  before  finally  deciding 
on  Casco  Bay,  all  of  which  is  evident  from  his  report 
on  the  Piscataqua  region.  His  description  is  per- 
haps the  best  we  have,  and  may  be  quoted  with  in- 
terest here.  He  says,  "About  two  leagues  farther 
to  the  east  (of  the  Piscataqua)  is  another  great  river, 
called  Aquamenticus."  Levett  could  not  have  gone 
up  this  stream,  for  it  is  neither  great  nor  navigable 
for  a  vessel  of  any  considerable  size.  He  may  have 
dropped  his  anchor  in  Brave-boat  Harbor  on  a  flood- 


OLD   YORK  91 

tide  which  would  have  given  him  possibly  the  im- 
pression which  his  report  conveys.  He  goes  on, 
"There,  I  think,  a  good  plantation  may  be  settled; 
for  there  is  a  good  harbor  for  ships,  good  ground,  and 
much  already  cleared,  fit  for  planting  of  corn  and 
other  fruits,  having  heretofore  been  planted  by  the 
savages  who  are  all  dead.  There  is  good  timber, 
and  likely  to  be  good  fishing,  but,  as  yet,  there  hath 
been  no  trial  made  that  I  can  hear  of." 

Levett  evidently  was  not  aware  of  Capt.  John 
Smith's  experience  among  the  codfish  schools  of  1514 
and  earlier.  The  absence  of  the  savages  was  due 
to  a  plague  which  shortly  before  had  practically  de- 
populated the  Etchemin  country,  and  from  which 
it  never  fully  recovered.  That  may  have  been  the 
reason  why  Sebastian  Cabot  makes  no  mention  of 
the  aborigine,  either  upon  his  first  voyage  of  1498, 
or  his  later  reputed  voyage  of  1515. 

Levett  was  one  of  the  New  England  Council,  but 
after  his  return  to  England  in  1624,  no  further  men- 
tion of  him  is  found  in  local  annals.  This  place  has 
had  several  names.  In  1640,  it  was  erected  into  the 
borough  of  Agamenticus.  A  year  later  it  was  incor- 
porated into  the  city  of  Gorgeana.  To  quote  Win- 
throp's  journal,  "In  the  summer  of  1640  Thomas 
Gorges  arrived,  accompanied  by  the  Lord  Proprietor 
as  his  Deputy  Governor  of  the  Province."  Drake 
says  "1641."  Winthrop  should  be  the  better 
authority.  About  1676,  the  charter  of  Gorgeana 
was  revoked,  and  the  settlement  was  dubbed  York, 
which  name  it  has  ever  since  borne. 


92 


OLD   YORK 


Accominticus  is  a  word  of  Indian  origin.  Trans- 
lated, it  means,  according  to  one  authority,  "on  the 
other  side  of  the  river,"  —  an  apphcation  thoroughly 
local,  —  but  the  correctness  of  the  translation  is  to  be 
doubted,  as  all  Indian  names  were  of  local  applica- 
tion, though  topographically  correct  in  its  description 
of  this  place  or  country,  the  settlement  of  which  may 
rightfully  claim  some  of  our  attention. 

The  old  town,  geographically,  was  noted  on  the 


^X 


SITE   OF   GOV.  GORGES'    HOUSE 

old  maps  as  in  latitude  23°  10'  north,  and  longitude 
70°  40'  west.  The  first  settlement  was  at  Kittery 
not  earlier  than  1623,  and  three  years  after  the  com- 
ing of  the  Mayflower  there  were  on  the  Isles  of  Shoals 
three  hundred  inhabitants,  whose  sole  occupation 
was  fishing;  a  rough,  unlettered  constituency,  amen- 
able to  no  one.     In  a  westerly  course,  perhaps  ten 


OLD    YORK  93 

miles  away,  was  the  mouth  of  the  Piscataqua. 
North  and  south  stretched  away  the  mainland,  a 
most  attractive  country  to  the  settler,  and  here  was 
the  Gorges  and  Mason  land  granted  them  by  the 
Plymouth  Council  in  1622.  The  settlement  was 
begun  about  1623  by  Francis  Norton,  a  lieutenant- 
colonel  in  the  English  army  before  his  coming  hither, 
which  was  in  the  interest  of  the  patentees.  Gorges 
was  a  man  of  ancient  lineage,  a  favorite  of  Charles, 
and  a  man  of  much  influence  at  Court.  Important 
results  were  anticipated.  Norton  was  sent  over  to 
manage,  and  with  him  were  artificers  to  build  mills, 
and  cattle  to  populate  the  fields.  The  grant  cov- 
ered the  immense  territory  of  twenty-four  thousand 
acres.  Capt.  William  Gorges  came  over  to  more 
particularly  represent  his  uncle's  interest.  The 
cellar  of  William  Gorges'  house  may  still  be  seen.  It 
was  situated  on  the  northeasterly  bank  of  York 
River  a  few  rods  above  Rice's  Bridge.  A  small  ladle 
was  ploughed  up  here.  Its  duplicate  was  reputed 
to  have  been  found  at  Pemaquid  on  the  site  of  the 
Popham  settlement  of  1608. 

Not  much  profit  was  derived  from  this  venture, 
and  in  1639,  Charles  revoked  the  Charter  to  the 
Plymouth  Council  and  issued  a  new  grant  to  Gorges, 
confirming  in  him  the  title  to  the  lands  on  the  east 
side  of  the  Piscataqua  as  far  as  the  Kennebec  River. 
A  new  effort  was  to  be  made  at  colonization.  The 
earlier  experiment  was  an  expensive  one,  no  less  than 
twenty  thousand  pounds  having  been  sunk  in  the  ven- 
ture.    Gorges'  means  were  greatly  impoverished,  and 


94  OLD   YORK 

he  now  hoped  to  recoup  his  somewhat  shattered 
fortunes.  The  officers  appointed  by  him  under  his 
commission  of  March  10,  1639,  were  William  Gorges, 
Edward  Godfrey,  William  Hook  of  Agamenticus, 
Richard  Vines  of  Saco,  Henry  Jossylyn  of  Black 
Point,  Francis  Champernoon  of  Piscataqua,  then 
"old  Kitterie,"  and  Richard  Bonython  of  Saco. 
This  old  plantation  of  Agamenticus  was  first  a 
borough  in  1640;  and  out  of  this  was  erected  the 
city  of  Gorgeana,  of  which  Thomas  Gorges  was  the 
first  mayor,  who  began  his  administration  in  1641. 
When  Thomas  Gorges  arrived  upon  the  scene  he 
found  the  labors  of  his  predecessor  of  little  avail, 
except  that  the  houses  were  there  to  afford  shelter; 
but  they  had  been  stripped  of  all  their  conveniences 
and  furnishings.  Gorges  never  came  to  America, 
but  at  his  own  expense  he  caused  to  be  built  and  fur- 
nished what  were  known  as  the  Lord  Proprietor's 
buildings,  one  of  which  was  a  fine  mansion  which 
Sir  Ferdinando  Gorges  at  some  day  in  the  near  future 
hoped  to  occupy  himself.  These,  Thomas  Gorges 
found  in  a  "state  of  great  delapidation."  It  was 
''destitute  of  furniture,  refreshments,  rum,  candles, 
or  milk;  his  personal  property  was  squandered; 
nothing  of  his  household  stuff  remaining  but  an  old 
teapot,  a  pair  of  tongs,  and  a  couple  of  andirons." 
Not  long  ago,  while  tearing  down  a  chimney  in  one 
of  the  old  houses  of  York,  and  embedded  in  the  back 
curve  of  one  of  the  flues,  the  workmen  found  an  old 
pewter  teapot.  The  bottom  of  this  old  utensil 
showed  signs  of  having  been  recoppered,  and  it  bore 


OLD   YORK 


95 


the  marks  of  considerable  use,  the  lid  having  been 
frequently  mended.  On  the  inner  side  of  the  lid  were 
the  figures  "  1644"  and  also  the  letters  "  Fer  Gor," 
and  from  these  it  was  easy  to  conjecture  its  former 
ownership.  To  my  mind  there  is  no  doubt  that  this 
is  the  identical  teapot  which  Thomas  Gorges  found 
here  when  he  came  to  assume  the  administration  of 
the  affairs    of   Gorgeana.    This  quaint  relic  is  said 


UNION    BLUFF 


now  to  be  in  the  possession  of  Miss  Mary  B.  Patten 
of  Watertown,  Mass.  It  is  hoped  it  will  sometime 
find  its  place  among  the  treasures  of  the  Maine  His- 
torical Society,  the  proper  repository  of  like  anti- 
quities. 

Thomas  selected  the  site  for  his  new  city  under 
the  shadows  of  old  Agamenticus,  the  first  city  in 
the  New  World  under  the  regime  of  the  discoverers. 


96  OLD    YORK 

Here  was  the  nucleus  of  the  new  enterprise,  but  it 
was  doomed  to  suffer  the  fate  of  Norton's  borough, 
at  which  Norton  is  said  to  have  assisted  in  the  driving 
a  hundred  head  of  cattle,  all  there  were,  to  Boston, 
where  he  disposed  of  them  for  twenty-five  pounds 
each.  Whether  he  ever  accounted  to  his  principals 
is  not  known,  as  after  this  little  or  nothing  is  heard 
of  him. 

The  high  sentiments  of  the  promoters  of  Gorgeana 
were  not  appreciated.  Illiterateness  prevailed. 
Society  was  at  low  ebb.  The  community  was  a 
mixed  one,  made  up  in  great  degree  of  lawless  men 
to  whom  the  most  moderate  restraint  was  irksome, 
who  WTre  debased  by  their  associations.  True,  they 
were  of  rugged  character,  hardy  and  inured  to 
pioneer  life,  but  uncouth  both  in  mind  and  manners. 
It  was  this  state  of  affairs  that  led  to  the  dissolution 
of  the  interest  coparcenary  of  Gorges  and  Mason 
in  1629.  Six  years  later,  the  Plymouth  Coimcil  gave 
up  their  patent  to  acquire  a  new  one  which  was  al- 
lotted into  twelve  parts,  the  third  and  fourth  portions, 
as  before  indicated,  lying  between  the  Piscataqua 
and  Kennebec  rivers.  It  was  this  allotment  which 
was  supplanted  by  the  grant  of  1639. 

This  settlement  maintained  its  foothold  with  vary- 
ing yet  not  over-flattering  fortunes.  Gorges,  elated 
with  his  power,  which  was  almost  that  of  royalty 
in  this  New  England  domain,  and  practically  abso- 
lute, in  high  favor  with  his  king,  he  could  discover 
none  of  the  quicksands  that  lay  everywhere  about 
his  projects.     His  ambition  was  to  found  a  great 


OLD   YORK  97 

state,  and  the  Church  of  England  would  be  ultimately 
the  influence  to  overshadow  and  perhaps  entirely 
extirpate  the  Puritan  "heresy,"  which,  finding  a  con- 
genial soil  along  the  rugged  shores  of  Massachusetts 
Bay,  was  cropping  out  here  and  there  in  the  prov- 
ince of  Maine  as  it  found  a  fertile  spot,  and  acquiring 
a  solidarity,  that,  having  in  mind  the  austerities  of 
the  sect  that  meted  out  swift  punishment  to  the  most 
indifferent  infraction  of  its  laws,  was  notable  and 
productive  of  apprehension  to  the  rigid  churchmen 
of  England. 

The  Plymouth  colony  was  aggressive,  and  perhaps 
the  extension  of  its  dominating  influence  was  due 
to  that  self-same  quality,  a  quality  which  was  thor- 
oughly inoculated  with  the  personalities  of  Bradford, 
Winthrop,  and  later,  Sewall  and  Mather.  It  was  to 
meet  and  combat  these  silently  accumulating  sec- 
tarian forces  that  had  made  the  country  south  of  the 
Piscataqua,  Puritan,  that  the  Episcopalian  propa- 
ganda was  to  be  planted  and  nourished  here. 

Nothing  ever  came  of  it. 

It  is  interesting  to  note,  as  one  refers  to  the  admin- 
istration of  Thomas  Gorges,  that  one  of  his  first  acts 
was  to  clean  out  the  Augean  stables,  or  in  other 
words,  to  exile  the  disreputable  George  Burdett. 
This  Burdett  was  a  minister,  originally  from  Yar- 
mouth, county  of  Norfolk,  England.  One  hears  of 
him  in  the  province  of  Salem  in  1635,  where  he 
preached  the  two  following  years.  He  shifted  thence 
to  Dover,  where  he  was  but  a  brief  period,  having 
trouble,  and  from  thence  he  moved  still  farther  east- 


98  OLD   YORK 

ward  into  York,  where  Thomas  Gorges  found  him 
practising  the  arts  of  the  devil,  for  his  story  is  that 
of  a  licentious  man,  a  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing.  He 
made  himself  so  obnoxious  with  one  and  another 
of  the  members  of  his  parish,  notably  one  Mary  Pud- 
dington,  that  the  latter  was  indicted  for  so  "often 
frequenting  the  house  and  company  of  ]\Ir.  George 
Burdett,"  that  she  was  ordered  to  make  "publick 
confession,"  which  she  did  in  these  humiliating 
words : 

"I,  Mary  Puddington,  do  hereby  acknowledge 
that  I  have  dishonored  God,  the  place  where  I  live, 
and  wronged  my  husband  by  my  disobedience  and 
light  carriage,  for  which  I  am  heartily  sorry,  and  de- 
sire forgiveness  of  this  Court,  and  of  my  husband, 
and  do  promise  amendment  of  life  and  manners 
henceforth;  "  and  having  made  this  confession,  to  ask 
her  husband's  forgiveness  on  her  knees. 

Burdett  was  indicted  by  "the  whole  Bench,"  which 
was  constituted  by  Thomas  Gorges,  Richard  Vines, 
Richard  Bonython,  Henry  Jocelyn,  and  Edmund 
Godfrey.  It  was  on  the  date  of  September  8,  1640, 
and  the  indictment  described  the  accused  as  a  "man 
of  ill-name  and  fame,  infamous  for  incontinency,  a 
publisher  and  broacher  of  divers  dangerous  speeches, 
the  better  to  seduce  that  weak  sex  of  woman  to  his 
incontinent  practices  contrary  to  the  peace  of  our 
Sovereign  Lord  the  King,  as  by  depositions  and  evi- 
dences." This  inquest  find  Billa  Vera.  He  was 
fined  "Ten  Pounds  Sterling,  to  the  said  George  Pud 
dington  for  those  of  his  wrongs  and  Damage  sus- 


OLD   YORK  99 

tained  by  the  said  George  Burdett."  This  is  the 
only  decision  I  have  found  where  damages  have  been 
awarded  by  the  early  provincial  courts  for  ahena- 
tion  of  the  affections  of  the  wife  or  husband,  though 
such  are  common  enough  in  these  modern  days. 
The  case  must  have  been  of  no  inconsiderable 
aggravation  to  have  inclined  the  court  to  personal 
damages. 

On  another  indictment  "for  Deflowering  Ruth, 
wife  of  John  Gouch  of  Agamenticus  aforesaid,"  he 
was  fined  twenty  pounds.  The  wife,  Ruth,  was 
found  guilty  "  by  the  Grand  Inquest,  of  Adultery  with 
Mr.  George  Burdett,"  and  to  follow  the  language 
of  the  sentence  "is  censured  by  this  Court,  that  six 
weeks  after  she  is  delivered  of  child,  she  shall  stand 
in  a  white  sheet,  publickly  in  the  Congregation  at 
Agamenticus  two  several  Sabbath  Days,  and  likewise 
one  day  at  this  General  Court  when  she  shall  be  there- 
unto called  by  the  Counsellors  of  this  Province,  ac- 
cording to  his  majesty's  laws  in  that  case  provided." 

The  George  Puddington  here  mentioned  was  one 
of  the  "Deputies  for  the  Inhabitants  of  Agamen- 
ticus," and  may,  therefore,  be  regarded  as  something 
of  a  public  character,  and  a  man  of  some  parts. 

Burdett  found  the  atmosphere  of  Agamenticus 
so  unwholesome  and  his  disrepute  was  so  bruited 
about  the  province,  that  he  was  compelled  to  quit 
the  country.  He  finally  returned  to  England  to  the 
wife  he  had  there  left  in  distress,  from  which  time 
but  little  more  is  heard  of  him. 

Gorges  kept  to  his  reform  with  a  stern  hand.     He 


101  OLD   YORK 

compelled  parents  to  have  their  children  baptized. 
Neglect  to  do  this  was  contempt  of  court. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  as  well  these  early  efforts 
to  better  the  moral  condition  of  things,  as  one  gets 
from  a  perusal  of  these  ancient  records  a  fair  estimate 
of  the  social  side  of  the  provincial  life,  and  the  con- 
clusion is  not  flattering  to  the  morals  of  the  time. 
It  is  very  evident  that  little  or  nothing  of  the  delicate 
consideration  extended  to  women  in  these  days  was 
practised  in  the  seventeenth  century,  or  at  least  in 
its  earlier  half.  There  was  small  sympathy  for  their 
transgressions,  and  no  disposition  to  pass  over  their 
overt  acts  of  misdoing.  That  there  were  men  of 
cultivated  and  refined  character  is  true;  but  they 
were  few  in  number  and  were  mostly  in  authority; 
yet  that  the  culprit  was  a  woman  emphasized  the 
rigor  of  the  punishment,  which  was  usually  of  the 
severest  and  oftentimes  the  most  brutal  character. 
No  doubt  the  ignorance  and  prejudice  of  those  days 
demanded  drastic  measures,  and  cheating  and  incon- 
tinency  were  the  prevailing  offences. 

The  case  of  William  Noreman  is  interesting  from 
this  point  of  view. 

Noreman  had  a  wife  in  England.  After  the  fashion 
of  the  day,  he  married  Margery  Randall.  Upon 
Margery's  discovery  of  the  fact,  she  petitioned  for 
a  divorce,  and  the  court  ordered  "that  the  said 
Margery  Randall  shall  from  henceforth  have  her 
divorce  and  now  by  order  thereof  clearly  freed  from 
the  said  Noreman." 

Then  the  court  devotes  its  attention  to  the  biga- 


OLD   YORK  "S)! 

mist.  "It  is  therefore  ordered  by  this  Court  that 
the  said  Noreman  shall  henceforth  be  banished  out 
of  this  countrie,  and  is  to  depart  thence  within  seven 
days  after  date  hereof,  and  in  case  the  said  Noreman 
be  found  after  that  time  in  this  Jurisdiction,  he  shall 
forthwith  according  to  law  be  put  to  death." 

One  hesitates  to  make  any  comment. 

Of  Gorges'  Commission  of  1639,  Richard  Bonython, 
Gentleman,  was  a  most  efficient  and  capable  man. 
He  was  the  local  magistrate.  These  men  all  bore 
honorable  names,  and  their  living-places,  as  given,  are 
significant  as  indicating  the  rapid  advance  of  the 
English  along  the  North  Shore  until  — 

the  land  of  Wonalancet, 
Sagamore  of  Pennacooke  — 

is  left  behind,  the  tide  still  pressing  farther  to  the 
eastward,  and  farther,  still,  pushing  over  the 

broad  Piscataqua, 
Where  the  fog  trails  through  the  valley 

To  the  sea-coast,  miles  away; 
Where,  among  the  dunes  of  Portsmouth, 

Stream  and  tide  together  flow, 
And  the  fort,  gray-walled  and  moated, 

Guards  the  fisher-huts,  below. 

Still  on  crept  the  slender  trail  of  the  Anglo-Saxon, 

Through  Newichawannock's  forest. 
Over  bog  and  hill  and  stream, 

Where  the  muskrat  leaves  his  ripple. 
And  the  dun  owls  blink  and  dream, 


102  OLD   YORK 

to  the  homes  of  Vines,  and  of  Bonython,  that  over- 
look 

The  Saco's  silver  wall. 
Eastward,  where  the  sands  of  Spurwink 

Watch  the  salt  tides  rise  and  fall  — 

where  the  council-fires  of  Squando  were,  in  years  to 
come,  to  gild  the  Druid  hemlocks  with  something 
of  a  vengeful  glare  as  he  plotted  for  Harmon's  scalp, 
or  Mogg  sued  for  Ruth  Bonython's  hand.  A  bit 
farther  on  hawk-eyed  Jocelj'Ti  had  Ms  garrison,  while 
just  around  the  ragged  rocks  of  Cape  Elizabeth  — 

The  seas  of  Casco  glistened, 

And  beneath  the  wind-blown  mists 

Birchen  slopes  and  barren  ledges 
Screened  its  shores  of  amethyst ; 

and  above  w-hose  vernal  domes  of  limitless  woods 
along  the  swamps  of  Machigonne,  uprose  from  the 
brooding  quiet  the  pillared  incense  of  Cleeve's  cabin- 
fires. 

This  silent  reminder,  the  old  William  Gorges  cellar 
above  Rice's  Bridge,  is  suggestive.  It  is  a  cradle- 
like hollow  in  the  riant  grasses,  unlike  others  of  its 
kind,  where  a  ragged  heap  of  stone,  cairn-like,  a 
smudge  of  weeds  lighted  vip  by  the  dull -red  blaze  of 
the  sumac  or  the  tawny  flame  of  uncombed,  scrawny 
birches,  and  similar  hints  of  the  hirsuteness  of  Na- 
ture, common  to  like  places  abandoned  of  men  — 
unketh-like,  unkempt  —  affords  the  only  hall-mark 
of  its  forgotten  occupant.  If  one  sets  about  conjur- 
ing up  the  shapes  of  its  once  dw^ellers,  one  senses  the 
uncanny  footsteps  of  those,  who  in  the  days  agone, 


OLD   YORK 


103 


made  audible  approach,  but  invisible,  noiseless  now. 
If  they  still  walk  the  rotten  debris  long  since  reverted 
to  the  soil,  the  old  floors,  the  old  paths  —  and  why 
not  ? —  we  may  not  know  it.  These  old  cellars  are 
like  the  eyeless  sockets  in  a  mouldy  skull,  perchance 
a  Yorick's,  and  not  less  or  more  pregnant  to  our 
questionings  than  to  Hamlet's,  What  cavernous 
secrets  are  here  in  these  wells  of  emptiness !  And  yet 
these  hollows,  pit-marks  on  the  face  of  Nature,  make 


YORK  MARSHES 


speech  for  those  who  sound  their  deeps.  When  the 
mists  drive  down  the  river  on  the  wind,  and  the  rain 
beats  the  windows,  then  it  is  one  thinks  of  those  — 

"  Doomed  for  a  certain  term  to  walk  the  night, 
And,  for  the  day,  confined  to  fast  in  fires. " 

The  earliest  grant  of  lands  here,  at  York,  was 
from  Sir  Ferdinando  Gorges  to  his  "cozen"  Thomas 
—  five  thousand  acres,  on  the  York  River.     The  Isles 


104 


OLD   YORK 


of  Shoals  were  included  as  well  as  all  of  Agamenticus. 
This  was  in  1641.  Delivery  was  made  by  "turf 
and  twig"  in  1642.  Other  grants  followed  down  to 
1653;  but  jealousy  arose  at  the  Court  of  Charles. 
Finally  grave  charges  were  made  which  Gorges  an- 
swered, but  not  altogether  satisfactorily  to  the  gov- 
ernment. The  inadequate  conditions  of  his  times 
made  failure  probable;  nor,  was  he  a  man  to  over- 
come and  ride  down  obstacles.  He  was  ambitious 
to  shine  as  a  politician.     He  trimmed  his  sails  to  suit 


"t^.^^^  >> 


THE    BARRELLE    MANSE 

the  wind,  turning  the  prow  of  his  ship  ever  away 
from  the  teeth  of  the  gale.  Wolsey-likC;  he  fell, 
and  his  fall  was  great.  He  died  a  disappointed 
man  in  1647,  at  the  age  of  seventy-four.  This  was 
two  years  before  Charles  was  beheaded  with  the 
consent  of  Cromwell. 

After  this,  the  settlers  at  Gorgeana  were  thrown 
upon  their  own  resources;  and  they,  with  the  Isles 


OLD   YORK  105 

of  Shoals,  Kittery  and  Wells  united  in  a  common 
compact  for  the  proper  administration  of  the  local 
government  of  this  first  mimic  Commonwealth.  This 
was  not  for  long,  however,  as  will  be  seen  by  refer- 
ence to  the  old  York  records,  which  afford  apt  illus- 
tration of  the  old  ways  of  doing  things. 

"  Nov.  22,  ]  652.  —  The  commissioners  held  their 
court  and  the  inhabitants  appeared,  and  after  some 
time  spent  in  debatements,  and  many  questions 
answered  and  objections  removed,  with  full  and 
joint  consent,  acknowledged  themselves  subject  to 
the  government  of  the  Masschusetts  in  New  Eng- 
land; only  Mr.  Godfrey  did  forbeare,  imtill  the  voate 
was  past  by  the  rest,  and  then  immediately  he  did 
by  voate  and  word  express  his  consent.  Mr.  Nich- 
olas Davis  was  chosen  and  sworn  constable.  Mr. 
Edward  Rishworth  was  chosen  recorder,  and  de- 
sired to  exercise  the  place  of  clarke  of  the  writts. 
Mr.  Henry  Norton  was  chosen  marshall  there.  John 
Davis  was  licenced  to  keep  an  ordinary  and  to  sell 
wine  and  strong  water,  and  for  one  year  he  is  to  pay 
but  twenty  shillings  the  butt.  PhilHp  Babb  of  Hogg 
Hand  was  appointed  constable  for  all  the  Hands  of 
Shoales,  Starre  Hand  excepted."  Out  of  this  tra- 
vail old  York  was  born  and  from  this  November  22, 
was  a  body  corporate.  All  previous  land  grants  were 
confirmed  by  Thomas  Danforth,  President. 

Massachusetts  immediately  assumed  control  of 
the  province  of  Maine.  The  Gorgeana  charter  was 
revoked  and  York  was  incorporated  as  a  town.  In 
1676,  Charles  II  confirmed  the  title  to  the  province 


106 


OLD   YORK 


of  Maine  to  the  Massachusetts  Bay  Colony.  A 
more  orderly  condition  of  affairs  succeeded,  except 
that  the  savage  was  not  included  within  this  em- 
bryo aegis  of  colonial  liberty. 

One  does  not  have  to  search  over-diligently  to 
come  upon  the  monopolistic  tendencies  of  the  times. 
How  will  this  do? 

"  1652.  —  At  a  town  meeting,  ordered,  that  Wil- 
liam Hilton  have  the  use  of  ferry  for  twenty-one 
years  to  carry  strangers  over  for  twopence,  and  for 
swimming  over  horses  or  other  beasts  fourpence;  or 


-^^vd/i^         '■      '■ 


THE    YORK   JAIL 


that  one  swum  over  by  strangers  themselves,  he  or 
his  servants  being  ready  to  attend,  and  one  penny 
for  every  townsman." 

Or  this  one,  as  well: 

"1701,  March  21.  —  Petitions  and  offer  of  Capt. 
John  Pickering,  to  erect  a  grist-mill,  to  grinde  the 
corn  of  the  town,  and  put  up  a  dam,  and  take  timber 
from  any  man's  land  near  by.  Will  do  it  if  the  town 
will  give  him  the  monopoly  of  it;  but  shall  have  to 
lay  out  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  pomids,  for  all 


OLD   YORK  107 

the  toil  of  grinding  the  town's  corn  will  not  pay  a  man 
wages  this  seven  years.  Voted,  to  grant  him  the 
permission  to  build,  take  creek,  lumber,  stream, 
trees,  etc.  The  mill  to  be  built  where  Glengom  and 
Gale  had  theirs." 

A  quaint  old  structure  still  stands  in  York  —  the 
old  jail.  Any  one  passing  over  the  old  York  highway 
must  needs  see  it.  It  is  "like  a  city  set  on  a  hill." 
One  at  a  distance  would  take  it  for  some  antiquated 
relic,  but  upon  a  nearer  view  its  solid  oaken,  nail- 
studded  doors,  its  iron  gratings,  and  its  ponderous 
locks  and  bolts  proclaim  its  character.  It  was  built 
in  1653. 

This  old  building  has  an  out-of-place  look.  There 
is  nothing  in  the  modern  fashion-plates  of  house 
architecture  that  suggests  such  a  low-browed,  stolid 
complexioned  thing  as  this.  There  is  one  thing 
about  the  windows  —  they  are  too  liigh  up  from  the 
floor  —  one  can't  see  out  comfortably.  Perhaps  its 
builders  had  that  in  mind,  for,  with  the  poor  Joane 
Forde  ilk,  it  would  have  been  a  noisy  time  for  the 
town-fathers.  There  was  little  sympathy  or  com- 
passion in  those  days  for  the  unfortunate  in  stocks 
and  pillory.  Joane  was  glib  of  tongue,  though  she 
might  have  suffered  from  a  limited  vocabulary;  but 
she  would  have  met  the  jibes  and  jeers  of  those  out- 
side these  jail  windows  with  the  comfortable  assur- 
ance that  she  was  "keeping  up  her  end."  Joane 
called  the  constable  a  "horn-headed  rogue  and  cow- 
head  rogue."  She  got  arrested  and  had  nine  stripes 
at  the  post.     Afterward,  for  a  like  offence,  and  she 


108  LD   YORK 

did  not  limit  herself  to  the  constable,  but  threw 
numerous  and  unworthy  epithets  at  her  good  neigh- 
bors until  they  got  out  of  patience  —  no  doubt  an 
example  of  piling  Ossa  upon  Pelion,  or  of  carrying 
coals  to  Newcastle  —  be  that  as  it  may,  Joane  was 
indicted,  given  a  fair  trial,  and  the  court  ordered 
ten  lashes,  and  stood  by  to  see  that  John  Parker 
performed  his  duty  agreeably  to  the  opinion  of  the 
magistrate. 

Undoubtedly,  both  Stevens  and  Murphy  were 
incarcerated  here  —  the  former  for  slaying  his  son,  and 
the  latter  his  wife.  Both  were  held  here  at  York, 
and  the  case  of  Stevens  was  tried  in  the  Congrega- 
tional Church,  and  Stevens  slipped  the  hangman's 
noose  through  "insufficient  evidence."  Insufficient 
evidence  covers  a  multitude  of  sins  even  in  these 
days. 

As  one  recalls  the  random  episode,  the  old  jail 
has  a  gruesome  look.  A  shag  of  ragged,  weather- 
worn shingles  with  sunlit  edge  accentuates  the  dia- 
phanous suggestions  of  shadow  that  lurk  under  its 
cowl-like  gambrel-roof.  Its  walls  are  rain-washed 
and  stained,  suggestive  of  the  bareness  and  squalor 
of  its  interior.  Its  windows  have  the  indifferent 
stare  of  one  used  to  the  avoidance  of  his  kind,  or 
rather  the  set  look  of  the  dead,  wide-oped,  that  have 
been  thrown  up  by  the  sea.  In  the  edge  of  dusk 
one  might  conjure  it  into  a  giant  toad  squat  upon 
its  ledge  of  stone  above  the  roadside,  its  flat-roofed 
dormers  for  all  the  world  a  pair  of  bulging  eyes.  On 
either  gable  a  stubby  chimney-top  is  heavily  poised, 


OLD   YORK 


109 


deserted  for  good  by  the  soot-painted  swifts  long  ago; 
for  if  ever  there  was  a  ghost-walk  in  old  York,  this 
ancient  jail  has  all  the  appearance  of  belonging  to 
that  ilk.  AVith  the  glow  of  sunset  on  its  diminutive 
panes,  one  looks  for  withered  crones,  sunken-eyed 
hags,  broom-sticks  bewitched,  bats  and  such  like, 
and  sniffs  the  air  for  untoward  smells,  notably  of 
brimstone;  and  the  mind  is  under  the  spell  of  weird, 


AN    OLD    WHARF 

uncanny  tales  that  were  current  coin  by  the  fire- 
sides of  the  old  days  — 

When  Sewall  sat,  in  wig  and  gown, 
To  judge  the  Devil's  protegees,  — 

Quaker  and  witch,  in  Salem  town,  — 
Whom  burly  Stoughton  exorcised 
With  hangman's  scaffold,  ill-devised 
Provincial  edict,  dearth  of  common  sense. 
Law-sanctioned  crime,  and  wickedness  prepense 

at  Beadle's  Tavern.  Each  ruddy  window,  too,  it 
a  Scarlet  Letter  to  suggest  other  things  in  scarlet, 
as  well. 


110 


OLD   YORK 


But  this  old  hibernacle  of  groans  and  imprecations, 
that  have  long  since  been  silenced,  is  but  an  empty- 
stage,  deserted  of  its  actors,  a  silent  and  forsaken 
remnant  of  a  quondam  civilization.  But  York 
abounds  in  old  houses,  not  a  few  of  which  are  rich  in 
stores  of  buried  romance.  These,  of  course,  are 
found  about  the  old  harbor  where  Donnell's  Wharf 


THE   APPLE-TREE    BROUGHT    FROM    ENGLAND 

still  answers  the  purposes  of  York's  somewhat  slender 
trade  by  water.  This  locality  is  classic,  along  with  Cider 
Hill  and  the  old  Scotland  parish,  which  was  among 
the  earliest  parts  of  the  town  to  be  settled  These 
people  were  Scotch  Royalists,  who  were  exiled  after 
the  fall  of  Charles  I.     Years  ago,  on  Cider  Hill,  was 


OLD   YORK  ,111 

an  old  apple-tree,  said  to  have  been  brought  over 
seas  in  a  tub,  almost  three  centuries  ago,  and  which, 
since  1874,  has  been  cut  down  by  its  owner  by  reason 
of  the  annoyance  caused  by  the  visits  of  the  curious 
stranger.  If  that  man  has  a  trout-brook  running 
through  his  meadow,  I  venture  to  remark  that  the 
gentle  Walton  will  find  a  trespass  notice  posted  at 
the  entrance  to  his  demesne.  I  hope  the  trout  keep 
on  up  the  brook,  and  that  the  meadow  is  a  small 
one,  and  that  it  is  not  far  to  "go  around." 

These  old  things  have  the  smell  of  lavender,  and 
make  one  think  of  the  roomy  old-fashioned  chests  of 
drawers,  where  the  old-time  wedding-gowns  and 
finery  were  laid  away  securely,  and  which  one  takes, 
from  time  to  time,  from  their  sweet-smelling  retreats, 
to  romance  and  dream  over.  They  go  with  the  spin- 
ning-wheel and  the  old  clumsy  reel.  I  have  one 
now,  and  some  of  the  old  yarns  still  cling  to  it,  undis- 
turbed, except  for  these  few,  which  were  spun  in  old 
York,  and  which  I  have  unwound,  that  their  texture 
and  dye  might  be  examined  and  admired  by  those 
who  feel  the  charm  and  romance  that  comes  with 
the  touching  of  these  quaint  reminders  of  a  strenuous 
yet  simple  living. 

And  these  old  houses  that  hold  them  — 

Rain-washed,  and  weather-worn  and  gray, 
With  two  huge  chimney-stacks  that  stand  aloof 
From  sprawling  elms  that  hide  a  low  hip-roof. 

There  are  some  old  houses  here  in  York,  as  in 
Kittery;  but  not  so  many.     Landlord  Woodbridge 


112 


OLD   YORK 


had  a  tavern  here  in  1770,  whose  sign  bore  the 
mystery,  "Billy  Pitt;"  below,  was  the  significant 
welcome,  "Entertainment  for  the  Sons  of  Liberty." 
There  were  those  thus  early  who  were  dubbed  Tories ; 
evidently,  whose  room  was  preferable  to  their  com 
panionship;  and  it  w^as  to  this  contingent  this  some- 
what inhospitable  innuendo  was  extended.  There 
were  more  or  less  outspoken  leanings  to  the  cause 
of  the  colonies  for  which  John  Adams  stood  so 
staunchly;  and  it  is  plainly  to  be  seen  that  the  genial 
"Woodbridge  was  not  slow,  or  at  all  backward,  in 
indicating  his  preference  as  to  the  quality  of  the 


OLD    WOODBRIDGE   TAVERN 

custom  and  the  politics  most  to  his  taste.  This  old 
tavern  in  its  time  was  a  famous  hostel.  Among  the 
notables  who  at  one  time  and  another  exchanged 
courtesies  with  its  landlord,  who  openly  boasted  the 
political  heresies  of  Boston,  was  John  Adams,  who 
was  here  in  1770,  as  he  followed  the  circuit,  and  it 
was  here  he  met,  after  some  years  of  separation,  his 


OLD   YORK 


113 


old  friend,   Justice   Sewall,   who   afterward   became 
as  good  a  Whig  as  any. 

The  Stacey  Tavern  was  a  famous  one  in  its  day, 
which  was  as  early  as  1634.  No  vestige  of  this 
hostelry  remains.     The  Wilcox  Tavern,  a  like  famous 


P,     \JHE    OLD    WILCOX    TAVERN 

inn,  in  its  time,  remains  as  a  specimen  of  the  old 
houses  of  that  day,  and  one  cannot  fail  to  remark 
its  solidity,  and  its  gambrel-roof,  which  smacks  of 
a  rare  and  bygone  hospitality.  If  one  is  interested 
in  old  houses,  the  Sayward  house  should  not  be  over- 
looked, for  it  is  of  interest  by  reason  of  its  surround- 
ings, and  which  lend  it  something  of  isolation.  Here 
is  the  ancient  Barrelle  Manse,  to  remind  one  some- 


114  OLD   YORK 

what  of  Wentworth  Hall  over  Piscataqua  way.  It 
is  a  finely  preserved  yet  rambling  pile,  and  one  won- 
ders what  need  there  was,  ever,  of  such  a  great  house. 
It  is  good  to  look  at,  however,  for  it  stands  for  the 
old  ways  wholly.  And  how^  simple  their  furnish- 
ings, of  which  the  wide-mouthed  fireplace  was  the 
altar! 

No  ancient  Delft  or  Cloisson^, 

Or  inlaid  vase  from  far  Japan 
Above  a  carved  mantel  lay; 

No  costly  mats  from  Hindostan, 
Or  antique  clock,  with  face  o'erwrit 
With  mystic  symbols,  requisite, 
Marks  slowly,  'side  its  dark,  wainscoted  wall, 
The  waning  moons,  the  sea-tide's  rise  and  fall. 

No  Whittier,  rich  in  soulful  rhymes 

And  home-brewed  ale  of  Truth  was  here; 
Or  sound  of  Bruges'  mellowed  chimes. 

Or  midnight  ride  of  Paul  Revere. 
A  dozen  books  piled  on  the  shelf 
Nailed  'neath  the  dingy  clock,  —  itself 
An  heirloom  with  the  rest,  —  made  up  the  store 
That  bred  no  wish  for  other,  newer  lore. 

But  these  old  houses  by  the  w^aters  of  Bra'-boat 
Harbor  were  pleasant  places,  and  in  these  days  of 
wide  verandas  and  lazy  hammocks,  one  has  charm- 
ing visions  of  the  days  of  homespun  linen.  Go  back 
two  hundred  years  and  see  — 

Indoors  is  rest  and  quietude. 

Across  the  threshold  cool  winds  blow; 
And,  'twixt  its  lintel-frame  of  wood 

Is  shrined  a  landscape  of  Corot,  — 


OLD   YORK 


115 


A  picture  wrought  with  mystery,  — 

The  drowsy  farm,  the  soft  fair  sky, 
Inwoven  with  the  song  of  vibrant  thread. 
Of  wide-rimmed  wheel,  by  household  goddess  sped. 


,0n::wr- 


THE    SAYWARD    HOUSE 


Infinite  the  charm,  and  sweet  the  simplicity  of  so 
fair  a  picture!  and  yet  it  was  all  there,  all  of  Nature 
that  these  modern  days  possess,  and  more  of  it,  for 
that  matter. 

The  old  stony  ruts  are  gone,  and  much  else,  beside, 
that  it  were  better  to  have  retained. 

But  such  is  th^  fate  of  all  ancient  things.  Their 
days  are  like  the  dead  leaves  of  th^  forest  that  have 
been  and  are  not.    No  Witch  of   En  dor  may  raise 


116 


OLD  YORK 


their  ghosts  to  satisfy  the  ambitions  of  seme  modern 
Saul ;  and  it  were  best  it  were  so.  Let  the  rampant 
Commercialism  of  to-day  go  to  its  doom  with  the 
prayer  of  Dives  unanswered.  It  will  not  be  per- 
suaded though  one  rose  from  the  dead. 
Surely,  the  art  of  El  Meysar  is  vanished. 


f^ 


^t,,^f^-  f  ^  J 


MclNTIRE    GARRISON    HOUSE 


THE  BELLS  OF  YORK 


CAPE    NEDDOCK 


THE  BELLS   OF   YORK 

ETURN,  0  Lord,  and  visit  this 
vine,"  was  the  text  of  the  ordi- 
nation sermon  which,  in  1662,  the 
Rev.  Shubael  Dummer  preached 
from  the  pulpit  of  the  First  Con- 
;  ,,,  gregational  Church,  on  the  estab- 
i'li  lishment  of  the  first  religious  ser- 
vice held  in  this  old  town,  a  pas- 
torate which  he  held  for  thirty  years, 
and  until  his  death  in  1692,  when 
he  was  ambushed  by  the  Indians 
and  shot  in  the  back,  while  his  wife, 
the  daughter  of  the  distinguished  Ed- 
ward Rishworth,  was  carried  into  captivity.  The 
settlement  was  practically  destroyed.  Parson  Dum- 
mer had  his  house  by  the  sea  on  the  narrow  neck  of 
land,  known  to  the  old  voyagers  as  Roaring  Rock, 
on  what  is  now  known  as  the  Norwood  Farm.    The 

119 


120 


OLD   YORK 


site  of  the  first  meeting-house  was  on  the  northeast 
side  of  Meeting-house  Creek,  near  the  bridle-path 
to   Sewall's  Bridge. 

This  is  the  initial  episode  in  the  story  of  "  The  Bells 
of  York,"  and  a  savage  episode  it  is:  a  reminder  of 
the  days  when  the  musket  and  the  prayer-book  were 


ROARING    ROCK 


boon  companions;  when  the  hoarse  whoop  of  the 
lurking  Indian  was  as  like  to  break  in  upon  the  de- 
vout invocation  of  the  preacher,  as  were  the  dulcet 
notes  of  the  thrush  from  the  not  far-away  woodland. 
There  is,  on  one  of  the  main  thoroughfares  of  this 
beautiful  old  town,  a  wooden  structure,  known  as 
the  old  York  Meeting-house.     It  was  founded  in  1747 


OLD   YORK 


121 


—  that  is  the  date  on  its  foundation  corner-stone  — 
and  is  the  third  in  point  of  time  and  building.  One 
may  easily  decipher  this  by  a  glance  at  the  archi- 
tectural proportions  of  its  gable,  with  its  stark,  staid- 
like  tower  —  without  reference  to  the  numerals  which 
make  up  the  data  on  this  corner-stone  —  that  it  is 
quite,  quite  old.     Its  style  outwardly  is  of  the  old- 


FIRST   CHURCH    AT    HINGHAM 

fashioned,  unpretentious  sort,  which  is  more  than 
compensated  for  by  its  modest  and  constant  sugges- 
tion of  the  common  sense  and  sagacity  of  its  builders; 
for,  it  stands  here  on  its  grassy  knoll  as  a  substan- 
tial memorial  of  a  day  when  things  were  made  to  last 
as  well  as  to  serve. 

Its  exterior  prepares  one  for  the  severe  plainness, 
one  might  also  say,  poverty,  of  its  interior  decoration. 
The  first  New  England  churches  were  suggestive  of 


122 


OLD   YORK 


small  barns.  Afterward,  they  took  the  form  of  a 
square,  with  a  liip-roof,  suggestive  of  the  block- 
house at  Winslow,  known  as  Fort  Halifax.  Later 
still,  followed  the  pitch-roof  with  a  two-story  porch 
on  the  front  gable,  surmounted  by  a  high-posted 
bell-tower;  above  all  this  was  a  tall,  slender  spire 
of  octagon  shape  that  pierced  the  sky  like  a  needle, 
and  atop  of  which  was  a  wooden  chanticleer  or  kin- 
dred device  to 
indicate  the 
way  of  the 
wind  —  as  if 
that  had  any- 
thing to  do 
with  the  direc- 
tion of  the  pre- 
valent religious 
leanings  of  the 
people,  who, 
every  Sabbath  morning,  wended  their  respective  ways 
hither,  but  who  never  failed  to  glance  upward  to 
the  veering  weather-vane,  while  their  feet  kept  to  the 
green  carpeting  so  generously  supplied  by  Dame 
Nature. 

It  is  evident  that  "songs  of  praise"  were  heard 
here,  for  in  1769,  it  is  mentioned  that  "singing  was 
permitted  to  the  lower  floor,  if  persons  occupying 
the  designated  pews  fit  them  up  at  their  own  expense." 
According  to  Emery,  the  singers  sat  in  the  body  of 
the  house  on  one  side  of  the  broad  aisle.  Later,  they 
occupied  the  south  gallery,  fronting  the  pulpit.    The 


BOSTON'S    FIRST   CHURCH 


OLD   YORK 


123 


deacons,  like  the  clerks  in  the  House  of  Represen- 
tatives, sat  facing  the  congregation  under  the  shadow 
of  the  preacher's  desk,  possibly  to  watch  the  deport- 
ment of  the  young  people,  who  were,  it  is  not  unlikely, 
in  need  of  some  such  restraining  influence  or  espion- 
age. Congregational  singing  was  practised,  and  as 
singmg  or  hynm-books  were  scarce,  the  deacons, 
probably  in  turn,  "Imed"  out  the  hymn,  reading 
a  line  which  was  smig  by  the 
people;  when  the  last  note 
had  died  away  another  line 
was  read  and  sung  —  so  they 
went  through  the  hymn,  wliich 
must  have  had  something  of 
a  lugubrious  effect,  especially 
if  the  tune  happened  to  be 
good  old  "Windham," 
In  the  old  days  its 
pews  were  "box 
affairs,"  and  as  the 
goodman  and  his 
goodwife  and  the 
children  sat  in  them, 

they  could  see  about  the  church,  miless  the  pew- 
walls  were  so  liigh  that  the  youngsters  needed 
to  crane  their  necks  to  see  even  their  next-door 
neighbor.  A  massive  mahogany  pulpit  overlooked 
the  house,  and  a  wide  sounding-board  hung  pendant 
over  it,  after  the  fashion  of  the  early  New  England 
days.  Its  low-posted  galleries  were  without  adorn- 
ment,  quaint,   old-fashioned,   and  m   keeping  with 


ONE  OF  THE  TWO  WOODEN  TANKARDS 
OF  FIRST  COMMUNION    SERVICE 


124  OLD   YORK 

their  surroundings.  On  Sundays  the  bright  sun- 
light fell  unrestrained  across  the  house,  as  now  when 
the  furnishings  of  the  pews  are  lighted  up  warmly, 
and  as  well  the  carpets  and  upholstery  about  the 
preacher's  desk.  The  wide,  tall  windows  let  in  floods 
of  white,  colorless  light.  No  doubt  its  old-time 
worshippers  preferred  this  to  the  jangle  of  colors  that 
in  other  churches  of  fewer  years  and  fewer  honors, 
perhaps,  slants  noiselessly  down  from  diamond  panes 
steeped  in  muddy  rainbow  dyes,  set  in  a  dusky  net- 
work of  leaden  sash  after  an  anomalous  pattern 
known  in  modern  art  as  stained-glass  decoration. 
Fashion  leads  people  to  do  things  in  church  as  well 
as  out,  that  bring  little  of  comfort,  happiness,  or 
even  spiritual  benefit;  but  I  have  been  always  of  the 
opinion  that  broad  daylight  was  at  all  times  one  of 
the  things  that  men  could  not  improve  upon,  unless 
they  wished  to  sleep;  and  even  then,  it  does  not 
matter  if  one  is  tired  enough. 

We  are  writing  of  the  later  house  of  1747.  On 
week-days,  these  narrow  stalls  or  pews,  straight- 
backed  and  suggestive  of  scant  comfort,  the  domi- 
nant pulpit  and  the  singing-seats  in  the  organ-loft, 
were  shut  in  from  the  outer  world,  of  which  it  can 
be  said  not  a  single  hint  of  ornateness  lingered.  No 
green  of  ivy-leaf  relieved  its  outer  wall,  gray  and 
cheerless  enough,  with  not  so  much  as  a  scrap  of 
Nature's  poetry  of  growing  things,  written  across  it. 
Its  square  porch  midway,  its  clapboarded  gable  rose 
squarely  and  stark  to  its  ridge-pole.  A  simple  cor- 
nice  broke  around  its  top,   upon  which    rested   a 


OLD   YORK 


125 


many-sided  belfry,  that,  rounded  off  with  a  dome, 
supported  the  tapering,  needle-hke  steeple,- a  bodkin 
sort  of  an  affair  which  brings  to  mind  the  churches 
of  old  London.     Its  low-sloping  roof,  its  windows 


THE    YORK    MEETING-HOUSE 


with  widely  generous  outlooks  and  its  old-fashioned 
door  On  the  porch  sides,  appealed  to  one  with  quiet 
dignity,  so  different  were  they  from  what  one  is  accus- 
tomed to  associate  with  the  idiosyncrasies  of  the 


126  OLD   YORK 

modern  church-builder.  This  substantial  meeting- 
house of  another  century  would  be  a  restful  thing 
to  look  at. 

As  to  the  quite  ancient  and  more  ornate  edifice 
one  sees  in  these  days,  the  only  thing  it  really  lacks 
is  a  trio  of  wliite  clock-faces  to  keep  an  eye  on  the 
town-roofs,  and  on  the  town-folk  so  much  given  to 
human  questionings  and  neighborly  scrutinies.  I 
know  a  clock  on  a  certain  stone  church-tower  that 
has  ever  for  me  a  genuine  human  interest.  Its 
black  hands,  emaciated  and  long-drawn  out,  never 
point  the  same  way  more  than  a  minute  at  a  time, 
though  forever  travelling  round  and  round  after  each 
other,  in  storm  and  sun,  always  coming  back  to  their 
places  of  starting  like  a  man  lost  in  the  woods.  The 
people  on  the  street  seem  always  to  be  asking  it 
questions  with  faces  upturned  as  they  go  up  or  down, 
but  the  clock  in  the  tower  seems  little  to  care  for 
human  affairs.  Between  us  all  and  the  town-pump, 
usually  a  considerable  factor  in  municipal  doings, 
I  doubt  not  it  notes  all  that  is  going  on,  and  quite 
regularly  expresses  its  opinions  to  the  other  clocks 
about  town,  for  that  matter,  and  after  a  striking 
fashion.  Curiously  enough,  when  it  speaks,  its 
neighbors  answer  from  ah  directions,  iterating  the 
same  thing,  hour  after  hour,  day  after  day,  the  year 
through;  but  one  gets  to  know  them  by  their  voices, 
and  to  read  their  messages  much  as  a  telegrapher  does 
those  which  come  to  him  over  his  wires,  by  sound. 

On  the  tower  of  the  old  York  meeting-house,  near 
its  top,  is  a  window,  but  why,  metaphorically  speak- 


OLD   YORK  127 

ing,  it  should  always  wear  blinders,  unless  its  one 
eye  is  weak,  is  more  than  I  can  tell.  I  never  see  it, 
but  it  suggests  to  me  that  long  sleep  so  many  have 
taken  who  were  once  its  human  familiars.  There 
is  one  in  the  stone  tower  of  the  clock  I  know  so  well. 
It  has  occurred  to  me  that  here  might  be  the  lookout 
of  the  little  old  fellow  who  has  kept  house  in  the 
clock  at  the  top  of  the  tower  ever  since  it  has  been 
here,  and  who  attends  to  things  when  the  clock-tinker 
does  not,  and  who,  possibly,  has  no  other  occupation 
than  watching  the  passers-by,  rich  and  poor,  sober 
and  otherwise,  unless  it  is  to  strike  the  hours  of  day 
and  night,  which  he  does  with  such  regularity,  accu- 
racy, and  good  judgment,  that  people  have  come  to 
regard  him  as  a  very  reliable  individual,  not  hesitat- 
ing to  set  their  time-pieces  and  likewise  get  their 
dinners  —  a  matter  of  great  importance  to  many 
folk  —  by  what  he  says.  In  case  of  fire,  he  is  never 
satisfied  until  he  has  set  the  whole  town  by  the  ears 
to  count  the  strokes  of  his  hammer,  and  the  bigger 
the  conflagration,  the  longer  he  pounds  away,  as  if 
he  found  a  keen  enjoyment  in  the  increased  tumult 
and  alarm.  Moreover,  I  doubt  if  the  rheumatic 
sexton  could  ring  the  great  bell  away  up  in  the  belfry 
on  Sundays  without  the  help  of  some  good  spirit;  for, 
I  have  noticed  he  often  threw  his  whole  weight  upon 
its  long  swaying  rope  before  the  bell  would  respond 
with  even  the  faintest  of  notes.  It  seems  to  me  a 
clock  on  this  old  meeting-house  of  York  would  be 
great  company  to  those  who  have  to  be  abroad 
betimes. 


128  OLD   YORK 

The  facial  characteristics  of  this  old  meeting-house 
are  all  the  more  noticeable  with  so  much  poverty 
of  frieze  and  cornice,  and  impart  something  of  human 
interest  to  its  exterior  acquaintanceship.  So  simple 
and  unpretending  it  is,  I  confess,  the  most  beautiful 
and  attractive  church  of  all  the  town,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  enhanced  interest  derived  from  its  venerable 
age,  its  aristocratic  associations,  its  parish  pedigree, 
its  ancient  musty  records,  older  than  itself,  even,  and 
its  value  as  a  historic  landmark,  bring  to  it. 

It  is  a  humiliating  confession  to  make,  that,  often- 
times at  church,  one  hears  but  little  of  the  text  or 
sermon,  so  busy  is  one's  thought  elsewhere;  but  I 
have  sat  within  these  walls  when  I  have  been  alone, 
so  far  was  I  from  realizing  at  the  time  that  I  was  one 
of  a  half-hundred  others,  or  that  a  distinguished 
preacher  from  a  distinguished  New  England  college 
was  occupying  the  pulpit.  I  rarely  step  within  the 
portals  of  any  long-ago  established  church  whose 
hall-marks  are  those  of  a  similar  ancient  lineage, 
but  I  try  to  recall  the  earUest  entry  in  its  records, 
no  doubt  written  with  a  quill  from  some  ancient 
representative  of  that  noble  family  that  saved  Rome 
by  its  clamor,  and  of  the  generations  through  which 
it  has  passed.  Here  the  old  and  the  new  meet  once 
a  week,  and,  to  my  mind  it  should  be  a  profitable 
meeting,  for,  here  is  the  proof  that  men  should  live 
as  they  seem,  to  accomplish  anything  of  profit  to 
themselves  or  their  kind. 

I  have  often  thought  as  I  have  occupied  a  pew  in 
a  strange  church,  how  concerned  the  minister's  wife 


OLD   YORK  129 

must  be  in  her  secret  thought,  as  she  sat  within  the 
shadow  of  her  husband's  pulpit,  knowing  all  the 
little  weaknesses  and  foibles  of  the  man  who  has  thus 
been  ordained  as  a  consecrated  guide-post  for  a  small 
portion  of  the  human  race.  I  am  obliged  some- 
times, with  all  my  affection  and  reverence  for  Chris- 
tian living,  to  think  of  it  in  some  instances  as  a 
kind  of  humbuggery.  It  is  a  lucky  thing  for  most 
preachers  that  their  congregations  do  not  realize 
how  human  they  are,  and  how  little  of  real  practical 
value,  in  a  worldly  sense,  attaches  to  what  they  say. 
It  is  the  man  who  does,  as  well  as  says,  who  leaves 
a  footprint  men  are  apt  to  measure. 

Disagreeable  as  this  and  kindred  comment  may 
be,  it  has  the  bitter  flavor  of  truth,  that,  like  a  spoon- 
ful of  rhubarb,  leaves  a  bad  taste  in  one's  mouth,  but 
one  is  better  for  a  good  dose  of  it.  I  never  think 
of  my  own  minister  in  that  way.  He  never  pre- 
tends to  be  more  than  a  man,  and  that  is  all  any  of 
us  are,  or  may  be.  But  one  could  never  harbor  such 
speculation  as  to  the  inner  and  more  hidden  Ufe  of 
others,  if  one  could  forget  one's  own  weaknesses 
and  mistakes.  Experience  is  not  only  cumulative, 
but  ductile.  It  can  be  stretched  out,  as  a  shape- 
less mass  of  iron  may  be,  into  a  coil  of  delicate  wire, 
so  that  it  encompasses  one's  local  Carthage,  not  only, 
but  as  well,  one's  entire  acquaintance.  It  is  so  easy 
to  interpret  the  quality  of  those  about  us  when  we 
perfectly  understand  ourselves.  But  of  the  people 
who  worshipped  here  so  many  years  ago,  only  the 
most  prominent  tendencies  of  their  times,  which, 


180  OLD   YORK 

by  the  way,  were  ultra-religious,  remain  to  make  up 
their  history.  If  they  could  have  lived  on  to  this 
day,  they  might  have  concluded,  with  a  great  deal 
of  sound  sense,  that  the  Kingdom  of  God  does  not 
come  in  a  generation,  or  even  in  a  century,  and  that, 
after  all  these  eighteen  hundred  years  Jerusalem  and 
the  Man  of  Sorrows  were  not  so  far  away,  and  that 
the  second  coming  might  not  seem  so  near  after  all. 

It  is  the  bare  outline  of  the  real  life  of  two  cen- 
turies ago  one  has  with  which  to  content  one's  self 
in  these  non-church-going  days,  as  they  may  be  well 
called,  when  people  attend  semi-theatrical  perform- 
ances, fish,  and  golf,  while  some  others  attend  church. 
The  Puritan  Church  was  planted  invariably  on  the 
bleakest  of  wind-blown  places.  Its  creed  was  as 
barren  of  spiritual  beauty  as  the  plainly-boarded 
walls  of  the  edifice  where  it  was  taught;  as  devoid 
of  comfort  as  were  its  pine  settees  and  other  rude 
insignia  of  churchly  service.  As  if  this  were  not 
enough,  restraining  statutes  —  Blue  Laws  —  were  en- 
acted for  the  deportment  of  members  of  religious 
societies,  as  well  as  for  those  without  the  gates,  for 
Sunday,  as  for  week-day  behavior. 

All  members  of  early  communities  were  amenable 
to  the  most  stringent  construction  of  the  laws  in 
force.  Like  stakes  set  to  mark  the  boundary-line 
of  one's  moral,  and  personal  rights  as  well,  a  net- 
work of  constrictive  restraints  was  stretched  about 
the  area  of  early  New  England  living  much  as  a 
farmer  of  nowadays  would  string  his  corn  with 
twine  to  keep  away  the  thieving  crows.     Even  the 


OLD   YORK  131 

natural  and  God-given  rights  of  man  were  put  in 
abeyance,  or  under  grievous  scrutiny;  and  the  teach- 
ings of  the  Creator  were  subjected  to  revision  by 
the  early  legislators  of  Massachusetts  Bay. 

There  was  not  much  difference  between  the  Mas- 
sachusetts Bay  settlers  and  those  in  the  province 
of  Maine.  They  were  part  and  parcel  of  the  same 
Colonial  family.  As  yoimg  as  the  settlement  was 
in  those  days,  its  morals  were  not  of  the  best,  nor 
did  they  differ  much  from  their  neighbors  elsewhere. 
Its  amenities  were  roughened  and  lessened  by  an 
exterior  deportment  of  unbending  dignity  and  re- 
serve among  the  leaders  in  the  community.  In 
many  respects  the  lives  of  these  people  were  barren 
of  the  commonest  of  creature  comforts;  their  lines 
were  drawn  in  harsh  relief.  Much  that  passes  for 
ordinary  in  these  times  would  then  have  been  re- 
garded as  unattainable,  and  would,  no  doubt,  have 
been  charged  to  the  invention  of  the  Devil,  as  gotten 
up  for  a  snare  and  a  delusion  for  mankind.  Their 
practices  were  largely  of  self-denial,  bordering  upon 
austerity.  Days  of  error  they  may  have  been,  but 
of  some  superior  manners,  as  well.  Great  deference 
was  exacted  of  the  plebeian  by  those  in  authority  — 
an  exaction  so  rigid,  that  a  settler  who  forgot  himself 
so  far  as  to  say  that  the  magistrate's  "mare  was 
as  lean  as  an  Indian  dog"  was  deemed  to  have 
committed  a  heinous  offence,  and  was  fined  with 
commendable  promptness.  Theirs  was  a  peculiar 
code  of  punishments,  as  ingenious  as  effective,  that 
were  visited  upon  the  offenders  of  the  period. 


132  OLD   YORK 

An  ok!  case  is  recorded  where  a  woman  of  question- 
able morals  was  sentenced  to  stand  in  church  in  a 
white  sheet  for  three  successive  Sundays,  and  to 
afterward  acknowledge  her  failings  to  the  congre- 
gation, a  chastisement  that  would  hardly  do  for 
these  enlightened  days  when  things  are  not  always 
called  by  their  right  names.  No  doubt  there  were 
many  unruly  spirits  in  the  township  where  life  par- 
took so  much  of  the  frontier,  and  much  that  would 
now  pass  without  notice,  would  then  have  attracted 
serious  attention  and  condign  punisliment.  They 
were  an  old-fashioned  people,  with  old-fashioned  and 
limited  ideas.  Their  ruts  were  narrow,  but  well- 
defined,  and  well-adhered  to.  Radical  methods  of 
correction  were  necessary  to  restrain  those  who  were 
afflicted  with  a  grievous  moral  obliquity.  Of  the 
adventurers  who  came  here,  many  were  of  the  de- 
generate sort,  who,  if  not  needed  to  increase  the 
quota  of  citizenship,  were  voted  out  of  town;  and 
who,  if  they  did  not  depart  of  their  own  volition, 
were  summarily  ejected.  These  characters  were 
thorns  in  the  side  of  this  ultimately  Puritan  com- 
munity, and  got  but  little  sympathy,  and  less  mercy. 
For  all  that,  it  is  presumed  that  this  old  town  was 
not  behind  her  sister  communities  in  visiting  the 
rigor  of  the  law  upon  her  recreant  cliildren.  In 
post-Revolutionary  times  wooden  stocks  were  a 
necessity  on  training-days,  or  "musterings,"  as  they 
were  called,  and  it  is  recorded  that  even  aristocratic 
old  Falmouth,  farther  down  the  coast  to  the 
eastward,    was     once     presented     to    the    General 


OLD   YORK  133 

Court  for  not  providing  "stocks"  and  a  "ducking- 
stool." 

On  "muster-day"  the  people  came  from  far  and 
near  to  make  a  gala-event  of  the  occasion,  which  was 
an  infrequent  episode  in  the  then  country  life,  and 
to  see  the  motley-arrayed  militia  "go  through"  their 
manceuverings  and  evolutions  with  halting  awkward- 
ness; when  the  butts  of  rum  and  gin  were  apt  to  be 
too  frequently  drawn  upon  by  the  "squad"  and 
its  admiring  friends;  when  a  country  boy  with  a 
shilling,  or  even  a  ninepence  in  his  pocket  for  spend- 
ing money,  thought  liimself  immensely  well  off,  and 
a  trudge  of  ten  miles  to  go  and  as  many  more  to 
come,  was  a  light  task.  A  "pig-tail"  doughnut  or  a 
square  of  ginger-bread,  and  a  "swig"  of  hard  cider, 
or  a  mug  of  spruce  beer,  was  the  extent  of  boyish 
dissipation.  A  ride  homeward  on  the  old  thorough- 
brace  wagon  with  the  old  folk  was  a  treat;  but  it 
was  more  likely  a  long  walk  up  hill  and  down  dale 
that  terminated  the  day's  entertainment,  comical 
enough  in  many  ways,  and  that  grew  so  farcical  to 
the  plain  yeomanry  of  the  time,  who  thought  more 
of  their  potato  patches  than  of  their  regimentals, 
that  these  annual  gatherings  were  abolished  by  law 
with  a  conmiendable  imanimity. 

Almost  every  country  household  with  a  pedigree 
has  some  reminder  of  those  quaint  old  days  with  their 
quaint  old  customs,  in  its  musty  garret  —  a  rusty 
musket,  a  cartouch-box,  a  faded  coat  with  buff  trim- 
mings sadly  stained,  an  old  three-cornered  hat,  or 
an  iron-hilted  sword  with  its  black  leather  scabbard 


134  OLD   YORK 

ripped  badly  up  its  seam,  as  if  the  sword  were  too 
big  for  it  —  for  New  England  times  from  the  earliest 
were  nothing,  if  not  warlike. 

Miles  Standish,  with  his  Low  Coimtry  experience 
at  arms,  set  a  militant  example  that  was  bravely 
adhered  to  through  the  French  and  IncUan  forays 
that  after  1692  were  the  especial  misfortune  of  New 
England  pioneer  life ;  and  the  same  was  true  of  Har- 
mon, Storer,  and  Moulton,  and  the  Pepperrells  of  Kit- 
tery.  It  may  be  on  that  account  the  people  were 
the  more  boisterous  and  rough-seeming,  and  in  truth, 
less  refined  in  their  jollity  and  merry-making,  and 
more  quarrelsome  in  their  cups.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
the  pillor}^  and  stocks  had  their  place  in  the  village 
square  so  that  they  might  be  easily  accessible  when 
men  got  noisy  and  meddlesome.  These  two  instru- 
ments of  torture,  along  with  the  whipping-post,  stood 
for  the  climax  of  discomfort  and  obloquy.  In  most 
instances  they  were  unsparingly  used.  They  were 
a  brutal  trio,  and  strange  to  say  they  were  not  a  long 
step  out  the  shadow  of  the  meeting-house. 

There  was  a  singular  consistence  in  the  meting 
out  of  provincial  punishments,  for  there  was  little 
distinction  between  the  sexes.  AVomen  were  made 
to  stand  in  pillory  in  the  village  midst,  hke  Jane 
Andrews,  to  be  jibed  and  jeered  at.  Hester  Prynnes 
were  not  lacking  —  and  brutal  spectacles,  were  they 
not!  Scolds  and  shrews  were  ducked  midstream! 
nor  was  there  any  hurry  to  lift  them  out,  once  well 
out  of  sight,  or  until  the  constable  was  convinced 
that  the   shrewish  ardor  was   abated  —  a   harmless 


OLD   YORK  135 

and  homoeopathic  treatment.  There  was  a  tinge  of 
humor  about  it  all  that  lent  to  these  castigations  a 
peculiar  grimness.  It  was  an  annealing  process  — 
one  form  of  self-purification. 

Here  was  democracy,  pure  and  simple.  Perhaps 
it  would  be  more  apt  to  look  at  them  as  a  parcel  of 
great  overgrown  school-children  working  out  the 
problem  of  self-government  under  the  tutelage  of 
the  minister,  the  selectmen,  and  the  constable.  It 
was  a  tough  problem  in  some  localities,  and  the 
dunce-seat  was  wtII  occupied  most  of  the  time;  but 
they  managed  to  ''put  it  on  the  board,"'  and  since 
which  time  numerous  constitution-tinkerers  have 
been  trying  to  demonstrate  the  proposition.  A  man's 
standing  in  church  had  much  to  do  with  his  influence 
and  power  as  a  citizen,  for  the  early  church  of  New 
England  easily  became  the  nucleus  of  the  New  Eng- 
land aristocracy.  In  this  way,  towns,  after  a  fashion, 
became  the  arbiters  of  their  corporate  w^elfares,  and 
were  let  pretty  much  alone  by  the  province  at  large. 
In  other  words,  the  exigencies  of  the  time  welded 
each  town  into  a  close  corporation.  The  settlers 
were  of  a  gregarious  sort  by  compulsion,  and  if  they 
huddled  together  along  some  neck  of  land  by  the 
sea,  it  was  that  they  preferred  the  "open."  The  sea 
was  as  good  as  a  fort-wall.  Like  porcupines,  they 
rolled  themselves  together,  their  quills  pointed  in 
all  directions,  trenchantly  suggestive.  A  man  could 
not  settle  in  towTi  without  the  consent  of  the  ''folk- 
mote"  or  town-meeting.  An  unfavorable  vote  com- 
pelled a  man  to  go  elsewhere.     There  was  no  court 


136  OLD   YORK 

of  appeal.    Towns  had  the  power,  or  rather  assumed 
it;  to  disfranchise  their  own  citizens. 

Here  is  a  quotation  from  the  old  York  records: 
"  1724-5.  —  Samuel  Johnson  put  btj  from  voting." 
Ecclesiastical  matters  were  entirely  within  the  con- 
trol of  the  town-meeting,  and  were  matters  of  public 
discussion  in  which  all  who  were  voters,  took  part 
if  they  desired. 

Recalling  the  fact  that  in  the  Indian  raid  of  1692 
York  was  practically  destroyed,  preacher  Dummer 
ambushed,  and  the  other  settlers  killed  or  carried 
into  captivity,  and  that  for  six  years  after,  the  settle- 
ment was  without  religious  instruction,  it  is  easy 
to  locate  the  landmark  where  one  may  set  up  his 
theodolite  and  begin  his  survey  with  a  fair  degree 
of  accuracy. 

Until  1731,  the  freemen  of  York  had  full  control 
of  church  affairs.  Father  Moody  came  in  1698, 
May  10.  Whether  or  not  the  barn-like  structure  of 
the  time  was  ready  for  his  occupancy,  there  is  no 
relation  that  I  have  seen.  Doubtless,  the  voters  were 
duly  warned,  and  when  the  day  of  the  town-meeting 
came,  after  cUscussions  numerous,  pro  et  con,  the 
people  voted  to  provide  a  church  for  the  eccentric 
preacher. 

" '  Build,  0  Troll,  a  church  for  me 
At  Kallundborg  by  the  mighty  sea ; 
Build  it  stately,  and  build  it  fair. 
Build  it  quickly,'  said  Esbern  Snare." 

But  there  were  no  Trolls  at  old  York,  yet  it  is  fair 
to  assume  that  a  Harvard  University  man,-  as  was 


OLD   YORK 


137 


the  Rev.  Samuel  Moody,  would  receive  the  utmost 
consideration,  and  that  a  substantial  structure  was 
raised  for  him. 

The  records  show  that  on  April  1,  1747,  the  old 
meeting-house  was  ordered  demolished,  and  such  of 
its  timber  as  was  fit,  should  be  used  in  the  construc- 
tion of  a  new  one.  The  clerk  of  the  meeting  has 
kept  no  record  of  what  was  said  upon  that  auspicious 
occasion,  but  the 
proposition  was 
"vehemently  op- 
posed" at  this 
last  of  many  pre- 
vious meetings  at 
which  a  like  pro- 
position was  de- 
bated.  The 
church-folk  had 
to  "go  into  their 

pockets,"  as  is  usual  in  such  matters;  and,  with  the 
additional  sum  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds, 
voted  to  be  raised  "by  taxation,"  the  church  was 
built  and  dedicated  without  the  usual  presence  of 
the  money-lender.  This  is  the  church  one  sees  to- 
day. The  present  parsonage  is  the  third  one.  The 
first  was  burned  in  1742;  the  second  was  torn  do^vn 
in  1859.  The  last  parsonage  erected  stands  on  the 
fomidations  of  the  first. 

This  parish  was  organized  under  a  warrant  issued 
by  WiUiam  Pepperrell,  justice  of  the  peace,  and  bore 
the  date  of  March  5,  1731.     The  first  parish-meeting 


THE    MOODY    CRADLE 


138  OLD   YORK 

was  held  the  twenty-seventh  clay  of  the  same  month, 
and  the  management  of  its  affairs  was  taken  out  of 
the  hands  of  the  town.  The  next  year  it  voted 
to  purchase  a  slave  for  the  minister.  In  1734,  the 
parish  assessors  were  given  six  hundred  dollars  with 
which  to  buy  another  slave  for  the  minister;  two 
years  later  the  assessors  w^ere  ordered  to  sell  the 
negro  to  the  best  advantage,  and  the  records  show 
no  further  dealing  in  slaves  by  the  Church. 

After  the  death  of  Father  Moody  in  1747,  the 
parish  voted  in  the  aggregate,  sixty-five  pounds  to 
Mr.  Moody's  family  to  enable  them  to  go  into  "  proper 
mourning."  These  votes  were,  no  doubt,  declared 
by  the  moderator  with  due  solemnity.  The  same 
meeting  voted  to  pay  the  doctors'  bills,  which 
amounted  to  twenty-six  pounds  and  seven  shillings, 
all  of  which  is  indicative  of  the  good  feeling  cher- 
ished for  the  clergy  of  those  days. 

One  realizes  how  long  ago  this  was,  wlien  it  is  re- 
membered that  Samuel  Adams  was  making  malt  in 
old  Braintree,  and  that  John  Hancock,  the  man  who 
wrote  his  name  with  such  a  flourish  that  it  w\as 
said  John  Bull  could  read  it  without  his  "specs," 
was  probably  in  "short  clothes,"  when  the  Boston 
Rebel,  as  a  factor  in  provincial  history,  w^as  yet  to 
be  discovered. 

Right  here  by  this  old  church  was  the  ancient 
town-house.  The  remaining  two  of  the  once  four 
elm-trees  a-row,  mark  the  close  vicinage  of  all  these 
early  reachings  out  after  a  better  civilization,  and 
are  of  equal  antiquity.     The  ancient  burial-gromid 


OLD   YORK 


139 


is  just  across  the  way;  and,  altogether  they  make 
a  glorious  quartet.  I  doubt  if  there  be  a  dozen, 
people  in  old  York  to-day  who  can  tell  the  date  of 
setting  out  these  elms,  but  it  was  the  15th  of  April, 


THE  REMNANT  OF  THE  FOUR  ELMS 


1773,  an  old-fashioned  Arbor  Day;  and  where  then 
were  the  dense,  wooded  lands,  are  now  the  clustered 
roofs  and  wide-spreading  lawns,  and  reaches  of  open 
fields,  that  make  old  York  one  of  the  most  delight- 
ful of  Summer  resorts;  in  no  small  degree  distin- 


140  OLD   YORK 

guished  as  the  Summer  home  of  the  gifted  and 
cosmopoHtan  Howells,  and  others  of  the  guild,  as  it  is 
the  Mecca  of  the  artist  and  the  vacation  idler.  Its 
cool  seas,  their  marge  of  rock  and  sand,  the  seduc- 
tive charm  of  its  outdoor  life,  the  restful  quiet  that 
broods  among  the  tops  of  its  incomparable  elms, 
make  a  complement  of  aspects  of  a  most  attractive 
character  when  the  heats  of  August  flood  the  inlands. 

For  so  ancient  a  parish,  the  number  of  pastors 
that  have  filled  its  pulpit  as  regularly  ordained  min- 
isters, have  been  few.  It  will  be  of  interest  to  know 
who  they  were.  First  came  Shubael  Dummer  in 
1662;  Samuel  Moody,  1698;  Isaac  Lyman,  1742; 
Roswell  Messinger,  Moses  Dow,  Eben  Carpenter, 
John  Haven,  John  L.  Ashley,  William  J.  Newman, 
John  Smith,  William  A.  Patten,  William  W.  Parker, 
Rufus  M.  Sawyer,  John  Parsons,  Benjamin  W.  Pond, 
David  Sewall,  followed  in  succession.  The  records 
of  the  old  church  were  destroyed  with  the  burning 
of  the  first  parsonage  in  1742,  which  was  a  loss 
indeed. 

A  second  church  parish  was  organized  in  1732, 
over  which,  on  November  29  of  that  year,  a  son  of 
Father  Moody  was  ordained  —  a  man  of  more  than 
ordinary  acquirement.  Before  coming  to  York,  he 
had  been  town-clerk  of  Newbury,  coimty  register  of 
deeds,  and  a  judge  of  the  court  of  common  pleas.  He 
was  knowm  in  after  years  as  "Handkerchief  Moody." 

In  1792,  a  lightning-rod  was  ordered  for  the  church, 
but  when  the  first  bell  sent  its  clangor  across  coun- 
try on  the  startled  winds  was  minuted  only  in  the 


OLD   YORK  141 

old  parish  record  destroyed  in  the  fire;  but  it  must 
have  been  sometime  prior  to  September  20,  1744, 
for  it  was  on  tliis  last  date  that  it  was  voted  "to 
take  down  the  bell  and  hang  it  upon  crotches,  or  any- 
thing else  erected  for  that  purpose."  March  31, 
1749,  it  was  voted  that  "the  assessors  take  care 
and  hang  the  bell  in  the  steeple  of  the  new  meeting- 
house, at  the  charge  of  the  parish."  Undoubtedly, 
this  was  the  first  bell.  March  25,  a  new  bell  was 
ordered,  not  to  exceed  a  weight  of  four  hundred 
pounds.  August  27,  1S21,  the  parish  voted  "to 
choose  a  committee  to  dispose  of  the  old  bell,  the 
proceeds  to  be  applied  to  the  purchase  of  a  new  one." 
Requisition  was  also  made  on  the  parish  treasury 
for  one  hundred  dollars.  Capt.  David  Wilcox, 
Jonathan  S.  Barrell,  Jr.,  and  Edward  A.  Emerson 
were  a  committee  to  act  in  conjunction  "with  a  com- 
mittee of  subscribers,  for  a  new  bell,  and  make  the 
purchase  of  the  same  as  soon  as  may  be,  and  place 
the  same  securely  in  the  belfry."  In  1834,  a  still 
larger  bell  was  desired,  and  a  parish-meeting  was 
held  to  discuss  the  matter.  Emery  says,  "  the  pres- 
ent bell  is  the  third  or  fourth  one."  There  is  a  reach 
of  salt-marsh  here  which  goes  by  the  name  of  ^^  Bell 
Marsh."  This  was  granted  the  parish  very  long  ago, 
and  sold  by  it,  to  procure  the  wherewithal  to  purchase 
the  first  bronze  Muezzin  of  old  York. 

The  bells  of  York.  What  tales  are  sealed  within 
their  hps!  What  notes  of  sadness,  or  joy,  smothered 
mutterings  of  alarm,  tocsins,  for  the  gathering  of  the 
settlers  for  the  common  defence!  when  — 


142  OLD   YORK 

The  old  cracked  bell  in  the  belfry  tower 
Awoke,  with  swift  and  clattering  note, 

The  somnolence  of  the  morning  hour,  — 
]\Iuttering  deep  in  its  brazen  throat,  — 
Scoured  the  fields  with  militant  boom ; 
Jarred  the  bees  in  the  clover  bloom ; 
The  oriole's  nest  on  its  pendant  limb; 
Silenced  the  sparrow's  matin  hymn. 

What  lyrics  of  the  budding  Spring-time  have  burst 
from  its  vibrant  rim  to  fly  — 

Far  over  the  sunlit  cape  and  wood  — 

to  set  their  fiute-toned  echoes  throbbing  — 

The  music  of  Nature's  solitude! 
Only  the  flicker's  sharp  tattoo 
Drumming  the  apple-orchards  through, 

answers  its  Sabbath  matin  in  these  modern  days. 
What  would  not  one  give  for  the  magic  of  Agrippa, 
to  unlock  tlie  secrets  of  the  rusty  iron  tongue ;  to  bid 
it  ring  out  the  changes  of  the  long-gone  years !  Vain 
regrets:  for  those  days  are  done!    They  are  lost  — 

"In  the  remorseless  flood  of  Time," 

along  with  the  old  sexton  who  lies  somewhere  among 
the  obliterate  mounds  of  the  York  graveyard. 

The  church  beadle  of  those  days  was  not  known 
to  exist,  officially,  in  my  youngsterhood ;  but  the 
deacons  within  my  recollection  did  not  hesitate  to 
perform  their  functions  as  late  as  a  half  century  ago, 
as  many  a  boyish  acquaintance  might  testify,  whose 
mirth  and  untimely  pranks  had  aroused  the  right- 


OLD    YORK  143 

eous  ire  of  these  "pillars  of  the  church"  to  the  dis- 
turbance of  churchly  decorum  and  spiritual  quietude. 
With  such  spiritual  diet,  the  young  folk  grew  pre- 
maturely staid;  and  —  well  they  might— with  a 
pastor  like  Parson  Thomas  Smith  of  old  Falmouth, 
who  once  wrote  in  his  journal  with  a  quaint  con- 
ceit: "I  had  extraordinary  assistance;  was  an  hour 
and  a  half  in  prayer.'"  On  another  occasion,  he 
enters  the  following:  "Preached  p.m.,  and  was  tnore 
than  two  hours  and  a  half  in  sermon;  preached  eitein- 
fore,  all  the  application,  and  had  great  help." 

No  wonder  the  boys  grew  restive,  and  the  old  folk 
got  in  the  habit  of  taking  a  nap  in  sermon-time  — 
a  good  old  custom  which  still  survives  by  prescrip- 
tive right.  The  beadles  must  have  been  well  occu- 
pied, rapping  a  nodding  head  here  and  there,  about 
their  barns  of  churches;  for  they  were  hardly  more. 
The  cattle  in  the  barn-stalls  of  to-day  have  warmer 
quarters. 

Emery  says  of  the  oldest  York  meeting-house: 
"Previous  to  1825,  no  idea  of  warming  the  huge 
structure  seems  to  have  entered  the  minds  of  any 
one;  and  in  cold  weather,  people  muffled  themselves 
up  as  well  as  they  could,  taking  their  foot-stoves  to 
keep  themselves  comfortable.  The  main  entrance 
or  porch  was  on  the  side  next  the  street,  and  facing 
the  cemetery;  there  was  another  door  where  the 
present  pulpit  now  stands.  The  old  pulpit  was  on 
the  north  side.  A  very  large,  arched  window  was 
directly  behind  the  seat  of  the  preacher,  which  seemed 
admirably  adapted  to  keep  him  cool,  especially  in 


144  OLD   YORK 

Winter,  if  the  upholsterer  had  not  vouchsafed  an  im- 
mensely heavy  green  damask  curtain,  from  the  center 
of  wliich  was  suspended  a  huge  tassle."  He  does 
not  say  whether,  the  "tassle"  was  provided  with  a 
mercury  bulb  or  not:  to  my  mind  it  should  have 
been.  For  all  these  rigors,  a  hale  and  hearty  old 
age  prevailed. 

Certainly,  the  years  have  brought  great  ameliora- 
tions to  church-goers.  Not  all  the  churches  of  those 
provincial  days  possessed  bells.  This  was  true  of 
Falmouth,  where  every  Sabbath  morning  the  sexton 
of  the  now  aristocratic  First  Parish,  blew  a  long, 
tin  horn  to  send  its  sharp  notes  flying  about  the 
"clearings,"  and  over  the  wooded  slopes  of  Casco 
Neck  and  across  the  slodder  of  Back  Bay,  warning 
the  people  to  come  to  church.  The  Second  Parish, 
over  which  the  distinguished  Elijah  Kellogg  was 
settled,  and  afterward,  the  like  distinguished  Dr. 
Payson,  used  a  flag  to  summon  its  worshippers.  The 
Episcopalians  had  a  very  small  bell,  of  which  its 
sexton  was  very  proud. 

Said  the  High  Church  sexton  to  his  Second  Parish 
brother,  "Why  do  you  hoist  a  flag?" 

"To  let  the  people  know  your  bell  is  ringing," 
was  the  witty  reply;  a  remark  which  hints  at  the 
petty  cUfferences  that  oftentimes  held  supporters  of 
varying  creeds  aloof,  each  from  the  other,  wherever 
they  might  be  planted.  Tolerance  was  a  plant  of 
slow  growth. 

Attendance  at  church  was  required  of  every  house- 
holder, and  all  under  him.     It  was,  no  doubt,  a  pic- 


OLD   YORK  145 

turesque  sight  to  see  the  people  wending  their  several 
ways  to  the  old  York  church. 

And  then,  out  of  the  shadows  of  the  wayside  elms 
into  the  Summer  sunlight  — 

Through  the  portal  of  the  old  church, 

With  devoutly  solemn  tread, 
Went  the  people  as  befitted, 

With  the  preacher  at  their  head; 
Mistress,  gay  with  gown  and  ruffle,  — 

Slow-paced,  clerkly,  next  the  squire,  — 
Then  the  goodman  and  his  goodwife 

In  their  homely  homespun  wear. 

Bare  its  pine  pews  and  its  pulpit 

In  those  old  Provincial  days ; 
Quaint  its  habit  and  its  worship ; 

Quaint  its  people  and  their  ways ; 
Stark  its  beams  and  low  walls,  creviced 

Wide  with  gaping  seam  and  stain. 
Through  which  blew  the  gusty  sea-winds 

And  the  Summer's  slanting  rain. 

And  out-of-doors,  what  a  delightful  change  with  the 
long  service  concluded,  and  the  cramped  hmbs  feel- 
ing anew  the  leaping  pulse  of  a  welcome  variety, 
with  all  the  wealth  of  Nature  crowding  their  home- 
bent  footsteps,  while  — 

O'er  York's  white  nose  the  sea-winds  blew,  i 

Their  saltness,  cool,  confessing. 
To  lightly  touch  the  dusky  pines 

Their  foliage  caressing. 
Each  breath  of  Summer  air  a  bar 

Of  Nature's  low-pitched  trebles ; 
And  in  the  woods,  sweet  tenor  songs 

Of  crooning  brooks  and  pebbles. 


146  OLD   YORK 

Delinquents  were  promptly  dealt  with.  Those 
living  at  a  distance  came  on  horseback,  their  dames 
astride,  beliind.  The  children  followed  afoot,  carry- 
ing their  shoes  in  Summer,  to  the  church  door,  where 
they  put  them  on,  and  wore  them  through  the  service, 
despite  the  Scriptural  precedent.  Out  of  doors  again, 
the  shoes  were  removed  and  carried  home,  as  they 
were  brought.  The  wealthiest  families  walked  with 
their  families  with  a  slow,  stately  step,  wliile  the 
servants  and  apprentices  and  negroes  followed  at 
a  respectful  distance  behind.  Slavery  was  a  common 
thing  in  the  early  days  of  the  colonies. 

Every  Sabbath  these  actors  appear.  There  is  very 
little  variation  in  the  cast,  sober  enough  at  all  events ; 
only  the  boys  have  come  to  the  estate  of  manhood; 
and  the  older  men  have  in  turn  grown  into  a  second 
cliildhood.  The  stage  is  set  with  the  same  old  pic- 
tures, unless  there  may  be  a  new  homestead  here  or 
there;  a  new  lane  running  up  or  down  the  widening 
purlieus  of  York.  The  two  old  wharves  reach  out 
into  Bra'-boat  Harbor,  a  few  more  ships  are  moored 
in  the  slips,  while  folk  pass  on  to  meeting,  noting 
these  evidences  of  York's  growing  importance. 

In  some  of  the  old  meeting-houses  the  custom  was 
to  put  the  common  folk  in  the  body  of  the  house, 
while  the  gentry  occupied  the  side  pews.  The  pews 
farthest  in  front  were  reserved  for  such  dignitaries 
as  happened  to  be  present;  the  negroes  were  by 
themselves  in  one  corner  —  in  old  York  a  de- 
tested adjunct  of  the  community.  Doubtless, 
these    ways  prevailed  in  esrly  York.     They  would 


OLD   YORK  147 

naturally  follow  any  well-established   precedent   of 
the  times. 

They  were,  however,  in  the  main,  an  intelligent 
independent,  refined  body  of  citizens  —  these  eigh- 
teenth century  people  of  York  —  who  were  slowly 
founding  families  and  fortimes  in  this  coast  town; 
a  brave,  generous-hearted  class  as  one  could  find 
from  Massachusetts  Bay  to  Falmouth.  Nor  could 
they  be  much  else,  with  good  Parson  ^Vloody  to  show 
them  the  way.  The  style  of  living  was  plain,  simple, 
and  often  scant.  Habits  and  tastes  were  of  the  most 
primitive  sort.  Display  in  dress  was  not  uncommon. 
That  the  church  deprecated  this  leaning  to  the  vani- 
ties of  the  world  is  not  to  be  doubted;  but  the  tide 
was  not  to  be  stemmed.  Already  they  had  begun 
to  grow  away  from  the  old  things  as  the  tide  of  pros- 
perity rose,  old  things  that  to-day  are  but  traditions. 
The  cocked  hats,  powdered  wigs,  broidered  waist- 
coats, buckles,  and  gold-headed  canes  of  the  men 
were  not  out  of  place  with  the  brocades,  stomachers, 
head-dresses,  and  gay  cloaks  of  the  high-spirited 
dames  in  liigh-heeled  shoes  and  slippers  with  throats 
and  elbows  daintily  ruffled. 

A  local  historian  describes  a  young  beau  of  the 
period.  "He  wore  a  full-bottomed  wig  and  stock- 
ings, shoes  and  buckles,  and  two  watches,  one  each 
side."  It  is  barely  possible  this  type  is  still  extant, 
in  sentiment,  if  not  in  quaint  habiliment,  for  nowa- 
days the  tailor  helps  to  clobber  many  a  man,  as  he 
did  then.  If  one  feels  like  laughing  at  the  quaint- 
ness  of  the  old  fashions  and  fantastic  rig  in  vogue 


148  OLD   YORK 

among  its  more  fashionably  inclined,  I  have  no  doubt, 
were  they  to  come  among  their  descendants  of  this 
present  day,  they  would  be  (like  that  hilarious  crea- 
tion of  Holmes'  who  burst  his  waist-band  buttons) 
amused,  at  least,  at  the  extravagant  efforts  at  per- 
sonal adornment  of  one  sort  and  another,  which 
accumulate  the  fashionable  attire  of  that  fashionable 
animal,  commonly  dubbed  "swell,"  but  which  the 
experts  at  the  Smithsonian  have  not  yet  had  time 
to  classify.  Human  nature  is  much  after  the  same 
pattern  in  one  century,  as  another,  dependent  upon 
its  environment,  as  upon  its  horse  sense,  and  its 
pocket. 

With  some  people,  to  be  inclined  to  the  cherish- 
ing of  common  things,  is  to  be  "provincial,"  as  if  it 
were  in  such  outrageous  bad  taste  to  foster  those 
tilings  which  pertain  to  the  old  and  primitive  ways 
of  living  with  any  show  of  enthusiasm;  but,  one 
should  thank  the  good  Lord  for  simple  things,  simple 
tastes,  and  simple-hearted  folk  to  enjoy  them.  I 
wish  the  old  days  might  have  lapped  a  little  farther 
over  the  edge  of  the  nineteenth  centur}^  It  is  a  pity 
the  children  of  this  generation  are  not  as  simple- 
hearted  in  many  things  as  were  their  ancestors  of  a 
century  back. 

The  only  thing  that  does  not  change  is  the  sea. 
All  else  goes:  the  restless,  sounding,  life-giving  sea 
tosses  its  foam-streaks  up  the  Long  Reach,  and  the 
surf  at  ebb-tide  piles  its  rough  windrows  of  froth 
across  the  bar  at  the  mouth  of  York  River,  as  coolly 
sinuous   as  when   Parson   Dummer,   from  his  rude 


OLD   YORK  149 

porch  on  Savage  Rock,  looked,  or  dozed  and  dreamed 
to  its  monotonous  lullaby.     It  is  as  glistening  white 
under  the  high-light  of  noon,  as  ruddy  at  dawn,  as 
bloodshot  at  set  of  sun,  and  as   pallid-gray  in  the 
gathering  twilight  as  the  ghostly-hued  reeling  grave- 
stones in  the  burying-ground  that  looks  out  always 
over  this  limitless  field  of  blue  water.    These  bound- 
aries that  men  have  set  up  to  mark  the  line  between 
the  here  and  the  hereafter,  and  that  starkly  throng 
this  gateway  to  the  unknown  country,  look  always 
to  the  sunrise  where  the  white  sails  blow  in  and  out, 
out  over  the  beating  tides,  that  Magdalene-like,  are 
ever  bathing  its  feet  with  salty  tears  —  a  dumb  pen- 
ance, perchance.     They  have  a  look  of  prophecy,  as 
if  of  that  "great  and  notable  day,"  when  these  grass- 
swathed  mounds  shall  gently  part  their  lips,  to  utter 
the  softly-comforting  words  of  the  angel  who  stood 
by  an  old-time  tomb  among  the  olives  of  Jerusalem. 
In  this  old  First  Parish  cemetery  at  York  are 
many  quaint  and  curious  stones  and  epitaphs.     Here 
is  larger  York.     It  is  a  city  of  grass-grown  mounds, 
each  one  a  dwelling-place  for  some  tired,  worn-out 
laborer  of  the  vineyard  who  has  gathered  up  his  or 
her   talent-laden   napkin   to   render   the   inevitable 
accounting;  but  it  is  hard  to  realize  that  this  just 
discernible  swell  of  verdure  holds  the  invisible  date 
of  1648,  and  yet  it  was  just  that  long  ago  the  first 
turf  was  upturned  and  its  first  dead,  carried  thither 
on  the  shoulders  of  sorrowing  neighbors,  was  tenderly 
laid  within  the  folds  of  this  rough,  rock-set  slope. 
But  these  lichen-stained  stones  are,  some  of  them. 


150  OLD   YORK 

very,  very  old;  and  some,  weary  of  their  watch  and 
ward,  have  lapsed  in  their  vigils  and  lie  prone  amid 
the  riant  blooms  that  give  this  mitilled  field  its  only 
color. 

Here  are  some  strange  epitaphs  —  epitaphs  to  suit 
any  taste,  and  that  reminds  one  of  the  storekeeper 
who  kept  "two-quart  jugs  of  all  sizes." 

Here  is  an  old  stone.  You  will  have  to  get  down 
on  all-fours  and  brush  away  the  wild  things  that 
seem  anxious  to  hide  the  caustic  discourtesy  of  tliis 
rough-etched  epitaph —  a  nameless,  dateless  memorial. 
Only  this,  and  nothing  more  — 

"I  am  Somebody: 
Who,  is  no  business  of  yours." 

With  mouth  agape,  one  catches  the  grim  humor 
of  this  degenerate  wag;  the  gloom  of  the  place  parts 
as  one  smooths  the  feathers  of  a  momentary  resent- 
ment to  laugh  and  rejoice  alike  in  the  philosophy 
of  the  defunct. 
,    Here  is  a  fine  strain  of  mortuary  eloquence: 

"Mary  Wainwright, 
1715-1760. 
She  was  good  to  all." 

What  more  could  one  ask  —  a  modest  stone  and 
a  passport  over  the  wall  of  Al  Rakin  to  Abraham's 
bosom  that  will  require  no  viseing  on  the  way!  Na- 
ture has  been  kind,  for  —  see  how  tenderly  the  green- 
ery of  Nature  is  folded  about  the  ancient  slab.  Even 
the  lichens  have  forborne  to  cover  a  single  letter. 


OLD   YORK 


151 


Undoubtedly,  these  lines  glow  wiih  a  warm  phos- 
phorescence in  the  dark.     They  ought,  at  least. 

Here  is  something  of  a  different  sort.  It  is  a  model, 
something  of  the  hatchet-and-can't-tell-a-lie  sort, 
and  it  doubtless  covers  a  multitude  of  sins.  If  Sam 
Slick  had  run  across  it,  he  would  have  appropriated 


i'vw/;rv''V'' 


THE    SEWALL   TOMBS 


it  for  his  own.  Certainly,  once  read,  it  is  not  easily 
forgotten.  As  a  waymark  it  is  as  good  as  any,  and 
bears  the  pleasing  stamp  of  being  the  real  thing. 
It  also  indicates  an  underlying  fine  strain  of  honesty. 
The  briars  do  not  grow  so  thickly  here,  yet  there 
is  a  hint  of  shamefacedness  in  the  tangle  of  swamp- 


152  OLD   YORK 

roses  that  holds  its  neighbor  in  a  riotous  embrace  of 
color  and  sweet  odors. 
Read  it  for  yourself: 

"Here  lies  the  body  of  Jonathan  Drew, 
Who  cheated  all  he  ever  knew ; 
His  Maker  he'd  have  cheated,  too, 
But  that  his  God  he  never  knew." 

He  must  have  been  a  politician  who  had  been 
relegated  to  "the  shelf."  But  Drew  is  a  good  old 
York  name,  a  name  to  conjure  with  in  years  agone 
■  —  but  names,  Hke  men,  sometimes  come  to  base  uses. 

One  of  the  most  notable  spots  in  the  old  yard 
is  the  "resting-place"  of  David  Sewall,  the  jurist. 
The  Sewall  tomb  is  something  of  the  massive  sort, 
an  antique,  among  its  kind ;  but  a  part  of  the  inscrip- 
tion written  after  this  distinguished  gentleman  of 
the  "old  school"  had  been  brought  hither,  may  be 
quoted.     It  appeals  to  me  with  a  singular  force.     It 

is  — 

"  His  house  was  the  abode 
Of  hospitality,  and  friendship." 

As  one  thinks  of  it,  it  seems  to  be  a  fine  free  trans- 
lation of  that  sentiment  cut  into  the  stone  of  Mary 
Wainwright.  Hospitality,  and  friendship  —  it  strikes 
one  that,  at  the  rate  the  commercial  sentiment  is 
overcasting  human  intercourse  and  human  sympa- 
thies, no  great  lapse  of  time  will  be  required  to  place 
them  with  other  words  of  good  old  Saxon  meaning, 
among  the  obsoletes  oi  the  dictionary. 

A  stroll  along  the  ways  of  the  old  town  does  not 


OLD   YORK 


153 


reveal  much  of  the  once  rugged  Hfe  that  was  its  por- 
tion. Roofs  sagging  under  the  infirmities  of  age  are 
rare.  Few  walls  are  discolored  or  stained,  for  all 
their  years  of  sea-fogs  and  salty  drizzle ;  but  here  and 
there  are  old  houses  toned  down  by  that  master  of 


COVENTRY    HALL,    THE    SEWALL    MANSE 


all  art,  Time,  into  medleys  of  charming  color,  topped 
off  here  and  there  with  antiquated  gables  and  gambrel- 
roofs  which  shelter  stores  of  family  traditions.  There 
is  nothing  here  to  remind  one  of  Carlyle's  "smells  of 
Cologne,"  nor  drinking-places,  haunts  of  grievous 
repute.     But   all  is  sweetness  and  content,     ^^'hat 


154 


OLD   YORK 


more  is  needed  with  its  famous  waterside,  the  broad 
beaches  that  flash  the  sun  back  with  every  clear  dawn! 
Yes;  it  is  difficult  to  conjure  up  the  old  days,  with 
all  this  paraphernalia  of  modernness,  staring  one  in 
the  face  at  every  turn  of  the  street;  but  bend  your 
steps  across  the  threshold  of  God's  Acre,  with  the 
old  church-steeple  towering  above  you,  silently  point- 
ing the  way  these  ancient  people  have  gone,  and  the 
spell  is  upon  you;  and  with  the  song  of  the  sea  in 
your  ears,  and  speech  of  the  bells  on  a  Sabbath  morn- 
ing, some  rare  day  in  June,  the  story  of  the  old  days 
of  York  is  hke  an  adventurous  tale  from  the  lips  of 
some  modern  Scheherazade. 


SADDLE-BAG   DAYS 


^^^  ^^^p^pf^ 


SADDLE-BAG   DAYS 

HEY,  who  recall  the  travelling  conve- 
niences of  a  half-century  ago,  even, 
may  well  regard  the  pace  of  the  world 
a  rapid  one ;  for  the  days  of  the  ancient 
and  time-honored  saddle-bag  are  not  so 
f  far  away  after  all.  What,  with  "Flying 
Dutchmen,"  and  "Empire  Limited"  trains 
for  railroad  travel,  upon  which  one  may 
eat,  and  sleep,  at  leisure,  and  at  the  same 
time  span  the  globe  at  a  mile-a-minute 
gait;  while  one  takes  his  sunlight  sifted,  so 
thickly  crossed  are  the  telephone  and  telegraph  wires 
over  one's  head,  and  which  the  modern  wizard  of 
Netteshiem,  Marconi,  proposes  to  send  to  the  junk- 
heap;  storage-batteries  for  electric  lighting,  heating, 
and  motor-power;  with  Macadam  roads  for  the 
horseless  "Wintons";  the  Brewsters  and  Goddards 
upheld  upon  wheels  with  steel  spokes,  and  rimmed 
with  noiseless  rubber  tires,  pulled  along  by  a  horse 
that  has  to  "go"  his  mile  in  two  "flat"  to  get  his 
name  into  the  public  prints,  the  world  has  even  been 
made  over. 

157 


158  OLD   YORK 

When  Santos  Dumont  gets  his  air-Une  incorpor- 
ated, and  horses  are  bred  with  wings,  one  will,  it  is 
quite  likely,  be  beyond  caring  for  the  things  of  this 
world;  but  with  Rontgen  rays,  and  radium,  one  has 
no  idea  of  the  curious  and  startling  happenings  in 
store  for  pampered  humanity.  One  neighbor  has 
been  disembowelled,  had  his  explanatory  notes  elided, 
and  still  preserves  the  outward  appearance  of  an 
unexpurgated  copy;  a  broken  neck  is  mended  as 
well  as  a  bit  of  broken  crockery;  stomachs  are  re- 
moved and  thrown,  along  with  physic,  to  the  dogs; 
Chalmettes  play  with  cobras  and  rattlesnakes,  laugh 
at  their  envenomed  bites,  and  prescribe  their  virulent 
poisons  for  the  serious  ills  of  man.  In  the  venom  of 
the  Gila  monster,  Bocock  has  discovered  a  remedy  for 
locomotor  ataxia;  when  the  anti-venomous  serum  is 
discovered  to  immunize  against  the  bite  of  the  Gila 
monster,  humanity  may  be  declared  safe  from  all  ills  ex- 
cept, what  is  known  in  legal  parlance,  as  the  act  of  God. 

All  these  in  a  half-century ! 

The  latter  days  of  saddle-bags  were  invaded  by 
the  clumsy  thorough-brace  wagon  —  an  affair  that 
would  now  be  regarded  as  an  antique  from  the  wilds 
of  Borneo.  The  old-fashioned  conveyances  for  stag- 
ing across  country  are  almost  within  the  memory 
of  the  present  generation;  but  of  the  times  when 
there  WTre  no  roads,  and  when  settlements  were 
held  together  only  by  tortuous  horse-paths,  there 
is  no  one  alive  to  relate. 

When  Parson  Dummer  made  his  way  eastward, 
he  undoubtedly  came  overland  across  the  Hampton 


OLD   YORK  159 

meadows,  cutting  across  the  head  of  the  Boar,  and 
swimming  the  Piscataqua  with  his  horse,  to  find  at 
York  Harbor,  probably,  his  first  bridge,  the  same 
built  by  Capt.  Samuel  Sewall,  in  1642.  It  must  have 
been  a  tedious  journey  and  full  of  hardship,  and,  per- 
haps, peril.  He  may  have  come  by  water,  a  favor- 
ite conveyance  with  the  people  who  dwelt  in  the  coast 
towns.  The  man  who  celebrated  his  own  ordination 
over  the  First  Church  of  York  in  1662,  educated  at 
Harvard,  must  have  had  a  tremendous  flow  of  vital- 
ity, as  of  soul  —  a  high  courage  and  an  indomitable 
purpose.  It  must  have  been  a  matter  of  solicitude 
to  his  Newbury  friends,  but  he  had  chosen  his  work; 
he  was  needed.  The  popular  preacher  had  not  then 
become  a  factor  in  the  moral  diseases  of  the  com- 
munity. He  was  a  man  for  the  times,  and  what  must 
have  been  the  privations  of  that  sparsely  settled  fron- 
tier town!  He  may  be  called  the  first  Evangelical 
missionary  in  Maine. 

One  year  more  and  the  meagre  settlement  would 
have  rounded  out  two  generations  of  living;  and  then 
the  Indians  fell  upon  it,  to  begin  a  series  of  savage 
raids  that  for  six  years  made  York  a  wilderness, 
almost  —  and  according  to  history,  Parson  Dummer's 
blood  was  the  first  sprinkled  upon  the  altar  of  self- 
sacrifice.  His  story  would  be  eminently  excellent 
reading  for  a  certain  class  of  clerics.  I  have  in  mind 
now  that  most  unusual  spiritual  allegory,  painted 
by  Sigismund  Goetz,  ''Despised  and  Rejected  of 
Men,"  which  one  might  not  hesitate  to  nominate  as 
one  of  the  modern  Gospels  in  pigment. 


160  OLD   YORK 

As  has  been  before  noted,  Father  Moody  came  to 
York  in  1698.  He,  too,  a  Harvard  graduate,  saw  be- 
fore him  the  same  meagre  prospect.  The  General 
Court  allowed  liim  twelve  poimds  (sixty  dollars) 
yearly,  and  it  was  on  this  pittance  he  wrought  in  holy 
bands  among  a  people  too  poor  to  have  a  meet- 
ing-house, and  as  well,  too  poor  to  support  him. 
This  allowance  from  the  General  Court  was  in  answer 
to  his  personal  application.  He  had  declined  a 
stipulated  salary;  and  there  were  times,  it  is  said,  in 
his  ministry,  when  he  and  his  family  were  at  the 
point  of  starvation.  This  is  asserted  upon  good 
authority,  according  to  Emery.  Generous  in  word 
and  thought  to  all,  and  greatly  beloved  by  all,  he 
went  in  and  out  among  his  people  for  a  half-century, 
lacking  a  triplet  of  years,  carrying  the  Light  of  the 
Gospel  with  unvarying  steadiness;  for,  there  is  no 
hint  of  stumbling  in  the  way  he  came,  as  one  goes 
back  over  it.  He  had  the  right  to  regard  himself 
as  the  original  proprietor  in  the  spiritual  field  from 
which  he  was  to  remove  the  tares,  a  position  which 
his  sensitive  temperament  and  over-alert  conscience 
might  constrain  him  to  maintain  at  all  odds,  but 
which  his  endearing  qualities  as  a  man  and  neighbor, 
would  not  permit  him  to  abuse.  He  was  a  partisan, 
undoubtedly,  as  were  all  preachers  of  the  time,  else 
he  would  not  have  been  a  good  churchman.  They 
were  days  when  Precedent  sat  on  the  bench  with 
Law.  Precedent  was  an  excuse  appealed  to  without 
hesitation;  or  rather,  it  was  a  justification  for  much 
that  was  done  in  high  quarters.     Society  went  on 


OLD   YORK  161 

stilts  in  many  ways,  and  the  clergy  mounted  the 
tallest  pair,  which  not  infrequently  carried  them 
into  the  highest  political  and  judicial  positions.  Nat- 
urally, Father  Moody  would  be  a  politician  for  the 
Church,  and  thus  easily  take  to  himself  the  larger 
influence  in  temporal  affairs,  which  were  a  close  ad- 
junct of  the  Church;  but  there  is  no  suggestion,  even, 
that  he  was  ever  the  cause  of  discord  or  heart-burning. 
Thedictum  of  the  minister  often  carried  as  much  weight 
as  if  it  were  the  ipse  dixit  of  the  court  of  last  appeal. 

The  Ancient  Charters  and  Laws  of  Massachusetts 
Bay  abound  in  enactments  which  set  forth  with 
the  rigidness  of  the  Draconian  Code  the  duties  and 
liabilities  of  every  person  within  its  Colonial  juris- 
diction. It  may  be  well  to  quote  somewhat,  as  every 
quotation  will  throw  a  luminous  ray  in  the  direction 
of  what  has  already  claimed  our  attention.  Chapter 
XXXIX,  Section  15  (1646):  "AVherever  the  ministry 
of  the  word  is  established,  according  to  the  order 
of  the  gospel  throughout  this  jurisdiction: 

"  Every  person  shall  duly  resort  and  attend  there- 
unto respectively  on  the  Lord's  days,  and  upon  such 
publick  fast  days,  and  days  of  thanksgiving,  as  are 
to  be  generally  observed  by  appointment  of  authority. 
And  if  any  person  within  this  jurisdiction  shall  with- 
out just  and  necessary  cause,  withdraw  himself  from 
the  public  ministry  of  the  word,  after  due  means  of 
conviction  used,  he  shall  forfeit  for  his  absence  from 
every  such  publick  meeting  five  shillings.  And  all 
such  offences  may  be  heard  and  determined,  from 
time  to  time,  by  one  or  more  magistrates." 


162  OLD   YORK 

This  section  makes  it  a  statutory  offence  to  be  ab- 
sent from  any  church  service.  "Dancing  in  ordi- 
naries (taverns)  upon  any  occasion"  was  punished  by 
a  fine  of  five  shilhngs.  "  Whosoever  shall  be  found 
observing  any  such  day  as  Christmas  or  the  like, 
either  by  forebearing  labour,  feasting,  or  any  other 
way  upon  any  such  account,"  incurred  a  similar  fine. 

Nor  are  there  to  be  any  idle  hands — for  Satan's 
employ;  therefore,  (Chap.  LIII,  Sec.  2)  ''it  is  ordered 
that  no  person,  householder  or  other,  shall  spend  his 
time  idly  or  unprofitably,  under  pain  of  such  punish- 
ment, as  the  county  court  shall  think  meet  to  inflict." 

Here  is  a  sumptuary  law,  Chapter  XCV,  *'  Nor  shall 
any  take  tobacco  in  any  inn  or  common  victual  house, 
except  in  a  private  room  there,  so  as  neither  the 
master  of  the  said  house,  nor  any  other  guest  there 
shall  take  offence  thereat,  which,  if  any  do,  then  such 
person  shall  forthwith  forbear,  upon  the  pain  of  two 
shillings  sixpence  for  every  such  offence." 

These  chapters  begin  with  a  preamble  or  argument, 
and  some  are  certainly  unique,  especially  this  of 
Chapter  CV:  ''Whereas  the  laws  at  several  times 
established  by  the  government  of  this  her  majesty's 
province  of  Massachusetts  bay,  and  now  in  force, 
have  made  good  and  wholesome  provision  for  the 
regulation  of  inns,  taverns,  ale-houses,  victuallers,  and 
other  houses  for  common  entertainment,  and  re- 
tailers of  strong  liquors  out-of-doors,  and  for  prevent- 
ing of  tippling  and  drunkenness,  declaring  that  such 
licensed  houses  ought  to  be  improved  to  the  right 
ends  and  uses  for  which  they  are  designed,  namely, 


OLD   YORK  163 

for  the  receiving,  refreshment,  and  entertainment  of 
travellers  and  strangers,  and  to  serve  the  publick 
occasions  of  the  towns,  and  place  where  they  are, 
and  not  to  be  nurseries  of  vice  and  debauchery,  as 
is  too  frequently  practised  by  some,  to  the  hurt  of 
many  persons,  by  misspending  their  time  and  money 
in  such  houses,  to  the  ruin  of  families." 

"And  have  also  made  good  and  wholesome  pro- 
vision against  immoralities,  vice,  and  profaneness. 

"  Section  5.  And  be  it  further  enacted  that  no  per- 
son or  persons,  either  singly  or  together  in  company, 
shall  presume  to  sing,  dance,  fiddle,  pipe,  or  use  any 
musical  instrument  in  any  of  the  streets,  lanes,  or 
alleys,  within  any  town  in  the  night-time,  or  make 
any  rout,  or  other  disturbance,  to  the  disquiet  and 
disrest  of  any  of  the  inhabitants,  under  a  penalty  of 
five  shillings  for  every  person  so  offending  in  any  of 
the  particulars  aforementioned,  or  being  corporally 
punished  by  imprisonment,  sitting  in  the  stocks,  or 
cage." 

"  And  for  the  more  religious  observance  of  the 
Lord's  day: 

"  Section  6.  Be  it  enacted,  that  all  persons  who  shall 
be  found  in  the  streets,  wharves,  fields,  or  other  places 
within  any  town  on  the  evening  following  the  Lord's 
day,  disporting,  playing,  making  a  disturbance,  or 
committing  any  rudeness,  the  person  so  offending 
shall  each  of  them  pay  a  fine  of  five  shillings,  or  suffer 
twelve  hours'  imprisonment,  sit  in  the  stocks  not  ex- 
ceeding two  hours;  all  fines  and  forfeitures  arising 
by  virtue  of  tliis  act,  or  any  paragraph  thereof,  and 


164  OLD   YORK 

not  herein  disposed  of,  shall  be  to  and  for  the  use 
of  the  poor  of  the  town  where  the  offence  shall  be 
committed,  any  law,  usage,  or  custom  to  the  contrary 
notwithstanding. 

"  And  the  constables  of  the  respective  towns  are 
hereby  directed  and  specially  empowered  to  prevent 
the  profanation  of  the  Lord's  day  by  restraining 
persons  from  walking,  recreating,  and  disporting 
themselves  in  the  streets,  wharves,  or  fields,  in  time 
of  publick  worship." 

In  Section  2  of  this  same  chapter,  the  following 
drastic  quotation  may  be  made,  "That  common 
drunkards  be  posted  up,  at  the  houses  of  retailers 
of  wine  and  liquors,  out-of-doors,  as  the  law  directs, 
to  publick  houses,  with  a  prohibition  to  them  of  sell- 
ing drink  to  any  such." 

That  there  was  some  tendency  to  commit  jelo  de  se, 
is  evidenced  by  the  following.  It  is  unique  in  its 
way,  comprising  the  whole  of  Chapter  LXXXIX: 

"This  court,  considering  how  far  satan  doth  pre- 
vail upon  several  persons  within  tliis  jurisdiction  to 
make  away  themselves,  judgeth  that  God  calls  them 
to  bear  testimony  against  such  wicked  and  unnatural 
practices,  that  others  may  be  deterred  therefrom: 
Do  therefore  order,  that  from  henceforth,  if  any 
person,  inhabitant  or  stranger,  shall  at  any  time  be 
found  by  any  jury  to  lay  violent  hands  on  themselves 
or  be  wilfully  guilty  of  their  own  death,  every  such 
person  shall  be  denied  the  privilege  of  being  buried 
in  the  common  burying-place  of  christians,  but  shall 
be  buried  in  some  common  Mghway,  where  the  select- 


OLD   YORK  165 

men  of  the  town  where  such  person  did  mhabit  shall 
appoint,  and  a  cart-load  of  stones  laid  upon  the 
grave  as  a  brand  of  infamy,  and  as  a  warning  to 
others  to  beware  of  the  like  damnable  practices 
(1660)." 

Here  is  a  unique  provision  in  regard  to  profanity; 
it  is  Section  2,  of  Chapter  XCIV,  and  provides:  ''And 
if  any  person  shall  swear  more  oaths  than  one  at  a  time 
before  he  remove  out  of  the  room  or  company  where 
he  so  swears,  he  shall  then  pay  twenty  shillings." 
Ten  shillings,  or  three  hours  in  the  stocks,  was  the 
penalty  for  a  single  slip  of  the  tongue;  but  in  case 
the  cow  got  into  the  garden  or  wandered  off  into  the 
swamps  just  at  nightfall  when  she  should  have  been 
poking  her  nose  through  the  pasture-bars,  and  the 
goodman  forgot  in  his  annoyance,  the  usual  cow-call 
and  substituted  therefor,  something  of  warmer  tem- 
perature, he  was  in  danger  of  being  soundly  "  whipt, 
or  committed  to  prison."  If  one  had  no  cow,  any- 
thing else  would  do  as  well,  provided  it  was  suffi- 
ciently exasperating.  It  had  not  occurred  to  Satan 
to  institute  "moving-day"  and  introduce  the  incor- 
rigible stove-funnel  into  the  community  at  that  time. 
I  say  Satan;  if  the  delver  after  the  odd  things  of  those 
days  will  look  over  the  preambles  of  such  enact- 
ments as  were  made  for  the  conservation  of  the  public 
morals  of  the  seventeenth  century,  he  will  find  that 
the  devil  is  duly  estimated  in  some  such  form  of  ex- 
pression as  this:  "This  court  considering  how  far 
satan  doth  prevail,"  and  from  a  human  point  of 
view,  perhaps,  these  Puritans  were  half  right;  but 


166 


OLD   YORK 


from  a  look  at  Chapter  LI,  entitled,  "Acts  against 
Heresy,"  one  feels  like  revising  one's  opinion.  After 
enumerating  the  books  of  the  Old  Testament  and  the 
New,  wliich  are  declared  to  "  be  the  written  and  in- 
fallible word  of  God,"  Section  41  begins,  "Whereas, 
there  is  a  cursed  sect  of  hereticks  lately  risen  up  in 
the  world,  which  are  commonly  called  quakers  — "  and 


QUAMPEGAN    FALLS 


ends  with  the  following,  "And  if  any  person  or  per- 
sons within  this  jurisdiction  shall  henceforth  enter- 
tain and  conceal  any  such  quaker  or  quakers,  or  other 
blasphemous  hereticks  (knowing  them  to  be  such) 
every  such  person  shall  forfeit  to  the  country  forty 
sliillings  for  every  hour's  entertainment  and  con- 
cealment of  any  quaker  or  quakers,  etc.,"  and  as  to 
the  poor  Quakers  themselves,  they  were  to  be  taken 
before  the  nearest  magistrate,   when   apprehended, 


OLD   YORK  167 

and  upon  his  warrant  properly  directed  to  the  con- 
stable, they  were  to  be  stripped  "naked  from  the 
middle  upwards,  and  tied  to  a  cart's  tail,  and  whipped 
through  the  town,  and  from  thence  immediately  con- 
veyed to  the  constable  of  the  next  town  towards  the 
borders  of  our  jurisdiction  as  their  warrant  shall  di- 
rect, and  so  from  constable  to  constable  till  they  be 
conveyed  through  any  the  outwardmost  towns  of  our 
jurisdiction." 

In  1661,  this  was  amended  by  the  addition  "pro- 
vided their  whipping  be  but  through  three  towns: 
and  the  magistrates  or  commissioners  signing  such 
warrant  shall  appoint  both  the  towns  and  the  number 
of  stripes  in  each  town  to  be  given."  Upon  the  return 
of  a  Quaker  once  whipt  out  of  town,  "  they  shall  be 
branded  with  the  letter  '  R '  on  their  left  shoulder  and 
be  severely  whipt  and  sent  away  as  before."  Satan 
must  have  rubbed  his  hands  after  a  gleeful  fashion, 
wliile  these  devout  Puritans  drove  the  stakes  and  put 
up  the  ecclesiastical  bars  in  their  religious  fences. 

One  feels  to  exclaim  with  Whittier: 

"  and  these  are  they 
Who  minister  at  thy  altar,  God  of  Right 
Men,  who  their  hands  with  prayer  and  blessing  lay 
On  Israel's  Ark  of  light!" 

Cassandra  Southwicks  were  numerous  in  those  old 
days,  and  one  would  feel  to  say  with  Goodman  Macy, 
to  the  warning  of  the  Puritan  priest  — 

"'  The  church's  curse  beware! ' 
'  Curse  an'  thou  wilt,'  said  Macy,  '  but 
_         Thy  blessing,  prithee,  spare.'" 


168  OLD   YORK 

But  old  York  seems  to  have  escaped  the  stain  of 
these  summary  proceedings  against  "  liereticks." 

As  one  pores  over  these  old  statutes,  along  with 
Mary  Fisher  and  Ann  Austin  rise  up  the  provoca- 
tions offered  the  staid  procurers  of  the  Puritan  Com- 
monwealth, with  Lydia  Wardwell  laying  aside  her 
clothing  to  walk  into  Newbury  meeting-house,  and 
Deborah  Wilson  walking  naked  through  the  streets  of 
Salem.  And  so  it  happened  that  one  August  day 
three  drum-beats  were  heard  in  Boston,  and  two  men 
and  one  woman  hung  pendant  from  as  many  gallows- 
ropes,  while  Endicott,  Bellingham,  and  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Wilson  stood  by  to  see  "the  devil  exorcised."  These 
were  Quakers,  "Sabbath-breakers  and  witches  — 
hereticks." 

So  AVilUam  Robinson,  Marmaduke  Stevens,  and 
Mary  Dyer  won  the  distinction  of  being  the  first  upon 
the  martyr-list  of  the  Colony  of  Massachusetts  Bay, 
a  list  that  was  to  be  grievously  lengthened  through 
the  imbecile  credulity  of  Sewall  and  Stoughton  at 
Salem.  These  laws  seem  very  cruel  to  us ;  but  all  laws 
are  cruel,  though  necessary.  Had  these  come  to 
York  it  is  a  question  whether  the  results  would  have 
been  the  same.  The  woman  who  stood  in  a  sheet  for 
three  Sabbaths  in  succession,  to  make  public  con- 
fession of  her  sin  on  the  last  day  of  her  penance ;  and 
in  a  Scarboro  meeting-house,  too;  and  possibly,  like 
Hester  Prynne,  she  wore  the  first  letter  of  the  alpha- 
bet, in  scarlet,  sewed  to  her  garb;  would  remove  any 
lingering  doubts  we  might  have  on  the  subject. 

These  laws  were  not  of  a  reformatory  character. 


OLD   YORK  169 

They  were  wholly  punitive;  and  Uke  a  searing-iron 
brand,  they  made  the  individual  a  moral  leper  for  life 
and  created  for  their  unblamable  posterity  a  peerage 
of  disgraceful  antecedent  that  generations  of  ex- 
emplary citizenship  could  not  utterly  obHterate.  It 
might  be  well  named,  "  The  Heraldry  of  Satan." 

Lovers  of  Hawthorne,  and  admirers  of  his  best 
work,  undoubtedly  his  "Scarlet  Letter,"  will  appre- 
ciate the  unvoiceable  and  unnamable  terror  that 
smote  the  heart  of  Hester  Prynne  as  she  mounted 
the  scaffold  steps  to  face  the  jibes  and  jeers  of  her 
once-time  friends  and  neighbors. 

The  statute  which  made  such  debasement  of  woman- 
kind possible  —  wholly  indefensible  from  any  point 
of  view  because  it  devitalized  the  soul  and  killed  the 
heart  —  is  Chapter  XXVHI,  of  the  Ancient  Charters 
and  Laws.  With  Hawthorne's  heroine  before  one, 
the  scene  of  her  daily  livings  all  wrought  with  the 
exquisite  art  of  which  Hawthorne  was  master,  is  so 
vivid  that  one  seems  to  be  a  component  veritably,  of 
Hester  Prynne 's  time  and  place,  and  the  act,  itself, 
in  the  original,  like  a  weather-vane,  hales  one's  atten- 
tion to  that  olden  day, 

"Though  you  untie  the  winds  and  let  them  fight 
Against  the  churches  — " 

Here  is  one  of  the  guide-posts  of  the  Puritan  civili- 
zation: "And  if  any  man  shall  commit  adultery, 
the  man  and  woman  that  shall  be  convicted  of  such 
a  crime  before  their  majesties  assize  and  general  gaol 
delivery  shall  be  set  upon  the  gallows  by  the  space  of 


170  OLD   YORK 

an  hour,  with  a  rope  about  their  neck,  and  the  other 
end  cast  over  the  gallows,  and  in  the  way  from  thence 
to  the  common  gaol  shall  be  severely  whipt,  not  ex- 
ceeding forty  stripes  each ;  also  every  person  and  per- 
sons so  offending  shall  forever  wear  a  capital  A  of 
two  inches  long,  and  proportionable  bigness  cut  out 
of  cloath  of  a  contrary  colour  to  their  cloathes,  and 
sewed  upon  their  upper  garments,  on  the  outside  of 
their  arm,  or  on  their  back,  in  open  view;"  and  if 
found  thereafter  "  without  their  letter,"  they  were 
to  be  "  pubhckly  whipt,  not  exceeding  fifteen  stripes, 
and  so,  from  time  to  time,  toties  quoties." 

This  is  the  law  of  1692;  but  here  is  the  law  earher 
of  1634,  Chapter  XVIII,  Section  9.  "  If  any  person 
commit  adultery  with  a  married  or  espoused  wife, 
the  adulterer  and  the  adultress  shall  surely  be  put  to 
death,  Levit.  20.  19,  and  18.  20.     Deut.  22.  23,  27." 

The  second  state  is  worse  than  the  first,  and  like 
Lady  Macbeth  one  cries, 

"Out,  damned  spot!     Out,  I  say!" 

but  it  will  not  out,  along  with  that  other  delusion, 
that  Law  was  a  healer  of  moral  delinquencies,  incor- 
porated in  Section  2,  of  the  same  chapter,  "  If  any 
man  or  woman  be  a  witch,  that  is,  hath  or  consulteth 
with  a  familiar  spirit,  they  shall  be  put  to  death, 
Exod.  22.  18,  Levit.  20.  27.  Deut.  18.  10,  11." 
Strange  and  inhuman  laws  when  — - 

"Scale  of  dragon;  tooth  of  wolf; 
Witches'  mummy;  maw  and  gulf 
Of  the  ravin 'd  salt-sea  shark; 
Root  of  hemlock  digged  i'  the  dark; 


OLD   YORK 


171 


Liver  of  blaspheming  Jew ; 
Gall  of  goat ;  and  slips  of  yew, 
Silver'd  in  the  moon's  eclipse; 
Nose  of  Turk,  and  Tartar's  lips; 
Finger  of  birth-strangled  babe, 
Ditch-deliver'd  by  a  drab," 

made  a  potent  brew  of  which  old  black  Tituba  of 
Salem  must  have  imbibed  inordinately  to  have  filled 
old  Salem  meeting-house  on  that  memorable  first  day 
of  March,  1692,  with  a  gaping,  aghast  crowd  of  men 


"!  y 


v^^. 


THE    SHATTUCK    HOUSE,    SALEM 

and  women  who  had  come  to  the  trial  of  Sarah  Good 
and  Sarah  Osburne,  both  poor  old  wrinkled  women, 
alleged  witches,  with  Jolm  Hathorne  and  Jonathan 
Corwin  on  the  bench  to  render  judgment  for  the  Com- 
monwealth. 

The  trial  opened  with  a  prayer  by  the  Rev. 
Sanmel  Parris  who  invoked  Divine  guidance  for  the 
Court,  the  slave-master  of  Tituba,  whom  he  had 
purchased  in  the  Barbadoes. 


172  OLD   YORK 

Sarah  Good  was  first  arraigned. 

''Have  you  made  a  contract  with  the  devil?  "  was 
Hathorne's  query. 

"No,"  came  tremulously  from  the  old  woman's  lips. 

The  witnesses  were  called;  seven  girls  of  them,  of 
whom  Abigail  Williams,  eleven  years  of  age,  was 
the  youngest ;  and  of  whom  the  eldest  were  EHzabeth 
Hubbard,  EHzabeth  Booth,  and  Sarah  Churchill. 
These  three  were  eighteen  years  of  age.  Two  servant 
girls  made  eleven —  a  "  cloud  of  witnesses." 

"Children,  is  this  the  person  who  hurts  you?  " 

"Yes;  she  is  sticking  pins  into  us!  "  whereupon  the 
girls  made  a  tumult  of  crying  out  as  if  in  great 
bodily  pain,  which  they  kept  up  as  the  examination 
proceeded. 

"Why  do  you  torment  the  children?" 

"I  do  not." 

Nowadays,  the  word  of  an  elderly  person  of  sound 
mind  and  good  repute  is  almost  incontrovertible,  but 
it  is  evident  that  to  the  deluded  Hathorne,  this  old 
woman,  whose  hands  were  already  groping  for  that 
other  Unseen  Hand,  was  not  believed;  and  Sarah 
Osburne  was  bade  to  stand  up,  to  be  tortured  in  her 
turn. 

"Sarah  Osburne,  have  you  made  a  contract  with 
the   devil?" 

"I  never  saw  the  devil." 

"Why  do  you  hurt  the  children?" 

"  I  do  not  hurt  them." 

"She  does!  she  does!"  shouted  the  girls  in  general 
outcry. 


OLD   YORK 


173 


Then  came  Tituba's  turn. 

"Tituba,  why  do  you  hurt  the  children?" 

"I  do  not." 

"Who  is  it,  then?" 

"The  devil,  for  aught  I  know." 

"Did  you  ever  see  the  devil?" 

"Yes;  he  came  to  me  and  bid  me  serve  him.     Sarah 


THE  REBECCA  NOURSE  HOUSE 


Good  and  Sarah  Osburne  wanted  me  to  hurt  the  chil- 
dren, but  I  would  not." 

"How  does  the  devil  appear  when  he  comes  to 
you?" 

"  Sometimes  like  a  hog,  and  sometimes  like  a  great 
black  dog." 

"What  else  have  you  seen?" 


174  OLD   YORK 

"Two  cats;  one  red,  and  the  other  black.  I  saw 
them  last  night,  and  they  said  '  Serve  me; '  but  I  would 
not." 

"What  did  they  want  you  to  do?" 

"Hurt  the  children." 

"Did  you  not  pinch  Elizabeth  Hubbard?" 

"Yes;  they  made  me  pinch  her,  and  wanted  me  to 
kill  her  with  a  knife." 

"How  do  you  ride  when  you  go  to  meet  the  devil?" 

"  On  a  stick.  I  ride  in  front,  and  Sarah  Good  and 
Sarah  Osburne  behind  me.  We  go  up  over  the  trees 
and  in  a  short  time  are  in  Boston  or  anywhere  else." 

It  is  reported  that  this  Barbadoes  negress  narrated 
many  other  strange  things  about  her  acquaintance 
with  the  devil.  She  had  seen  him  frequently  in  a 
tall  black  hat.  An  imp  of  the  devil  came  into  Mr. 
Parris'  house  one  night  and  stood  a  long  time  by  the 
fire.  He  was  hairy,  about  three  feet  tall  and  had  a 
long,  hook  nose.  She  had  a  fertile  imagination  like 
most  of  her  race,  and  doubtless  enjoyed  her  promi- 
nence in  the  affair.  Yes,  she  was  a  witch,  for  she  cor- 
roborated the  girls  and  they  her;  so,  the  people  cried 
out  against  those  two  old  decrepits,  to  remind  one 
of  the  scene  before  Pilate ;  and  the  girls  kept  to  their 
mewing,  creeping,  barking,  and  convulsions  and  out- 
cry, until  Martha  Corey  and  Rebecca  Nourse  were 
haled  in  for  condemnation.  Then  the  old  cart  began 
to  rattle  up  Witch  Hill ;  but,  of  all  the  judges  who 
sat  in  these  cases,  Sewall  was  the  only  one  into  whoee 
soul  filtered  the  light  of  Truth;  the  accusation  against 
Mrs.  Hale  of  Beverly  broke  the  spell;  and  the  law 


OLD   YORK 


175 


against  witchcraft  had  added  the  name  of  Giles  Corey 
tortured  to  death  under  a  heap  of  stone  because  he 
would  not  plead  to  the  indictment  against  him,  to 
those  of  Robinson,  Stevens,  and  Mary  Dyer  —  all 
ineradicable  tragedies,  or  rather  blotches  upon  the 


WITCH    HILL 


otherwise  fair  fame  of  the  Puritan  colonies.  These 
were  grossly  awry  times;  but  such  made  the  laws, 
some  of  which,  even  at  this  far  cry,  glower  from  out 
the  fogs  of  Bygone  land  like  the  one  eye  of  Cyclops 
from  his  Sicilian  fastnesses. 

And  these  laws  were  those  of  York,  whose  first 
court  under  the  domination  of  Massachusetts,  was  held 
right  here  in  old  York  Village  March  17,  1680,  twelve 
years  before  the  Salem  Witchcraft  Trials  began. 
Thomas  Danforth  was  appointed  President;  and  the 
Rev.  Shubael  Dummer  preached  the  election  sermon. 
Such  authentic  records  of  earlier  York  as  exist  out- 


176 


OLD   YORI 


side  the  meagre  and  prior  town  records,  may  be  said 
to  date  from  this  time. 

How  far  away  it  all  seems!  and  how  broken  its 
narrative,  and  how  barren  its  episode  of  humble  life 
and  living!  Yet,  the  link  that  connects  the  Now  with 


YORK   JAIL 


the  Then,  is  a  very  short  one.  If  one  goes  by  the  age 
of  the  world  and  its  dwellers,  it  is  but  a  hand's  span. 
We  are  not  so  much  different  from  our  forbears.  It 
is  only  a  question  of  adaptations  of  things  to  present 
uses  —  the  more  things,  the  more  uses  one  finds  for 
them. 

The  settler  had  no  time  to  go  on  voyages  of  discov- 
ery along  the  lines  of  na  ural  phenomena.  Outside 
of  Franklin  and  his  kite,  the  chart  of  Nature  was  as 
obscure  as  the  maps  of  the  Arabian  cartographers, 


OLD   YORK  177 

or  that  of  Toscanelli,  and  his  conjectural  location  of 
Zipangu.  Nature  had  not  been  recognized  as  the 
store-house  of  Art,  to  which  all  processes  were  akin. 
They  had  pre-empted  the  eternal  hills,  and  the  bowls 
of  verdure  that  lay  between,  for  their  herds  and  flocks. 
There,  their  study  of  Nature's  chemistry  stopped. 
The  rainbow  chasers  of  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth 
centuries  had  given  up  their  search  af.er  mythical 
Eldorados  because  they  had  no  legacies  of  Nature's 
secrets  to  bequeath.  Their  descendants  took  from 
their  estates  only  the  alchemy  of  toil. 

The  differences  are  simply  comparative.  The 
rude  and  rugged  conditions  still  exist  in  the  back- 
woods of  Maine  that  were  once  the  share  of  the  early 
York  settler.  One  does  not  find  much  variation  in 
similar  locaUties.  The  tan  of  Nature  on  the  un- 
painted  house  of  to-day  is  the  dun-hue  that  marked 
that  of  Parson  Dummer's  parsonage  on  the  edge 
of  Savage  Rock,  and  that  overlooked  the  marsh 
grasses  of  York  River.  The  hedges  have  the  same 
characteristics  of  growth.  The  birch  throws  its  yel- 
low fringe  to  the  same  idly-blowing  winds.  The 
sumac  burns  as  brilliantly  in  its  shadow,  to  touch 
elbows  with  the  scrawny  dwarfs  that  huddle  along 
the  edges  of  the  woodland.  Like  lines,  hatched  care- 
lessly, the  purple  briar  stems  mingle  and  mix  with 
the  hues  that  blend  into  a  harmony  of  tones  and 
half-tones,  like  the  notes  of  a  musical  composition. 
If  the  old  settler  saw  these  things,  he  has  never  men- 
tioned it.  He  was  better  acquainted  with  creeds 
and  polemics,  if  the  literary  products  of  his  time  are 


178 


OLD   YORK 


to  be  taken  as  a  criterion.  Literally,  the  old  Anglo- 
Saxon  cotset  is  admirably  applicable  to  the  general 
conditions  which  made  up  the  environment  of  the 
earliest  comers. 

The  same  wild  grasses   paint  the  hillsides  with 
emerald  now,  as  then.    The  same  delicate  lichens, 


THE    WITCH  S    GRAVE 


with  their  parti-colored  dyes  of  gray,  brown,  and  olive, 
streak  the  ledges  of  Agamenticus;  and  it  is  the  same 
with  men.  One  man's  corn  or  grain  differs  not  much 
from  his  neighbor's.  His  acres  may  have  yielded 
more,  a  condition  dependent  on  soil,  treatment, 
labor  processes,  and  farm  economics.  Once  in  the 
garner,  they  find  the  same  market  and  a  like  price. 
One  man  goes  one  way,  another,  and  another,  to 
overtake  one  the  other,  or  to  meet  at  the  fork  of  the 


OLD   YORK  179 

roads.  The  surprise  is  mutual;  but  so  long  as  the  old 
ruts  are  at  one's  feet,  it  is  natural  men  should  prefer 
them  to  newer  and  untried  ways.  An  old  rut  is  like 
an  old  shoe  —  "  dreffle  easy  t'  the  fut." 

Doubtless  there  are  some  old  ruts  in  the  York  of 
to-day;  and  should  one  saunter  down  to  the  old  Don- 
nell  Wharf,  or  into  the  old  burying-ground,  one 
might  find  there  some  things  which  are  not  suscepti- 
ble of  the  theory  of  integral  calculus. 

These  old  days,  with  their  formalities  and  restric- 
tions, are  like  worn-out  fields  that  have  run  to  "  spear 
grass"  and  seem  hardly  worth  the  mowing;  but  turn 
them  up  with  the  plough,  and  harrow  them  up  and 
down,  and  one  gets  a  rich  return  of  storied  tradition, 
once  real  enough,  but  now  illumined  and  softened  by 
that  distance  that  — 

"lends  enchantment  to  the  view;" 

meanwhile  the  legends  grow,  and  the  heart  fills  and 
goes  out  to  the  gentle-mannered  dames,  and  the  "old- 
school"  gentlemen  who  fill  in  the  middle-ground  be- 
tween the  amenities  of  aesthetic,  art-environed  to- 
day, and  strenuous,  horny-handed  yesterday. 

I  wish  I  might  find  that  old  journal  which  Parson 
Moody  must  have  kept,  for  it  was  the  habit  in  those 
days  for  the  educated  man  to  preserve  some  record 
of  his  own  accomplishments,  not  so  much,  perhaps,  for 
the  pleasure  it  would  give  to  unborn  generations,  as, 
that  by  so  doing,  events  would  be  fastened  more  se- 
curely in  his  mind,  trivial  enough  in  their  day,  with 
here  and  there  a  random  thought  which  would  po- 


180  OLD   YORK 

tently  reflect  the  manners,  feelings  and  sympathies 
of  those  with  whom  daily  contact  was  not  only  a  duty 
but  a  profitable  pleasure.  It  would  make  mention 
of  many  things  that  have  forever  passed  the  scope  of 
the  most  industrious  scrutiny.  I  should  have  sup- 
posed he  would  have  written  something  of  the  beadle, 
whose  care  was  that  the  boys  "  are  jiiuilty  of  no  mis- 
demeanors at  the  Meeting-house  on  the  Sabbath/' 
a  needful  provision,  if  one  accepts  Longfellow,  that, 

"A  boy's  will,  is  the  wind's  will," 

and  the  good  old  poet  ought  to  have  known ;  for  he 
lived  on  the  hither  edge  of  the  days  these  pages  are 
in  some  degree  delineating.  Old  Father  Moody  must 
have  had  many  a  spell  of  unconscious  cerebration,  and 
no  doul^t  many  a  latent  thought  of  his  would  have 
found  place  on  one  page  and  another  as  it  passed 
under  his  hand. 

But  those  cold,  blustering,  winter  Sabbaths!  The 
fireless,  roughly-boarded  old  church,  the  slow-sing- 
ing of  the  ''lined-out"  hymns,  the  prayer  and  sermon 
dragging  their  slow  lengths  along  the  frost-laden  air, 
called  for  not  only  a  fortitude,  incomprehensible  to  the 
modern  devotee,  but  a  loyalty  to  religious  observance 
which  certainly  required  a  fine  of  five  shillings  and 
costs  to  give  it  proper  stamina. 

The  youngsters  must  have  been  a  stolid  set  not  to 
have  thrashed  about  a  little  bit,  with  so  great  a  prov- 
ocation under  foot.  For,  I  much  doubt  if  the  women 
shared  their  foot-stoves  with  anybody;  and  queer 
clumsy-like  things  they  were  —  square  boxes  of  sheet- 


OLD   YORK  181 

iron,  punched  with  holes,  in  the  bottom  of  which 
was  an  ash-pan  filled  with  live  coals  from  the 
home  fireplace.  It  is  doubtful  if  these  meeting- 
houses had  so  much  as  a  huge  hearth  from  which  these 
foot-stoves  could  be  replenished,  and  which  took  the 
place  of  the  soapstone  of  to-day.  The  men  were  hard- 
ened to  the  cold,  and  the  women  as  well;  and  the 
cliildren  were  toughened,  bit  by  bit,  into  uncom- 
plaining types  of  their  elders. 

In  those  days,  and  even  at  the  beginning  of  the 
last  century,  churches  were  without  fires.  Full  of 
windows,  the  rough  wintry  winds  smote  their  loose 
rattling  sash,  and  their  low  gables,  and  crept  through 
every  crack  and  crevice,  of  which  there  were  many, 
in  these  rude  structures.  One  recalls  here,  that  the 
old  Pejepscot  meeting-house,  now  used  as  a  town- 
house,  was  sheathed  with  birch  bark.  Certainly, 
church-goers  must  have  been  stoics,  and  of  unlimited 
patience.  Whether  the  hard  bare  benches,  a  zero 
atmosphere,  long,  interminably  long  prayers  and  ser- 
mons then  in  vogue,  were  conducive  to  a  "lowly  and 
contrite  heart,"  may  well  be  doubted;  but  the  absence 
of  any  amenities  in  their  worship  was  in  perfect  con- 
sonance with  the  strength  and  ruggedness  of  the  char- 
acter so  evidently  possessed  by  the  founders  of  this 
old  York  settlement. 

The  sure  result  of  these  old-time  experiences  and 
teachings  was  patience.  Patience  begat  courtesy; 
courtesy,  gentleness  of  manners ;  and  out  of  this  latter 
came  grace,  good-breeding,  a  delicate  consideration 
for  others,  and  a  reverence  for  good  things. 


182  OLD   YORK 

I  remember  a  fashion,  a  remnant  of  these  manners, 
worn-out  almost  in  my  short-clothes  clays,  how  the 
school-children,  whenever  the  minister  came  along 
the  highway,  stood  arow  by  the  roadside,  with  hats 
and  wide-brimmed  bonnets  doffed,  while  the  object 
of  all  this  gentle  courtesy  and  deference  walked  or 
jogged  his  horse  complacently  past  in  his  two- wheeled 
chaise  —  one  of  the  same  kind 

"  That  was  built  in  such  a  wonderful  way 
It  lasted  a  hundred  years  to  a  day  —  " 

deeply  buried,  no  doubt  in  theologic  abstractions,  or 
lost  in  perplexing  calculations  of  a  temporal  character 
as  became  the  chairman,  ex-officio,  of  the  parish  com- 
mittee on  ways  and  means ;  with  but  a  scant  word  of 
recognition  for  the  rusticity  that  did  liim  so  much  ad- 
olescent courtesy.  But  the  charming  simplicity  of 
that  time  has  passed  away.  Quality,  weight,  and 
measure,  from  the  stocks  and  bonds  pomts  of  view, 
are  the  gauge  of  nowaday  courtesies.  Men  respect 
others  for  what  they  are,  and  what  they  are  able  to 
get  for  themselves,  and  not  so  much  for  the  positions 
they  command  by  family  influence  or  the  prestige 
which  has  been  passed  to  them  by  a  Court  of  Surro- 
gate. As  for  the  young  folk,  they  spend  their  time 
in  growing  a  set  of  knobs  and  protuberances  to  be 
knocked  off  later  in  life,  which,  well-rid  of,  graduates 
them  into  the  staidness  of  a  settled  career. 

I  have  m  mind  an  old-school  clergyman  who  was 
settled  over  an  up-country  parish  years  ago.  He 
was  an  old  man  when  I  knew  him  first  and  of  whom 


OLD   YORK  183 

Father  Moody  might  have  been  a  near-by  prototype ; 
with  the  difference,  that  the  courtly  short  breeches, 
knee-buckles,  long  figured  waistcoats  and  sugar-loaf 
hat,  had  been  conjured  by  fashion  into  the  more  pro- 
saic garb  of  the  nineteenth  century;  and  who,  with  his 
people,  quaint  and  olden  in  their  habits,  manners, 
and  living,  had  been  picked  up  bodily  by  some  wan- 
dering Roc  and  dropped  a  half-century  inland.  All 
else  was  much  the  same,  and  delightfully  old-fash- 
ioned. Like  the  typical  Puritan  of  Hawthorne,  he 
was  tall,  lank  and  raw-boned;  big  of  frame  and  sparse 
in  flesh;  but  abundant  in  conscience  and  untiring  de- 
votion; whose  suit  of  doeskin,  rusty  and  threadbare, 
bore  marks  of  long  wear,  with,  here  and  there,  a  tell- 
tale patch  of  economy  —  indicative  of  a  pinched 
stipend,  or  what  was  more  likely,  an  active  sympathy 
for  the  parish  poor.  He  was,  in  truth,  a  leader  of 
the  church  militant;  and  the  patches  on  the  knees  of 
his  much  mended  trousers,  were  to  him  the  scars  won 
in  many  a  prayerful  battle  with  the  Father  of  Lies. 
He  was  a  man  of  long  prayers  and  longer  sermons. 
Whatever  of  kindliness  he  bore  to  others  was  masked 
under  a  long-drawn,  solemn  visage,  and  a  most  dig- 
nified and  serious  demeanor.  Not  in  the  least  an 
ascetic,  he  was  inwardly  all  piety  and  love. 

A  half  a  hundred  years,  probably  he  held  his  pas- 
torate, to  die  at  last  as  do  others;  but  old  parson 
Richardson  could  go  about  his  parish,  and  in  and  out 
its  hillside  homes,  in  garb  of  ancient  cut  and  sad 
dilapidation,  or  drive  along  the  highway  behind  his 
like  ancient  nag  in  his  old  leather-topped  chaise,  and 


184  OLD   YORK 

no  one  laughed  at  him  or  his  turn-out;  but  his  more 
youthful  successor  could  not.  Dress  had  come,  after 
all,  to  have  a  value  in  the  average  country  mind,  and 
there  were  no  presumptions  in  favor  of  the  new- 
comer. 

The  minister  of  the  "saddle-bag"  period  never 
outgrew  his  parish;  nor  did  the  parish  ever  get  res- 
tive or  uneasy,  or  long  for  the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt. 
Once  settled,  he  was  the  patriarch  of  his  flock.  Stern 
of  countenance,  austere  of  greeting,  and  even  eccen- 
tric in  his  manner,  he  might  be.  He  was  a  University 
man  if  the  parish  were  Congregational.  He  was  loved, 
respected,  and  in  his  extreme  age  venerated.  His 
people  were  his  flock:  he  was  their  shepherd;  and  when 
the  light  began  to  fail  along  his  path,  he  was  solici- 
lously  cared  for.  When  the  light  was  utterly  blown 
out,  his  last  word  was  cherished  as  a  henedicite. 
Those  were  the  good  old  saddle-bag  days,  when 
Things  did  not  move  so  rapidly  as  to-day,  or  get  to 
jogging  elbows  disagreeably  in  church  matters. 

There  are  numerous  meeting-houses  scattered 
through  New  England,  doubtless  contemporary  with 
this  ancient  structure  at  York.  They  were,  from  an 
architectural  point  of  view,  built  along  the  same 
lines,  and  in  their  day  regarded  as  models  of  elegance 
and  structural  beauty.  I  have  one  in  mind,  now 
abandoned  for  a  newer;  but  the  elder  is  superior  to 
its  successor  from  every  point  of  view.  Its  pews  are 
of  the  straight-backed  sort.  The  family  seat  faced 
the  l3ody  of  the  church.  To  occupy  it  was  to  feel 
that  one  was  the  object  of  much  staring;  but  it  was 


OLD   YORK  185 

a  vantage-point  from  which  to  see  all  that  was  going 
on;  and  many  a  sly  wink  and  grimace  were  indulged 
in,  though  a  gentle  nudge  was  sure  to  follow.  This 
pew  was  occupied  every  Sabbath  of  the  year,  almost, 
''rain  or  shine."  Old  Parson  Richardson  usually 
reached  his  limit  somewhere  around  the  "  and,  thir- 
teenthly  " — numerically;  that  was  about  as  far  as 
he  ever  got  —  as  if  that  were  not  enough;  and  all 
of  which  was  taken  with  a  wholesome  awe  antl  pro- 
found respect.  However,  when  the  "and  lastly" 
was  reached,  a  bustle  of  gratified  expectancy  ran  over 
the  church  as  the  women-folk  began  to  fuml^le  for 
their  "Watts  and  Select,"  or  fingered  their  pockets 
for  a  bit  of  sugared  calamus  root  with  which  to  clear 
their  throats,  and  the  men  got  out  their  l)ig  red  hand- 
kerchiefs with  which  to  blow  their  individual  noses 
by  way  of  climax  to  the  closing  of  the  sermon. 

One  would  need  but  a  single  experience  to  realize 
how  restful  it  was,  the  rising  and  singing  of  that  last 
hymn,  with  every  face  turned  to  the  singing-seats 
in  the  narrow  gallery  that  spanned  the  front  gable 
of  the  church,  where  the  crowded  choir,  aided  by 
"ye  little  and  ye  big  fiddles,"  sang  with  an  unction 
and  a  volume  of  sound ;  but ,  what  a  commotion  when 
these  "worldlie"  instruments  came  first  to  be  used 
in  the  old  church!  Old  ties  were  like  to  be  split 
asunder;  but  good  sense  prevailed  then,  nmch  as  in 
these  later  days. 

The  preacher's  trenchant  voice  did  not  admit  of 
much  dozing  or  sleeping  in  the  congregation,  as  is 
somewhat  the  fashion  in  these  times;  and  the  deacons 


186  OLD   YORK 

were  ever  on  the  alert  for  the  skitterwit  boy  who 
indulged  in  obstreperous  misbehavior.  They  did 
not  hesitate  to  take  such  to  their  own  pews,  much  to 
the  chagrin  of  the  thoughtless  urcMns  who  were  so 
unfortimate  as  to  get  caught.  High,  rough-plas- 
tered walls,  wide-staring  windows  looked  down  upon 
this  scene.  Among  the  cramped  pine  seats  of  the 
singing-gallery,  dangled  the  bell-rope  from  the  belfry, 
which  always  creaked  and  scraped  loudly  when  the 
sexton  rang  or  "set"  the  heavy  bell.  Crooked,  rust- 
eaten  fimnels  towered  crazily  above  the  stoves,  and 
then,  turning  a  sharp  angle,  stretched  the  entire 
length  of  the  church  to  disappear  in  the  ceiling  over 
the  huge  mahogany- veneered  pulpit.  Exceeding 
steep  flights  of  steps  ran  up  from  the  dais  on  either 
side,  and  up  which,  every  morning  and  afternoon, 
an  old  man  climbed  slowly  and  unsteadily  to  over- 
look the  well-filled  pews. 

It  is  something  to  be  able  to  live  over  the  old  life, 
if  only  in  one's  thought.  It  is  much  to  have  such 
to  relive.  It  softens  the  harsh  lines;  and  like  the  old 
tasks,  long  ago  laid  aside,  their  irksomeness  is  gone. 

Outside  the  Sunday  services,  other  than  the 
quarterly  conference,  which  was  sometliing  of  a  visit- 
ing episode,  and  that  rounded  out  the  clerical  year, 
was  getting  the  minister's  wood  and  the  donation 
j)arty,  customs  now  grown  obsolete  in  a  great  meas- 
ure, yet  something  of  a  vogue  in  the  "back"  parishes 
where  the  minister  takes  to  preacliing  to  eke  out  a 
scanty  farm-living,  with,  perhaps,  though  not  often, 
it  is  to  be  said,  to  the  credit  of  the  cloth,  a  bit  of 


OLD   YORK  187 

horse-trading,  now  and  then ;  which  was  not  supposed 
to  interfere  with  the  pastoral  duty,  unclerical  as  it 
might  seem. 

It  is  almost  a  generation  and  a  half  since  I  went 
to  the  last  of  these  charitable  happenings  in  my  coun- 
try life.  The  wood  question,  hauling  the  minister's 
wood,  came  earliest  in  the  season.  It  was  followed 
about  midwinter  with  a  "donation."  After  the  first 
snows  came,  —  and  it  seems  as  if  they  came  earlier 
and  deeper  then,  —  the  menfolk  turned  out  with 
their  oxen,  sleds,  and  axes,  and  driving  into  the  wood- 
land of  some  generously  disposed  parishioner,  the 
onslaught  among  the  beeches  and  maples  began.  A 
dozen  axes  made  sharp  music,  and  the  minister's 
woodpile  grew  apace.  For  all  tliis,  he  was  to  be 
pitied;  for  often,  while  liis  neighbors'  fire  was  ablaze 
with  summer-seasoned  wood,  cut  and  split  while  the 
March  snows  were  settling,  and  seasoned  with  scents 
of  apple  blossoms  and  the  songs  of  sunmier,  and 
stored  in  the  ample  sheds,  the  August  sunshine  filling 
its  fibres  with  crackling  heats,  the  parson  sat  beside 
his  slow-burning  fire  of  frostbound  sticks,  coaxing 
now  and  then  a  tardy  blaze  with  which  to  set  liis  thin 
blood  aglow. 

Sometimes  a  load  of  well-seasoned  birch  in  rags 
and  tatters  of  snowy,  sun-bleached  bark  for  swift 
kindling,  found  its  way  into  the  parsonage  outhouse. 
Then  the  old  man's  heart  glowed  like  the  cheery  flame 
that  lay  within  the  secret  cells  of  wood.  Sometimes 
at  noon  when  the  school  was  out  the  larger  boys 
would  chop  at  the  minister's  wood-pile,  but  his  axe, 


188  OLD   YORK 

like  some  of  his  sermons,  was  very  dull,  and  the  boys 
would  get  discouraged,  and  then  he  would  have  to 
take  a  hand  himself,  or  fare  worse.  I  have  thought, 
sometimes,  if  they  who  show  the  way  knew  more  of 
the  work  men  do  with  their  hands  they  might  get 
nearer  the  people  than  they  do. 

The  "donation"  was  as  likely  to  occur  on  a  Febru- 
ary night  as  any  other,  when 

"Half  the  corn  and  half  the  hay  " 
had  gone  with  Candlemas  Day,  But  there  was  a  grim 
sequel  to  this  coming  of  the  good  people  of  the  parish, 
with  their  buttered  bread  and  doughnuts,  their  black 
pots  of  baked  beans,  and  loaves  of  rye  bread  baked  in 
wide-flaring,  ten-quart  tin  pans,  that  came  with  the 
cleaning  up  of  the  "left-overs,"  with  crumbs  of  all 
sorts  trodden  into  the  carpets,  and  the  pantry  all 
askew. 

Money  was  not  over-plentiful;  "four  'n'  six"  a 
day  for  rustic  labor  might  be  taken  to  indicate  its 
ratio  of  value  to  other  things.  Giving  "  things  "  was 
easier  than  giving  money.  But  this  was  a  much 
talked  of  event.  It  meant  an  outing  for  the  young 
folk  at  a  time  when  cards  and  dancing  and  parties 
were  not  countenanced  among  the  strictly  orthodox, 
—  an  evening  of  sober  enjoyment  and  social  inter- 
course for  their  elders.  It  was  an  informal  reception 
at  which  the  youngest  was  as  welcome  as  the  eldest. 
But,  somehow,  the  best  was  always  thought  too  good 
for  the  parson's  family;  so  whatever  went  out  of  these 
many  households  into  his,  was  such  as  would  be  the 
least  missed  from  the  home  larder. 


OLD   YORK  189 

It  was  "early  candlelight,"  hardly,  on  this  Feb- 
ruary afternoon  when  the  folk  began  to  gather  at  the 
parsonage.  As  team  after  team  drove  up,  the  lan- 
tern lights  dodged  in  and  out,  or  swung  up  and  down 
like  so  many  will-o'-the-wisps,  faint  and  grimm^ring. 
The  snow  creaked  in  a  cheery  way  under  the  sleigh 
runners;  the  barn  doors  rattled  a  noisy  welcome;  the 
house  doors  flew  open  with  every  fresh  alarm  of  jing- 
ling bells,  letting  bars  of  nebulous  light  out  into  the 
biting  night  wind  that  brought  down  hosts  of  fine 
snowflakes  from  the  roofs  to  pile  the  drifts  in  the 
narrow  yard  still  higher.  Later,  the  parish  folk  are 
all  here.  The  parish  includes  the  entire  neighbor- 
hood, unless  the  contingent  of  corner  grocery  habi- 
tues, who  are  never  to  be  found  elsewhere  so  long  as 
the  trader  will  contribute  lights  and  fuel,  and  who 
lounge  about  the  hacked  settees,  are  excepted.  The 
parson's  wife  is  sent  into  the  best  room  to  assist  her 
husband  in  receiving;  and  the  neighborhood  matrons 
take  possession  of  the  kitchen,  where  everything  is 
being  made  ready  for  the  feast,  a  sort  of  mysterious 
procedure,  along  with  much  voluble  comment  and 
critical  sampling  individual  contributions. 

Every  room  glows  with  open  fires  and  the  mellow 
light  of  home-made  candles ;  the  stairways  creak  with 
the  young  folk  going  up  and  down,  laughing  and 
romping  at  will  through  the  house,  which  really  en- 
joys this  lapsing  from  its  customary  staidness.  Oc- 
casionall}^  the  wind  swoops  down  against  the  north 
gable,  with  a  buffet  that  makes  the  roof-tree  quiver 
with  shrill  weird  notes  of  complaining;  the  nails  in 


190  OLD   YORK 

the  clapboards  snap  loudly;  while  Jack  Frost,  with 
his  proverbial  lack  of  manners,  peeps  in  at  the  cor- 
ners of  the  windowpanes,  and  wherever  his  breath 
touches  them  gather  tufts  of  queerly  shaped  wrin- 
kles, that  grow  into  wonderful  ferns  and  clumps  of 
foliage.  But  this  was  not  all.  The  apple-trees  and 
the  lilac  bushes  in  the  front  yard  whistled  softly  to 
each  other  as  the  wind  jumped  off  the  low  roof,  or 
whirled  around  the  white  gable ;  and  they  wished  th3m- 
selves  grown-up  folk,  so  they  might  shake  the  hand  of 
the  good  old  parson  and  his  sweetfaced  wife,  but  all 
they  did  was  to  rub  their  scrawny  limbs  against  the 
side  of  the  house  with  a  rough  caressing,  that  no  doubt 
took  the  will  for  the  deed;  for  from  the  outside  the 
parsonage  seemed  on  the  broad  grin,  with  so  many 
flashing  firelit  windows,  and  such  a  continuous  trail 
of  ruddy  sparks  scurrying  away  from  its  low  chim- 
ney tops.  The  sleigh-bells  had  a  great  time,  talk- 
ing back  and  forth,  as  the  horses  took  up  one  foot 
after  another,  only  to  put  them  back  again  into  the 
crisp  snow,  and  thoroughly  discontented  with  noth- 
ing better  in  view  than  a  rickety  board  fence  that 
served  as  a  boundary  line  and  a  hitching-post  alike. 
The  old  parsonage  seemed  "possessed,"  and  fairly 
shook  with  laughter,  with  all  its  pent  jollity.  Time 
went,  on  this  night,  if  it  never  did  before ;  and  it  was 
not  long  after  "grace"  that  the  supper  was  eaten  — 
the  children  were  served  last  —  when  the  little  Gothic 
clock  on  the  kitchen  shelf  struck  ten  halting  strokes, 
each  one  a  thin-timbred,  high-pitched  note  —  as  if 
long  ago  worn  out  with  so  much  iteration.     Then 


OLD   YORK  191 

the  parish  folk  said,  "Good-night"  one  by  one,  to 
go  out  into  the  dark,  leaving  the  parson  and  his  wife 
to  rake  up  the  smouldering  coals  with  tired,  tremu- 
lous hands,  covering  them  deep  in  the  gray  ashe\ 
That  done,  they  sat  down  to  count  the  cost.  This 
having  to  count  the  cost,  was  the  bane  of  the  old- 
fashioned  donation-party,  when  those  who  came, 
ate  up  all  they  brought,  as  was  often  the  case.  No 
doubt  any  one  of  the  good  old  pastors  of  this  ancient 
church  of  York  could  have  told  the  story  much  better, 
and  I  should  very  much  prefer  to  have  used  quota- 
tion marks  in  the  relation,  but, 

"Where  to  elect  there  is  but  one, 
'Tis  Hobson's  choice;  take  that,  or  none." 

The  minister  of  the  old  days  was  looked  upon  as 
a  man  of  superior  education ;  and  the  York  ministers 
were  not  one  whit  behind  the  best  men  of  the  times. 
All,  conscientious  disciples  of  the  Man  of  Galilee, 
their  labors  were  of  arduous  and  unremitting  char- 
acter, and  their  lines  were  cast  amid  rough  waters. 
What  would  not  one  do  or  where  would  not  one  go, 
to  find  that  journal  of  neighborhood  happenings, 
quaint  pen-pictures  of  current  events,  in  which  as 
much  was  written  about  himself  as  of  his  neighbors 
and  their  doings,  which  each  of  these  stewards  of 
the  vineyard  must  have  kept!  Stories  of  earth- 
quakes, the  untimely  frosts  of  1794;  the  poverty  year 
of  1815  with  its  heavy  snow  of  June  9,  and  the  great 
snowfall  of  February  20,  1717,  when  the  houses  were 
buried,  and  Boston's  cow-lanes  were  clogged  with  a 
single  fall  of  six  feet  of  snow,  would  have  had  perti- 


192  OLD   YORK 

nent  mention.  There  were  no  wagons  in  those  days  — 
nothing  but  bridle-paths  along  the  sands,  out  through 
the  swamps,  up  over  the  rugged  hills,  and  threading 
the  dense  woods,  and  which  were  dignified  by  the 
General  Court  as  "roads,"  for  which  appropriations 
were  made  and  expended.  Old  York  was  indicted 
for  neglect  of  highways  in  1664,  and  this  was  the 
"road"  ordered  by  the  General  Court  to  be  cut  from 
the  head  of  Roger's  Cove  to  Bra'boat  Harbor,  "and 
on  unto  the  little  marsh  near  unto  Captain  Camper- 
nowne's  house,  and  so  to  William  Hilton's  at  Ware- 
house Point,  the  inhabitants  of  Gorgeana  to  cut  unto 
a  cove  near  to  John  Andrew's  and  the  inhabitants 
of  Pascataquack  from  William  Hilton's,  and  to  be 
done  by  30  Oct.,  1649." 

These  roads  were  hardly  more  than  foot-paths 
from  house  to  house,  often  impassable  in  winter;  and 
it  was  through  these  blockades  the  minister  went  if 
he  went  at  all,  when  he  made  his  visits  to  his  pa- 
rishioners, and  where  he  was  always,  if  report  be 
true,  a  welcome  visitor.  What  a  dearth  of  neigh- 
borhood calls  there  must  have  been  in  those  days! 

But  this  was  not  all.  Provisions  were  scanty; 
famine  stared  the  township  in  the  face  more  than 
once,  with  so  many  men  away  fighting  the  Indians, 
and  so  much  of  danger  threatening  those  who  ven- 
tured into  the  fields  to  plant  them,  or  to  gather  their 
crops.  It  might  well  be  called  the  Iron  Age  here- 
about, with  so  much  of  exposure  and  hardship,  and 
so  little  with  which  to  do.  But  amid  all,  with  all 
the  changes  that  came  to  his  people,  moved  the  pastor 


OLD   YORK  193 

with  self-conscious  integrity,  and  benign  countenance, 
holding  to  the  tenure  of  his  service  for  a  hfetime  — 
which  is  so  uncommon  in  these  days  of  uneasy  and 
changing  pastoral  relations,  as  to  be  worth  the  re- 
cording. 

These  loosely-spun  yarns  of  the  days  of  pillion  and 
saddle-bag  would  not  be  complete  without  some  ref- 
erence to  the  preparations  for  the  Sabbath,  which 
was  not  only  a  day  of  worship  and  religious  reflec- 
tion, but  a  day  of  quiet,  seeml}^  rest  from  labor  of 
the  field.  This  was  an  interregnum  during  which 
no  "idle"  recreating,  walking  or  disporting  of  one's 
self  in  public  was  allowable  or  permitted.  "Thou 
shalt  keep  the  Sabbath  day  holy,"  included  the  ox 
as  well  as  his  master;  and  this  enforced  seclusion 
outside  of  attendance  upon  public  worship,  begot 
extra  toil  for  the  day  preceding.  It  is  within  the 
memory  of  the  writer,  that  in  the  old-fashioned  ortho- 
dox family,  all  food  for  Sabbath  consumption  was 
prepared  on  Saturday,  so  that  nothing  of  a  "  worldlie  " 
nature,  or  care,  or  annoyance,  should  interevene  to 
distract  the  mind  of  the  devoutly-inclined  household 
from  a  "profitable  meditation  of  the  Word;"  and 
all  secular  reading  was  tabooed  or  locked  up  in  the 
little  cupboard  in  its  "Sailor's  Snug  Corner"  of  the 
sitting-room.  Only  the  black  leather-covered  Bible, 
Baxter's  "Samt's  Rest,"  or  dear  old  Bunyan,  were 
available  for  mental  refreshment,  unless  Young's 
"Night  Thoughts"  was  permitted  to  share  with 
"Watts  and  Select"  the  scanning  of  the  poetically 
inclined. 


194 


OLD   YORK 


These  were  the  days  when  things  were  seen  dimly, 
as  through  the  perforated  square  tin  lanterns  of  the 
time,  whose  single  candle-flame,  and  limited  powers 
of  illumination,  barely  suggested  the  way  one's  feet 
should  keep;  and  whose  tiny  holes,  outlined  in  scrolls 
and  other  simple  devices,  let  out  slender  and  doubt- 
ful threads  or  rays  of  light,  that  were,  after  all,  but 
intimations;  and,  so  it  was  they  groped  their  way 
toward  the  larger  day  which  they  were  allowed  to 
see  afar  off,  as  Moses  viewed  the  milk  and  honey  land 
from  Pisgah's  top. 

As  if  one  were  astride  the  ass  of  Al  Borak,  these 
pictures  are  limned  with  every  raising  of  the  eye- 
lids; and  they  change,  and  come,  and  go,  as  the  shift- 
ing shadows  of  the  leaves  where  the  sunlight  filters 
brokenly  with  every  varying  breeze. 


TOBEY    HOUSE,   ELIOT 


OLD   KETTERIE 


OLD    KETTERIE 


NDOUBTEDLY  the   first 
Englishman  to  sail  up  the 
channel  of  the  Piscataqua 
River    was    Pring,    who 
sailed  over  here  in 
the  Speedwell   in 
1603.   The  Speed- 
well and  the  Dis- 
coverer made   up 
Pring's      fleet, 
whose  sails,  belly- 
"  ing  with  the  pine- 

flavored  winds  of  the  Maine  coast,  bore  southward 
until  the  wide  mouth  of  the  beautiful  river  opened 
up  before  the  prows  of  his  vessels,  where  he  willingly 
dropped  anchor,  and  like  many  others  who  have  been 
charmed  with  its  varied  and  romantic  scenery,  began 
to  write  of  what  he  saw.  He  was  evidently  much 
attracted  b}^  this  river,  for  he  not  only  followed  its 

197 


198  OLD   YORK 

course  inland  some  distance,  but  he  describes  its 
natural  disposition  of  land  and  water,  its  vegetation, 
and  its  four-footed  dwellers,  but  does  not  mention 
that  he  saw  any  of  the  aborigines.  He  was  looking 
for  sassafras,  but  it  was  not  indigenous  to  the  sur- 
rounding country.  Doubtless  it  was  his  search  for 
that  savory  root  that  led  him  up-stream;  and  it  is 
certain  that  he  found  the  land  pleasant  to  look  upon, 
as  did  many  others,  who  a  quarter  of  a  century  later 
began  to  follow  in  his  footsteps. 

The  first  comer  here  was  one  David  Thompson. 
He  did  not  settle  at  Kittery,  but  across  the  river  on 
the  New  Hampshire  side,  probably.  His  settlement 
has  been  located  at  Rye;  also  at  Thompson's  Point, 
which  latter  is  most  likely  to  be  the  place,  else  it 
would  not  have  taken  his  name.  Stackpole  locates 
him  at  Little  Harbor,  better  known  in  these  days  as 
Rye.  This  writer  says  his  house  site  has  been  "  lo- 
cated at  Odiorne's  Point."  It  matters  little  as  to  the 
exact  spot  that  marked  his  stay  of  hardly  three  years; 
but  that  he  was  here  in  this  neighborhood  makes 
a  human  landmark  from  which  one  may  begin  to  run 
his  l)Oundary  lines  as  he  makes  his  survey.  In  the 
Public  Record  Office  in  London  may  be  seen  a  patent 
to  Thompson  and  two  other  men  bearing  the  date 
of  October  16,  1622,  "for  a  pt  of  Pascataqua  river 
in  New  England;"  which  was  an  infringement  upon 
that  of  Gorges  and  Mason,  August  10  of  the  same 
year.  Upon  the  arrival  of  Neal  as  agent  for  Gorges 
and  Mason,  Thompson  departed  for  the  Boston 
colony.     It  seems  that  Christopher  Levett  was  his 


OLD   YORK  199 

guest,  in  1623;  and  his  place  may  have  come  into 
some  prominence  as  a  convenient  shelter  for  the 
fishermen  who  began  coming  to  these  waters  after 
cod.  Smith  was  here  at  the  neighboring  Isles  of 
Shoals  in  1614,  and,  after  his  coming  the  fishermen 
were  numerous.  Thompson's  "stone  house"  may 
have  been  hardly  more  than  the  rudest  shelter  of  the 
times;  but  it  was  undoubtedly  well  known,  because 
Thompson  was  not  here  alone,  but  had  employees 
or  servants.  These,  many  of  them,  naturally  re- 
mained, as  Neal  came  prepared  for  a  permanent  stay. 
He  pre-empted  Thompson's  house,  and  after  a  brief 
three  years  returned  to  England.  In  1631  a  ship 
came  over  with  a  relay  of  other  laborers.  It  is  prob- 
able that  Capt.  Thomas  Cammock,  Chadbourne,  the 
builder  of  "Great  House,"  at  Strawberry  Bank, 
Thomas  Withers,  Thomas  Spencer,  and  Thomas 
Crockett,  all  early  landmarks,  came  at  the  same  time. 
They  were  contemporaries  here  and  their  names 
appear  with  frequency.  Ambrose  Gibbons,  who 
came  with  Neal,  was  Mason's  manager,  and  a  house 
had  been  built  for  Mason  at  Newichawannock,  prob- 
ably in  1632,  as  Mason  writes  Gibbons  under  date  of 
December  5,  1632,  "We  praie  you  to  take  of  our 
house  at  Newichawannock,  and  to  look  well  to  our 
vines;  also,  you  may  take  some  of  our  swine  and 
goates,  which  we  praie  you  to  preserve." 

This  was  the  first  attempt,  doubtless,  at  systematic 
farming  in  the  province,  and  it  was  ultimately  suc- 
cessful; for  Francis  Norton,  a  later  agent  of  Mason's 
widow,  drove  one  hundred  beeves  to  Boston  after- 


200  OLD   YORK 

wards,  where  he  disposed  of  them  readily,  at  a  good 
price.  But  Mason's  interest  here  was  short,  and 
very  few  titles  of  to-day  can  be  traced  back  to  his 
grant.  Henry  Jocelyn  assumed  Neal's  functions  as 
]\Iason's  provincial  governor,  and  at  Mason's  death 
established  himself  at  Black  Point  to  the  eastward. 
The  Mason  property  at  Newichawannock  met  the 
fate  of  the  garments  of  the  Nazarene.  After  Nor- 
ton had  taken  what  he  desired,  the  servants  fell  to 
and  appropriated  the  residue,  —  the  neat  stock,  stores, 
and  provisions,  and,  as  well,  the  houses.  This  was  the 
end  of  the  seductive  dream  that  possessed  j\Iason's 
mind  of  an  English  manor  in  New  England.  Mason 
as  well  as  Gorges  was  bound  to  fail ;  but  both  builded 
better  than  they  knew.  Their  immediate  loss  was  the 
ultimate  gain  of  others  who  were  to  come  after  them. 
If  one  cares  to  examine  the  New  England  His- 
torical and  Genealogical  Register  for  184S,  a  list  of 
]\Iason's  stewards  and  servants  will  be  found,  and 
which  is  reputed  to  be  an  accurate  copy  of  an  ancient 
document  which  is  accepted  as  reliable.  The  names 
of  fifty  individuals  are  given,  and  it  concludes,  — 
"Eight  Danes,  Twenty-two  Women."  The  men 
were  expected  to  work;  and  the  women  to  marry. 
Wives  were  in  demand.  Gibbons  wrote  Mason 
August  6,  1634,  "a  good  husband  with  his  wife  to 
tend  the  cattle,  and  to  make  butter  and  cheese  will 
be  profitable;  for  maids  they  are  soon  gonne  in  this 
countrie."  A  comely  English  maid  once  off  ship 
found  it  a  short  road  to  the  Justice  of  the  Peace  and 
a   rude    but   comfortable   home.     Then   began   the 


OLD   YORK 


201 


202  OLD   YORK 

building  up  of  the  households;  and  how  they  grew! 
And  the  houses  kept  pace,  too;  and  a  lively  pace  it 
was  with  so  many  childish  feet  thronging  their  thres- 
holds, for  the  good  old  English  fashion  of  big  families 
was  brought  along  with  the  rest  of  the  good  old  things 
common  in  bonnie  England.  As  these  settlers  pros- 
pered, and  the  choice  fruits  of  their  adventurous 
courage,  their  energy,  and  their  indomitable  industry 
were  garnered,  their  intelligence  and  mental  training 
demanded  and  obtained  for  them,  the  position  and 
influence  that  the  New  England  character  has  always 
stood  for.  The  men  and  women  of  the  old  days  were 
heroes  and  heroines;  and  out  of  the  realities  of  their 
times  are  woven  the  finest  fabrics  of  to-day's  romance. 
Their  traits  were  all  of  the  hereditary  sort;  and  these 
people  of  Kittery  were  loyalists  as  well  as  liberalists. 
On  general  principles  they  were  as  God-fearing  antl 
as  jealous  of  the  rights  of  the  individual  as  the  Puri- 
tans of  Massachusetts  Bay.  They  differed,  it  is  true, 
in  their  motives  in  coming  to  this  new  country,  but 
it  was  a  creditable  difference.  Their  object  was  land, 
primarily,  and  lumber;  fishing  was  the  first  and  most 
important  factor;  but  that  industry  took  second 
place  as  the  settlements  grew  and  the  clearings 
widened.  The  foundation  of  all  this  perilous  and 
rugged  endeavor  was  the  acquisition  of  material 
wealth,  in  the  accumulation  of  which  they  were 
not  behind  the  Plymouth  colony.  With  wealth 
came  power  and  local  importance  and  a  generous 
outlook.  Go  into  the  old  houses  of  older  Kittery, 
and  you  have  the  proof  of  this  in  the  ample  halls,  the 


OLD   YORK  203 

low  broad  fireplaces,  the  carved  wainscotings  that 
reach  from  floor  to  ceiling;  the  wide  staircases  with 
their  carved  balustrades,  the  shuttered  windows,  and 
the  antique  furnishings  that  at  this  day  are  wonders 
of  art.  There  is  hardly  one  of  these  old  houses  that 
has  not  on  its  walls  a  Copley,  or  did  not  have  at  some 
time  in  its  history,  along  with  a  tall  clock  in  mahog- 
any, and  a  set  of  brasses  for  every  fireplace,  that 
would  put  a  connoisseur  on  pins  and  needles  imtil  he 
might  call  them  his  own,  or  gather  them  into  his 
already  fine  collection.  They  were  the  days  of  fine 
tapestries,  laces,  and  old  china,  and  of  like  fine  ways 
and  manners.  What  was  the  odds  if  the  founder  of 
this  family  made  his  mark  or  could  not  write  his 
name!  Those  who  came  after  him  could,  and  what 
was  more,  they  coukl  point  with  a  great  pride  to  the 
achievement  of  their  ancestor  who  lived  in  a  time 
when  brawn  of  muscle  and  native  wit  and  a  heroic 
cast  of  mind  were  the  hall-marks  of  manhood;  and 
when  reading,  writing,  and  spelling  would  hardly 
keep  one's  scalp  on  one's  head  in  an  Indian  raid;  or 
clear  the  lands,  turn  up  the  black  furrows  for  the  flax 
and  the  corn;  or  defend  the  sheep  that  afforded  them 
their  garb  of  homespun.  The  schoolmaster  came  as 
soon  as  room  could  be  made  for  him,  and  the  meet- 
ing-house as  well.  The  Rev.  Jeremiah  Hubbard 
was  here  as  early  as  1667,  and  in  the  Rev.  Mr.  New- 
march  was  happily  combined  both  preacher  and  school- 
master. At  this  time  Kittery  was  a  busy  place  with 
its  ship-building  and  its  increasing  commerce,  all  of 
which  stood  amply  for  the  quality  of  its  citizenship. 


204  OLD   YORK 

If  one  saunters  leisurely  along  the  shore  road  of  the 
Kittery  of  to-day  he  will  find  much  food  for  thought, 
for  he  would  find  the  actualities  of  the  Old 

"mingled 
With  the  marvels  of  the  New," 

and  as  well, 

"A  vast  and  ghostly  cavalcade," 

keeping  even  step  with  his  own,  over  these  old  bridle- 
paths that  have  widened  out  somewhat  with  the  usage 
of  centuries,  touching  elbows,  or  nudging  one  i'  the 
ribs,  as  one  comes  to  an  ancient  roof  or  a  hollow  in  the 
ground  once  dignified  by  an  old-time  mansion  and  a 
human  occupant.  If  one  stops  to  listen,  faint  foot- 
falls come  and  go,  or  beat  with  an  irregular  pulsing 
upon  the  sleepy  airs  that  hereabout  seem  always  to 
blow  from  Nowhere,  —  for  here  at  Kittery  Point  is  a 
veritable  patch  of  Poppj^-Land.  Whether  one  takes 
a  hammock  swing  when  the  heavy  dews  lie  along  the 
fragrant  grasses,  or  later  in  the  day  when  the  roads 
are  but  tremulous  threads  of  glimmering  heats,  or 
still  later,  when  the  lengthening  phantoms  of  the  Kit- 
tery elms  creep  noiselessly  athwart  the  sward,  and 
the  shadows  of  the  headlands  paint  the  sea  a  swarthy 
gray,  or  inlay  it  with  mosaics  of  mother  of  pearl, 
one  is  under  the  spell  of  the 

"legends  and  runes 
Of  credulous  days,  odd  fancies  that  have  lain 
Silent  from  boyhood  taking  voice  again, 
Warmed  into  life  once  more,  even  as  the  tunes 
That,  frozen  in  the  fabled  hunting-horn, 
Thawed  into  sound;" 


OLD    YORK  205 

as  if  one  had  paused  to 

"eat  the  lotus  of  the  Nile 
And  drink  the  poppies  of  Cathay." 

Old  Kittery,  like  poor  Rip,  went  to  sleep  long  years 
ago;  but  if  one  cares  to  hear  the  rime  of  the  inland 
Catskills,  one  needs  but  to  catch  the  sound  of  the  sea 
along  the  Kittery  shores,  with  the  dull  thunder  of  its 


/a.''  i^*Ai   */  '■   ^—  '^K  y^SL   w^       "*"  ^k*i  "lis  ^^   >«?^w&ar   ^^-^  at  V*" 


A   GLIMPSE    OF    KITTERY 


surf  breaking  over  Whale-back,  and  with  Irving's 
tale  in  mind,  the  vision  grows,  and  the  Kittery  sands 

"are  traversed  by  a  silent  throng 
Of  voyagers  from  that  vaster  mystery," 

whose  company  we  would  recall  for  a  little  span. 

If  one  would  see  old  "Ketterie"  as  it  came  to  me, 
I  should  say,  Here  are  the  glasses,  sir;  you  will 
have  to  use  them  as  they  are,  for  the  mechanism  of 
their  adjustment  to  the  promiscuous  vision  is  some- 
what out  of  repair,  —  "mebbe  they'll  do  you!"  as 


206 


OLD   YORK 


my  friend  Bellamy,  Avho  lives  in  the  Sir  William  Pep- 
perrell  house,  remarked  to  me  one  lazy  summer  after- 
noon of  not  long  ago.  While  I  scanned  the  sunlit 
waters  that  lay  over  and  beyond  Fort  Constitution, 
he  told  me  how  to  make  a  witch  bridle;  and  somehow 
it  seemed  that  the  days  of  old  Aunt  Polly  were  returned 
and  she  was  taking  me  up  and  dowTi  the  roads  of  here- 
about, croaking  her  stories  of  the  people  she  once 
knew  into  my  ears,  and  who  were  wont  to  climb  Brim- 


CHAUNCEY'S    CREEK 


stone  Hill  to  pay  to  her  their  tributes  of  fish,  tobacco, 
and  snuff,  and  one  knows  not  what  else,  —  good-will 
offerings,  the  purchase  money  for  the  devil's  forbear- 
ance. She  showed  me  the  furrow  in  the  mud  of 
Chauncey's  Creek  where  she  "  teched  "  the  Vesper ; 
and  told  me  how  she  rode  old  Captain  Perkins  to 
York  and  back  one  stormy  night.  She  said,  "  Mary 
Greenland  were  a  pore,  deluded  woman,  an'  no  witch  ; 
but  'n  them  days  folk  hed  t'  hev  witches,  an'  mebbe 
she'd  do  fer  Deb'rah  Lockwood  an'  Ann   Lin.     Fer 


OLD   YORK 


207 


sitch  nigh  folk  's  Cap'n  Mitch'll  an'  Cap'n  Perkins,  it 
needed  suthin'  made  i'  the  dark  o'  the  moon/'  — 

From  the  inner  shag  of  the  yellow-birch ; 
Hair  from  the  tail  of  a  piebald  horse; 
A  poop  of  tow,  from  a  swingle-staff 
Cut  from  the  limb  of  a  witch-burr  tree; 
Looped  through  a  yoke,  limber  and  slim 
As  ever  a  witch-bridle  yoke  could  be. 

It  was  on  a  July  afternoon  that  I  made  my  way  to 
Kittery.     I  left  the  train  at  Kittery  Junction,  from 


THE    REMICK    HOUSE 


whence  one  gets  a  first  look  at  this  country  of  By- 
gone, where  every  cove  and  outreacliing  slielf  of  rock 
owns  some  legend  or  tradition.  Across  the  river  —  for 
it  was  up  these  waters  that  Pring  turned  the  prows 
of  his  craft  toward  Quampegan  Falls  —  is  old  Straw- 
berry Bank,  and  midstream  is  old  Withers'  Island, 


208  OLD    YORK 

now  known  as  Badger's.     Both  these  are  landmarks 
as  ancient  as  any  hereabout ;  for  here  was  an  ancient 
ferry  kept  by  Woodman,  and  which  spanned  the  Pis- 
cataqua  from  Withers'  Point  to  Strawberry  Bank,  as 
travellers  to  east  or  west,  signified  their  desire.     I  can 
almost    see  the  cliimney  top  of  the  Remick   house, 
built  in  1777,  near  the  overhead  bridge  north  of  the 
railway  station,  and  which  is  an  interesting  example 
of  the  clwellmg  of  its  period.     Hardly  has  the  smoke 
of  the  tram  into  Portsmouth  cleared  away  up  river 
than  one's  dreaming  begins ;  for  turn  wliichever  way 
one  will,  the  spell  works,  and  one's  feet  are  following 
th?  same  trend  of  the  worthies  who  wrought  these 
ways  up  and  do\ATi  the  olden  town,  keeping  to  the 
water-side.     From  the  station  the  shore  runs  south- 
east, and  as  one  goes  one  finds  the  outward  aspect 
'  of  things  to  be  much  like  that  of  any  other  coast 
town,    except  that,  to    the   right,    below   Badger's 
Island,  are  those   of   Puddington  and    Fernald,  oc- 
cupied   by    the    present    Navy    Yard.    The    strip 
of   water    between,  is  Crooked  Lane,  at   the    head 
of  which  was  the   early  mansion  of   Robert   Cutt; 
and  as  one  keeps  on,  down  the  mainland,  it  ends  in 
old-time  Gunnison's  Neck,  where  Spruce  Creek  makes 
in  to  widen  out  northward.     Opposite,  and  exactly 
east,  is  Crockett's  Neck,  which  makes  the  north  land- 
wall  of  Crockett's  Cove  a  narrow  strip  of  flats  at  ebb 
tide,  but  a  charming  and  picturesque  bit  of  water  at 
flood.    Between   the  mainland  and  Iiittery  Point, 
Spruce  Creek  is  compressed  into  the  shape  of  a  bottle- 
neck, across  the  mouth  of  which  the  Piscataqua  cuts 


OLD   YORK 


209 


squarely,  to  sweep  grandly  down  to  the  sea  between 
Great  Island,  with  its  gray  roofs  antl  ancient  church 
towers  of  olden  New  Castle,  and  the  Kitteryof  Cham- 
pernowne  and  the  famous  Pepperrells.  Once  over 
Spruce  Creek  from  Gunnison's  Neck  one  is  in  an  en- 
chanted country.  All  the  way  from  the  railway 
station  hither,  one  has  been  walking  over  or  past  old 
cellars,  liut  unless  one  has  stopped  for  a  glanc3  at  the 


RICE'S    TAVERN 


old  Rice  Tavern,  nothing  of  a  material  character 
has  met  the  eye  other  than  what  one  sees  in  the  mod- 
ern village.  Nor  is  this  hostelry  very  ancient,  as  its 
building  was  somewhere  about  1806;  but  it  was  here 
before  the  days  of  bridges,  and  marks  the  landing- 
place  of  the  ferry  from  Portsmouth.  This,  and  the 
old  Remick  house  by  the  railroad,  are  the  two  surviv- 
ors of  the  early  settlement  days  on  the  hither  side  of 
Spruce  Creek,  unless  one  goes  up  Eliot  way  for  a 
glimpse  at  some  old  houses,  where  he  is  likely  to  begin 


210  OLD   YORK 

with  the  structurally  quaint  Tobey  roof-tree,  planted 
as  early  as  1727.  Eliot  has  some  very  old  houses. 
The  Shapleigh  house,  built  in  1730,  is  regarded  as  a 
fine  specimen  of  the  colonial  type.  The  huge  chim- 
ney of  this  old  mansion  was  shaken  down  by  the  earth- 
quake of  November  1,  1755,  — 

"That  was  the  year  when  Lisbon  town 
Felt  the  earth  shake,  and  tumbled  down;  " 

and  it  was  the  identical  day  on  \Aliich  Lisbon  was 
destroyed.  This  digression  to  Eliot  emphasizes  the 
rarity  of  the  house  of  the  ante-Revolutionary  period 
along  Kittery  Foreside;  but  Eliot  was  in  those  days 
kno^ii  as  Kittery  Middle  Parish.  Referring  to  its 
ancient  places,  one  should  not  miss  the  Frost  Garri- 
son house,  which  is  now  stored  with  the  family  fuel 
instead  of  powder  and  shot,  for  the  wily  savage. 

With  a  parting  glance  up  the  river  I  get  a  gUmpse 
of  the  green  uplands  of  Withers'  Island,  and  I  recall 
an  old  court  record  in  wliich  he  figures  somewhat. 
He  was  one  of  the  settlers  induced  by  Mason  to  go 
to  liis  province  of  New  HampsMre.  He  came  here 
in  1631,  and  was  a  councillor  imder  the  Godfrey 
government  in  1644.  After  the  submission  of  the 
Maine  province  to  the  Massachusetts  Bay  colony 
he  was  made  a  commissioner.  He  was  a  represen- 
tative to  the  General  Court  in  1656.  He  was  in 
high  favor  and  obtained  many  grants  of  land,  so 
that  his  acquisitions  were  considerable,  and  he  was 
regarded  as  a  landed  proprietor  of  quite  extensive 
hokUngs.     But  for  all  these  evidences  of  abmidance 


OLD   YORK 


211 


Baxter  says  he  fell  into  "disrepute."  According  to 
the  records  of  the  court  in  1671,  John  (undoubtedly 
this  was  a  mistake  in  the  Christian  name,  and  Thomas 
was  meant)  Withers  was  presented  "  for  an  irregular 
way  of  Contribution,  by  putting  in  money  to  leade 
on  others  to  do  y"*  hke,  &  takening  of  his  own  money, 
if  not  more,  out  againe,  w""  by  y""  lyes  some  suspi- 
cion of  fraud."     Mr.  Baxter  says,   "With    this  last 


^ 


'     1  irr      -J.  K**: 


4/^,_fik.ali'     ^  _-■ 


SHAPLEIGH    HOUSE 


curious  yet  sad  record  we  are  obliged  to  complete 
the  biography  of  the  man."  Stackpole  gives  quite 
an  extended  description  of  Withers'  possessions," 
ai:d  places  the  date  of  his  death  in  16.S5.  He  had 
no  sons,  and  was  the  only  man  of  his  name  among 
the  early  settlers.  Mr.  Baxter  assumes  "John"  to 
be  Thomas  Withers,  and  he  is  undoubtedly  correct. 
Of  his  three  daughters  one  married  John  Shapleigh, 
another  Thomas  Rice,   and    the  third  was  married 


212  OLD   YORK 

twice,  — first  to  Benjamin  Berry,  and  lastly  to  Doda- 
vah  Curtis.  Stackpole  says,  "  Thus  the  name  Withers 
perished  with  the  first  settler,  but  Ms  descendants 
are  many  in  the  Shapleigh,  Rice,  andalUed  famihes." 
The  island  granted  to  Withers  in  1643  has  followed 
the  name  of  its  subsequent  owners,  and  once  called 
Langdon,  is  now  Badger's. 

The  quotation  from  this  court  record  is  made 
simply  to  throw  a  sidelight  on  the  manners  of  the 
times.  Withers  was  undoubtedly  reacliing  the  child- 
ish period  of  his  life,  in  wliich  the  ruhng  passion  gets 
the  advantage  of  Ms  sense  of  the  proprieties,  a  not 
uncommon  happening  among  elderly  folk,  as  I  have 
had  occasion  to  make  note  of  at  one  time  and  another ; 

but 

"The  evil  that  men  do  lives  after  them; 
The  good  is  oft  interred  with  their  bones." 

However  tliis  may  be,  Thomas  Withers  played  well 
Ms  part,  and  was  an  important  factor  in  the  growth 
and  prosperity  of  Kittery's  earher  days.  That  the 
early  name  of  the  island  that  was  among  the  first 
of  his  possessions  was  not  retained  is  to  be  regarded  as 
unfortunate.  These  old  names  are  linked  closely  with 
the  years  that  gave  to  Ivittery  its  largest  importance, 
nor  should  they  become  obsolete  or  forgotten. 

Withers'  son-in-law,  John  Shapleigh,  was  the  grand- 
son of  Alexander,  who  came  from  Ivingsweare,  on 
the  Devon.  He  was  a  merchant  in  the  fisMng  trade. 
He  had  a  son  Nicholas,  who  is  to  be  remembered 
for  the  humanity  he  possessed  in  a  large  degree, 
and  wMch  he  exMbited  in  Ms  attitude  to  the  Quakers, 


OLD    YORK  213 

who  at  that  time  wore  under  a  ban,  and  which  caused 
his  expulsion  from  the  Kittery  board  of  selectmen 
in  1659.  Gorges  granted  him  five  hundred  acres 
at  Kittery  Point,  and  he  was  honored  with  the  invest- 
ment of  "  magistratical  powers  throughout  the  whole 
county  of  York."  He  was  a  member  of  the  God- 
frey Coimcil  in  1652,  and  was  one  of  the  signers  of 
the  submission  of  Maine  to  Massachusetts.  Baxter 
says,  "It  is  not  known  that  he  favored  their 
peculiar  tenets,"  referring  to  Shapleigh's  treatment 
of  Quakers,  but  it  is  indicative  of  liis  liberality  and 
forecast.  In  1658  he  was  one  of  the  commissioners 
to  "pitch  and  lay  out  the  cUviding  line  between 
York  and  Wells." 

Before  the  "submission"  Kittery  was  Episcopa- 
han  in  all  matters  rehgious;  afterward,  the  churches 
succumbed  to  Congregationalism.  There  was  natu- 
rally much  discontent,  much  discussion  among  folk 
as  they  came  together  in  one  place  and  another, 
and,  as  well,  much  opposition  to  the  domination  of 
Massachusetts.  About  1654  militia  companies  were 
organized  about  tliis  part  of  the  country  from  Kittery 
to  Wells,  and  Shapleigh  was  appointed  commander 
over  them.  Stackpole  describes  the  Shapleighs 
"  as  an  old  English  family.  Their  coat  of  arms  was, 
vert,  a  chevron  between  three  escallops  argent. 
Crest,  an  arm  vested  gules  turned  up  argent  hold- 
ing in  hand  proper  a  chaplet  vert,  garnished  with 
roses  of  the  first."  He  was  the  son  of  Alexander 
who  settled  here  with  the  earliest.  He  located  at 
Kittery  Point  in  1635. 


214  OLD   YORK 

In  this  enchanted  country  of  Ejttery  Point,  fol- 
lowing the  east  trend  of  its  shore  one  gets  a  fine  and 
ever-widening  'sdew  of  the  Piscataqua  and  its  detour 
seaward.  If  one  is  curious  as  to  the  derivation  of 
tills  name,  essentially  Indian,  he  may  find  himself 
in  doubt,  as  WilUamson  says  the  meaning  of  the 
word  is  right  angles;  and  to  be  sure,  as  the  stream 
makes  the  turn  to  the  southward  aroimd  Great 
Island,  the  angle  is  sharp;  but  I  prefer  the  dicta  of 
Potter  in  his  discussion  of  the  language  of  the  Abe- 
naquies.  He  says  it  is  derived  from  pos  (great),  at- 
iuck  (deer),  auke  (place);  or  in  other  words,  Grea 
Deer  Place.  Mr,  Baxter  coincides  with  Potter,  and 
ro  my  mind  it  is  the  preferable  derivation.  It  is 
certainly  delightfully  suggestive  of  hunting  exploits 
and  smoking  venison  steaks  and  all  the  out-door 
romance  of  primitive  life.  What  deep  and  vitaUzing 
breathings  of  ozone  these  early  settlers  must  have 
taken  in,  and  what  feastings  of  nature  must  have 
garnished  their  rude  boards,  with  such  an  abundance 
of  fish,  fowl,  and  game,  and  no  fish  and  game  warden 
to  bother,  with  a  surety  of  being  mulcted  by  the 
local  magistrate!  An  old  saying  that  has  come 
down  with  every  generation  is,  "Fishing  and  berry- 
ing are  free,"  and  one  thinks  of  it  as  a  pleasant  fiction 
in  these  days  of  "posted"  brooks  and  enclosed  blue- 
berry patches.  Only  the  plainslands  are  left  to  the 
impecunious  berry-pickers  of  to-day,  and  even  the 
private  trout-stocked  pond  comes  within  the  ban  of 
close-time.  But  these  curtailments  of  personal  Ub- 
erties  are  the  adjuncts  of  the  civiUzation  of  the  Now, 


OLD   YORK 


215 


and  are  to  be  regarded  complacently,  as  coming 
within  the  democratic  proposition  of  "the  greatest 
good  for  the  greatest  number." 

Here  on  Kittery  Point,  following  what  was  once 
the  bridle-path  thoroughfare  toward  York  Harbor, 
leaving  Brewhouse  Point  and  Spruce  Creek  to  the 
left,  one  cuts  across  lots,  as  it  were,  with  the  feel  of 
the  gravel  under  foot  that  once  cut  the  soles  of  old 


THE    PARSONAGE,    1629 


Hugh  Gunnison,  for  here  was  his  demesne  as  of  fee  in 
1650,  to  run  up  against  the  gable  of  a  sim-tanned, 
two-story  h^u-e  built  in  1629,  and  ever  since  known 
as  the  "Parsonage,"  and  close  by  is  its  Idndred  spirit, 
the  Kittery  Point  Church,  built  the  following  year. 
The  parsonage  is  a  good-sized,  apparently  roomy 
house,  against  whose  gray  gable,  when  the  sun  is 
right,  falls  the  shadow  of  a  goodly  tree,  once  a  riding- 
switch,  so  the  legend  runs,  of  good  old  Parson  Hub- 
bard, who  when  he  had  done  with  it  stuck  it  in  the 


216  OLD   YORK 

ground,  and  lo!  it  grew  and  waxed  great.  One  feels 
a  real  friendship  for  this  ancient  shade-maker,  and 
touches  its  rough  rind  as  one  would  shake  hands 
with  the  man  who  planted  it  so  carelessly,  as  if  it 
were  possessed  of  some  astral  quality.  One  puts  an 
ear  to  its  trunk,  and  some  would  say  it  was  but  the 
whispering  of  the  leaves,  no  doubt  curious  as  to  who 
this  may  be  at  its  root  who  is  so  familiar  on  short  ac- 
quaintance; but  to  me  comes  something  else.  There 
are  unfamihar  names  of  men  and  women,  mingled 
with  serious  admonition,  passages  of  Scripture,  and 
something  more  about  "man  and  wife,"  a  brief 
prayer,  some  goodly  advice,  a  low,  reverently  voiced 
benediction,  and  then  I  know,  —  for  two  people  a 
new  life  has  begun.  The  sash  of  the  windows  in  this 
westerly  gable  are  thrown  up  to  let  in  the  cool  wind 
that  blows  down  the  river,  and  one  can  even  hear  the 
squeak  of  the  goose-quill  pen  across  the  sermon  sheets, 
])ut  never  a  word  until  the  deacons  have  quieted  the 
congregation  of  a  Sabbath  morning,  when  the  sleepy 
airs  of  the  Point  fly  wide-awake  with  the  High  Church 
service  that  at  that  time  prevailed  here,  its  chants, 
and  intonings  of  litany  and  hymn,  and  the  trench- 
ant exposition  of  the  Word.  It  is  not  at  all  hard  to 
get  into  the  atmosphere  of  these  old  things,  with  such 
ancient  environment,  for  Kittery  Point,  externally, 
does  not  show  the  iconoclastic  tendency  so  apparent, 
once  one  gets  across  to  Crooked  Lane. 

Unless  it  be  the  modern  hotel  on  Warehouse  Point, 
one  may  look  for  a  suggestion  of  modernness,  to  find 
it  in  the  up-to-date  monolith  of  polished  granite  that 


OLD    YORK 


217 


marks  the  resting-place  of  Christian  Remick,  and 
that  shows  its  ghstening  apex  over  the  top  of  the 
broken  stile  that  gives  entrance  to  the  ancient  ceme- 
tery, where  sleep  in  unmarked  graves  the  great  and 
the  obscure  of  this  old  parish.  Vandal  hands  have 
been  at  work  on  this  old  church.  It  has  been  "im- 
proved," and  I  trow  there  is  not  a  man  or  woman  in 
all  Kittery  but  feels  as  they  pass  it  by  that  a  virtue 


THE    OLD    KITTERY    CHURCH,    1630 


has  gone  from  it  that  can  never  be  replaced.  Van- 
dalism is  a  good  name  for  it ;  and  vandalism  it  was  in 
its  quintessence.  These  old  relics  are  in  a  sense,  pub- 
lic property.  They  are  silent  pages  to  be  read  rev- 
erently; and  they  are  rich  in  lessons  of  sturdy  living, 
self-denial,  heroic  persistence,  a  high,  inflexible  cour- 
age, and  a  patriotic  purpose.  They  are  the  landmarks 
by  which  the  epochs  of  New  England's  high  civiliza- 
tion are  to  be  counted;  the  silent  memorials  of  your 
fathers,  and  mine,  alike,  —  silent,  yet  their  windows 


218  OLD   YORK 

glow  with  the  soul-lights  of  those  who  first  used  them; 
and  their  thresholds  are  still  tremulous  with  the  tread 
of  the  feet  that  first  tried  their  mysteries.  All  over 
them  are  the  prints  of  hands  long  stilled,  but  the. 
magic  of  their  touch,  here  and  there,  remains  to  bind 
one  under  the  spell  of  their  golden  speech.  Not  one, 
but  has  been  hallowed  by  birth  and  reconsecrated 
by  death.  One  goes  to  Egypt  for  obehsks,  but  here 
are  sometliing  other  than  pagan  memorials,  and 
richer  and  worthier.  When  the  last  one  has  mould- 
ered or  burned  away,  one  will  have  but  the  memory 
of  their  rugged  lines;  and  the  iconoclast  will  have 
had  his  way.  Money  is  well  enough;  but  money 
without  the  finer  strains  of  patriotism,  without  the 
impetus  of  public  spirit,  without  hereditary  tradi- 
tions, or  a  love  and  reverence  for  such,  Avill  set  the 
hands  on  the  clock  of  to-day,  back  even  beyond  the 
hour  when  these  old  garrison-houses  of  Ivittery  and 
York  were  born. 

Keep  the  hand  of  the  man  with  money  and  less 
wit,  who  has  an  itch  to  "do  sometliing,"  off  these  old 
landmarks.  Send  Mm  to  the  country  of  the  Goths 
and  Vandals,  whence  he  came,  and  tell  your  geese  to 
set  up  their  mightiest  outcry  if  by  a  happen  he  come 
upon  you  miaware.  Could  one  spare  a  bullet-mark 
off  the  stones  in  the  old  Copp's  Hill  burying-ground, 
or  a  splinter  from  the  old  North  Church  tower,  or  a 
fine  from  the  traditions  of  Concord  and  Lexington? 
These  are  the  memories  that  make  the  blood  leap 
and  one's  muscles  rigid.  Not  one  of  these  old  hiber- 
nacles  of  wood  scattered  about  old  Ivittery  but  thrill 


OLD   YORK 


219 


the  heart  and  bring  a  fresh  glow  to  the  eye,  and  may- 
hap a  quivering  of  the  Hp  or  a  choke  in  the  throat. 
It  is  hke  going  back  to  the  home  hearth  to  look  into 
these  old  Uving-rooms;  and  yet  how  unhke  they  are 
to  those  we  know  best  to-day! 
Across  from  the  old  church  is  the  cemetery.     Go 


THE    KITTERY    CEMETERY 


through  the  stile.  No  need  to  wait  for  its  turning, 
for  it  is  broken  and  one  easily  goes  through;  and 
witliin  this  enclosure,  for  it  is  surrounded  by  a  low 
wall  of  flat  stones  evidently  gathered  along  the  shore 
of  Lawrence's  Cove,  one  is  surprised  at  the  poverty 
which  prevails  in  headstones.     Here  is  a  populous 


220  OLD    YORK 

community,  but  door  plates  seem  to  be  wofully  lack- 
ing. Those  who  have  come  after  the  dwellers  in 
these  grassy  hillocks,  some  of  wliich  are  but  faintly 
discernible,  are  as  well  forgotten  with  those  who  have 
gone  before.  There  are  but  few  stones  with  names 
and  dates  on  them,  speaking  comparatively,  and 
these,  with  the  exception  of  a  half  dozen,  perhaps, 
are  mostly  of  the  nineteenth  century.  Here  is  a 
massive  memorial  of  the  Remick  family.  Here  are 
the  slabs  of  Mr.  Robert  Cutt  antl  his  wife  Dorcas,  but 
the  stone  is  so  soft  and  the  teeth  of  Time  have  been  so 
sharp  that  the  date  is  obliterated.  The  Rev.  Benja- 
min Stevens  and  Mr.  Robert  Cutt  Whipple,  1761, 
are  easily  distinguished. 

On  a  stone  upon  which  is  etched  the  name  of 
Elizabeth  Fernald,  bearing  the  date  of  1816,  one 
may  read  the  following  simple  epitaph: 

"By    my    request, 
Let  this  dust  rest." 

Here  is  the  stone  of  John  Morse.  It  bears  the 
date  of  1741,  one  of  the  most  ancient  stones  in 
the  enclosure  to  give  any  information,  outside  that 
of  Mr.  Robert  Cutt. 

The  stone  of  Dorcas  Cutt  bears  date  1757.  An- 
other, that  of  Thomas  Jenkins,  bears  date,  Sep' em!  er 
19, 1740.  The  oldest  stone,  a  slab  of  flat  slate  evi- 
dently picked  up  alongshore,  is  that  of  Nicholas  Sever, 
which  bears  the  date  of  October  27,  1729.  There 
is  a  quaintly  pathetic  line  untlerneath  all,  and  the 
letters    are   most   rudely    and   irregularly   cut,    and 


OLD    YORK 


221 


altogether,  to  me,  it  was  the  most  fascinating  spot 
in  the  yard.  It  is  close  to  the  westerly  wall,  just 
where  the  crest  of  sward  breaks  down  abruptly  to 
the  shore.     One  can  sit  on  the  rough  edge  of  the 


SOME    OLD    STONES    IN     KITTERY    GRAVEYARD 


wall  and  scan  tliis  memorial  at  leisure.      The  line 
referred  to  is, 

"old    &    STILL." 

What  infinite  rest  and  quietude  in  that  last  word  ! 
I  must  confess  that  I  find  in  them  a  strange  insistence, 
for  they  follow  me  wherever  I  go.     I  seem  to  see 
them,  as  I  saw  them  on  that  old  lichen-stained  rock, ' 
and  there  is  a  peaceful,  thin  old  face,  out  of  which 


222  OLD   YORK 

the  glow  has  faded,  turned  toward  me.  It  is  "old 
and  still,"  yet  it  is  singularly  beautiful,  more  beau- 
tiful than  ever  before  with  the  hght  which  was  never 
upon  sea  or  land  illumining  it. 

John  Morse  was  buried  here  in  1741;  and  down 
on  the  extreme  edge  almost  by  the  sea  is  the  stone 
of  Moses  McClintock,  1814.  You  will  find  these 
lines  upon  it:  — 

"Behold  all  men  as  you  pass  by, 
As  you  are  now,  so  once  was  I ; 
As  I  am  now,  so  must  you  be, 
Prei^are  foi"  death  and  follow  me." 

Rather  an  ingenious  epitaph  and  hterally  true. 

Here  is  something  which  falls  within  the  line  of 
obituary  poetry: 

"Margaret   Hills 
Consort  of  Oliver  Hills. 
1803. 
I  lost  my  hfe  in  the  raging  seas; 
A  governing  God  does  as  he  please; 
The  Kittery  friends,  they  did  appear, 
And  my  remains  they  buried  here." 

I  beheve  tliis  covers  all  the  epitaphs  in  tliis  old 
cemetery.  I  made  a  very  dihgent  search,  but  most 
of  the  graves  have  but  a  rude  stone  such  as  might 
be  picked  up  along  any  pasture  side;  but  I  should 
judge  the  greater  part  possessed  not  even  that.  The 
old  cemetery  is  embowered  in  a  mass  of  foliage  from 
the  many  deciduous  trees  growing  within  its  boun- 
dary hne,  as  well  as  those  which  hedge  it  about.  It 
is  a  quiet,  secluded  place,   and  has  in  very  shght 


OLD   YORK 


223 


degree  the  garish  suggestion   of    the  modern    city 
of  the  dead. 

If  one  should  turn  cne's  back  to  the  broken  stile 
that  gives  entrance  to  the  cemetery,  with  one's  face 
to  the  old   church,  at  the  left,  witliin  a  stone-throw 


PART    OF    LADY    PEPPERRELL    HOUSE 


is  the  Lady  Pepperrell  House.  According  to  Drake, 
wlien  he  saw  it,  it  was  in  an  exceeding  dilapidated 
condition,  with  its  great  door  hanging  by  a  single 
liinge,  its  window  panes  broken,  and  its  chimney 
tops  sadly  awry.  I  anticipated  finding  it  in  a  still 
more  advanced  stage  of  ruin;  but  what  was  my  sur- 


224 


OLD    YORK 


prise  to  find  it  aglow  in  the  light  of  the  morning 
sun,  and  outwardly  suggestive  of  all  its  pristine 
glory  and  importance.  What  wand  of  magic  had 
been  laid  upon  it  I  did  not  inquire,  but  there  were 
no  signs  of  decay,  from  either  a  physical  or  moral 


THE    MASSIVE    DOOR' 


point  of  view.  As  I  looked  at  its  massive  door  I 
would  not  have  been  surprised  had  it  been  thrown 
wide  open  for  Lady  Peppenell,  or  to  have  seen  that 
proud  dame  step  out  upon  its  single  wide  flag  that 
hugged  its  threshold,  for  a  stroll  about  the  lawn 
that  spread  away  on  either  side  of  the  walk  that 


OLD   YORK  225 

led  to  the  street.  But  there  was  no  grande  dame, 
nor  even  poor,  harmless  Sally  Cutts,  of  whom  Drake 
writes  so  eerily;  only  three  girls  in  very  short  dresses 
played  at  "liide  and  go  seek,"  among  the  syringas 
and  flowerless  Ulacs,  to  lend  a  beautiful  color  to 
my  imaginings.  The  robins  were  singing  in  the 
trees  over  by  the  parsonage,  which  made  a  pleasant 
treble  to  the  alto  voice  almost  at  my  elbow,  chanting, 
slowly, 

"Hinty,  minty,  cuti-corn, 
Apple-seed  and  briar  thorn; 
Ten  mice  in  a  clock; 
Sit  and  sing,  by  the  spring 
Where  my  father  used  to  dwell; 
There  are  diamonds;  there  are  rings; 
There  are   many  pretty  things,  — 
0-U-T,  out  goes  he." 

And  then  there  was  a  scurrying  of  httle  feet,  and 
the  sharp  cry  of,  "Goal ! " 

That  was  the  way  I  myself  felt  as  I  asked  the 
eldest  of  the  trio,  "Do  you  think  I  can  have  a 
look  at  the  hall  and  the  fore-room,  httle  woman?" 

"Do  you  draw  pictures?"  was  the  Yankee-like 
reply. 

"  Sometimes." 

"May  I  see  how  you  do  it?"  with  a  wistful  glance 
at  the  sketch  block  under  my  arm. 

"Certainly,"  extenchng  my  hand  to  the  quaint- 
est specimen  of  a  door-knocker  I  had  ever  seen. 

"Oh,  you  needn't  wake  the  neighborhood  with 
that  thing,"  she  exclaimed  with  a  silvery  laugh,  "I'll 


226 


OLD   YORK 


let  you  in!"  Off  she  scampered,  with  the  others 
at  her  heels,  and  a  moment  later  the  great  door 
opened  from  the  inside,  and  I  had  stepped  within 
the  gracious  portals  of  this  famous  house. 

In  a  way  I  was  preparetl  for  the  quaint  beauty 
of  the  interior.  Drake's  reproduction  is  very  like, 
yet  I  sketched  it  for  myself,  with  my  young  friend 

peeping  over  my  shoulder, 
wliich  instead  of  being  an 
annoyance  was  in  a  way  an 
inspiration. 

After  the  wide  hall,  with 
its  grand  staircase,  its 
carved  balustrade,  and 
curiously  wrought  balus- 
ters, its  liigh  wainscoting 
and  square-panelled  doors, 
and  the  huge  parallelogram 
of  original  wall-paper,  that 
had  been  preserved  and 
framed  within  a  band  of 
warm  color  when  the  paper-hanger  came  to  renew  the 
wall  decorations,  the  fore-room  with  its  small  fire- 
place seemed  a  dainty  affair.  Its  lurni.-^hings  were 
unique  and  ancient.  The  effect  was  singularly  light 
and  airy.  The  gairish  light  of  the  mid-summer  sim 
was  tempered  by  a  northern  exposure,  and  the  wain- 
scoting was  immaculate  in  its  whiteness.  If  the  fire- 
place was  small,  its  antique  brasses  shone  with  a 
mild  glory  adequately  suggestive.  Except  for  its 
antique  mantel,  and  the  panel  work  which  extended 


THE    KNOCKER 


OLD   YORK 


227 


from  floor  to  ceiling,  it  did  not  differ  from  others 
of  its  kind  of  a  much  later  date.  I  returned  to 
the  hall.  I  was  interested  in  that  patch  of  old 
paper  brought  originally  from  England.     The  figure 


THE  HALL  OF  THE  LADY  PEPPERRELL  HOUSE 


was  large,  and  set  in  broken  panels,  and  of   a  gray 
effect,  an  old  castle  in  each  panel. 

I  went  at  my  sketch  again,  and  the  girl  was  at 
my  elbow;  meanwhile, 

"The  wonder  grew," 

and  when  I  had  finished  it,  woman-hke,  she  criticised 
it :  "That's  real  nice.    Looks  just  hke  it.     I'll  draw 


228  OLD   YORK 

it  myself,  some  clay!"  and  I  doubt  not   a   bit  but 
she  will  try  it. 

With  an  expression  of  the  pleasure  I  had  received 
from  my  little  hostess,  I  was  out  in  the  simshine 
again,  studying  the  dolphins  over  the  front  door. 
I  missed  the  anchor,  otherwise  I  should  have  taken 
the  house  to  be  an  ecUtion  de  luxe  with  the  Picker- 
ing imprint.  It  is  one  of  the  flowers  of  old  Ivittery, 
and  has  the  lavender  odor,  suggestive  of  high  coif- 
fures, brocades,  Watteaus,  quilted  skirts,  and  high- 
heeled  shppers;  and  I  doubt  not  but  there  was  an 
antique  chest  of  drawers  in  some  one  of  the  upper 
rooms,  wliich,  with  a  bit  of  rummaging,  would  have 
revealed  just  such  a  host  of  treasures,  with  a  wedcUng 
dress  of  grandma's  throwTi  in. 

It  was  once  said,  "All  roads  lead  to  Rome." 
The  same  would  have  been  true  of  old  Kittery,  and 
York  might  well  be  included.  In  the  early  days 
there  was  but  one  road  to  the  eastward,  and  that 
was  along  the  marge  of  the  Hampton  meadows, 
across  Great  Boar's  Head,  and  over  the  sands 
of  Rye  to  Strawberry  bank.  Once  across  the 
Piscataqua,  the  trail  was  down  Kittery  Point 
ten  miles  to  York  Harbor,  by  the  way  of  Champer- 
nowne's  Island;  while  beyond  the  sands  and  flats, 
was  the  road  to  Ogunquit,  the  Saco  of  Bonython, 
the  Black  Point  of  Cammock  and  Vines,  and  the 
lands  of  Trelawney,  into  the  country  of  Cleeve  and 
Tucker,  by  the  way  of  the  Cape  EHzabeth  shore. 
Tliis  was  the  way  of  the  saddle-bags,  and  the  foot 
traveller,  as  well.     It  is  upon  tliis  thoroughfare  that 


OLD   YORK  229 

the  Lady  Pepperrell  house  faces ;  and  doubtless,  when 
this  mansion  was  finished,  and  its  first  notable  occu- 
pant had  moved  in,  what  is  now  a  statute  carriage 
road,  an  average  country  liighway,  was  then  a 
bridle  path.  There  was  need  for  notliing  better. 
A  stout  horse  and  a  saddle,  or  a  pair  of  good  sturdy 
legs,  were  the  only  means  of  locomotion  common 
to  the  time.  The  sea  sands  were  the  great  highway. 
They  were  ironed  smooth  with  every  tide;  when  the 
tide  was  out  only  the  headlands  offered  obstruction 
to  the  traveller's  progress.  They  were  safer.  The 
outlook  was  wider,  and  there  was  less  chance  for 
ambush.  Tliis  old  trail  was  Uke  a  slender  thread, 
along  wliich  were  strung  the  sparse  clearings  and 
the  little  hamlets,  hke  Ivittery  and  York,  hke  isolated 
beads.  But  the  people  of  those  days  were  grega- 
rious; they  were  inter-dependent;  and  a  common 
interest  of  life  and  property  hmited  their  activities 
to  a  narrow  field.  To  get  beyond  the  sound  of  the 
long  tin  horn  of  the  settlement,  or  of  the  block-house, 
was  to  court  the  isolation  of  the  hermit,  and  possible 
annihilation. 

Tliis  liighway  that  runs  the  length  of  Kittery 
Point,  and  thence  to  York  Harbor,  is  a  magnificent 
picture  gallery,  and  for  those  who  delight  in  scenic 
beauties  here  is  a  charm  and  fascination  miequalled 
in  its  variety  or  its  swift  unfolcUng  of  panoramic 
effects.  It  is  the  land  of  the  dreamer  and  the  poet, 
the  home  of  romance,  and  the  ideal  camping-ground 
for  the  nature  lover.  The  painter  here  needs  to 
daub  liis  palette  with  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow 


230  OLD   YORK 

would  he  accomplish  even  a  faint  approximation  to 
the  dyes  that  drip  from  the  slant  rays  of  the  sun 
over  the  wide  reach  of  sea  and  shore  that  is  lost 
finally  in  a  Umitless  perspective. 

Here  is  sometliing  better  than  the  Uffizi  or  the 
Palazzo  Pitti  of  the  Ponte  Vecliio.  These  are  the 
works  of  the  Master  of  all  masters,  works  that  are  re- 
touched every  day  by  the  hand  of  the  Infinite, 
the  pigments  of  wliich  were  wrought  and  blended  in 
the  crucible  of  the  creation.  Everytliing  in  tliis 
royal  exliibition  is  lumg  "on  the  hne,"  and  the  sign 
manual  is  the  same  that  Belshazzar  saw  on  the  walls 
of  liis  banquet  hall.  There  is  no  functionary  here 
in  gilt  braid  to  exact  a  tariff  before  one  can  pass  the 
portal,  or  to  relieve  one  of  one's  umbrella.  These 
pictures  are  for  the  poor  as  for  the  rich,  and  every 
day  in  the  week  is  a  "free  day."  Whatever  of  rule 
or  regulation  there  may  be,  is  that  of  the  "law  and 
the  prophets,"  that  having  eyes,  you  see;  that 
having  ears,  you  hear;  and  that  running,  you  read 
as  you  run.  Then  you  will  realize  that  you  are  in 
the  presence  of  the  Author  of  these  marvels,  for  each 
is  an  apparition  of  the  Deity.  Nor  does  one  need 
to  carry  the  Rosetta  Stone  in  one's  pocket  to  find 
the  key  to  the  translation  of  these  mysteries  of 
sound  and  substance  and  color;  but  one  must  have 
drunk  of  the  sherbet  of  Pahlul  to  have  the  Khalsa 
of  Nature  opened  to  liim. 

Tills  locahty  in  the  immediate  vicinage  of  the  Lady 
Pepperrell  house,  the  burial  ground,  the  meeting- 
house, and    the  parsonage,  is  notable  as  being  the 


OLD   YORK 


231 


first  settled  portion  of  Kittery.  It  is  Warehouse 
Point,  and  as  the  name  indicates,  it  was  from  the 
first,  the  business  end  of  the  town  or  settlement.  The 
old  wharves  here  are  eloquent,  with  their  cobbled  logs 
and  rock  ballast.  The  antiquary  should  begin  right 
here,  for  chronologically  ffittery  was  founded  with 
the  cellar  of  the  father  of  Nicholas  Shapleigh,  and 
that  cellar  is  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the  lower  edge 
of  the  graveyard.      On  the  west  side  of  tliis  enclos- 


LAWRENCE'S    COVE,   WAREHOUSE    POINT  — THE    SPARHAWK    WHARVES 


ure  is  a  lane,  which  is  quite  English  in  its  kirk- 
yard  wall  and  embowered  coolness;  this  lane  runs 
past  the  Lady  Pepperrell  house,  straight  to  the  edge 
of  the  bluff  that  overhangs  the  west  curve  of  Law- 
rence's Cove. 

Here  is  the  Gerrish  house  that  stands  on  the  upper 
side  of  the  lane  and  faces  the  sea,  as  do  most  of  these 
old  Kittery  houses.  This  was  known  as  the  "  Piggin" 
house  in  the  ancient  days.    The  style  of  its  arclii- 


232 


OLD   YORK 


lecture  was  peculiar  and  won  it  that  appellation.  It 
has  suffered  the  usual  ills  common  to  tilings  that  get 
out  of  style,  or  rather  it  has  suffered  in  the  acquaint- 
ance that  has  been  forced  upon  it;  and  yet  the  anti- 
quated stoop^  the  little  peaked  porch  gable,  and  a 
long,  low  sloping  roof  betray  its  hneage,  and  assert  its 


THE    GERRISH    HOUSE 


claim  to  notabiUty.  Under  its  roof-tree  are  to  be 
found  treasures.  There  are  some  bits  of  old  times 
worth  seeing,  that  is,  allowing  that  you  are  granted 
the  opportunity. 

Kittery,  after  a  fashion,  is  a  Mecca  for  the  lover  of 
old  and  quaintly  interesting  tilings.  They  abound 
here,  and  these  old  houses  are  their  places  of  usual 
containment,  — houses  famous  for  the  people  who  built 


OLD   YORK  233 

them,  lived,  prospered,  and  died  in  them;  and  it  was 
all  so  long  ago,  and  the  tilings  they  did  were  so  un- 
usual, and  the  ways  of  their  doing  as  well.      They 
are  still  occupied,  and  in  some  instances  by  the  de- 
scendants of  their  builders.     The  dwellers  in  these 
old  relics  have  been  much  annoyed  by  strangers,  and 
the  mistress  of  the  house  opens  her  door  nowadays  but 
slowly,  if  the  face  be  a  strange  one.     You  would  Uke 
to  just  see  the  inside  of  the  house.     From  a  few  of 
these  your  refusal  will  be  abrupt  and  final.    The  dis- 
position is  Idndly,  but  you  fail  to  realize  that  many 
others  may  have  taxed  your  hostess'  energy  in  ad- 
vance of  your  coming;    that  if  you  have  an  abim- 
dance  of  time,  she  has  not;  and  more  than  that  she  is 
hkely  to  class  you  with  that  half-dozen  who  called  the 
other  day,  and  who  hacked  her  carved  mouldings  for 
souvenirs,  tore  the  paper  that  came  from  London  off 
the  walls  of  the  great  hall,  kicked  a  baluster  off  the 
grand  staircase,  and  smuggled  that  off  the  premises. 
Honest  folk,  once  in  the  atmosphere  of  these  old 
things,  seem  to  lose  their  tempering,  and  they  be- 
come vandals,  despoilers,  thieves.     No  wonder  the 
face  of  a  stranger  is  not  welcome. 

For  myself  I  have  no  complaint  to  make.  I  found 
the  people  just  what  they  should  be  to  hve  in  the  at- 
mosphere that  seems  continually  to  enfold  the  place. 
I  did  not  see  but  one  incUvidual  in  a  hurry  in  my  whole 
sojourn.  He  was  a  hotel  proprietor,  and  had  just 
come  in  from  Boston.  He  was  awake,  to  be  sure, 
but  how  long  he  would  stay  so,  once  home  in  tliis  som- 
nolent environment,  would  simply  depend  upon  how 


234  OLD   YORK 

frequently  he  jumped  the  Kittery  fences.  But  this 
Gerrish  house  is  as  quaint  interiorly  as  it  is  quaintly 
suggestive  from  the  outside.  Its  windows  command 
a  charming  outlook  upon  the  harbor  waters  of  the 
Piscataqua,  and  when  the  twihght  comes  the  myriad 
hghts  of  New  Castle  are  doubled,  for  the  sea  mirrors 
them  in  lance-like  points  of  fire  that  are  never  still, 
but  always  dropping  from  some  invisible  sieve  of 
flame.  It  is  so  cosily  ensconced  witliin  a  snuggery 
or  cowl  of  fohage  as  to  be  almost  wholly  secluded  on 
three  sides.  There  is  some  suggestion  of  Mother 
Goose   poetry  here,  — 

"There  was  an  old  woman 
Lived  under  the  hill; 
If  she  is  not  gone, 
She  lives  there  still." 

And  in  fact,  these  lines  occurred  to  me  as  I  looked  at 
the  porch  gable,  wliich  smacks  of  senility.  Were  it 
a  nose  on  a  face,  I  should  say  some  one  had  thrown  a 
brick. 

Tills  old  relic  has  a  neighbor  just  across  the  way. 
It  hangs  by  its  teeth,  as  one  might  say,  to  the  edge  of 
the  bluff  inland ;  it  presents  a  one-story  gable,  wliich 
still  bears  the  paint-denuded  Gerrish  signboard  above 
the  plain  double  doors.  I  pushed  the  door  ajar  and 
entered.  The  interior  was  plain,  but  suggested  great 
sohcUty.  I  picked  my  way  down  a  pair  of  steep,  nar- 
row stairs  to  the  floor  below.  The  worn  floor  was 
deeply  stained  as  with  oil,  and  it  opened  cUrectly 
upon  the  best  preserved  of  the  four  wharves  that 
once  made  Lawrence's  Cove  a  considerable  place  for 


OLD    YORK  235 

shipping.  A  look  at  this  seaward  gable  shows  two 
stories.     On  tliis  gable  is  the  mystery,  — 

"ship   stores   &   MEDICINES," 

a  curious  juxtaposition  of  tarred  rope  and  physic, 
which  arouses  something  of  humorous  conjecture; 
but  that  was  before  the  days  of  "  Maine  law,"  when 
rum  was  an  aristocratic  adjimct  of  every  social  func- 
tion from  the  christening  to  the  grave,  and  not  a 
"medicine."  I  wish  it  could  be  called  sometliing  be- 
sides "Maine"  law.  It  would  be  better  to  call  it 
Maine  "politics." 

The  color  of  the  sign  is  a  dim  gray,  the  soft  silvery 
color  of  the  gable,  a  color  wliich  the  stain  makers 
have  succeeded  quite  well  in  imitating.  There  is 
notliing  hke  a  sea  fog  and  a  salty  drizzle  to  temper 
the  colors  that  men  grind  and  mix.  But  this  old 
warehouse  of  the  Cutts  will  stand  two  hundred 
years  longer,  and  more,  for  its  timbers  are  huge  and 
sound  as  the  day  they  were  cut  and  squared  with 
broadaxe  up  in  the  Dover  woods.  It  sits  level 
and  stands  plumb;  but  levels  were  not  used  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  years  ago.  These  timbers  were  laid 
and  levelled  with  a  tub  of  water  and  a  floating  chip, 
a  clumsy  device,  yet  simple  in  the  extreme.  If  you 
should  cut  a  lemon  crosswise,  in  either  half  you 
would  have  the  contour  of  Lawrence's  Cove.  On 
the  westerly  point  were  the  Cutts  and  Cove  wharves ; 
and  on  the  easterly  point  were  the  Sparhawk  wharf 
and  its  old  red  warehouse.  Between,  were  the  ways 
where  sliips  were  built,  the  foundations  of  wliich  are 


236  OLD   YORK 

even  now  discernible.  Ships  were  built  here  at  a 
very  early  clay,  and  here  was  a  large  West  India 
carrying  trade  for  the  times.  The  out-going  cargoes 
were  of  dried  fish  and  lumber  rafted  dowTi  river 
from  up  Dover  way,  and  the  return  cargoes  were 
rum  and  molasses.  The  Cutt  wharf  is  in  fair  con- 
dition, but  the  Cove  and  Sparhawk  wharves  are  in 
the  last  stages  of  dilapidation.  The  latter  is  a  mere 
buttress  of  loose  stone,  and  no  vestige  of  the  old  red 
warehouse  remains  to  tell  of  the  fortune  that  its 
proprietor  accumulated  here. 

And  here  on  tliis  point  is  the  old  Shapleigh  cellar, 
a  faint  undulation  in  the  sward  that  grows  more 
shallow  with  every  year.  Here  is  a  court  record,  — 
"1650,  Oct.  15;  Forasmuch  as  the  house  at  the 
river's  mouth  where  Mr.  Shapleigh's  father  first 
built,  and  Mr.  Wilham  Hilton  now  dwelleth,  in  re- 
gard it  was  the  first  house  there  built  and  Mr.  Shap- 
leigh intendeth  to  build  and  enlarge  it,  and  for 
further  considerations  it  is  thought  fit  it  should  from 
time  to  time  be  for  a  house  of  entertainment  or 
ordinary,  with  this  proviso,  that  the  tenant  shall  be 
such  an  one  as  the  inhabitants  shall  approve  of," 
is  conclusive  as  to  the  fact  stated.  Wilham  Hilton 
had  a  tavern  here  in  1648.  He  had  probably  been 
here  some  considerable  time,  as  is  evidenced  by  the 
deposition  of  Frances  White,  who  was  an  old  woman 
at  the  time  the  deposition  was  taken,  wliich  was 
in  1687  or  1688.  She  was  the  wife  of  Richard  White. 
She  says  "  that  about  forty-sixe  years  past  (1642) 
shee  Uved  in  a  house  at  lottery  poynt  that  stood 


OLD   YORK  237 

then  between  the  house  that  was  Mr.  Morgans  & 
the  house  that  Mr.  Greenland  afterward  hved  in, 
which  house  above  sayed  the  deponent's  husband, 
WilUam  Hilton,  did  hyer  of  Major  Nicholas  Shap- 
leigh." 

The  Greenland  here  mentioned  was  the  husband 
of  Mary  Greenland  the  alleged  witch.  Greenland 
was  banished  the  town.  He  wiis  the  first  physician 
in  these  parts;  but  what  might  be  his  quahfications 
for  healing  are  somewhat  obscured  by  Ms  reputation 
as  a  htigious  neighbor  and  as  a  man  who  delighted 
to  stir  in  poHtical  waters  when  charity  and  an  unruffled 
surface  were  most  desirable.  He  was  complained 
against,  and  after  a  trial  at  the  old  house  of  John 
Bray,  he  was  mulct  in  a  fine :  he  was  banished  from 
the  Massachusetts  jurisdiction  in  1672,  a  precedent 
for  the  modern  fasliion  of  disposing  of  the  "  hobo," 
or  any  other  undesirable  individual,  with  tliis  excep- 
tion, that  the  magistrate  stands  for  the  unwritten 
law  of  exile  from  the  municipahty. 

Phyllis'  Notch  is  here  midway  of  Warehouse  Point. 
It  is  a  httle  hollow  in  the  shore,  a  most  convenient 
ferry  landing.  It  is  said  it  took  its  graceful  cogno- 
men from  a  negro  woman  who  lived  about  here  in 
other  days.  If  you  wish  to  locate  the  cellar  of  the 
Shapleigh  house,  do  as  Stackpole  says;  stand  at  the 
"opening  of  this  notch,  facing  the  water;  on  the 
left  may  be  seen  the  site  of  the  first  house  built  in 
Kittery."  Here  was  the  red  warehouse  and  the 
old  tavern.  Alexander  Shapleigh  built  it  in  1635. 
As  one  follows  the  trend  of  Lawrence's  Cove,  a  sea- 


238  OLD   YORK 

wall,  substantially  laid  up,  still  remains,  and  it  was 
necessary,  to  save  the  shore  from  erosion  by  the 
continual  action  of  the  undertow.  Hugh  Gunni- 
son followed  Hilton  as  the  Ivittery  Boniface  at  this 
old  inn,  in  1651. 

There  was  another  inn  here  at  the  Point  as  early 
as  1644,  kept  by  one  Mendum.  Competition  was 
hvely,  and  it  is  doubtful  if  these  two  tapsters  ever 
broached  a  pot  of  ale  together,  for  in  1650  the  rec- 
ords of  the  local  court  make  mention  that  Men- 
dum's  wife  was  fined  five  pounds  for  saying, 
"The  devil  take  Mr.  Gulhson  and  his  wife."  Doubt- 
less Goody  Mendiun  was  the  household  barometer, 
as  some  strong-minded  wives  are,  and,  John  Allen 
hke,  spoke  for  her  husband,  as  in  a  way  for  herself. 

Gunnison  not  only  kept  the  tavern,  but  ran  a 
brewery. 

Shapleigh  sold  tliis  warehouse  and  tavern  prop- 
erty in  1662;  and  the  following  court  record  appears 
as  of  1661,  July  5th.  "Whereas  there  is  a  demand 
for  a  house  of  entertainment  at  the  place  called  the 
Poynt,  where  sometimes  Hugh  Gunnison  did  reside, 
and  whereas  there  is  constant  necessity  for  trans- 
portation across  the  Piscataqua  River  at  that  place 
the  Court  orders  that  Robert  Wadleigh  keep  an 
ordinary  there  and  take  charge  of  the  ferr}^  over  to 
Capt.  Pendleton's  side." 

With  the  builcUng  of  the  wharves  and  warehouses 
here,  and  the  coming  of  the  ships.  Warehouse  Point 
was  a  busy  and  a  populous  part  of  the  early  Ivittery 
community.     There   must    have    been    considerable 


OLD    YORK  239 

hitherwards,  as  in  1672,  or  about  that  time,  John 
Bray  set  up  an  inn  just  beyond  the  Peppeirell 
warehouses  and  wharves,  farther  down  tlie  Ettery 
Point  shore.  He  did  not  swing  any  sign,  and  the 
court  ordered  him  to  put  one  up,  wliich  doubtless 
he  did.  Bray  was  the  father  of  Margery  Bray, 
mother  of  the  baronet.  Sir  WilUam  Pepperrell. 

But  going  bacli  to  Warehouse  Point ;  Robert  Cutt 
came  here  from  the  West  Inches,  and  built  sh'ps  here 
at  Warehouse  Point.  He  died  in  1674,  and  liis  widow 
became  the  wife  of  Francis  Champernowne.  His 
house  was  at  Wliipple  Cove.  Stackpole  says  the 
brewery  was  one  of  the  "first  buildings  erected."  It 
was  regarded  as  a  pubhc  necessity.  Ale  and  beer 
were  the  national  Enghsh  drink,  and  the  old  Shap- 
leigh  house,  as  a  well-regulated  tavern,  was  well  pat- 
ronized; and  West  India  rum  and  beer  were  sold 
imder  the  direction  of  the  court.  As  early  as  1670 
Klttery  was  really  the  capital  of  the  province  of 
Maine.  Fleets  of  vessels  loaded  and  unloaded  here; 
and  with  the  ferry  between  Phyllis'  Notch  and  Great 
Island  and  Strawberry  Bank,  travel  was  of  growing 
proportions.  Here  was  the  thoroughfare  to  York, 
called  a  "road,"  which  was  laid  out  in  1649,  and 
wliich  for  years  after  was  only  a  pathway  for  horses. 
On  the  back  side  of  the  Point,  up  Spruce  Creek,  were 
numerous  sawmills.  The  elegant,  old-time  mansions 
were  going  up,  and  little  by  Uttle  the  Ivittery  Point 
highway  was  planed  down,  and  widened.  The  first 
streets  built  were  those  to  the  wharves  and  ware- 
houses.     It  was  the  tribute  that  trade  always  exacts. 


240 


OLD   YORK 


—  improved  facilities.  Its  population  was  largely 
of  the  artisan  class;  as  for  that,  all  were  workers, 
those  who  held  the  helm  and  furnished  the  wind,  as 
those  who  fished,  or  laid  the  bottoms  of  the  ships 
that  were  to  carry  the  harvest  of  the  seas  over  water 
to  far  countries. 

These  were  some  of  my  ruminations  as  I  sat  on  one 
of  the  sun-bleached  stringers  of  the  old  Cutt  wharf. 
It  was  a  royal  seat,  and  as  I  rubbed  my  hand  along 
its  surface,  pohshed  to  the  smoothness  of  glass  by 


irf-- 


THE   ANCHORAGE 


the  salt  spray  that  had  dashed  over  it  so  many  years, 
it  seemed  something  like  Aladdin's  lamp,  to  bring  to 
my  mental  vision  pictures  of  the  days  when  here  was  a 
scene  of  rude  activities,  along  wdth  the  sound  of  ham- 
mer and  saw,  and  the  "  Yo-heavc-o ! "  of  the  sailors 
getting  up  their  anchors,  or  letting  the  sails  go  on 
the  run  as  the  ships  swing  to  the  tide  with  taut 
cables. 

Here  is  an  idyllic  spot  for  a  sun  bath,  under  the 
fast  asleep  gable  of  the  warehouse,  silent  but  for  the 
scolding  of  the  wrens  in  the  tree  tops  at  one's  back 
and  the  sleep-distilUng  swash  that  marks  the  rhythm 
of  the  sea  rim  as  it  breaks  on  the  shale  of  Lawrence's 


OLD   YORK  241 

Cove.     The  wind  blows  from  the  southwest,  and  now 
one  hears  a  roulade  of  bugle  notes  from  Fort  Consti- 
tution, a  far-off  sound  that  brings  to  mind  the  song  of 
the  veery  at  twilight  as  it  comes  up  from  the  sea  of 
woodland  that  laps  the  foot  of  the  upland  homestead 
I  call  my  own.     A  white  sail  flaps  idly  in  the  offing, 
and  there  is  a  low  trail  of  smoke  on  the  horizon.      The 
light-towers  on  Whaleback  and  nearer    Fort   Point 
stand  stark  and  gray,  spectre-hke,  in  the  haze  of  the 
sea.     White  Island  tower  is  not  visible.     With  Apple- 
dore  and  her  sister  isles,  that  on  the  map  look  like  the 
clustered  Pleiades,  they  might  be  as  far  away  as  the 
seven  cities  of  Marco  Polo,  for  all  one  can  see.     Fort 
Constitution  is  but  a  low  gray  wall  on  the  water,  the 
forearm  of  Great  Island,   where  the  roofs   of   New 
Castle  ghmmer  in  the  sun,  and  its  windows  flash 
searchhght   rays   to   the   mainland    from   countless 
domes  of  verdurous  tree  tops.     A  half  mile  to  the 
eastward  is  a  green  mound  in  the  sea,  with  its  single 
low-roofed  house,  the  Anchorage,  and  this  is  Ravi- 
stock  Island,  the  owner  of  wliich  is  reputed  to  be 
somewhat  of  an  antiquarian;  it  would  be  a  matter 
of  wonderment  to  me,  were  he  not,  with  so  much  of 
old  Ilittery  before  him  from  morning  until  night ;  for 
if  the  old  Pepperrell  wharf  were  long  enough  it  would 
strike  his  cliimney  amidships.     But  I  presmne  he 
prefers  liis  boat;  at  least,  I  should. 

But  it  is  time  to  go;  and  within  the  cool  shadows 
of  the  warehouse,  I  stumble  up  the  steep  stairs;  and 
through  the  open  door  in  the  front  gable,  the  tawny 
streak  of  the  roadway  shows  the  track  of  the  newer 


242  OLD   YORK 

civilization.  Here  by  the  door  is  what  was  used  as 
the  coimting-room.  There  was  a  dingy  sign,  "No- 
tary Public,"  tacked  to  its  outer  side.  It  had  an 
ancient  appearance,  and  was  suggestive  of  manifests 
and  bills  of  lading.  An  old  table  was  huddled  in  one 
corner,  and  an  old  broken  stool  completed  the  furnish- 
ings. Here  was  really  the  end  of  all  things.  Out- 
side of  these,  its  other  adjuncts  were  a  musty 
atmosphere  and  an  extreme  dinginess,  only  reheved 
by  the  marvellous  tapestry  that  hung  at  its  single  win- 
dow, the  maker  of  which  was  snugly  tucked  away  in 
the  central  design  of  tliis  dainty  hammock.  I  think  it 
was  the  largest  and  most  perfectly  spun  web  I  have 
ever  had  the  good  fortune  to  see.  As  I  admired  it,  it 
seemed  a  Penelope-like  creation,  as  if  the  apparently 
sole  occupant  of  the  place  had  essayed  the  liistory  of 
this  old  hamit;  but  not  having  Abdallah  Baba's 
magic  box  of  ointment,  I  had  to  leave  it  as  I  found  it, 
its  mystery  unravelled.  Its  story  was  a  sealed  book, 
except  that  its  geometric  lines  were  the  untrimmed 
pages,  and  the  fog-stained  frame  of  the  window  its 
rigid  bincUng. 

It  occurred  to  me,  that  as  a  cover  design  for  a  book 
this  suggestion  of  Nature  was  sometliing  hardly  to 
be  improved  upon,  even  from  the  poster  point  of 
view. 

Out  again  upon  the  Via  Appia  of  the  ancient 
roadmaker,  one's  trend  is  to  the  eastward,  and  one's 
ears  are  startled  by  the  honk  of  an  automobile,  and 
one  is  reminded  of  the  opening  hues  of  Sldpper  Ire- 
son's  ride,  — 


OLD    YORK  243 

"Of  all  the  rides  since  the  birth  of  time, 
Told  in  story,  or  sung  in  rhyme,  — 
On  Apuleius's  Golden  Ass, 
Or  one-eyed  Calendar's  horse  of  brass, 
Witch  astride  of  a  human  back, 
Islam's  prophet  on  Al  Borak,  — 
The  strangest  ride  that  ever  was  sped," 

is  the  horseless  wild  thing  that  has  just  scurried  like 
an  autumn  leaf  before  the  wind,  down  the  road  to 
Fort  M'CIary,  leaving  beliind  a  swirl  of  dust,  hke 
what  Betty  Booker  and  her  coterie  of  hags  might 
have  raised  when  she  rode  Skipper  Perkins  down^to 
York  and  back  that  wild  November  night  if  the 
tempest  had  not  been  abroad.  What  would  Mather 
or  the  Salem  sheriff  have  thought  with  such  a  fear- 
some thing  abroad  in  the  days  of  Tituba! 

But  the  world  has  grown  fearless,  if  Dobbin  has 
not.  Like  the  arrow  of  Abaris,  there  is  magic  in 
the  modern  apphances  for  man's  conveyance  about  the 
world.  Perhaps  Andre  is  still  circhng  about  the 
North  Pole  in  liis  balloon. 

A  five-minute  walk  brings  one  to  the  site  of  one 
of  lottery's  block-houses.  It  is  a  famous  landmark 
hereabout,  and  is  pitched  upon  what  seems  Kittery's 
highest  outlook.  It  has  a  base  of  stone,  and  is 
surmoimted  by  a  wooden  garrison  house  of  the  old- 
time  type,  and  is  of  the  same  character  as  the  block- 
house at  Winslow,  on  the  Kennebec,  long  known  as 
Fort  Hahfax.  It  is  hexagonal,  with  ample  ports, 
and  is  patterned  after  the  one  first  built  here.  It 
has  an  overhang  above  its  base  of  spht  granite,  after 


244 


OLD  YORK 


the  manner  of  the  garrison  houses  of  the  early  period ; 
and  as  compared  with  its  sohd  foundation  presents 
a  manifest  incongruity  as  a  means  of  defence.  It 
was  known  as  Fort  William  as  early  as  1690,  and 
as  against  Indian  foray  it  would  have  a  sufficient 
place  of  refuge;  but  a  single  shot  from  a  modern 
Krupp  would  demoUsh  it  entirely.      Here  is  a  gov- 


ernment reservation  of  fifty  acres  or  more.  A  rude 
board  fence  separates  it  from  the  highway,  over 
which  one  chmbs  to  plunge  through  the  tangle  of 
low  birch  and  alder,  to  come  out  upon  an  elevated 
plateau,  where  tons  of  igneous  rock  have  been  blasted 
out  of  the  solid  ledge  to  make  way  for  the  granite 
bastions  and  angles  broken  here  and  there  by  em- 
brasures  for   heavy   guns    which   have    yet    to    be 


OLD    YORK  245 

mounted.     Here  is  a  suggestion  of  a  road,  and  as  one 
follows  it  one  comes    to  its  extreme  easterly  scarp, 
where  by  a  flight  of  steps  of  spht  stone  one  reaches 
the  highest  level  of  the  work.     Here  are  the  maga- 
zines and  the  barracks,  and  the  crazy  wooden  bridge 
or  steps  on  the  landward  side  by  which  one  mounts 
to  the  doorless  entrance  of  its  second  story.     It  is 
a  barren  interior,  stripped  of  every  vestige  of  its 
once  familiar  appointments.     A  winding  stair  leads 
to    the  lower  regions,  where  are  dog-holes  of  sohd 
masonry  occupying  its  central  area,  which  may  have 
been  intended  for  the  stowing  away  of  ammunition 
or  recalcitrant  humanity.     Tliin  ribbons  of  subdued 
hght  came  through  the  numerous  shts  in  the  walls, 
which  were  for  musketry,  and  as  I  stood  there  idly 
gazing   I    momently  expected  to  hear  the  ominous 
jangUng  of  keys  or  the  hail  of    the  guard;  but  the 
place  was  silent,  deserted    utterly.     I  mounted  the 
wentletrap  —steep  and  narrow  it  was  —  with  a  feel- 
ing of  pleasing  relief.     In  my  rummaging  I  found 
another  stairway.     This  led  to  the  garret,  for  I  could 
hken  it  to  notliing  else;  and  from  its  four  dormer 
windows  that  were  built  into  its  hip  roof,  I  got  a  far- 
away view  in  as  many  directions  that  repaid  me  for 
my  venture  across  the  rotten,  swaying  stair  outside 
that  was  as  suggestive  of  the  bridge  of  Al  Sirat  as 
anything,  for  it  bent  and  swayed  under  my  weight 
ominously.     From  one  of  these  cock-loft  dormers, 
I  saw 

"The  hills  curve  round  like  a  bended  bow; 
A  silver  arrow  from  out  them  sprung," 


246  OLD   YORK 

the  gleaming  reach  of  waters  that  flow  in  and  out 
of  Crockett's  Cove;  the  wider  span  of  Spruce  Creek 
that  twists  ingratiatingly  inland  to  the  northward, 
and  wooded  Mils  as  far  as  the  eye  can  go.  From 
another  there  was  a  gUmpse  of 

"Old  roads  winding,  as  old  roads  will. 
Here  to  the  ferry,  and  there  to  the  mill; 
And  glimpses  of  chimneys  and  gabled  eaves," 

and  the  huge  bulk  of  Champernowne's  Island  of  old; 
and  away  beyond,  the  woods  of  York,  and  the  silver 
threads  of  the  salt  creeks  and  the  yehow  marshes 
between.     Witliin  another  is  framed, 

"  The  blink  of  the  sea,  in  breeze  and  sun," 

and  the  widening  mouth  of  the  historic  river;  and 
beyond  the  low  wall  of  Fort  Constitution,  the  light 
on  Fort  Point,  and  the  gray  roofs  of  olden  New 
Castle,  Portsmouth  bar;  the  oasis  of  Ravistock  in 
its  turquoise  setting  of  the  sea;  and  farther  out,  the 
low  spine  of  Whale's  Back,  with  its  single  Pharos; 
and  nearer  the  dip  of  the  horizon,  the  spectral  figure 
of  White  Island's  beacon,  indistinct  in  the  purpUng 
mists,  that  overlook  Appledore  and  Smutty  Nose 
and  their  ragged  kindred,  as  if  each  were  under  the 
ban  since  the  dark  tragedy  that  forever  hnked  to- 
gether the  names  of  Louis  Wagner  and  Annethe 
Christensen;  a  group  of  gUstering  sails  that  fade 
away  under  the  immaculate  sky,  argosies  to  Any- 
where; while  almost  within  the  shadows  of  these 
weather-beaten  window  ledges,  are  the  classic  roof^ 
of  the  Pepperrells  and  their  ancient  contemporaries. 


-  OLD   YORK 


247 


Old  Fort  M' Clary  is  a  riiin.  The  government 
work  was  long  ago  abandoned.  The  old  derricks 
have  rotted  down.  Only  the  huge  piles  of  split  gran- 
ite and  three  heavy  somewhat  modern  ordnance 
mounted  on  massive  steel  carriages  indicate  the  scene 
of  acti\ity  that  at  one  time  prevailed  here.  Down 
near  the  landing  is  a  tier  of  heavy  guns,  unmounted 
and  prone  amid  the  lush  grasses  that  half  hide  them. 


FORT    M'CLARY    FROM    WAREHOUSE    POINT 


The  sea-wall  is  of  massive  proportions,  but  unfinished, 
as  if  the  work  had  been  dropped  suddenly  for  lack  of 
energy  or  money.  The  real  reason  was,  undoubtedly, 
that  the  advance  in  the  mysteries  of  destructive  pro- 
jectiles was  more  rapid  than  the  wit  of  the  naval 
board  could  forecast;  and  perhaps  it  was  thought 
best  to  wait  until  the  cHmax  of  these  bloodthirsty 
inventions  was  in  sight.  It  is  a  commanding  site 
and  covers  the  whole   entrance  to  the  Piscataqua; 


248  OLD   YORK 

but  as  sunken  batteries  seem  to  be  the  trend,  it  is 
doubtful  if  the  location  ^\ill  be  further  utihzed. 

A  barnlike  structure  of  brick  seems  to  have  been 
used  as  a  barrack.    At  either  end  are  comfortable 
fireplaces,  the  chimneys  running  up  the  outside  of 
the  gable ;  and  I  note  that  the  woodwork  of  one  fire- 
place is  entirely  gone,  and  the  other  has  lost  its  man- 
tel.    The  first  decorates  the  den  of  some  souvenir 
crank,  probably,  and  the  latter  may  make  up  the 
litter  that  this  sort  of  vandalism  is  always  sending 
garret-ward.    The  gunracks  are  suggestive,  and  the 
door  opens  out  directly  upon  the  parade,  which  com- 
mands a  magnificent  view  of  the  Piscataqua  harbor 
and  its  points  of  interest.     Fort  M'Clary's  story  is 
of  the  past,  as  is  that  of  Major  Andrew  M'Clary,  the 
gallant  leader  of  his  rustic  troops  at  Bunker  Hill. 
He  should  have  had  a  Uveher  memorial,  whose  asso- 
ciations should  have  some  part  in  the  present  at  least. 
Suppose  we  call  at  the  old  Pepperrell  house,  built 
by  William  Pepperrell,  or  Pepperrelle,  as  it  was  also 
spelled,  in  1682.     Pepperrell  was  born  probably  at 
Old  Plymouth,  England,  Ravistock  parish,  in  1646, 
and  was  possibly  of  Welsh  origin.    There  are  no  accu- 
rate data  as  to  his  ancestors,  but  it  is  kno^\Ti  that  in 
youthful  years  as  an  apprentice,  after  the  Enghsh 
fashion,  he  went  on  a  fishing  vessel  that  made  tripj 
to  the  fishing-banks  of  New  England,  and  in  tliis  man- 
ner he  undoubtedly  became  familiar  somewhat  with 
the  country  he  in  after  years  made  liis  own.     We  first 
hear  of  Mm  in  the  fishing  business  at  the  Isles  of 
Shoals.      He  carried  on  tliis  industry  here  for  some 


OLD   YORK 


249 


time,  and  was  evidently  a  shrewd  man,  as  it  is  known 
he  prospered  in  his  business,  so  that  in  time  he 
married  the  daughter  of  John  Bray,  whose  old  house 
still  faces  the  sea  all  these  people  hereabout  evidently 
loved  so  well.     If  mention  of  the  fact  has  not  been 


THE    PEPPERRELL    MANSE 


made  before,  it  is  worthy  of  a  casual  allusion,  that  all 
of  these  old  houses  face  the  sea,  and  the  road  to  York 
Harbor  passes  their  backdoors  instead  of  those  in  front. 
This  is  true  of  the  old  Bray  house  and  the  Pepperrell 
mansion  as  well.  Old  John  Bray  was  a  tavern- 
keeper,  and  a  man  of  a  large  landed  property.     When 


250  OLD   YORK 

Margery  Bray  married  William  Pepperiell,  her  father 
gave  liis  son-in-law  a  strip  of  land  on  the  northwest 
side  of  his  house,  and  there  this  now  ancient  dom- 
icile was  erected,  a  great  house  for  the  times  and  the 
locaUty.  Its  builder  no  doubt  had  in  mind  the  old 
manor-houses  he  knew  as  a  boy  in  England.  He  was 
a  provincial  Midas,  for  everything  he  touched  seemed 
to  turn  to  gold,  or  its  equivalent.  His  accumulations 
were  rapid  and  extensive.  He  was  an  enthusiastic 
investor  in  real  estate,  and  his  holdings  were  very 
considerable. 

He  was,  in  a  way,  one  of  the  wealthiest  men  in  New 
England.  After  this  house  was  built  he  erected  a 
wharf  at  the  foot  of  the  lane  that  ran  from  his  front 
door  down  to  the  shore,  and  on  it  were  ample  ware- 
houses in  which  were  stored  the  cargoes  and  imports 
which  constituted  Ms  local  trade,  which  was  large 
and  lucrative.  He  built  a  sliipyard  here,  and  the 
keels  of  many  a  vessel  were  laid  here  and  completed 
and  sent  out  to  all  parts  of  the  then  commercial  world. 
Here  is  ample  sea-room,  and  it  is  said  that  a  hundred 
sail  have  been  anchored  here  at  one  time;  more  than 
could  be  seen  to-day  at  the  wharves  of  almost  any 
Maine  port.  His  wealth  and  business  sagacity 
brought  him  prominence  in  local  affairs,  and  he  was 
for  tliirty  odd  years  the  local  magistrate,  and  from 
1715  he  was  judge  of  the  court  of  common  pleas.  He 
was  sometliing  of  a  miUtary  man,  for  he  was  in  com- 
mand of  the  forces  at  old  Fort  Wilham,  now  Fort 
M 'Clary,  as  captain,  and  ranked  in  the  provincial 
mihtia  as  lieutenant-colonel.     As  one  of  the  found- 


OLD   YORK  251 

ers  of  the  Congregational  Church  at  Kittery,  liis  in- 
fluence was  cast  along  the  lines  of  the  liighest  moral 
standards,  and  the  people  among  whom  he  went  out 
and  in,  could  not  but  feel  the  force  of  his  example. 
His  interest  in  religious  matters  was  strong  and  abid- 
ing, and  when  he  came  to  the  disposing  of  his 
estate  he  remembered  liis  church,  as  among  the  in- 
terests to  be  cared  for  when  liis  mantle  should  fall 
upon  another.  Tliis  came  on  the  fifteenth  of  Febru- 
ary, 1734.  If  one  would  see  the  spot  where  tliis  njost 
remarkable  man  of  Kittery  lies,  one  has  but  to  stand 
under  the  shadows  of  the  gable  of  the  house  he  built, 
and  cast  a  searching  glance  about  for  a  clump  of  ever- 
greens; and  it  is  there  witliin  their  Druid-like  circle, 
marked  by  a  massive  sarcophagus  of  granite  and 
marble,  the  place  will  be  located.  It  is  less  than  a 
minute's  walk,  and  one  is  in  the  old  Pepperrell  or- 
chard, and  beside  the  slab,  whereon  may  be  read  the 
brief  story  of  this  man's  career,  w^hich  is  accentuated 
by  the  coat  of  arms  afterward  achieved  by  the  Con- 
queror of  Louie  burg. 

Here  was  the  beginning  of  the  Pepperrell  name. 

Humble  enough,  was  it  not?  a  fishing-lad  without 
an  ancestry,  in  a  new  country,  liis  only  capital  his 
native  wit,  the  culmination  of  whose  thrift  and 
industry  made  him  the  largest  landed  proprietor 
in  Ms  province,  the  manipulator  of  the  most  exten- 
sive diversified  interests,  and  gave  him  an  honored 
place  on  the  provincial  bench.  The  story  over  again 
of  Dick  Whittington. 

He  was  ahke  honored  in  his  son,  who  became  Sir 


252  OLD    YORK 

William,  and  who  lived  in  the  paternal  home  until 
the  death  of  his  father.  The  wife,  Margery,  out- 
lived her  husband  some  seven  years.  Here  is  a 
quotation  of  one  of  the  Boston  papers  of  the  time: 
"She  was,  through  the  whole  course  of  her  life,  very 
exemplary  for  imaffected  piety  and  amiable  virtues, 
especially  her  charity,  her  courteous  affability,  her 
prudence,  meekness,  patience,  and  her  unwearied- 
ness  in  well-doing.  She  was  not  only  a  loving  and 
discreet  wife  and  tender  parent,  but  a  sincere  friend 
to  all  her  acquaintance." 

With  such  a  helpmeet,  what  might  not  a  man 
accompUsh !  and  to  what  heights  might  not  her 
children  climb  ! 

Margery  Pepperrell's  portrait  is  worth  looking  at. 
It  is  a  thoroughl}^  English  face,  and  its  lines  are 
of  the  royal  type,  reminding  one  of  the  Stuarts. 
There  is  a  fine  mingling  of  proportions,  and  the  head 
is  perfectly  balanced.  There  is,  too,  something  of 
the  Sibyl,  as  if  possessing  a  rare  and  faultless  dis- 
cernment. The  neck  and  shoulders  are  those  of 
Venus  de  Milo.  Every  quality  of  womanhood  men- 
tioned in  the  above  quotation  is  stamped  unmis- 
takably on  tills  face,  which  is  that  of  un  grande  dame. 

Wilham  Pepperrell,  who  was  knighted  after  the 
capture  of  Louisburg,  was  born  June  27,  1696,  and 
was  the  sixth  child.  His  brother  Andrew  was  the 
oldest,  who  died  without  male  offspring.  Four  girls 
came  between  these  two,  and  two  girls  followed 
Wilham.  It  was  a  goodly-sized  family  of  eight, 
all  of  whom  married  in  time;  neither  Andrew  nor 


OLD   YORK  253 

William  left  male  descendants,  and  with  the  death  of 
Sir  William  Pepperrell  the  family  name  was  extinct. 

Young  William  Pepperrell's  education  was  slender. 
He  was  trained  to  business,  for  he  could  sell  goods, 
sail  a  ship,  survey  a  lot  of  land,  scale  timber,  and 
manage  men.  He  went  into  land  speculations  and 
made  a  great  deal  of  money.  His  real  estate  greatly 
exceeded  that  of  his  father,  and  at  one  time  he  is  said 
to  have  been  able  to  ride  from  Kittery  to  Saco  on 
his  own  land.  Saco  was  once  known  as  Pepperrell- 
borough,  and  why  the  name  should  have  been 
changed  is  easily  accounted  for  by  the  short  word 
that  supplanted  the  lengtliier. 

He  was  the  evident  possessor  of  some  popularity, 
for  he  was  a  captain  of  cavalry  at  twenty-one,  and 
a  justice  of  the  peace.  At  tliirty  he  was  a  full- 
fledged  colonel  and  commanded  the  Maine  militia. 
He  was  made  a  member  of  the  governor's  council 
shortly  after,  wliich  office  he  held  for  over  tliirty 
years.  Eighteen  years  out  of  the  tliirty  he  was  presi- 
dent of  the  council.  In  1726-27  he  was  a  member 
of  the  General  Court,  and  from  1730  until  his  death 
in  1759,  July  6,  he  was  chief  justice.  In  1734  he 
took  up  his  father's  work  in  the  Kittery  chm'ch,  and 
was  prominent  in  church  matters.  At  one  time  the 
preacher,  George  Whitefield,  was  his  guest  at  Pep- 
perrell House.  He  was  a  man  of  amiable  char- 
acter, as  it  is  said  he  never  lost  the  sympathy  or 
ccmpanionship  of  liis  to^vnspeople. 

The  above  is  a  brief  summary  of  the  career  of  the 
man,  a  man  in  many  ways  distinguished  above  his 


254 


OLD   YORK 


fellows,  with  the  additional  prestige  acquired  in  his 
exploit  as  commander  of  the  Louisburg  expedition 
in  1745,  the  result  of  wliich  was  the  capture  of  that 
hitherto  regarded  impregnable  fortress.  The  siege 
was  a  brief  but  impetuous  one,  to  the  expenses  of 
wliich  Pepperrell  personally  contributed  five  thou- 
sand pounds.  It  won  him  a  baronetcy  and  a  coat 
of  arms.  Nimierous  of  Ms  townsmen  were  with  him 
in  tliis  glorious  venture,  and    doubtless  the  tales  of 


THE    PEPPERRELL    ARMS 


his  prowess  gilded  many  an  after-evening  by  the 
firesides  of  Ettery  and  Berwick  with  the  halo  of 
romance;  for  he  had  fifty  Berwick  men  with  him 
under  the  immecUate  command  of  Capt.  Moses 
Butler.  He  was  honored  with  a  commission  in  1756, 
in  the  royal  forces,  as  lieutenant-general.  Drake 
says,  Whitefield,  on  his  visit  to  the  lottery  church, 
and  while  a  guest  of  Pepperrell,  gave  him  the  motto 
for  his  banner, 

"  Nil  Desperandum ;  Christo  Duce. " 


OLD   YORK  255 

As  one  recalls  the  story  of  this  Church  Mihtant,  it 
seems  as  if  his  eloquence  and  spiritual  power  had 
been  dipped  in  the  essence  of  the  same  creed. 

Pepperrell  married  Mary  Hirst,  of  Boston,  evi- 
dently a  woman  of  fine  culture  and  a  similar  per- 
sonahty.  She  survived  her  husband,  and  after  the 
mansion  at  Warehouse  Point  had  been  completed 
by  her  son-in-law,  Captain  Sparhawk,  she  removed 
from  the  first  Pepperrell  house,  into  this.  There 
she  continued  to  reside  until  her  decease,  which  oc- 
curred November  25,  1789.  This  fine  old  house  has, 
fortunately,  suffered  no  change.  It  is  the  same  as 
in  the  days  when  its  aristocratic  mistress  moved 
through  its  halls  and  ample  rooms;  and  in  the  lower 
hall  and  fore-room  may  still  be  seen  the  same  fur- 
nisliings  as  when  her  comely  and  graceful  presence 
adorned  them.  Her  portrait  is  suggestive  of  the 
famous  Nell  Gwynn. 

Why  she  should  have  left  the  old  home  is  something 
she  could  have  explained,  had  there  been  need  of  it; 
but  with  her  ample  fortune  she  undoubtedly  insisted 
upon  more  modern  and  elegant  surroimdings  in  which 
the  stately  traditions  of  the  nobihty  so  recently  ac- 
quired tlii'ough  her  husband's  knighthood  might  be 
better  sustained. 

Here  is  Fernald's  story  of  the  house  built  by  the 
husband  of  sweet  Margery  Bray. 

He  says,  "It  was  a  square  house  about  forty- 
five  feet  long  and  of  the  width  that  it  now  is,  and  had 
two  chimneys,  with  a  sharp  roof.  Colonel  Pepperell 
carried  on  the  fisliing  business.     At  his  decease,  his 


256 


OLD   YORK 


son,  Sir  William  Pepperell,  took  possession  of  the 
estate.  He  made  additions  of  about  fifteen  feet  on 
both  ends  of  the  house,  and  altered  the  roof,  to  the 
present  form,  and  revised  it  throughout,  and  built  the 
wharf  and  four  stores,  and  built  a  tomb,  and  extended 
his  land  from  the  partition  wall  between  Capt.  Jolin 
Underwood,  now  Joanna  Mitchell,  and  the  now 
Thomas  Hoyt,  from  this  line  westward  up  to  the  lane 


i«l---«iSif' 


THE    PEPPERRELL   WHARVES 


leading  down  to  Capt.  Robert  Follet,  now  J.  Law- 
rence. On  the  north  of  the  Mansion  House  was  the 
Great  Orchard,  so  called,  in  the  middle  of  wliich  he 
built  a  tomb.  After  the  war  commenced.  Sir  Wil- 
liam Pepperell's  estate  was  called  Tory  property, 
and  many  thought  that  they  might  destroy  it  at 
pleasure.  In  the  year  1774  my  father  moved  into 
the  Mansion  House,  so  called,  to  take  care  of  it.  Colonel 
Sparhawk  having  previously  built  a  house  for  Lady 
Pepperell,  so  called,  widow  of  Sir  WilUam.  Said  house 


OLD    YORK  257 

is  owned  by  Capt.  Joseph  Cutts,  where  she  lived  the 
remainder  of  her  days  and  died  there.     At  the  end  of 
the  Revohitionary  War,  all  Sir  AViUiam's  estate  was 
considered  confiscated,  or  Tory  property,  because  it 
belonged  by  wiU  to  William  P.  Sparhawk,  who  had 
fled  liis  country  and  joined  our  enemies.     Therefore, 
our  government  had  orders  to  sell  at  public  auction 
all  the  land  and  buildings  formerly  belonging  to  Sir 
William  Peppereil  as  Tory  property.     Beginning  with 
the  Mansion   House    about   the  year  1790,  as  well 
as  I  can  remember,  Capt.  Samuel  Smallcorn  bought 
the  Mansion  House  and  the  two  lots,  one  on  wliich  the 
house  stands,  and  the  other  owned  now  by  Capt.  Dan- 
iel Frisbee,  together  with  the  wharf.      In  the  same 
or  next  year,  Thomas  D.  Cutts  bought  the  said  Man- 
sion House  of  Captain  Smallcorn,  and  commenced 
tavern,  and  carried  on  fishing  and  built  the  store  that 
Capt.   Daniel    Frisbee    now  occupies.     Major   Cutts 
set  out  all  those  elm-trees  around  the  premises.     He 
flourished  for  some  time,  but  there  was  a  leak  under 
the  house,  and  in  a  few  years  it  leaked  out  and  by 
mortgage    became    Richard    Cutts'    property.      He 
carried  on  fishery  and  foreign  trade  for  many  years, 
but  trusting  too  much  to  other  people's  honesty,  he 
fell  in  the  rear  and  sold  the  house  and  lands  to  Elder 
J.  Meader  and  Capt.  Jesse  Frisbee.    Captain  Frisbee  in 
a  few  years  was  lost  at  sea.     Elder  Meader  sold  the 
house  to  Charles  G.  Bellamy,  Esq.,  and  Mr.  Thomas 
Hoyt  in  the  year  1848.     They  divided  the  land  and 
took  off  the  bend,  or  room,  from  each   end  of  the 
house,  and  left  it  in  the  same  form  on  the  ground  that 


a 


258  OLD   YORK 

Col.  William  Pepperell  built  it.  It  is  now  (1849) 
owned  by  Charles  G.  Bellamy,  Esq.,  who  has  made  a 
very  large  repair,  and  it  is  hkely  it  may  stand  another 
century,  excepting  fire,  as  it  has  stood  through  all  the 
past." 

A  quaintly  told  story,  in  which  everybody  seems 
to  be  a  captain  and  to  smack  of  salty  winds,  and  the 
wholesome  smell  of  fish,  except  that  Squire  Bellamy 
and  his  clerical  grantor  add  sometliing  of  a  piquant 
flavor  to  the  "leak"  under  the  house. 

Referring  to  the  Lady  Pepperrell  house  once  more, 
Drake  says,  "It  was  nothing  but  a  wreck  ashore." 
He  was  writing  of  it  about  tliirty  years  ago,  a  genera- 
tion, but  it  is  a  finely  preserved  mansion  without  the 
shghtest  vestige  of  decay  about  it.  The  "  fluted  pilas- 
ters on  either  side"  of  the  door,  were  "rotting  away" 
in  Ms  day,  but  strange  to  say  in  the  beginning  of  the 
twentieth  century  they  are  as  sound  apparently  and 
as  handsome  as  the  day  when,  imder  the  direc- 
tion of  Colonel  Sparhawk,  they  were  put  in  place. 
He  found  the  old  rookery  "haunted";  so  I  did,  but 
by  three  little  misses  who  were  as  amiable  and  as 
charming  in  their  manners  as  Lady  Pepperrell  was 
reputed  to  have  been.  The  exterior  is  as  fresh  as  a 
corn-color  pigment  well  laid  on,  can  make  it,  while 
the  interior  is  delightfully  cool  and  restful,  finished  en- 
tirely in  "dead  white,"  that,  to  use  an  old  pro\incial 
expression,  "looked  clean  enough  to  cat  off."  I 
wish  Drake  could  have  a  pair  of  the  Mormon's  gog- 
gles, and  could  see  it  as  I  did.  But  that  was  in  the 
days  of  poor  Sally  Cutts. 


OLD   YORK  259 

Fernald's  story  is  suggestive  of  the  indifference  of 
the  owners  of  the  old  Pepperrell  house,  as  it  has 
come  to  one  and  another  of  them,  to  its  liistoric 
value  as  the  hibernaculimi  of  old-time  traditions,  and 
of  a  glory  that  has  forever  passed  away.  It  is  a  ruth- 
less hand  these  mutations  have  shown;  and  it  is 
unfortunate  that  nhe  bend  or  room"  at  each  end 
of  the  house  could  not  have  been  left  intact.  The 
Bellamys   still    occupy    the    house,    descendants    of 


THE    CLAVICHORD 


Squire  Bellamy.  They  are  loth  to  open  it  to 
strangers,  nor  do  I  much  blame  them,  now  that  I 
have  seen  the  destructive  marks  of  the  souvenir- 
hunter.  I  foimd  the  great  hall  of  the  same  style 
as  that  of  the  mansion  house  of  Lady  Pepperrell. 
The  balustrade  and  the  wainscoting  was  of  the 
same  panelUng;  the  same  patterns  of  hand-carved 
balusters,  four  to  a  "tread,"  and  each  unhke  the 
others;  the  same  fluted  hand-rail,  the  same  newel- 
post  surmounted  by  an  armorial  device  appurtenant 
to  the  Pepperrell  coat  of  arms.  At  the  first 
landing  of  the  very  wide  stair  was  an  ancient  clavi- 


260  OLD   YORK 

chord.  I  raised  its  lid,  nor  did  its  keys  look  over- 
yellow  with  age,  yet  this  old  instrument  was  brought 
from  over  the  seas,  long,  long  years  ago,  in  the  days 
of  the  first  Pepperrell.  I  did  not  touch  those  keys. 
I  could  not,  as  I  thought  of  the  hands,  silent  for  over 
a  century  and  a  half,  the  fine  sympathetic  touch 
of  Margery  Pepperrell  that  once  awoke  its  slender 
wealth  of  harmony.  It  was  a  silent  ghost  of  former 
actuaUties.  I  knew  the  sound  it  would  give  forth, 
had  I  pressed  do\\Ti  a  single  white  key.  The  sharp 
wail  of  the  fox,  coming  on  the  night-wind  from  the 
deeps  of  the  woods,  has  the  same  tonic  weirdness,  the 
same  cry  of  the  forsaken.  These  old  strings,  awake 
them,  no ;  rather  let  them  sleep  as  Margery  Pepperrell 
and  the  other  Margery  have  slept  these  many  years. 
There  are  some  tilings  one  should  not  touch,  and  this 
is  one  of  them.  An  old  chair  or  two,  of  unmistak- 
ably Enghsh  make,  are  here  to  accentuate  the  flavor 
of  the  atmosphere ;  most  of  the  balusters  in  the  beauti- 
ful balustrade  are  gone,  and  in  their  place  are  the 
common  round  supports  such  as  might  have  been 
run  through  a  dowel-machine.  Perhaps  a  third, 
numerically  speaking,  of  the  originals  are  here;  but 
the  others  have  been  kicked  out  and  smuggled  out 
of  the  house,  from  time  to  time,  by  visitors  and  sight- 
seeing vandals.  Great  scars  are  here,  in  the  hand- 
carven  mouldings,  where  considerable  pieces  have 
been  hacked  out  by  these  predatory  bipeds  and  slyly 
pocketed.  The  Messrs.  Bellamy  told  me  that  with 
a  party  of  si  dozen  in  the  old  house  it  was  impossible 
to  prevent  it.    The  stranger  must  needs  have  some 


OLD   YORK  261 

other  motive  than  mere  curiosity  to  have  the  privi- 
lege of  treacling  the  floors  that  once  echoed  to  the 
footfalls  of  the  Pepperrells. 

Below   stairs,  the   rooms  are  square  but  do  not 
impress  one  as  over-large.     The  old-fasHoned  fire- 
places went  when  the  old  cliimneys  were  taken  down 
and  rebuilt;  but  the  interior  decoration  is  the  same; 
the  bases  of  the  new  cliimneys  were  extended  so  as 
to  fill  the  space  occupied  by  those  first  built.     When 
the  "bends"  were  taken  off  the  ends  of  the  old  house, 
and  the  space  of  fifteen  feet  was  removed,  the  walls 
of  the  original  gables,  with  the  inside  finish,  were  set 
in  that  distance,  and  finished  up;  so  that  the  house, 
with  the  exception  of  the  roof,  is  the  same  that  was 
built   by  the  first  Pepperrell.     The   old  wine  closets 
are  all  here.     I  am  told  the  kitchen  is  the  same,  and 
which  is  small.     Here,  when  the  elder  Bellamy  was 
aUve,  Judge  Nathan  Chfford  was  accustomed  to  come 
as  an  honored  and  intimate  guest  during  Ms  lifetime, 
and  here  many  a  story  of  the  old  time  has  been 
broached,  wliich,  could  they  have  been  preserved, 
would  have  been  worthy  of  a  binding  of  their  own. 
To  sit  in  one  of  those  old  chairs  is  to  dream  as  did 
De  Quincey,   with  fantasy  upon  fantasy  crowding 
the  mind.     Mine    host  brought  out  an  ancient  long 
fowHng-piece,  that  had  come  down  with  the  house. 
With  its  butt  on  the  floor,  a  man  of  six  feet  in  height 
could  barely  look  into  its  black  muzzle.     It  had  a 
ma-^sive   flintlock,    and    I   wondered   if    Mr.   Henry 
Joe  lyn  had  ever  drawn  bead  along  its  long  barrel. 
He  was  a  notorious  Nimrod,  and  frequented  Ivittery 


262  OLD   YORK 

more  or  less.  He  went  a-fishing  down  the  harbor 
and  out  upon  the  fisliing-grounds  once  surely.  He 
says,  ''Having  Imes  we  proceeded  to  the  fisliing- 
banks  without  the  harbor,  and  fished  for  cod,  but  it 
not  being  the  proper  time  of  tide,  we  caught  but  two." 
He  was  at  that  time  president  of  the  province.  Con- 
sidering liis  wonderful  adventures  in  Casco  Bay  with 
Michael  Mitton,  with  the  tritons  and  mermen  so 
famiUar,  he  must  have  considered  the  sport  at  Pis- 
catnqua  rather  uneventful. 

Tliis  old  manse  is  beautifully  situated  and  its  gray 
roof  is  barely  to  be  discerned  amid  the  domes  of  its 
towering  elms.  The  liighway  passes  its  back  door, 
so  nearly  that  one  can  almost  get  the  feel  of  its 
weather-stained  clapboards,  a  stain  of  such  delicate 
shadings  of  gray  and  pearl,  with  just  a  suggestion  of 
vert  where  a  hchen  has  attached  itself,  as  to  defy  the 
art  of  the  color  maker.  Here  are  some  studies  for 
the  water-colorist.  Only  the  mysteries  of  Winsor 
and  Newton,  and  the  teclmique  of  Alfred  Bellows,  or 
Swain  Gifford,  can  approximate  to  the  flexibihty  of 
tones  and  values  that  lurk  in  these  marvellously 
evasive  combinations  of  constantly  changing  color. 

But  if  one  cannot  have  them  on  a  sheet  of  What- 
man, one  can  come  and  see  them  occasionally,  and 
then  go  home  and  dream  about  them,  wliich,  perhaps, 
is  more  intoxicating. 

One  leaves  tliis  ancient  Hving-place,  once  the  home 
of  two  judges  and  a  baronet;  and  later  the  tavern 
stand  of  landlord  Cutts,  and  now  the  quiet  abiding- 
place  of  the  Bellamys,  with  mingled  feeUngs  of  Uvely 


OLD   YORK  263 

interest  in  its  famous  associations  and  of  pleasure  at 
having  made  its  acquaintance.     Closely    allied  with 
it,  and  wliich  should  have  a  place  here,  is  the  tomb 
in  "the  Great  Orchard."     The  tomb  is  here,  but  no 
vestige  of  the  orchard  remains.     Tliis  last  resting- 
place  of  the  Pepperrells  is  less  than  two  minutes' 
walk  from  the  manse.     It  is  Mdden  within  an  encir- 
cling rim  of  dark  firs.     Just  without  tliis  Druid  circle 
is  a  diminutive  red  slate  stone,  hardly  twenty  inches 
high  and  perhaps  a  foot  wide,  wliich  marks  the  grave 
of  Miriam  Jackson,  1720.     How  she  came  to  be  the 
only   one  of   the  name  to  be  interred  outside   the 
Pepperrell  circle,  a  grand-daughter  of  the  first  Pepper- 
rell,  might  be  a  source  of  some  curiosity  to  the  indi- 
vidual of  inquiring  mind.     Miriam  Jackson's  mother 
was  the  tliird  daughter  of  the  first  Wilham  Pepper- 
rell, and  tliis  babe,  Miriam,  died  tliirteen  years  be- 
fore her  grandfather.      Probably  this  old  stone  was 
set    some    years    before   the    Pepperrell    tomb  was 
brought  liither  from  London  and  put  in  position,  and 
it  was  left  in  its  original  location.     The  top  plane  of 
the  tomb  is  of  marble,  and  is  upheld  upon  a  heavy 
granite  base,  that  is  as  stable  as  the  hillock  whose 
apex  it  surmounts.    On  the  slab,  somewhat  discolored 
and  hchen  stained,  one  may  read  a  modest  tale  — 
"Here  lies  the  Body  of  the  Honorable 
WILLIAM  PEPPERRELL,  Esq. 
who  departed  this  life  the  15th  of 
Feb.,  Anno  Domini  1733,  in  tlie 
87th  year  of  his  Age. 
With  the  Remains  of  great  part  of  his 
Family." 


264  OLD    YORK 

This  simple  annal  stands  for  the  whole  of  the  Pep- 
perrell  posterity  wliich  is  absorbed  in  the  personality 
of  the  original  ancestor.  The  only  suggestion  of  the 
baronet  is  in  the  coat  of  arms  which  is  very  ornate, 
and  which  takes  up  about  one  third  of  the  marble. 
Its  situation  is  isolated,  yet  there  is  a  mute  compan- 
ionsliip  in  these  encirchng  firs,  that  lock  arms  so 
closely,  with  not  a  dead  tree  or  a  break  of  foliage 
among  them  all.  There  is  sometliing  kindly,  too, 
in  the  pall-Uke  hovering  of  their  perpetual  coolness, 
as  if  here  were  a  veritable  Shadow-land;  and  when 
the  winds  blow,  as  they  do  most  of  the  time,  Nature 
pulls  the  stops  of  her  great  organ  wide  open,  and  a 
solemn  dirge  beats  the  air  tremulously. 

At  this  place  in  our  story  there  comes  to  mind  a 
tale  of  love,  —  a  bit  of  the  romance  of  the  old  days, 
when  a  comely,  capable  young  woman  was  a  grand 
prize  in  the  lottery  of  life,  who  could  have  her 
choice  among  the  young  men  of  her  vicinage.  Mar- 
gery Bray  was  without  doubt  betrothed  to  Joseph 
Pearce;  and  had  he  not  sailed  out  to  sea  as  he  did, 
she  might  not  have  obtained  so  notable  a  place  in  the 
early  history  of  Kittery  as  her  marriage  with  William 
Pepperrell  brought  to  her.  Eleanor  Pearce  took  a 
great  interest  in  th's  yoimg  woman.  To  quote  Stack- 
pole,  "  She  made  her  will  in  1675  and  named  a  son 
Joseph  who  died  at  sea  about  1676,  and  left  all  his 
estate  to  Margery  Bray."  Margery  Bray's  father 
married  a  sister  of  tliis  Joseph  Pearce.  Her  name 
was  Jane.  A  glance  at  a  few  extracts  from  the  Kit- 
tery court  records  will  be  interesting. 


OLD   YORK  265 

Richard  Row,  deposes  1  Oct.  1678:  "  of  Kittery, 
aged  about  40;  that  in  the  latter  part  of  year  1676 
Jos:  Pearce  hving  then  in  liittery  came  to  me  and 
Jolm  Andrews  both  of  us  togeather  and  desired  of  us 
very  earnestly,  begging  of  us  both  to  take  notice  of 
his  words  that  after  his  decease  w"  all  liis  debts  was 
payed,  that  y^  remaind""  of  his  estate  hee  freely  gave 
unto  Margery  Bray  daughter  to  John  Bray  of  lottery 
sliipwright  &  further  begging  very  Earnestly  of  this 
Depone*  that  hee  would  not  forget  it,  that  shee  might 
not  bee  cheated  of  Jt  &  further  sayd  tliis  shall  bee 
my  last  will  &  testame*." 

Samson  Wliitte,  aged  23,  deposes  likewise,  adding 
that  Joseph  Pearce  "went  last  to  sea." 
Likewise,  John  Andrews,  aged  26. 
July,  1679;  "To  settle  estate  of  Jos  Pearce  late  of 
Ivittery  deed  first  one-third  to  be  delivered  to  Saraih 
Mattown  sister  to  said  Pearce  — " 

"Saraih  Mattown  alias  Jones  or  Pearce  not  living 
with  her  husband." 

1681;  "Complaint  of  Rupert  Mattown  Saraiah 
Joanes  aHas  Pearce  since  married  to  said  Mattown,  — 
relating,  to  a  divorse  between  both  parties." 

The  complaint  was  allowed  and  the  divorce  was 
decreed,  the  second,  perhaps,  in  the  province  of 
Maine,  and  the  entry  is  properly  minuted  upon  the 
docket. 

1684;  "WilUam  Pepperly,  (note  the  spelling  of 
Pepperrell's  name),  is  Plaintiff  in  an  action  of  the 
case  for  witholding  of  an  Estate  given  unto  Mar- 
gery the  wife  of  sd  Plaintiff  Contra  Hene:  Seavey 


266  OLD   YORK 

Defend*  The  Jury  mids  for  the  Defend*  Costs  of 
Court  8^  6^  " 

Sargent  says  Eleanor  Pearce  "was  the  widow 
of  John  Pearse,  who  removed  from  CharlestowTi  to 
Kjttery,  and  died  in  1673  leaving  an  estate  appraised 
at  £154.  .  .  .  The  above  notes  considered  collec- 
tively furnished  a  long-sought  clue  to  the  grand- 
mother of  the  Baronet,  Sir  Wilham  Pepperrell,  the 
wife  of  John  Bray.  Her  Christian  name  is  given  in 
the  Wentworth  Book,  I.  307  n.,  as  Jane,  and  it  was 
correctly  surmised  that  she  was  a  Pearse,  sister  to 
the  above  Joseph.  York  Probate  Records,  I.,  40, 
affords  the  proof  positive  in  an  agreement  between 
John  Braey  and  Micom  Macantire,  dated  April  7, 
1699,  in  which  they  describe  themselves  as  '  sons- 
in-law  to  John  Pearce.' 

"Thus  by  the  fortunate  mention  of  the  proportion 
awarded  by  the  Court  above,  after  its  decision  that 
what  Joseph  Pearce  intended  should  be  Ms  nmicupa- 
tive  will,  was  too  long  anterior  to  Ms  death  to  be  per- 
mitted to  go  upon  record  as  such,  are  we  enabled  to 
decide  that  there  were  three  of  Ms  sisters ;  Sarah,  the 
eldest,  who  had  married,  1 Jones,  2,  Rupert  Mat- 
toon;  Jane,  wife  of  Jolm  Bray,  who  had  certainly 
predeceased  both  her  mother  (not  being  mentioned 
in  her  will  above)  and  her  brother  Joseph,  leaving  an 
only  cMld  Margery  (who  became  the  mother  of  the 
baronet);  and  Mary  who  married  Micom  Macantire." 

Here  is  a  story  of  a  first  love ;  a  domestic  f alHng  out ; 
a  serious  charge  against  the  wife,  of  a  prior,  concealed 
marriage,  and  Mattoon's  desertion,  he  going  to  the 


OLD   YORK 


267 


Barbadoes  instead  of  the  D;  kotahs,  find  ultimately, 
the  modern  panacea  —  divorce;  a  protn  cted  property 
litigation,  and  a  perversion  of  the  property  to  pur- 
posely ignored  heirs.  What  a  tale  for  the  romancer! 
This  is  probably  Pepperrell's  only  appearance  in 
court. 

The  old  John  Bray  house  stands  beside  that  of  the 


,,'ni|'w#. 


THE    BRAY    HOUSE 

Pepperrells,  a  massive  old  affair,  where  tliis  Margery 
Bray  was  wooed  and  won  by  the  Isles  of  Shoals  fisher- 
man. But  the  wooing  of  a  maid  in  those  days  was 
a  very  serious  affair.  The  young  folk  did  not  have 
the  liberty  accorded  to  the  summer  girl  of  the  present 
period.  It  is  not  probable  that  they  were  allowed 
to  watch  the  sea  under  the  moonlit  sides,  that  are 
nowhere  fairer  than  here  at  Ivittery,  for  long,  unmo- 


268  OLD   YORK 

lested,  if  at  all.  It  was  not  considered  "meet"  for 
the  colonial  maid  to  be  much  out  of  her  elders'  com- 
pany with  a  determined  lover  about,  laying  desperate 
siege  to  her  favor  with  every  opportunity.  But 
doubtless  William  Pepperrell  was  as  industrious  in 
liis  love-making  as  in  the  curing  of  liis  fish  in  his 
yards.  Jolin  Bray  watched  these  young  people 
jealously,  I  have  no  doubt;  but  love  had  its  way, 
as  it  generally  does,  with  a  fair  chance;  and  Mar- 
gery Bray,  after  her  father  had  been  properly  spoken 
to,  married,  and  as  one  may  beheve,  happily.  She 
became  the  mother  of  a  large  and  promising  family, 
one  of  whom  was  the  famous  baronet,  the  conqueror 
of  Louisburg. 

This  Bray  house  is  roomy,  and  in  the  day  of  its 
building  by  tliis  earhest  of  Ivittery's  sliip-builders 
and  innkeepers  was  a  luxurious  abode.  It  was 
erected  in  1662,  and  is  said  to  be  the  most  ancient 
house  in  present  Ivittery.  Ten  years  after  its  build- 
ing, Jolm  Bray  extended  his  good-natured  hospital- 
ity to  the  travelling  public.  A  fine  old  inn  it  must 
have  been,  for  liis  custom  became  so  extensive  that 
the  court  ordered  him  to  advertise  his  wares  of  polite- 
ness and  good  cheer  by  hangmg  a  sign.  Local 
historians  do  not  make  any  mention  of  what  it  was; 
whether  it  was  copy  of  one  that  attracted  his  atten- 
tion in  old  Plymouth,  or  one  of  his  indi\4dual  incuba- 
tion, has  not  been  thought  to  be  of  much  interest. 

Stackpole  says  there  is  no  record  of  Bray's  being 
in  Kittery  before  1662;  and,  as  the  daughter  was 
born  in  1660,  he  tliinks  she  came  over  from  Plymouth 


OLD   YORK  269 

with  her  father.     She  was  a  daughter  by  his  first  wife. 
He  was  one  of  the  first  to  engage  in  ship-buikhng  here, 
thus  laying  the  foundation  for  the  Pepperrell  fortune. 
The  connection  of  tliis  old  house  with  the  Pepperrell 
name,  and  its  prestige  as  having  been  in  the  old  days, 
the  place  of  holding  the  court  of  the  province,  give  it 
its  importance.     It  is  in  a  fine  state  of  preservation 
and  is  worth  a  visit.     Its  gable  is  adjacent  to  that  of 
the  Pepperrell  manse,  and  both  look  down  on  the  Pep- 
perrell wharves  and  storehouses  that  are  to-day  in  con- 
stant use.     I  noticed  that  these  old  laying-by  places 
for  vessels  were    apparently  as  sohd  as  when    they 
were  built  two  hundred   and  more    years  ago,  and 
that  their  usefulness  was   to  be  still  further  perpet- 
uated.    Piles  were  being  driven  for  an  extension  of  the 
main  pier  upon  which  a  half-score  of  men  were  ac- 
tively engaged.     Here  is  a  fine  beach  athwart  which 
was  the  hull  of  a  large  coaster  burned  to  the  water's 
edge  three  or  four  years  ago,  and  half  submerged  by 
the  tide.     It  is  a  suggestive  adjunct  to  these  old  relics, 
and  if  one  did  not  know  that  a  cargo  of  Rockland  lime 
was  at  the  bottom  of  this  disaster,  one  might  conjure 
up  a  score  of  tales  of  sliipwreck,  any  one  of  which 
would  fit  out  the  charred  ribs  of  this  old  hulk  with  a 
garb  of  thrilling  romance.     Here  was  the  scene  of  the 
principal  activities  of  Kjttery  in  the  days  of  the  Pep- 
perrells.     Hides  were  tanned  here,  the  site  of  the  old 
tannery  being  just  west  of  the  manse.     It  was  near 
the  water;  and  these  sands  are  known  to-day  as  Tan 
House  Beach.      The  baronet  had  a  park  here,  where 
he  had  a  herd  of  moose  and  deer.     There  is  a  house 


270 


OLD   YORK 


here,  also,  known  as  the  Park  House ;  and  a  little  far- 
ther to  the  westward  was  a  finer  mansion  even  than 
the  Sparhawk,  which  was  built  by  the  baronet  for 
another  daughter  as  a  wedding  present.  Unfortu- 
nately, after  the  War  of  the  Revolution  closed,  this 
was  taken,  ultra  vires,  by  the  returned  Continentals, 
piecemeal,  for  their  own  use  —  a  species  of  dras- 
tic  confiscation    that   ended   in    the    complete  dis- 


OLD    TRAIPE    CIDER-PRESS 


integration  of  what  was  once  the  finest  colonial  resi- 
dence ever  built  in  New  England.  Langley  and 
Hooke  were  nearby  neighbors  of  Bray  on  the  west, 
but  nothing  remains  but  the  court  records  to  show 
where  their  tents  were  pitched.  On  the  east  were  the 
Deerings.  The  Joan  Deering  house  is  here,  and  across 
Deering's  Guzzle  is  an  old  Wolfert's  Roost,  but  the 
stepping-stones  are  gone.     They  went  when  the  elec- 


OLD   YORK  271 

trie  power-house  came  in.  Deering's  Guzzle  has  lost 
its  freshners  and  its  old-time  charm.  Where  were 
once  the  stepping-stones  at  low  tide  over  which  the 
Kittery  folk  were  wont  to  pass  dry-shod,  as  it  is  re- 
corded the  Israelites  made  the  passage  of  the  Red  Sea, 
is  the  power-house  dam;  and  where  the  marsh  grass 
and  the  meadow  blooms  swayed  or  nodded  in  the  wind 
is  the  debris  of  the  ash  heap,  a  dump  of  coal-screenings, 
and  a  low-walled  temple  of  mystery,  which,  taken 
literally,  might  be  made  to  stand  for  anytliing  from 
an  official  perquisite  dovm  to  a  five-cent  fare;  and 
for  the  piping  of  the  plover,  the  yeap  of  the  snipe, 
and  the  flap  of  a  duck's  wing  on  the  water,  is 
the  insistent  purring  of  dynamos  in  this  ready- 
made  hghtning  factory. 

What  a  flamboyant,  megaphone-gifted,  ubiquitous 
something  that  never  was,  and  never  will  be,  but  al- 
ways is,  is  this  creature  To-day!  How  one  would 
like  one  of  those  old-fashioned  Yesterdays,  for  a  bit 
of  vacationing,  the  days  of  lavender  scents  and  can- 
dle-dips, and  pitch-lmots  ablaze  on  the  wxle  hearth, 
with  the  weird  tale  or  two  out  of  the  New  England 
Nights'  Entertainments,  washed  down  with  a  mug  of 
foam'ng spruce  beer,  to  take  the  "current  hterature  " 
taste  out  of  one's  mouth! 

But  here,  looking  out  upon  the  waters  of  Chami- 
cey's  Creek  is  a  modern  shore  cottage  of  attractive 
and  ambitious  architecture,  that  as  one  gets  a  glimpse 
of  it  through  the  trees  might  be  taken  for  the  House 
of  the  Seven  Gables.  It  may  have  more  gables  than 
that,  for  aught  I  know,  I  never  counted  them;  but 


272 


OLD   YORK 


it  has  more  than  a  passing  interest  attached  to  it,  for, 
here  is  the  site  of  the  manse  where  Francis  Champer- 
nowTie  Uved  mostly.  It  is  on  the  point  of  land  made 
by  the  coming  together  of  Chauncey's  Creek  and 
Deering's  Guzzle.    This  creek  was  once  known  as 


'^.     J 


r 


SITE    OF    CHAMPERNOWNE'S    HOUSE 


Champernowne's.     It  had  been  better  had  it  kept  its 
first  name. 

If  one  is  to  keep  even  pace  with  Champernowne, 
one  should  go  hence,  eastward,  as  far  as  Brave-boat 
Harbor,  then  retrace  his  steps  leisurely.  The 
stranger  in  these  parts  would  naturally  look  for  sign- 
boards to  indicate  the  way;  the  roads  precede  the 
waymark,  usually.  Suppose  we  try  to  discover  the 
road. 


OLD   YORK  273 

"To  the  Select  Men  of  the  Town  of  Kittery. 

Gent^".  —  Whereas  therenever  was  yet  any  High 
way  Laid  out  from  Champernoons  Island  so-called 
I  therefore  desire  yould  lay  out  a  Road  for  y<^  Benefit 
of  y*'  Inhabitants  thereof  (from  A  Bridge  that  Joyns 
on  y*^  Man)  from  the  North  end  of  s'^  Bridge  to  York 
High  Road  that  leads  to  Kittery  Point,  and  youl 
oblige  Your  Hum'  Serv*^ 

Tim°  Gerrish. 

"By  the  Request  of  Co''  Tim°  Gerrish  Esq'. 

We  the  Subscribers  being  appomted  by  the  Rest 
of  the  Selectmen  of  y*^  town  of  Kittery  we  have  laid 
out  a  heigh  way  from  York  heigh  Road  that  leads  to 
Kittery  Piont  South  two  Rods  wide  to  be  left  open 
at  the  North  end  of  Co"  Gerrish's  Bridge  that  is  now 
standing  over  the  Creek  for  the  benefit  of  y^  Inhabi- 
tants thereof  that  is  to  say  two  Rods  wide  one  Rod 
out  of  Mr.  Cln-istopher  Mitchells  Land  and  one 
Rod  out  of  y^  Land  on  y''  west  which  Land  is  now 
in  possession  of  Mr.  Sam  Ford  by  Consent  of  both 
partys  they  being  present  the  Road  to  go  as  it  now 
lays  open  between  them. 
Kittery,  March  2  1737 

Thomas  Hutcliings,  Select 
Rich  Cutt  J'  men 

Highway  laid  to  Co"  Gerrishes  Island  1738." 

Here  is  the  road  we  are  to  follow,  if  we  keep  the 
footprints  of  Champernowne  in  sight.  There  had 
long  been  a  bridlepath  or  trail,  as  these  old  settlers 
always  took  the  most  direct  course,  whether  over  a 


274  OLD   YORK 

steep  hill,  or  through  a  swamp  wliich  had  to  be  cor- 
duroyed to  make  it  passable.  Up  hill  or  down,  it 
mattered  not,  so  that  folk  kept  to  their  direction, 
but  the  Kittery  Point  roads  must  have  been  laid  out 
by  the  convivial  friends  of  tapster  Bray  after  an 
evenmg  of  story-telling  at  the  inn,  as  they  wended 
their  ways,  with  something  of  dubious  footfall,  home- 
ward.     They  are  as  crooked  as  a  Boston  cowpath. 

But  these  early  footprints  of  the  settler  were 
always  by  the  sea.  Perhaps  it  was  because  the 
settler  had  been  used  to  the  sight  of  the  salt  water, 
and  the  vigorous  savor  of  its  briny  winds.  Did 
you  ever  go  through  a  long,  a  seeming  interminably 
endless  stretch  of  wilderness,  to  come  out  into  the 
"open"  among  the  fields;  and  do  you  recollect  what 
a  delightful  sensation  of  freedom  swept  over  you 
from  head  to  foot,  and  how  restful  the  shag  of  the 
hills  was  to  the  pent  vision  of  a  verdurous  woodland 
lane?  Did  the  sky  seem  ever  so  near,  or  so  dear,  with 
its  brooding  peace  and  promise?  And  the  speech 
of  that  famihar  landmark  over  there,  across  the 
valley,  the  lone  pine  on  the  Mil  that  marks  the  liidden 
home  slopes,  were  ever  the  words  of  a  friend  sweeter? 

I  expect  that  was  what  the  sea  and  the  open  lands 
along  shore  meant  to  the  settler.  The  water  was  his 
larder,  his  fish  and  game  preserve,  and  the  winds 
were  to  him  the  one-eyed  Calendar's  metal  boatman, 
and  they  carried  him  whichever  way  he  trimmed 
liis  sails.  So  these  old  roads  kept  the  sea,  or  a  bit  of 
yellow  marsh,  in  sight ;  with  here  and  there  a  head- 
land as  a  relief  to  the  eye,  or  an  outlook. 


OLD   YORK  275 

The  approach  to  luttery  from  York  Harbor  is 
more  interestmg  than  from  the  Junction;  and  a  foot 
jaimt  through  the  by-phices  of  Champernowne's 
Island,  now  yclept  Cutts',  and  across  the  head  of 
Chaimcey's  Creek,  and  westward,  along  shore  into 
the  Enchanted  Country  of  Deering's  Guzzle  and 
Warehouse  Point  is  at  once  cheering  and  restful. 

One's  starting-point  is  the  old  bridge  over  York 
River,  and  Major  Samuel  Sewall  of  old  York  could 
have  left  no  better  memorial  of  himself  than  this 
first  framework  of  piles  set  in  the  black  mud  of  the 
Brave-boat  Harbor  flats.  It  was  built  in  1761,  a 
hundred  and  tliirty  years  after  the  first  settlement 
of  the  "Ancient  Plantations,"  and  wliich  was  the 
model,  as  Drake  says,  "of  those  subsequently  built 
over  the  Charles,  Mystic  and  Merrimac."  The  super- 
structure was  set  up  and  afterward  floated  into  place, 
and  the  supports  were  firmly  impaled  in  the  river 
bottom.  And  SewalFs  old  bridge  is  here  to-day, 
after  a  service  of  almost  a  centmy  and  a  half.  At 
the  first  footfall  on  tliis  old  span  the  visions  begin 
to  crowd  in  upon  one's  mind!  It  is  as  if  one  were 
threacUng  the  deserted  streets  of  a  city  in  the  dead 
of  night,  when  the  answering  echoes  to  one's  stac- 
cato footfall  become  the  fighter  tread  of  its  familiars 
of  the  gairish  day,  and  the  bricks  are  crowded  to  the 
curb  with  the  ghosts  of  a  hurrying,  jostling  hmnan- 
ity  —  as  if  one  were  ever  alone ! 

It  is  vibrant  somid,  this  footfall  of  to-day  across 
tliis  remnant  of  yesterday;  and  with  it  comes  the 
sliivery,   psychological   sensing  of  a  numerous    yet 


276  OLD  YORK 

invisible  company  of  quaintly-garbed  people,  whose 
steps  keep  pace  wdth  my  own.  One's  ear-drums  are 
tremulous  with  the  somids  of  that  ancient  yesterday; 
and  the  mind  is  alert  to  this  astral  companionship 
that  comes  unbidden — an  old-fashioned  folk,  whose 
grosser  selves  were  long  since  absorbed  in  the  mute 
caress  of  the  Antsean  mother. 

Here  is  the  easterly  boimdary  of  Kittery,  where 
the  tide  makes  up  along  an  exceedingly  picturesque 
shore,  and  wliich  affords  a  pleasant  introduction  to 
the  charms  of  lottery's  varied  landscape  and  the 
storied  landmarks  that  fasten  one's  attention  at 
almost  every  turn  of  the  road.  From  York  Harbor 
westward  down  the  Point  is  suggestive.  One's 
thoughts  stray  unwittingly  from  the  present.  One 
reads,  Indian-Hke,  the  ground  at  his  feet,  to  find 
strange  and  unfamihar  footprints.  They  were  left 
here,  the  oldest  of  them,  as  early  as  1623,  since  which 
time  the  path  has  been  beaten  out  smooth.  Here 
were  the  stamping-grounds  of  the  rude  forefathers, 
the  peasantry  who  made  all  things  possible  for  their 
posterity.  What  stories  of  the  rough  needs  of  those 
days  are  told  by  the  cumbersome  things  that  made 
up  the  furnisliings  of  their  interiors  !  Mahogany  was 
plenty  in  those  days,  and  the  real  thing  was  the  only 
tiling,  whether  it  grew  in  the  back  lot,  or  came  in 
the  old  Anglesea  from  the  Barbadoes.  Their  colors 
were  as  real  as  the  woods  they  filled.  Red,  yellow, 
black,  and  white,  completed  the  gamut.  Barbizon 
Millet  could  have  done  sometliing  even  with  that 
limited  palette,  and  what  a  pity  there  was  no  Millet 


OLD    YORK  277 

of  those  clays  to  have  preserved  a  few  Hodges  at  their 
toil  afield,  with  their  ironboimd  ploughs  and  clumsy 
implements  by  which  these  new  lands  were  made 
to  bestow  their  riches  as  the  meed  of  tliis  strenuous 
pioneer  hving! 

They  must  have  been  of  Herculean  strength  to 
have  manipulated  the  tools  of  the  time.  I  have  an 
ancient  snath  and  scythe  that  was  in  use  as  late  as  a 
century  ago;  and  how  any  profitable  labor  could  be 
accomphshed  with  it,  is  wholly  a  matter  of  conjec- 
ture. In  its  time  it  was,  imdoubtedly,  the  best  at 
hand  — rude,  crude,  and  unwieldy,  to  make  one 
think  of  huge  settles  and  high-posted  bedsteads, 
of  long,  stout-armed  cranes  that  spanned  the  wide 
throat  of  the  family  fireplace,  of  dingy  pot-hooks, 
and  skillets  with  swivelled  bales  and  wide-mouthed 
tin  ovens,  and  spits  that  went  with  a  crank.  It  was 
the  iron  age  hereabout,  and  men  were,  perforce,  fire- 
worshippers.  It  did  not  do  to  let  fire  get  out  on  the 
hearth;  for  to  borrow  Uve  coals  from  a  neighbor 
was  much  more  easy  than  to  transport  them  hence. 

The  gentry  comprised  a  limited  few,  and  large 
accretions  of  wealth  were  at  the  disposal  of  but  few. 
The  luxuries  of  Hfe  were  commonplace  in  many 
respects.  Travel  was  an  arduous  and  slow  enter- 
tainment, even  to  those  who  had  the  leisure  for  such 
diversion,  and  hamlets  were  far  apart.  The  en\dron- 
ment  was  exceeding  narrow;  social  amenities  were 
practised  mostly  by  those  who  affected  the  better 
manners  of  the  times.  The  general  demeanor  was 
staid,  and  such  as  held  provincial   office  exacted  a 


278  OLD   YORK 

deference  that  nowadays  would  afford  prolific  inspi- 
ration for  the  cartoonist.  Personal  liberty  was 
cramped;  everybody  was  bitted,  and  not  a  few  sad- 
dled; the  right  of  way  was  hereditary,  and  education 
bushed  it  out,  carried  the  wliip,  and  held  the  reins. 
Precedent  was  good  law,  and  was  seldom  called  to  a 
halt. 

The  superstitions  that  made  the  Salem  trials  a 
possibility  were  a  good  barometer  of  the  intellectual 
capacity  of  the  average  mind,  wliich  was  cloudy  most 
of  the  time,  and  indicated  doubtful  weather.  They 
were  the  days  when  Toppan  wrote  to  Cotton  Mather 
of  a  double-headed  snake  at  Newbury  —  a  curious 
reptile  that  had  one  head  where  a  head  ought  to  be, 
while  the  other  wagged  where  its  tail  should  have 

been. 

"Far  and  wide  the  tale  was  told, 
Like  a  snowball  growing  while  it  rolled. 
The  nurse  hushed  with  it  the  baby's  cry; 
It  served  in  the  worthy  minister's  eye 
To  paint  the  primitive  serpent  by. 
Cotton  ]\Iather  came  galloping  down 
All  the  way  to  Newbury  town, 
With  his  eyes  agog  and  his  ears  set  wide, 
And  his  marvellous  inlv-horn  by  his  side; 
Stirring  the  while  the  shallow  pool 
Of  his  brains  for  the  lore  he  learned  at  school, 
To  garnish  the  story,  with  here  a  streak 
Of  Latin,  and  there  another  of  Greek; 
And  the  tales  he  heard  and  the  notes  he  took  — " 

And  such  was  the  atmosphere,  mentally,  and  other- 
wise, and  naturally  productive  of  the  peculiar  char- 
acteristics that  endowed  whatever  these  people  did 


OLD    YORK  279 

with  that  quaintness  that  stamped  everything  ^^ith 
a  hall-mark  that  did  not  admit  of  infringement. 
They  were  the  times  when  the  timorous  goodman 

"Nailed  a  horseshoe  on  the  outer  door, 
Lest  some  unseemly  hag  should  fit 
His  own  mouth  with  her  bridle-bit," 

and  the  housewife's  churn  refused, 

"Its  wonted  culinary  uses 
Until  with  heated   needle   burned, 
The  witch  had  to  her  place  returned." 

Strange  and  soul-troubhng  vagaries,  these! 
TMs  ancient  road  that  runs  the  length  of  luttery 
Point,  the  gray,  worn  roofs  of  a  schoolless  architec- 
ture, strewn  like  pearls  along  its  marge  at  uncertain 
intervals,  and  the  quaint  and  humble  doings  of  those 
who  made  their  exits  and  their  entrances  over  their 
like  worn  and  sagging  thresholds,   have  had  their 
translations  at  the  hands  of  annalists  like  Purchas 
and  Palfrey  and  their  ilk;  but  as  one  goes,  one  scans 
the  story  in  the  original,  and  translates  for  himself 
as  freely  as  the  scope  of  his  imagination  will  allow. 
As  to  many  tilings,  one  sees  darkly,  as  through  a 
glass,  and  longs  for  the  Mormon's   goggles.     As  to 
others,  Time  has  set  a  wall   as  impassable  as  that  of 
Al  Araf,  but  over  which  one  may  look  into  the  De- 
batable  Land,    and   that  only.     But  of  many  other 
tilings  replete  with   fascinating  charm,  he  who  can 
read,  may. 

Geograpliically,  here  is  the  southernmost  limit  of 


280  OLD   YORK 

Maine,  if  one  excepts  that  portion  of  the  Isles  of 
Shoals  of  wliich  Smutty  Nose  and  breezy  Appledore, 
Duck,  and  Cedar  Islands  are  a  part.  The  hne  of 
demarcation  follows  the  main  channel  of  the  Piscata- 
qua  River,  leaving  Great  Island,  Star,  Wliite,  and 
Londoner's  Islands  to  the  south.  Here  is  the  begin- 
ning of  Maine's  varied  and  romantic  coast.  From 
the  Pepperrell  manse  to, 

"gray  Fort  Mary's  walls," 

past  the  cabin  smoke  of  Cleeve,  and  still  on,  leaving 
beliind  the  stone  heaps  of  Pemaquid,  until  one  hears 
the  flap  of  Castine's  wigwam  door,  still  past  the 
smoldng  embers  of  St.  Saviour's  Mission  to  the  land 
of  Evangeline,  is  the  Thule  of  the  painter,  the  tourist, 
and  the  summer  dawdler,  and  which  has  its  eastern 
limit  at  West  Quoddy  Head;  or,  if  one  makes  the  turn 
of  the  granite  nose  of  this  headland,  he  may  keep  on 
up  the  St.  Croix  to  Devil's  Head,  over  a  reach  of  water 
rich  in  liistoric  lore,  and  where  one  may  find  many 
a  stirring  romance  written  in  the  uneven  Unes  of 
its  sinuous  shores.  The  entire  Maine  coast  trend  is 
a  storehouse  of  surprise  to  the  lover  of  the  pictur- 
esque. 

From  Kittery  to  Devil's  Head  are  nubbles  and 
headlands  of  buttressed  rock  frescoed  with  brilliant 
oxides,  the  reds  and  yellows  of  igneous  ingots  from 
the  smelters  of  preliistoric  ages;  the  soft  shimmer  of 
the  softer  shales;  the  gUttering  lustres  of  the  micas; 
or  the  gray  gloom  of  the  massive  granites,  their  feet 
sandalled  in  the  emerald  of  the  sea,  or  snooded  with 


OLD   YORK  281 

bands  of  dusky  kelp  and  devil's  apron  that  undulate 
with  the  tide  like  the  sinuous  spine  of  some  sea  mon- 
ster. It  is  a  panorama  of  Nature,  wonderfully  and  im- 
pressively beautiful. 

Where  in  the  world  is  another  Frenchman's  Bay 
or  another  Mount  Desert !  Here  is  the  Mediterranean 
of  the  western  hemisphere.  It  is  a  Riviera,  only 
that  for  solid  Italian  dirt  under  one's  feet  one  has  the 
limpid  waters  of  the  famous  Penobscot. 

Alw^ays  witliin  the  range  of  the  vision  are  the  hooded 
capes  dyed  with  the  deeper  emerald  of  the  ocean, 
that  seaward  shows  a  limitless  horizon.  Here  and 
there  the  trees  have  been  combed  and  sculptured 
and  twisted  into  fantastic  shapes  by  the  vagrant 
winds,  or  buffeted  into  stark  nudity  by  the  bleak 
storms  that  swoop  dowai  from  the  northeast.  Sleep- 
distilling,  pine-laden  odors  are  coaxed  offshore  by 
zephyrs  that  steal  with  noiseless  footfall  across  the 
golden  floors  of  the  wide  salt  marshes,  or  that,  with 
more  hurried  pace,  weave  them  into  webs  of  riant 
color.  Deep  bays  break  the  seemingly  endless  con- 
tour of  these  rugged  lines  with  spacious  anchorages 
that  could  take  at  a  single  gulp  the  navies  of  the  world, 
almost;  and  here  are  hosts  of  inlets  and  creeks  that 
make  inlayings  of  silver  inland,  and  that  lie  most  of 
the  time  fast  asleep  in  the  sun  after  a  vagabondish 
fasliion,  and  wiiere  even  the  wildest  gales  beget 
hardly  more  animation  than  the  gray  rifle  of  broken 
waters. 

As  one  looks  out  over  this  feast  of  Nature,  the  heart 
breaks  into  song  as  one  sees  — 


282  OLD   YORK 

"the  mighty  deep  expand 
From  its  white  hne  of  gUmmering  sand 
To  where  the  blue  of  heaven  on  bluer  waves  shuts  down;  " 

and  with  tliis  heart  melody  comes  the  deeper  tone 
from  the  huge  organ  loft  of  the  sky,  while, 

"in  foam   and   spray  wave  after  wave 
Breaks  on  the  rocks  which,  stern  and  gray, 
Shoulder  the  broken  tide  away, 
Or  murmur  hoarse  and  strong  through  mossy  cleft  and  cave." 

No  wonder  men  set  up  their  easels  along  these  ribs 
of  sun-bleached  sands  to  catch 

"The  tremulous  shadow  of  the  sea,"  — 

but  the  transcription  of  their  mysteries  and  their  in- 
terpretations are  beyond  the  puny  effort  of  the  most 
gifted  pen  or  brush,  and  imequalled  by  any  other  coast 
line  of  similar  extent  anywhere. 

Had  the  Mayflower  followed  the  track  of  Pring,  and 
once  bathed  her  face  in  the  brine  of  the  Piscataqua, 
or  even  the  whirlpools  of  Hell-gate,  the  history  of 
New  England  would  have  read  differently.  But  that 
was  not  to  be ;  yet  it  is  not  to  be  doubted,  had  the  folk 
from  Leyden  made  their  land-fall  here,  the  council 
of  Plymouth  would  have  given  priority  to  their  occu- 
pation, and  the  grant  to  Gorges  and  Mason,  in  1622, 
would  have  been  somewhat  restricted.  Ettery 
would  have  retained  the  name  given  to  York  origin- 
ally;  here  would  have  been  another  Manhattan.  For 
the  shahows  of  the  classic  Charles  and  the  mud  of  the 
Mystic  would  have  been  the  deeps  of  the  New  Hamp- 
shire estuary,  with  its  miles  of  frontage  by  stream  and 


OLD    YORK  283 

by  sea,  and  which  the  government  experts  were  not 
slow  to  take  advantage  of  for  the  building  of  a  fighting 
marine.  Here  is  one  of  the  most  available  navy 
yards  on  the  United  States  coast.  Famous  ships 
have  been  built  here  at  the  old  Puddington  Island. 
At  Withers'  Island,  the  Ranger,  of  Paul  Jones  fame, 
and  the  frigate,  America,  seventy-four  guns,  presented 
in  1782  to  France,  were  built  and  fitted  out.  Here 
were  laid  the  keels  of  the  old  Alabama,  the  Santee, 
the  Co?i(/re.ss,  afterward  rammed  at  Hampton  Roads 
by  the  Merrimac,  the  Franklin,  and  the  illustrious 
Kearsarge.  Since  the  steel  battlesliip  has  come  in, 
tliis  famous  old  yard  has  been  simply  a  repair  shop 
and  a  hospital  for  the  senile  Constitution  of  glorious 
memory.  A  new  dry  dock  is  building  here,  wdiich, 
when  completed  udll  be  sufficiently  ample  to  take  the 
largest  vessels  afloat.  What  a  berth  tliis  would  have 
been  for  the  commerce  of  New  England's  metropohs! 
and  Bunker  Hill  Monument  would  midoubtedly  have 
towered  above  the  ruins  of  Fort  M'Clary.  The  coast 
of  Maine  abounds  in  magnificent  harbors, 

Jocelyn  speaks  of  Kittery  in  his  time  as  "the 
most  populous  of  all  the  plantations  in  the  Maine 
Province." 

Drake  rightly  says,  "this  Island  of  Champer- 
nowne's  is  one  of  the  headlands  of  history."  The 
tides  of  Bra'boat  Harbor  lap  its  northeastern  edge, 
and  Chauncey's  Creek  on  the  northwest  fends  it 
from  the  ma:"nland;  and  here  was  the  grant  of  Gorges 
to  Arthur  Champernowne,  December  12,  1636.  It 
was  estimated  to  contain  five  hundred  acres,  and  was 


284  OLD    YORK 

designated  as  Dart'ngton  in  the  grant.    That  was 
the  name  of  the  English  manor  of  Champernowne's. 
Northeast  of  Bra'boat  Harbor  was  another  grant  of 
the  same  date.    This  was  in  York,  and  was  yclept 
Godmorrocke.    These   wide   acres   came   to   Arthur 
Champernowne's  son,  Francis,  by  inheritance.     The 
Champernownes  were  an  Enghsh  family  of    aristo- 
cratic I'neage.     Yomig  Champernowne  was  a  cousin 
of   Sir  Ferdinando  Gorges;  and  it  is  hkely  it  was  in 
that  way  the  former  became  interested  in  the  devel- 
opment of  the  Gorges  and  Mason  province.     He  had 
distinguished  himself  in  the  English  navy  as  a  cap- 
tain; and  he  is  located  at  Greenland  in  New  Hamp- 
shire in  1640,  where  he  had  a  considerable  estate. 
He  came  to  Kittery  about  1657,  and  built  liis  first 
house  on  his  island  in  the  vicinity  of  York  River.     In 
1665  he  bought  three  hundred  acres  on  the  mainland 
of  John  Archdale,   "between   the  land  of  Thomas 
Crockett    &    an   house    formerly    the     Sayd     Capt. 
Champernownes."     Tliis  was  October  20;  and  July 
17,  the  next  year,  the  to\\Ti  of  Kittery  granted  Mm 
five  hundred  acres  "adiojneing  to  the  house  where 
Capt.  Lockwood  now  Uveth.     Neare  the  lower  end 
of  the  Town  by  the  water  side,  that  runneth  towards 
Braue  boat  Harbour."     The  grant  was  "to  begin 
next   Major   Shapleigh's    land,   &   not    two    much 
breath  by  the  water  side,  to  the  Preiudice  of  the 
Inhabitants  toward  Braue  Boate  Harbour."     Stack- 
pole  says  ChampernowTie  had  two  houses.     He  lo- 
cates one  at  the  eastern  end  of  the  island,  the  original 
site  of  wliich,  Stackpole  says,  is  occupied  by  the 


OLD   YORK  285 

John  Thaxter  residence.  It  is  a  sightly  place,  and  is 
part  and  parcel  of  the  fashion  in  the  old  days,  to  plant 
the  roof-tree  where  it  would  have  an  abundant  sea- 
way; but  to  my  mind  the  outlook  from  the  "lower 
house"  was  by  far  the  finest.  Here  one  gets  a  wide 
view  from  the  mouth  of  Chauncey's  Creek  where 
Deering's  Guzzle  comes  in,  and  here  is  the  old  well 
that  undoubtedly  supplied  the  Champernowne  house- 
hold. The  wide  mouth  of  the  Piscataqua  is  before 
one,  with  its  low-lying  ribs  of  "sland  verdure  studding 
the  restless  waters,  and  along  shore  are  slender 
scarps  from  the  mainland  reaching  out  toward  them 
like  so  many  fingers  of  a  huge  hand,  that  lengthen 
with  the  ebb  of  the  tide,  or  shorten  as  it  makes  to 
its  flood.  Here  is  an  abundance  of  form  and  color, 
as  if  Nature  began  her  labors  here  when  she  was 
possessed  of  a  plethora  of  good  things  and  had  no 
mind  to  stint  her  work. 

In  1648  Champernowne  sold  this  estate  to  one 
Walter  Barefoot,  and  thus  he  parted  with  h's  main- 
land property.  The  eastern  end  of  the  'sland  came 
finally  into  the  hands  of  Richard  Cutt,  s'nce  which 
time  the  island  has  taken  the  latter's  name.  The 
mainland  estate  in  1661  was  conveyed  by  Barefoot 
to  one  Harbert,  since  which  time  it  has  been  the  sub- 
ject of  numerous  conveyances.  If  one  likes  to  look 
out  upon  the  picture  from  Champernowne 's  original 
point  of  view,  anywhere  about  the  Keene  cottage 
will  answer  the  purpose;  for  it  was  in  th's  immediate 
vicinity  that  not  many  years  ago  could  have  been 
seen  the  sight  depression  that  marked  the  location 


286 


OLD   YORK 


of  this  "lower  house."  He  laid  down  his  life  work 
in  1687,  at  the  ripe  age  of  seventy-three;  but  shortly 
before  that,  he  took  unto  himself  the  widow  of  Rob- 


CHAMPERNOWNE'S    GRAVE 


ert  Cutt.     Unfortunately,  h's  good  old  English  name 
died  with  him,  for  he  died  childless. 

That  he  left  no  posterity  is  greatly  to  be  regret- 
ted, having  in  mind  hs  wealth  and  social  station  in 
wh'ch  he  outranked  his  contemporaries  at  Kittery. 
Pearce's  Neck  once  belonged  to  this  man,  but  a  con- 
veyance to  Jolin  Pearce  of  Noodle's  Island  gave  way 


OLD   YORK  287 

to  another  apology  for  the  further  obUteration  of  the 
Champernowne  name.  No  part  of  modern  K  ttery 
is  known  or  distinguished  by  this  p'.oneer  among  its 
early  people,  except  a  rough  p'le  of  rock,  a  rude  ca'rn, 
which  is  shown  to  the  curious,  as  Champernowne 's 
grave.  It  is  a  bit  east  of  the  s'te  of  h:s  old  home,  and 
is  enclosed  by  a  like  rude  wall  of  stone  gleaned  from 
the  rocky  slopes  of  Cutt's  Island.  Nature  has  written 
his  epitaph  with  kindly  hands  in  the  multi-colored 
lichens  that  have  found  lodgment  on  the  rough  faces 
of  these  fragments  of  rock;  and  overhead,  the  foliage 
of  the  birches  wave  their  pliant  arms  with  every 
breeze  in  delicate  obeisance  to  his  indifferently  cher- 
ished memory.  Local  pride,  it  seems  to  me,  should 
lend  some  stimulus  to  the  proper  recognition  of  his 
name  and  his  old-time  connection  with  the  laying 
of  the  Kittery  corner-stone. 

This  getting  beneath  the  surface  of  current  events, 
to  touch  elbows,  as  it  were,  with  the  things  that  were 
in  days  when  others  made  the  conveniences  of  the 
present  possible,  the  quaint  things  the  like  of  which 
have  passed  from  the  memory  of  man  in  their  actual- 
ity, may  not  be  so  interesting  to  the  world  at  large 
as  the  excavations  of  Pompeii  and  Cyprus,  or  their 
brilliant  frescoes  and  licentious  mural  decorations; 
but  they  are  of  far  richer  fruitage,  if  one  goes  by  the 
amount  of  pleasure  gained.  To  get  any  good  from 
anything,  one  must  use  the  mental  pick-axe  and  shovel ; 
and  a  few  days  among  these  old  by-ways  gives  one 
a  longer  lease  of  life,  a  better  digestion,  and  a  larger 
fund  of  self-respect,  and  withal,  a  HveUer  patriotism. 


288  OLD   YORK 

In  leaving  Champernowne,  perhaps  it  might  be  in- 
teresting to  quote  a  Hne  from  the  Massachusetts  ar- 
chives. In  these  eastern  settlements,  as  the  fight 
grew  more  acrid  between  the  Puritan  and  the  Royal- 
ist, the  political  interests  of  Massachusetts  Bay  col- 
ony and  the  settlements  east  of  the  Piscataqua  be- 
came more  sharply  defined.  The  commissioners  of 
Massachusetts  were  astute  politicians,  as  were  the 
men  behind  them;  and  what  to  them  were  the  Au- 
gean stables,  were  cleaned  out  in  July,  1668.  Among 
these,  were: 

"Henry  Josslin  Esq'  of  good  parts  &  conuersation 
well-beloved  of  the  inhabitants  and  allways  A  uindi- 
cator  of  Engly  Government  both  cuill  &  Eclesiati- 
call  liueing  at  Black  Point. 

"  Capt.  Champernowne  of  Piscataqua  a  man  allways 
for  the  King,  and  was  Comd*"  at  sea  in  the  same  sliip 
under  the  Lord  of  Marlborough  many  years  agoe." 

Among  others  of  the  proscribed,  appear  the  names 
of  Francis  Hooke,  Robert  Cutt,  Capt.  Wincall  of 
Piscataqua  and  "M""  Edward  Rishworth,  both  men 
without  Schandall  in  Reference  to  Life  &  Conuersa- 
tion &  now  are  associates  for  Boston  which  is  a  Small 
majestraticall  Power  they  haue." 

Banks,  in  a  note  to  the  extract  from  wliich  the 
above  is  quoted,  says,  "Tliis  paper  was  undoubtedly 
prepared  as  a  sort  of  private  memorandum  by  Ed- 
ward Randolph,  about  1680,  for  his  own  use  and  for 
the  information  of  his  political  friends  in  England." 

Quoting  somewhat  farther  from  tliis  paper  of  Ran- 
dolph's, he  says,  — 


OLD   YORK  289 

"  Men  that  are  Enimies  to  m  Gorges  interest,  lining 
In  the  Prouince  of  Mayne : 

"Major  Bryan  Pembleton  (Pendleton):  A  man  of 
Saco  Riuer  of  Great  estate  &  uery  independent,  be- 
loued  only  of  those  of  his  fraternity  being  both  an 
Enemy  to  the  King's  interest  &  M"  Gorges  Interest, 
all  so  a  great  Ringleader  to  others  to  utmost  of  his 
Power. 

"Capt  Raines  of  York'',  M^  Neale  of  Casco  Bay, 
Arthur  Auger  of  Black  Poynt,  Andrew  Brown  of 
Black  Poynt,  Francis  Littlefield  of  Wells,  Henry  Saw- 
yer of  Yorke,  Peter  Wyer,  (Weare)  of  Yorke,  — 
these  are  men  of  indifferent  Estate  &  are  led  by  Maj'' 
Pembleton  &  of  the  same  independent  way  of  under- 
standing Httle  but  what  he  tells  them  in  Law  or  gos- 
pell." 

Edward  Rishworth  was  a  pohtician  of  the  first 
water.  He  managed  to  keep  in  good  trim  with  both 
sides  of  the  controversy.  His  "Apology"  shows  the 
sting  of  the  party  whip;  and  as  well  Rishworth's 
pUancy,  and  skill  as  a  political  tumbler.  Here  it  is, 
and  it  is  in  its  way  a  curiosity. 

"To  the  Hono^**  Generall   Court  now  assembled  at 
Boston. 

I  being  chozen  Deputy  by  the  majo'  part  of  the 
freemen  of  Yorke  to  attend  the  publique  service  of 
the  country  at  this  Gener'^  Court  vnto  whose  accep- 
tance I  stood  uncapable  through  some  affronte  which 
I  had  given  to  y**  same  for  whose  satisfaction  these 
may  satisfy  all  whom  It  may  Concerne,  that  through 


290  OLD   YORK 

fears  of  some  future  troubles,  &  want  of  Indemnity 
in  case  this  Hono""^  Court  had  not  relieved  in  tymes 
of  danger,  I  being  prsuaded  that  by  his  Majestys 
letter  I  was  discharged  from  my  oath,  taken  to  this 
authority,  I  did  accept  of  a  commission  before  apply- 
cation  to  the  same  w"^  in  I  do  acknowledg  I  did  act 
very  Imprudently,  &  hope  through  God's  assistance 
I  shall  not  do  the  like  agajne,  but  for  tyme  to  come 
shall  Indeauor  to  walke  more  cerumspectly  in  cases 
soe  momentous  craning  pardon  of  y""  honord  Court 
for  tliis  offence,  &  yo''  acceptance  of  this  acknowledg- 
ment of  your  unfayned  servant 

May:  12;  1670:  Edw:  Rishworth" 

Rishworth's  artless  explanation,  and  liis  saying  he 
would  try  to  be  very  good,  found  the  "Deputyes 
Judge"  in  a  complaisant  mood;  and  after  due  con- 
sideration, his  offence  was  remitted.  The  apology 
intimates  the  offence,  and,  as  a  case  of  discipline,  it 
proved  eminently  effectual.  As  a  sidelight  on  the 
exactions  of  the  primitive  machine  that  steered  the 
political  craft  of  Massachusetts  in  1670,  the  inference 
is  easy  that  its  stones  ground  exceeding  fine,  even  as 
they  do  in  these  latter  days.  There  was  no  trouble 
with  Rishworth  after  that.  The  winds  of  York  blew 
the  same  way  they  blew  in  Boston;  and  his 
weather-vane  was  as  delicately  adjusted  to  their  pos- 
sible variation  as  the  finest  chronometric  mechanism. 
It  is  not  recorded  that  he  ever  lost  step  with  the  Mas- 
sachusetts leaders  after  that,  and  honors  were  easy. 

But  in  these  days  just  anterior  to  the  war  of  the 


OLD   YORK  291 

Revolution,  as  well  as  wliile  its  issues  were  being  set- 
tled, Kittery  was  growing  in  size  and  importance; 
and  doubtless  there  were  no  inconsiderable  property 
interests  represented  within  its  borders.  It  must 
have  been  so,  for  it  is  apparent  that  there  was  a  sense 
of  insecurity  abroad.  The  following  from  the  Kittery 
records  would  suggest  as  much. 

"  To  the  Selectmen  of  the  Town  of  Kittery, 

We  the  Subscribers  being  Freeholders  and  Inhabi- 
tants of  said  Town  Request  you  to  Coll  a  meeting 
Imeediatly  of  the  Freeholders  &  Inhabitants  of  the 
Affores'^  Kittery  at  Such  Place  as  you  Shall  think 
best  then  &  there  for  S*^  Inhabitants  to  vot  Such  a 
Number  of  Sutabel  men  to  Keep  a  Watch  at  Kittery 
Point  &  other  Sutabel  Place  or  Places  As  they  Shall 
think  Proper  &  Said  Persons  to  be  paid  a  Reasonable 
Sum  by  the  To\\ti  as  no  Person  have  of  Late  Ap- 
peared to  keep  a  Watch  at  the  Afores*^  Point  we  think 
It  Extreemely  Dangerous  to  the  Inhabitants  of  this 
whole  Town  for  Said  Place  to  be  without  a  Gard  Es- 
pecialy  by  Night  and  to  Pase  any  Vote  or  Votes  Re- 
lating to  the  Premises  as  they  shall  think  fitt. 

Kittery,  June  3,  1775." 

This  petition  was  signed  by  William  De?ring  and 
seventeen  others. 

Going  back  fifty  years  over  these  records,  one  finds 
the  minutes  of  a  warrant  to  the  town  constable.  It 
reads  like  a  page  from  a  mediaeval  transcript,  and 
is  singularly    suggestive  of  the  ahnost    inquisitorial 


292 


OLD  YORK 


power  the  towns  of  those  days  assumed  over  the  indi- 
vidual who  had  incurred  something  of  local  disrepute. 
Compared  with  the  trend  of  opinion  as  to  the  scope 
of  personal  liberty  of  the  Now,  when  unions  and 
federations    of     workingmen     assume    to    stop    the 


THE  JOAN    DEERING    HOUSE 


wheels  even  of  the  commerce  that  brings  to  people 
the  necessities  of  hfe,  the  indications  are  that  one 
is  not  so  far  away  from  the  time  of  Peter  Matthews, 
only  the  stage  has  changed  managers;  and  for  the 
selectmen,  has  come  the  baton  of  the  federate  presi- 
dent or  an  irresponsible  district  deputy. 


OLD  YORK  293 

Suppose  you  look  over  this  old  record  with  me. 

"York  ss:  To  the  Constable  of  the  Town  of  Kit- 
tery,  Greeting: 

"  Whereas,  Complaint  is  made  to  us  y"  Subscribers 
By  Severall  of  the  Inhabitants  of  this  Town  that 
Peter  Matthews  of  York  is  come  to  Reside  in  this 
Town  of  Kittery  afors*^ 

''  You  are  hereby  Required  in  his  Maj^  Name  to  give 
Personall  notice  to  the  said  Peter  Matthews  that  he 
forthwith  Depart  this  Town  on  Penalty  of  Being 
Sent  out  as  the  Law  directs.  Hereof  fail  not  and 
make  due  Return  of  this  warrant  under  your  hand 
of  your  Doings  herein  unto  us  the  Subscribers  of 
Some  of  us  within  Seven  Days  after  the  Date  hereof. 
Dated  in  Kittery  y''  20th  Day  of  June,  1726." 

"  This  warrant  was  subscribed  by  the  five  selectmen 
of  Kittery,  of  whom  John  Dennett  was  the  chairman, 
and  the  constable  makes  his  return. 

"Pursuant  to  the  within  warrant  to  me  Directed, 
I  have  Given  Personal  Notice  to  y**  within  Named 
Peter  Matthews  to  Depart  this  Town. 

Samuel  Lebbey,  Constable." 

.     This  authority  was  vested  in  towns  under  the  law 
of  1693. 

Coming  down  these  records  to  May  10,  1734,  one 
finds  the  list  of  Quakers  who  were  allowed  to  reside 
in  Kittery,  that  year.  They  were  twenty-four  in 
number. 


294  OLD   YORK 

East  of  the  Piscataqua  the  temper  of  the  inhabi- 
tants toward  this  persecuted  sect  was  much  more 
passive  than  on  its  southern  side.    They  were  under 
a  mild  but  distinctive  surveillance;  or  in  other  words, 
they  were,  under  certain  conditions  of  behavior,  toler- 
ated.   They  were  not  allowed  to  hold  public  meet- 
ings, but  they  taught  their  doctrines  here  and  there, 
in  some  private  house,  where  they  were  in  a  way 
surreptitiously    entertained.         The    Massachusetts 
authorities   were   jealous   of   the   liberties   accorded 
this,   by   them,   proscribed   people;   but   hereabout, 
in  Kittery  and  its  sister  towns,  the  townspeople  were 
not  over-zealous  in  their  adhesion  to  the  Puritan  laws 
where  it  was  not  for  their  peculiar  benefit,  either  as 
incUviduals,  or  as  an  aggregate.     The  latitude  allowed 
alleged  witches  hereabout  is  notable,  as  compared 
with  the  Salem  folk.     Burroughs  was  complained  of 
at  Salem ;  and  I  think  it  is  safe  to  say,  had  it  been  left 
to  the  people  of  Wells  to  take  the  initiative,  the 
preacher   among   the  garrison  houses   of  Wells   and 
Scarborough  would  have  wrought  to  the  end  in  his 
own   way.     There   is   no   doubt   but   Massachusetts 
found  a  poor  soil  in  the  province  of  Maine  for  the 
growth  of  her  peculiar  religious  tenets. 

The  people  of  this  part  of  the  country  had  good 
memories.  Those  who  were  not  alive  to  tell  of  the 
indifference  of  the  Massachusetts  commissioners,  in 
1592,  to  the  welfare  and  safety  of  its  settlers,  when 
the  IncUans  began  their  raids  south  of  Falmouth,  had 
left  the  story  as  one  of  the  items  of  traditional  legacy, 
handed  down  with  every  re-telling  of  the  devilish 


OLD   YORK 


295 


and  savage  reprisals  of  those  dark  and  treacherous 
fourteen  years  that  preceded  the  Peace  of  Utrecht. 
If  the  truth  were  to  be  told,  it  was  a  case  of  the  "  devil 
take  the  hindermost."  Haverhill  was  nearer  Boston 
than  Wells,  and  the  Dimstan  tragedy,  with  five  hun- 
dred French  and  Indians  at   the   gate   of  Storer's 

i      > 


THE    WATER    SIDE   OF    FORT    M'CLARY 


Garrison  in  Wells,  less  than  a  hundred  miles  away,  was 
suggestive  of  the  possibility  that  these  Tarratine 
hornets  might  invade  the  gables  that  looked  out  over 
the  placid  waters  of  the  Mystic.  When  the  Peace 
of  Utrecht  came,  the  General  Court  assumed  its 
domination  over  this  ravaged  stretch  of  shore  from 
the  Piscataqua  eastward,  as  if  the  pestilent  hordes 
of  Castine  and  Madockawando  had  never  left  their 
Penobscot  lair.     They  who  had  kept  their  garrison 


296 


OLD   YORK 


houses,  and  had  sustained  hfe  through  those  days 
that  made  Scarborough  the  "bloody  ground"  in 
local  annals,  had  reason  to  remember  how  completely 
they  were  abandoned  to  their  own  resources  by  the 
Puritans  of  Boston.  In  the  years  after,  when  some- 
thing of  prosperity  had  re-vamped  the  footgear  of 
these  settlers,  it  is  not  singular  that  they  should 
resent  a  too  close  supervision  of  their  local  doings 
by  the  law-makers  of  Massachusetts   Bay,  because 


THE    SPARHAWK    MANSE 


these  same  perils  had  made  them  not  only  self- 
reliant  but  notably  independent.  Perhaps  it  was 
good  policy  to  let  these  imperilled  settlers  run  to  the 
best  cover  they  could  find,  but  to  my  mind  it  was 
the  quintessence  of  selfishness,  with  possibly  a  taint 
of  cowardice  —  a  harsh  analysis  of  events,  but 
Boston  was  human. 

It  is  with  reluctant  steps  one  turns  from  these  old 
haunts;  but  one  must  linger  a  moment  longer  to 


OLD   YORK  297 

saunter  up  the  lane  between  its  verdurous  maples  to 
the  ancient  lindens,  brought  from  England  by  Bar- 
onet Pepperrell  and  planted  here,  and  that  stand  guard 
over  the  wide  entrance  to  the  old  Sparhawk  Mansion, 
Cerberus-fashion.  These  are  huge  trees,  and  their 
age  is  not  doubtful.  Their  gnarled  bodies  suggest  the 
experience  of  those  who  knew  them  first.  Of  the 
turdy  Enghsh  type,  they  remind  one  of  the  pencils 
studies  of  the  English  masters.  They  are  essentially 
Enghsh  in  form,  tone  values,  and  effect.  I  speak  of 
these  things  because  I  see  them  and  I  enjoy  them, 
for  they  are  to  me  the  choicest  settings  in  which  these 
rehcs  could  be  framed;  and  they  who  hved  by  them 
for  years  saw  them  as  I  see  them,  only  with  a  larger 
affection,  because  they  were  more  closely  identified 
with  them  as  a  part  of  their  surroundings.  I  have 
no  doubt  but  all  the  young  folk  of  the  neighborhood 
had  kno\Mi  at  one  time  and  another  the  coolness  of 
their  grateful  shadows;  and  I  am  sure  the  Pepperrell 
uncles,  cousins,  and  aunts,  and  grandchildren,  and 
the  baronet,  as  well,  have  patted  these  huge  trimks 
when  they  were  smaller,  with  something  of  the  feeling 
that  here  was  some  genuine  British  fibre,  whose  juices 
were  chstilled  from  the  mother-land  itself. 

These  people  were  not  oblivious  to  the  poetry  of 
things,  the  things  of  Nature,  else  their  home  interiors 
would  have  shown  the  dull  edge  of  their  sense ;  but  it 
was  otherwise.  If  you  wish  for  the  aesthetic  in  its 
purity,  go  through  the  old  Sparhawk  manse,  and  if 
you  do  not  see  anything  else,  do  not  forget  the  Dutch 
tihng  of  the  broad  fireplace  in  the  roomy  hbrary,  —  a 


298  OLD    YORK 

single  touch  that  makes  the  world  aldn  are  those 
ancient  tiles  of  washed-out  blue. 

As  the  hall-mark  of  intellectuality,  an  excellent 
good  taste,  and  a  just  appreciation  of  the  true  and  the 
beautiful  in  art,  they  are  imimpeachable  testimony. 
Why  not  ?  Their  days  were  the  days  of  Sir  Peter 
Lely,  Huysman,  Vandevelde,  and  Vosterman;  their 
immediate  predecessors  were  Rubens  and  Vandyke. 

But  these  Hndens  were  set  somewhere  around  1742. 
That  was  the  year  that  Elizabeth  Pepperrell  married 
Capt.  Nathaniel  Sparhawk.  This  mansion  was  a 
wedding  gift,  and  so  must  date  from  about  that  time. 
Passing  between  these  massive  trees  one  is  at  the 
wide  entrance  to  the  house.  It  is  the  residence  of 
Hon.  Horace  Mitchell,  who  takes  goodly  pride  in  his 
possession,  wliich  is,  so  far  as  one  can  see,  exactly  as 
the  yomiger  Sparhawk  left  it  in  his  flight  to  England. 
That  it  has  been  so  well  kept  through  all  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  the  succeeding  one  hundred  and  sixty  years 
is  a  matter  of  congratulation;  for  here  is  one  of  the 
most  perfectly  appointed  mansions  of  its  time  to  be 
fomid  in  New  England.  Its  interior  is  of  finer  and 
more  elaborate  workmanship  than  either  the  old  Pep- 
perrell manse  or  the  Lady  Pepperrell  house.  The 
paper  on  its  hall  walls  is  the  same  brought  from  Lon- 
don at  the  time  of  its  building,  with  which  an  interest- 
ing story  is  connected.  But  this  story  has  a^.ready 
exceeded  its  limits. 

One  of  the  quaint  tilings  one  is  likely  to  notice  in 
the  wide  hall  is  the  lifelike  wooden  hawk,  hand- 
carved,  the  claws  of  which  hold  in  a  firm  grasp  a  like 


OLD    YORK  299 

carved  wooden  spar.  This  device  depends  from  an 
iron  rod  pendant  from  the  ceihng  over  the  newel-post. 
In  the  long  fore-room,  that  takes  the  whole  of  the 
eastern  gable,  is  a  wonderful  fireplace,  whose  wain- 
scoted mantel  reaches  to  the  high  ceiUng,  that  is 
flanked  on  either  side  by  ample  buffets  of  a  hand- 
carved  shell  pattern.  The  balustrade  in  the  hall  is 
identical  in  design  with  those  of  the  other  Pepperrell 
houses.  Here  are  some  of  the  canvases,  once  among 
the  Sparhawk  possessions,  stiU  on  the  walls;  and  they 
too  are  interesting.  In  fact,  the  mind  finds  much 
here  to  beget  reflection;  for,  as  one  lingers,  the  a'ert 
Now  is  forgotten  in  the  dreams  of  long-ago  Yester- 
days. 

But  all  things  have  an  end;  and  as  one's  stay  here- 
about is  in  a  degree  subject  to  mundane  influences 
and  necessities,  one  hails  the  first  passing  electric, 
and  with  a  parting  look  leaves  liis  Dreamland  to 
others. 

It  is  a  delightful  sojourn  one  makes  here,  whether 
it  be  long,  or  short;  and  the  memory  of  its  old  houses, 
its  sinuous  roads,  and  its  river,  and  the  hospitality 
extended  to  myself  will  l^e  cherished 

"So  long  as  Nature  shall  not  grow  old, 
Nor  drop  her  work  from  her  doting  hold.". 

No  lack  of  goodly  company  is  here  whether  one 
chats  with  mine  host  Mitchell  on  the  breezy  veranda 
of  the  Champernowne  awaiting  the  boom  of  the  sun- 
set gun  from  the  walls  of  the  fort  across  the  river, 
where  the  windows  of  olden  New  Castle  gleam  ruddily 


300 


OLD    YORK 


as  the  day  dies;  or  loses  himself  in  silent  reverie  as 
he  takes  his  sun-bath  under  the  lee  of  old  Cutts  wharf, 
for 

"he  who  drifts 
Is  one  with  him  who  rows  or  sails; 
And  he  who  wanders  widest  lifts 
No  more  of  beauty's  jealous  veils  " 

than  he  who  wanders  nearer  home. 


BACK-LOG  STORIES 


BACK-LOG   STORIES 

T  was  my  good  fortune,  when  a  young 
lad,  to  live  in  one  of  those  old-fash- 
ioned houses  affected  by  the  aris- 
tocracy in  the  early  eighteenth 
century.  Like  im  house  set  upon  a 
hill,  it  was  visible  for  many  miles 
aroimd;  and  its  ample  roof  was 
quaintly  suggestive  of  good  cheer 
and  the  material  comforts  of  life, 
after  the  manner  of  the  times  when 
roomy  fireplaces,  long,  low  and  wide 
hearthed,  were  capable  of  generous,  glowing  heats  and 
pregnant  hints  of  a hospitdity  that  is  now  among  the 

303 


304  OLD    YORK 

lost  arts.  There  were  four  spacious  rooms  below,  and 
a  like  number  above,  which  were  reached  by  a  straight 
flight  of  stairs,  pitched  at  a  most  comfortable  angle. 
On  their  outer  rim  or  edge  was  a  slender,  carved  hand- 
rail, which  was  upheld  by  pilasters,  delicately  propor- 
tioned, square,  and  hardly  larger  then  one's  finger. 
The  newel-post  was  of  the  same  sylph-like  design, 
and  the  long  hall  was  wainscoted  about  one  third  of 
the  way  to  the  ceiling  by  a  single  strip  of  finish  got 
out  in  the  days  when  the  pine-trees  were  huge,  knot- 
less,  and  sapless,  with  hearts  as  yellow  as  nuggets 
of  gold.  All  the  rooms  were  wainscoted  alike,  and 
in  each  room  was  a  fireplace  surmounted  by  a  hand- 
carved  mantel  so  narrow  as  to  make  one  think  of  the 
bridge  of  Al  Borak,  so  far  as  they  might  be  of  use. 
The  windows  were  wide,  and  the  shafts  of  light  which 
broke  through  them  were  broken  into  numerous  lesser 
shafts  as  they  fell  athwart  the  yellow-painted  floors. 

Over  all  spread  a  low  hip-roof,  topped  by  a  pair 
of  sturdy  cliimneys;  and  above  these  was  a  broidery 
of  foliage  through  the  summer  days  that  made  the 
drapery  of  the  huge,  wide-armed  elm  that  held  all  in 
its  coohng  shadow;  and  that,  when  the  wind  blew, 
sang  a  low-pitched  monody  to  the  liigh  treble  of 
the  orioles  whose  homes  hung  pendant  from  many 
a  slender  twig. 

In  the  living-room  was  the  largest  fireplace.  It 
was  huge  in  its  proportions,  so  large  that  a  cord- 
stick  would  find  ample  room  against  its  back  wall, 
and  a  wide  slab  of  rived  granite,  worn  smooth  by 
years  of  use,  afforded  an  ample  hearth.     It  was  here, 


OLD    YOBK  305 

before  this  black  maw  of  sooty  brick,  that  the  family 
gathered  as  the  shadows  of  the  winter  evenings  fell, 
when  the  firelight  flashed  brightly  athwart  the 
quaintly-patterned  paper  that  adorned  the  walls; 
and  it  was  here  that  all  the  neighborhood  happen- 
ings were  gone  over,  along  with  a  store  of  other  lore, 
in  which  hob-thrushes  and  Robin  Goodfellows  and 
other  spectral  marvels  played  uncanny  parts.  And 
not  least  among  these  back-log  tales  were  the  stories 
of  Indians  and  bears  and  catamounts,  stories  of  hunt- 
ing and  fishing,  and  of  the  early  clearings  and  their 
adventurous  experiences,  until  the  youthful  mind 
was  crowded  with  strange  pictures  and  its  owner 
was  fain  to  steal  up  the  creaking  stairs  to  bed  with 
his  heart  in  his  throat,  and  one  eye  cast  backward 
over  one  shoulder,  apprehensively,  and  each  indi- 
vidual hair  on  his  youthful  head  "on  end."  In  these 
days  of  bricked-up  fireplaces  and  departed  inspi- 
rations, one  has  to  go  to  the  printed  page;  for  the 
story-teller  of  the  fireside  has  gone  the  way  of  things 
that  were,  or  grown  dull  and  forgetful  and  of  sleepy 
wit,  and  the  neighbors  visit  but  infrequently. 

The  back-log  romancer  is  a  legend  and  a  tradition, 
and  hke  the  headlands  of  old-time  episode,  is  every 
year  buried  deeper  in  the  fogs  of  forgetfulness. 

Materiahsm  is  the  iconoclast  of  the  times. 

But  that  old  homestead,  recalled  as  one  recalls 
much  else,  that  like  an  old  worn  shpper,  fits  so  com- 
fortably into  the  mosaic  of  one's  experiences,  bears 
outward  semblance  in  small  degree  to  this  low- 
browed garrison  house  which  one  finds  here  at  Cape 


306 


OLD    YOBK 


Neddock.  Here  was  the  early  home  of  the  Mcln- 
tires,  and  its  fame  goes  back  to  and  beyond  the 
obhteration  of  old  Falmouth,  when  the  hordes  of 
Castine  swept  down  upon  it. 

It  is  one  of  the  two  remaining  in  York  to-day;  in 
1711  there  were  twenty-one.  This  old  Mclntire 
block  house  was  built  about  1640,  and  is  on  the  east- 


MclNTIRE    BLOCK    HOUSE 


erly  bank  of  York  River.  One  of  its  contemporaries , 
the  Junkins  garrison,  and  which  is  in  its  near  neigh- 
borhood, may  yet  be  seen,  but  in  a  dilapidated  con- 
dition. After  the  Indian  outbreaks,  which  began  as 
early  as  1676,  the  number  of  block  houses  increased 
so  that  York  was  well  supplied  with  these  houses 
of  refuge,  and  each  had  its  billet  of  settlers ;  nor  were 
they  over  large ;  and  at  such  times  as  the  long  tin 


OLD    YORK  307 

horn  sent  its  note  flying  across  country,  they  must 
have  found  their  individual  capacities  somewhat 
strained. 

It  is  difficult  for  one  to  convey  a  likeness  of  one  of 
these  old  forts,  for  the  eye  sees  only  the  shell  of  an  old 
house.  Timbers  hewn,  dove-tailed  and  tree-nailed, 
gave  it  a  redoubtable  massiveness.  The  seams  were 
calked  like  those  of  a  sliip,  loop-holes  were  cut  in  the 
sides  for  small-arms,  and  the  second  story  was  pro- 
vided with  an  overhang,  or  set-off,  and  in  the  floors 
of  this  projection,  which  followed  the  outer  wall 
around  the  building  completely,  openings  were  made 
for  offensive  as  well  as  defensive  piu"poses.  It  was  a 
favorite  trick  with  these  aborigines  to  push  carts  of 
straw  or  other  inflammable  matter  against  the  house 
of  the  settler,  and  in  such  a  case  from  these  projec- 
tions could  be  poured  water  to  extinguish  any  con- 
flagration possible.  In  the  second  story  was  a  loft, 
and  here  were  loopholes  from  which  a  watch  could  be 
kept.  And  it  was  to  such  places  the  women  and 
cliildren  fled  at  the  first  alarm. 

That  is  what  one  sees  with  the  outward  eye. 

But  there  are  other  things  here  that  have  the  hu- 
man touch.  The  cliimney-back  is  painted  with  soot 
stains,  and  the  walls  are  dyed  a  deep  sepia  by  the  un- 
ruly smokes,  and  there  is  a  smell  of  creosote,  sugges- 
tive of  advanced  age.  There  are  signs  of  decrepitude. 
The  windows  have  a  bleary  aspect.  The  roofs  are 
ragged  and  out  at  the  knees,  and  even  their  rigidity 
betokens  weariness  at  having  to  stand  so  long.  There 
are  weeds  and  briars  choldng  the  old  footways,  as  if 


308  OLD    YORK 

Nature  were  making  ready  to  shortly  assume  charge 
of  the  remains.  Tliis  is  especially  true  of  the  old  Jun- 
kins  garrison  house,  not  far  from  the  Mclntire  home- 
stead. 

But  here  are  some  old  andirons,  twisted  and  bent 
and  eaten  up,  almost,  by  the  ravenous  fires  that  have 
long  ago  burned  themselves  out;  and  here  is  some 
wood,  and  an  old  pine  knot  that  is  so  "fat"  that  it 
shows  the  varnish  of  its  resinous  saps,  and  is  as  rich 
in  its  coloring  as  the  back  of  some  old  violin  made  in 
the  days  of  Stradivarius.  I  do  not  see  the  rusty  tin 
tinder-box,  in  wliich  was  always  kept  the  flint  and 
steel  and  a  bit  of  punk,  that  ought  to  be  at  one  end 
of  the  rude  mantel  over  the  fireplace;  but  the  ill- 
smelling  brimstone  match  will  do  as  well,  except 
that  the  flint  and  steel  and  its  old-fashioned  appli- 
ances would  have  given  me  time  to  gather  my  wits, 
wliich  is  quite  an  important  consideration,  if  one  is 
to  indulge  somewhat  in  romancing. 

But  let  me  hght  this  pitch-lmot  and  set  the  old 
broken  hearth  ablaze.  The  smoke  chokes  a  moment 
in  the  old  Junkins  chimney  throat,  and  then  the  flame 
leaps,  and  the  hght  dances  up  and  down  the  time- 
stained  walls;  the  backlog  crackles  and  croons  a 
song  of  the  wilderness  woods.  The  old  voicings  come, 
and  the  looms  in  the  brain  begin  to  work;  the  sleys 
go  up  and  down  as  the  shuttle  flies  back  and  forth, 
and  the  web  grows  eerily  to  the  rhythm  of  the  incom- 
ing tide,  and  the  rough  sibilance  of  the  wet,  salty 
winds  that  are  "blowing  up  a  storm,"  and  that,  like 
Endor's  witch,  crowd  the  empty    spaces  about    our 


OLD    YORK  309 

fire  with  many  a  ghostly  figure.  How  they  do  troop 
in  like  so  many  children !  for  here  is  old  Trickey,  and 
old  Aunt  Polly  who  Uved  on  Brimstone  Hill;  and 
Mary  Greenland  and  Easter  Booker,  with  her  witch- 
bridle  over  her  shoulder,  with  hag-harassed  Skipper 
Perkins  safely  noosed  and  considerably  blown  after 
his  rough  journey  hither  from  Chauncey's  Creek  with 
a  horde  of  hob-thrushes  on  his  back.  Here  is  Skipper 
Mitchell,  who  sailed  the  Vesjyer  from  Pepperrcll's  wharf 
about  the  time  the  baronet  was  building  the  Spar- 
hawk  manse;  and  over  in  the  darkest  corner,  half- 
buried  in  the  dun  shadows  of  the  dusk  is  a  lone 
woman.  No,  it  is  not  Hester  Prynne.  This  woman 
never  heard  of  her  other  sister  in  misfortune,  but  she 
has  the  red  letter  A  on  her  left  sleeve.  I  cannot  re- 
call her  name  just  now,  but  we  will  have  to  ask  ques- 
tions, and  I  trow  Betty  Booker  can  tell;  if  not,  Skipper 
Mitchell  will  know,  for  she  has  come  over  here  from 
Kittery  Point,  and  it  may  be  she  has  a  witch-bridle 
about  her  neck,  too.  If  she  has,  you  may  be  sure 
the  old  hag  Polly  holds  to  one  end  of  it.  Aunt  Polly 
is  from  Kittery  way.  She  used  to  make  witch- 
bridles,  and  famous  ones. 

But  how  the  winds  buffet  against  the  gable  of  the 
old  garrison  house!  That  is  old  Trickey  who  has 
just  stolen  out  the  door.  The  two  shag-bearded  men 
under  the  little  square  window  by  the  farther  corner 
are  Junkins  and  Mclntire,  and  if  you  get  near  enough 
to  catch  their  whispers  between  their  generous  pulls 
at  the  quart  stoup  of  steaming  rum  between  them, 
you  will  hear  the  story  of  old  Trickey,  a  story  that  is 


310 


OLD    YORK 


still  told  along  the  sands  of  York  when  the  winds  are 
high  and  the  sheeted  rain  drives  in  from  the  east. 

Perhaps  it  is  well  to  say  right  here  that  among  the 
ancient  New  England  settlements  no  place  is  more 
abundant  in  legend  and  tracUtion  than  the  reaches  of 
shore,  the  strips  of  sand  and  ragged  headlands  of  this 
broken   coast   of   York,  and  by   York  I  mean  that 


JUNKINS    GARRISON    HOUSE 


from  Pascataquack  to  the  easterly  boundary  of  In- 
dian Mogg's  possessions.  These  tales  of  the  early 
times,  hereabout,  are  rich  in  the  suggestions  of  the 
hardsliips  of  hving,  the  strenuous  character,  and  the 
dogged  temperament  of  those  who  gave  them  cre- 
dence, and  among  whom  was  found  fertile  planting 
ground,  —  a  harvest  of  lore  waiting  for  the  reaper. 

But,  this  must  be  visitors'  night,  for  here  are  Har- 
mon and  Frost  and  a  dozen  others;  if  we  are  patient 


OLD    YORK  311 

we  will  get  a  word  with  each.  But  how  in  the  world 
these  two  witches  got  out  from  under  the  heavy 
stones  that  were  piled  into  their  graves  is  more  than 
I  can  imagine;  but  one  need  have  no  fear,  for  Mother 
Earth  has  long  ago  drunk  up  all  their  saps  and  juices, 
and  these  dim  shapes  that  seem  to  enjoy  the  genial 
warmth  of  the  open  fire  are  but  scraps  of  memory. 

Old  Trickey?  Yes,  but  it  is  one  of  those  old  tales 
that  come  up  with  the  kelp  and  devil's  apron  about 
Cape  Neddock  when  the  wind  comes  from  the  east- 
ward, dripping  with  wet. 

Trickey  was  a  fisherman,  and  as  rough  and  unruly 
of  disposition  as  the  wildest  eea  he  ever  rode  out. 
He  lived  at  the  mouth  of  York  River,  but  just  where, 
no  one  seems  to  know;  but  there  were  Trickeys  in 
Kittery.  He  was  as  prickly  and  irritable  as  the 
saltest  brine;  and  Ms  ugliness  and  generally  dis- 
reputable character  for  wickedness  and  malevolence 
were  nowhere  to  be  questioned.  All  these  made  of 
him  a  privileged  character,  who  without  let  or  hin- 
drance, wrought  in  the  devil's  vineyard  after  his  own 
inventions. 

After  he  died  it  was  said  that  on  account  of  his 
misdeeds  done  in  the  body,  the  devil  condemned 
him  to  stay  about  the  region  of  Bra'boat  Harbor,  and 
he  was  supposed  to  haunt  the  vicinity  constantly. 
The  curse  was  upon  him,  and  his  doom  was  to  bind 
and  haul  sand  with  a  rope  until  the  devil  was  satis- 
fied. Curse  as  he  would,  and  fume  and  fret,  it  was 
useless  mi  til  liis  task  was  done.  The  devil  had  ex- 
acted so  much  sand,  and  so  much  he  would  have. 


312  OLD    YORK 

SO  old  Trickey  got  at  his  work  when  the  storm  began 
to  gather  and  the  sand  dunes  inshore  grew  in  size 
and  number.  When  the  brew  of  the  gale  wet  the 
nose  of  Cape  Neddock,  the  wraith  of  old  Trickey 
would  come  shrieking  along  over  the  marshes  and 
then  he  was  at  his  Sisyphus-like  labor,  when  the  air 
was  filled  with  his  wailing  cries,  "More  rope!  More 
rope!  More  sand!  More  sand!"  and  there  he  wTOught 
amid  the  rack  of  the  storm.  As  the  dusk  deepened 
the  figure  of  old  Trickey  grew  and  grew,  until  racing 
inland  with  liis  load  of  sand  he  strode  over  the  cabin 
roofs  to  disappear  until  the  coming  of  the  next  gale. 
In  the  morning  the  sands  had  shifted  strangely,  and 
as  the  sun  shot  its  hght  across  them,  the  \nllage  folk 
could  not  but  observe  the  tremulousness  of  the  atmo- 
sphere above  them.  It  was  old  Trickey  struggling 
with  the  devil  over  the  scene  of  liis  labors  of  the  night 
before,  and  after  dark  these  sands  were  as  much  to 
be  avoided  as  the  graveyard  a  little  way  up  the  Mil 

Nowadays,  when  the  fogs  roll  in,  and  the  sea  and 
sky  are  one,  and  the  winds  begin  to  rise,  and  the 
growl  of  the  surf  on  the  harbor  bar  grows  louder, 
the  fisherfolk  say,  "Old  Trickey  is  binding  and 
hauling  sand  to-night !  God  save  the  fishing-smacks 
from  harm!" 

The  old  jail  at  York  is  now  used  as  a  museum  for 
such  antiquities  as  the  people  there  are  able  to  keep 
from  taking  wings  and  flying  away.  Among  the 
treasures  there  shown  is  the  Bible  once  owned  by 
Trickey,  a  cherished  curiosity,  and  an  eerie  thing,  if 
what  one  may  hear  is  to  be  taken  without  salt.     It 


OLD    YORK  U3 

is  said  there  is  a  spell  upon  it.  It  is  ancient  enough, 
and  its  joints  are  stiff  and  dry.  As  one  opens  it,  the 
binding  is  somewhat  reluctant  in  its  yielding,  and 
like  many  books  made  to-day  it  will  not  stay  opened, 
but  flies  shut  with  a  vicious  snap;  and  some  say  they 
cannot  push  its  black  covers  apart;  and  so,  it  must 
be  haunted,  or  ''cursed."  If  old  man  Trickey  had 
used  it  more  frequently  liimself,  the  old  tome  would 
have  been  more  pliable,  doubtless.  However,  it  is  an 
interesting  rehc,  and  as  one  fumbles  at  its  discolored 
leaves,  the  story  of  its  owner  of  long  years  before 
smacks  of  reality,  and  out  of  the  moaning  of  the  sea 
and  the  wailing  of  the  wind  is  readily  conjured  the 
tortured  and  maddened  outcries  of  this  devil-doomed 
sand-man. 

Poor  Mary  Greenland  seems  to  be  in  a  fidget  about 
sometliing.  It  may  be  that  this  air  does  not  agree 
with  her,  or  her  husband  is  inclined  to  object  to  her 
rambhng  about  nights,  as  it  was  said  she  was  wont 
to  do  in  her  yoimger  days.  She  was  reputed  to  have 
a  famihar  spirit,  but  she  was  twenty  years  in  advance 
of  the  times.  She  died  soon  after,  1684,  quietly  and 
decently;  but  had  she  not  been  in  such  haste,  she 
might  ultimately  have  been  considered  at  the  Min- 
istry House  at  old  Salem  village,  and  her  earthly 
exit  would  probably  have  been  no  less  certainly 
accomplished,  but  with  it  would  have  come  the  fame 
of  martyrdom,  and  the  seal  of  a  high,  oflicial  sanction. 

If  the  Greenland  woman  had  not  been  born  so 
soon,  I  think  the  depositions  of  Deborah  Lockwood 
and   Deborah   Phenix,   wives   of  reputable   men   of 


314  OLD    YORK 

Ejttery,  would  have  made  her  eligible  to  the  Nineteen 
Club  of  Salem. 

"These  deponents  testify  that  Mary  Pearse  did 
say  when  Alexander  Jones  did  sail  out  of  Piscattaqua 
River  with  Ellinor  and  Sarah  Pearse  and  John 
Pearse  about  November  or  December  last  a  violent 
storm  did  arise  and  Mary  Greenland  ye  wife  of  Henry 
Greenland  did  then  appear  or  ye  devill  in  her  Ukeness, 
that  she  was  known  by  hir  voice,  namely,  Mary 
Greenland  further  saith  ye  sd  Mary  Pearse  did 
say  that  liir  father  did  se  ye  sd  Mary  Greenland  start 
out  of  a  bush  wch  made  liir  fathers  haire  stand  on  end 
for  feare." 

This  "hearsay"  was  taken  February  18,  1669. 

Ann  Lin,  "being  summoned  saith  that  this  depo- 
nent being  at  her  mother  Lockwoods  house  Mary 
Pears  was  there  and  this  said  Mary  Pears  was  talk- 
ing about  some  witches  that  should  be  about  Alix- 
ander  Jones  boat  when  they  were  going  to  the  south- 
ward and  Mary  Pears  did  say  after  tliis  discourse  that 
her  father  goeing  out  to  seeke  liis  cowes  that  Mrs. 
Greenland  did  start  out  of  a  bush  and  did  fright  her 
father,  or  the  devill  in  her  Ukeness,  and  further  saith 
not."    This  was  incubated  in  the  following  March. 

Greenland  was  shortly  after  banished  the  town, 
and  imdoubtedly  this  deposition-ridden  woman  went 
with  liim.  Greenland  was  a  contentious  sort  of  a 
fellow,  and  no  doubt  wherever  he  went  about  Kit- 
tery  he  found  foul  weather  brewing. 

Mistress  Greenland's  reputation  as  a  witch  fades 
into  the  commonplace   beside   that   of  Aunt   Polly 


OLD    YORK  315 

and  the  Booker  woman.  Aunt  Polly's  hut  was  in 
a  secluded  part  of  the  town,  the  immediate  vicinage 
of  which  was  known,  in  doubtful  euphony,  as  witch- 
haunted,  malodorous  Brimstone  Hill.  Here  she 
held  malignant  sway,  and  it  was  here  the  credulous 
folk  of  her  time  came  with  their  good-will  offerings 
of  what  the  old  hag  was  supposed  to  be  most  fond  of, 
all  the  time  taking  good  care  to  keep  beyond  the  noose 
of  her  famous  witch-bridle. 

From  time  to  time  I  caught  furtive  glances  in  her 
direction,  on  the  part  of  Skipper  Mitchell,  as  if  his 
experience  at  her  hands  were  not  utterly  forgotten, 
and  he  seemed  to  be  going  over  those  days  when  he 
had  the  Vesper  beached,  and  with  liis  ship's  crew 
was  hurrying  her  repairs  for  his  summer  fishing 
cruise.  She  of  all  the  fleet  hereabout  had  been  left 
behind,  and  the  skipper  spent  the  most  of  his  time 
in  storming  and  urging  and  cursing  the  slowness  of 
the  work. 

"  Dod-gast  it,  th'  Vesper  wunt  git  oot  o'  Chauncey's 
Cove  'n  all  summer!"  he  roared.  "To  work,  marlin- 
spiks!  to  work!" 

AVork  as  they  would  the  Vesper  hugged  her 
muddy  berth,  until  one  day  came  when  the  boys 
got  word  there  was  to  be  a  jollification  at  Bra'boat 
Harbor.  They  wanted  to  go,  but  the  sldpper  ob- 
jected ^vith  a  roar  and  an  outburst  of  fury  that 
made  his  previous  rhetorical  pretensions  tamely  flat 
and  innocuous. 

"Dod-gast  it,  th'  Vesper  '11  sail  on  th'  fust  tide,, 
termorrer!" 


316  OLD    YORK 

So  the  men  wrought,  with  here  and  there  a  murmur, 
as  the  calking-hammers  lapsed  in  their  rhythm. 
When  night  came  the  Vesper  was  ready  for  sea. 

By  sun-up  of  the  following  day  the  skipper  betook 
himself  to  where  the  Vesper  lay  idly  at  anchor,  and 
he  forgot  for  the  once  his  raucous  objurgations  in 
his  amaze.  The  tide  was  well  out,  and  there  lay  the 
Vesper  without  shore  or  spur,  with  a  brace  of  heavy 
spars  outreaching  from  her  larboard  rail,  on  which 
were  huge  fish-tubs  filled  with  water.  And  then  he 
stormed  up  and  down  the  mud;  and  the  neighbors 
came  to  see,  while  the  tide  crept  still  farther  do^\T:i 
the  flats,  until  the  Vesper's  keel  could  be  made  out 
its  length;  and  still  the  staunch  schooner  sat  erect, 
when  the  weight  to  larboard  should  have  throwTi  her 
with  a  disastrous  crash  upon  her  bilge.  And  so  the 
Vesper  stood,  as  jauntily  as  if  the  tide  were  at  its 
flood,  her  garboard  streak  showing  above  the  mud, 
while  the  wind  whistled  crazily  through  her  rigging. 

Then  some  one  said,  "Skipper,  she  '  teched,'  sure." 

"Dod-gasted,  ef  she  haint,  er  she'd  a  bilged  afore 
this!" 

"Thet  's  ol'  Polly's  wuk,"  whispered  another. 

And  the  Skipper  Mitchell  bethought  himself  of  his 
crew.  But  they  were  all  at  Bra'boat  Harbor,  and 
as  the  sun  went  down,  they  turned  up  to  a  man; 
and  when  the  tide  was  full,  they  emptied  the  tubs 
and  housed  the  spars,  and  with  a  jolly  "Heav.-o!" 
up  came  the  anchor.  The  sheets  were  braced,  and 
the  Vesper  swung  her  nose  to  seaward,  and  at  dusk 
she  was  far  away  in  the  offing. 


OLD    YORK  317 

Sure  enough,  they  had  consulted  Aunt  Polly. 
She  told  them  to  go  to  the  jolhfication;  "she'd  tek 
keer  o'  th'  schooner." 

This  is  one  of  Aunt  Polly's  liveliest  traditions,  and 
credence  is  given  to  the  tale  by  some  of  the  Battery 
sea-dogs,  who,  if  one  will  listen,  will  spin  many 
another  queer  yarn,  with  their  voices  pitched  to  the 
subdued  key  of  a  spinning-wheel's  murmurous  song. 
And  one  always  catches  the  name  of  Betty  Booker, 
once  the  flush-board  is  off  the  dam. 

These  two  skippers,  Mitchell  and  Perkins,  were 
both  Kittery  salts,  but  of  the  two.  Skipper  Perkins 
was  the  worst  curried.  Old  Betty  Booker  wanted 
some  fish,  and  she  suggested  her  need  to  the  skipper, 

"  Bring  me  a  bit  o'  hal'but,  skipper,  when  you  git 
in—" 

"Show  me  your  sixpence,  ma'am,"  was  the  thrifty 
reply. 

And  with  an  ill-boding  scowl,  and  a  shake  of  — 

"Her  wicked  head,  with  its  wild  gray  hair, 
And  nose  of  a  hawk,  and  eyes  like  a  snake," 

she  watched  the  skipper  sail  away.  The  sea  beat 
him  up  and  down.  The  gale  tore  liis  sails,  and  the 
fish  sheered  away  from  his  trawls.  His  men  got 
sick,  and  his  schooner  came  home  poorer  than  she 
went.  Then  it  got  bruited  about  that  Betty  Booker 
was  making  a  witch-bridle  for  the  skipper,  and  was 
going  to  ride  him  down  to  York  some  wild  night; 
whereat,  the  skipper,  when  it  came  to  his  ears,  got 
into  a  mortal  terror.     He  was  sure  to  be  at  home, 


318  OLD    YORK 

always,  before  dusk;  and  his  doors  were  barred 
double,  and  he  quaked  and  shivered  and  shook  until 
the  sun  came  up.  Finally  Betty  sent  the  skipper 
word  that  the  first  stormy  night  she  would  ride  him 
to  York. 

Then  he  waited  for  the  storm,  and  the  storm  came. 
The  rain  drove  across  Chauncey's  Creek  in  blinding 
sheets;  the  winds  WTenched  and  tore  at  the  trees 
along  shore,  shaking  the  gables  of  the  houses.  Folk 
huddled  about  their  slow  fires  with  so  much  wet 
coming  down  the  chimneys,  and  whispered  awe- 
somely that  the  witches  were  out. 

Skipper  Perkins  not  only  barred  his  door  double, 

but  he  piled  all  the  movable  furniture  in  liis  rooms 

against  it,  and  then  he  waited  for  Betty  Booker;  nor 

was  she  long  in  coming.     An  unearthly  wail  came 

down  the  wind,  and  there  was  a  scratching  of  a  hmi- 

dred  witch-claws  on  his  door,  and  above  all  sounded 

the  cracked  notes  of  Betty  Booker's  voice,  — 

"Bring  me  a  bit  o'  hal'but,  skipper!" 

But  the  skipper  piled  the  furniture  higher  against 

the  door,  and  pushed  against  it  with  all  his  strength. 

"Bring  me  a  bit  o'  hal'but,  skipper!" 

With  cry  of  the  hag,  the  gale  rose  higher,  and  with 

rougher  buffetings  it  smote  the  old  door  that  was 

built  to  look  out  on  the  sea;  and  then  it  began  to 

open  so  the  skipper  felt  a  spatter  of  rain  on  his  face. 

He  heard  the  wild  chatter  of  the  witches,  but  he 

still  held  to  his  pushing,  until  he  felt  himself  sliding 

along  the  rough  floor.     He  made  a  leap  for  his  bed, 

winding  himself  about   in   its   coverings;   the   door 


OLD    YORK  319 

flew  open  and  in  trooped  the  witches.  They  pounced 
upon  the  skipper,  and  stripped  him  to  his  skin;  and 
while  he  cowered  in  his  fear,  old  Betty  bridled  him 
and  got  upon  his  back,  while  the  other  witches 
climbed  upon  hers,  and  off  they  raced  through  the 
gale  to  York  Harbor.  When  he  lagged,  they  pricked 
him  with  their  claws  to  make  him  go  the  faster;  and 
so  they  rode  him  as  long  as  they  wished,  to  get  him 
back  to  Kittery  before  cock-crow,  more  dead  than 
alive. 

"Don't  say  sixpence,  skipper,  to  a  poor  old  woman, 
again,"  was  Betty  Booker's  parting  admonition,  as 
she  and  her  familiars  vanished  into  the  mists  of  the 
darkest  part  of  the  night. 

After  that  the  skipper  took  to  his  bed,  where  for 
three  weeks  he  nursed  his  wounds  and  told  Ms  story 
to  liis  neighbors. 

In  one  of  the  old  houses  of  Ettery,  a  part  of  which 
was  being  torn  down  not  long  ago,  an  old  witch- 
bridle  was  found  between  the  lathing  and  the  outside 
boarding.  It  was  made  of  the  hair  of  the  tail  of  a 
horse,  strands  of  tow,  and  the  inside  bark  of  the 
yellow  birch.  A  woman  who  happened  to  be  pres- 
ent loiew  what  it  was,  and  seizing  it  with  the  tongs 
threw  it  into  the  fire.  That  there  were  such  things 
seems  to  be  well  authenticated. 

There  were  witches  in  York,  but  they  seem  to 
have  been  of  the  harmless  sort,  who  never  raised 
anything  but  a  heavy  gale  to  break  down  the  corn 
or  topple  over  a  chimney.  One  hears  about  black 
Dinah  and  her  "weather-pan."     Black  Dinah  Hved 


320  OLD    YORK 

in  York,  and  her  hut  stood  on  a  rock  at  the  inter- 
section of  three  roads,  and  it  overlooked  the  okl 
mill-dam  on  York  River.  Her  warming-pan  when 
she  put  it  over  the  fire  was  productive  of  great 
atmospheric  disturbances.  It  was  a  Pandora's  box 
of  the  whole  gamut  of  tempestuous  phenomena, 
—  flooding  rains,  hurricanes,  and  even  earthquakes. 
She  was  here  in  York  as  early  as  1770,  and  was  an 
object  of  avoidance  by  the  credulous.  Easter  Booker 
was  her  contemporary  in  York.  She  slept  at  night 
with  her  head  in  Kittery  and  her  feet  in  York. 
Emery  speaks  of  her  as  bearing  a  striking  resemblance 
to  the  biblical  portrait  of  Lucinda,  the  Endor  woman 
of  Saul's  acquaintance.  In  later  years,  Easter 
Booker  disappeared  and  was  never  afterward  seen. 
She  may  have  been  the  Betty  of  the  Skipper  Perkins 
yarn;  but  that  does  not  matter  much.  The  yarn 
holds  its  dye  just  the  same. 

It  must  have  been  a  quaint  people  to  have  absorbed 
so  much  of  these  quaint  tales,  according  supernatural 
powers  to  a  bit  of  hair,  some  tow,  and  a  strip  of  birch 
bark;  but  the  taint  is  in  the  blood  of  their  posterity 
after  a  fasliion  even  now. 

As  has  been  before  noted,  in  1711  there  were 
twenty-one  garrison  houses  in  York.  There  were  in 
1690  ten  garrisons  in  lower  Kittery;  in  upper  Kit- 
tery there  were  eight.  A  hst  of  them  has,  fortu- 
nately, been  preserved.  In  the  upper  part  of  Kittery 
was  the  Frost  garrison,  and  doubtless  there  was  an 
old  place  of  defence  on  the  site  of  what  is  now  Fort 
M'Clary.     In  its  early  days,  this  was  Fort  WilHams, 


OLD    TORE 


321 


and  here  was  a  substantial  block  house,  but  it  was 
probably  of  later  construction.  William  Pepperrell's 
and  the  Widow  Champemo^vne's  were  two  of  those 
in  lower  Kjttery.  The  establishment  of  these  garri- 
sons was  important;  and  it  is  undoubtedly  due  to 
the  fact  that  so  many  were  maintained,  that  the 
settlers  of  this  portion  of  the  province  were  able  to 


THE    FROST   GARRISON    HOUSE 


maintain  a  footing,  and  to  preserve  some  semblance 
of  occupation  of  this  end  of  York. 

Accorchng  to  the  town  records  in  1722,  there  were 
thirty-six  garrisons.  These  were  established  by 
the  military  officers  of  Kittery,  and  there  seem  to  be 
twelve  of  them,  and  among  the  names  appear  those 
of  William  Pepperrell  and  William  Pepperrell,  Jr. 
Until  1675  these  settlers  had  lived  in  peace  with  the 
savages,  though  there  is  a  tradition  extant  that  in 
1648  —  another  date   of   1650  is   given  —  Nicholas 


322  (^LD    YORK 

Frost's  wife  and  daughter  were  killed  in  Berwick, 
upper  Kittery.  This  is  to  be  doubted,  however, 
as  there  was  at  that  time  no  Indian  outbreak;  nor 
is  there  any  mention  of  the  occurrence  in  the  Kittery 
records.  To  follow  the  tradition,  Nicholas  Frost  and 
his  son  were  away  from  their  home  on  Leighton's 
Point,  and  in  their  absence  the  women  were  spirited 
away.  When  the  Frosts  came  home  and  discovered 
what  had  happened,  they  set  out  in  hot  pursuit,  over- 
taking the  savage  marauders.  A  fight  took  place, 
and  the  son,  Charles,  a  boy  of  seventeen,  shot  two 
of  the  Indians,  one  of  whom  was  a  chief.  The  next 
day  the  wife  and  daughter  were  found  tomahawked 
and  scalped.  How  much  truth  there  may  be  in  the 
tale,  or  any  other  tale  of  a  similar  character,  and  of 
a  happening  so  far  away,  is  hardly  worth  the  discuss- 
ing. They  were  rough  times,  and  there  are  always 
isolated  cases  which  are  classed  among  the  excep- 
tions. 

The  outbreak,  instigated  by  King  Philip,  came  in 
1675.  It  was  in  June  the  first  blow  was  struck  at  the 
Plymouth  people.  From  thence  it  crept  by  quick 
repetition  along  the  line  of  the  frontier,  until  it  reached 
Richard  Tozier's,  who  lived  a  bit  above  Salmon  Falls. 
Tozier  was  away  with  Captain  John  Wincoll,  but  the 
garrison  house  was  close  by,  and  the  fifteen  people 
who  happened  to  be  in  the  house  stole  from  the  door 
at  its  rear  and  made  for  the  garrison,  while  an 
eighteen-year-old  girl  held  the  door  until  it  was  de- 
molished by  the  hatchets  of  the  savages.  The  girl 
was   tomahawked  and    left  behind,  to  recover  and 


OLD    YOllK  323 

live  to  tell  the  tale  for  maii}^  years  after.  The  result 
of  this  raid,  the  first  of  many  in  this  section,  was  the 
capture  of  one  woman,  and  the  slaughter  of  a  three- 
year-old  child.  The  next  day,  the  smokes  of  Win- 
coil's  home  went  rolling  off  over  the  Berwick  woods. 
This  was  the  beginning  hereabout  of  a  series  of  savage 
reprisals  that  only  ended  with  the  death  of  James 
Pikernell  in  1812,  who  fell  almost  across  his  own 
threshold.  Tradition  has  it  that  his  wife  was  slain 
at  the  same  time. 

Berwick  seemed  to  be  the  point  upon  which  these 
attacks  were  principally  focussed.  That  was  due, 
perhaps,  to  its  being  more  thinly  settled,  it  being 
upon  the  outskirts  of  Kittery,  which  at  that  time 
was  a  populous  and  prosperous  settlement.  Through- 
out this  entire  Indian  warfare,  lower  Kittery  suffered 
least  of  her  neighbors. 

But  the  story  of  the  Indian  warfare  that  ebbed 
and  flowed  intermittently  about  the  frontier  of  upper 
Kittery,  and  thence  along  toward  the  marshes  of 
Scarborough,  are  as  much  the  story  of  York  as  of 
the  immediate  locality  of  the  savage  episode. 
Authentic  records  of  many  of  the  most  stirring  events 
of  the  times  are  not  to  be  had;  but  their  lines  were 
painted  in  such  ruddy  hue  as  to  have  been  trans- 
mitted to  succeeding  generations  along  with  the 
ruddy  life-currents  nursed  from  the  bosoms  of  mrny 
a  heroic  survivor  of  those  far-away  midnight  raids, 
when  a  wild  whoop,  or  a  glare  of  flame  on  the  sky, 
carried  the  tale  of  butchery  and  devastation,  Marconi- 
like, far  over  the  tops  of  the  woods  to  other  isolated 


324  OLD    YORK 

cabins,  whose  inmates,  driving  their  stock  afield, 
shouldered  their  children  and  hastened  to  the  near- 
est garrison  house,  there  to  await  the  onslaught  that 
was  sure  to  come;  and  woe  betide  the  laggard  whose 
slow  wit  or  whose  bellicose  disposition  lost  time  in 
so  doing.  Once  behind  these  stout  walls,  the  settlers 
were  comparatively  safe  from  a  foe  that  rarely 
showed  itself,  imless  \dctory  were  so  certain  that  the 
added  element  of  terror  at  the  sight  of  the  painte;! 
devils  would  make  the  paleface  a  readier  prey. 
The  Indian  was  a  skulker;  an  aboriginal  bush- 
whacker; a  blood-besotted  malignant  of  the  devil; 
and  had  Pope  met  one  of  these  fiends  on  the  warpath, 
it  is  doubtful  if  he  would  have  perpetrated,  — 

"the  poor  Indian,  whose  untutored  mind 
Sees  God  in  the  clouds  and  hears  Him  in  the  wind." 

He  would  at  least  have  thought  it  something  of  a 
strain  on  his  conscience,  w^hich  hardly  poetic  hcense 
could  justify,  especially  after  the  hair-raising  possi- 
bilities common  to  the  unfortunate  captive. 

To  look  over  the  ground  at  this  day,  it  is  a  wonder 
that  a  smgle  wliite  person  east  of  the  Piscataqua 
River  should  have  survived  the  devilish  ingenuity 
of  Moxus,  and  the  military  skill  of  Portneuf  and 
Labocree.  These  garrison  houses  were  their  salva- 
tion, and  they  were  scattered  at  short  intervals  the 
length  of  the  coast  from  the  Piscataqua  to  Falmouth. 
They  were  built  by  the  settlers  at  their  owti  expense, 
and  Massachusetts  showed  little  anxiety  as  to  their 
probable  fate.    In  Kittery  the  people  were  so  im- 


OLD    YORK 


325 


poverished  by  their  efforts  to  protect  themselves,  that 
after  the  peace  the  General  Court  was  asked  to 
abate  the  taxes  by  the  selectmen.  East  of  Wells 
the  province  was  laid  waste.  There  were  fourteen 
years  that  Falmouth  was  deserted,  and  in  that  time 
it  had  relapsed  into  a  wilderness. 

Going  back  to  the  locality  of  the  Tozier  cabin,  in 


CUTT   GARRISON    HOUSE,    KITTERY 


October  of  1675,  out  of  the  s'lonce  of  the  autumn 
afternoon  burst  the  whoops  of  a  hundred  savages. 
The  family  was  surprised,  and  overwhelmed  by 
numbers,  notwithstanding  Tozier  made  a  brave  re- 
sistance. He  was  killed  and  his  son  carried  into 
captivity;  and  through  the  painted  woodlands  of 
Berwick  filtered  or  drifted  the  smokes  of  his  rude 
home.     Lieut.  Roger  Plaisted  was  in  command  of  the 


326  OLD    YORK 

garrison  house,  and  sent  out  a  reconnoitring  party 
of  nine  men.  They  had  not  gone  far  into  the  under- 
brush, when  a  hail  of  shot  fell  about  them,  and  just 
a  third  of  their  number  dropped,  while  the  other  six 
got  their  legs,  and  made  the  garrison  safely.  The 
day  following,  a  relay  was  despatched  for  the  bodies. 
It  w\as  a  cart  dra^Mi  by  oxen,  with  an  escort  of  twenty 
men.  They  must  have  presented  a  curious  sight  in 
such  a  time  of  peril  to  have  gone  in  such  a  foolhardy 
way  about  the  enterprise.  The  result  was  what 
might  have  been  expected.  A  cloud  of  musket 
smoke  rolled  away  from  the  wall  and  over  the  tops 
of  the  bushes,  and  the  Uttle  party  was  almost  entirely 
annihilated.  Plaisted  himself  was  cut  down  by  a 
hatchet.  It  was  twenty  against  a  hmidred,  and  this 
was  the  way  the  settler  was  to  make  the  acquaintance 
of  the  Indian  method  of  making  war. 

Just  before  these  men  left  the  garrison,  Plaisted  and 
one  John  Broughton  made  up  an  appeal  for  aid,  and 
had  sent  it  out  by  a  rmmer.  What  happened  to 
the  garrison  after  that  can  only  be  conjectured,  as  it 
reciuired  but  one  or  two  more  foolish  expeditions 
of  the  sort  to  render  it  defenceless. 

As  one  goes  over  the  railroad  bridge  at  Salmon 
Falls,  a  look  out  the  car  window  to  the  northward 
will  show  a  pleasant  hillslope.  This  is  a  part  of  the 
old  Plaisted  estate,  and  if  one  were  making  a  foot  ' 
jaunt  along  the  yellow  thread  of  the  highway  that 
creeps  over  and  beyond  its  crest,  one  might  see  the 
memorial  that  brings  the  gruesome  tale  to  mind. 

Any  one  who  is  at  all  acquainted  with  the  history 


OLD    YORK  327 

of  that  period  will  recall  the  capture  of  Major  Wal- 
tlron  of  Dover  in  his  bed,  and  how  the  Indians  crossed 
out  their  several  accounts  with  him,  but  they  may 
not  be  so  well  acquainted  with  the  stimulus  to  this 
midnight  vengeance.     Waldron,  and  Captain  Charles 
Frost,  who  Hved  in  upper  Kittery,  by  strategem  cap- 
tured two  hundred  Indians  at  Cocheco.    They  got 
up  a  sham  fight;  invited  the  savages,  and  this  was 
Waldron's  ruse.     They  were  sent  to  Boston  to  be 
dealt  with;  some  were  executed  summarily  for  the  out- 
rages in  which  they  had  been  engaged,  but  the  larger 
portion  of  them  were  disposed  of  to  the  slave-dealer. 
It  is  a  matter  of  history  how  Waldron  met  his 
fate;  as  for  Frost,  his  turn  came  in  time.     The  Indian 
memory  is  famous,  as  famous  as  liis  hate;  and  like 
the  Harmons  of  York,  he  was  doomed  as  certainly 
as  if  he  had  midergone  the  solemnity  of  a  trial,  and 
had  been  remanded  to  the  jail  to  await  his  execution. 
Not  long  after  the  Tozier  tragedy,  a  peace  was  en- 
tered into  which  lasted  until  1689,  when  the  deposing 
of  James  II.,  and  the  espousing  of  the  cause  of  the 
legitimacy  by  Louis  XIV.,  led  to  a  declaration  of 
hostilities  between  the   English  under  William  and 
Mary,  and  the  French  interference.     It  was  the  op- 
posing of  Jesuit  to  Protestant.    The  colonies  became 
involved,  and  the  French  interests  in  Canada  were 
only  too  eager  to  take  advantage  of  so  advantageous 
an  opportunity  to  set  the  savages  of  eastern  Maine 
at  the  heels  of  the  English  settler,  whose  area  of 
occupation    east    of     York    had    increased    notably 
through  the  preceding  ten  years  of  security. 


328  OLD    YORK 

The  storm  burst  upon  Salmon  Falls  and  Quam- 
pliegan,  and  quoting  from  the  letter  of  William 
Vauglin  and  Richard  Martyn,  one  gets  the  local  flavor 
and  a  sensing  of  the  deep  feehng  of  desperation  which 
pervaded  the  hearts  of  these  people.  This  letter 
was  written  the  day  following  the  butchery  at  Salmon 
Falls.  It  bears  date  "March  18,  1689-80,"  and  a  full 
quotation  is  given. 

"Yesterday  we  gave  accot  of  ye  dreadful  destruc- 
tion of  Salmon  ffalls  the  perticulers  whereof  please 
take  as  followeth; 

''The  enemy  made  their  onset  between  break  of  the 
day  &  sunrise  —  when  most  were  in  bed  &  no  watch 
kept  neither  in  the  fort  nor  house  they  presently 
took  possession  of  ye  fort  to  prevent  any  of  ours 
doing  it  &  so  carried  all  before  them  by  a  surprize, 
none  of  our  men  being  able  to  get  together  into  a 
body  to  oppose  them,  so  that  in  the  place  were  kild 
&  taken  between  fourscore  &  100  persons,  of  wch 
between  twenty  &  Thirty  able  men,  the  fort  &  upards 
of  twenty  houses  burnt,  most  of  the  Cattle  burnt  in 
the  houses  or  otherwise  kil'd  which  were  very  con- 
siderable from  thence  the  Enemy  proceeded  to 
Quamphegon  where  lived  onely  Thomas  Homes  who 
upon  the  Alarm  retired  from  his  house  to  a  small 
garrison  built  near  his  saw  mill  wheither  also  some 
of  Salmon  Falls  yt  made  their  Escape  fled,  about  30 
of  the  Enemies  surrounded  Homes  house,  but  met 
with  noe  opposition  there  till  fourteen  men  of  ours 
came  up  from  ye  lower  parts  of  ye  Town,  &  unde- 
scryed  by  ye  Enemy,  made  a  shot  upon  ye  party  of 


OLD    YORK  329 

Indians  at  homes  houe,  Sundry  of  ym  standing  before 
the  door,  at  wch  shot  they  say  thre  of  the  Enemy 
fell,  ye  rest  run  mto  the  house  &  broke  through  ye 
backside  thereof,  &  being  more  numerous  than  ours 
forced  our  men  to  retire,  nine  of  them  got  safe  home 
&  five  Escaped  to  Holmes  Garrison,  only  one  of  ours 
woimded  in  the  Encounter,  then  the  Enemy  burnt 
Holmes  house  &  proceeded  about  a  mile  lower  down, 
and  burnt  the  ministrs  house  wth  two  more  &  As- 
saulted Spencers  Garrison  but  were  repel'd  and  so 
retir'd.  James  Plaisted  who  was  taken  at  Salmon 
falls  was  sent  by  Hope  Hood  (Commandr  in  chief  of 
the  Indians)  wth  a  flag  of  Truce  to  Tho.  Holmes  for 
ye  surrendr  of  his  Garrison  —  promising  liberty  to 
depart  upon  his  soe  doing,  but  Plaisted  returned  not 
nor  was  ye  Garrison  surrendered. 

"The  sd  Plaisted  who  was  in  ye  Enemies  hands  many 
houres  Informed  yt  he  saw  of  ye  Enemy  one  hundred 
&  fifty  men  well  accoutred  &  Guesses  them  to  be 
about  one  half  ffrench;  upon  their  taking  possession 
he  saith  that  ten  of  them  ffrench  &  Indians  made  A 
dance  wch  Hope  hood  told  him  were  all  officers,  he 
also  told  him  that  his  brother  Gooden  who  lived  in 
Loves  house  was  going  to  be  tryed  for  his  life  by  A 
Councill  of  Warr;  for  yt  in  their  takeing  Loves  house 
the  said  Gooden  had  kil'd  one  ffrench  man  &  mortally 
wounded  another  &  further  that  there  was  Eight 
ffrench  ships  designed  for  Pascataque  River  to  destroy 
ye  same. 

''  The  Alarm  being  given  to  all  adjacent  Towns  in 
ordr  to  their  releife  we  sent  about  thirty  men  from 


330  ^LD    YORK 

this  Town,  as  many  went  from  Dover,  &  a  party  from 
Yorke  together  wth  wt  could  be  got  from  their  own 
town,  but  before  they  could  unite  their  force  it  was 
neare  night  &  then  they  marcht  wth  about  100  men 
under  Command  of  Capt  Jo.  Hammond  Comandr  of 
ye  upper  part  of  Kittery,  the  scouts  yt  went  before 
just  as  they  came  within  sight  of  Salmon  falls  dis- 
covered one  of  ye  Enemy  who  was  binding  up  his 
pack  &  staying  behinde  his  Company  fell  into  our 
hands  wch  proved  to  be  a  ffrenchman  whose  exam- 
ination   in    short   we   herewth   send    to    you  &  to- 
morrow morning  mtend  to  send  the  persons  towards 
you  by  land,  none  by  Water  being  just  ready  to  goe; 
our  fforces  proceeded  in  pursuit  of  ye  Enemy  &  about 
2  mile  above  ye  ffort  of  Salmon  falls  at  the  farther 
house  up  in  the  woods  there  discovered  them  about 
ye  setting  of  ye  sunn,  our  men  presently  fell  upon  them 
&  they  as  resolutely  oppos'd  them,  in  short  the  fight 
lasted  as  long  as  they  could  see  friends  from  Enemies, 
in  wch  we  lost  two  men,  one  of  York  another  of 
Cocheco  kil'd  upon  ye  place  &  6  or  7  woimded  some  is 
feared  mortally;  wt  damage  we  did  the  Enemy  we. 
can't  at  present  say.    Tliis  is  all  ye  accot  we  can  at 
present  Give ;  tomorrow  mtend  you  shall  hear  againe 
from  us;  we  Intrem  Subscribe  ourselves, — " 

This  is- known  as  the  m.assacre  of  Newichawannock. 
Hartel  was  at  the  head  of  the  French,  and  Hopehood, 
chief  of  the  Kennebecki,  led  the  savages.  Twenty- 
seven  cabms  were  burned  in  the  raid;  two  hmidred 
cattle  slaughtered:  thirty-four  persons  were  slain, 
and  fifty-four  women  and  children  were  carried  into 


OLD    YORK  331 

captivity.  The  settlers  of  York,  Kittery,  and  adjoin- 
ing settlements  made  a  brave  defence  against  tre- 
mendous odds ;  and  in  those  days  they  always  seemed 
to  have  the  odds  to  contend  with,  so  isolated  were 
their  homes  and  so  limited  their  means  for  taking 
the  needed  precautions. 

Every  cabin  above  Quamphegan  Falls  had  been 
destroyed,  and  the  country  thereabout  deserted  or 
depopulated.  It  was  evident,  however,  that  the 
savage  lurked  about  the  locality  through  the  summer; 
for  cabins  were  burned  at  Newichawannock  and 
their  dwellers  scalped  the  followmg  May,  and  later 
in  September.  After  this  there  was  an  apparent 
cessation  of  this  predatory  surveillance;  the  leaves 
had  dropped  and  the  snow  had  hidden  them.  Other 
snows  came,  and  the  winter  was  on.  The  Indian 
had  forsaken  the  trail  of  the  settler.  East  of  Wells 
the  country  had  been  stripped  of  the  English.  Not 
a  garrison  house  remained,  and  only  those  of  York 
and  Wells  had  escaped  the  general  disaster  of  this 
savagery.  These  block  houses  were  of  the  most  sub- 
stantial character,  and  presented  outwardly  the 
characteristics  of  impregnability,  with  the  means  of 
offensive  assault  limited  to  the  axe  antl  the  musket. 
Most  of  them  were  without  the  palisade,  Larra- 
bee's,  perhaps,  being  the  only  one  of  that  kind.  Most 
of  them  were  under  the  direction  of  experienced  and 
resolute  men,  whose  guidance  and  courageous  exam- 
ples were  an  incentive  to  a  like  spirit  among  those 
upon  whom  they  depended  for  assistance.  The 
women  of  the  times,  like  their  husbands  and  brothers, 


332  OLD    YORK 

were  fertile  in  resource  and  abundant  in  heroic  spirit. 
There  were  in  Wells  perhaps  a  half  dozen  of  these 
strongholds;  in  York  twice  as  many.  In  Kittery 
there  were  perhaps  as  many  as  in  York  and  Wells 
together.  But  the  scene  of  these  butcheries  was  soon 
to  be  shifted  from  the  rim  of  these  settlements  to 
their  centres. 

York  was  a  considerable  place,  possessed  of  local 
prominence  m  the  province.  Its  people  were  pros- 
perous and  of  an  intelligent  and  progressive  char- 
acter. The  prestige  of  old  Gorgeana  still  attached 
to  it,  and  as  a  settlement  of  the  earliest  days  it  pos- 
sessed a  stability  that  was  well  represented  by  the 
Se walls  and  other  families  of  like  scholarly  pretensions. 
This  was  what  would  have  been  the  conclusion  of 
the  observer  on  the  fourth  day  of  February  of  1692. 
By  sunrise  of  the  following  day  the  old  town  was  in 
ashes  and  practically  destroyed,  and  of  its  population 
one  hundred  and  fifty  had  fallen  by  the  tomahawk 
or  had  been  carried  into  captivity  toward  Canada. 

The  winter  had  been  a  severe  one;  the  snow  lay 
deep,  and  the  drifts  were  piling  higher  every  day. 
Along  the  white  sea  of  the  cleared  lands  stood  the 
dark  green  of  the  woodland  agamst  the  sky,  that  with 
the  coming  of  the  winter  season  had  lost  its  sinister 
suggestion.  In  these  days  of  deepening  cold  it  could 
afford  but  little  of  comfort  or  safety  to  the  lurking 
savage  who  found  its  leafy  coverts  in  summer  so  con- 
venient to  his  ideas  of  warfare.  With  no  likelihood  of 
ambush,  of  treacherous  musket  shot  or  predatory 
force,  the  settlers  had  lapsed  into  a  feeling  of  mid- 


OLD    YORK  333 

winter  security.  There  were  signs  of  dawn  along  the 
eastern  sky.  Here  or  there,  perhaps,  an  isolated 
thread  of  smoke  unwound  its  spiral  mystery  from  off 
the  spindle  of  the  cabin  chimney,  as  its  dweller  had 
raked  open  the  coals  of  his  rude  hearth.  Otherwise 
the  settlement  was  wrapped  in  slumber.  The  sharp 
report  of  a  musket  shot  broke  the  frosty  quiet  —  the 
signal  for  simultaneous  attack  upon  the  scattered 
houses  of  York.  There  was  no  time  for  all  to  reach 
the  garrisons,  yet  perhaps  one  half  succeeded  in  so 
doing.  The  savages  had  come  in  upon  snow-shoes, 
like  dusky  spectres;  an  hour  later  every  house  out- 
side the  four  block  houses  was  in  ashes,  and  the 
Indians  and  French  had  drifted  away  with  their 
human  prey  as  noiselessly  as  they  had  come.  This 
was  York's  first  savage  visitation  of  any  importance, 
and  its  desolation  was  supreme. 

It  was  during  the  winter  of  1692  that  the  Indians 
hovered  about  the  settlements  of  southeastern  Maine, 
to  the  great  terror  of  the  settlers,  but  York  at  that 
time  had  not  been  scourged  to  its  utmost.  There 
was  always  a  feeling  of  security  with  the  deepening 
of  the  winter  snows,  and  the  settlers  relaxed  some- 
what of  their  usual  vigilance.  The  woodland  was 
clogged  with  repeated  snowfalls;  but  one  morning 
young  Bragdon  left  the  York  hamlet  to  go  into  the 
forest  upon  some  errand  of  need,  or  perhaps  to  look 
after  his  traps.  Making  his  way  softly  among  the 
bent  foliage  of  the  evergreens,  he  came,  much  to  his 
surprise,  upon  a  stack  of  snow-shoes.  A  granite 
boulder  marks  the  place.     A  single  glance  sharpened 


334 


OLD    YORK 


his  wits,  and  their  Indian  fashioning  was  sufficiently 
convincing.  He  immediately  retraced  his  way, 
floundering  through  the  snow-smothered  under- 
growth of  brush,  making  speed  for  Indian  Head  as 
the  nearest  hiding-place.  He  gained  the  shelter  of 
the  rocks,  and  while  regaining  his  wind  discovered 
an  Indian  dog  nosing  at  his  heels.     The  cur's  muzzle 


SNOW-SHOE    ROCK 


was  tied  with  thongs  to  prevent  the  animal  from 
giving  tongue,  and  thereby  betray  the  presence  of 
the  savage  horde  undoubtedly  at  his  back.  Young 
Bragdon  again  fled,  making  for  the  river,  which  he 
followed,  the  dog  still  trailing  after.  Fear  lent  wings 
to  his  feet,  and  he  kept  on  until  he  found  a  boat  into 
which  he  leapt,  and  was  soon  across  the  river.  The 
Smith  cabin  was  close  by,  and  as  he  fell  across  its 
threshold,  he  told  his  tale  breathlessly,  and  the  alarm 


OLD    YORK  335 

was  given,  so  that  those  on  the  south  side  of  the  river 
escaped.  A  moment  later  and  the  whoops  of  the 
Indians  echoed  across  the  stream.  The  attack 
had  begun.  Few  settlers  on  the  east  side  escaped. 
Among  those  who  got  away  was  young  Jeremiah 
Moulton,  who  afterward,  with  Captain  Harmon, 
planned  the  raid  on  Norridgewack,  in  1724,  which 
resulted  in  the  death  of  Rasle  and  the  destruction 
of  that  nest  of  conspiracy. 

There  was  safety  nowhere.  Danger  lurked  within 
the  shadows  of  every  hedge  or  weed-garnished  fence. 
After  a  time  the  settlers  made  a  practice  of  carrying 
the  gun,  and  while  thus  armed  were  seldom  attacked. 
The  savage  was  wary.  His  first  care  was  to  avoid 
personal  injury  to  himself.  Next  to  that  were  the 
scalps,  the  number  of  them,  and  the  importance  of 
their  former  owners;  and  to  the  accomplishment  of 
these,  the  settlement  must  not  be  alarmed.  To  attack 
an  armed  settler  was  to  provoke  a  conflict;  a  musket 
shot  in  those  days  was  a  danger  signal  that  sent  the 
women  and  children  to  the  garrisons  and  the  men  to 
scouring  the  woods  for  the  cause.  As  the  days  went 
the  settler  lost  his  fear  of  the  Indian.  He  fought  him 
as  he  would  a  wild  beast,  in  self-defence,  until  the 
Indian  found  in  the  pale-face  the  hunter  for  the 
hunted.  So  the  savage  preferred  the  silent  axe,  or 
the  knife,  sped  on  its  fatal  mission  in  the  hesitation 
of  a  terror-stricken  surprise.  It  was  in  this  way  that 
two  years  after  the  tragedy  of  York,  the  savages 
betrayed  their  presence  about  Spruce  Creek,  when 
three  settlers,  two  men  and  a  woman,  were  slain  in 


336  OLD    YORK 

the  field  while  laboring  amid  their  crops.  Four  days 
afterward  eight  others  were  killed  and  scalped  at 
Long  Reach.  Capt.  Joseph  Hammond  went  across 
lots  in  search  of  a  stray  cow  that  had  failed  to  come 
up  with  the  herd  the  next  day.  He  found  the  cow 
and  the  Indians  foimd  Captain  Hammond.  It  was  a 
savage  ruse,  and  after  lying  in  the  open  on  Raitt's 
Hill  over  night,  securely  bound,  his  captors  took 
him  along  w^ith  them,  after  an  unsuccessful  assault 
upon  his  garrison. 

Here  is  the  quaint  relation  of  the  matter  by  Captain 
Frost,  who  was  a  party  to  "Waldron's  Ruse,"  and 
who  in  less  than  two  years  was  to  follow  Major 
Waldron,  though  not  in  so  brutal  and  bloodthirsty 
a  fashion. 

Frost's  letter  bears  date,  Sept.  7th,  1695. 

"  On  Lords  day  last  the  enemie  alarmed  Wels  by 
shotting  of  many  guns  in  the  woods  nere  the  garisons; 
on  Monday  A  party  of  Souldiers  from  Berwick  & 
York  went  out,  noe  signe  of  them,  only  secerall 
Cowes  wanting  that  were  wont  to  Com  home.  On 
Wensday  mornmg  last  the  Indianes  beset  Capt. 
Hammonds  garison  at  Kittery,  a  bout  thirty  of 
them  as  they  Judge,  wonded  one  man  in  the  garison 
throu  both  thies.  they  being  Close  imder  the  garri- 
son, put  his  gun  throu  a  Little  Craves  of  the  polosa- 
does,  there  being  but  fower  menn  in  the  garison  at 
that  time:  they  beete  them  of  Soe  they  went  a  waie 
into  the  woods,  Carrying  a  waie  three  of  thire  wonded 
menn.  Left  behind  them  a  french  pistol,  hatchet, 
a  small  bag  in  which  was  his  beads,  Cruisefix,  Ahna- 


OLD    YORK 


337 


nick,  &  som  other  trumperey;  leaving  much  blood 
behind  them  a  bout  the  garison.  The  same  day  they 
were  on  the  upper  end  of  York,  and  a  bout  the  Same 
number:  our  menu  have  bin  rangin  the  woods: 
Cannot  meete  with  them:  som  scoulking  Indian  have 
bin  sen  since  in  our  towne:  guns  heard  go  of  in  the 


if 


OLD    CONCORD    BRIDGE 


woods:  this  I  thought  it  my  Duty  to  Informe  yo'r 
Honour:" 

July  4,  1697,  came  on  the  Sabbath,  but  the 
bell-ringers  of  Philadelphia  had  not  at  that  time 
cracked  the  Liberty  Bell  to  round  out  the  historic 
episode  of  Concord  Bridge.  There  was  a  church  at 
Great  Works,  on  what  was  called  in  the  ancient  deeds 
Little  Newichawannick  River.  It  was  here  that 
Chadbourne,  Mason's  agent,  in  1634  built  the  first 
mills  in  the  new  province  of  Maine.     After  Mason 


338  OLD    YORK 

died,  and  Francis  Norton  had  driven  off  the  cattle 
to  Boston,  and  the  servants  had  completed  the  strip- 
ping of  the  estate,  the  mills  lapsed  into  disuse  and 
decay.  Nothing  was  done  here  after  that  until  1651, 
when  the  towii  vested  in  Richard  and  George  Leader, 
the  use  of  the  water-power  and  the  lands  on  either 
side  of  the  river  within  a  ciuarter  of  a  mile.  George 
Leader  settled  here  the  same  year.  Ten  years  after, 
Joseph  Mason  brought  a  suit  for  damages  in  the 
Norfolk  County  Court  against  Richard,  "for  build- 
ing and  erecting  certaine  houses  on  our  lands  at 
Newitchewanick  ...  &  for  cutting  downe  our 
tymber  there  to  erect  a  saw  mill  in  our  Antitnt  pos- 
sessed place  whereon  wee  formerly  began  and  doe 
intende  to  pceedinye  like  worke  imeadiately."  The 
Leaders  had  built  a  serviceable  saw  mill  and  put 
in  the  first  gang-saw  ever  seen  hereabout.  There 
were  nineteen  saws  in  the  gang,  which  created  great 
wonderment,  so  that  the  neighborhood  described  the 
mill  as  a  place  where  "great  workes"  were  to  be  done. 
So  the  place  became  generally  known  as  Great  Works ; 
and  the  name  attached  itself  to  the  river  as  well. 
One  finds  it  so  recorded  in  the  records  of  the  town 
as  early  as  1663. 

Eighteen  years  after  the  building  of  this  mill,  its 
projectors  were  dead.  The  over-shot  mill-wheels  were 
silent,  and  the  stream  began  to  run  free  once  more. 
Here  is  the  inventory,  made  in  1669,  as  one  will  see 
by  a  glance  at  the  York  records  —  "  A  broaken  house 
ready  to  fall,  &  a  barne  much  out  of  repayre,  two 
orchards  without  fence  with  a  Tract  of  Lands  lijing 


OLD    YORK 


oo; 


on  both  sides  the  River  esteemed  at  foure  hundred 
Acers  more  or  less  granted  by  the  Town,  Meddow  at 
Tottanocke  &  at  boabissa  pond,  &  Whittes  &  Parkers 
Marsh,  the  broaken  mill  with  the  Irons  &  Vtensills, 
the  Falls  &  Tymber  grant,  the  Smyths  shopp  with 
bellows   Anvell,    beckhorne   vice   Sledg   Hannner   & 


STURGEON    CREEK    WAREHOUSE 


some  ould  Irons,  ffoure  halfe  hundred  weightts,  An 
Iron  beame,  an  ould  Copper  &  an  ould  kettle,  &  two 
ould  Iron  potts,"  all  of  the  value  of  £493. 

This  was  old  Quamphegan,  better  knowTi  in  these 
hurrying  days,  as  South  Berwick.  It  was  here  that 
church  s  rvice  was  first  inaugurated,  for  John  Mason 
sent  over  with  his  pioneer  colonists  (which  was  in 
1631),  a  communion  set,  also  a  "great  Bible  and 
twelve  Service  Books."  The  service  was  of  the 
Episcopalian  order,  and  I  have  no  doul^t  but  the  ser- 


340  OLD    YORK 

vice  of  the  Church  was  read,  and  that  the  laborers 
joined  in  the  saying  of  the  responses  and  the  creed 
with  bowed  heads  and  an  accompanying  reverence. 
As  early  as  1640  fines  were  imposed  for  such  viola- 
tions of  the  Sabbath  as  occurred,  which  may  be  taken 
as  an  indication  of  the  sanctity  with  which  this  day 
was  thus  early  clothed. 

This,  in  1668,  was  known  as  the  parish  of  Unity. 
Stackpole  concludes  that  the  first  meeting-house  here 
was  built  about  1659;  but  the  service  seems  to  have 
been  of  a  somewhat  desultory  character,  as  this 
parish  was  presented  to  the  court  four  several  times 
in  as  many  years,  ''for  not  providing  a  minister." 

It  was  from  this  old  church  that  Captain  Frost  was 
returning  on  that  summer  morning  of  1697,  in  com- 
pany with  Dennis  Downing,  Jolm  Heard  and  his 
wife  Phoebe.  They  had  reached  a  point  in  the  bridle- 
path of  those  days,  opposite  a  huge  boulder,  which 
was  about  a  mile  away  to  the  north  from  the  Frost 
garrison  house.  The  sharp  reports  of  three  gmis 
broke  the  silence.  Captain  Frost  and  Downing  were 
killed  instantly.  The  Heard  woman,  although 
sorely  wounded,  tried  to  regain  her  saddle  but 
was  unable  to  do  so.  Falling  back  into  the  path, 
Spartan-like  she  urged  her  husband  to  ride  for  the 
cabin  and  place  the  children  in  safetj^,  which  he  did, 
notwithstanding  the  savages  chased  him  and  shot 
his  horse  under  him  just  as  he  got  to  the  garrison. 
He  saved  his  house  and  his  children.  Heard  was 
a  great  Indian  fighter,  and  the  Indians  were  desirous 
to  obtain    his  scalp.     They  lurked  about  his  place 


OLD    YORK 


341 


to  finally  come  across  him  in  the  woods.  Heard  ran 
and  the  Indians  gave  chase.  He  remembered  a 
hollow  log  in  the  woods  and  made  for  that,  into 
which  he  crept,  thereby  evading  his  pursuers.  He 
had  killed  his  dog,  so  he  might  not  be  betrayed  by 


.15? 


//^^/ 


^^ 


AMBUSH    ROCK 


that  faithlul  animal,  and  while  thus  concealed  the 
savages  came  to  the  log.  Here  they  sat  down  to 
get  their  wmd,  and  he  listened  to  what  they  would 
do  to  John  Heard  when  they  caught  him. 

The  body  of  Frost  was  decently  buried,  and  the 
night  after  these  ghouls  of  the  woods  had  opened  the 


342  OLD   YORK 

grave  and  taken  the  body  to  the  crest  of  Frost's  Hill 
and  impaled  it  upon  a  stake.  Such  was  their  hatred 
of  the  man  who  helped  to  plan  and  carry  out  the 
trick  which  has  come  down  in  history  as  AYaldron's 
Ruse.  This  boulder  still  cleaves  to  its  pasture  side 
and  is  known  as  Ambush  Rock. 

Both  Waldron  and  Frost  paid  their  debt  dearly. 
For  the  next  year  there  were  a  half-dozen  isolated 
cases  of  savage  assault  and  butchery  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Spruce  Creek;  and  then  came  a  period  of 
peace  that  lasted  about  four  years,  wdien  the  conflict 
known  as  Queen  Anne's  War  began,  and  Kittery  was 
again  infested.  The  previous  depredations  had  im- 
poverished the  old  town.  A  severe  drain  had  been 
made  upon  its  man  and  womanhood.  Many  had 
been  killed  or  carried  into  captivity.  Property  had 
been  destroyed;  houses  and  barns  and  cattle  in  con- 
siderable numbers  had  been  swept  away.  Wher- 
ever religious  services  were  had,  the  rattle  of  the 
musket  stock  could  be  heard  against  the  rude  floors; 
the  men  as  they  went  to  and  from  church  carried 
their  guns,  while  the  good  wife  carried  her  Bible. 

On  one  of  the  last  days  of  the  first  month,  1704,  a 
mornmg  attack  was  made  on  the  Andrew  Neal  garri- 
son. Captain  Brown,  who  was  in  charge,  made  a  vig- 
orous defence,  and  the  Indians  w^ere  repulsed  with 
some  loss.  A  girl  was  killed,  a  boy  was  shot,  but  got 
away.  Several  houses  were  burned  and  many  cattle 
destroyed.  Penhallow  says  nine  Indians  were  killed 
"on  the  spot,"  and  many  more  were  woimded. 

In  the  following  May  a  descent  was  made  on  Spruce 


OLD   YORK  343 

Creek,  in  which  York  was  inckicled,  but  this  was 
about  the  last  inroad  of  a  serious  character  until  1712, 
when  twenty-six  persons  were  killed  or  carried  away 
captive  in  Wells,  York,  and  Kittery.  It  was  a  desul- 
tory warfare,  and  difficult  to  oppose  successfully, 
owmg  to  the  character  of  the  offending  savage.  After 
the  attack  on  York,  in  1692,  the  savages  do  not  seem 
to  have  been  accompanied  by  the  French.  The  de- 
vastations committed  after  that  date  seem  to  have 
been  the  work  of  small  parties  of  roving  Indians, 
whose  glut  of  blood  and  fire  was  apparently  never  to 
be  satisfied;  and  it  is  to  the  zeal  of  the  French  Jesuits 
at  Norridgewack  and  on  the  Penobscot  that  this 
savage  deviltry  and  fiendish  butchering  of  women 
and  children,  this  half-century  reign  of  terror  to  the 
settler,  is  chargeable.  As  late  as  1745  the  settlers 
carried  their  gmis  as  they  went  to  divine  service;  and 
almost  every  third  house  had  been  made  over  into  a 
garrison.  There  is  hardly  a  headland,  point,  or  re- 
cess of  shore  along  the  York  coast  that  has  not  its 
tradition  or  legend  of  Indian  foray.  If  one  should  try 
to  relate  them  all,  an  ordinary  volume  would  not  suf- 
fice. It  was  a  lurid  stage,  and  the  scenes  shifted  with 
the  hands  on  the  clock  face,  from  the  somid  of  the 
moanmg  tide  to  the  purling  of  some  woodland  brook ; 
from  the  clustered  roofs  of  York  hamlet  to  the  iso- 
lated cabin  in  the  wilds  of  Quamphegan.  .  A  new  act 
was  ushered  in  with  every  new  scene,  and  the  tragedy 
went  on  amid  a  chorus  of  discordant  yells,  intermit- 
tent musket  shots,  and  the  riotous  crackling  of  burn- 
ing houses. 


344  OLD   YORK 

York  and  Kittery  were  communities  of  fortified 
houses,  and  at  last  the  colonial  government  gave  as 
high  as  fifty  pounds  bounty  for  a  single  Indian  scalp, 
and  at  an  ultimate  cost  of  above  a  thousand  pounds. 
Utter  extermination  of  the  Indian  became  the  recog- 
nized policy  of  the  colony. 

Old  York  did  not  suffer  in  proportion  as  did  the 
settlements  about  it.  Wells,  on  the  northeast,  took 
the  brunt  in  that  direction;  on  the  south  and  west 
Kittery  and  Berwick  extended  a  sheltering  barrier. 
North  of  Berwick  was  a  wilderness  which  made  a 
most  convenient  covert  for  the  predatory  and  cow- 
ardly savage,  from  which  he  could  emerge  and  to 
which  he  could  as  swiftly  retire  after  having  wreaked 
his  vengeance,  to  be  practically  beyond  pursuit. 
In  the  later  years  of  the  Indian  warfare,  pursuits 
were  organized  and  relentlessly  persisted  in.  The 
settler  once  having  learned  the  trick,  fought  the 
Indian  after  his  own  fashion,  and  with  a  fair  meed  of 
success,  and  the  latter  became  more  cautious  in  ex- 
posing himself  to  the  imerring  bead  of  the  settler's 
rifle. 

Here  at  York,  in  1750,  and  where  the  old  j^arsonage 
stood,  was  a  picketed  fort,  flanked  by  bastions,  and 
which  offered  a  formidable  exterior.  Elsewhere 
about  the  town  were  other  forts  and  numerous  forti- 
fied houses  that  offered  but  slender  prospect  of  suc- 
cessful inroad.  York's  geographical  situation  was 
fortunate;  and  with  the  raid  upon  Cape  Neddock  in 
1676,  when  all  the  settlers  were  killed  or  carried 
away  captive,  some  forty  or  more,  the  surprise  of 


OLD    YORK 


345 


York  in  1692,  the  empty  alarm  of  1700,  and  the  in- 
cursion of  1712,  with  an  isolated  butchery  in  adjacent 
localities,  the  tragedies  of  York  are  historically  enum- 
erated. 

The  hatred  of  the  Indian  for  those  who  bore  the 
name  of  Harmon  was  proverbial  and  inveterate,  as 


WHERE    HARMON    MASSACRED    THE    INDIANS 


it  was  to  all  such  as  had  at  any  time  offered  affront  to 
the  race.  This  enmity  toward  the  Harmons,  and,  by 
the  way,  the  Harmons  were  all  good  Indian  fighters 
and  Indian  haters,  had  its  foundation  in  what  was 
kno\^^l  as  the  "Harmon  Massacre,"  which  occurred 
in  the  earlier  days  of  the  York  settlement.  The 
tradition  is,  that  there  was  an  old  rookery  in  earlier 
York  known  as  the  Stacey  house.     It  was  located 


346 


OLD   YORK 


near  the  gouthwest  end  of  Parish  Creek  Bridge,  and 
on  the  crest  of  the  hill  which  overlooks  this  stream. 
Emery  notes  that  it  had  many  legends  connected 
v/ith  its  history,  but  of  them  all,  I  have  but  this  one. 
He  describes  it  as' a  quaint  "old  wooden  structure, 
abounding  in  projections  and  sharp  angles,  with  an 
enormous  chimney  in  its  center,  resting  on  the  de- 


SITE    OF    THE    OLD    STAGEY    HOUSE 


clivity  of  a  hill."  The  house  was  at  the  upper  end  of 
the  mill-pond,  where  vessels  were  wont  to  come  in 
until  the  dam  was  stretched  across  the  stream  below. 
The  man,  Stacey,  who  lived  here,  was  an  officer  under 
the  famous  Paul  Jones;  and  the  lower  portion  was 
reputed  to  have  been  used  as  a  trading-place  as  early 
as  1630.  When  the  house  was  demolished  in  1870 
a  human  skeleton  was  found  under  the  hearth. 
It  was  said  by  some,  to  have  been  one  of  Harmon's 


OLD   YORK 


347 


Indians,   which  gives   this   digression   something  of 
interest. 

The  Harmons  Hved  dovm  by  the  sea  on  the  lower 
side  of  the  settlement.  The  men  were  of  seafaring 
habit,  hardy  and  vigorous  in  physique,  and  of  great 
personal  courage.  On  one  of  their  sea  voyagings, 
and  while  they  were  absent  from  home,  a  party  of 
Indians  made  their  way  to  the  Harmon  cabin,  and 


STAGEY    (PARISH)    CREEK    BRIDGE 

while  there  conducted  themselves  after  an  unseemly 
fashion,  so  that  the  women  of  the  Harmon  house- 
hold took  serious  offence.  When  the  men  came  in 
from  their  trip,  the  women,  still  incensed  at  the 
untoward  behavior  of  the  savages,  related  the  occur- 
lence,  with  the  result  that  the  culprits  and  some  of 
their  friends  of  the  tribe  were  invited  to  a  "powwow" 
on  the  point  near  the  old  Barrelle  mill-dam.    The 


348  OLD   YORK 

Indians  came,  and  what  with  eating  and  drinking 
of  rum  a  great  debauch  ensued,  and  which,  accord- 
ing to  the  tradition,  lasted  into  the  night.  After 
getting  the  Indians  into  a  drunken  stupor,  the  Har- 
mons killed  their  guests  to  a  man. 

The  next  dawn  ushered  in  the  Sabbath,  meanwhile 
the  tidings  "flew  the  town,"  and  Father  Moody  made 
the  tragic  episode  the  subject  of  his  morning  discourse 
in  part;  and  like  Elijah,  he  prophesied  in  his  righteous 
wrath,  that  the  Harmon  name  would  disappear  from 
among  men.  It  may  have  so  happened  in  York, 
but  elsewhere  the  name  is  common  and  of  good 
repute.  This  tragic  episode  happened  in  close  prox- 
imity to  the  old  Stacey  house,  and  in  a  degree  is 
attached  to  it  as  part  and  parcel  of  its  traditions. 

The  name  of  Harmon  will  go  down  with  the  endur- 
ing history  of  the  raid  upon  Norridgewack,  and  the 
death  of  Rasle,  and  the  consequent  destruction  of 
that  nest  of  conspiracy  against  the  English  settler. 
One  story  is  often  related  of  Harmon  of  Norridge- 
wack fame,  and  who  was  for  many  years  the  dread 
of  the  Tarratmes  and  Norridgewacks,  when  their 
sharpened  hearing  was  alert  with  the  query, 

"  Steals  Harmon  down  from  the  sands  of  York, 
With  hand  of  iron,  and  foot  of  cork  ?" 

He  was  conducting  an  expedition  up  the  Kenne- 
bec; like  himself,  his  party  of  rangers  were  trained 
Indian-fighters.  Their  progress  was  slow  and  cau- 
tious. His  foe  was  as  keen  of  eye,  as  acute  of  ear, 
and  as  soft  of    footfall  as  a  wood-cat.     Single  file, 


OLD    YORK  349 

they  threaded  the  dim  woods,  cutting  the  shadows 
of  the  foliage  with  a  vision  as  keen  as  the  edge  of  a 
knife,  stiUing  the  beats  of  their  hearts  as  they  lis- 
tened, and  then  came  the  smell  of  a  wood  fire.  It 
was  like  the  silken  strand  of  Ariadne  to  lead  Harmon 
straight  to  the  Minotaur  of  these  wilderness  woods. 
Harmon  and  his  men  kept  to  the  trail  of  the  smoke, 
and  parting  the  underbrush  he  saw  twenty  Indians 
stretched  upon  the  leaves,  asleep.  The  light  of  their 
fire  betrayed  them.  Mute  signs  from  Harmon  indi- 
cated his  plan,  and  a  moment  later  twenty  muskets 
sent  their  messengers  of  death  abroad,  and  the  sav- 
ages, every  one,  had  crossed  into  the  Happy  Hunting- 
grounds. 

Old  York  to\\7i  has  always  been  notable  for  its 
high  and  generous  sense  of  public  duty,  its  loyalty 
to  right,  and  its  patriotism.  In  1772  the  freemen 
of  York  met  to  deliberate  upon  the  action  of  the 
mother  country  in  matters  of  taxation,  and  to  pro- 
test against  such  infringement  on  personal  rights. 
The  result  was  a  lively  protest.  In  January,  1774, 
they  protested  more  vigorously  yet.  In  October 
following  they  made  a  substantial  contribution  to 
the  poor  of  Boston.  On  June  5,  1776,  the  men  of 
York  voted  to  pledge  their  persons  and  their  money 
to  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  should  the  Con- 
tinental Congress  declare  such  to  be  th^  final  course 
of  action. 

The  news  of  Lexington  reached  old  York  in  the 
evening  of  April  20,  1775.  There  was  not  a  minute- 
man  in  town.      Twentv-four  hours  later  there  were 


350  OLD   YORK 

sixty-three  such,  and  accoutred  with  guns  and  sup- 
plies, they  were  across  the  Piscataqua  before  dusk, 
and  were  hurrying  on  to  Boston.  That  April  night 
when  the  post-rider  came  in  from  Boston  with  his 
stirring  news  was  a  memorable  one.  He  left  his 
horse  and  his  message,  and  upon  a  fresh  mount,  sped 
away  to  the  eastern  towns,  as  did  Paul  Revere 
through  the  Fells  of  Middlesex,  arousing  the  silence 
of  the  night  with  his  startling  cry,   ''To  arms!  To 


3UNKER    HILL    AFTER    THE    FIGHT 


arms!"  while  the  rest  of  his  story  trai'ed  through 
the  dust  behind,  to  be  read  by  the  light  of  the  sparks 
from  the  hoofs  of  his  flying  steed. 

Johnson  Moulton  was  the  leader  of  this  company, 
the  first  raised  in  the  Maine  province,  and  to 
York  must  be  given  the  honorable  distinction  of  so 
notable  an  activity.  Moulton  was  a  prominent  man 
in  York.  He  knew  something  of  warfare,  having 
been  a  captain  in  the  French  and  ndian  conflict. 
Undoubtedly  it  was  his  activity  in  former  times  of 
stres?  and  hi^  local    influence  that   enabled  him  to 


OLD   YORK 


351 


gather  so  many  of  the  sons  of  York  in  so  limited 
a  space.  After  his  return  from  Boston  he  was  lieu- 
tenant-colonel in  Col.  James  Scammon's  regiment. 
He  was  in  the  siege  of  Boston,  imder  Col.  William 
Prescott,  and  later  in  the  Long  Island  campaign, 
under  Gen.  Nat.  Greene.  After  the  War  of  the 
Revolution  had  closed  he  was  sheriff  of  his  county 
Like  many  a  patriot  whose  deeds  have    made  the 


A    RELIC    OF    ANCIENT    TRADING    DAYS 

fame  of  others  secure,  Moulton  is  forgotten,  except 
as  he  may  be  recalled  by  some  scant  mention  of  his 
name  where  it  may  chance  to  be.  Only  the  anti- 
quary or  the  historian  can  tell  one  that  such  an 
individual  ever  lived. 

Just  across  from  Warehouse  Point  is  Jaffrey's,  or 
Fort  Point,  where  Capt.  Jolm  Mason  m  the  early 
days  of  the  Gorges  and  Mason  occupation  caused  a 
fortification  to  be  erected  where  ten  cannon  were 
moimted   in    1666.     This    armament   was   of   brass 


352  OLD   YORK 

ordnance,  contributed  by  the  merchants  of  London. 
Later  a  new  fort  was  erected  here,  and  it  was  this 
fort  that  was  captured  by  the  "Liberty  Boys"  of 
Portsmouth  a  day  or  two  after  Paul  Revere  made 
his  famous  midnight  ride  through  the  Fehs  of  Middle- 
sex. These  "rebels"  carried  off  its  armament  and 
its  munitions  of  war,  and  out  of  these,  one  hundred 
barrels  of  the  king's  powder  were  sent  to  the  Boston 
provincials,  who  distributed  it  hot,  with  great  en- 
thusiasm, to  the  Red  Coats  at  Bunker  Hill.  This 
empty  fort  was  soon  after  reoccupied  by  the  British, 
but  in  1775  it  was  abandoned  by  them  voluntarily. 
The  present  lonely  and  dismantled  Fort  Constitu- 
tion was  built,  partly  on  the  foundation  of  the  original 
provincial  fortification.  Near  this  is  a  curious  cairn 
of  brick,  a  ruin  it  is,  that  has  the  flavor  of  mediaeval 
days,  and  reminds  one  of  feudal  times  and  moated 
castles.  It  is  commonly  known  as  the  Martelle 
Tower,  as  it  is  modelled  after  that  fashion.  A  closer 
inspection  will  show  casemated  embrasures,  and  if 
one  clambers  over  the  debris  that  fills  its  entrance  a 
small  magazine  will  be  discovered.  Its  builder  was 
John  DeBarth  Walbach;  before  that  an  officer  in 
Prince  Maximilian's  Royal  Alsace  Regiment.  In 
after  years  he  was  the  commander  of  this  fort.  This 
tower  mounted  one  gun,  which  seemed  to  be  suffi- 
ciently effective,  as  no  attack  was  ever  made  on  the 
place.  It  is  a  quaint  relic  of  the  early  days  hereabout, 
when  the  great  Pepperrell  estate  had  been  confis- 
cated, and  when  most  of  the  early  settlers  of  York 
and  Kittery  had  become  traditions.     When  the  sea 


OLD   YORK  ooo 

is  still  aromid  Jeffrey's  Point,  the  old  tower  is  renewed 
in  its  emerald  deeps,  and  as  one  looks  at  its  pictured 
sombreness,  one  expects  to  hear  the  sharp  challenge 
of  its  sentinel  long  ago  silenced. 

But  our  fire  is  getting  low,  and  the  night  is  counting 
its  way  along  by  increasing  strokes.  If  one  is  to 
stay  here  longer  beside  the  ancient  Junkins  hearth, 
another  pitchloiot  must  go  on  the  fire.  I  wonder  if 
that  woman  with  the  letter  A  on  her  sleeve  is  here. 
Some  of  our  visitors  have  slipped  out  noiselessly,  but 
others  have  dropped  into  their  places,  so  one  has  not 
missed  them.  Now  I  remember  it,  the  last  I  saw 
of  Betty  Booker  she  had  mounted  the  back  of  Skipper 
Perkins  and  was  making  off  in  the  direction  of 
Se wall's  Bridge.  Over  m  the  corner  where  I  thought 
I  saw  Mclntire  and  his  two  cronies,  and  caught  some- 
thing of  the  story  of  the  devil-dighted  Trickey,  is 
naught  but  the  dancing  of  shadows  up  and  down  the 
wall;  even  the  table  of  deal  and  the  steaming  stoup 
of  rum  have  disappeared.  The  woman  of  the  red 
letter  has  drawn  up  to  tha  fire,  so  I  get  a  fair  glimpse 
of  her  troubled  features.  They  are  fair  enough,  but 
there  is  a  suggestion  of  sullenness  and  defiance,  as  if 
she  had  not  yet  forgotten  the  taunts  and  jeers  that 
beset  her  unwillmg  ears  as  she  stood  in  pillory  on 
that  day  of  long  ago. 

There  is  a  swift  flooding  of  this  old  livmg-room 
with  a  flare  of  flame,  and  the  ear  catches  off  to  the 
westward  the  muttering  of  the  storm  spirit;  a  low 
rumbling  of  thunder  that  throbs  and  beats  brokenly 
along  the  upper  marge  of  Spruce  Creek  over  Kittery 


354 


OLD   YORK 


way.  There  is  a  dash  of  rain  on  the  roof,  whose 
worn  thatch  of  shingle  is  so  thoroughly  weather- 
seasoned  that  each,  like  the  belly  of  a  violin,  responds 
audibly  to  the  touch  of  the  rain  or  even  the  noise- 
less footfalls  of  the  wind.  They  are  like  sounding- 
boards,  to  repeat  with  a  monodic  vibration  all  the 
notes  in  the  gamut  of  Nature.  I  look  out  the  sea- 
ward window,  that  is  more  like  a  port-hole  than  any- 
thing else,  and  Boon  Island  Light  flashes  its  ruddy 


BOON    ISLAND    LIGHT 


flame  over  the  waste  of  waters  between,  to  dwindle 
to  a  red  stain  on  the  gathering  murk,  as  the  rhythm 
of  the  rain  on  the  roof  begins  to  mark  time  with 
thickened  beat. 

This  light  tower  was  built  in  1811.  With  that  in 
mind  I  recalled  that  it  was  one  hundred  and  one 
years  before  that  that  the  Nottingham  galley,  a 
hundred  and  twenty  ton  vessel,  carrying  ten  gims, 
and  a  ship's  complement  of  fourteen  men,  went  to 
pieces  on  its  ragged  rocks  the  night  of  December  11. 


OLD   YORK  355 

It  was  in  the  midst  of  a  wintry  gale  that  John  Dean, 
master,  reached  this  part  of  the  coast,  on  his  way 
to  Boston.  The  Nottingham  had  come  from  London, 
and  a  day's  sail,  with  a  fair  wind,  would  have  taken 
Dean  into  port;  but  that  was  not  to  be.  The  gale 
drove  him  off  his  course.  The  sky  was  thick  with 
rain,  snow,  and  hail,  and  the  storm  swooped  down 
from  the  northeast  with  increasing  fury,  to  choke 
and  smother  the  night  into  impenetrable  obscurity. 

Boon  Island  is  seven  miles  off  shore  from  Cape 
Neddock,  the  nearest  mainland.  It  is  a  low  reef  of 
ledge,  submerged  in  heavy  storms,  so  the  keepers  of 
the  light  are  driven  into  the  tower  for  safety.  Boon 
Island  Ledge  is  three  miles  farther  out,  and  is  one  of 
the  most  dangerous  reefs  on  the  coast.  It  was  here 
on  Boon  Island  that  the  Nottingham  struck.  All  of 
the  men  got  to  the  rock  safely,  but  before  morning 
some  of  their  nimiber  had  succumbed  to  the  incle- 
mency of  the  season  and  the  exposure  incident  to 
their  shelterless  condition.  They  were  here  ma- 
rooned, as  it  were,  for  twenty-three  days,  without 
fire  or  food  other  than  that  afforded  by  the  bodies 
of  their  dead  companions,  which  they  were  forced  to 
consume  raw,  after  the  fashion  of  beasts  of  prey. 
Like  the  sailors  of  Ulysses  on  the  island  of  Circe 
they  became  transformed  into  brutes ;  and  on  January 
3,  1710,  when  they  were  finally  discovered  by  the  peo- 
ple on  the  York  shore,  and  taken  from  their  perilous 
situation,  they  were  so  emaciated  not  one  of  them 
could  stand  erect.  No  other  wTeck  of  such  horrible 
detail  has  occurred  off  the  York  coast. 


356  OLD   YORK 

Not  far  from  this  old  garrison  house  is  Roaring 
Rock,  where  there  were  fortifications  in  the  Revolu- 
tionary times.  There  was  a  fort  here  in  1812.  One 
can  see  their  scars  along  its  slopes  to  this  day.  There 
was  a  mythical  cave  under  Sentry  Hill,  in  which  are 
stowed  away  numerous  legends  ( f  pirates.  On 
Stage  Neck  was  a  beacon  in  the  early  days  which 
was  supported  upon  a  stout  pole.  Emery  relates 
a  humorous  tale  which  is  appurtenant  to  this  shore. 
One  dark  night  a  sloop  was  wrecked  here.  One  of 
the  survivors,  questioned  as  to  the  cause  of  the 
disaster,  replied:  "The  vessel  struck,  turned  over 
on  her  side,  and  the  skipper  and  another  barrel  of 
whiskey  rolled  overboard."  The  jury  brought  in 
their  verdict:  "We  find  that  the  deceased  fell  from 
the  masthead  and  was  killed;  he  rolled  overboard 
and  was  drowned;  he  floated  ashore  and  froze  to 
death,  and  the  rats  eat  hun  up  alive." 

And  no  wonder  the  poor  man  succumbed  to  his 
untoward  fate. 

Th'  fire  dulls,  but  I  upturn  the  brands  and  it 
breaks  out  once  more  into  a  lively  flame  to  light  up 
tliis  antiquated  interior  anew.  Perhaps  you  have 
never  seen  this  old  Junkins  garrison.  If  such  is  the 
fact,  let  me  tell  you  something  about  it,  and  when 
I  have  done,  perhaps  the  woman  with  the  scarlet 
letter  will  let  me  into  her  secret.  If  the  sun  were  up 
one  could  see  that  this  ancient  place  of  refuge  has 
a  wide  outlook.  From  its  vantage  point  of  hilltop 
the  river  and  the  lowlands  that  make  its  pleasant 
marge  are  in  sight.    The  lands  break  away  in  all 


OLD   YORK  357 

directions  in  these  days,  for  it  is  like  a  city  set  on  a 
hill  that  cannot  be  hid.  In  its  early  days  the  woods 
hereabout  were  more  compact, more  dense;  and  doubt- 
less the  view  was  not  so  charming  or  i-uggestively 
bucolic.  It  was,  however,  from  its  location  not 
easily  approachable  from  any  point,  without  dis- 
covery by  the  alert  sentmel,  who  it  is  not  milikely 
was  on  the  watch  for  savage  incursion  in  the  troublous 
times  that  held  this  region  for  almost  three  quarters 
of  a  century  in  bands  of  lively  terror  or  anxiety. 

It  is  an  old  rookery  as  one  sees  it  now,  and  the  rain 
and  snow  beat  in  upon  its  rough  floors,  and  the  winds 
make  weird  noises  as  they  search  out  the  nooks  and 
crannies  that  widen  with  the  years.  Its  huge  chim- 
ney and  its  great  square  lum-head  have  the  appear- 
ance of  great  stability  and  ancientness  of  construc- 
tion. It  must  date  from  somewhere  about  1640, 
though  some  annalists  do  not  accord  it  so  great  an 
age,  yet  it  must  have  been  contemporary  with  the 
buildmg  here  of  the  Mcln tires.  The  argument  is 
put  forward  that  this  early  date  is  not  to  be  accepted, 
because  the  Indian  outbreaks  did  not  occur  until 
many  years  after  the  middle,  even,  of  the  seven- 
teenth centuiy.  But  that  does  not  hold,  as  one  finds 
in  the  older  portions  of  Massachusetts  in  these  mod- 
ern days  relics  of  the  times  before  King  Philip's 
War  whose  style  of  architecture  is  similar  to  that  of 
th?se  York  garrison  houses.  They  have  the  same 
projecting  roofs  and  widely  ( verhanging  upper 
storias.  One  can  see  them  in  Boston,  of  which,  per- 
hap3,  the  most  notable  specimen  is  the  I  ouee  of  Paul 


358  OLD   YORK 

Revere,  on  old  Salem  Street.  Nor  is  there  anything 
unreasonable  in  ascribing  the  building  of  this  Junkins 
house  to  so  early  a  period,  though  Drake  is  inclined 
to  believe  otherwise.  These  early  settlers  but  fol- 
lowed the  style  of  the  old  houses  they  knew  in  the 
motherland,  except  that  perhaps  they  might  have 
been  of  larger  and  more  cuml^rous  construction. 

Its  great  chimney  is  a  curiosity  in  its  way;  and 
the  great  fireplace  that  even  now  disports  its  ancient 
crane,  and  the  great  timbers  that  everywhere  stick 
out  or  protrude  like  the  libs  of  a  lean  horse,  keep 
it  consistent  and  suggestive  companionship.  If  one 
should  happen  hither  of  a  tempestuous  night,  as  I 
have,  and  perchance  kindle  a  fire  upon  its  broken 
hearth,  they  might,  like  myself,  see  strange  sights 
and  hear  strange  and  uncouth  sounds.  If  one  had 
a  piece  of  aloes  and  the  magic  word  of  Gulnare,  this 
crackling  blaze  would  be  all  needed  to  bring  hither 
its  familiars  after  a  more  substantial  fashion  than 
the  vagaries  that  haunt  the  brain  after  the  intangible 
fashion  of  dreams  and  such  like  empty  imaginings. 
No  doubt  it  would  be  a  startling  experience,  yet  one 
is  not  entirely  free  from  his  sensing  of  the  uncanny, 
as  he  searches  the  footmarks  of  a  long-dead  race,  or 
listens,  with  a  stilled  breathing  wrapped  about  with 
the  thick  shadows  of  the  night  tide,  for  a  long-silent 
footfall. 

Tliis  old  Jimkins  garrison  is  a  forsaken  thing,  the 
quintessence  of  lonely  dejection,  at  least  in  appear- 
ance. 

But  my  fire  is  dowTi  once  more,  and  the  room  grows 


OLD   YORK  359 

gray.  It  is  the  gray  of  dusk.  The  rain  has  swept 
far  to  seawartl,  and  my  visitors  as  well  have  returned 
to  the  uncanny  seclusion  of  the  graveyards  here- 
about, all  except  this  strange  woman  with  the  scarlet 
letter.  As  the  light  of  the  fire  dies,  and  only  the 
blinking  embers  are  left,  that  letter  on  the  sleeve 
grows  more  luminous,  as  if  it  had  caught  the  glow  of 
another,  never-dying  flame,  and  Magdalen-like,  the 
weary  head  of  her  who  bears  it  has  dropped  forward 
upon  the  palms  of  a  pair  of  thin  hands,  and  a  flood  of 
graying  hair  that  reaches  to  her  knees  hides  the  out- 
line of  the  troubled  face  utterly,  of  this  poor  cowering 
outcast. 

I  stir  the  ashes  anew,  and  my  silent  visitor  cowers 
closer  yet  to  the  soot-stained  jambs,  as  if,  with  the 
going  of  the  flame,  her  spirit  was  being  forsaken  of  its 
life  and  warmth.  I  am  moved  somewhat  to  probe 
the  secret  of  her  life,  but  as  I  glance  again  toward  her 
corner,  she  has  disappeared. 

" I  wonder  who  it  could  be?"  you  exclaim. 

Frankly,  I  never  thought  to  ask.  Amit  Polly,  of 
malodorous  Brimstone  Hill,  knew  her.  She  was  a 
Kittery  girl;  but  more,  I  do  not  know,  though  it  oc- 
curred to  me  I  would  like  to  know  more  of  her  history. 
I  felt  a  bit  chary  about  quizzing  her,  for  she  might 
have  been  sensitive  about  it;  that  is,  if  she  had  re- 
tained much  of  womanly  feeling  after  that  benmnb- 
ing  hour  in  the  pillory,  with  the  rough-edged  comment 
and  the  merciless  jeerings  of  those  perhaps  no  better 
than  herself,  but  who  were  more  fortunate  in  the  con- 
cealment of  their  intrigues,  ringing  in  her  tortured 


360  OLD  YORK 

ear.  I  wonder  if  she  has  forgiven  her  betrayer,  and 
if  the  stripes  on  her  back  redden  and  burn,  as  she 
thinks  of  the  grievous  wrongs  her  sex  has  alway  suf- 
fered at  the  hands  of  her  brothers. 

Now  that  these  eerie  folk  have  got  away,  my  mind 
has  cleared  of  the  fogs  that  came  with  the  storm,  and 
the  spectral  influences  that  dommated  and  colored 
my  mental  vision,  and  I  remember. 

In  1651,  there  lived  in  Kittery  a  mmister  by  the 
name  of  Stephen  Bachiller,  whose  mclmation  to 
one  marital  experience  after  another  gave  opportu- 
nity for  satirical  reflections,  akin  to  those  which  in- 
spired Alexander  Pope,  who  was  born  thirty-seven 
years  later,  to  exploit,  in  pmigent  verse,  the  alliance 
of  January  and  May. 

This  Stephen  Bachiller  was  born  in  England,  1561, 
and  by  reason  of  his  Non-Conformist  belief  was  com- 
pelled to  take  asylum  in  Holland.  Some  years  later, 
he  returned  to  London,  and  March  9,  1632,  he  sailed 
for  New  England  on  the  William  and  Francis  to  join 
his  daughter,  Theodate.  Reaching  Boston,  he  went 
to  Ljoin,  where  this  daughter  lived  with  her  husband, 
and  there  he  began  to  preach.  It  was  not  long,  how- 
ever, before  he  was  complained  of  for  preaching 
without  legal  authority,  and  the  Court  required  him 
"  to  forbeare  exercising  his  gifts  as  a  pastor  or  teacher 
publiquely  in  our  Pattent."  In  1636,  he  went  to  Ips- 
wich, where  he  had  a  land-grant;  but  he  had  in  mind 
the  establishment  of  a  church  in  Yarmouth,  for  which 
place  he  set  out  afoot  amid  the  severity  of  the  winter 
of  1637  —  a  journey  which  comprised  nearly  a  hun- 


OLD   YORK  361 

drecl  miles.  His  project  was  a  failure.  He  next 
appears  at  Newbury,  from  whence  he  went  with  his 
daughter  and  her  husband  to  Hampton  two  years 
later.  He  was  here  in  Hampton  when  he  was  called 
to  act  as  referee  in  a  matter  in  litigation  between 
George  Cleeve  of  Casco  and  John  Whiter,  Tre- 
lawiey's  factor  at  Richmond  Island.  He  was  about 
eighty  years  old  at  this  time  "when  he  committed  a 
heinous  offence,  which  he  at  first  denied,  but  finally 
acknowledged,  and  was  excommunicated  from  the 
Church  therefor." 

Not  long  after,  he  was  re-admitted  to  Comnumion, 
but  debarred  from  preaching.  Baxter  says  he  was 
invited  "  to  preach  at  Exeter  in  1644,  but  the  General 
Court  would  not  permit  him  to  accept  the  call. "  In 
1650,  he  was  in  Portsmouth,  where  at  the  extreme  age 
of  eighty-nine,  a  wintry  age,  he  contemplated  takmg 
to  himself  a  third  wife.  Experienced  m  marital 
matters,  he  decided  that 

"  A  stale  virgin  with  a  winter  face" 

would  not  be  to  his  taste.  Had  one  been  within  ear- 
shot mayhap  some  echo  of  his  soliloquy  would  have 
inspired  an  earlier  Pope  to  this: 

"My  limbs  are  active,  still  I'm  sound  at  heart, 
And  a  new  vigor  springs  in  every  part. 
Think  not  my  virtue  lost,  though  Time  has  shed 
Those  reverend  honors  on  my  hoary  head ; 
Thus  the  trees  are  crowned  with  blossoms  white  as  snow, 
The  vital  sap  then  rising  from  below; 
Old  as  I  am,  my  lusty  limbs  appear 
Like  winter  greens  that  flourish  all  the  year." 


362  OLD   YORK 

Endowed  with  the  fervent  belief  that 

"A  wife  is  the  peculiar  gift  of  Heaven," 

he  forthwith  married  one  Mary  —  the  surname  is  lost 
—  for  his  third  spouse,  and  her  age  is  given  as  "  twenty 
years."  As  woman  sometimes  will,  with  or  without 
provocation,  Mary  Bachiller  erred  in  becoming  enam- 
oured of  a  worthless  fellow  by  the  name  of  George 
Rogers,  who  was  somewhat  a  disciple  of  the  Arts  of 
Ovid,  and  whose  untimely  and  scandalous  behavior 
with  the  girlish,  and,  no  doubt,  charming  wife  of 
this  foolish  old  man,  was  such  that  both  were  brought 
"to  book"  in  October  of  1651.  It  was  a  swift  disil- 
lusionment for  the  poor  wife;  for  upon  their  indict- 
ment and  presentment  to  the  Court,  as  appears  by 
Book  "B"  of  the  York  Records,  they  were  duly  sen- 
tenced. Rogers,  man-fashion,  got  off  with  "forty 
stroakes  save  one  at  ye  first  Towne  Meeting  held  at 
Kittery,  which  he  could  cover  up  with  his  coat; 
while  the  girl-wife  was  adjudged  to  "receive  forty 
stroakes  save  one  at  ye  first  Towne  Meeting  held  at 
Kittery  6  weekes  after  her  delivery,  &  be  branded 
with  the  letter  A,"  and  which  was  to  be  "  two  inches 
long,  and  proportionable  bigness,  cut  out  of  cloath 
of  a  contrary  colour  to  'her'  cloathes,  and  sewed 
upon  '  her'  upper  garments  on  the  outside  of  '  her '  arm 
or  on  'her'  back,  in  open  view,"  and  if  found  there- 
after without  her  letter,  she  was  to  be  "  pubhckly 
whipt." 

Here  was  a  Hester    Prynne,  forsooth,  with    the 
difference,  that  she  got  her  name  legitmiately,  and 


OLD   YORK  363 

not  under  the  magic  wand  of  the  romancer.  Poor 
Mary  Bachiller!  forever  branded,  on  that  fateful 
fifteenth  of  October  of  1651!  whose  untoward  career 
may  have  afforded  Hawthorne  the  material  for  his 
famous  "Scarlet  Letter." 

Her  husband  at  this  time  was  ninety  years  old, 
and  this  same  year  took  ship  for  England.  Once 
there,  and  undivorced  from  his  third  wife,  he  was 
married  to  a  fourth  wife,  with  whom  he  lived  to  the 
end  of  his  days,  which  occurred  in  1660.  What  a 
commentary  on  the  ways  of  those  far-off  times,  the 
checkered  career  of   this  one  man  affords! 

Here  is  another  presentment  of  the  same  day  as 
that  of  Mary  Bachiller.  "We  present  Jane,  the  wife 
of  John  Andrews,  for  se'ling  of  a  Firkin  of  Butter 
unto  Mr.  Nic.  Davis  that  had  two  stones  in  it,  which 
contained  fourteen  pounds,  wanting  two  ounces  in 
A^>ight.  This  presentment  owned  by  Jane  Andrews 
and  John  Andrews,  her  husband,  in  five-pound  Bond, 
is  bound  thus:  Jane  h"s  wife,  shall  stand  at  a  town 
meeting  at  York,  and  at  a  town  meeting  at  Kittery, 
till  two  hours  be  expired,  with  her  offense  written  in 
Capital  Letters,  pinned  to  her  forehead.  This  in- 
junction fulfilled  at  a  Commiss'n  Court  according 
to  Order  Jan'y  18,  1653." 

I  wish  that  these  odd  shapes  and  sizes  of  ghost-folk 
might  have  shown  less  haste  in  their  going,  for  there 
were  many  other  matters  concerning  which  I  was 
anxious  to  be  informed;  and  while  I  was  mildly 
chiding  myself  upon  my  unprofitable  display  of 
modesty,  mj^  lack  of  tact  or  courtesy  to  my  guests, 


364  OLD   YORK 

the  sharp  challenge  of  a  cock-crow  echoed  from  a 
neighboring  barn-loft.  I  knew  then  that  it  was  no 
fault  of  mine  that  these  waifs  of  other  days  had  so 
abruptly  flown. 

A  glance  out  the  little  window  that  revealed  the 
lurid  edge  of  the  storm,  and  as  well  the  cheery  blaze 
of  Boon  Island  Light,  shows  a  streak  of  pallor  low 
down  on  the  rim  of  the  sea  to  eastward.  The  light 
on  Boon  Island  has  changed  from  red  to  white  against 
the  luminous  sky.  The  ash  of  the  rose  is  strewn 
over  the  nearer  waters,  while  farther  away,  the  roses 
bloom  on  every  shifting  crest  of  their  ever-widening 
waste. 

The  day-break  has  leapt  from  the  sea  with  a  bound, 
and  the  land  of  ghostly,  and  other  traditions,  is  left 
behind  with  one  more  day  that  will  never  return. 


FROST'S    HILL 


THE  PLEIADS  OF  THE  PISCATAOUA 


u^-. 


v 


V 


THE  PLEIADS  OF  THE  PISCATAQUA 

EN  miles  offshore,  and 
in  sight  of  White 
Island  Light,  are  the 
Isles  of  Shoals,  seven 
sister-islands  grouped 
closely,  like  the  Ple- 
iads of  the  Constella- 
tion of  Taurus.  These 
islands,  lying  off  the 
mouth  of  the  Piscata. 
qua,  have  been  well- 
known  to  voyagers 
along  the  New  Eng- 
land coast  since  the  sailing  hither  of  Champlain. 
Smith  mentions  them  first,  and  they  appear  first, 
cartographically,  upon  his  rude  map  of  1614;  and 
first  knoAvn  as  the  Smith  Isles,  they  afterward  were 
christened  anew,  by  whom  I  know  not,  or  when; 
but  it  is  to  be  admitted  that  their  present  appella- 
tion is  peculiarly  appropriate,  and  smacks  abund- 
antly of  the  romance  and  poetry  of  the  sea.     Their 

367 


368 


OLD   YORK 


low,  black  ribs  make  the  setting  for  the  emeralds  of 
verdure  that  crown  them  with  a  certain  comeli- 
ness, and  lend  to  them  suggestions  of  breezy  cool- 


)^at-bor 


^Td§ 


ut[hr 


ness  when 
the  heats  of 
summer  hold 
the  mainland 
in  bands  of 
sweltering  hu- 
midity. 

Here  is  the 
home   of    ro- 
~~'    mance,  of  le- 
gend, and  of  tragedy. 

Suppose  we  mount  the  Indian's 
Enchanted  Horse  and  give  the  peg  in 
his  neck  a  slight  turn;  with  our  faces 
to  the  rising  sun,  we  are,  with  the 
ciuiclmess  of  thought,  beside  the  blue 
waters  that  hold  the  Isle  of  St.  Croix 
in  their  crooning  embrace,  where  Pierre 
du  Guast,  Sieur  de  Monts,  one  of  the  first  gentlemen 
of  France,  and  a  favorite  officer  of  the  royal  house- 
hold of  Henry  VII,  passed  the  winter  of  1604-5. 
Du  Guast  was  an  experienced  navigator,  and  pos- 
sessed the  confidence  of  his  royal  master  to  so  great 
a  degree,  that  before  sailing  hither,  Henry  had  named 


OLD   YORK  369 

him  his  lieutenant-general  in  this  new  country  which 
he  was  to  possess  himself  of  in  the  name  of  his  king, 
and  colonize.  This  commission  was  dated  at  Fon- 
tainebleau  in  1603,  and  was  further  established  by 
the  uncouth  sign-manual  of  Henry.  A  splotch  of 
yellow  wax,  known  as  the  royal  seal,  reenforced 
this  important  document,  by  which  Du  Guast  was 
authorized  to  colonize  Arcadia.  The  limits  of  Arca- 
dia were  defined  as  lying  between  the  parallels  of 
40  and  46,  which  on  the  New  Brmiswick  coast  would 
strike  in  about  Georges  Bay,  to  run  westward  across 
the  backwoods  of  Maine  to  touch  the  northern  skirts 
of  old  Katahdin.  Its  southern  limit  would  cut  into 
the  northern  suburbs  of  the  Quaker  City.  This 
stretch  of  coast-line,  reaching  from  the  upper  end 
of  Nova  Scotia  to  the  shallows  of  New  Jersey,  was 
the  ocean  boundary  of  New  France,  and  from  the 
time  of  Henry  VH,  Du  Guast's  limitations  were 
the  bases  of  the  French  claims  to  the  territory,  which, 
fifteen  years  later,  were  to  be  contested  by  the  Eng- 
lish by  actual  occupation  and  appropriation  of  the 
soil  -about  Massachusetts  Bay,  which  is  spanned  by 
parallel  42. 

It  was  here  at  Isle  St.  Croix  that  Du  Guast  formu- 
ated  his  plans,  and  as  the  spring  opened  he  set  sail, 
pointing  the  prow  of  his  little  bark  to  the  southward 
along  the  coast,  ever  seeking  for  a  "  place  more  suit- 
able for  habitation,  and  of  a  milder  temperature," 
than  the  snow-bound,  fog-beset  shores  of  the  St. 
Croix.  His  commission  vested  in  him  full  discre- 
tionary powers  to  colonize   this  Arcadia,  to  which 


370  OLD   YORK 

distance  had  lent  something  of  enchantment,  but 
which,  in  its  reality  was  a  rugged  country,  beset  with 
perils,  and  whose  high  emprise  was  to  be  achieved 
only  by  centuries  of  strenuous  warfare  not  only  with 
Nature,  but  with  the  aboriginal  possessor.  Du  Guast 
was  its  first  monopolist.  For  a  decade  of  years,  the 
sole  right  to  the  emoluments  of  its  commodities  of 
skins  and  furs  was  to  be  his;  and,  autocrat-like,  his 
was  the  power  to  make  war  or  peace  —  sovereign 
powers,  to  be  sure. 

Under  Du  Guast  were  a  small  number  of  adven- 
turers, who,  at  home,  within  the  purlieus  of  the 
French  Court,  were  denominated  gentlemen.  Twenty 
sailors  made  up  the  crew,  but  the  most  distinguished 
of  all  was  Samuel  Champlain,  the  geographer  of  this 
expedition  of  combined  exploration  and  colonization. 
Champadore  was  pilot,  who  was  to  be  assisted  by  the 
Indian  Panounias  and  his  scjuaw,  who  accompanied 
Du  Guast  as  he  left  the  waters  of  the  St.  Croix  behind 
him.  It  was  about  June  15,  of  this  year  1605,  that 
Du  Guast  and  Champlain  began  a  minute  examina- 
tion of  the  Maine  coast,  but  the  larger  portion  of  his 
contingent  was  left  at  St.  Croix.  They  were  here 
at  the  Isles  of  Shoals  about  July  15,  after  having 
cast  anchor  in  the  mouth  of  the  Saco,  and  given  a 
cursory  glance  at  the  fairly  spacious  estuary  of  the 
Kennebunk  River,  still  following  the  trend  of  the 
coast  — which  was  low,  marshy,  and  sandy  —  south- 
ward from  the  bold  headland  of  Cape  Elizabeth,  until 
they  had  sighted  Cape  Ann. 

Champlain  does  not  show  this  group  of  islands  on 


OLD   YORK  371 

either  of  his  maps.  Perhaps  he  did  not  regard  them 
of  sufficient  importance;  and,  again,  De  Monts  may 
have  left  them  so  far  to  the  eastward  as  that  they 
appeared  but  a  broken  reef  of  rocks.  The  wide 
mouth  of  the  Piscataqua  to  the  west  afforded  an 
abundance  of  sea  room,  yet  he  mentions  three  or  four 
islands  of  moderate  elevation.  He  locates  the  anchor- 
age of  the  French  bark  clearly  enough. 

"Mcttant  le  cap  au  su  pour  nous  esloigner  afin  de 
mouiller  I'ancre,  ayant  fait  environ  deaux  lieux  nous 
appercumes  un  cap  a  la  grande  terre  au  su  quart  de 
suest  de  nous  ou  il  pouvoit  avoit  six  lieues;  a  Test 
deux  lieues  appercumes  trois  ou  quatre  isles  assez 
hautes  et  al'ouest  un  grand  cu  de  sac." 

From  this,  one  makes  the  Bay  of  Ipswich;  the  head- 
land of  Cape  Ann;  and  these  "trois  et  quatre  isles" 
are  the  Isles  of  Shoals.  That  he  says,  three  or  four, 
is  conclusive  that  no  minute  examination  of  their 
exact  number  or  character  was  made.  Pring  men- 
tions some  islands  about  the  43d  parallel,  within  the 
shelter  of  one  of  which  he  cast  anchor ;  but  they  were 
as  likely  to  have  been  those  of  Casco  Bay,  as  those 
lying  off  the  mouth  of  the  Piscataqua.  The  seven 
islands  that  make  the  Isles  of  Shoals  group  would 
hardly  be  taken  by  a  mariner  of  Pring's  experience 
as  a  "multitude."  I  apprehend  the  "taking  of  the 
sun"  with  so  rude  an  instrument  as  a  jackstaff  in 
those  days,  was  not  so  absolutely  accurate,  as  that 
the  designation  of  any  particular  parallel  by  those 
old  voyagers  could  be  taken  as  exact.  Their  instru- 
ments were  rude,  and  subject  to  error. 


372  OLD   YORK 

I  am  inclined  to  give  Smith  the  distinction  claimed 
for  him.     Drake  says  Gosnold  must  have  seen  these 
islands,  and  adds,  "  but  he  thought  them  hardly  worth 
entering  in  his  log."     There  is  neither  rhyme  nor 
reason  in  such  a  conjecture.     Smith  was  the  first  to 
exploit  these  islands  and  the  riches  of  their  waters, 
and  he  has  the  rights  of  an  inventor  to  his  patent.     It 
was  Smith's  report  of  them  that  first  sent  the  English 
fishermen  hither;  and  it  is  as  true  that  from  Cham- 
plain's  sighting  them  in  1605,   to  Smith's  locating 
and  giving  them  a  name  in  1614,  one  finds  no  special 
mention  of  them.     To  Smith  clearly  belongs  the  pres- 
tige, if  there  be  any,  of  their  so-called  discovery. 
Drake  suggests  that  Smith  left  no  evidence  that  he 
ever  landed  on  them.     It  strikes  me  that  his  descrip- 
tion of  them,  his  locating  of  them  on  his  map,  and  his 
giving  them  a  name  is  as  good  evidence  as  one  could 
expect.     He  could  have  conceived  no  idea  of  their 
value  or  importance,  had  he  not  sailed  in  among  them; 
and  had  he  not  valued  them  according  to  his  observa- 
tion of  them,  he  would  have  hardly  given  them  his 
name ;  which  he  did,  and  which  Charles  I  confirmed. 
His  accomit  of  them,  to  his  king,  must  have  been 
of  a  somewhat  extended   and   flattering  character, 
also,    to    have    attracted    the    royal    complaisance. 
Every  circumstance  points  to  Smith's  accurate  and 
extensive  knowledge  of  them. 

Gosnold's  unconscious  cerebrations  do  not  weigh 
much  against  Smith's  activities.  As  to  De  Monts, 
his    accomplishment   was    small.     He    conducted    a 

voyage  which  Champlain  has  appropriated  by  reason 


OLD   YORK  373 

of  his  "  Relations."  De  Monts,  stripped  of  his  endow- 
ments by  his  fickle  master,  a  descendant  of  line  of 
kings  whose  fickleness  was  proverbial,  is  forgotten, 
while  Champlain's  story  of  the  voyage  of  1605  will 
perpetuate  his  memory  so  long  as  the  St.  Croix  shall 
flow  seaward,  or  Cape  Ann  hold  apart  from  Massachu- 
setts Bay  the  waters  of  Ipswich.  His  is  the  first  de- 
tailed and  discerning  account  of  this  coast;  and  it 
was  the  story  of  a  fairly  good  observer. 

Christopher  Levett  was  here  in  1623.  He  says, 
"  The  first  place  I  set  my  foot  upon  in  New  England 
was  the  Isle  of  Shoals,  being  islands  in  the  sea  about 
two  leagues  from  the  main. 

"  Upon  these  islands  I  neither  could  see  one  good 
timber-tree  nor  so  much  good  ground  as  to  make  a 
garden. 

"The  place  is  foimd  to  be  a  good  fishing-place  for 
six  ships,  but  more  cannot  well  be  there,  for  want  of 
convenient  stage-room,  as  this  year's  experience  hath 
proved." 

He  seems  to  be  the  only  Englisliman  up  to  that 
time  who  mentions  them,  with  any  directness,  after 
Smith,  who  preceded  Levett's  visit  by  seven  years. 
According  to  Levett,  these  islands  were  then  Imown 
as  the  Shoals,  and  one  would  gather  that  fishermen 
were  there  before  him.  Undoubtedly,  there  were 
fisliing-craft  at  the  islands  at  the  time  of  which  he 
writes,  as  he  designates  the  number  of  vessels  that 
may  find  accommodation.  Levett  had  but  one  vessel, 
so  the  inference  may  be  taken  for  a  fact.  As  to  the 
fishermen,  as  early  as  1615,  according  to  the  Whit- 


374  OLD   YORK 

bourne  Relations,  referred  to  by  Purchas,  the  former 
is  quoted: 

"In  the  year  1615,  when  I  was  at  Newfoundland 
....  there  were  then  on  that  coast  of  your  Majes- 
tie's  subjects,  two  hundred  and  fiftie  saile  of  ships, 
great  and  small.  The  burthens  and  tonnage  of  them 
all,  one  with  another,  so  neere  as  I  could  take  notice, 
allowing  every  ship  to  be  at  least  three-score  tim  (for 
as  some  of  them  contained  lesse,  so  many  of  them 
held  more),  amounting  to  more  than  15,000  tunnes. 
Now,  for  every  three-score  tun  burthen,  according 
to  the  usual  manning  of  ships  in  those  voyages,  agree- 
ing with  the  note  I  then  tooke,  there  are  to  be  set 
doune  twentie  men  and  boyes;  by  which  computation 
in  these  two  hmidred  and  fiftie  saile  there  were  no 
lesse  than  five  thousand  persons." 

With  so  many  "saile"  about  the  shores  of  New- 
foimdland,  there  would  be  a  disposition  to  seek  out 
nd  occupy  new  fishing-grounds  that  were  to  be  profit- 
able. The  water  about  the  Isles  of  Shoals  was  deep, 
and  the  cod  were  abundant;  and  the  spines  of  these 
islands  offered  a  most  excellent  drying-place  for  the 
industry.  If  one  notes  the  fact,  it  was  on  the  island 
slopes  that  these  fishermen  spread  out  their  catches 
to  the  sun.  The  farther  they  were  from  the  main- 
land, the  more  desirable  the  location,  with  fathoms  of 
water  in  plenty,  and  cod  likewise  abundant;  and  the 
less  likelihood  there  was  of  molestation. 

Poutrincourt,  in  1618,  declared  the  New  World 
fisheries,  even  then,  to  be  worth  annually,  a  "million 
d'or"    to   France.     Immediately   after   the    visit   of 


OLD    YORK 


375 


Levett,  the  Isles  of  Shoals  were  permanently  occupied 
by  the  fishermen,  a  rough,  boisterous  set;  so  that 
among  the  early  restrictions  of  the  Province  was  one 
that  women  were  not  to  be  allowed  to  live  there;  and 
which  was  based  solely  on  moral  gromids.  The  case 
of  Jolm  Reynolds  and  his  wife,  who  went  there  to  live 
as  late  as  1645,  is  in  point.     But  the  exigency  of  the 


FORT    POINT 


earlier  days  being  somewhat  abated,  Mrs.  Reynolds 
was  allowed  to  remain,  pending  the  further  order  of 
the  Court. 

As  Drake  says,  these  islands  have  something  of  an 
inhospitable  aspect;  but  their  rugged  character  com- 
ported with  the  rude  and  uncouth  salients  of  their 
dwellers,  whose  isolation  surrounded  them  with  a 
shadow  of  obscurity,  accentuated  by  their  infrequent 
contact  and  limitary  intercourse  with  the  mainland. 
The  sea  was  a  natural  barrier  to  such;  an  Al  Araf 
to  keep  Nature's  bounty  of  the  fields  and  meadows 


376 


OLD   YORK 


apart  from  the  mystery  of  these  sea-scarred  ribs  of 
semi- verdurous  rock. 

I  made  my  visit  to  these  islands  after  much  the 
same  fashion  of  other  folk.  I  went  by  a  comfortable 
little  steamer,  that  swung  out  its  Portsmouth  dock 
with  the  morning  tide;  and  I  saw,  as  I  sailed,  what 
every  one  sees  who  goes  to  the  Isles  of  Shoals  by 
water.  What  interested  me  most  were  the  stories 
of  the  old  days  that  were  written  along  the  city  roofs, 


BADGER'S    ISLAND 


on  one  side,  and  along  the  marge  of  the  Kittery 
shore,  opposite.  There  was  not  much  activity  on 
the  river;  the  olden  commerce  of  the  Port  of  Ports- 
mouth having  long  ago  forsaken  it  for  the  shallows 
of  Boston  harbor.  The  ferry  plied  its  trade  with 
Kittery;  and  here  and  there  the  black  smoke  of  a 
collier  blew  down  the  channel  between  Great  Island 
and  Kittery  Point;  the  asthmatic  wheeze  of  a  donkey- 
engine,  hidden  among  the  shadows  of  a  huge  coal- 
bunker  along-shore,  straining  at  its  task,  throbbed 
and  beat  against  the  morning  air.     Troops  of  gulls 


OLD   YORK 


377 


swept  outward  over  the  rough  floor  of  the  river  with 
curving,  spectral  flight. 

These  flights  of  the  gulls  to  seaward  remind  one 
of  the  old  saw  — 

"  If  at  morn  the  gulls  to  sea  take  flight, 
The  sun  will  shine  from  morn  till  night," 

and  the  fisher-craft  sail  out  into  the  farthest  haze  to 
drop  their  lines,  assured  of  fair  weather;  but,  with 


A    BIT    OF    PORTSMOUTH    HARBOR 


the  gulls  hovering  along  the  flats,  the  fishermen  look 
to  their  boats  to  see  that  their  moorings  are  taut  and 
ready  for  wind  and  rain.     It  is  then  they  say  — 

"  When  the  sea-gull  hugs  the  inner  shore, 
The  rain  will  drive,  and  the  winds  will  roar. " 

There  was  the  sound  of  a  creaking  capstan  and  a 
rattle  of  mast-hoops  as  the  sails  of  the  four-master 
under  our  lee  went  down  on  the  rim.  I  thought 
of  old  Skipper  Robinson  of  New  Gloucester,  who 
originated  this  type  of  sailing  vessel  in  1713,  and 
which  he  dubbed  on  the  spot,  a  "scooner;"  and  I 


378 


OLD   YORK 


wondered  what  he  would  have  said  to  the  modern 
six-masted  craft  of  the  Bath  shipyards.  Off  the 
Navy  Yard,  the  traditions  crowd  each  the  other; 
but  here  is  AVarehouse  Point,  where  Spruce  Creek 
comes  in;  and  the  pleasant  slopes  of  the  Enchanted 
Land  where  the  names  of  Champernowne,  Chamicey, 
Pepperrell  and  Cutt  are  as  good  as  guide-boards  to 
show  one  his  way  about.     Each  of  these  nooks  and 


corners  of  Kittery  verdure  is  a  page  whereon  one 
reads  as  he  sails — whether  it  be  a  headland,  creek,  an 
old-time  rookery,  or  a  manse,  or  the  greenery  of  God's 
Acre  that  fronts  the  old  parsonage  —  all  are  to  be 
interpreted  by  one  according  to  his  own  fashion. 

Here  is  a  delightfully  suggestive  environment,  with 
all  of  old  Kittery  to  sunrise-ward,  and  quaintly  olden 
New  Castle  on  the  westerly  and  opposite  side  of  the 
main  channel  of  this  historic  waterway.  If  one 
should  hug  the  shore  of  Great  Island  after  turning 
the  needle-like  Jaffrey's  Point,  another  entrance  to 


OLD   YORK 


379 


Portsmouth  would  be  discovered.  This  is  Little 
Harbor,  but  it  is  a  shallow  strait;  for  at  low  tide  it  is 
unavailable  for  other  than  craft  of  the  lightest 
draught.  But  one  needs  to  skim  these  shallows  if 
one  is  to  Imow  Portsmouth  from  her  sea  approaches. 
Once  well  mto  this  charming  nook  of  Little  Harbor, 
the  artery  by  which  Great  Island  is  connected  to  the 
mainland,  is  discovered  a  trio  of  old-fashioned 
bridges,  and  Great  Island  is  at  the  end  of  them  all. 


WENTWORTH    HALL 

Here  is  the  quaintest  of  all,  New  Castle.  Opposite, 
across  the  shallows,  at  the  mouth  of  Sagamore  Creek' 
one  gets  a  glimpse  of  clustered  chimneys,  as  it  were' 
of  some  old-tune  inn,  so  many  are  there  of  them. 
The  native  knows  it  for  olden  Wentworth  Hall,  a  ram- 
bling old  house  spacious  enough  to  quarter  a  company 
of  dragoons  in,  horses  and  all;  for  its  subterranean 
excavations  are  barn-like  in  their  extent.  A  queer 
old  affair  is  AYentworth  Hall,  which  has  the  appear- 


380  OLD   YORK 

ance  of  two  old  houses  wrought  into  one  by  an  inter- 
vening structure  of  even  more  ample  proportions, 
having  a  semblance  of  a  trio  of  roof-trees.  None  of 
these  three  resemble  each  the  other,  for  each  is  as 
unlike  the  other  in  design  and  architecture,  as  the 
periods  in  which  they  were  evidently  built.  The 
only  way  to  get  well  and  thoroughly  acquainted  with 
a  place  is  to  go  without  guide-book,  or  even  guide. 
One  does  not  need  the  scent  of  a  ferret,  but  the 
Yankee-like  trait  of  asking  questions  must  needs 
be  put  into  exercise;  and  with  one's  nose  for  a 
guide-board,  one's  curiosity  is  apt  to  be  amply  re- 
warded. 

Nor  does  one  make  the  best  venture  with  a  lively 
horse  and  a  rubber-tired  Brewster,  but  one  must 
trust  wholly  to  "  Shank's  Mare  "  to  get  the  most  profit- 
able results.  The  foot  jaunt  must  be  of  a  somewhat 
aimless  character,  for  more  of  directness  is  apt  to 
avoid  many  a  charming  by-way  and  gabled  quaint- 
ness;  and  then  the  acquaintances  one  makes,  here 
and  there  are  among  the  richest  of  one's  experiences. 
Horse-talk  does  not  admit  of  a  more  than  limited 
vernacular,  but  every  wayside  meeting  afoot  is  likely 
to  enlarge  and  savor  one's  vocabulary  with  the  most 
delightful  of  local  flavors.  Everythuig  that  smacks 
of  locahty,  its  human  types,  their  garb  and  dialect, 
adds  to  the  zest  of  one's  explorations.  A  gentle 
word  of  appreciation  and  a  kindly  courtesy  at  first 
greeting  will  open  the  roughest  chestnut  burr,  and  a 
flood  of  old-time  lore  is  on  tap.  One  makes  no  note 
of  time,  for  the  eye  and  ear  are  one;  and  both  are 


OLD   YORK 


381 


alertly  vibrant  with  riches,  to  which  the  makers  of 
guide-books  are  utter  strangers. 

If  one  goes  afoot  about  this  old  fishing-port  of  New 


A    BY-WAY    IN    NEW    CASTLE 


Castle,  he  is  sure  to  wander  down  to  the  Point  of 
Graves.  One  can  see  it  from  the  steamer  deck,  or 
rather  where  it  is;  for  to  see  it  in  truth  is  to  thread  its 


382  OLD   YORK 

corrugations  with  reverent  tread,  for  here  is  an  ilhi- 
minated  page  of  local  history  with  headband,  initial, 
and  tail-piece,  ready  for  the  reading.  It  is  a  quaint 
picture  of  the  Past  these  black  slabs  make,  stark-set 
amid  a  host  of  verdant  mounds  so  many  years  blown 
over  by  the  salty  winds  from  the  sea,  and  saturated 
with  the  Piscataqua  fogs.  It  is  a  story,  as  well  as  a 
picture,  written  in  wavering,  broken  lines  of  living 
green,  with  these  old  headstones,  quaint,  moss-gro\Mi, 
lichen-stained,  and  storm-etched,  for  punctuation 
marks;  for  one  makes  longer  stay  at  some  than  at 
others.  Here  is  one  to  set  one's  wits  agog,  for 
among  these  old  memorials  is  that  of  old  Samuel 
Wentworth.  One  can  see  him  now  in  his  tavern  door 
under  the  shadow  of  his  sign  of  "The  Dolphin," 
greeting  or  speeding  his  guest  with  the  jovial  stirrujD- 
cup  of  the  time.  He  was  the  father  of  Jolm  Went- 
worth, the  first  Governor  Wentworth;  likewise  the 
grandfather  of  Governor  Benning  Wentworth,  whose 
nephew.  Sir  John  Wentworth,  was  the  last  of  the 
New  Hampshire  colonial  governors  of  that  name  — 
surely  a  remarkable  family,  a  sturdy  and  a  note- 
worthy. 

Bennmg  Wentworth  was  twice  married.  With  his 
first  marriage  the  reader  is  not  concerned.  Before 
his  first  wife  died,  a  slip  of  a  girl,  whose  sharply  angu- 
lar shoulders  and  slender  ankles  gave  scant  promise 
of  the  wonderful  beauty  of  after  years,  was  running 
about  the  streets  of  old  Portsmouth,  the  great-great- 
grand-daughter  of  pioneer  Hilton,  who  is  said  to  be 
the  first  to  have  planted  corn  on  Maine  soil. 


OLD   YORK  383 

This    was    Martha    Hilton,    and    Longfellow    has 
painted  her  portrait.     Here  it  is: 

"Barefooted,  ragged,  with  neglected  hair. 
Eyes  full  of  laughter,  neck  and  shoulders  bare, 
A  thin  slip  of  a  girl,  like  a  new  moon, 
Sure  to  be  rounded  into  beauty  soon. 
A  creature  men  would  worship  and  adore, 
Though  now  in  mean  habiliments  she  bore 
A  pail  of  water,  dripping,  through  the  street, 
And  bathing,  as  she  went,  her  naked  feet;  " 

and  so  scandalized  was  Mistress  Stavers,  the  inn- 
keeper of  Queen  Street,  that  she  chided  the  child. 
And  then  Martha  Hilton  laughed,  and  tossed  her 
yoiing  head,  and  from  her  tongue  flew  the  saucy 
quip  — 

"No  matter  how  I  look;  I  yet  shall  ride 
In  my  own  chariot,  ma'am;" 

and  she  did;  for  when  the  time  came,  and  Governor 
Benning  Wentworth  had  tired  of  his  lonely  livmg  in 
his  great  manse,  he  made  Martha  Hilton,  his  then 
serving-maid,  mistress  of  Wentworth  Hall.  When 
tiie  knot  was  tied, 

"On  the  fourth  finger  of  her  fair  left  hand 
The  governor  placed  the  ring;  and  that  was  all; 
Martha  Hilton  was  Lady  Wentworth  of  the  Hall." 

It  was  a  charming  romance,  and  had  Mistress 
Stavers  been  alive  she  would  doubtless  have  taken 
the  Earl  of  Halifax  into  Iier  confidence,  who  had 
so  long  maintained  a  discreet  silence  that  he  might 
well  have  been  trusted  with  this.     It  is  a  charming 


384  OLD   YORK 

story  Longfellow  has  woven  from  this  romance  of 
Martha  Hilton,  but  she  was  worthy  of  it;  for  if  all 
accounts  are  true,  she  was  a  great  beauty,  and 
graced  the  ampUtude  of  the  great  house  with  its 
fifty-two  rooms,  to  uphold  with  credit  the  character 
of  its  distinguished  occupants;  of  it  all,  Lady  Went- 
worth  was  the  pearl  of  great  price. 

But  this  is  not  all  this  old  memorial  of  Samuel 
Wentworth  tells  me,  though  his  own  story  is  of  the 
most  meagre  sort  —  a  name,  a  date,  and  that  is  all. 
But  one  goes  back  far  beyond  the  times  of  the  land- 
lord of  "The  Dolphin";  beyond  the  time  when 
Thompson  had  built  him  a  house  at  Odiorne's 
Point.  As  one  stands  here  one  hears  the  leaves  of 
Sherwood  Forest  singing  to  the  winds,  as  they  sang 
to  Robin  Hood,  Little  John,  Friar  Tuck,  and  Allan-a- 
Dale,  and  where  was  the  more  ancient  and  grander 
Wentworth  Hall. 

Walter  Scott  says  "the  ancient  forest  of  Sher- 
wood lay  between  Sheffield  and  Doncaster.  The 
remains  of  this  extensive  wood  are  still  to  be  seen  at 
the  noble  seat  of  Wentworth,"  and  from  whence 
is  to  be  reckoned  the  ancestry  of  the  English 
and  American  W^entworths,  a  notable  family  tree 
from  which  much  goodly  fruit  has  been  shaken. 
Perhaps  the  most  notable  of  all  was  the  Marquis  of 
Rockingham,  whose  opposition  to  the  infamous 
Stamp  Act  links  his  name  to  that  of  the  great  Chat- 
ham. What  a  bimdle  of  etchings  one  has  here  in 
this  old  headstone  of  Samuel  Wentworth's  !  And 
if  one  is  of  a  mind  to  linger  longer  before  it,  there  are 


OLD   YORK  385 

others  that  will  repay  one's  waiting.  Richard-like, 
one  sees  a  train  of  ghosts,  with  the  unfortunate  Earl 
of  Strafford  at  their  head;  for  he  was  a  Wentworth, 
like  those  who  came  after,  along  with  Lady  Byron, 
who  later  in  life  assumed  the  title  of  Baroness  Went- 
worth. 

But  this  old  manse  on  Sagamore  Creek  is  a  famous 
house.  Drake's  description  of  it  is  meagre  at  best, 
when  one  has  once  crossed  its  threshold.  Its  pic- 
tured story  would  need  an  entire  volume  by  itself; 
but  the  rambling  pile  carries  outwardly  no  sugges- 
tion of  the  treasures  of  which  it  is  the  unassuming 
possessor.  One  must  needs  see  more  than  the  jumble 
of  its  low-sloping  roofs  and  its  low-topped  chimneys 
that  peer  at  one  from  out  its  broidery  of  foliage. 
But  the  sun  falls  across  the  water  to  make  a  silver 
ribbon  that  loses  itself  amid  the  greenery  of  Saga- 
more Creek;  and  one  comes  back  to  the  Present  by 
the  way  of  it,  and  the  Point  of  Graves  is  left  beliind 
with  its  ghostly  dreams  and  traditions. 

The  wind  blows  freshly,  and  is  laden  with  the 
scents  from  the  woodlands  up  river,  and  I  note  the 
smoke  from  the  boat  goes  hurrying  seaward  even 
faster  than  myself.  It  hangs  away  from  the  black 
nuizzle  of  the  smokestack  like  a  dingy  banner,  and 
anon  its  fibre  untwists,  and  it  is  drimk  up  by  the 
Sim.  This  olden  New  Castle  was  once  a  fishmg- 
towii,  as  one  may  know  with  a  single  glance  mto 
Puddle  Luck,  for  here  are  rude  wharves  and  fish- 
houses,  all  in  numerous  stages  of  senility  and  dilapi- 
dation.    Here  were   once   fishflakes    by  the    acre. 


386 


OLD   YORK 


Like  the  headstones  at  the  Point  of  Graves,  these 
old  shacks  are  but  the  scant  memorials  of  a  larger 
and  more  active  importance.  Everywhere  are  rot- 
ting timbers  as  suggestive  as  the  ribs  of  a  long  mould- 
ering skeleton  from  which  all  vitality  has  long  since 
departed. 

But    they  are   fertile   for   all   their  decay,  and  of 
much  interest.     They  make  the  uncouth  yet  pathetic 


PUDDLE    LUCK,   GREAT    ISLAND 

frames  for  hosts  of  snappy  sketches  of  the  days 
when  a  sailor  in  pigtails  and  petticoats  and  a 
cutlass  was  as  common  as  is  the  Ingersoll  watch  of 
to-day,  for  the  charter  of  the  old  town  dates  from 
1693,  which  one  may  see  if  one  cares  to  go  over  to  the 
selectmen's  office.  Bellomont,  who  opened  up  the 
way  to  Captain  Kidd's  piratical  career,  with  a  com- 
mission to  make  reprisal  upon  the  enemies  of  the 
English,  was  here  along  with  Admiral  Benbow,  and 
Bellomont  reported  to  the  Lords  of  Trade  at  London 


OLD   YORK 


387 


as  early  as  1699,  "It  is  a  most  noble  harbor.  The 
biggest  ships  the  king  hath  can  lie  against  the  banks 
at  Portsmouth." 

One  notes  the  Martello  tower  on  its  rocky  hump, 
that  has  for  so  many  years  looked  to  seaward,  for 
it  dates  back  to  1812.     There  was  an  older  fort  of 


9W/(Sf^ 


thirty  guns  here  as  early  as  1700,  but  Bellomont  con- 
demned it  as  incapable  of  serviceable  defence  against 
an  invasion  of  the  river.  It  was  known  as  old  Fort 
William  and  :Mary,  but  it  has  disappeared  to  its  last 
vestige. 

The  low  granite  fortress  one  sees  here  on  Jaffrey's 
Point  is  nearly  a  century  old.  Its  date  of  construc- 
tion goes  back  to  around  1808.     Fort  Constitution, 


388  OLD   YORK 

for  these  walls  of  brick  and  stone  are  so  called,  is 
of  slender  importance.  Like  its  contemporaries, 
Gorges,  Scammell,  and  a  few  others,  it  is  but  a 
reminder  of  the  days  when  war  was  child's  play  com- 
pared with  that  now  famous  conflict  of  the  Korean 
peninsula. 

Before  getting  out  of  sight  of  Wentworth  Hall 
altogether,  one  recalls  Martha  Hilton.  In  good  time 
Benning  Wentworth  died,  and  Martha  did  not  cling  to 
her  widowhood  for  long,  for  she  married  a  rake,  known 
in  his  time  as  Michael  Wentworth  of  the  Royal  army. 
After  the  dashing  colonel  had  run  through  with  his 
property,  he  is  said  to  have  ended  his  life  by  suicide. 
He  furnished  his  own  epitaph,  —  "I  have  eaten  my 
cake." 

The  narrows  of  the  river  have  been  left  behind 
with  their  suggestive  ridges  that  indicated  the  loca- 
tion of  the  batteries  of  the  Revolutionary  period. 
This  water-way  is  a  dimmutive  Hell  Gate,  and  no 
wonder  the  spur  of  land  that  juts  into  the  river  here 
should  be  christened  by  the  unwashed  as  Pull-and- 
be-damned  Point.  With  the  out-going  tide  boiling 
and  seething  through  this  gap  the  sailor  finds  his 
up-river  trip  a  tedious  and  difficult  proposition  on  a 
light  wind.  But  the  way  has  opened  up;  the  scene- 
shifter  has  thrown  the  roofs  and  spires  of  Portsmouth 
into  the  background;  in  fact,  they  have  disappeared 
behind  the  urban  mysteries  of  ancient  New  Castle, 
whose  dockless  shore  narrows  and  loses  itself  in  the 
sea  where  the  low  gray  wall  of  antiquated  and  dis- 
mantled Fort  Constitution  lies,  sluggard-like,  in  the 


OLD   YORK 


389 


flood  of  the  Piscataqua.  On  the  outermost  extrem- 
ity of  the  fort  wall  is  the  Pharos  of  the  inner  harbor, 
while  just  ahead  are  the  twin  towers  that  rise  out  of 
the  sea  from  the  tide-submerged  spine  of  the  Whale's 
Back.  The  old  Pepperrcll  Manse  and  its  black 
warehouses  and  dock  are  a  good  mile  astern;  and 
Odiorne's  Point,  where  settler  Thompson  had  his 
cabin  before  the  occupation  of  ]\Iason's  agent,  is  to 
starboard.     Champernomie  Island  of  the  olden  time 


FORT   CONSTITUTION 

is  to  leeward.  Chauncey's  Creek  opens  its  mouth 
with  a  yawn,  while  Deering's  Guzzle  is  lost  in  the  soft 
contour  of  the  Kittery  shore. 

Now  one  gets  a  glimpse  of  the  Pleiads  of  the 
Piscataqua,  the  Smith  Isles,  better  kno^^^l  as  the 
Isles  of  Shoals.  They  were  just  discernible  in  the 
sea  mist  that  held  the  horizon  in  a  purple  swathing- 
band.  As  we  steamed  comfortably  over  the  inter- 
vening reach  of  blue  water,  Ipswich  Bay  and  the 
pug-nose  of  Cape  Ami  broke  their  bonds  of  mystery 
and  stood  out  fairly  distinct.  From  this  pomt  of 
view  their  appearance  was  not  much  different  from 
that  of  the  year  1605,  when  Du  Guast  sailed  his  little 


390  OLD   YORK 

bark  perhaps  over  the  very  course  which  our  steamer 
is  taking.  As  I  looked  Cape  Ann-ward  my  vision 
followed  that  of  Champlain,  but  it  went  beyond 
that  of  Champlain 's;  for  I  saw,  as  by  revelation, 
the  roofs  of  towns  that,  like  so  many  pearls,  were 
strung  along  the  thread  of  the  North  Shore,  until 
they  were  lost  in  the  dim  smokes  of  what  was  once 
Winthrop's  bailiwick.  I  could  even  see  the  gallows 
on  Witch  Hill. 

A  bump  against  the  pier  of  Star  Island  wakes  me 
from  my  re  very;  for  here  we  are,  j^erhaps  at  the  very 
place  where  Levett  anchored  his  craft  in  1623. 
There  is  nothing  here  but  a  rib  of  rock,  and  a  shore- 
house  for  summer  tourists.  If  one  wants  wind  and 
water  only,  here  is  as  good  a  place  as  any;  but  as  for 
seclusion,  it  is  wholly  of  the  veranda  sort.  As  for 
the  atmosphere,  it  is  savored  abmidantly  with  purest 
salt,  and  much  of  the  time,  water-logged.  One's 
only  resource  is  a  boat.  One's  impression  here  is 
of  being  en  voyage,  for  the  swash  of  the  tide  is  dinning 
in  one's  ears  always.  After  all  there  is  something 
very  restful  in  this  isolation ;  for  if  one  can  handle  an 
oar,  one  can  get  out  of  ear-shot  of  his  kind  almost 
immediately.  With  the  first  grip  of  the  rocks  of 
Star  Island  on  my  boot-soles,  my  inclination  is  to 
get  by  myself  in  some  comfortable  nook,  toper-like, 
to  have  it  out  with  Nature.  But  get  where  I  may, 
in  one  corner  of  the  veranda,  or  another,  I  hear  the 
chitter-chatter  of  young  magpies  in  comfortably 
short  skirts;  and  the  wild  whoop  of  a  contingent  of 
kids  in  knickerbockers;   a  sort  of  thing  I  like  well 


OLD   YORK 


391 


enough  at    times;   but,  like  a  nursling  at  Nature's 
pap,  I  was  inclined  to  greediness. 

Several  years  before  my  visit  to  the  Isles  of  Shoals, 
I  had  read  Drake,  critically,  being  something  of  a 
lover  of  the  quaint  and  olden;  and  I  said  to  myself, 
with  something  of  a  reservation,  that  he  was  a  man 
after  my  owm  heart.  I  should  like  to  have  been  his 
companion    in    his    walks    abroad.     I    would    have 


'^^^ 


>/5^^"^ 


ROCKS    OF    STAR    ISLAND 


"swapped"  glasses  with  him  occasionally,  Yankee- 
like. In  going  over  this  ground,  I  have  some  recol- 
lection of  him,  and  his  way  of  putting  things,  and  of 
observing.  He  seemed  to  enjoy  a  brilliant  sunset, 
and  many  things  else.  I  realize  that  he  found  the 
path  worn  by  others,  as  I  to-day  find  here  and  there 
an  ear-mark  of  his;  and  it  makes  me  feel  much  as  I 
used,  when,  reaching  the  trout-brook  of  an  ancient 
meadow  whose  '' swinuning-holes "  were  once  places 


392  OLD   YORK 

of  boyish  delight,  I  found,  to  my  annoyance,  that  the 
dew  had  been  brushed  off  the  lush  grasses  along  the 
stream  by  some  earlier  fisherman.  There  was 
nothing  to  do  but  to  trudge  after,  lazily,  the  more 
lazy-like  the  better,  landing  a  trout,  here,  or  there, 
as  I  could.  It  did  not  matter  much,  however,  for, 
somehow,  I  managed  to  bring  home  a  goodly  basket 
of  red-spots.  I  have,  before  now,  met  the  "other 
fellow"  whipping  the  stream  back,  and  upon  a  "show- 
down," surprised  him  into  envious  silence. 

To  digress  briefly:  several  years  ago,  I  wrote  a 
book  or  two,  in  one  of  which  I  alluded  to  the  canoe- 
birch.  When  the  volmne  reached  the  critics,  one, 
who  evidently  had  attended  a  late  supper,  in  whose 
mouth  still  lingered  that  disagreeable  "dark  brown 
taste,"  shrieked  himself  hoarse  with  the  exclama- 
tion: "Who  is  this,  that  writes  of  the  canoe-birch, 
after  John  Burroughs?" 

Well,  I  was  heartily  sorry  for  the  fellow,  for  it 
indicated  his  shrunk  stature,  and  the  Blondin-like 
slenderness  of  his  stamping-groimd ;  but  I  had  the 
consolation  of  knowing  that  that  glorious  vestal  of 
the  New  England  woods,  to  a  considerable  patch  of 
which  I  personally  had  a  suggestion  of  title,  had 
many  a  golden-lined  cup  of  good  cheer  for  her  lovers ; 
and  that  many  a  gracious  tribute  would  be  hers,  even 
after  the  gifted  pen  of  Mr.  Burroughs  had  bequeathed 
its  legacy  to  others.  I  hope  the  reader  will  not  shrug 
his  shoulder  too  strenuously,  if  by  chance  I  should 
happen  to  write  of  something  that  Mr.  Drake  saw; 
or  if,  perchance,  my  shoe  should  unwarily  press  one 


OLD   YORK  393 

of  those  vagrant  and  infrequent  blades  of  grass  on 
Smutty  Nose,  or  Appledore,  which,  after  a  generation, 
still  shows  the  heel-mark  of  my  genial  predecessor. 
Among  the  things  to  which  the  law  of  copyright  does 
not  extend,  is  Nature,  and  as  well,  the  translation 
of  her  mysteries.  If  a  man  is  pleased  to  sing,  let 
him  sing;  provided  he  shifts  his  key  sufficiently 
often,  so  that  one  can  get  away  from  its  idem,  sonans 
occasionally. 

One  cuckoo  croaks  "dry  weather"  on  the  hills; 
another  croaks  "rain"  m  the  meadows.  It  is  the 
croak  of  the  cuckoo,  hill,  or  valley. 

As  if  the  dazzling  sun  of  yesterday  had  exhausted 
all  the  mj^steries  of  to-day!  or  the  sunset  of  to-day 
had  drained  *the  untold  to-morrows  of  all  their  pig- 
ments. 

But  it  is  high  noon.  I  do  as  others  do,  indulge 
in  the  prosaic  satisfying  of  the  inner  man.  The  next 
thmg  is  a  savory  cigar,  one  of  the  choicest  companions 
for  the  seashore.  It  helps  one  to  deliberate.  Its 
fragrance  suggests  Cathay,  Zipango,  and  numerous 
romantic  heresies;  and  one  starts  off,  like  Marco  Polo, 
on  a  journey  of  discovery.  Chartering  a  dory,  I  push 
out  into  a  choppy  sea,  with  about  as  much  direct- 
ness as  did  the  Three  Wise  Men  in  a  Tub.  After 
a  squint  over  my  shoulder,  my  oars  catch  the  water 
and  the  rhythm  of  the  surf  on  the  rocks,  and  I  am 
off,  en  voyage. 

It  is  with  something  of  the  spirit  of  a  freebooter  of 
the  days  of  Kidd  and  Dixey  Bull,  that  I  pull  out  for 
the  little  haven  of  Smutty  Nose  wdiere  Haley  built 


394 


OLD   YORK 


his  rude  wharf.  The  water  slaps  the  nose  of  my 
dory  audibly,  and  as  I  glide  into  the  smooth  water 
of  Haley's  dock,  there  is  something  of  restful  quiet 
brooding  over  it.  There  is  nothing  of  an  attractive 
character  about  Smutty  Nose  Island,  for  its  name 
does  not  belie  its  general  appearance.  This  island  in 
days  agone  was  of  some  considerable  importance, 


'^I/^^-^ 


HALEY'S    WHARF 


and  was  somewhat  populous.  Williamson  says: 
"They  once  had  a  Court-house  on  Haley's  (a  name 
occasionally  given  to  Smutty  Nose)  Island;  and  in 
so  prosperous  a  state  were  these  Islands  that  they 
contained  from  four  to  six  hundred  souls.  Even 
gentlemen  from  some  of  the  principal  towns  on  the 
sea-coast  sent  their  sons  here  for  literary  instruction," 
These  islands  off  Portsmouth  Harbor  comprising 
the  Isles  of  Shoals,  were  once  deemed  of  so  much 
value  that  a  Royal  Commission  was  appointed  in 


OLD   YORK  395 

1737  to  survey  and  set  the  line  of  demarcation  be- 
tween the  two  Provinces,  that  is,  the  Massachusetts 
ProA'ince,  south,  and  the  Province  of  Maine,  north  of 
the  Piscataqua  River.  The  Court  decreed  "  that  the 
dividmg  Hue  shall  part  the  Isles  of  Shoals,  and  run 
through  the  middle  of  the  harbor,  between  the  islands, 
to  the  sea  on  the  southerly  side;  and  that  the  south- 
easterly part  of  said  islands  shall  lie  in,  and  be  ac- 
counted part  of,  the  Province  of  New  Hampshire; 
and  that  the  northeasterly  part  thereof  shall  lie  in, 
and  be  accounted  part  of,  the  Province  of  Massachu- 
setts Bay;  and  be  held  and  enjoyed  by  the  said  Prov- 
inces respectively,  in  the  same  manner  as  they  now  do 
and  have  heretofore  held  and  enjoyed  the  same." 

This  was  the  old  line  between  the  two  Provinces  es- 
tablished by  the  division  of  Laconia,  between  Mason 
and  Gorges,  and  confirmed  to  them  by  their  respect- 
ive charters  of  1629  and  1639,  but  this  decree  of 
1637  was  appealed  from,  and  on  ]\Iarch  5,  1740,  was 
affirmed  by  his  Majesty's  order.  The  charter  of 
William  and  Mary,  1691,  confirmed  the  old  Mason 
and  Gorges  division,  and  so  it  has  always  remained, 
leaving  the  islands  of  Appledore,  Malaga,  Smutty 
Nose  and  Duck,  as  a  part  and  parcel  of  Old  York. 

On  November  22,  1652,  the  proprietary  govern- 
ment of  Gorges  ended,  and  Massachusetts  Bay 
usurped  the  jurisdiction.  It  based  its  act  upon  its 
charter  of  1628,  which  related:  "All  those  lands 
which  lie,  and  be,  within  the  space  of  three  English 
miles  to  the  northward  of  the  river  Merrimac,  or  to  the 
northward  of  any  and  every  part  thereof,"   evidently 


396  OLD   YORK 

meaning  a  line  drawn  from  a  point  three  English  miles 
to  the  northward  from  the  source  of  that  river,  and 
of  which  Clapboard  Island  in  Casco  Bay  was  the  east- 
erly boundary.  This  jurisdiction  continued  until 
about  1664,  when  Charles  II  took  the  management 
of  the  Province  to  himself  and  his  Royal  Commis- 
sioners, which  was  Usurpation  II,  in  that,  that  the 
claims  of  Gorges  as  w^ell  as  those  of  Massachusetts 
Bay  were  each  and  severally  ignored  by  this  succes- 
sor to  the  Cromwellian  Commonwealth.  In  1667,  the 
Massachusetts  Bay  Province  purchased  of  the  Gorges 
heirs  the  charter  of  1639,  and  thereupon  assumed  that 
charter  of  government,  and  as  Lord  Proprietor  of 
the  Gorges  Grant,  and  as  successor  under  the  purchase, 
governed  the  Maine  Province  until  1691,  when, 
under  the  charter  of  William  and  Mary,  the  Maine 
Province  became  an  integral  constituent  of  the  Bay 
Colony,  and  so  continued  as  a  part  of  the  Common- 
wealth until  the  Dominion  of  Maine  was  endowed 
in  1820  with  statehood. 

In  recapitulating,  it  is  easy  to  follow  the  several 
governments  which  have  exercised  authority  over 
this  earliest  of  the  habitable  coast  of  Maine.  The 
first  was  the  Proprietary  Government  of  Gorges  under 
his  charter  of  1639,  and  which  continued  until  1652. 
Then  followed  the  Government  of  Massachusetts 
Bay,  whose  cycle  of  authority  may  be  divided  into 
four  segments  —  namely,  under  the  charter  of  1628,, 
or  by  usurpation  which  extended  down  to  1677,  with 
the  exception  of  the  four  years  from  1664  to  1668, 
during    which    time    the    Royal    Commissioners    of 


OLD    YORK  397 

Charles  II  held  the  Provmcial  reins;  under  the 
Gorges  charter,  1639,  by  purchase,  from  1667  to  1691; 
under  the  charter  of  1691,  from  that  time  to  the  Com- 
monwealth; under  the  Commonwealth  to  the  erection 
of  the  Dominion  into  the  State  of  Maine  in  1820. 

When  the  census  was  taken  in  1852,  there  were 
nineteen  people  upon  these  islands  on  the  Maine  side 
of  the  line.  When  Louis  Wagner  rowed  from  the 
foot  of  Pickering  Street,  Portsmouthside,  to  Smutty 
Nose  in  Burke's  dory,  that  March  night  of  1873,  there 
were  four  people  living  on  Smutty  Nose. 

Suppose  one  goes  back  to  the  beginning  of  the 
York  Court  Records  —  I  think  they  began  with  the 
settlement,  and  most  that  happened  of  any  conse- 
quence they  seem  to  have  taken  cognizance  of.  On 
one  of  these  musty  time-yellowed  pages  one  finds  this: 
"  At  a  court  holden  at  Wells  by  the  Justices  of  the 
Peace  for  the  Province  of  Maine,  appointed  by  com- 
mission from  the  Right  Hon.  Sir  Robert  Carr,  Kjiight, 
George  Cartwright,  and  Samuel  Maverick,  on  this 
10th  day  of  July,  fourteenth  year  of  the  reign  of  our 
Sovereign  Lord,  the  King,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord 
1665. 

"Ordered  by  the  court  that  an  exact  injmiction 
issue  out  by  the  Recorder,  prohibiting  all  persons 
whatsoever,  after  the  receipt  hereof,  to  sell  by  retail 
any  small  quantity  to  any  person  whatsoever,  at  or  on 
the  Isle  of  Shoals,  in  any  part  thereof  belonging  to  this 
counte,  viz.:  Smutty  Nose  Hog  Island,  &c.,  wine  or 
strong  liquors,  under  the  penalty  of  ten  pomids  for 
every  such  offense." 


398  OLD   YORK 

This  is  the  first  application  of  the  Prohibitory  Law, 
for  which  Maine  has  become  famous  in  one  way  or 
another,  in  the  province,  and  it  is  notable  that  the 
penalty  is  about  the  same  as  in  these  more  modern 
days  when  money  is  easier,  and  values  are  more 
elastic. 

Glancing  over  another  old  volume  I  find  this: 
"At  a  court  of  pleas,  houlden  for  the  Province  of 
Mayne,  at  Yorke,  under  the  authority  of  his  majesty, 
and  subordinately,  the  heirs  of  Sir  Ferdindo  Gorges, 
Kt.,  by  the  worship'll  John  Daviss,  Major,  Capt. 
Josua  Scottow,  Capt.  Jon  Wincoll,  Mr.  Fran.  Hooke, 
Mr,  Samuell  Wheelwright,  Capt.  Charles  Frost,  and 
Edward  Rishworth,  Recor.,  Just.  Pe.,  and  Counsellors 
of  tliis  Province,  April  6,  1681.  .  .  . 

"  For  the  better  and  more  peaceably  settling  of  all 
matters,  civil  and  criminal,  at  the  Isles  of  Shoals, 
this  court  do  judge,  meete,  and  do  appointe  a  court 
of  sessions  to  be  holden  at  Smutty  Nose  Island,  upon 
the  first  Wednesday  of  June  next  ensuing,  where- 
unto  Mayor  Davis  and  Capt  Fran  Hook  are  ap- 
pointed to  repair  and  invest  it  with  power  to  join 
with  the  commissioners  of  these  Islands,  Mr.  Kelley 
and  Mr.  Dyamont,  to  keep  a  court  for  trial  of  actions 
as  high  as  ten  pounds."  I  find  in  the  same  time- 
yellowed  tome:  "At  a  Court  of  Sessions  holden  at 
Smutty  Nose  Island  upon  the  Isles  of  Shoals  belong- 
ing to  the  Province  of  Maine,  by  Edward  Rishworth, 
Justice,  and  Mr.  Andrew  Fryer,  Commissioner  by 
the  appointment  of  General  Assembly  at  Wells, 
Aug.  10th,  1681,  upon  the  9th  day  of  November,  1681. 


OLD   YORK  399 

"We  have  called  said  Court  at  the  time  prefixed, 
several  persons  presented.  Thomas  Harding,  Nicho- 
las Bickford,  and  Augustine  Parker,  summoned  by 
Mr.  Thomas  Penney,  constable;  but  said  Harding 
appeared  not;  the  others  referred  themselves  to  the 
court  and  were  fined  ten  shillings  each  person,  by 
the  province,  and  ten  shillings  fees  to  the  Marshall 
and  Recorder,  which  Mr.  Kelley  stands  engaged  to 
pay  in  their  behalf.  Edw.  Randall  appeared  and 
fined  five  shillings  to  the  province  and  five  shillings 
officers'  fees,  which  Mr.  Fryer  engaged  in  his  behalf 
to  pay  Mr.  Kelley.  Eyers  Berry  owneth  a  judge- 
ment of  twenty  shillings  due  from  him  to  Hugh 
Allard  to  be  paid  him  on  demand. 

"Robert  Marr  complained  of  by  Mr.  Kelley  for 
abusing  of  said  Kelley  and  his  wife,  by  way  of  oppro- 
brious language,  which  was  proved  by  sufficient 
evidence.  The  Court  considering  the  premises,  do 
order  the  delinc^uent  for  his  miscarriage  herein,  either 
forthwith  to  make  public  acknowledgement  of  his 
fault  for  defaming  Roger  Kelley  and  his  wife,  or  upon 
refusal  to  receive  ten  stripes  well  laid  on  at  the  post 
and  to  pay  costs  of  Court,  seven  shillmgs. 

"Robert  Marr  made  public  acknowledgement  of 
his  fault  in  open  Court  for  defaming  Mr.  Kelley  and 
his  wife,  which  he  declared  his  sorrow  for,  promising 
amendment  for  the  future. 

"The  Court  further  requires  ten  pounds  for  his 
good  behavior  for  future.  Robert  Marr  came  into 
Court  and  owned  himself  bound  in  a  bond  of  ten 
pounds  to  the  treasurer  of  this  Province  to  be  of 


400  OLD   YORK 

good  abearance  and  behavior  to  Roger  Kelley  and 
Mary  his  wife,  and  ah  other  his  Majesty's  subjects, 
unto  the  next  Court  of  Pleas  holden  for  this  Province." 

From  the  same  volume,  one  gets  another  glimpse 
at  the  happenings  of  the  times  hereabout:  "At  a 
General  Assembly,  holden  at  York,  for  the  Province 
of  Maine,  this  25th  day  of  June,  1684,  by  the  Honor- 
able Thomas  Danforth,  Esq.,  President  of  said  Prov- 
ince, Major  Jolin  Davis,  Deputy  President,  Mr. 
No  well.  Assistant,  Joshua  Suttow,  John  Wincoll, 
Frank  Hook,  Charles  Frost,  Edward  Tynge,  and  Ed- 
ward Rishworth,  Recorder,  his  Majesty's  Justice  of 
the  aforesaid  Province.  .  .  .  For  the  better  settling 
of  persons  and  matters  in  that  part  of  the  Isles  of 
Shoals,  being  the  Western  Islands  belonging  to  this 
province,  it  is  hereby  ordered  by  this  Court  that 
Mayor  Jolm  Davis,  Mr.  Edward  Rishworth,  Capt. 
Francis  Hook,  and  Capt.  Charles  Frost,  or  any  three 
of  them,  shall  and  hereby  are  appointed  with  all  con- 
venient speed  to  repair  unto  Smutty  Nose  Island  and 
there  to  hold  a  Court  of  Sessions  for  the  Western 
Islands  for  trial  of  actions,  and  to  make  diligent 
inquiry  into  the  state  of  the  people,  and  to  require 
their  attendance  to  their  duties  to  his  majesty's 
authority  established  in  this  province  according  to 
law." 

In  the  same  •  year,  James  Vanderhill  was  "  ap- 
pointed for  a  Grand  Juryman  for  these  Northern 
Islands  for  the  year  ensuing,  and  Mr.  Diamond  is 
ordered  to  give  him  his  oath." 

So  it  is  seen  that  however  deserted  and  barren  these 


OLD   YORK 


401 


islands  may  now  seem,  hedged  about  by  the  Atlantic- 
tides,  here  was  once  a  populous  appurtenant  to  old 
Yorkshire,  the  first  county  erected  in  this  province. 
Under  the  Massachusetts  Bay  jurisdiction,  the  Isles 
of  Shoals  were  erected  into  a  town  known  as  Apple- 
dore,  and  in  1672  were  annexed  to  the  county  of 
Dover.     Yorkshire   was   incorporated   in    1652,    and 


SMUTTY    NOSE 

when    Maine    became    a    state,     these     "Northern 
Islands"  became  a  part  of  the  old  county  of  York 

once  more. 

Th  shores  of  Smutty  Nose  are  ragged  and  black- 
ened with  seaweed.  In  fact,  they  are  of  forbidding 
asp-ct,  and  from  this  old  dock  where  Haley  once 
moored  his  boats  the  outlook  is  a  barren  one.  A 
quartette  of  wan,  unpainted,  weatherbeaten  huts 
l:>reak  the  line  of  its  low  and  somewhat  irregular 
horizon,  and  it  is  toward  one  of  them  I  make  my  way 
over  the  rough  path  that  leads  upward  from  the  sea. 


402  OLD   YORK 

I  hardly  think  I  should  have  taken  the  trouble  to 
have  rowed  hither,  had  it  not  been  for  one  of  these 
old  houses,  and  which  particular  house  I  connect  very 
vividly  with  the  dark  tragedy  of  a  generation  ago, 
when  Louis  Wagner  added  to  its  traditions  of  wreck, 
of  smuggling,  and  of  piracy,  the  more  authentic  epi- 
sode that  has  given  to  this  dorsal  of  dingy  rock  a 
lasting  place  in  the  local  history  of  crime.  Whatever 
of  credence  one  might  give  to  the  story  of  old  man 
Haley's  finding  four  huge  ingots  of  silver  under  a  flat 
stone  among  the  nubbles  of  Smutty  Nose,  or  the  raid- 
ings  of  the  pirate  Low  upon  its  hardy  fishermen,  or 
its  more  notorious  familiars  Bradish,  Bellamy,  and 
Pound,  is  dependable;  but  the  ruddy  stain  left  by 
Wagner  among  its  snow-patched  hollows  will  come 
with  every  setting  of  the  sun.  But  these  were  not 
all,  for  there  were  Hawkins,  Quelch,  and  Phillips,  the 
latter  of  whom  was  killed  by  one  John  Fillmore,  of 
the  fishing-crew  of  the  Dolphin,  sailing  out  of  Cape 
Ann.  Fillmore  was  an  Ipswich  man,  and  he  rebelletl 
against  the  enforced  outlawry  exacted  of  him  by 
Phillips  after  the  latter's  capture  of  the  fishing- 
smack.  Fillmore  brought  the  pirate's  craft  into 
Boston.  From  Drake  one  learns  that  this  John 
Fillmore  was  the  great-grandfather  of  Millard  Fill- 
more, the  president  of  pro-slavery  days. 

These  islands  were  said  to  have  once  been  the 
lounging-place  of  the  celebrated  Captain  Kidd,  and 
that  he  buried  vast  treasures  here;  but  these  tales 
are  mere  far-away  traditions  to  tell  the  children  at 
nightfall  to  the  low  moanmg  of  the  near-by  sea. 


OLD   YORK 


403 


Recalling  the  Wagner  tragedy,  one  comes  dow^l 
from  the  days  of  old-time  lore  to  the  not  far-away 
year  of  1873,  which  was  the  year  following  my  admis- 
sion to  the  bar,  and  which  perhaps  accomits  for  my 
interest  in  what  happened  in  an  adjoinmg  county  at 
that  time.  When  the  stor}^  of  Annethe  and  Karen 
Christensen  came  to  my  breakfast  table,  the  fragrant 
coffee  and  its  accompanying  roll  were  forgotten  in 
the  perusal  of  the  minute  and  horrifying  details  that 
has  ever  since  given  to  this  locality  a  sinister  color 


and  a  tragic  association.  I  had  always  desired  to 
see  the  Hontvet  rookery  so  minutely  described  to  the 
jury  by  poor  Mary  Hontvet,  and  who,  by  the  way, 
never  returned  to  it  after  her  husband,  John  Hontvet, 
found  her  among  the  frost-bitten  rocks  of  Smutty 
Nose  on  that  March  morning,  and  among  which  she 
had  hidden  as  the  moon  was  setting  over  the  roofs 
of  Portsmouth  but  a  few  hours  before.  Kindly 
disposed  were  those  black  ribs  of  granite  for  once. 

I  had  a  morbid  curiosity  to  see  what  could  be  seen 
from  that  window  out  which  Annethe  Christensen 
leapt  to  meet  the  murderous  axe  of  Lends  ^^'agner; 


404  OLD   YORK 

for  this  Mary  Hontvet  had  painted  a  ghastly  picture 
with  the  accused  Wagner  m  the  dock,  who  was  one 
of  her  most  attentive  Hsteners.  I  thought  I  might 
be  able,  standing  within  its  narrow  ledge,  to  see  it  in 
its  actuality.  I  hauled  the  dory  ashore,  and  it  oc- 
curred to  me  that  it  might  have  been  right  here  that 
Wagner  landed  on  that  March  midnight  m  the  dory  he 
had  stolen  from  Burke,  when  he  had  ascertained  from 
Jolm  Hontvet  that  the  women  were  to  be  alone  that 
night  while  he  —  Hontvet  —  remained  with  Annethe 
Christensen's  husband,  baiting  trawls  in  ]\Irs.  John- 
son's Portsmouth  kitchen.  No  doubt  he  had  made 
directly  for  the  Hontvet  house,  for  he  believed  there 
was  money  there  to  be  had  for  the  taking.  Mary 
Hontvet,  Annethe  and  Karen  Christensen  were  the 
only  occupants  of  the  island.  Wagner's  object  was 
robbery.  He  told  Hontvet  the  afternoon  before  the 
commission  of  the  crime  that  he  had  to  have  money, 
if  he  had  to  murder  for  it  —  and  he  did.  It  was  a 
grim  remark  to  make  to  the  man  whose  house  he  was 
to  enter  so  soon,  feloniously. 

The  old  house  came  more  clearly  into  view^  as  I  got 
a  bit  up  from  the  dock;  and  as  I  drew  near  it  I  saw 
that  it  had  l^een  sadly  shorn  and  neglected.  The 
shingles  seemed  to  still  cleave  to  its  sagging  roof,  but 
falteringly;  but  the  clapboards  were  going  the  way 
of  the  blood-stained  wall  paper  and  the  window 
sash.  The  souvenir  hunter  had  been  here  in  force, 
and  I  doubt  not  but  by  this  time  the  whole  house 
has  been  distributed  after  a  fashion.  The  lintels 
of  the  door  were  doorless,  and  the  winds  from  the 


OLD   YORK  405 

sea  had  been  blowing  over  this  deserted  threshold 
for  many  years.  I  went  into  the  house,  through 
which  the  storms  of  years  had  likewise  surged,  drench- 
ing its  silent  floors  with  wet,  and  as  I  stood  amid  the 
broken  shadows  of  its  blanched  walls,  I  had  no  diffi- 
culty in  recalling  the  crime  and  its  details  with  photo- 
graphic distinctness.  First  of  all  was  the  crowded 
court  room  and  its  tediously  selected  panel  of  twelve 
jur}Tnen;  the  distinguished  and  scholarly  justice  who 
presided,  the  Hon.  Justice  Barrows;  and  below,  about 
the  bar,  the  like  distinguished  counsel  and  its  on- 
looking  members;  and  behind  the  somewhat  con- 
tracted space  occupied  by  the  lawyers,  the  awed  and 
gaping  adjimct  of  humanity  whose  curiosit}^,  or 
resentment,  had  overflowed  the  bounds  of  capacity 
and  comfort  alike.  From  the  challenge  to  the  array, 
the  motion  to  "quash"  the  indictment,  because  the 
allegation  of  the  place  where  the  offence  was  com- 
mitted was  indefinite  and  uncertain  and  not  in  con- 
formity to  law,  to  the  final  "Yes  "  of  the  foreman 
and  his  associates  upon  the  jury,  when  asked  upon 
their  oaths  to  say  whether  the  prisoner  was  guilty 
of  murder  in  the  first  degree,  the  picture  is  as  dis- 
tinctly drawn  as  the  landscape  framed  within  this 
old  window  through  which  Mary  Hontvet  saw  the 
act  which  she  so  simply  and  yet  so  graphically 
described. 

Through  it  all  filtered  the  low  moan  of  the  waters 
on  the  outer  rocks,  the  same  that  sounded  through 
that  fearful  night.  All  that  was  needed  to  repeople  the 
house  with  the  Hontvet  woman  and  the  two  Christen- 


406  OLD   YORK 

sen  girlp,  and  the  low-browed  Prussian,  Wagner,  was 
the  pale  light  of  the  moon  and  the  glittering  snow 
above  the  blackness  of  the  sea,  and  the  otherwise 
weirdly  oppressive  silence  of  the  hour  when  ghosts 
are  said  to  be  abroad. 

This  night  of  the  fifth  and  sixth  of  March,  1873,  was 
brilliantly  moon-lit.  There  was  a  light  snowfall  a 
short  time  before,  and  Smutty  Nose  lay  along  the 
dusky  plane  of  the  sea,  a  mass  of  glittermg  luminous- 
ness.  These  three  women  were  the  only  occupants  of 
this  isolated  island.  By  the  clock  on  the  kitchen 
mantel  it  was  bedtime,  and  the  lights  were  blo^^^^ 
out.  The  old  house  was  asleep,  and  its  dwellers  as 
weh.  Mary  Hontvet  and  Annethe  Christensen  oc- 
cupying the  sleeping-room,  while  Karen,  the  sister 
of  Evan,  Annethe's  husband,  made  up  a  couch  on  the 
lounge  imder  the  kitchen  mantel.  The  little  clock 
ticked  on  and  on,  until  seven  minutes  past  one.  Mid- 
night had  gone.  There  was  a  shrill  outcry  from 
Karen,  and  Karen  and  the  clock  fell  to  the  floor 
together.  When  the  clock  fell,  it  stopped  to  mark 
the  time  when  the  first  murderous  blow  fell  upon  the 
helpless  Karen. 

Sometime  before  the  lock  on  the  house  door  had 
been  broken,  and  the  intruder  had  no  difficulty  in 
going  into  a  house  with  the  mterior  of  which  he  was 
well  acciuainted,  for  he  had  lived  with  these  Hontvets 
somewhat  in  days  gone.  Undoubtedly  it  was  a 
matter  of  surprise  to  Wagner,  when  he  found  Karen 
in  his  pathway.  Karen  must  be  killed,  if  he  was  to 
get   Jolm   Hontvet's   money,   which    he   knew   was 


OLD   YORK  407 

in   the  house.     Hontvet  had  told  Wagner  he   had 
stocked  six  hundred  dollars  on  his  winter  trips  fish- 
ing, and  that  was  what  he  had  rowed  from  Ports- 
mouth for.     Dead  women,  like  dead  men,   tell  no 
tales,  and  with  his  hand  to  the  plough,  the  red  furrow 
must  be  turned.     The  tumult  in  the  kitchen  aroused 
the  older  women ;  but  let  Mary  Hontvet  say  it  for 
me,  just  as  she  said  it  to  the  jury:  "As  soon  as  I 
heard  her  (Karen)  halloo  out,  'John  killed   me!'  I 
jumped  up  out  of  bed,  and  tried  to  open  my  bedroom 
door.     I  tried  to  get  it  open,  but  could  not;  it  was 
fastened.     He  kept  on  striking  her  there,  and  I  tried 
to  get  the  door  open,  but  I  could  not;  the  door  was 
fastened.     She  fell  down  on  the  floor  under  the  table; 
then  the  door  was  left  open  for  me  to  go  in.     When  I 
got  the  door  open,  I  looked  out  and  saw  a  fellow 
standing  right  alongside  of  the  window.     I  saw  it  was 
a  great,  tall  man.     He  grabbed  a  chair  with  both 
hands,  a  chair  standing  alongside  of  him.     I  hurried  up 
to  Karen,  my  sister,  and  held  one  hand  on  to  the  door, 
and  took  her  with  my  other  arm,  and  carried  her  in  as 
quick  as  I  could.     When  I  was  standing  there,  he 
struck  me  twice,  and  I  held  on  to  the  door.     I  told 
my  sister  Karen  to  hold  on  to  the  door,  when  I  opened 
the  window,  and  we  were  trying  to  get  out.     She  said, 
'  No,  I  can't  do  it,  I  am  so  tired.'   She  laid  on  the  floor 
on  her  knees,  and  hanging  her  arms  on  the  bed.     I 
told  Annethe  to  come  up  and  open  the  window,  and 
to  run  out  and  take  some  clothes  on  her.     Annethe 
opened  the  window,  and  left  the  window  open,  and 
run  out  —  jumped  out  of  the  window. 


408  OLD   YORK 

"I  told  her  to  run,  and  she  said,  'I  can't  run.'  I 
said,  you  halloo,  might  somebody  hear  from  the  other 
islands.  She  said  — '  I  cannot  halloo.'  AVhen  I  was 
standing  there  at  the  door  he  was  trying  to  get  in 
three  times,  knocked  at  the  door  three  times,  when  I 
was  standing  at  the  door.  When  he  found  he  could 
not  get  in  that  way,  he  went  outside,  and  Aimethe 
saw  him  on  the  corner  of  the  house.  She  next 
hallooed,  'Louis!  Louis!  Louis!'  a  good  many  times, 
and  I  jumped  to  the  window  and  looked  out,  and 
when  he  got  a  little  further  I  saw  him  out  at  the  win- 
dow, and  he  stopped  a  moment  out  there.  It  was 
Louis  Wagner.  And  he  turned  around  again,  and 
when  Annethe  saw  him  coming  from  the  corner  of 
the  house,  back  again  with  a  big  axe,  she  hallooed 
out,  'Louis!  Louis!'  again,  a  good  many  times  she 
hallooed  out,  '  Louis,'  till  he  struck  her.  He  struck 
her  with  a  great  big  axe.  After  she  fell  domi  he 
struck  her  twice." 

What  a  graphic  story,  this  of  Mary  Hontvet!  In 
her  terror  she  leapt  from  the  same  window,  leaving 
the  wounded  Karen  by  the  bed.  Once  safely  away 
she  burrowed  among  the  black  rocks  of  the  shore,  as 
the  moon  was  going  down  beyond  the  roofs  of  Ports- 
mouth, and  where  John  Hontvet  was  still  baiting  his 
trawls.  When  his  trawls  were  baited,  John  Hontvet 
and  Evan  Christensen  pushed  out  the  Portsmouth 
dock  to  see,  still  afar  off  on  the  rocks  of  Smutty  Nose, 
the  isolate  form  of  a  woman  etched  against  the  dawn. 

It  was  Mary  Hontvet. 

His  wife  led  liim  to  the  house.     In  telling  his  story 


OLD   YORK 


409 


to  tlie  jury,  he  said:  "I  found  Annetho  Christenpon 
lying  on  the  floor  with  her  face  up,  a  heavy  IdIow  under 
her  eyes,  a  cut  near  her  ear.  I  found  a  chair  all 
broken  up,  and  the  clock  was  down  from  the  shelf,  and 
a  mark  on  it  where  it  was  struck  with  something;  it 


lay  on  the  lounge,  face  down,  and  stopped  at  seven 
minutes  past  one." 

One  of  the  coroner's  jury  adds:  "Around  the 
throat  was  tied  a  scarf  or  shawl,  some  colored  woolen 
garment,  and  over  the  body  some  article  of  clothhig 
w\as  thrown  loosely."  Karen  was  found  not  the  less 
brutally  beaten. 

As  I  stood  by  that  window  I  saw  it  all,  and  I  heard 
the  cry,  "Louis!"  as  plainly  as  did  Mary  Hontvet,  so 


410  OLD   YORK 

potent  was  the  spell  of  the  locality.     I  say  I  heard 
the  cry  —  I  thought  I  did,  and  that  was  all. 

That  cry  convicted  the  murderer,  as  it  ought. 

There  are  some  old  graves  here  that  I  recalled  as  I 
turned  from  the  old  house,  dun  colored  and  weather 
stained,  and  this  was  all  there  was  to  suggest  the 
swarthy  AVagner  and  the  tragedy  of  Smutty  Nose  on 
that  bright  sunny  afternoon.  As  for  the  graves,  I 
knew  the  story  of  the  Sagimto,  but  there  were  so 
many  tales  of  wrecks  at  hand,  that,  with  a  swift  sur- 
vey of  the  haunted  rookery  of  the  Hontvets,  I  has- 
tened back  to  my  dory,  to  find  the  tide  had  turned, 
and  that  my  craft  a  few  moments  later  would  have 
left  me  in  the  lurch. 

Away  from  the  shingle  that  glistens  under  the  slant 
glory  of  the  sun  the  sea  is  again  swashing  against  the 
thwarts  of  my  dory  and  sending  the  fine  spray  into 
my  face.  I  saw  a  sail  in  the  ofhng  which  I  thought 
might  be  that  of  the  bold  Captain  Kidd;  and  as  I 
looked  over  Appledore  way  I  thought  I  saw  "  Old 
Bab,"  the  pirate  spectre,  signalling  Kidd  that  there 
were  strangers  about.  I  saw  the  sail,  and  there  was 
the  figure  of  a  man  limned  against  the  not  far-away 
horizon  of  Appledore.     Farther  I  cannot  vouch. 

During  the  Revolutionary  War  the  Government 
ordered  the  inhabitants  of  the  Isles  of  Shoals  to  va- 
cate the  islands,  which  they  did,  taking  with  them 
not  only  their  household  goods  but  their  dwellings. 
Old  Parson  "  John  Tucke's  house  was  taken  down  by 
his  son  in  law  and  carried  across  water  to  York  in 
17S0, "  so    the   Gosport    records  have   it.     Gosport 


OLD   YORK  411 

was  the  name  of  the  fishing  village  here.  This  island 
was  once  fortified,  boasting  a  slender  armament  of 
four-pounders,  but  one  can  hardly  discover  at  this 
day  where  the  ground  was  broken  for  the  old  fort. 
That  was  in  the  early  days  of  the  French  occupation, 
when  sorties  by  sea  out  of  Quebec  were  not  infrequent, 
and  when  the  shore  to^vns  eastward  w^re  more  or  less 
harried.  The  site  of  this  ante-Revolutionary  defence 
was  at  the  western  end  of  the  island.  A  faintly 
drawn  wrinkle  along  the  impoverished  sward  but 
meagrely  suggests  the  scant  panoply  of  war  com- 
prised in  its  nine  small  cannon  that  once  looked  out 
toward  the  setting  sun.  Its  construction  undoubtedly 
followed  the  fashion  of  those  described  by  Hutchin- 
son in  his  ]\Iassachusetts  history. 

In  1660  there  were  forty  families  here;  in  1661 
the  General  Court  of  the  Bay  province  incorporated 
these  islands  into  the  towTi  of  Appledore,  and  here, 
among  its  earliest  ministers,  came  John  Brock,  whose 
memory  is  linked  with  traditions  of  miracles,  two  of 
which  will  bear  the  retelling. 

There  was,  in  Ms  time,  at  the  Isles  of  Shoals  a 
fisherman  who  possessed  much  kindliness  of  feeling 
toward  his  neighbors,  and  whose  boat  was  always  at 
the  service  of  the  people  on  the  adjacent  islands  who 
"kept  church."  A  storm  came  up  and  swept  the 
boat  away.  The  fisherman  sought  his  pastor,  into 
whose  sympathetic  ear  he  poured  his  tale  of  loss. 

"Go  home  contented,  good  sir.  I'll  mention  the 
matter  to  the  Lord.  To-morrow  you  may  expect  to 
find  your  boat,"  was   Parson   Brock's   encouraging 


412 


OLD   YORK 


reply;   and   he  supplemented   his   assurance  with  a 
heart-felt  prayer. 

The  following  day,  the  parson's  prophecy  was  ful- 
filled; for  the  lost  boat  was  brought  up  from  the 
depths  of  the  sea  on  the  fluke  of  an  anchor  of  an  in- 
coming vessel;  and  not  only  was  the  heart  of  its 


ALONG  SMUTTY  NOSE  SHORE 


owner  made  glad,  but  his  faith  was  strengthened  and 
made  sure. 

Another  instance  of  the  good  minister's  miraculous 
powers  is  afforded  in  the  tradition  of  the  healing  of 
the  Arnold  child.  This  little  one  fell  ill  and  wasted 
away  until  death  came,  apparently.  The  parson 
called  on  the  sadly  bereaved  parents  and  bade  them 


OLD   YORK  413 

to  be  of  good  cheer.  He  then  prayed  for  the 
restoration  of  the  child's  hfe,  of  which  a  part  has 
come  down  through  the  years.     And  here  it  is  : 

"  0  Lord,  be  pleased  to  give'  some  token  before  we 
leave  prayer  that  Thou  wilt  spare  this  child's  life! 
Until  it  be  granted  w^e  cannot  leave  Thee!"  These 
closing  words  were  uttered  with  all  the  fervor  of  a 
soulful  faith. 

Strange  to  relate,  the  child  sneezed,  to  afterward 
regain  its  full  health. 

These  islands  possess  much  of  scenic  grandeur, 
especially  under  the  stress  of  a  furious  storm,  when 
the  gloom  of  the  sky  hugs  their  black  rocks  and  the 
indriven  mists  and  the  spray  soften  their  hard  lines. 
Then  the  barren  ribs  of  these  islands  seem  to  grow 
more  virile;  and  one  can  feel  them  throb  under  the 
pounding  of  the  huge  waves  that  roll  in  from  the 
outer  seas.  Then  it  is  that  the  imagination  warms 
up,  and  the  old  tales  that  hang,  as  it  were,  by  shreds 
to  this  nakedness  of  earth-denuded  granite,  clothes 
them  with  the  impalpable,  and  strange  sounds  vibrate 
on  the  ear.  It  is  as  if  a  host  of  disembodied  spirits 
hover  at  one's  elbow  to  weave  anew  the  spell  of  the 
old  days,  and  one  sees  a  half  score  of  quaint  hulls  of 
fishing-vessels  within  hail;  inbreathes  the  savory 
odors  of  the  fish  drying  on  the  flakes  that  cover 
these  island  slopes;  sniffs  the  pungent  smokes  from 
the  huddle  of  chimneys  against  the  horizon  blown 
down  the  freshening  wind,  and  singles  out  the  shouts 
of  children  from  those  of  the  men  about  the  old- 
time  fish-houses.     One  rubs  his  wits,  as  Aladdin  did 


414 


OLD   YORK 


his  lamp,  and  their  servants  rehabilitate  these 
silent  shores  with  their  ancient  picturesqueness;  and 
up  and  down  the  by-ways  of  old  Gosport  one  sees 
Parson  Tucke  wending  his  way,  serenely,  dropping 
here  and  there  a  kindly  word,  as  was  his  reputed 
fashion. 

But  there  is  always  the  incessant  surge  and  sound 
of  the  sea.     Each  rocky  buttress  is  a  huge  mailed 


hand  to  smite  back  these  waters  that  momently 
return  the  challenge  with  redoubled  tumult.  But 
of  these  seven  stone  heaps  in  the  sea,  what  might  be 
said  of  one  is  pertinent  to  all,  except  as  to  area;  for 
of  them  all  Appledore  is  the  largest,  and  yet  it  seems 
always  to  have  held  the  lesser  place  in  history  and 
tradition.  Strike  a  circle  about  the  Isles  of  Shoals 
and  its  axis  would  he  somewhere  within  the  southern 
half  of  Appledore,  and  from  thence  to  any  point  of 
its  periphery  would  be  a  scant  two  miles  and  a  half. 
Star  Island,  though  somewhat  south  of  this  axis,  was 


OLD   YORK  415 

evidently  the  most  favorable  location  for  the  centre 
of  its  commerce. 

From  Duck  Island  on  the  north  to  White  Island 
Light  on  the  south  it  is  about  five  miles,  as  the  crow 
flies.  All  these  islands  are  boldly  marked  b}'  broken 
shores,  softened  by  their  broideries  of  a  few  sea  flora ; 
bastioned  with  crag-like  or  castellated  piles  of  solid 
rock;  striated,  gullied,  fissvu-ed,  and  rent  and  seamed 
with  rudely  sculptured  galleries  and  shadow-haunted 
caverns  that  resound  to  the  constant  bass  of  old 


.-W^ 


DUCK    ISLAND 


ocean,  the  warp  into  which  are  woven  the  lighter 
notes,  the  Glorias  and  Te  Deums  of  Nature  that  are 
ever  throbbing  on  the  air  hereabout.  Nor  can  one 
say  they  are  at  all  alike,  for  they  are  physically  unlike. 
If  one  makes  their  close  acquaintance  it  is  to  rec- 
ognize their  individual  charm  and  fascination,  and 
their  power  to  beget  dreams  and  ruder  fancies  under 
the  influence  of  their  picturesque  environment.  Each 
has  its  own  lore  of  tradition,  and  each  after  a  like 
fashion  becomes  one's  famihar;  and  one's  errant  foot- 
steps are  clogged  with  a  color  of  regret,  as  if  these 


416 


OLD   YORK 


secluded  retreats  held  some  long-sought  panacea  for 
the  unrest  that  is  the  heritage  of  all  humanity. 

After  one's  mid  Shoals  jaunt  by  water,  one  natur- 
ally gets  back  to  Star  Island,  as  one  is  likely  to  reach 
it  first  as  one  comes  hither.  My  dory  buries  its  nose 
again  in  the  drift  of  kelp  and  devil's  apron  that  seems 
ever  sliding  up  and  down  these  wet  rocks  with  the 
lapping  of  the  tide,  and  I  am  ashore  to  find  here  the 
same  multi-dyed  lichens  as  on  Appledore  and  Smutty 


LONDONERS    ISLAND 


Nose.  The  patches  of  grass  in  the  hollows  between 
the  out-cropping  ledges  possess  the  same  brilliancy 
of  coloring  of  intense  emerald,  to  the  bleached-out 
stuffs  whose  color  fabrics  are  made  up  of  vagrant 
weeds.  Here  is  a  huge  bull  thistle,  the  only  one  I 
have  found,  thickly  armored  with  dangerous  spines, 
surmounted,  Hessian-like,  by  a  like  huge  pompon 
of  softly  luminous  pink,  to  make  one  think  of  an 
inland  hillside  pasture.  I  imagine  this  verdure  later 
in  the  season  will  have  ripened  into  sharper  contrasts 
of  color;  but  with  the  blue  water  and  the  cyane  of 


OLD   YORK 


417 


the  sky  there  are  hints  of  tone  values  here  that  give 
one  an  itching  for  a  few  colors,  a  brush,  and  a  bit 
of  Whatman  paper,  so  lively  is  the  desire  to  catch 
and  hold  permanently  something  of  this  elusive 
yet  luminant  flood  of  sun  and  shadow. 

There  are  some  remnants  of  the  human  touch  here 
on  Star  Island.  Here  is  an  old  stone  church,  a  huddle 
of  graves  which  one  would  hardly  take  for  such,  ex- 
cept for  a  pair  of  weather-worn  slabs  which  are  about 


OLD    STONE    CHURCH 

the  only  things  translatable  into  memorials  of  an 
older  people;  for  this  old  graveyard  is  a  closed  book, 
strewn  as  it  is  with  rough  boulders,  nameless,  date- 
less, that  mark  the  almost  obliterated  mounds. 
Whatever  of  annals  it  ever  had  are  now  comprised 
in  the  stones  that  tell  one  that  here  lie  the  remains 
of  the  Rev.  John  Tucke  and  Parson  Josiah  Stevens. 
The  epitaph  on  the  stone  of  the  former  is  suggestive 
of  a  life  of  great  piety  and  loving  labor,  and  all  for  a 
stipend  of  a  quintal  of  winter  fish  per  year  from  each 
islander,  and  wood  enough  for  his  needs.     Parson 


418  OLD   YORK 

Tucke  was  the  teacher  of  its  schools,  which  attained 
to  some  celebrity,  and  he  was  likewise  physician,  as 
well  as  preacher.  It  is  safe  to  assume  that  when 
the  Lord  of  the  vineyard  came  he  gave  ten  talents 
for  one.  He  was  of  the  class  of  1723  at  Harvard, 
and  began  his  ministry  here  nine  years  later.  He 
was  here  until  his  death,  which  came  in  1773. 

Upon  Star  Island's  windiest  knoll  is  the  memorial 
to  Capt.  John  Smith,  whose  marble  shaft  points 
upward  always,  along  with  the  quaint  tower  on  the 
meeting-house  close  by,  that  makes  one  think  of  the 
days  of  New  Amsterdam  and  the  gables  of  the  days 
of  Peter  Stuyvesant,  better  known  among  his  com- 
peers as  "Hard  koppig  Piet," — Headstrong  Peter, 
—  and  by  others  as  "Old  Silver  Leg."  This  little 
church  tower  is  as  well  suggestive  of  Dutch  tiles  and 
windmills  and  the  lazy  boats  of  Holland;  but  it 
overlooks  the  sea  in  all  directions,  and  has  seen 
more  than  it  can  ever  tell,  begin  its  tales  as  soon  as 
it  may.  There  is  a  grim  companionship  in  these 
remnants  of  an  older  day,  and  one  looks  at  them  all 
expectantly,  but  they  are  all  alike  silent  and  in- 
scrutable. 

Little  or  no  romance  outwardly  attaches  to  this 
pillar  that  so  vividly  recalls  the  adventurous  career 
of  Capt.  John  Smith,  the  navigator  and  seeker-out 
of  new  comi tries;  and  although  his  name  did  not 
stick  to  the  "Islands  off  Cape  Ann,"  yet  it  was  to 
Smith  the  credit  was  due  for  their  swift  recognition, 
and  it  is  to  him  New  England  owes  her  name.  If 
Du  Monts  gave  these  islands  a  name,  his  misfortune 


OLD   YORK 


419 


was  as  great  as  that  of  Smith,  and  better  deserved. 
Except  for  Chainplain,  his  sailing  hither  would  have 
been  regarded  as  uneventful.  Drake  does  not  seem 
inclined  to  give  Smith  the  credit  he  so  clearly  deserves. 
Smith  blew  his  horn  somewhat  loudly,  but  legiti- 
mately, as  might  any  man  who  dealt  in  results,  rather 


CAPT.  SMITH'S    MONUMENT 


than  in  long-distance  perspectives,  as  did  Du  Monts 
and  Gosnold,  having  reference  to  their  sighting  of 
the  trois  et  quatre  islands  that  made  up  this  after- 
ward famous  fishing-ground  of  the  Isles  of  Shoals. 
Du  Monts  and  Gosnold  were  content  to  sail  past  them, 
while  Smith  knew  the  feel  of  their  gritty  rocks.  He 
knew  them  as  intimates;  he  so  spoke  of  them.     For 


420  OLD   YORK 

more  than  a  centur,y  the  miportance  of  their  fisheries 
justified  Smith's  estimate  of  them  and  their  value. 
I  confess  I  like  "Isles  of  Shoals"  better  than  the 
nominis  umbra  of  "Smith's."  But  to  hear  the 
former  is  to  recall  with  lively  interest  the  husband 
of  Pocahontas.  Smith  may  not  have  ranked  as  a 
gentleman  after  the  French  standard,  with  some 
annalists,  but  according  to  the  Anglo-Saxon  estimate, 
he  was  a  man  of  notable  achievement,  with  whom 
personal  aggrandizement  was  not  the  underlying 
motive.  At  least,  he  was  never  in  the  way  of  becom- 
ing a  monopolist  in  fish  and  furs.  His  career  is 
firmly  fixed  in  one's  mind,  if  for  nothing  more  than 
his  illustrious  example  of  hardy  and  courageous  man- 
hood, to  whose  uprightness  of  character  and  tem- 
perate administration  of  matters  intrusted  to  his 
charge  much  praise  is  due.  Smith's  loyalty  to  his 
enterprises  and  to  his  king  was  notable  as  well. 

If  one  goes  over  this  island  of  Star,  as  one  would 
saunter  down  the  midway  of  one  of  our  great  na- 
tional fairs,  on  the  lookout  for  a  two-legged  calf  or 
an  exponent  of  some  anti-lean  society,  or  some  other 
marvel  or  monstrosity  of  nature,  he  would  find  him- 
self peering  into  so-dubbed  Betty  Moody's  Hole, 
whose  legend  reminds  one  of  the  smothering  of  the 
princes  in  London  Tower;  for  it  is  related  that  it  was 
in  this  shallow  cavern  that  Betty  Moody  hid  away 
from  the  Indians,  and  to  prevent  her  children  from 
betraying  her  with  their  outcries,  strangled  them. 
According  to  Hutchinson  the  Indians  were  here  in 
1724,  when  they  carried  away  two  shallops. 


OLD   YORK 


421 


If  one  can  feel  of  nature's  pulse  to  catch  its  beat, 
now  and  then,  these  strange  forms  of  massy  rock, 


THE    RAGGED    LINES    OF    LEIGHTON'S    GUT 

their  wild  gorges  and  impassive  crags,  human  asso- 
ciations would  hardly  be  suggested.  Humanity  is 
puny  beside  these  ragged  lines  of  nature's  writings 


422  OLD   YORK 

or  hieroglyphics,  and  massive  sculpturings  and  the 
labelling  of  their  untamed  and  untamable  char- 
acteristics with  one  tradition  and  another,  for  which 
there  is  no  semblance  of  authenticity,  does  hardly 
more  than  remind  one  of  some  gairish  circumstance, 
the  like  of  which  the  guide  books  use  for  padding. 

One  of  the  most  delightful  surprises  in  store  for 
the  saunterer  among  these  rocks  is  a  tiny  spring 
from  out  which  bubbles  a  crystal  tide.  If  one  takes 
Star  Island  for  one  of  nature's  rugged  odes,  here  is 
its  choicest  line,  and  with  which  the  tradition  of 
Betty  Moody's  Hole  is  as  sounding  brass.  To  drink 
of  the  sparkling  waters  of  this  spring,  is  to  quaff  a 
Circe's  cup.  Ulysses  might  have  drimk  of  its  magic 
cordial  without  the  "Pe-eep"  of  King  Picus  shrilling 
in  his  ears.  It  is  not  unlikely  that  Capt.  John  Smith 
knew  the  taste  of  its  sweet  flavor,  and  was  un- 
doubtedly the  first  white  man  to  partake  of  its  bomity. 
Christopher  Levett,  who  was  here  in  1623,  one  may 
assume,  filled  liis  water  casks  from  it  after  his  strange 
voyage  hither;  and  what  could  have  been  more  pal- 
atable after  the  stale  juices  of  his  English  springs, 
than  the  cool  wholesomeness  of  its  pellucid  pleasures ! 
Mayhap,  Jolm  Winter,  who  wrote  Trelawney  in  1641 
from  the  Isles  of  Shoals,  the  Isles  assez  hautes  of 
Champlain,  1605,  was  not  a  stranger  to  this  original 
and  most  delicious  "Star"  water. 

The  islands  that  make  up  this  group,  known  as  the 
Isles  of  Shoals,  have  been  aptly  described  as  ''mere 
heaps  of  tumbling  granite  in  the  wide  and  lonely 
sea."     It  may  be  said,  as  truthfully,  that  these  tree- 


OLD   YORK  423 

less  ribs  of  rock  are  an  anomaly  in  nature.  There 
are  eight  or  nine  of  them,  if  one  coimts  everything 
above  water,  and  they  are  boldly  poised  amid-seas, 
craggy,  and  dyked  with  lava  streaks;  seamed  with 
gneiss  and  trap;  weirdly  modelled  mto  jagged  cliffs 
whose  rough  faces  are  ever  wet  with  the  flymg  spray; 
and  recessed  with  noisy  caverns  that,  intermittently 
choked  and  drenched  with  the  restless  tides,  gurgle 
and  roar  their  discontent  with  deafening  riot. 

There  is  some  verdure,  but  the  grass  is  stunted. 
Here  and  there  are  patches  of  dwarfed  wild  roses 
that  lend  a  touch  of  suggestive  color  and  a  rarely 
delicious  odor  to  the  picture.  In  the  early  spring  one 
finds  clusters  of  elderberry  blooms  that  in  the  autumn 
have  donned  the  purple  of  Tyre,  and  their  heavy 
droops  of  juicy  fruitage  smack  of  the  wine-press  and 
the  vine-clad  slopes  of  France. 

Towards  the  mainland,  when  the  summer  sun  has 
drunk  up  the  mists  along  shore,  one  may  scan  a  long 
stretch  of  coast  that  reaches  from  Cape  Ann ;  and  at 
nightfall,  one  can  count  the  glowing  flames  of  the 
nine  beacons  that  light  the  sea-frrer  hereabout 
through  the  night.  Topographically,  it  is  interesting 
to  know  something  of  this  famous  island  group. 
Appledore  is  the  largest.  If  one  goes  its  length,  one 
finds  it  a  mile  tramp;  if  its  breadth  is  to  be  spanned, 
it  is  a  third  less.  Smutty  Nose  has  almost  the  same 
area  as  Appledore.  Cedar  and  Malaga  might  be 
declared  a  part  of  Smutty  Nose  at  low  tide,  as 
they  are  accessible  from  the  latter,  dryshod,  with 
the  tide  well  out.     Star  Island  is  about  one  half  as 


424 


OLD    YORK 


large  as  Appledore;  and  from  Star,  a  half  mile  across 
water,  is  White  Island,  a  huge  pile  of  stone  that  rises 
out  of  the  sea  in  wildly  picturesque  disorder,  and 
which  owns  a  massive  grandeur,  about  the  base  of 
which  an  endless  procession  of  inrolling  waves  offer 
countless  and  elusive  surf  studies  for  the  painter, 


WHITE    ISLAND    CLIFFS 


that  defy  the  most  rapid  technique  or  the  most  reck- 
less essays  of  impressionistic  art. 

Wherever  one  may  stand,  whichever  way  one  may 
look,  there  is  ever  the  glamour  of  the  sea.  Here,  one's 
mental  canvas  conveniently  disposed,  with  a  bit  of 
imaginary  charcoal,  or  a  brush  wet  with  some  choice 
pigment,  sketch  after  sketch  is  fastened  upon  the 
memory,  until  one's  portfolio  is  filled  to  its  limit. 
The  Isles  of  Shoals  was  one  of  the  many  painting- 


OLD   YORK  425 

places  of  the  beloved  Wliittier,  and  here  is  a  canvas 
or  two  of  his  filling : 

"And  fair  are  the  summer  isles  in  view 
East  of  the  grisly  Head  of  the  Boar, 
And  Agamenticus  lifts  its  blue 
Disk  of  a  cloud  the  woodlands  o'er; 
And  southerly,  when  the  tide  is  down, 
'Twixt  white  sea-waves  and  sand  hills  brown 
The  beach  birds  dance  and  the  gray  gulls  wheel 
Over  a  floor  of  burnished  steel." 

Ever  these  sketches  grow,  and  the  poet  hangs  them 
on  the  walls  of  his  library  for  his  friends  to  enjoy,  and 
as  they  look  and  listen,  he  dreams  anew,  and  paints  as 
he  dreams  — 

"So,  as  I  lay  upon  Appledore, 
In  the  calm  of  a  closing  summer  day, 
And  the  broken  hues  of  Hampton's  shore 
In  the  purple  mist  of  cloudland  lay, 
The  Ri vermouth  rocks  their  story  told, 
And  waves  aglow  with  the  sunset  gold. 
Rising  and  breaking  in  steady  chime 
Beat  the  rhythm  and  kept  the  time 

"And  the  sunset  paled  and  warmed  once  more. 
With  a  softer,  tenderer  afterglow; 
In  the  east  was  moonrise,  with  boats  offshore, 
And  sails  in  the  distance  drifting  slow ; 
The  beacon  ghmmered  from  Portsmouth  bar, 
The  white  Isle  kindled  its  great  red  star;" 

and  the  glory  of  the  twilight,  and  the  glow  of  the 

"Sunset  fires  along  the  clouds  burned  down," 

that  merged  the  dusky  sea  into  a  ruddy  flood,  faded 
away.     But  Whittier  was  not  alone  in  his  enjoyment 


426  OLD   YORK 

of  these  marvellous  legacies  of  nature;  for  all  dream 
and  paint,  as  did  he,  differing  only  in  degree;  except, 
perhaps,  that  we  turn  our  sketches  to  the  wall,  as  if  we 
would  enjoy  them  alone,  but  really,  because  of  their 
crudities.  For  all  that,  nothing  one  does  with  all 
one's  heart  can  be  without  its  interest  and  value  to 
some  other. 

What  would  not  one  give  to  catch  a  few  bars  of  the 
many  songs  that  are  unsung,  or  a  sentient  glimpse 
of  the  pictures  the  painter  in  the  bram  paints  as  one 
sleeps!  But  dreams  are  slender  things,  more  slender 
than  the  cobwebs  that  make  the  fields  of  a  dewy  morn- 
ing into  webs  of  green  and  silver;  and  yet  it  is  out  of 
just  such  sleazy  stuffs  that  Art  is  born.  But  is  it  a 
true  note  the  poet  strikes,  when  he  declares  that 

"All  passes.     Art  alone 

Enduring,  stays  to  us. 
The  bust  outlives  the  throne ; 
The  coin,  Tiberius." 

Does  the  poet  forget  that  all  things  revert  to  the  bases 
of  their  creation,  nature?  for  the  bronze  will  corrode, 
the  marble  crumble,  and  Cresar's  efifigy  pass,  from  its 
disk  of  gold  as  the  moisture  of  one's  breathing  on  his 
mirror.  But  one  associates  the  pacts  with  thes^  Isles 
of  Shoals,  as  one  does  the  facile  touch  of  Cham  plain, 
or  the  resounding  tread  of  Smith;  and  though  Whit- 
tier,  the  greatest  of  them  all,  has  passed  through  the 
gates  of  the  Great  Silence,  his  pictures  still  glow  and 
pulse  with  the  realism  of  his  technique  as  softly  tender 
as  the  moonrise,  and  as  delicate  as  the  coloring  of  the 
vagrant  blossoms  at  his  feet. 


OLD   YORK 


42' 


Stretched  at  length  under  the  afternoon  sun,  along 
some  verdurous  coverlet  of  grass  that  softly  lines  the 
cradling  hummocks  of  these  islands,  with  the  cool  sea 
winds  blowing  up  from  the  indigo  waters,  he  un- 
doubtedly saw,  as  I  did,  the  phantasmagoria  of  these 
and  the  adjacent  shores  in  the  days  of  old,  troop,  like 
a  flight  of  swallows  before  the  rain,  over  and  across 
his  field  of  vision.  It  is  a  Delectable  Land  one  looks 
out  upon  —  these  buried  centuries — and.  Moses- 
like, one  can  look,  and  looking  can  but  covet  the 
dervish's  ointment  that  their  treasures  might  be 
revealed  to  him. 


S  11  I50i 


LIBRARY  OF  CONGRESS