The New England magazine. / Volume 20, Note on Digital Production Creation of machine-readable edition. Cornell University Library 792 page images in volume Cornell University Library Ithaca, NY 1999 AFJ3026-0020 /moa/newe/newe0020/

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The New England magazine. / Volume 20, Note on Digital Production 0020 000
The New England magazine. / Volume 20, Note on Digital Production A-B

The New England magazine. / Volume 20, Issue 1 [an electronic edition] Creation of machine-readable edition. Cornell University Library 792 page images in volume Cornell University Library Ithaca, NY 1999 AFJ3026-0020 /moa/newe/newe0020/

Restricted to authorized users at Cornell University and the University of Michigan. These materials may not be redistributed.

The New England magazine. / Volume 20, Issue 1 New England magazine and Bay State monthly New England magazine and Bay State monthly Era magazine New England Magazine Co. Boston Mar 1896 0020 001
The New England magazine. / Volume 20, Issue 1, miscellaneous front pages i-2

New England Magazine An Illustrated Monthly New Series, Old Series, Vol. Vol. March, 1896August, 4 20 1896. Boston, Mass.: Warren F. Kellogg, Publisher, 5 Park Square. Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1896, by WARREN F. KELLOGG, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. All rz~k/s reserved. THE PINKHAM PRESS, 287289 Congress St., Boston. INDEX TO THE NEW ENGLAND MAGAZINE. VOLUME XIV. MARCH, 1896 AUGUST, 1896. American Masters, Later Win. H. Downes, F. T. Robinson 131 With portraits. Andover, Historic Annie Sawyer Downs . . . 483 Illustrated from drawings and photographs. Andros, Sir Edmund Mary L. Fay . 46 With portrait. Augusta, the Capital of Maine Ewing W. Hamlen . . . . 195 Illustrated from photographs. Aunt Dorothy. A Story N.J. Welles 311 Aurelio, the Conspirator. A Story Wzlliam l?uthven 726 Barnard, Henry, the Nestor of American Education James L. Hughes 560 Illustrated from photographs. Benedict Cluh, The Julius H. Ward 46i With portraits. Birthplace of the Order of the Cincinnati, The. . William E. Ver Planek . . . 676 Illustrated from drawings by William F. Kingman, and from photographs. Blue Hills of Milton, The Win. H. Downes, F. T. Robinson 707 Illustrated from photographs. B.luemeadow, Memories of . Charlotte Lyon . . . 86, 220, 345 Botany and Botanists in New England . . . . James Ellis Humphrey . . . 27 With portraits. Brook, The. From a photograph Bundle Handkerchief, The Elisabeth Merritt Gosse . . . 6z Capital of Maine, The, Augusta Ewing W. Haml4~n . . . . 195 Illustrated from photographs. Casco Bay Holman Douglas Waldron . . 355 Illustrated from photographs by George Lewis Stone and others. Choice of United States Senators, The . . . . j~/ohn H Flagg 190 Cincinnati, The Birthplace of the Order of the . . William E. Ver Planek . . . 6~6 fllustrat~d from drawings by William F. Kingman, and from photographs. Cleveland, The Story of Henry F. Bourne 739 Illustrated from photographs. Country Week William L Cole 517 Illustrated from photographs. Damon and Pythias Among Our Early Journalists S. Arthur Bent 666 With portrait of Joseph Dennie. Darkroom, In the. A Story Frank Roe Batchelder . . . 245 Dauphins Birthday Ball, The. A Story . . . Janet Armstrong 97 Illustrated from drawings hy Edward H. Dart. Editors Table 123, 254, 382, 508, 636, 765 Ellis, George Edward Arthur B. Ellis 286 XVith portraits. English Poorhouse, A Month in an Max Bennett Thrasher . . . 452 Illustrated from photographs. Evacuation of Boston and the Declaration of Jude- Leaves from the Journal of Ezra pendence, The News of the Stiles, Edited by Amelia L. Hill 317 Family Bookcase, A Kate Gannett Wells . . . . x8i Flower Painter, Reminiscences of a . . . . . Ellen Robb ins 440, 532 With portrait. Glimpses of Life in New England Two Centuries Ago William B. Weeden . . . . z77 Hampton in New Hampshire, Old Newton Marshall Hall . . . 6i i Illustrated from photographs. Historic Andover .. Annie Sawyer Downs. . . . 483 Illustrated from photographs. Hofer, Andreas, the Hero of the Tirol . . . . William D. 11k Crackar . . . 548 Illustrated chiefly from paintings by Defregger. how Boston Gets Its Water Fletcher Osgood 389 illustrated from photographs. Institutional Church, The George Willis Cooke . . . . 645 Illustrated from drawings and photographs. In the Darkroom. A Story rank Roe Batehelder . . . 245 International Arbitration, The United States, Great Britain and . . . Benjamin F. Trueblood, LL.D. z Invisible Light Philz~5 Henry Wynne . . . . 214 Jefferson and Hamilton in our Education . . E. P. Powell . . . . . 699 Later American Masters Win. H. Downes, F. 7. Robinson 131 With portraits. Life in New England Two Centuries Ago, Glimpses of William B. Weeden . . . 277 Loyal Traitor, A. A Story Clara Wood Shz~5man . . . 411 Mandys Baby. A Story Annie E. P. Searing . . . . Marks Monument. A Story Edward Clarence Plummer 6oi Memorial Day at the Corners. A Story . . Herbert (opeland 472 Memories of Bluemeadow Charlotte Lyon . . . 86, 220, 345 Mender of Hearts, A. A Story Sabra Myrick 152 Methodist Conference and Education, The New England Win. F. Warren, D.D., LL.D 351 Milton, The Blue Hills of Win. H. Downes, F. L Robinson 707 Illustrated from photographs. Miserly Spendthrift, A. A Story Mary Boyle OReilly . . . . 375 Month in an English Poorhouse, A Max Bennett Thrasher . . . 452 Illustrated from photographs. Mount Auburn Frank Foxcroft 419 Illustrated from photographs by Phineas Hubbard. Mystery of Dave Gurney, The. A Story . . . Lewis G. Wilson Nestor of American Education, The, Henry Barnard James L. Hughes 56o New England Methodist Conference and Education, William F. Warren, D. B., The LL. B 351 New England Town Under Foreign Martial Law, A William Henry Kilby . . . 685 Illustrated from photographs. New England Two Centuries Ago, Glimpses of Life in William B. Weeden . . . . 277 New London, Connecticut Henry Robinson Palmer . . . 291 Illustrated from photographs. News of the Evacuation of Boston and the Declara- Leaves from the ,Journal of Ezra tion of Independence, The Stiles. Edited by Amelia L. Lb/i 317 Of the Blood Royal. A Story Gertrude Morton Cannon . . Old Colony Town, An Taunton Samuel V. Cole Illustrated from photographs. Old Hampton in New Hampshire Newton Marshall Hall . . . 6ii Illustrated from photographs. Olympian Games, The William Sherman Bansemer . 261 Illustrated. Omnibus. See Poetry xz8, 641 Order of the Cincinnati, The Birthplace of the . . William F. Ver Planck . . . 676 Illustrated from drawings by William F. Kingman, and from photographs. Penobscot Bay Edwin A. Start 579 Illustrated from photographs by A. H. Folsom and others. Population Tendencies in Rhode Island . . . . Henry Robinson Palmer 59 Railway Consolidation in New England . . . . George F. Seymour . Reminiscences of a Flower Painter Ellen RoU$ins . . . . 440, With portrait. Round About the Waverley Oaks Joshua Kcndall Illustrated from photographs. Running the Gauntlet F. C. Plummer Sandemanians, The orge Wa/son Ifallock \Vith illustrations. Spanish City in the New World, A Mary F. Haines . Story of Cleveland, The Henry F. Bourne . Illustrated from photographs. Tale of To-day. A Story Blanche L. Clay . Taunton an Old Colony Town Samuel V. Cole Illustrated from fhotographs. Tubman, Harriet Lillie B. Chaee Wyman With illustrations. Uncle Seth. A Sketch fftlen Marshall Nor/h United States Senators, The Choice of . . . . John H. Flagg United States, Great Britain, and International Arbitration, The Benjamin F. Trueblood, LL.D. Waverley Oaks, Round About the Joshua Kendall Illustrated from photographs. Western Reserve, The Rober/ Shackle/on Illustrated from photographs and drawings. Western Reserve University, The Emerson 0. S/evens Illustrated from photographs and drawings. What a Great City Might Be John Coleman Adams Illustrated from photographs. What the Small Town May Do For Itself . . . Charles Knowles Bol/on POETRY. Ambitions Feast liaude Louise Fuller Child and the Man, The Frank Walco// Hu// Death Laura Sjz5encer For/or Defence, The Minnie Leona (Jjji5/on Easter Praise-Fire, The (Yin/on Scollard Ezry Elinor Gray . Fairhaven . . . Ar/hur Cleveland Hall 251 532 227 282 239 59 739 66o 110 476 190 2I 227 323 163 3 94 738 665 96 572 213 641 109 False Note, A First Violin, The Guests, The Interpreting . . Jack in the Pulpit Lost Youth . . Loves Calendar . Maudes Valentine Memorial Day Minute, A New Woman, The Old Harp, An . Old House, The Old-Time Love Song Palinode, A Phantom Drum, The Reality Returning Joys . Soldiers Sweetheart, The Souls Vision, The Spinet, The Spring and Love Spring Reverie, A They That Are Chrisfs To My Friends . Too Late Transformation . Unsung Valentine Samuel I+Joy/ Minna Irving . Charles hanson Towue Philiji5 Becker Goetz Hert~er/ Randall Zi/ellet Cocke . A13 Ide Farwell Brown Ellis Parker Butler Frances [fas/ings Ellis Parker Butler Emma Play/er Sea~ury John Vance Cheney liladison Cawein (Yin/on Scollard John While Chadwick Richard Bur/on MabelA. Carj5en/er fftr3er/ Randall Ailinna Irving . Laura Spencer Por/or iVflnna Irving Lydia Avery Coonley George Glenn King Alice DAlcho Harry Romaine . Kale Whiling Patch Lydia Avery C~oonley Martha Gil3er/ Dickinson Ai~bie Farwell Brown Mary CYarke Hunting/on Frank Roe Ba/chelder Irene Putnam . . Laura Brown . When Grandfather Led in the Training White Birch Country, In the With Roses Womans Wish, A . . . 6oo 764 158 io8 547 578 44 128 482 642 641 706 725 418 439 uS 635 238 410 546 531 439 381 316 641 244 13 322 128 642 45 6io 6io ASA GRAY.

The New England magazine. / Volume 20, Issue 1 3-130

THE NEW ENGLAND MAGAZINE, NEW SERIES. MARCH, 1896. WHAT A GREAT CITY MIGHT BEA THE WHITE CITY. VOL. XIV. No, i. LESSON FROM By 7o/uz Golernais Adams. (ZUas/rabed from jhobos. by William H. Rau.) XJ\/ RILE many observers VV during the great Chicago Exposition, made pub- lie their impressions of the artistic and indus- trial phases of the White City, and much was written of its dramatic side, the stream of inci- dent flowing through the six months of its existence, the human procession marching and countermarching in its avenues, there is one whole aspect of the Exposition which re- ceived altogether too little attention. Yet it is a side which contained as much food for thought certainly as any other for the American citizen. ~othing in any of the exhibits within the walls of those great buildings, illustratino~ the achieve- inents of human skill and power, was half so interesting, so sug- gestive, so full of hopeful intima- tions, as the Fair in its aspect as a city by itself. In the midst of a very real and very earthly city, full of the faults which Chicago so pre- ~nunently displays, we saw a great many features of what an ideal city might be, a great many visions which perhaps will one day become solid facts, and so remove the blot and failure of modern civiliza- tion, the great city of the end of the century. ~he White City has become almo~t a dream; but it is well to go back to it, after this interval, and study anew some of its lessons. In the first place, when one entered the gates of the White City, he felt that he was in the presence of a system of arrangements which had been care- fully and studiously planned. The city was orderly and convenient, The plotting of the grounds, the man- ner of their development, the placing of the buildings, the communicating avenues and canals and bridges, all / 4 exhibited a prevision, a plan, an arrangement of things with reference to each other. The problem of the architect, the landscape gardener and the engineer had been thoroughly thought out before the gates were opened. The result was pre~minently satisfying. The features of the Fair could be studied as a whole, or the details could be taken up without loss of time or distraction of attention. The mind was helped and not hin- dered by the planning of the various parts. They seemed to be the details of an organism, not the mere units of an aggregation. ~he buildings were not a heap and huddle of walls and roofs; they were a noble sketch in architecture. The streets were not a tangle of thoroughfares representing individual preference or caprice; they were a system of avenues devised for the public convenience, Of course every dweller in a great city will recognize the fact that these particulars represent just what most of our larger cities are not. If we except some of the newer cities of the West, we have extremely few in which there are any evidences of deliberate and intelligent plan, the perception of the end to be attained, and the effort to gain that end. Life in our cities would TI/HAT A GREAT CITY MIGHT BE. be vastly easier if only they had been planned with some reasonable fore- sight as to results and some common- sense prevision in behalf of the people who were coming to live in them. The great blemish upon our cities is the fact that their natural advantages have been squandered by uses which had no forethought of future needs. The blunders and stupidity of those who ~ave developed them have laid heavy expense upon those who shall come after and try to remodel the terri- tory they have spoiled. That work has hardly begun. When it is under- taken there will be anathemas pro- iound and unsparing upon the short- sightedness which permitted narrow streets and omitted frequent parks and open squares; which reared monu- mental buildings, and failed to dig tunnels for local transportation; which carried sewage away in drain pipes, only to bring it back by the water tap. Of course the answer and defence made to this coiuplaint is a general denial of the possibility of doing other- wise, and a claim that the conditions in the two cases were all so different that it is unfair to expect like results. The laim ma~ be partly conceded. The American city is, in general, a surprise to it~ own inhabitants. It ~ro vs WHAT A GREAT CITY MIGHT BE. beyond all prophecy; it develops in unexpected directions; it increases in territory and population at a pace which is scarcely less than appalling. All these conditions make foresight difficult and possibly debar hindsight from criticism. But the trouble has been that the builders of our cities have been blind because they would not see. They have erred because they chose. They have neglected oppor- tunities which offered. When Lon- don suffered from its great fire in i666, Sir Christopher Wren was ready with admirable plans for rebuilding it with broad streets conveniently arranged, with such a quay as the Victoria Embankment, and with beautiful buildings advantageously disposed. But his plans were not adopted, and an oppor- tunity was lost which will perhaps never recur, of making London a beauti- ful, well-arranged city. Boston had a like oppor tunity under a like calam- ity, and likewise refused it. She threw a tub to the whale of travel and traffic in the shape of a few par- ings of territory to widen streets; but the whale still chases her perplexed and weary citizens through crooked and narrow thor- oughfares. For many years it has been possible to forecast the growth of our cities as certainly as it was possible to predict that the daily population of the White City would be anywhere from 100,000 to 8oo,ooo people. Our mistakes are therefore gratuitous and wilful. But there were other hints of the order which might exist in our great cities, conveyed in the general cleanli- ness and neatness of the Exposition grounds. The management had grave difficulties in its way. It had to contend with a great untaught multi- tude which had never learned in real cities how to be neat in this mimic one. They were as careless and untidy here as they were in their own cities and towns. They littered the ground; they covered the floors; they filled the waters with the rubbish of lunch baskets and the debris of un- consumed luncheons; they tore up their letters and tossed the tatters into the air; they threw away in one building the cards and circulars they had collected in others. But every night when they were gone the patient attendants did their best 6 WHAT A GREAT CITY MIGHT BE. to clean up after them and to present the grounds fresh and bright for the new crowd next day. When shall we carry the same methods into our municipal affairs? Why may we not at once take a hint in our every-day towns from this city of a few weeks? There is no reason (save such as are discreditable alike to our minds and our morals) why New York and Phila- delphia, Boston and Chica- go, should not be swept and scrubbed every night in preparation for the uses of every new day. Some- time they will be. Per- haps that day xvill come all the sooner for the lesson of the White City. It may be cited as an evidence of what the American populace might be trained to do in the care of its own city premises, that no great multitude of people ever took better care of itself nor showed more love of order in behavior than the throng which came and went every day through the gates of Jackson Park. That fact has been too often cited with praise to demand any emphasis here. It is only called up to show that the American people possesses that self control which can be made the basis of municipal neatness and order. The American citizen understands that he can have a good time with- out boisterousness or dis- order. He knows that the good order of a crowd is only the good order of every individual in it. Once teach him that neat- ness in the streets can only be secured by the care of every man, woman and child who walks those streets, and we shall be as distinguished for our clean cities as we are for our well-behaved and good- natured crowds. A word ought to be said just here in behalf of those excellent officials whose personal bearing and courteous, intelligent manner of performing their duties were almost ideal. Many wit- nesses have testified to their value as an object-lesson in the pos- sibilities of a police force; though perhaps no one has spoken more forcibly than Mr. John Brisben Walker, who called them not bulky, burly punishers of the laws infractions, but public servants placed there to aid in maintaining the law by advice and as- sistance, ready at all times with kindly word of infor- mation, alert to the necessi- ties of visitors and deter- mined to make the day of each in their precincts as pleasant as possible. If one were to sketch a picture of the policeman of the future he could not do better than get a Colmubian Guard to pose as a model,a good specimen of physical manhood, not chosen for his pull or his political utility, or for his mere brute bulk, but selected on account of his fitness, drilled into WHAT A GREAT CITY MIGHT BE. 7 perfect familiarity with his duties, mindful of his own responsibilities to law, and discharging them with intel- ligence as well as conscientiousness. It may be remarked incidentally that it would have been entirely feasible to secure such a sketch, because the White City policeman, unlike the policemen of so many cities, was a tangible reality at the points when he was needed. He was no absentee official, either in mind or body, but was always visible when on duty, and that, too, in every part of the territory he was set to nard. But the White City presented yet another hint of a possibility of every great city, in the remarkable safety xvhich it afforded its temporary citi- zens. Every provision was made to take care of the people and to guard their lives and limbs. The sense of absolute safety within those avenues was delicious. The visitor could give his whole mind to the business in hand without one thought of perilof falling into any hole, of being hit by any missile. Coming to these grounds from the crowded thoroughfares of Chicago, where the sharp gong of the street cars and the rumble of vehicles was an interminable reniinder of the S T +JAT II GRE T CIT} MIGHT BE. constant threat to personal safety in the crowded streets, it was an nnspeak- ahie an indescrihahie relief to move ~reelv in the midst of the great throng. a ml not feel in imminent danger. The visitor did not have to third of his personal safety at all, The slow atering-carts and the occasional am- ulance on its errand of relief were all that interfered vith pedestrians. The r ilwav overhead and the lagoon at ~ne side fnrnished all the rapid transit withont interference of any sort with the sightseers. Snppose that the same ~ort of care were taken of onr lives and person~ in a modern great city. It vonld he worth ones while if he conld he as sfe in Brooklyn or New York as he was in the streets of the Exposi- tion. Bnt he never will he as long as selfish and mercenary orporations are allowed to captnre onr thorongh- fare~ and isreoard the rights of the people in their nse of them, A word might not he ont of place ost here as to the provisions made for the comfort as well as the safety of these people. It was possihle to do in the Fair what yon cannot do in any city that I know of, Yon did not need to walk five minntes if von were thirsty withont finding a place where yon conld slake vonr thirst. And there were no open hars at the Fair, either. Water was there for the thirst free as air, if yon wished it free, at a penns cost if yon felt that a drink conld not he real nnless yon paid for it, I ha Te s )metimes thonght that the canse of temperance conld he pro- moted hy a little more attention to the physical fact that men will get tl irsty, and that a cool fonntain once in every half mile of sidewalk wonld dis- conra~e the trade of the saloons, In a great city von cannot get a cnp of cold x ater even if yon want it withont hegging for it like a tramp, and mnch harm comes therefrom, In the great White City yon conld not get a glass of strong drink nnless yon went into a restanrant and sat down at a tahle; and there was no actoal snifer- ing, apparently, on acconnt of the ahsence of the open hars. Possihly there may have heen some connection hetween these facilities for qnenching tl e thirst in a harmless way, and the WHAT A GREAT CITY MIGHT BE. marked absence of drunkenness in the White City. If it should ever become impossible to obtain any food in our restaurants less obnoxions to the digestioii than welsh rarebits and mince-pies, the people could scarcely be blamed for the dyspepsia which would surely ensue. Much the same things might be said of the facilities for cleanliness and comfort which in the White City were so amply provided. It was a decided novelty, anywhere in America, to be in a miniature great city, where for a nickel one could get at frequent inter- vals clean hands nd face and a smooth head of hair. But the nov- elty was of a sort which commanded universal approval. Everybody liked the arrangements at the Fair; and everybody would doubtless like to see similar arrangements in his own city. Who will be first to furnish them? A good profit awaits his investment, No doubt the people who did not go to Chicago are saying even now: Let us hear no more of the beauty of the buildings at the Fair,being like those Athenians who wearied of hearing Aristides praises continually dinned in their ears; and those who went there are never quite ready to forgive any lack of enthusiasm on that theme. Let me rather do my duty by the most wonderful revelation of the century to Americans, than ease the unwilling minds of those who still sit in the darkness of ignorance. In- quiry was made of several of the most critical observers of the Worlds Fair what in their judgment would be its most marked and impressive effect upon American thought and enter- prise. The unanimous opinion was that it would give a great impulse to architecture, to the construction of civic buildings, to the study of artistic e~ ects in public and private construc- tions. i ~ot that anybody expects to see those great buildings reproduced anywhere else. That would be to re 10 WHAT A GREAT CITY MIGHT BE. was treated to the extraordinary ex- perience of feeling that all this beauty, order, protection and dis- play were for his sake, to minister to his enjoyment and to his ease. He knew that the White City was built and fur- nished on his ac- count, and that peat the old stupidities of our architectural bungling and botches, which have given us Greek temples for dwelling houses and an en- largement of the settlers log cabin for a church. But there will be a new spirit growing out of the dis- covery of what is possible in the way of beautiful public buildings. We have had very little so far in our national life; and we have had, certainly until this latest time, extremely little good private architecture. After the awful monotony of ugliness in the domestic and public architecture of cities like Brooklyn and New York and Philadelphia, the White City was not only a revelation but a benediction. But it forecast a duty, too. It is time we awoke from our nightmare of ugliness and builded better. We are on the eve of a great revival in architecture. When it comes we shall not find men building barns for city halls and court houses ~~nd churches, nor making houses by the mile, so like each other that a man could not tell his own house in the block by broad daylight except for its number or some private chalk-marks. The American visitor to the Fair was permitted another sensation as unusual as it was agreeable, and as strange as it was unexpected. He everything had been done with a view to making him feel at home in the en- joyment of his inheritance. There was not another place in America where the American citizen could feel so much of the pride of popular sovereignty as he could after he had paid his half dol- lar and become a naturalized resident of this municipality. Once within those grounds he was monarch of all he surveyed. He could go anywhere. He could see everything. He was wel- come to all that he found inside those gates. He could feel for once in his life that he was not liable to be snubbed by the police, nor bullied by car-con- ductors, nor brow-beaten by salesmen. His temporary citizenship entitled him to the same large privileges which are his by right in any permanent city, WHAT A GREAT CITY MIGHT BE. 11 with this difference, that for once his title was recognized and his rights respected. It was a great experience for the patient, snbmissive, long-suffering American. It gave him a hint of his own eserts. It taught him what he had a right to expect by virtue of his citizenship. It revealed to him what a mock-freedom is really his, when every petty upstart, clad with a liftle brief au- thority, feels at liberty to omineer over him. We imagine that we, the people, are the state, and we pride ourselves upon our sover- eignty. But was ever a monarch so shame-faced, so put upon, so humiliated? Let this popular sovereign try to walk the streets of his own city with any such feel- ing as filled his heart in the White City, and see how mortifying a lot is his. If he meets a policeman he cannot help feeling afraid under some very innocent circumstances, that he may he arrested merely for being out of doors. If he attempts to cross a street, the swift and death- ealing trolley- or cable-car will soon teach him that the public thoroughfare does not belong to him but to some corporation. If he enters these or any other public vehicle, he realizes that they are run, not to accommodate him, but to make money for somebody else. The sidewalks are not his, but the grocers, the furniture dealers, the house builders and the street con- tractors. Even in his own house, the dust from ill-kept streets, the crash and racket over bad pavements, teach him that the city is cared for, not by a 12 WHAT A GREAT CITY MIGHT BE. go ernment of the people, by the people, and for the people, but by a gov- ernment of the politicians, by the politicians, for the politi- cians. LInt, per- haps, as he un- derstancls all these things, he will long for a lay to come when he can walk abroad with uplifted head, in the comfortable assnrance that the city belongs to him and not to the corporations and the politicians. Such an era of real liberty in which the city is devoted to the good of the citizen, is perfectly possible, bnt only nnder the same conditions as those which made the White City so con- spicuons. he splendid administra- tion of that six-months city was :ecured by enlisting in its service the best brains and the best disposi- tions available. The talent and the character of at least one city government in America were level with the task which was set for them. The sonrce and secret of the or- der, the safety, the beauty, the devotion to the good of the people, xvhich were fonnd in that one small municipality, lay in the fact that the best were called upon to prodnce the best. Those beautiful grounds were planned 1w the best minds that could be bron& ht to the undertaking. The beautiful buildings were deco- rated by the best artists who conld be secured. The president of the Direc- tory was one of the foremost bnsiness men of Chicago. The execntive talent in that wonderfnl city (which abounds TRANSFORMATION. 1~3 in that particular commodity) was laid tinder contribution to administer the enterprise. It was a clear case of cause adequate to effect. When our great cities can and will observe the same law; when they realize that it takes the best to make the best; when they feel that personal comfort, safety, and enjoyment are worth having and worth working for; then indeed we may expect to see the ideals suggested in the White City realized in Boston, New York, Brooklyn and Chicago, in every great city in the land. The great White City has disap- peared. Its walls have fallen, its attractions have vanished, its glories have faded like the summer which marked its life. But in its place, heirs of its uses, its beauties, its order, we shall yet see springing into being throughout the land cities which shall embody in permanent form the splen- dors, the noble suggestions, the dignified municipal ideals of this dream city. In the day in which the better, the best, American city shall become a common spectacle, we shall perceive how much sooner it came by reason of the vision of the White City which we all beheld upon the shores of the great lake. TRANSFORMATION. By Lydia Avery Gooaley. IN every virtue lies concealed A latent vice which might have ruled; In every vice a virtue hides, Which needed only to be schooled. I chatter over stony ways, In little sharps and trebles, I bnbble into eddying bays, I babble on the pebbles. I chatter, chatter, as I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on forever. 4 MANDYS BABY. By Annie E. P. Searing. HE breezes that blew over Mandys gar- den stirred among vegetables and flow- ers that lifted their heads in close prox- imity,no plant more difficult to classify than Mandy herself. She might have been de- scribed as a hybrid, not placed in the great human herbarium, so contra- dictory were her traits. Tall and straight and thin, in her greenish-gray print gown, topped off with a bright pink sun-bonnet, she looked not unlike one of the stalks of her own holly- hocks when she stood among them. She was spare and angular within as xvell as without. Life had made her so. If her character was hard and unyielding, however, it was also soft in spots. These inconsistencies were for the most part unsuspected by her neighbors, but their treacherous pres- ence was known and deplored by Mandy herself. Careful and discrimi- nating in her sparing charities, she was often imposed upon by the most egregious beggars, because the appeal in some occult way reached down and touched the undercurrent of love and romance beneath her prosaic exterior. Bending over the weeds, she had a habit of fixing her thoughts on the backward vista of her fifty years. One by one, as she pulled and piled, she would cast up the reckoning against fate, of her disappointments and bur- dens and defeated aims. Such an ar- raignment of vanished years is the surest way to take all sweetness out of those that remain, and Mandy with her own hand was pouring bitterness into the cup of her approaching age. Often when birds were piping and call- ing through the dewy mornings, and all the little garden world was a misty fairyland of beauty and fragrance, the mistress, lonely and silent, went bend- ing over the mould, digging up with the plantain and chickweed and hen- bane the accumulated pain of her past. As far back as she could remember, life had granted her ironical substitu- tions for her longings and prayers. All along the way she could see only stones for the bread her hunger had craved, and now an uncompanioned loneliness in which to live it over again. She saw herself a little child in a gingham pinafore, trudging to school, with wild dreams in her head of some day teaching in the district. Then she followed that same girl with ambitions laid aside, toiling in a fac- tory to help support an invalid mother, and brothers and sisters left fatherless. She recalled with peculiar poignancy the renouncing of her matrimonial visions at the old call of duty, and she said to herself that Eben Plympton had been a steady beau, not to be lightly discarded. The sadness of his face and the shine of his dark hair where it was slicked forward above his ears were as plain to her now when she shut her eyes as if the thirty years be- tween her and the parting over the gate were but a day. The gate still swung there in the picket fence un- changed, barring a few added slats and a new hinge and latchshe could see it if shechosetoriseupandturnaround; and here was she almost an old woman, while Eben, she had heard, lay be- neath the sod of a western prairie. She saw her hopes and dreams, trans- ferred to those younger ones, fade and disappear as the children died, and at last there was only the mother left. A few years more slipped away, and then Mandy and the old house were alone. The steady rise in her factory posi- tions and the increasing salary had 5 16 MAATDYS BABY. been no compensation for all the sacri- fice in vain. Day after day through these lonely latter years she chewed her cud of resentment against fate she had long since renonnced any be- lief in Providence. She felt that she bad been tricked and cheated, had been led by tortuous paths to a height of financial prosperity she had never craved, where with her dearly bonght leisure she had ample time to look down over the lovely land of peace and love and fireside comradeship where she would fain have dwelt. To have kept the old home, to have added to the garden, and put the old-fashioned house in repair, to have saved enough money to live in frugal prosperity, was nothing to her compared with the loss and loneliness and lovelessness of her life. She felt that she had somehow deserved better. The neighbors used sometimes to suggest, by vague hints, possible expe- dients; but iVlandys unresponsive coldness repelled any advance. Take a child to bring up, indeed ! she would sniff. Have it spend what Ive got together, and like as not abuse or dis- grace me in my old age ! Nobody ever got nearer than hint or innuendo on this subject except the old doctor who had won in Mandys long family experience with illness and suffering a privileged place. Some- times he drew up beside the fence and diverted her attention for a while from her introspective weedings. So it was one morning in early snmmer, when the pink sun-bonnet was closing her ears and eyes to all the influences of the blossoming garden. She rose when she heard the well-known crack of his whip to call her. Come now, shove back that bonnet of yours and let in a little sun and air ! Mandy rose up stiffly and walked over to the fence. The doctors eyes travelled past her down a spick and span white pebbled path bordered with freshly trimmed box, to where a fam- ily of kittens were rioting and bal- ancing upon an old arbor. Mrs. McManus has a new baby he volunteered, and that makes ten. Shed be glad to find a home for the little one of six that I xvas speaking to you about last week a wonderfully clever and taking little kid, Mandy. iViandy took off her bonnet as she leaned one arm along the pickets, revealing a mass of waving gray hair which was gathered in a tight coil at the crown of her shapely head. She had still a fine complexion, which gave her a more youthful look than be- longed to her years. With her long straight nose and level brows she had a severe expression until she disclosed her eyes, and then you realized the presence of feeling and fire beneath the icy surface. That mares off hind foot, she said with studied irrelevance, is swelled some around the fetlock. Youd bet- ter have it soaked in warm water to-night. The doctor laughed, snapping his long whip over the fence at the kittens. Pshaw, whats the use? he remon- strated. Youd get lots of comfort out of it, if youd only try it. Why, two nice young ones tumbling round this old gardend beat all the kittens and other live stock youve got, put together. There aint any more to be said on that subject, said Mandy turning away from the fence, as Ive told you often enough before. If I cant have children of my own, I dont propose to run any risks bringing up other peoples. But the doctor called her back. Ive got one waiting for you all the same. Shes up at the poorhouse, and a regular wonder of a baby; youll like her, Im sure ! Mandy put on her bonnet and walked away, turning it toward him like a funnel over her shoulder as she announced, I guess that baby will do some tall xvaiting ! Shes waited quite some already, the doctor called after her as he drove off; shes eighty-six years old ! All that day, as she hoed among the beans and the cabbages, Mandy knew MANDYS BABY. 17 that the doctor had hit upon one of her treacherous soft spots. Old age and feebleness were the inherited memories of her niother. The morrows setting sun looked into the living room on the deed accomplished. Near the stove sat a tiny shrivelled old woman, whose white hair above her wrinkles and the cotton kerchief folded across her shoulders were laid in angles so alike that her face had the effect of being set in a white frame with opposite points above and below. She wore a ruffled cap tied snugly under her chin, and her whole small person expressed scrupulous if shabby neatness. Everything about her seemed old but her eyes, and they were of that deep blue which we only expect to see in childrens eyes. They gave her a singularly childlike expression, and when she smiled her very tooth- lessness completed the illusion. She looked like an octogenarian baby. What shall I call you? said Mandy, as she laid aside the old shawl and the swaddling wraps which had been wound about the old ladys head. Everybody calls me Grammer Great, she said with a sweet little deprecatory glance toward Mandy, who was now bustling about her preparations for tea; and then she added, as if to propitiate this half ter- rible good genius of her changing for- tunes, Couldnt i[ help any? Mandy was laying the cloth over the little mahogany table between the windows, and she loomed up tall where she stood in the low-ceiled room. She looked sharply at the wee figure half crouching in the big rocker where her mother had sat fading away for so many years. Something jn the frightened look of the wrinkled face stirred her deeply, and swiftly crossing the space between them she bent over and kissed the old womans cheek. It was nearly ten years since she had kissed anybody. Its a lot of help just to have you there in that chair where I can look at y on, she said. Grammer Great gave a little croon that was like an inward laugh, and set- tled back with her feet on the cricket. This was solid comfort indeed. To think of having someone to do for you who actually liked it! She asked no questions about Mandys intentions; she had asked none about the descent upon the poorhouse and her capture. The poor soul had been accustomed for so many uncomplaining years to be handed on from one relative to another like a bundle of old clothes, that with the power to direct it she had lost all interest in the disposition of her per- son. She watched the setting of the table with wondering absorption. She saw two bluecupsandsaucersof anold, old fashion, two blue plates whose patternthe bridge, the Chinese junk and all resurrected the housekeeping of her past, and napkins, actually nap- kins, for her who had been eating these many months out of tin basins belonging to the town! Grammer Great laughed delightedly with a high cackle like a bantams. I guess you wont keep me for a very long visit, she said, you make sich company of me ! Taint a visit, Mandy answered with decision, from the cupboard where she was reaching up for the teapot. Youve come to stay. When she set the pot on the stove and poured into it the boiling water, she saw that the old ladys eyes were tight shut, but down a winding furrow of her face was trickling a telltale tear. From that time forward Grammer Great made no ado about her benefits, but enjoyed every breath she drew with a fervor which told its own elo- quent story of long privation and abuse. She fairly basked in her late found prosperity, and warmed both hands at the fire of life with renewing vigor. She attached herself to Mandys person in a way which was at times inconvenient; and whether Mandy sewed or swept or weeded her garden there was Grammer Great in close proximity, often holding fast to Mandys skirt to steady her tottering footsteps. She loved to think she was MANDYS BABY. :tiseful, so with infinite patience and ingenuity Mandy got into the way of setting her little tasks to imitate her own, as she would have done for a child. She bought a childs broom, and while she was sweeping, Grammer Great was allowed to think the futile brushing she did with that toy from her chair was of great value in the result. When Mandy made bread or pie or cake in the out kitchenwhere the real work always went onthere must Grammer Great be seated by the table and mould a loaf, or trim the edges of the pies, or make a feint at beating eggs. When Mandy fed the chickens, Grammer Great stirred the meal and called Kip, kip, in her feeble cracked voice. When Mandy weeded, she put an easy chair at the end of the row, and there sat Grammer Great with a piece of magic knitting which Mandy was accustomed to rip and do over again each night when her baby had been tucked into bed at an early hour. There, the dear old soul would quaver, as she settled back to luxu- rious contentment among the high banked pillows, now aint this nice! Ive never hed enough pillows under my head before. My, aint we hed a busy day, Mandy,and Ive got a good piece done on my stocking too ! Then Mandy would rip down to where the dropped stitches began and knit up again a days allowance. So they went on together, mutually serving each others needs. If Mandy gave material attention ot the most exacting nature, she also received a hundredfold in spiritual benefit. Gram- mer Great was like the finest of old wine, out of which all noxious quali- ties had long since been fermented, leaving it rich and sweet, of a divine and life-giving flavor. There was in her no capability of blame or com- plaint. Her troubles seemed to her quite in the way of the world and no more than her share of the universal burden. To be sure, comparatively few old women came upon the town, ut perhaps the others had afflictions as severe. Everybody, she was sure7 meant kindly by her, and many times, to Mandys intense inward indigna- tion, she made excuses for the children and grandchildren who had been so heartless. It must be thirty year, she said one day as she was helping peel apples to dry, since we lost the farm, trying to help Zekiel, my son. Then he died, and me bein a widder, I divided up my things and took to visitin round mongst my daughters. Visitin ? said Mandy sharply as she cut up an apple with swift slicings. I should think one of them would have kept you on to live ! Oh, theyd a been glad to, Gram- mer Great hastened to explain, but they all wanted me then to help, an I took em by turns. You see, she went on with a sort of complacency, Ive always ben handy to work, and they bein all dretful poor was anxious to git me. The real hard thing about it was losin Zekiels little Ebenezer. Zekield always lived home, an after he died his wife moved out west to where her folks lived and took Zekiels little Ebenezer along with her. Was he a very little boy then? asked Mandy gently, picturing to her- self a chubby figure in bare legs and petticoats. No, said Grammer Great delib- erately, as she rested her wrists on the edge of the pan in her lap, he want so very young neither, but Id always called him little Ebenezer and I ex- pect I always shall. He must have been dead though this good while, er hed sure hey hunted me up. He always sot great store by icne, some- how. She had an expression of patient resignation which was very pathetic to see. Why didnt he write to you then, and send you money? said Mandy, with the air of a judge sitting on the matter of Ebenezers delinquency and fully prepared to charge the jury against the accused. I dont know, resumed Grammer Great sadly; and then she brightened is MANDYS BABY. 19 up with undiminished faith in her boy. But somethin must er happened twant in Zekiels little Ebenezer to forgit his grandmother. You see it was so very far out westmost to Buffalo I blieve it was they went; her folks thought there might be a open- ing there for him in the bootcherin business. Hed stayed on the farm so many years hed kinder lost his chance. He felt he want very young any more; but he never seemed morn half growed up to medid Zekiels little Ebenezer! By a little questioning Mandy dis- covered that this grandson must have been about twenty-five when he passed out of Grammer Greats life, and then she calculated that not long before that very time she had lost her lover. Could it be possible thatin the shadowy picture of that starlit parting over the gate the boy and girl were but twenty and twenty-two! After all, the slow revolving years are too swift for our mental adjustments, and the looking- glass is a d~aily recurring surprise. No, said Grammer Great, yielding to the unexpressed need of apology which she felt in the air, they couldnt none of em be expected to rightly want me any longer when they got a notion I couldnt earn my keep no more, they was all so poor, you see. But I guess theyd be surprised to see how Pm a-pickin up,now wouldnt they, Mandy? She cackled with pleasure and pride in her deeds of prowess. I kinder keep up along of you, dont I, child ? More and more the permeating un- selfishness which made the essential piety of this simple soul and had proved her refuge and defence against the dark spectres of bitterness and de- spair shone upon Mandys gloomy retrospections like a light out of heaven. The submission of spirit to lifes hardest allotments, the ready love and childlike pleasure with which she received the smallest manifestations of kindness, often, however, without ver- bal expression, were a daily sermon delivered with quiet force by a quite unconscious preacher. Mandy soft- ened and expanded under the influ- ence, giving herself up to a very pas- sion of serving. It came to be a great joy to her to accompany Grammer Greats faltering footsteps down toward the gateway of death, with all the little loving cares which so smooth the roughness of that way. How she longed that the task might be lengthened a bit and this late found comradeship have time to ripen before the parting! Grammer Greats niind remained wonderfully clear for several years, and time seemed to have made a kindly pause. The only way in which the mists now and then enveloped her were in thoughts and memories of Zekiels little Ebenezer. More and more his personality seemed to dwell with her, and the impression of an un- finished episode in lifes evolution teased her wandering thoughts. Some- times it would appear in an expres- sion: When Zekiels little Ebenezer comes home, or Next time you write to Zekiels little Ebenezer, Mandy, tell him were waitin fur him; or there would be lapses into the sad con- viction that after all he must be dead. But she was never sad for long. She had the habit of cheerfulness. Now and then the doctor dropped in, always with the opening greeting, Well, hows the baby, Mandy? And the baby was always pleased to see him. He had an incurable habit of shouting his remarks at Grammer Great, which distressed Mandy; but it never troubled the old lady. He had the sensation, he said, of speaking to someone far away in time and space, as she sat shrunk into her big chair like a tiny old elf. I aint deef a mite, she would pipe back sweetly, but I dont mind your hollerin ef you like tomy second husband always hollered that-a-way ! One day after his brief talk with Grammer Great he called Mandy out to the door with him. Howd you like to give her up to her children noxv? he said, as he 2() MANDYS BABY. pulled the door softly to behind them. Well, I just wouldntand thats how ! answered Mandy shortly. Theyll none of em ever get a chance to neglect and abuse her again while I live! The doctor slapped his leg medita- tively with his gloves. Fact is, Mandy, he said, picking his words with suspicious care, fact is, Zekiels little Ebenezers been heard from. Hes raising a regular roozy to find Grammer Great, and theyre after me to know where she is ! Mandys heart stood still and then gave an angry bound. Took him quite a spell to get up an interest in it! Let him keep on huntin, and you just keep still ! I believe hed been sent word that she died some years ago, and as he hadnt much use for his fathers half- sisters, hes never had any communica- tion since with any of his folks till lately, when he heard by chance that his grandmother was still living. Hes turned up rich, and now theyre all in mortal terror for fear hell find out how they let her go to the poorhouse. just then there was a soft shuffling of feet in the entry, and Grammer Greats voice came in a reedy quaver to them where they stood. Here I be, Mandy, an its time we go feed the beastsyou and me All that night and the next day the tide of battle rose and fell in Mandys heart. It was cruelthis last terrible following of fate! To give her this final blessing, and then to force her to renounce itand voluntarily, too! No, she could not, she would not do it! Events might take their course. Grammer Great was happy where she was, and she would take no steps to alter the poor souls conditions. And all the time Mandy knew what Gram- mer Great would have done in her place, without any thought of self! During the next day the old lady was peculiarly clinging and hardly separated from Mandy for a moment. Sakes alive, what a blessin a good cup of tea is, she said blissfully at dinner, as she poured it into her saucer to cool. A bodyd ought to be thank- ful to be able to sense it, now hadnt they? She leaned back after a deeR and refreshing draught, and looked across with her beaming blue eyes at Mandy, sitting opposite, hard presse& with doubt and temptation. Shall we git at carpet rags or piece at them quilts this afternoon? she went on. Id kinder like to git them quilts done,. so wed both snuggle up under em next winter; and she laughed with a shrill ripple of anticipatory joy. IMy,. but we do take comfort now, dont we? I wish Zekiels little Ebenezer could just know once how nice Im fixed ! That night Mandy finished the con- flict and concluded a treaty of peace with her good angel. Grammer Greats sweet spirit of renunciation had descended upon her and conquered. In the morning, said Mandy to her- self decisively, I send word to the poorhouse t they shall let her folks know where she is ! They were doing up the breakfast dishes together, Mandy standing by the pan and Grammer Great wiping a plate in her lap as she sat by the table, when a man came crunching up the gravel path and knocked at the door. Mandy dried her hands and went to open to the stranger. Grammer Great following slowly after, found them fac- ing each other, the man on the door- step and Mandy awaiting his message, while the morning sun sent a flood of light down the hallway to where the faltering footsteps came nearer. Grammer Great, he cried with a choke in his voice, dont you know your little Ebenezer after so many years? Grammer Great wavered toward him with both hands out, and with a little satisfied croon that was half a laugh reached up to be gathered in his arms as if he had just come in after a days work in the hay field. Lapse of time and change of scene were dim and unimportant factors to her, and no disguise of hair and close cropped IA TERNATIONAL ARBITRATION. 21 beard turned gray could deceive the eyes of her great love. Mandy stood like one turned to stone. Through all the anguish of this finding that was to be her losing, a terrible and a beautiful recognition had come to her. She knew that the man before her was the Eben Plymp- ton of her youth, and the prairie grave so long mourned over was no more! It all turned out as such things should turn out, not quite as it might have, perhaps, if there had been no parting over the gate some thirty years before, but with enough of romance, and much of the blessing and happi- ness which come to hearts sorely dis ciplined in sorrow and renunciation when at last they reach their reward. It does not concern us here to know what entanglements or ties had come and gone for Zekiels little Ebenezer. Let it suffice that when he came to seek Grammer Great and found also the love of his youth, he was fancy free. There was a wedding, of course, and the doctor came and drank the health of the bride, shouting gay messages at Grammer Great, and wishing her long life. I wouldnt wondernot a mite. piped Grammer Great in high glee, ef I live to be a hundred! Were a turrible long-lived family ! K THE UNITED STATES, GREAT BRITAIN NATIONAL ARBITRATION. By Beijarnill F. Trileblood, LL. D. INTERNATIONAL arbitration has been both in its origin and in its development so largely and so in- timately associated with the relations of the United States and Great Britain to each other and to other countries, that a truer conception may be gained of its causes, its value, and the desir- ability and probability of its universal adoption by considering it from the standpoint of these two countries than by looking at it from a general and abstract point of view. This method of treatment will at the present time, at AND INTER- any rate, give a freshness of interest to the subject which could be imparted in no other way. In their development reforms some- times exhibit curious phenomena. That reform which proposes to bring on the happy time when nations shall no longer shed each others life-blood over their difficulties, but settle them as gentlemen now do their private mis- understandings, seems at the present hour to be passing through a highly interesting stage, which would be some- what amusing if it were not so serious. V 22 INTERNATIONAL ARBITRATION. International arbitration had its origin with the United States, and has found its largest development in con- nection with our foreign affairs. About half of all the important inter- national difficulties settled in this way have been between the United States on the one side and some foreign na- tion on the other. It is not strange, then, that the method should be in great favor with us. We are fond of it, as we are of everything American. We are proud of the splendid groxvth which it has made under our fostering care. It is the American system; it is our settled policy; and we are anxious to have the rest of the world adopt it without delay. Indeed, so great and enthusiastic has our attachment to it become, that our government, inspired by the extraordinary virtue of some of its citizens, has already decided that in certain eventualities it will go to war and employ the whole military power of the nation, on land and sea, in order to enforce this peaceful sys- tem on a sister nation. We will have peace, if we have to fight for it seems to have passed with us from the region of sentimental expression into that of serious business. I have recently heard it argued seriously on the streets of Boston that this would be a highly righteous act on our part, and would do more to secure the universal adop- tion of international arbitration than all the varied kinds of peace effort put forth during the last fifty years. Only a few days ago, a poem came to the office of the American Peace Society, asking for publication, written some- what in the style of Rally round the flag, boys, calling upon all our citi- zens to fly, in arms if need be, to the defence of Venezuela against British aggression, and all, as the last line of each stanza said, In the cause of peaceful arbitration. The advocates of this mode of pro- moting arbitration, perhaps a majority of them, must be credited with sincerity and with generosity of purpose. It is perfectly evident, however, that a con- siderable number of them, and those not the least prominent, are simply making American love of arbitration and peace a cloak to cover their silly dislike of Great Britain and, worse still, their selfish desire that the United States may soon have a big war as a means of exhibiting in a striking way her greatness and her supposed superi- ority to all the rest of the creation. These sonorous patriots do not care a farthing whether Great Britain arbi- trates her boundary dispute with Vene- zuela or not; some of them would be very unhappy if she should. The sin- cere among this class of our citizens. reason that, if Great Britain were once soundly thrashed by us for her colonial aggression, she would forth- with change her conduct and hence- forth meekly submit all her differences. with other countries, weak as well as. strong, to arbitration. Other nations seeing this and standing in awe of Uncle Sams cudgel would quickly follow her example, and the cause of arbitration would be virtually won. Such reasoning as this, which it is. difficult to treat seriously, disregards the plainest lessons of history. One of the most serious obstacles against which arbitration has had to make its way has been the animosity between nations laid deep in the national char- acter by wars. This sensitive dislike, created and fed by the cruel deeds of war, works as powerfully with the vic- tor as with the vanquished. Hon. John W. Foster, on his recent visit to the East, got Li Hung Chang to introduce a general arbitration clause into the treaty of peace then about to be made between China and Japan. But the victorious nation, with a touch of haughtiness bred of her success, deliberately rejected it. She was not yet ready to hang up, by a treaty of arbitration, her hungry sword. It would be as difficult to induce Germany as it would be to persuade France to enter into a treaty, either temporary or permanent, by which it should be agreed to submit all the. future differences of the two countries. INTERNATIONAL ARBITRATION. 23 to arbitration. Though nearly one hundred important arbitrations have taken place within this century, only one of these, and that hardly an arbi- tration, has been between these two countries, which a long series of wars has barricaded against each other. The hatred and jealousy which war engenders are everywhere the great obstacle to that confiding international fellowship which expresses itself in the ready arbitration of difficulties. Tt is in the highest degree preposterous to suppose that a war would promote the very principle which it brutally vio- lates. No check so effectual could be put upon the steady progress of arbi- tration and of the civilization rooted in justice and liberty, of which it is the expression, as a war between this and the mother country, even if fought on our part in defence of the principle of arbitration. Neither nation would arbitrate with the other as readily afterwards as it does now. The effect on the United States would be even worse than upon Great Britain. We have conquered her in two wars, and, strange to say, she is the only nation with which we ever talk of fight- ing or have any wish to fight. The dislike of Great Britain in this country is deeper seated and more unyielding than animosity toward our people on her side. It would be easy to show that we have been less willing than she to sub- mit to arbitration the differences be- tween the two countries. When the Behring Sea dispute was first under discussion, there were num- bers of people and of newspapers in this country that declared there was nothing to arbitrate, that we ought to yield nothing, but rather go to war and drive her out of the Sea. In the Ala- bama difficulty our reluctance was still greater. One treaty agreeing to sub- mit the case was rejected by the Senate, and but for the prudence and patience of Mr. Hamilton Fish this greatest of arbitrations would possibly not be on record. Our minister to England in 1869 was as bellicose as the people, and Mr. Fish had finally not only severely to reprimand him but to con- sent that the President should call him home. The more than thirty disputes which we have settled with other nations with which we have never been at war have cost us less than one- fourth the diplomatic contention that thirteen with the mother country have occasioned, and none of the hard words and recrimination. But in spite of the disturbance which the sediment of war has produced be- tween them, other causes have been at work to make these two nations by far the leaders of the world in Christian civilization and in the international arbitration movement attendingit. The evil spirit just alluded to has been ren- dered measurably harmless by the bet- ter and nobler spirit which has inspired and led the two nations on. If in the work of humanizing the world the United States has been foremost, it would be difficult to say how much or in what respects. Except in name, our kinsmen on the other side of the sea are as free as we are. The princi- ples for which the Revolution was fought have taken root nearly as deeply there as here. The same systems of religion, education, law, and in large measure of government, both local and national, prevail on both sides of the water. I have said that the system of inter- national arbitration originated with the United States,* and that it has had its development more especially through our countrys support. But this is hardly a full or even a fair statement of the case. On the part of the United States the credit of originating the sys- tem is due to one man, John Jay, rather than to the nation. The na- tions part in the origination was not very creditable. The people of the newly-formed republic, smarting under * This statement must not be interpreted to mean that there had been no isolated cases of international arbitra- tion before the founding of the United States. Three or four such settlements of a really international character, are cited as having taken place about one hundred years earlier. But not until the United 5tates and Great Britain began to settle difficulties in this way did the application of arbitration to international differences enter upon a regular and systematic development. 24 INTERNATIONAL ARBITRATION. the sufferings and losses inflicted by the mother country, and proud of their victory over her, were in no mood for arbitrating or making any concessions whatever. When Mr. Jay returned from England, in 1795, after having negotiated the famous treaty out of which the whole system of modem international arbitration grew, he was no sooner on shore than he was the most unpopular man in the country. He was cursed as a traitor to his na- tive land, he was burned in effigy in Boston, and if his treaty had been re- ferred to the people it would have been torn to shreds and given to the winds. But Washington and a majority of Congress saw the wisdom of the treaty and saved it, Congress adopting it by a majority of only seven out of a total vote of 109. The credit of originating the system is due, therefore, not so much to the nation as to the wisdom and sobermindedness of Mr. Jay and a few friends fortunately situated. But this famous treaty had an Eng- lish as well as an American side. Lord Grenville, the British Foreign Secre- tary at that time, helped to draft it. It was ratified by the British government as well as by the Congress of the United States, and the English people could not have received it with worse grace than it was received here. In the development and practical application of the system of arbitration, also, Great Britain has had a share scarcely less creditable than our owa. We have arbitrated about forty cases; she, not less than thirty. The United States has settled difficulties in this way with sixteen nations, thirteen of which are weak powers; Great Britain with eleven, six of which are weak powers. The txvo countries have set- tled thirteen disputes between them- selves in this mannerthirteen of the most difficult, delicate and far-reaching in consequences of all the cases ever adjusted by arbitration. In the con- duct of these cases and in loyalty to the decisions rendered by the tribunals, the behavior of Great Britain has always been conspicuously honorable. She has hesitated in the first instance to submit her cases lest she should lose them; we have hesitated lest we should not get all that we claimed. Her cases, not only with the United States but with other nations, have nearly always been decided against her; but she has invariably paid the smart money honorably and without excessive growling. We have certainly done no better, possibly not quite so well, in the few cases where we have lost. Whoever studies thoroughly and impartially the history of the origin and groxvth of the international arbi- tration movement must speedily con- vince himself that it centres in the heart and life of the great English- speaking people as a whole, not in that of either branch alone, and that the honors are almost equally divided be- tween the two branches. It is the out- growth of the principles of justice, liberty, equality and fraternity, on which Anglo-American civilization is built up. Deeper still, it finds its sources in the elemental Christian principles of love to God and love to man, in rev- erence for the divine law and devo- tion to human good, to which this great people has given itself more thor- oughly than any other on the face of the globe. The American and the Englishman have wrought side by side in this work since the one people be- came two nations. In the arbitration movement for a longtimetheywrought almost entirely alone. During a pe- riod of three-quarters of a century, from 1798, when the first of the com- missions appointed under the Jay Treaty rendered its decision, to 1872, when the celebrated Alabama case was decided at Geneva, there had been something like thirty-five settlements of international differences by arbitra- tion. Either the United States or Great Britain appeared as a party in all of these except three. In the forty- five which have occurred since 1872, the one or the other of these two na- tions has appeared as a party twenty times. In other kindred ways has the arbi INTERNATIONAL ARBITRATION. 25 ~tration movement been promoted by These two nations. In 1873, on the motion of Mr. Henry Richard, the British House of Commons passed, by the casting vote of the Speaker, a reso- lution formally approving of the prin- ciple of arbitration in the settlement of international difficulties. This waS the first general official recognition of the principle ever given by a national legis- lative body, the resolution of the same kind introduced by Charles Sumner into the United States Senate the year before having got no further than the order to refer and print. Our Senate had, however, done much to promote the cause by its ready ratification of nearly all the treaties providing for the particular arbitrations which had oc- curred up to that time. I need hardly refer to the visit to this country made by the distinguished British deputation in 1887, bearing a numerously signed memorial, and to the strength given thereby to this grow- ing movement; nor to the still greater influence exerted by the International American Conference of 1889-90, called by our own Secretary of State. The arbitration treaty drawn by this Conference did not lapse through any fault of the United States; and our government has since made an attempt to revive it and have it ratified. Its failure of ratification did not, however, prevent it from exercising a great in- fluence throughout the world, whither it had been sent. About the time that this Conference adjourned, our Con- gress unanimously adopted a resolu- tion approving of the general princi- ple of international arbitration, like that of the House of Commons seven- teen years earlier. Another resolution was passed by the Hotise of Commons in 1893, more specific, more cordial, than the earlier one, and this time by a unanimous vote. Another memorial more numerously signed than that of 1887, has recently crossed the sea to us, emanating, not from the British Government, but from the nations representatives in Parliament, and thus voicing the real spirit of the English people. The President of the United States has given the matter honorable mention in a message to Congress. So the movement has gone on for a century. It has drawn into its wid- ening and deepening current much of the best thought, of the best sentiment, of the best purpose of the two coun- tries. It had really begun to seem that the two nations were just on the, point of binding themselves together by a l)ermanent treaty of arbitration into a band of perpetual friendship, and that they were to lead in the inauguration of a great international tribunal before which all otherwise unsolvable differ- ences between the nations should be brought for adjustment. For this movement had by no means confined itself to the two branches of the Eng- lish-speaking people. It had slowly but surely passed out from this centre to the rest of the world. It had touched nearly every nation in both the Old World and the New. Some of these nations have in recent years several times arbitrated their differences. In the national legislatures of eight of them have resolutions been passed fa- voring the principle of arbitration. Some of them have become almost as thoroughly interested in the movement as the United States and Great Brit- ain. Only last summer Francefight- ing, glory-seeking France went a step further than either of these na- tions has ever gone, and frankly asked our country to join her in a permanent treaty of arbitration. The movement was really becoming contagious. And now, when it promised soon to issue in one of the most magnificent triumphs of reason and conscience known to history, the whole movement is suddenly brought to a dead stand- still, and that too by the very nations xvhich originated it and have been its chief support. British greed and domi- neering on the one hand and Ameri- can jingoism and hotheadedness on the other have combined to humiliate and disgrace both countries, by tem- porarily arresting and confusing their growing unity and turning their great- 26 INTERNA TIOATAL ARBITRATION. est glory into shame. Americans are saying that all Great Britains profes- sions of attachment to arbitration have been false; Englishmen declare that we have abandoned our own cherished principles and that we are willing to go to any length of absurdity, in order to manifest our hatred for them. Old wounds have been torn open, old dis- like and distrust awakened; the old in- stinct~ of savagery and barbarism which had been smothered nearly dead in Anglo-Saxon blood have been sud- denly let upon their feet again. The proposed treaty of arbitration between the two countries is thrust out of sight. In the flurry and confusion at Wash- ington not a moment of thought can be given to the courteous and cordial invitation of France to join her in a treaty of permanent friendship. Great principles, the demands of modern times, are ignored. We have turned our faces backward and are shouting our devotion into the spaces from which we have come. The cause of international fellowship has been tem- porarily injured everywhere by the mere suggestion of war between this country and Great Britain. Latent animosities have been started into life all over the world. The South Ameri- can nations have been inflamed against Europe. The chronic meddlesomeness of European nations has been greatly stimulated. For years probably, at best, will it be impossible to bring the arbitration movement back to the fa- vorable position which it had reached last summer. But this movement has its causes too deep and abiding to admit of any- thing but temporary restraint. The forces which have been carrying it for- ward so successfully and so rapidly in recent years will before long break down all obstacles. The magnificent outburst of intelligent Christian oppo- sition to war and war talk which has taken place in connection with the recent excitement has been a revela- tion even to those of us who make it our business to study the subject and to watch for hopeful signs. In spite of appearances to the contrary, the cause has made more real progress than even the most sanguine had sup- posed. The splendid utterances to which we have been listening on both sides of the ocean are a pledge that the Anglo-American people can not much longer be blinded and led away by senseless jingoistic war flurries, and that any British ministry or United States administration that dares to let loose the winds of passion and strife will have to answer for it with humilia- tion at the bar of public opinion. The time has come when the word hostilities ought to become obsolete in the dictionary of international relations~ especially in that of English-speaking? peoples. Civilization has become to& complex and sensitive, tco interdepend- ent in all its parts, too intelligent and humane, too conscientious and Chris- tian, to permit itself hereafter to be imperiled by senseless sentimental ap- peals to ancient and outgrown theories of courage, honor and safety. War has become intolerable in our modern so- ciety. It ought to be outlawed at once. Morality and reason have been condemning it from time immemorial ~ it is now condemned besides by the multiplied interests of an intricate~ world-wide association of men. If nations still have differences which an intelligent and peaceful diplomacy can not dispose of, there remains but one honorable appeal, that to arbitration. This method will always bring peace with honor; no other in our time will. It has been tried so often and so suc- cessfully, in disputes of every conceiv- able kind, that it has won its case at the bar of civilization. To reject its adop- tion longer is to reject not only the arguments of conscience, reason and expediency, but that other argument from which there is no escapesuc- cess. The civilized nations ought, then~ without delay, to bind themselves by treaties hereafter to settle all their otherwise unadjustable conflicts by this peaceful, reasonable and honora- ble method, and to take immediate BOTANY AND BOTANISTS IN NEW ENGLAND. 27 steps to create a great worlds tribunal before which all such disputes may be quickly carried. The United States and Great Britain, by the sacred princi- ples which lie at the basis of their national life and growth, by the noble record which they have already made in the field of arbitration, and by their conspicuous position as joint leaders of the worlds progress towards right- eousness and peace, are doubly bound, both in duty and in honor, to cease at once and for all time all threats and talk of fighting and to bind themselves in solemn, irrevocable compact to abandon war forever. BOTANY AND BOTANISTS IN NEW ENGLAND. By 7ames Ellis Humphrey. T was natural that the earliest students of plants were inter- ested in them chiefly as sources of sustenance or of healing. It was wholly from this point of ~ the that they were treated by classic writers, whose accounts furnished the only avail- able information for the few who interested themselves in such matters during the Dark Ages. And long after the revival of learning they re- mained very few who were not deterred by the fate of Roger Bacon and Alber- tus Magnus from the investigation of natural phenomena. When finally the results of study and travel had shown the futility of the early attempts to identify the Mediterranean plants of Theophrastus and Dioscorides with those of northern Europe, attention was turned from study of the books to the examination of plants. But it was still chiefly for their real or reputed medicinal value that they were thought of interest, and the inateria inedica came shortly to include almost every known plant. To very many of these the most marvellous properties were attributed by the herbalists and the gatherers of simples. When New England was settled, there was no science of botany. The only knowledge of plants was this pseudo-science of the drug-mongers, and the most elementary principles of their activity in the economy of nature were yet undreamed-of. Theology held full sway over mens minds, and knowledge of the physical world suf- fered equally under both prevailing forms. The dominant theology of the greater part of Europe often served as a cloak and excuse for an idle and a brainless life. The opposing Cal- vinism which ruled New England saw in our world only a vale of tears, and staked its existence on keeping it so; while its logic was to glorify the Creator by contempt for creation. Among the early writers on New Eng- land, the Winthrops, Dudley, Higgin BOTANY AND BOTANISTS IN NEW ENGLAND. son and Wood made incidental refer- ~nce to some plants of the country, and the earlier explorers had carried back a few of the more striking ones to Europe. Thus by the beginning of the seventeenth century our Indian corn, pitcher-plant, milk-weed and arbor-vit~, among others, were known to the herbalists. The first serious attempt to describe the natural products of our region was that of an Englishman, John Josselyn, who spent several years here. The chief authority for English-speaking students of his time were the herbal of Gerarde, published in 1636, and that of Parkinson, which appeared four years later. These are huge quartos, filled with the most fantastic statements about plants and theirvirtues, and illus- trated by crude but, for the most part, recognizable wood-cuts of the plants described. The accompanying illus- tration is from a photograph of Par- kinsons herbal. The page on the left is devoted to the peanut and may give an idea of the so-called botanical knowledge of the times. This volume of 1755 pages is called the Theatrwn Botanicum, and was pre- pared by John Parkinson, Apothe- cary of London, and the Kings Herb- arist. At least so far as American plants are concerned, it justified its claim to contain accounts of more than hath been hitherto published by any before. The authors classifica- tion well shows the utter lack of insight into plant structure and the emphasis laid on their properties in his time. Some of his groups are: i. Sweete smelling Plants. 2. Purg- ing Plants. 3. Venomous, Sleepy, and Hurt- full Plants, and their Counterpoysons. 4. Saxifrages or Breake-stone Plants. ~. Vul- nerary or Wound Herbes. In a few cases, where the plants of what we now call a natural group or family possess some striking external peculiarity, this was seized upon; so that a few of his groups correspond in a general way with some now recog- nized. Such are: 8. Umbelliferous Plants. ii. Pulses. ~T3. Grasses, Rushes, and Reedes. This was the state of knowledge when Josselyn wrote; and, as he was an amateur and no very accurate ob- server at best, we shall not find his work superior to that of his contempo- raries. He made visits to New Eng- land in 1638 and in 1663, the latter of several years duration; and most of the time was spent as the guest of his brother, a settler at Black Point, now Scarborough, Maine. He published two volumes concerning these travels, one entitled, New Englands Rarities discovered in birds, beasts,~fishes, ser- pents and plants of that Country, and published at London in 1672; the other, An Account of two voyages to New England, the second edition of which appeared in 1675. The latter has been reprinted in book form in Boston, and also in the Collections of the Massachusetts Historical So- ciety. The former was issued with full and valuable annotations by Prof. Edward Tuckerman, in i86~ and careful notes on that part of it relating to plants had previously been pub- lished by Rev. J. L. Russell, in Hoveys Alaga2me of Horticulture for 1858. Both works contain extensive notes on the products of the region, quite in the style of the times. The lists given in the Rarities, especially of such plants as have sprung up since the English Planted and Kept Cattle in New Eng- land, have been of service in throwing light on questions concerning the in- digenous or introduced character of certain plants, and concerning the time of arrival of various vegetable immi- grants. It will afford an instructive idea of the botanical and therapeutic notions of our earliest American an- cestors to quote Josselyns accounts of two well-known plants. He gives the earliest figure and description of our j ewel-xveed, Impatiens fulva. This Plant the Humming Bird feedeth upon, it groweth likewise in wet grounds, and is not at its full growth till July, and then it is two cubits high and better, the Leaves are thin, and of a pale green Colour, some of them as big as a Nettle Leaf, it spreads into many Branches, knotty at the setting on, and of a purple Colour, and garnished at the top BOTANY AND BOTANISTS IN NEW ENGLAND. with many hollow dangling flowers of a bright yellow Colour, speckled with a deeper yellow as it were shadowed, the Stalks are as hollow as a kix, and so are the roots, which are transparent, very tender, and full of a yellow- ish juice. . . . The Indians make use of it for Aches, being bruised between two stones, and laid to cold, but made, (after the English manner) into an unguent with Hogs Grease, there is not a more sovereign remedy for bruises of what kind soever; and for Aches upon Stroakes. The description is surprisingly good, and the figure unmistakable. A hundred years later the same plant was thought an excellent remedy for jaundice. To-day it has no place in the materia medica. Of Americas best-known gift to the world Josselyn says The vertues of Tobacco are these, it helps digestion, the Gout, the Tooth-ach, prevents infection by scents, it heats the cold, and cools them that sweat, spent spirits re- storeth, purgeth the stomach, killeth nits and lice; the juice of the green leaf healeth green wounds, although poysoned; the Syrup for many diseases, the smoak for the Phthisick, cough of the lungs, distillations of Rheume and all diseases of a cold and moist cause, good for all bodies cold and moist taken upon an emptie stomach,.taken upon a full stom- ach it precipitates digestion, immoderately taken it dryeth the body, enflameth the bloud, hurteth the brain, weakens the eyes and the sinews.~~ A suggestion of the current mythol- ogy comes in the query appended to the account of plants introduced from England: 2. What became of the influence of those Planets that produce and govern these Plants before this time? And the strictly human standpoint from which all diseases were regarded could hardly be better shown than by the following: Their fruit-trees are subject to two dis- eases, the Meazels, which is when th eyare burned and scorched with the Sun, and low- siness, when the woodpeckers job holes in their bark: the way to cure them when they are lowsie is to bore a hole into the main root with an Augur, and pour in a quantity of Brandie or Rhum, and then stop it up with a pin made of the same tree. However popular with human pa- tients this treatment may have been, our author had hardly learned its effi- cacy for fruit-trees by personal experi- ence. Before the first native botanist is en- countered, more than a century must be passed over. But this period was a great one in the. history of science. The latter part of the seventeenth cen- tury saw the founding of the Royal Society of London and of other learned societies devoted to the increase of natural knowledge,~ which were the fruits of the great awakening to the external world brought about by the Baconian philos- ophy. In spite of the fact that natural science speedily became the vogue in England, and a chief subject of polite conversation, some of its greatest dis- coveries date from this time. Such are those of the law of gravitation and of the circulation of the blood. Plants now began to be philosophically studied, and the broader outlines of a classification based on really funda- mental features were now sketched. Besides, improvements in the theory and construction of the microscope made possible its application to the study of the minute structure of plants, and many important discoveries con- cerning their physiology were made in these and the following years. But the overwhelming influence of the great Linna~us obscured these pro- founder studies, and gave to the botany of the eighteenth century an almost ex- clusively systematic and descriptive character. Linmeus was the author of the binomial system of nomencla- ture of plants and animals, which still goes back to his work as its basis, and of the artificial sexual system of classification, based on the stamens and pistils of the flowering plants, whose functions as reproductive or- gans were already recognized. The order which he brought out of the chaos of descriptive natural history was a blessing so unalloyed, and his system was so simple and seductive, that it was many years before most botanists again began to realize that their science properly comprehends 30 BOTANY AND BOTANISTS IN NEW ENGLAND. other problems than those involved in naming and pigeon-holing plants. It was while the Linn~an enthusi- asm was at its height that the first New England botanist appeared on the scene. Very many American plants had already been described by LinnEeus and his followers; but they had been collected chiefly by travellers or set- tlers from Europe, and few of these had visited our rocky corner of the country. Manasseh Cutler was a native of Killingly, Coun., and was graduated at Yale in 1765. After a few years of teaching in Dedham, Mass., and of business life at Edgartown, in the intervals of which he read law, he was admitted to the bar. But he soon decided to enter the ministry, and studied with his father-in-law, Rev. iVIr. Balch, of Dedham. He received calls from several Massachusetts parishes, and finally, in 1771, accepted that to Ipswich Hamlet, which became, in 1793, the town of Hamilton. He there remained until his death, in 1823, the peer of any amongst the great~ hearted and large-minded ministers of those times that tried mens souls, in whom New England orthodoxy so far outran in practice the meagre promise of its theory. His energy and capacity enabled him to study and successfully practise medicine during the Revolution, when the parish physi- cian was at the front, and to eke out his slender salary by fitting for college many boys, in the list of whom one finds not a few of Salems distinguished names,Lowell, Silsbee, Derby and Cabot among the rest,and by teaching the theory of navigation to others who became the most famous ship-masters of that old ports palmy days. After the Revolution, oerleap- ing the narrow confines of New Eng- land, he personally engineered through Congress the famous grant of land in the Northwest Territory on which the first settlements were made, and se- cured the incorporation of the momen- tous clause in the Ordinance of 1787 excluding slavery from the territory. He gave two sons to the first settle- ment at Marietta, and soon after spent a few months there, making the first serious study of the age of the wonder- ful earth-works of the Ohio valley, from data furnished by the trees and remains of trees found on them. He served his district in Congress during Jeffersons first term. It was while doing double duty as spiritual and physical healer that Dr. Cutler first became attracted to the study of the plants of his neighbor- hood. He had also been much inter- ested in some problems of plant physi- ology by reading the still classic Vegetable Staticks of Stephen Hales; but the difficulties under which he labored may be gathered from the fact that not even a barometer could be had in Salem. The dearth of books and of money for their purchase in a country parish, and the practical isola- tion occasioned by a separation of twenty-five miles in the days of horse- power locomotion, were also hin- drances of a very practical kind to the pursuit of science. In 1781 Dr. Cutler wrote to the Corporation of Harvard College that he had been trying to study plants, but had not the necessary books and had failed to procure them in Europe. He therefore asked to be allowed to bor- row Dr. Hills Natural History from the College library for a short time, offering to pay for its use such sum as the Corporation might determine. In spite of his modesty, one may be quite sure he received the desired permission unconditionally. In the same year, when the American Academy of Arts and Sciences was organized, Dr. Cut- ler was elected a member, and, two years later, a member of its first com- mittee on communications. In 1785, in the first volume of the Memoirs of the Academy, was printed the chief published result of this writers botani- cal studies, and the first account, after J osselyns, of New England plants. This paper is entitled, An Account of some of the Vegetable Productions growing naturally in this part of Amer- ica, botanically arranged. It shows BOTANY AND BOTANISTS IN NEW ENGLAND. 31 the beginning of the scientific spirit in botany, but also shows how large a place was still given by students of plants to the investigation of their properties. But the discrimination now evident is in marked contrast with the wholesale credulity of the previous century. In his introduction Cutler wrote: The almost total neglect of botanical enquiries, in this part of the country, may be imputed, in part, to this, that Botany has never been taught in any of our Golleges, and to the difficulties that are supposed to attend it; but principally to the mistaken opinion of its inutility in common life. A few extracts may illustrate his treatment of common plants : HAMAMELIS. Witch Hazel. The Indians considered this tree as a valuable article in their materia inedica. They applied the bark, which is sedative and disentient, to painful tumors and external inflammations. A cataplasm of the inner rind of the hark is found to be efficacious in removing painful inflammations of the eyes. The specific qualities of this tree seem, by no means, to be accurately ascertained. It is, probably, possessed of very valuable properties. Whatever may be its real value, witch-hazel has not yet lost its popular reputation for the very virtues here ascribed to it. AscLEPIAS. Silhweed. It may be carded and spun into an even thread, which makes an excellent wick-yarn. The candles will burn equally free, and afford a clearer light than those made of cotton wicks. They will not require so frequent snuffing, and the smoke of the snuff is less offensive. Here is perhaps a practical suggestion for these days of the revival of candle- light. BERBERIS. Barberry. It is said that rye and wheat will be in- jured by this shrub, at a distance of three or four hundred yards; but only when it is in blossom, by means of the farina fecundans boing blown upon the grain, which prevents the ears from filling. This is an interesting statement of the explanation offered a hundred years ago of the harmful influence of barberry bushes upon grain, the belief in which dates back to a much earlier time. It is now known that the micro- scopic dust wafted to the grain from the barberry bushes is not, as Cutler thought, the pollen of the latter, but the spores of a parasitic fungus, which passes through a part of its life-history upon the barberry, and requires to be transferred to a grain or other grass to complete the cycle. FROM NEW ENGLANDS EANITTES DISC& VEEED. In July, 1784, Dr. Cutler was a member of the first party to ascend the White Mountains for scientific obser- vation; and he repeated the trip just twenty years after. An outcome of this was the List of trees and plants, which he furnished for Belkuaps His- tory of New Hampshire. On all his journeys he studied plants un- weariedly. He had doubtless pro- jected an elaborate botanical work, JOSSELYN S HUMMING-BIRD PLANT.~~ 32 BOTANY AND BOTANISTS IN NEW ENGLAND. and the manuscript materials he left show that this would have placed him in the front of American botanists. More than a dozen volumes of notes and drawings were accumulated by him, and some of them are still in ex- istence. According to the late Pro- fessor Tuckerman, he anticipated much of the work of later botanists, such as the separation of the hickories from the true walnuts, and the indica- tion of many of the new species first published by Bigelow, Nuttall and Gray. He conducted a voluminous corres- pondence with the most distinguished men of America and with many in Europe. The complete set of the Species Plantarum of Linn~us, sent him by the Swedish botanist Swartz, is now in the library of the Essex In- stitute, at Salem. He was elected a member of many learned societies, and received the title LL. D. from his alma mater in 1789. He was a lover of plants from an ~esthetic, as well as from a scientific, standpoint, and culti- vated about his house many not before seen in New England, such as the pawpaw, the persimmon, the tulip- tree and the trumpet-vine. i[n the variety of his interests and occupa- tions, and in his fine grasp of what- ever he undertook, our pioneer bota- nist is but another example of the effi- cacy of hard work; and his life of eighty-one years is additional evi- dence that, with reasonable care, the human mechanism wears out no sooner than it rusts out. An attempt to supply the lack of botanical teaching in our colleges, which Cutler remarked, was soon thereafter made. The first instruc- tion in natural history in New England was given in lectures by Dr. Benjamin Waterhouse, Professor of the Theory and Practice of Physic in the Uni- versity at Cambridge, Mass. A native of Newport, R. I., and trained in the best European schools, Dr. Waterhouse steadily maintained that his interest in natural history was wholly subsidiary to his devotion to medicine; but his conception of the scope of botany was so broad and modern, and his lectures were so supe- rior, with due allowance for the state of knowledge in his time, to much that passes for botanical teaching to-day, that his standpoint deserves recogni- tion here. He held for a few years the chair of Natural History in Brown University, and gave a course of twelve lectures on that general sub- ject in 178687. In 1788 he began annual courses of lectures at Harvard, which attracted much attention. The botanical lectures of these courses were printed in the Monthly Anthol- ogy from 1804 to i8o8; and in i8ii they were published at Boston in a volume entitled ~The Botanist. In the preface to this volume, the author says It is of importance that one universal language should be adopted by botanists; but it is wrong to make that and classification the primary object. Agreeably to this doctrine is the sentiment of the famous Rousseau, who, in his Letters on the Elements of Botany, says, I have always thought it possible to~ be a very great botanist without knowing so much as one plant by name. . . . To be able to pronounce, at first sight, the name of each mineral, to distinguish one genus of plant from another, and to discriminate stuffed animals in a museum were, it seems, enough to entitle a man to be considered a Natural Historian; when, at the same time, he per- haps knew nothing of the anatomy of a seed, and of its gradual development into a perfect plant and flower, producing again a seed or epitome of its parent, capable of generating its kind forever. These words are equally appropriate at present, for the idea of botany which they embody is hardly better grasped by the popular mind than when they were written. A result of Dr. Waterhouses lec- tures was that several gentlemen of opulence and literary influence in the government of the University came to the resolution of laying a foundation for a Professorship of Botany and Entomology; to which they deter- mined to annex an extensive Botanic Garden. Thirty or forty thousand dollars were subscribed, and the Legis- lature gave two townships toward the PA 1NS& NS TII AT 1TM BOTANICU~{, 1640. 34 BOTANY AND BOTANISTS IN NEW ENGLAND. MANASSEH CUTLER. establishment of the professorship and garden at Cambridge. The Massa- chnsetts Society for promoting Agri- cnitnre also aided the garden project. In 1805 the present Botanic Garden was established; and William Dand- ridge Peck became the first incnmbent of the chair of Natnral History, which he held for seventeen years. A stn- dent and an ingenions mechanic, Pro- fessor Peck was especially interested in insects, and his infinence npon the botany of his time was not marked. After his death Harvard was too poor for twenty years to fill his chair; bnt Thomas Nnttall, a distingnished natn- ralist of English birth, was called to the cnratorship of the Botanic Garden, and remained in that post nntil 1828. A printer by trade, Nnttalls love of travel and of natnral history had led him a roving life. Except for his six years at Canibridge, his headqnarters dnring thirty-six years residence in America were in Philadelphia. Dnr- ing this time he travelled in all parts of the conntry, and discovered great nnmbers of new plants. He was essentially a descriptive natnralist, and possessed nice power of discrimina tion. He pnblished an Introdnction to Botany (Boston, 1827), which con- tains a few chapters on the anatomy of plants, bnt is chiefly devoted to the description of the flower and of the Linniean classification based on its parts. He seems to have regarded botany for the ordinary stndent as merely a pretty amnsement, a notion which his presentation of the snbject certainly jnstifies, and which has not yet disappeared from the pnblic mind. Of his stay in Cambridge the late Dr. A. P. Peabody has written: His name was mythical to the members of the college. We used to hear of him as the greatest of naturalists; hut I never knew of his beingseen. . . . I think that the cat- alogue promised instruction by him to those who wanted it; but I never heard of his having a pupil. Cnrionsly enongh, the chief native New England botanist among the con- temporaries of Peck and Nnttall was never a teacher of natnral history. Many a Bostonian not yet old remem- bers the charming personality of Dr. Jacob Bigelow. Born in Sndbnry, Mass., he was gradnated at Harvard in i8o6, and from its ivledical School in i8io. For forty years after 1815 he was Professor of Materia Medica in the same school, a position for which, says Dr. Peabody, he had very mnch the same qnalification that a learned nnbeliever might have for a professor- ship of Christian theology. No other man of his time had so little faith in drngs. How mnch New England patients of two and three generations ago owe to snch an infinence in the training of their practitioners is be- yond calcnlation. He held also the Rnniford chair of Applied Science at Cambridge from i8i6 to 1827, and his lectnres on this fonndation were among the great attractions of the col- lege conrse. As the chief member of the first committee on the American Pharmacopceia, as the leading spirit in the establishment of Monut Anbnrn cemetery, and in all good works, he was widely known. A finished classi- cal scholar, he was among the first to BOTANY AND BOTANISTS IN NEW ENGLAND. 3~5 depreciate the value of the classics in a practical education, as compared with technical and scientific training. His botanical fame rests on two works. The Florula Bostoniensis, the first published key to the plants of the vicinity of Boston, appeared in 1814, and new editions were required in 1824 and 1840. It is not easy to over- estimate the influence of this classic work in creating an interest in the botany of the widening region covered by its successive edi- tions, or fully t 0 appreciate now the labor involved, and the enthusiasm which sustained it, in the col- lection of the data for its prep ara t i 0 n. The American Medical Bot- any, published in three vol- umes between 1817 and 1820, was long the standard au- thority on our officinal plants. Among the contributors of local material for the Florula may be men- tioned Dr. Andrew Nichols, of South Danvers (now Peabody), a pupil of Dr. Waterhouse, and Dr. George Osgood, of Danvers, enthusiastic amateurs when such were few. Contemporary with Nuttall and Bigelow were two botanists of western Massachusetts, who belong equally to New York. Amos Eaton, our first professional teacher of natural history, and especially of botany, was a native of New York state. After experience as a blacksmiths apprentice, he was finally graduated from Williams Col lege in i7~. He then studied law, but, after a series of reverses and mis- fortunes, determined to devote himself to natural history. Pursuing its study, partly at Yale, he began lec- turing on botany and geology at Will- iams in 1817. By this means, com- bined with the teaching of private pu- pils and other lecturing, he supported himself until made, in 1824, Senior Professor in the Rensselaer Polytech- nic Institute, at Troy, which po- sition he retained up to his death, in 1842. He was the author of various text- books and of the most widely used Manual of Botany of his time. This appeared in its first edition al- most simultane- ously with the publication of Dr. Bigelows Florula; and its eighth and last edition, called North American Bot- any, with Dr. Bigelows last, marks the year 1840 as the date of the final ap- pearance of the Linna~an hand-books. Professor Eaton was to the end a strong oppo- nent of the natural system which was gradually replacing the artificial one to which he clung, and for which the latter was intended by its author only as a temporary sub- stitute. He was one of the numerous disciples of Linn~us who outdid their master in devotion to his system, because without his insight into the true principles of classification. His conception of the botanist is shown in the following explicit statement of JACOB BIGELOW. BOTANY AND BOTANISTS IN NEW ENGLAND. notions diametrically opposed to those of Dr. Waterhonse No one should ever be employed as a teacher of Botany, unless he can give his pupils at sight the names of at least four hun- dred species of indigenous plants, growing in the vicinity of his school; and he ought to be able to recognize from the mere habits of plants six or eight hundred species. Bnt while this most pernicious fea- ture of Professor Eatons teaching has been so extensively perpetuated in that of the present, its best aspect has been as largely lost sight of. Near the end of his life he wrote to teachers of botany: If you have any respect for yourselves, or for human science, I beg that you will never lend your aid in that public imposition which has, within the last dozen years, de- graded and debased the study of botany. I mean that of pretending to teach practical botany by school lessons, without having each student hold in his hand a system of plants and living specimens for perpetual demonstration. . . . It is true that pictures may be studied; so may the picture of a blacksmith shoeing a horse be studied. But can you become a blacksmith by studying this picture? It is only in the last few years that this warning has begnn to be less needed than half a centnry ago. Chester Dewey was born in Shef- field, Mass., and was gradnated at Williams in i8o6. After the study of theology and ordination as a minister, a preliminary then thought almost essential to fitness for any collebe chair, he became Professor of Mathe- matics and Natural Philosophy in his alma mater in i8io, lecturing also in medical schools of the vicinity. In 1850, he became Professor of Chem- istry and Natural Philosophy in the University of Rochester, N. Y., and there he died in 1867. His botanical work was done outside of his profes- sional dnties, and he is known as a critical stndent of our grasses and sedges. He also did a part of the botanical work of the Natural History Survey of Massachusetts, preparing the Report on the herbaceons flower- ing plants of the state. New England claims a large interest in the brothers Boott, gentlemen of the old school in the best sense. Born in Boston of English parents, and Harvard graduates, their lives were spent apart. Dr. Francis Boott settled in London, and was for thirty- five years before his death, in 1863, one of its best known practitioners of medicine. He devoted himself with zeal to the elucidation of the great sedge-genus Carex, and the classic illustrations of its species published at his own expense are his best and most enduring monument. After he died, his brother, William Boott, a lifelong resident of Boston, by a sort of noblesse oblige, took up the study of the sedges and, though publishing lit- tle, became recognized as an authority second only to the elder brother. 1?he beautiful Connecticnt valley inspired and was made famous by the veork of one of those self-made men who, fortnnate in their inheritance and in their environment, have the genius to guide their development to the high- est results. After a youth of hard work without opportunity for regular college training, and after a service of AMOS EATON. BOTANY AND BOTANISTS IN NEW ENGLAND. 37 a few years as a country minister, Edward Hitchcock became, in 1821, Professor of Chemistry and Natural History in Amherst College. Here he served with singular disinterested- ness to the end of his life, in 1864. From 1845 to 1854 he was president of the college, returning to the ranks of the faculty when the emergency which had demanded this service was past. Pre~iminent as a geologist, he is per- haps best known for his work on the fossil footprints of the Connecticut val- ley sandstones. He published in 1829 a Catalogue of Plants growing within twenty miles of Amherst Col- lege, which may be regarded as the forerunner of the numerous similar lists since prepared for various regions. He was one of the first American writers to give more than perfunctory attention to the simpler fiowerless plants. His list of plants of the Liii- n~an class Cryptogamia, although it now seems meagre enough, shoxvs his knowledge of the whole field of botany to have been better than that of most botanists of the time. He also pre- pared the first Report on the Animals and Plants of Massachusetts, in addi- tion to one on the Geology of the state. When, after these first reports, the work of the Natural History Survey was divided among a number of specialists, Mr. George B. Emerson shared the botanical work with Pro- fessor Dewey of Williams College, taking the woody plants as his subject. Mr. Emerson was a native of Maine, a graduate of Harvard, and for over thirty years the principal of the best private school for girls in Boston. As a leading spirit in every attempt to give dignity to the teachers profession and to elevate the standard of fitness for its members, the whole country owes him a lasting debt. His interest in plants dates from his acquaintance with Dr. Cutlers paper in his early youth. To the preparation of his Report on the Trees and Shrubs growing naturally in the forests of Massachusetts he de- voted all his leisure for nine years. He personally explored the state from end to end, despising no source of information; and the result was a volume which must remain classic. It was published at Boston in 1846, and a beautiful second edition, with colored plates, followed in 1875. Mr. Emerson had a genuine love of the woods, and clearly saw the practical value to the state of their wise man- agement. At a time when, to the ordi- nary observer, the supply of timber seemed limitless, he wrote Now those old woods are everywhere falling. The axe has made, and is making, wanton and terrible havoc. The cunning foresight of the Yankee seems to desert him when he takes the axe in hand. The new settler clears in a year more acres than he can cultivate in ten, and destroys at a single hurning many a winters fuel, which would hetter he kept in reserve for his grand- children. If he felt constrained to speak thus fifty years ago, what would he say to-day, when the same reckless policy which he lamented has brought close home to us the problem of future wood supply, and when our stateliest and most important forests are fast fall- ing into the hands of men as soulless BY PERMISSION OF THE POPULAR 0010000 MONTHLY EDWARD HITCHCOCK. 38 BOTANY AND BOTANISTS IN NEW ENGLAND. as their steam saw-mills! It is to Mr. Emersons book that we owe the beau- tiful Bouvd collection of woods in the museum of the Boston Society of Nat- ural History; and it was largely through his personal influence that his father-in-law endowed the Arnold Arboretum at Jamaica Plain, now one of the foremost forestry establish- ments of the world, which is none the less his memorial that it does not bear his name. One of the most enthusiastic and promising of the New England bota- nists of two generations ago was Will- iam Gakes, of Ipswich. A graduate of Harvard in 1820, he became dis- gnsted with the law after admission to the bar, and thenceforward devoted himself to the study of New England plants. He visited every part of our territory and repeatedly explored the more interesting mountain regions, having planned an elaborate Flora, for which he accumulated an enormous mass of material. But his anxiety for perfection in his work delayed its com- pletion; and finally his death by drowning in 1848 lost to science his WILLIAM QARES. accurate and discriminating knowl- edge. It is related of Oakes that a woman who had watched him for half an hour on his knees near her house, searching for a rare moss, thought him crazy and, in the kindness of her heart, brought hini a slice of bread and butter. His friend and companion on many trips, Dr. Charles Pickering, was of Sa- lem ancestry, a grandson of Col. Timo- thy Pickering. He was graduated at the Harvard Medical School in 1826, and practised for several years in Phil- adelphia. In 1838 he sailed with the Wilkes Exploring Expedition to the South Pacific as one of its naturalists, giving especial attentioii to the geo- graphical distribution of plants and animals. On the return of the expedi- tion, he made a journey of several years in eastern countries for stndy. His chief works are one on geographi- cal distribution, published in part by the government, and a Chronological History of Plants, Mans Record of his own existence, a wonder of learning and of patience, covering 1222 closely printed quarto pages and tracing the migrations and transportations of plants as shown by existing historic records, from the beginning of the first great year of the Egyptian reckoning, with citations in the original lan- GEORGE B. EMERSON. BOTANY AND BOTANISTS IN NEW ENGLAND. gtiages. This work was in press at the time of his death in 1878. It has been said, and may well be believed, of Dr. Pickering, that love of knowledge was tbe one passion of his life. In 1833 Harvard College received by the will of Dr. Joshua Fisher, for many years Beverlys beloved physi- cian, an endowment to establish a Fisher professorship of Natural His- tory. After having been declined by Francis Boott and by George B. Emer- son, this chair was offered in 1842 to a very promising yonng man, the pupil and associate of Dr. John Torrey of New York, then the foremost Ameri- can systematist. This yonng man who was thirty-two years old and already under appointment to a chair in the nascent University of Michigan, accepted the call, and for forty-six years adorned his chair and the institu- tion of his adoption. The story of Asa Grays life needs not to be re- hearsed here. It has lately been made familiar by the delightfnl volnmes of his letters prepared by his wife. The history of his work is that of American systematic botany for nearly five decades. His text-books and man- uals, in various editions, his masterly nse of the unrivalled facilities afforded by his position and by the period of exploration and discovery in the great West over which his activity extended, ~nd his delightful personality, com- bined to give him a predminence never before accorded to an American bota- nist and, one may almost as safely say, never again to be enjoyed by any; while the universal verdict of his for- eign colleagues places him in the front rank of the botanists of the world. Though he first saw the light in cen- tral New York, he was of Massachn- ~etts stock, and, as all his best york was done there, the state may fairly claim him. His first book, published when he was but twenty-six years old, was the Elements of Botany, and his last, brought out shortly before his death, bears the same title. In 1842 appeared the Botanical Textbook, and in 1848 the first edition of the Manual of Botany. In the latter the Linmean key was used as an aid to rapid determination; but even this use of it was abandoned in later editions, and the plants were, from the first, arranged according to the natural system of De Candolle. This work determined the disappearance of tbe Linna~an system from American liter- ature. That Dr. Grays chef doeuvre, the Synoptic Flora of North Amer- ica ,in spite of many years of untiriug industry, was left very incomplete, can never cease to be a source of regret to all who profess any interest in the science beautiful. It is true that Dr. Gray limited himself, in his own work, to the external structure and classifica- tion of the flowering plants; but this field was a much larger part of botany in his youth than at present, and it will yet be long before it fails to afford scope for the exercise of the best abili- ties. Two names are closely associated with the work of Dr. Gray at Harvard, those of two natives of Connecticut and graduates of Yale. Charles Wright spent some years after his graduation in 1835 in the exploration CHARLES PICKERING. 40 BOTANY AND BOTANISTS IN NEW ENGLAND. of then almost un- known Texas; and the fruit of some of his work was one of Dr. Grays best known pa- pers, the Plant~ Wrightian~. He accompanied the North Pacific Ex- ploring Expedi- tion as botanist, in 18535, and spent most of the next twelve years in extensive and fruitful collecting in Cuba. Several years were then passed in research and assistance at the Gray herba- rium; and his last years till his death in 1885 xvere devoted tion of his native hills. Sereno Watsons love of botany did not assert itself for twenty years after his graduation in 1847. A varied and unsatisfactory experience during this time led him finally to accompany Kings exploring expedition in the western mountains from 1867 to 1871, devoting himself chiefly to the flower- ing plants of the country. The. result- ing volume on the Botany of Cali- fornia showed his grasp of his subject so clearly, and Dr. Gray had been so impressed by his ability during his work in Cani- bridge while preparing it, that he was offered the curatorship of the Gray herbarium in 1874. The earnest hope of botanists that he might be able, after the death of his chief, to complete the Synoptic Flora, on which they had worked for fourteen years together, was shattered by his untimely death only four years after. It would be unfair not to acknowl- edge the debt of our science to the beautiful plates which accompany some of Dr. Grays publications, as well as often more popular works, to the explora - from the pencil of Isaac Sprague. Combining the skill of the artist with the insight and accuracy of the naturalist, his work has set a high standard for his successors. Two names which here deserve mention as those of contributors of material for Grays Manual and criti- cal students of the pond-weeds and o t h e r flowering plants of our fresh waters are Dr. J. W. Robbins, J. L. RUSSELL. Yale, 21, a physi- cian of Uxbridge, Mass.,and Rev. Thomas i\Iorong, Am- herst, 48, who was settled over several Massachusetts parishes and late in life carried out a two years botanical ex- ploration in South America. His last years were spent as curator of the herbarium of Columbia College, in New York. Under the Linn~an system the flowerless plants were thrown together into a class codrdinate with each of the classes of flowering plants, and placed at the end of the list. This treatment was perhaps natural enough in view of the scanty knowledge of these forms then possessed; but it had the effect of making them regarded as of little con- sequence, and for a long time almost ignored. Up to 1840 their study in America had been fragmentary in the extreme. But with the advent of nat- ural classifications which first indi- cated something of the true place of the different cryptogamic groups in the vegetable kingdom as a whole, they began to attract the attention of lovers of plants. Perhaps our earliest student of the simpler aquatic plants included under the general name Algae was Jacob Whitman Bailey, a BOTANY AND BOTANISTS IN NEW ENGLAND. 41 native of Worcester County, Mass. A graduate of West Point, he soon became Professor of Chemistry, Min- eralogy and Geology there, and up to his early death in 1857, contributed much to the knowledge of his favorite plants. He remembered his New England origin by leaving his fine col- lection of microscopic preparations to the Boston Society of Natural History. The first systematic attempt at an account of American algai was left to an Irishman, Prof. William Henry Harvey, of Trinity College, Dublin. An enthusiastic collector and traveller, as well as a noted authority on these plants, he had already resided several years in South Africa, when, in 1849, he visited the United States to investigate its niarine flora, spending considerable time in New England. The result was a work issued in three parts during the fifties by the Smithsonian Institution the Nereis Boreali-Americana, which is still indispensable in the study of our seaweeds. A pioneer of much greater ability than his published work shows was a Unitarian clergyman of Massachu- setts, Rev. John Lewis Russell. A devoted lover of nature, his study was always a naturalists den, full of green things and beautiful. He was fond of giving popular instruction, whether by voice or by pen, and was a promi- nent botanical contributor to the New American Cyclopedia. For forty years, and till the close of his life in 1873, he was Professor of Botany and Vegetable Physiology to the Massa- chusetts Horticultural Society; and he left to it a bequest to endow an annual lecture on the relations of the fungi to horticulture, as though he foresaw the important discoveries since made and yet to be made concerning the etiology and preventive treatment of the numer- ous and destructive fungous diseases of our cultivated plants. His special studies upon the mosses and lichens were begun when very little was known of these plants in America, and it is to be regretted that his extensive knowledge of them was not preserved to us. It fairly characterizes him to say that if his personal ambition had been greater, he would have attracted more notice from the world. But a few years younger than Mr. Russell was the man to whom we owe our chief knowledge of the American lichens, Edward Tuckerman. A mem- ber of a well known Boston family, and a Harvard man by tradition, he was sent to Union College, where he was graduated in 1837. Ten years later he atoned for this break in the family record by taking the A. B., in course at Cambridge, having been earlier graduated from the Law School there, and later completing the course in the Divinity School. Mean- while he had studied in Europe and had learned from the father of system- atic lichenology, Elias Fries, of Up- sala, the traditions and methods of that study. As a young man he was an enthusiastic explorer, and the grand Tuckermans Ravine, on Mount Washington, perpetuates the memory of his energy. He was a profound student of history, and considered that his professional work, with botany as his recreation. Yet it is as a botanist SERENO WATSON. 42 BOTANY AND BOTANISTS IN NEW ENGLAND. that he is and will be best remembered. From 1854 to 1873, he was Lecturer in History in Amherst College, in whose shadow his home was made until his work was finished in i886. From 1858 until the end he was also Profes- sor of Botany there. The volumes he prepared will long remain the chief authority on our lichen-flora. He clung, to the last, to the belief of the older lichenologists in the autonomy of these plant-combinations, a view now superseded; but this detracts nothing from the value and critical insight of his systematic studies. His Catalogue of Plants growing within thirty miles of Amherst College was an elaboration and revision of Presi- dent Hitchcocks earlier one. For him, as for his predecessor, plants meant members of the veg table Ping- dom, and his list is as complete as possible in all groups. The list of F~/a/tgi was prepared by the shoemaker botanist of Brattleboro, Vt., Charles C. Frost, one of our earliest students of this group of plants, in whose study he rendered real service. Entirely self-taught, he gained command of several languages to fit himself for his studies, and was an interesting example of what persis- tence inspired by devotion can accom- plish. One of the earliest botanical ama- teurs in Rhode Island was Stephen T. Olney. Though engaged in business during most of his life, he found time for much botanizing. Indeed his fond- ness for this form of recreation gave currency to stories of mental derange- ment, which were seriously listened to by the learned court concerned in the settlement of his estate. So well is the love of nature appreciated by the gaz- ing crowd! After studies of the flow- ering plants in his earlier years, which resulted in the publication of his Cat- alogue of Rhode Island Plants, he became a careful investigator of the sea-weeds, a list of which, published a few years before his death in 1878, was entitled Algre Rhodiace~e. One whose residence among us dur- ing the last thirteen years of his life demands a place for him here is Thomas P. James. A wholesale drug- gist in Philadelphia until 1869, he then removed to Cambridge and devoted himself to the study of his favorite plants, the mosses. The chief result of his labors was the Manual of the Mosses of North America, left incom- plete at his death, and finished, as a labor of love, by his friend, Sereno Watson. The sthetic and scientific interest of the ferns has gained for them many appreciative students, one of the chief of whom was a son of New England. Daniel Cady Eaton was graduated at Yale in I857, and spent his life, just closed, in her service as Professor of Botany, his love for which was, doubt- less, a natural inheritance from his randfather, Amos Eaton. His elaboration of the account of the ferns for successive editions of Grays Manual, and various other publications, both technical and popu- Jar, concerning them have given him the first place among our authori- ties on this group. He has also done good service in the study of marine EDWARD TUCKERMAN. BOTANY AND BOTANISTS IN NEW ENGLAND. 43 alga~ and of the general flora of his vicinity. The Catalogue of flowering Plants and higher Cryptogams grow- ing within thirty miles of Yale Col- lege, issued by the Berzelius Society, shows everywhere the influence of his advice. Certain societies deserve mention here for their influence on the develop- ment of botany in New England. The New England Society for Promoting Natural History, formed in December, 1814, became, a month later, the Lin- n~ean Society of New England. From i8i8 till its dissolution in 1822, its meetings were very irregularly held; and then, for several years, the outlook was felt to be too disconraging to war- rant another attempt. ]3ut, in 1830, the Boston Society of Natural History was formed, and, in the next year, in- corporated. At that time there was no good mnsenm and no good teaching of natural history in New England. Through aid from the state and private gifts, the Societys fine building on the Back Bay was obtained, and gradually its splendid collections have been ac- cumulated. Its influence on teaching has been steady and important, and its publication fnnd has fnrnished the means for giving to the world many scientific memoirs of the greatest value. The Natural History Survey of Massachusetts, anthorized through its influence and made nnder its super- vision, was the first in the country and the model for subsequent similar undertakings. Its first active presi- dent, who served for seven years, was Dr. Benjamin D. Greene, of Tewks- bnry, a devoted amateur botanist, who, thongh publishing nothing, gave freely of his ample means to the society and otherwise for the promotion of science, and left to it his valuable library and herbarium. His snccessor for six years was George B. Emerson. The American Academy of Arts and Sciences has connted among its mem- bers onr ablest botanists, and its publi- cations contain much of the fruit of their labors. The Essex Connty Natural History DANIEL c. EATON. Society had for its first president Dr. Andrew Nichols. For three years before 1848, Rev. J. L. Russell stood at its head; and after its fusion with the Essex Historical Society, in that year, to form the Essex Institute, he served the last as vice-president for thirteen years. Several of his too brief papers are among its publications. As one glances over the list of those New Englanders who have added something to our knowledge of plants, he must be struck by the small num- ber of professional botanists it com- prises. It is safe to say that only three or four of all those above mentioned have derived their living principally from their botanical work. But we have seen that physicians, clergymen, general naturalists, chemists, teachers, men of bnsiness and of leisure have earned for themselves the name of bot- anist. Our first professional natu- ralist to devote himself exclusively to botany was Dr. Gray; and it has been only with the development of the newer theoretical and practical aspects of the science that such a career has become more generally possible. In the limits of a single article it will be impossible to give any detailed ac 44 LOVES CALENDAR. count of these modern points of view or of the work of living botanists. The activity of recent years is therefore very inadequately represented here. It will be seen that the work of those of New Englands botanists whose labors are ended has been that necessary in a new country, the work of exploration and description, opportunities for xvhich are still far from exhausted in our own continent. It is now a little more than thirty- five years since the dawn of the new botany with the publication of the Origin of Species, in whose great author we of English blood and lan- guage claim a peculiar interest. The new conceptions of development in accordance with determinable laws, of adaptations to determinable condi- tions, and of real blood-relationship between plant species and genera, which we owe to Darxvin and to whose ready appreciation by American bota- nists Dr. Gray contributed so much, gave, indeed, a new zest and a new interest to descriptive studies. But in opening up innumerable problems before unthought of, in leading to points of view before unreached, it made of the dead science of animals and the dry science of plants one quickening science of life. Since botany and zodlogy were thus brought together, the time has never been when any but a great genius could be master in both fields. Students of plants and animals have both contrib- uted to the solution of biological prob- lems; but it is increasingly true that one must be an animal biologist or a plant biologist. Most of the higher institutions of learning in New Eng- land now recognize the modern biol- og~, though some have very tardily done so. Yet of these none but Har- vard gives any adequate representation to the botanical aspects of the subject. The greatest service which can now be rendered to the cause of biological science in our midst is provision for teaching and research in the colleges on botanical lines, as it is already con- ducted by zodlogists. LOVES CALENDAR. By Abbie r~rweu Brown. IT is no spring, though skies be blue and tender, And soft the warm breath of a gentler air; Though scarfs of green veil all the birches slender, And flowers star the open everywhere; Though beauty breathe in every living thing, Unless thou lovest me there is no spring. It is no winter, though the sky may darken, And chilly death hide all the world in snow; No sounds of spring though all the soul may hearken, No message from the flowers tombed below; Though desolate the sky, the earth, the sea, There is no winter if thou lovest me! A5 SIR EDMUND ANDROS. By Mary L. Fay.* U N~YIL the most recent time, our A merican historians have united in branding Sir Edmund Andros as a heartless tyrant and a man almost devoid of honor or justice. They have accepted the reports of contemporaries, who either intentionally maligned him for selfish reasons, or else were led to misrepresent his character and his * A paper read before the Old Sooth Historical Society. The aothor is one of the Old Sooth prizc essayists for iS87. actions in their zeal for the government he was sent to supersede. Embittered and prejudiced by the downfall of their cherished svs tem, the Puritans of Massa- chusetts were blind to any good qualities in the royal governor who came to rear new institutions on the ruins of their independence. Yet a careful and im- partial study of the records of the time and of his deeds shows that Andros has been greatly misrepresented that he 46 SR SM TSR 555 SR.S~ SISTSRS SF SEW 55MM, 55 PERMIssIOS SE TEE 5*50555 SIR EDMUND ANDROS. 47 was really an upright and honorable man, a brave soldier and a wise commander, conscientious in his religious belief, un- swerving in his loyalty, faithful to his duty, possessing energy, unusual admin- istrative ability, eminently fitted in many ways for leadership. He was unfortunate in standing between the oppressive policy of the Stuarts and the determined inde- pendence of the Puritan colonies. The blame which has been cast upon him, such as it was, belongs to the king, whose orders he obeyed, and to officers who were not appointed by him, and for whose deeds he was not responsible. In order to understand the circum- stances which made Andross position so (lifficult, it is necessary to glance at the train of events in New England which led to the appointment of a governor- general. Boston being the capital of the new government, Andros came into closest contact with the people of Massachu- setts, and there he met with the most bitter opposition. The remoter colonies reflected the opinions of their stronger and more independent neighbor. The charter granted by Charles I. to the Massachusetts Bay Colony conveyed the lands therein specified to them, their heirs and assigns forever, to hold, sell, or dispose of as they chose. It declared that the emigrants and their descendants possessed all the rights of native subjects ~n taking the oath of supremacy and allegiance, and conferred on the com pany and its successors full executive and legislative powers not use(l repugnant to the laws of England. Armed with this patent, which they had obtained as a confirmation of the liberty that was their natural birthright, the Puritans left England. The growth of the new col- ony was rapid. The despotic policy of Charles 1. caused a constant tide of emigration to flow into it between 1630 and 1 ~ and it soon became the wealthiest and strongest of the north- ern colonies. But its rigid Puritan- ism and indelDendent government pro- voked the hostility of the crown, while its prosperity aroused envy The un- compromlsing policy of the colonial clergy, anxious to keep out all (loctrines contrary to their own, excluded all but members of the Puritan church from the right of suffrage, and thus gave rise toa disaffected and restless class within its borders. The charter, as the bulwark of its liberties, became the object of attack from the numerous enemies, at home and abroad, who tiesired the overthrow of the Massachusetts government, anti every means was used to induce the king to recall it. The attempts against the charter began in 1634, and from that time till sfi85 the colony was constantly assailed. The annexation of the settlements in New Hampshire and Maine, at the request of the inhabitants, added Mason anti Gorges, the dispossessed proprietors, to the long list of enemies, and involved Massachu- setts in endless disputes. huE ANDROS SEAL. BY HIS EXCELLENCY PROCLAMATION. W H ER LA S His Id. ~J ES T ~ hath been gractoefly pleafed, by Ills Royal Lether, bearing Date the focteenth day of Oaober laft pall, to fignifle That lie hash received u~idoubted Advice that a great and fudden invation from Holland, with an armed Force of Forreigners and Strangers, wilt fpcedity bc made in an hoflilc manner upon ItisMajef~a Kingdom of 13 ATG LAND; and that aitho fomcjsIfo prcrencea rctoting so Ls~erry5 Property, and Religion, (contrivcd. ot ~otdcd with Act aciul Subtilty) cinay be given our, (as fhatt be thought ufeful upon fuch an Attempt; ) It is antasifeft howeiror, (conficicring the great Preparaninas that are molting) That no 1e~ matter by this lnvaj7oaa is panpofed and purpofcd, than art nbfolure Conqireft of ilsa Mainlys Ksngdonaa, and the Utter Subduing and. Sub~e4hn~ WsMajeftV and. all [-Irs le3ple ic a Torreign Power, which is promoted (an lisa Majefty underfiands ) altivo il may fcem atmoli. incre- dible) by fame of His Majeltys Sabjolts, being peefons of wicked ansI relVtefn Spiritn~ irn~ilacableLhlluIice, ao4cte~7pe- ratet) efigna, who having no fence of former irsteftme Diftrs& ion.v, (the Memory and Mifery whereof Thosuldendear and pot a Value upon thaL Peace and llappinefa which bath long beets enjoyed.) nor being moved isy His Majeftys reiterated A& s of Grace snd Mercy, (wherein HinJifajofty hash Pudjid and delighted to abound towards all His ~ubjeds, and even towards ehofe who were once His Majoftya avowed ond open .Eornes) do again endeavour to embroil His Majcftyn t(isgdom in Blood and Ruin, en gratifie their own Ambition and Malice, propoling to tliemfelves a Prey and Booty in fach a pablick Conflilion: And that although liii Ivlajetty had Notice that a forrcign Paine was preparing againft I-tim, yet Ills Majelty hath aiwaics declined any forreign Succour, hat rather bath chofen (nextunder- GOD) to rely upon she true and ancient Courage, faith and Allegiance ol liii own People, with whom His Majelty bath often ventured His Life for she Honour of His Natioli, sad in whofe Defence agaiscit all Enemies I-tin Majefty is dimly refol yell eo live and dye; and therefore does folemaly Conjare His Subjeds to lay slide all manner of Animolitien, Jealoulien, & Prejadreen, and heartily & chearfally so Vniie togoiber in the Defence of His 41 A ~E S 7 r and their native Countrey, which thing alone, will (under GOD ) defeat and frsftrate she principal I-lope and De- taming the Proteltast iteligion,. or fignof His Itlajeftys Enemies, who expe& to find His People dirided and by pablilbing ( perhaps) fame plans.- fcbleReafons of their Coining, as the fpecious (tho falfe) Pretences of Main Afferting she Liberties and Properties of I-fin Majeftys People, do hope thereby to conquer that great and cc powncd Kingdom. That albeit the Deligan hash been carried on with all imugiesbic Seerolie & Endeavours to Ciarprife and deceire. Itia MA 7E S 13 1., lIE bath not been wanting on i-tin part so make fads p~onilIon an did become Ilhsri, and, by GODs great Helting, His Majelty makes no doubt of being found in (a goad a Pollute that His Enemies may havE caufe so repent furls sheir rails and mliii Atitmpt. ALL WHICH, it in His Majellys ore, fhoalci be nude knawn in she mall publick manner to His loving Sabjeds within shin His Territory sad Dominion of N W- A G L A fit D, that they may be the better prepared to refill any Attempts that may be made by His Majeflies Enemies in theft parts, and fecisred in their trade and Commerce with His Majellys Kingdom of England. Do therefore, in porfisance of I-fin MA 7 S 132s Commands, by thefe Prefents ma& p known and PualIi~ii the fame accordingly : And hereby Charge and Command all Olllcero. Civil & Military, and all other His Majeftyn loving SubjeCts within this His lerritory and Dominion aforelaid, to be Vigilis.o and Cau-efa5 in their refpedive places and flatioss, and that, upon the Approfch of any Illeet or Porreiga force, they be in P~eadinefs, and ufe their utmoft Endeavour to hinder any Landing or Inyniflon that may be intended to be made within the fame. Given at Fort-Ck,tleS at Pemotqsi/, the Tenth Day of Janaary~ is the Fourth year of tine Reign of one Sovereign Lord 7 A ME S the Second, of England, Scotland, France said ireland K I t~f C. Do.- fender of tine yaish ut-c. Annaq D O~MI.NI s6 B8. Sy HI: EXCELLENCYn Coismand. E D~O S 70HN WJiST. if. Secr t~.lNLX. GOD SAVE THE KING. Printed at Pofton in Nes.Englaad lay R. P. A REDUCLI) FACS5M5LI 05 X PROC.) V~I IRON 5~SI LI) LX XNDRLS WHILE IN HAIRs-I IN s688. 48 SIR EDMUND ANDROS. 49 During the long struggle between the king and Parliament, the colonies were left to themselves. This was their season of growth. They assumed, of necessity, greater powers of. self-government, and found that they were perfectly capable of governing themselves without any as- sistance from England. Massachusetts made laws as the need arose, coined money in the utter dearth of a medium of trade, and carried on an extensive commerce with European countries and the West Indies, exporting home products anl the products of the other colonies in ships built at home and manned by her own sailors. Unusual favor was shown the Puritan colonies while Cromwell xvas in power. He refused to listen to their enemies, and approved of the exile of Baptists and Quakers from Massachusetts. The Acts of Navigation and Trade, ~passed at his in- stigation to regulate and restrict the colo- nial commerce for the benefit of Eng- laud, were not enforced in New England during the Protectorate, an advantage which aroused the jealousy of the less- favored colonies, and especially of the London merchants, a powerful class whose influence was steadily increasing, and who xvere thus added to the enemies of Massachusetts. With the restoration began again the struggle for the preservation of the char- ter rights, to xvhich Charles II. was an avowed foe. He was determined to crush out all independence in the colonies and reduce them to unquestioning obe- dience to the crown. A new policy was adopted. A council under the name of the Lords Commissioners of Trade and Plantations was appointed to take charge of colonial affairs, and a system of unre- mitting oversight was inaugurated. Mas- sachusetts was especially obnoxious, and measures were at once taken to bring her into subjection. Orders were sent to the governor and the General Court, requiring the oath of allegiance to be ad- ministered, all legal proceedings to run in the kings name, and the laws prohibit- ing the Episcopal form of worship and restricting the right of suffrage to church members to be repealed. The people found these demands an infringement of their liberties. They concluded to obey the first two and say nothing about the others. But the xveapons of protraction and invasion, which had been so service- able in dealing with Charles I., were of little use with his son. A commission was sent over, early in 1664, to regulate the government, discover how far the kings commands had been obeyed, and enforce obedience, to hear all complaints relating to titles, ecclesiastical discipline or undue assumption of power by the rul- ers, and to administer justice at their own discretion, even if opposed to the laws of the colony. Men invested with such arbitrary powers would have been danger- ous indeed to the welfare of the colony, had they been fitted to carry out Charless intentions. Fortunately for New Eng- land, they xvere not. Colonel Nicolls, xvhose presence was necessary for the de- cision of any measure, was at Manhadoes the greater part of the time. The other three, who were personally obnoxious to the people, were steadily thwarted in their attempts to stir up sedition and in- terfere with the government. After months were idled away they departed, leaving the people thoroughly exasperated hy their encroachments and determined to resist every attempt to curtail their liberty. But although rid of her unwelcome guests, the colony did not settle back into her old peace which had vanished when Charles II. ascended the throne. The war with King Philip broke out, and drained New England of wealth and strength. It bore hardest on Massachusetts, and left her exhausted and impoverished. Never had there been a time of more general depression. The distress was widespread. A number of towns were utterly destroyed, others so devastated that it was long before they regained their prosperity. The crops were ruined, the cattle were killed, and there xvas hardly a family that was not in mourning. In the midst of the gloom, the attacks on the charter were .renewed. The English mer- chants were complaining of the injury done to their commerce by the freedom of the colonial trade, and urging a more vigorous enforcement of the Acts of Navi- gation and Trade. Coming from so 50 SIR EDMUND ANDROS. influential a quarter, these complaints gained the ear of the king, and in addition to the acts already existing, restricting colonial commerce, another and a severer act was passed forbidding the importation into the colonies of any European com- modities not laden in England. This would destroy the ship-building and other industries connected with it, a principal source of wealth to Massachusetts, and give England a monopoly of trade. Edward Randolph, kinsman of Mason, was commissioned to enforce these meas- ures, and also to discover the sentiments of the inhabitants of Maine and New Hampshire, as well as in the Massachu- setts colony itself, toward the Massachu- setts government, and to collect all the information possible prejudicial to the government. The Lords of Trade were ready to undertake the work of crushing the local governments, and he was only too glad to furnish them with all the material he could accumulate The first step was to recall the char- ters. Randolph bent all his energies to aid in this task. For the next twenty years he was the untiring persecutor of Massachusetts. His first official visit lasted six weeks. Every moment was used in collecting evidence against the colony, fomenting discord and stirring up intrigues against the government. He was the bearer of disagreeable messages, and he took a savage delight in making them as unpalatable as possible. Doyle says of him that he was one of those men xvho, once enlisted as partisans, lose every other feeling in the passion which is engendered of strife. He had a ca- pacity for bringing together the facts which would further his object in so effective a way that his statements carried conviction and baffled denial. His pen was never idle. Letter after letter full 01 the grossest misrepresentations was sent to work mischief in England, while the writer busied himself in increasing the minority of disaffected men which he soon discovered to exist in the colony. Almost all the intrigues and disputes which resulted in the downfall of the charter can be traced to his work in those six weeks. He sowed; Andros reaped a harvest of thorns. Randolphs promotion to the office of collector of customs in Boston gave him larger opportunities of thwarting the magistrates in their efforts to preserve the Puritan theocracy. For the next fourteen years his malicious spirit was never idle. He went back and forth between England and the colonies, the evil genius of New England xvherever he was. In 1679, as a consequence of his efforts to overthrow the theocracy, im- perative orders were sent to the rulers of Massachusetts to extend freedom of wor- ship and equal civil rights to all except Papists, and enjoining a strict observance of the clause of the charter which re- quired eighteen assistants in the General Court. It was hoped that the result of these commands would be to weaken the patriotic party and strengthen the opposi- tion. Matters were now rapidly approach- ing a crisis. Hitherto the patriots had felt that in the defence of their liberties they could count on the sympathy of the English commoners, and that that would be a check on the kings tyranny. But it was a forlorn hope. Charles xvas de- termined to assert the divine right of kings and to govern without responsibil- ity to a Parliament. He began a war on the charters of towns and corporations. Charter after charter xvas annulled by the corrupt courts of justice. The colo- nies were not forgotten. Charles was resolved to be an absolute monarch in all his dominions. Massachusetts instructed her agents to yield none of her charter rights. The king was determined to abolish those rights. The perplexed agents warned the leaders that unless they yielded in some points they would lose all. The General Court deliberated long on their letters. Opinion was divided; a large part were in favor of yielding, but there were still enough members with the Puritan sturdiness to carry the point, with the influence of the clergy on their side. This decision ended the agents work. When it was made known in England, a quo warranfo was issued against the charter. One more chance was given Massachusetts to humble herself before the king. Governor Brad- street and the majority of the assistants passed a vote to submit, but it was re SIR EDMUND ANDROS. 51 jected by the deputies, who chose to abide by their former decision, and in June, 1684, the charter was annulled by a decree in chancery, and with it per- ished the Puritan Commonwealth in Mas- sachusetts. The annulment of the charter, the bulwark on which they relied for the pro- tection of their rights and which they had struggled so valiantly to keep, was a crushing blow to the people. If a kings solemn pledge could be recalled, on what could they rely? They were left at the mercy of a despotic monarch. In one decree of a distant court, their title to the country, even the titles of individuals to land and houses, were swept away with the patent which conferred them. Charles II. showed how much tenderness the colony might expect at his hands by his nomination as his viceroy of the infa- ruous Colonel Kirke, whose bloodthirsty course in Tangiers had won him so no- torious a reputation. The sudden death of the king and the accession of James II., followed by Monmouths insurrection, interfered with his coming; he proved so necessary to James in his terrible punish- ment of the rebels that he could not be spared for New England. Until the new monarch had leisure to attend to colonial affairs, a temporary government was erected, consisting of a president and a council of eighteen mem- bers. There was no provision for a leg- islature. Joseph Dudley, a clever, self- seeking politician, was appointed presi- Gent, through Randolphs influence, as a man who would be a subservient tool in carrying out the arbitrary designs of the crown. At the same time it was hoped that the people xvould be conciliated by the choice of one of their countrymen, and the way smoothed for harsher meas- uies. Dudley, however, had made him- self obnoxious both to the patriotic party and many of the moderate party. He had shown, while agent for the colony at a time when the unselfish devotion of her sons was most needed, that he cared less for her welfare than for his own advance- ment. On his arrival in Boston he pre- sented his commission to the General Court. It was addressed to some of the principal gentlemen of the colony, instead of the Governor and Company of Massachusetts Bay, as official docu- ments had always been directed, thus emphasizing the complete overthrow of the former government. A protest was drawn up, which declared the powers granted in it to the president and his council too arbitrary, both in the mat- ters of legislature and in the laying of taxes, and appealed to Dudley to re- fuse a commission which so grossly in- fringed the liberties of his countrymen. But he was too ambitious to heed their appeal. The people were alarmed by the ab- sence of provision for popular represen- tation in the government; and a remark of Dudleys, that the people in the colony must not suppose that the rights of Englishmen would follow them to the ends of the earth, showed his disposition toward them. Fortunately his power was of short duration. Had his office been permanent, he would have been an arbitrary and oppressive governor. The presidency lasted only six months, and he made no efforts to organize a government that would be so soon set aside. Except that no General Court met, the former government remained unchanged. But a general listlessness and uncertainty per- vaded all its branches. Everything was unsettled. No one knew how soon new and harsher measures would be taken. They knew of the brutalities committed by Stuart orders in Scotland during the preceding ten years, and of the horrors perpetrated in England by Jeffries and Kirke. These things might happen within their borders xvhile a Stuart was on the throne. Although intended to pave the way for the imposition of a stricter gov- ernment, Dudleys appointment only served to keep the country in a dis- contented and restless condition and roused a stronger opposition to the crown. Had the royal governor been sent out at once, and a defined and firm rule es- tablished, he would have been spared much trouble and had an easier task than Sir Edmund Andros found awaiting him on his arrival in Boston, in Decem- her, i686, with a commission from the king appointing him governor-general of 52 SIR EDMUND ANDROS. all New England. The news of a settled government was received with relief. Anything was better than the gloom and depression into which the colony had been plunged for the past two years. Sir Edmund Andros was no stranger to the people of New England. He had spent the greater part of the preceding twenty years in America. His family was noted for its devotion to the house of Stuart, awl his own loyalty to his suc- cessive sovereigns was one of the promi- nent features of his character. He began his career in the army of Prince Henry of Nassau. At the restoration, he entered the service of the kings aunt, the Queen of Bohemia, where he acquired the ac- complishments of a courtier and saw royalty in its most favorable aspect. His marriage with the sister of the Earl of Craven, the queens chief adviser, is a proof of the favor in which the young cavalier was held at her court. It was probably through the Earls influence that, in r666, he was made major of a regiment of foot-soldiers and sent to America, where he distinguished him- self by his bravery and skill. He was promoted to the command of the forces in Barbadoes, and soon won the reputa- tion of being skilled in American affairs. When the province of New Netherlands, which had been granted to the Duke of York, was restored to the Duke by the Dutch, he appointed Andros lieutenant and governor, an exceedingly difficult position to fill. The I)utch settlers had been forced to surrender to the English commander, Colonel Nicolls, in 1664. The province was re-named New York, in honor of its new proprietor, and Nicolls was made governor. He established an autocratic government, which his suc- cessor, Lovelace, continued. The suc- cess of the Dutch fleet in 1673 en- couraged the settlers to rise against their tyrannical ruler and return to their old government. Their triumph was short-lived, and the English power was reinstated in the province, this time too firmly to be shaken. But they chafed under the foreign yoke, and it was only by the greatest xvisdom and tact that Andros brought order out of the disturbed conditions he found on his arrival. The kings instructions left the gov- ernor to use his own discretion in ad- ministering the government. James re- garded his provinces as sources of income. He demanded that the governors whoa-i he appointed should supply him with large revenues. The welfare of the peo- ple was of trifling importance. Fortu- nately for them, and in spite of all that has been said to the contrary, Andros was a more public-spirited and liberal- minded man. During the six years he was governor of New York he labored unxveariedly for the peoples good. A recent historian of New York says with justice His administration forms a memorable epoch in the colonial history of New York. . . . A careful scrutiny of the manuscript records in Albany shows that of all the New York governors before and after the Revolution, not one has taken such a purely personal supervision of everything that looked to the improve- ment of the city as Governor Andros. He may justly be considered the most able and enlightened of New Yorks colonial governors. * When he took up his residence in New York in 1674, the town was in a ruinous condition. The fort was falling to decay, the guns were useless, the pub- lic buildings sadly in need of repair, every department of municipal and colo- nial government neglected. He at once set himself vigorously at work to reform abuses and improve the town. Its de- fences were carefully strengthened, the fort was repaired, the harbor was enlarged, new wharves were built, substantial pub- lic buildings erected, owners of vacant lots obliged to improve them on penalty of having them sold at public auction. A market house was built, and market days and fairs were established; and the poor laws were so effectively carried out that in two years there were no beggars to be found. The public records had hitherto been carelessly kept in the secretarys house. Andros had them carefully arranged and removed to the town-hall. He organized a well-drilled militia, improved the sanitary regulations, established stringent laws against drunk- * Quoted from the Memorial History of New York, Mr. Stones chapter on Andros, which gives a very interesting account of his administration. SIR EDMUND ANDROS. 53 enness and to regulate public morals. To all these reforms he gave his personal supervision. He foresaw the future coin- mercial importance of New York, and especially directed his attention to further- ing the commerce of the colony. He encouraged intercolonial trade and regu- lated the exports and imports of the colony for its best interests. In all his reforms he was so thorough and so far ahead of his time that his successors could make no improvement on his work. Far from being a tyrant, one of his earliest acts was to second the petition of the people to the Duke of York for an Assembly. He recognized the justice of their demand, and used all his influence to persuade the Duke to grant it. But James had the Stuart hatred of popular assemblies and, with his usual narroxv- mindedness, declared himself unable to see any necessity for them and in. isted that they would be destructive to the government. Still Andros did not give up his efforts to open Jamess eyes in this matter. When he visited England in 1677, he strongly urged upon both the king and his brother the advisability of yielding to the peoples desire. But al- though he was received favorably at court and knighted in reward for his good ser- vice, his advice was ignored. He has been accused by historians, and the people accused him at the time, of influencing his master to refuse an Assembly. He could not grant one against the Dukes commands; and be- cause he was made the instrument to de- clare Jamess tyrannical will, the people most unjustly flung the blame upon the man who had spared no pains to aid them, instead of looking to the source of the injustice done them and putting the censure xvhere it was deserved. Andross sympathy with their cause presents a favorable contrast to the intolerance of the majority of the royal governors of his own and later times. Lord Berkeley, the governor of Virginia, openly rejoiced on hearing that James had refused to grant the petition, and thanked God there were neither free schools nor print- ing presses in his colony. Throughout his administration, Andros was continually hampered in his efforts for the good of the colony by the Dukes incessant demands for larger revenues. His letters were full of complaints of the small returns he received from the prov- ince. In obedience to his commands, the governor was obliged to enforce the revenue laws stringently, thereby arousing the antagonism of English and Dutch traders, on whom they bore hard and xvho became anxious for his removal from office. Their accusations and the com- plaints of Carteret, governor of New Jersey, with whom Andros had come into collision in obeying the Dukes orders, influenced James to recall him. The discontented merchants represented that under another governor the province would yield larger revenues, and James, eager for larger revenues, followed their suggestions. In i68o Andros was ordered to return to England to answer the charges against him. He hastened to England and laid a report of his adminis- tration before the king, the Duke of York and the council, and indignantly re- futed the accusations which had been made against him. He came out of the examination wholly cleared and xvith praise for his administration. He re- mained in England for the next five years and enjoyed undiminished favor at court. When, in 1685, James II. found leisure to regulate the government of New England, he showed his confidence in Sir Edmund by appointing him gov- ernor-general of all the New England colonies, which were included in one royal province. This was the most im- portant post on the continent and the most difficult for a royal governor to fill. As governor of New York, Andros had been forced into disputes with the rulers of Massachusetts and Connecticut, whose prejudices had blinded them to his friend- ly attitude toward them. It was owing to his efforts that the Five Nations did not join King Philip in his war against them. He was anxious to help New England, but his offers were rejected, and his exertions were rewarded by ac- cusations of furnishing the Indians with arms and ammunition with which to carry on the war. This was a base cal- umny; for besides keeping hia Indian allies from joining the hostile Indians, SIR EDAIUATD ANDROS. the records show that among his earliest reforms were laws strictly forbidding any one to supply powder or arms to the Indians. Andros was unfortunate in coming to Massachusetts at a period of transition, when no man in his position would have been welcome. A writer of the last century well says: At the time Andros was governor of New England, the peo- ple xvere zealous republicans and bigoted independents, having banished those of other religions. Among such people it must have been difficult for a gentleman of Andross education and principles both in religion and politics to please them. His office was far more diffi- cult than that of his successors, for the English Revolution of ~688 taught the later monarchs a lesson which kept them from imitating the oppressive policy of the Stuarts. Smarting under the loss of their char- ter, the people blamed the royal gov- ernor for the wrongs they suffered, un- able to see or to remember that he was in no wise responsible for the downfall of their self-government, toward which events had been tending for fifty years. It is certainly no evidence of tyranny on his part that his view of the royal authority was diametrically opposite to theirs. Neither did his acceptance of the position nor his obedience to the kings commands evidence any unfriend- liness to the colony. Had he been given che opportunity, he would have proved himself as eager for the xvelfare of the people as he had been in New York. On taking possession of the government, he declared his desire to promote the pub- lic good. He organized the govern- ment according to the provisions of his commission, which vested all the power in the governor and a council. The ex- tent of the powers thus conferred, as well as the absence of any provision for an Assembly, alarmed the people. They drew up a petition to the king to grant an Assembly, but it was unsuccessful. Andros was not responsible for its fail- ure. He believed in giving the people the privilege of popular representation, but be had learned the uselessness of ad- vising James to adopt such a policy. Andros has been repeatedly accused of exceeding the powers conferred on him by his commission; but in truth he was far from using them to their full extent. He was instructed to tolerate no printing press; he had the power to lay taxes at his own discretion with the consent of a majority of the council, and to make laws and appoint judges and other officers at will. But he made no attempt to suppress the printing press; he levied no higher taxes than had been levied un- der the colonial government, except when the Indian wars made it necessary, and then he allowed the towns to choose their own assessors. Save that no General Court was held, the government remained very much the same. The old laws re- mained in force; many of the former officers were retained. The most zeal- ous partisans resigned their offices; but it is improbable that Andros turned any honest man out of office. The charge brought against him of altering the old forms of government resolves itself largely into the introduc- tion of the form of oath in use in Eng- land, swearing on the Bible, which tcm the Puritans was an idolatrous custom, for which they had substituted lifting the hand. Their refusal to observe the English custom seemed to the governor an excuse to disobey a reasonable com- mand. It was one of the many cases in which each party looked at the matter from an entirely different standpoint. The question of quitrents was another instance. The king and his ministers held that, with the annulment of the charter, the territory of Massachusetts reverted to the crown. It became a question of asserting the prerogative of the king and forcing Massachusetts to acknowledge her dependence on the crown; consequently, it was eagerly pressed by James, whose ruling desire was to bring all his dominions under his absolute control. Andros believed in the principle, as did the other adherents of the Stuarts ; but he is no more to beblamed than the lawyers and judges who gave their verdicts accordingly. To test the principle, it was announced that all titles to lands were null and void; that the right of purchase from the mdi- SIR EDMUND ANDROS. 55 ans, xvhich the colonists asserted secured their titles to their property, was worth- less; but, by petitioning for new patents, their titles would be confirmed on reason- able terms. Naturally, the people were bitterly opposed to the measure. To ap- ply for new titles would he yielding a prin- ciple dearer than life to them. Increase iViather was sent to lay their grievances before the king ; but his mission was in vain. Andros was not acting in opposi- tion to the royal will. In the end, many yielded to the pressure and applied for quitrents. Writs of intrusion were passed upon a few persons who refused to peti- tion for patents, in order to assert the kings right; but they were only brought against the most prominent men, who were well able to contest the point, not against poor people. The more impor- tant the position of the contestant, the more emphatically would his defeat es- tablish the right of the crown. It has been complained that exorbitant fees were extorted for quitrents, and that An- dros benefited by them; but it must be remembered that the table of fees was fixed by the council, that they varied with the values of estates, and were not in Andross hands. If West and Ran- dolph were dishonest and exceeded their lawful rates, Andros was no gainer, and was not responsible for their deeds. It cannot, I think, be proved that he was guilty of wilful oppression or injustice in this or any instance during his governor- ship in New England. He was simply the executor of the Stuart policy. What appeared grievously unjust and tyrannical to the Puritan colonists would seem per- fectly just and legal to the English officer and courtier. One of the greatest grievances which the loss of the charter entailed upon the people was the removal of the power of taxation from the town-meetings, in which it had been lodged for fifty years, to the governor and his council. It was not the amount of taxes they were re- quired to pay at which the people re- belled; it was the principle of taxation without representation. The country towns which preserved more of the un- compromising spirit of the Puritan founders than the commercial towns, where it was weakened by the increasing influences of the moderate party, were most determined in their opposition. The people of Ipswich, led by their pastor, protested against the injustice of taxing them without their consent, and refused to pay taxes until they had pe- titioned the king for redress. Summary measures were necessary to prevent the spread of rebellion. The leaders of the movement were arrested, tried and fined. The judges who pronounced the sen- tence acted independently of Andros and were the condemned mens own country- men. In rebelling against the kings au- thority as represented by his governor, these men had laid themselves open to the charge of treason, and set an exam- ple which, if unpunished, would be speedily followed. Andros was obliged to levy taxes for the support of the gov- ernment, and to insist on their being paid; and to prevent all the towns from imitating the example of Ipswich, he had no alternative but to punish those who defied his authority. Had the conditions in Massachusetts been what they were in New York, An- dros would undoubtedly have proved himself as efficient in promoting the wel- fare of the one colony as he had been in his government of the other. But he came to a people who had governed themselves for fifty years; who had a well-organized government, and resented any attempt at interference. He was able to effect but few reforms, but those are worthy of notice. He introduced the forms used in proving wills in the English spiritual courts into the probate courts here, where the methods had been very unsettled, and they continued in use to the time of the Revolution. He also caused the public records, which were scattered through the colony, to be brought to Boston and carefully arranged in a suitable place. The movement awakened much opposition, as in many cases it necessitated long journeys to Boston to consult deeds or records; but we owe the preservation of the records to the care and foresight of our first royal governor. One of his early acts was to make a. tour through the country which had been~ 543 SIR EDMUND ANDROS. placed under his authority. He first visited Rhode Island and Connecticut to demand their charters. Rhode Island surrendered her patent, and acknowl- edged his authority without any opposi- tion. As Mr. Lodge says, under Andros she sank into a new and complete quiet. His government was so far from being felt to be oppressive in Rhode Island, that the revolt which caused its overthrow xvas unwelcome to the people of that colony. But Connecticut followed the example of Massachusetts and refused to yield her charter. Andross attempt to retain it has been repeatedly cited as a con- vincing proof of his tyranny. But he was obliged to carry out the orders of the king, who had sent him to New England for that purpose. He was not responsible for the views of his master, who had unquestionably been prejudiced against the colony by the malicious misrepresentations of Randolph, who had made war upon the charters of Connecticut and Rhode Island, and had succeeded in obtaining writs of quo warranto against them. Ran- dolphs insulting and aggressive behav- ior hardened the Connecticut authori- ties into a more determined opposition and made Andross task more difficult. On reaching Hartford, the royal governor met the former governor and council of the colony, and laid his orders before them. They pretended to yield, and tradition tells although it is a very questionable tradition how the charter was brought out, and how, by a skilful trick, it was abstracted from the room and safely hidden in the famous Charter Oak. But, for the time, the effect upon the colony was the same as if it had yielded. The colonial records were closed, and Andros took formal posses- sion of the government. But in spite of her sturdy resistance to his authority, Andros did not interfere with the liberties of the colony, nor attempt to revenge himself upon her by a tyrannical exercise of his power, as would have been apt to be the case had he been the tyrant he has been pictured. From Connecticut he proceeded north- ward, and journeyed through the settle- ments of Maine and New Hampshire, which suffered from constant attacks from the Indians. He established friendly relations with the sachems, and influenced them to call their warriors home and live quietly. He garrisoned the fort at Pem- aquid, and left the country at peace when he returned to Boston. There he found new honors awaiting him. It was Jamess design ultimately to consolidate all the local governments of America under one governor. As a step toward the accomplishment of this plan, New York and New Jersey were added to Andross government. The first few months of i688 the governor spent in Boston, arranging necessary details of ad- ministrations. Then he again travelled through the colonies, including New York and New Jersey, ascended the Hudson to hold a conference with the chiefs of the Five Nations, with xvhoin he renewed the alliance he made with them while gov- ernor of New Ybrk, and attached them still more strongly to the English. The outbreak of Indian hostilities again in Maine and New Hampshire, largely caused by aggressive acts of the English traders, put a sudden end to his journey. He hurried back to raise troops for the relief of the distressed settlements, and took command himself. It was in No- vember, and bitterly cold, the ground covered with snoxv. The soldiers suffered much from cold and hunger during the long march through the forests. Their commander was bitterly reproached for undertaking the expedition; but even his enemies had to admit that he bore his full share of hardship. He remained in the north until spring, and taught the In- dians such a wholesome fear of him that they did not dare to molest the settle- rnent again while he was governor. His downfall was the precursor of one of the most terrible Indian wars that had ever swept over New England. He was busily engaged in building forts and making careful provisions for the safety of the settlers after his departure when reports reachc I him of the designs of William of Orange on England. He issued a proc- lamation from Pemaquid, urging the kings subjects to remain loyal to him and be ready to protect their coasts from S[R EDMUND ANDROS. 57 invaision, and hurried back to Boston, leaving the forts well garrisoned and Lieutenant- Governor Brockholst in com- mand. He found Boston full of excitement. The merchants were in communication with Holland and England, and were fully informed of Williams movements, while Mather wrote from London to pre- pare the patriots for the expected change. He hoped the downfall of the Stuarts xvould bring about the restoration of the charter. The people were agitated by these hopes and by various false rumors which were circulated by Andros s enemies. The news of the Princes landing on the English coast and a copy of his proc- lamation were brought to Boston from Barbadoes by John Winslow. Fearing the effect of the news on the excited people, Andros required Winslow to sur- render his papers. He refused, and was committed to prison until the excite- ment should be quieted. But in spite of this precaution, the tidings spread through the colony. The leaders waited until they could rely on the ultimate success of the Prince; then, on April i8, there was a great uprising of the people, totally unexpected by the governor or his officers. They were imprisoned, the fort and the English frigate in the harbor were cap- tured and the last colonial magistrates were reinstated. The revolt was so skil- fully conducted that the names of the leaders never transpired. Contrary to their expectations, William showed him- self so decidedly opposed to popular inde- pendence that it would have been danger- ous to divulge the secret. As soon as William ascended the throne, he issued letters to the colonies commanding that their governments should remain unchanged until further orders. Mather managed to prevent a letter being sent to Massachusetts. Had it reached the colony, the plans of the leaders would have been overthrown and Andros would probably have remained in office under the new king. A General Court was convened, which met in May and reorganized the old charter government. The magistrates of 1685 resumed their functions; but their authority was weak. Andros and his officers were detained in prison, and their long confinement caused much discontent among a large proportion of the inhabi- tants. The garrisons in Maine and New Hampshire were recalled; and this was the signal for the recommencement of the Indians attacks and the descent of pirates upon the Maine coast. It is stated in a letter written in 1689 that the imprudent act caused the loss of several thousand lives and the destruction for the time of the fisheries and the lumber trade. The petitions of the prisoners which they contrived to send to the king and of the Episcopalians and many others of the wealthy and influential class, as well as of the inhabitants of Maine who had good cause to regret Andross overthrow, aroused the king in his behalf. An order was sent July 30 for the rendi- tion of those still in prison, which, how- ever, did not reach Boston till the end of the year. The prisoners were sent to England in February, i 690, after an im- prisonment of ten months without a trial, surely as tyrannical a proceeding as any of which the tyrant himself was guilty. Two agents went with them to England to plead for the colony. A long list of charges, largely made up of idle rumors and very trivial tales, was laid before the council at the trial; but the accuserswere unable to support their charges, and the prisoners were acquitted. Andros issued from this trial, as he had from the last, completely cleared. His report of his administration, which he presented to the council, is straightforward and clear, and in the absence of extravagant abuse of his enemies, affords a refreshing con- trast to their reports and letters. Al- though just released from a long and un- just imprisonment, he abstains from any reflections upon them, except in the case of their imprudent recall of the troops from Maine ; he merely states the facts of his seizure and confinement in simple and moderate language. One secret of Williams success was his ability to recognize worth xvherever it existed. Andross loyalty to James, which was brought against him as a crime by 58 SIR EDMUND ANDROS. the colony, only recommended him the more to the king; and, as a mark of the royal trust and favor he was appointed governor of Virginia and Maryland in 1692, a more lucrative post than the governorship of New York and New England together. He found Virginia suffering from the effects of the European war. Her com- merce was interrupted; she was deprived of a market for her only staple, tobacco; all classes shared in the general depres- sion. Andros applied himself vigorously to the improvement of the condition of the colony. He directed his attention to the encouragement of manufactures and of the cultivation of cotton; he put finan- cial matters on a firmer basis; and in a short time the colony was in a prosperous and peaceful condition. He was deeply interested in the progress of XVilliam and Mary College, and recommended its en- couragement to the Assembly. He gov- erned so well that there is little material for history. No complaints were made nor grievances felt. By his interest in the public welfare, he won the peoples esteem, and would have done much more for them had he not become involved in a quarrel with the commissary, Dr. Blair, who was the head of the Virginia church and of the college. Blair was a controversial Scotchman, who spent his life in opposing the royal governors. Andros was recalled, owing to the influ- ence of the Bishop of London, who es- poused his commissarys cause; but on his return to England, the king showed his undiminished confidence in him by conferring the governorship of Guern- sey upon him. He also succeeded his father as bailiff of the island, an of- fice which he held for the rest of his life. He died in 1713, at the age of seventy- six. In reviewing Andross long life, one is struck by the amount and variety of the work he accomplished and by the cen- sures he received. He served four mon- archs in succession, and enjoyed the favor of all of them; yet he was not a man who spent his time at court, soliciting offices, not even his enemies accused him of that. Governor at different times of every royal province on the mainland of America, he exercised a larger influ- ence than any other of the royal governors. He was the first to perceive the immense importance of winning the alliance of the powerful Five Nations; and it was due to his diplomacy and energy that their friendship was secured to the Eng- lish. He was recalled from each govern- ment to which he was appointed on serious charges of dishonesty and tyranny, only to issue scathless from his examina- tions and receive promotion. He was never discouraged by the repeated in- justice he suffered; his passion for work made him enter just as enthusiastically as ever into reforms and improvements in the next government to which he was sent. To quote from Mr. Whitmore s memoir of the royal governors: We must class Andros among those statesmen, unwelcome but necessary, whose very virtues and abilities are detested in life, because they do so thoroughly their ap- pointed work. He vvas set, especially in New England, to carry out a policy xvhich was detested by the majority of the people. Into the merits or demerits of that policy it is not the purpose of this paper to enter. Its aim is simply to urge that the facts of history do not show that Andros was personally tyrannical and un- principled as he has been represented in the common New England tradition, and its purpose will be accomplished if it leads any serious students of our history to feel that his character and administra- tion, like Hutchinsons, are worthy of re- examination from another than the tra- ditional point of view. A SPANISH CITY IN THE NEW WORLD. By Mary F. Halizes. NLY a miserable fish- ing villa gea cluster of palm-thatched huts under a tropical sky, a broad white beach washed by the blue Pacific. The Spaniards ground their teeth, some even tore their beards in the first fury of their disappointment. For this was Panama! Since Antonio Tello de Guzman and his little band, sent to establish a line of military posts between the North and South seas, had reached the Pa- cific slope, they had heard the town of Panama frequently mentioned by their Indian escort. Eagerly the Spaniards pressed forward, certain of finding gold or pearls, perhaps, Quien sabe? a city of gorgeous palaces, with roofs and pillars of solid gold, such as were well known to abound in the Indiesfor had not Marco Polo seen them? And now the city of their de- sires was gained, and the Spaniards felt that life was indeed a blank as they gazed upon the sad reality and learned that Panama in the Indian tongue sig- nified Place where many fish are taken. But their countenances lightened as the natives crowded curiously about them. Around the arms and necks of their dusky hosts hung strings of fine pearls, which were willingly exchanged for jingling hawks bells and gaudy trinkets. Heaps of pearl oysters were brought to the white men, and the In- dians set about opening them by fire in the aboriginal fashion, when the Spaniardswho would have put a native over the coals with less com- punction than a pearl oysterinter- posed and taught them how to break the shells, evincing so much concern in the operation that the haughty cacique who accompanied them was amazed and disgusted. That was in 1517; yet in less than sixty years the Indian fishing village had become the most important city of America. A never-ceasing stream of treasure from the mines of Peru, from Mexico, Guatemala and Honduras from the spice islands and the pearl fisheries, poured into her store-houses, there to wait the sailing of the royal treasure-ships for Spain. It was one of the sights of the city to watch the de- parture of the treasure train, consisting of from a thousand to fifteen hundred mules, laden with gold and silver bricks, pearls, and the hardly less valu- able woods, gums, fruits and spices of the American tropics. LTnder a strong Spanish and Indian guard the precious freight was convoyed to the little town of Cruces, on the river Chagre, and there shipped in barges to the royal galleons waiting off Nombre de Dios in the North Sea. The streets of Panama were lined with beautiful buildings, and her con- vents and churches vied xvith those of Spain in the magnificence of their sacred paintings and ornaments. Without the town lay the villas of the great merchants and the officers of the crown; these were built of cedar, and stood in beautiful gardens overlook- ing the peaceful South Sea. Here the lives of those who dwelt within them passed in a happy dream. So, at least, thought the unfortunates whose lot it was to live and labor on the deadly eastern coast of the Isthmus. There was not a nation of Europe that did not cast covetous eyes on this xvhilom village. Small wonder was it then if the captains and crews of the light craft from Great Britain, Holland and France, which swarmed off the cayos,* sought by day and found in * A number of small islands surrounding cuba, the com- mon refuge of pirates. 59 60 A SPANISH CITY IN THE NEW WORLD. their dreams at night the strait which iiinst exist between the North and South seas. To find this strait; to steal through it; to swoop down upon the white and yellow ingots and great milky pearls xvhich lay in gleaming heaps in the storehouses of Panama; to load their vessels and sail away with wealth enough to last a lifetime, xvas the universal aspiration of the Brethren of the Coast. One among them realized itin part. He did not find the strait, but he did fill his vessel with the coveted wealth of Panama and sail merrily away to England, where Charles II. rewarded his wicked success with the order of knighthood. This daring pirate was Henry Mor- gan. The son of a rich Welsh yeo- man, he had no desire to follow in the footsteps of his worthy father, but longed to see the world. To that end Harry Morgan left home while yet a mere lad and, making his way to the nearest seaport, shipped for the Barba- does with a sailing-master who told him many fair tales until the runaway was on hoard and the ship under way. Then the captain treated him most cruelly, and when the port was reached sold his unfortunate passenger as a slave. In the hard years of his servitude the generous nature of the Welsh lad became distorted; rage and bitterness filled his heart, and so hardened it that pity xvithered and never took root again. Compelled to labor when racked by pain and half delirious with fever, exposed with naked skin to the burning sun and pouring rain, half starved, beaten without mercy, the marvel was that he lived to complete his term of bondage. The wretched years crawled by, however, and at last Henry Morgan found himself free but penniless and destitute of friends. It was impossible to secure a passage home, nor could he see any way to gain food for his Stomach or Clothes for his Back, except by uniting with the wicked Order of Pirats or Rob- bers of the Sea. Accordingly, he made his way to Jamaica and was taken on board a craft bound on a pi- ratical cruise. He learned his new trade so rapidly that after the third or fourth voyage he became captain of a vessel, and in a few years commander of the pirate fleet. Emboldened by the unbroken suc- cess of the daring forays which had rendered his name the terror of the Spanish coast, the British buccaneer determined to descend upon the strong city of Panama and put it to sack and ransom. Twelve hundred men, Eng- lish, French and Dutch, agreed to fol- low him, and, since the long-sought strait still eluded the navigators, he led them across the Isthmus, following the line of posts established by Guzman one hundred and fourteen years before. The fame of the pirates coming had preceded them, and Spaniards and Indians fled in terror, hiding in caves and sxvamps. The Brethren of the Coast had not provided themselves with food for a long march, expecting to find plenty on the route; but what the inhabitants could not carry with them they had destroyed, and the marau(lers xvere reduced to such ex- tremities that, coming across a number of sacks made of bullocks hide and used for transporting merchandise, they fell upon them and devoured them with avidity. Some Persons, who were never out of their Mothers Kitchins, says a literary pirate who accompanied the expedition and sub- sequently chronicled it, may ask, How these Pirats could eat, swallow, and dijest, those pieces of Leather so hard and dry? Unto whom I only answer, That could they once experi- ment what Hunger, or rather Famine is they would certainly find the man- ner by their own necessity, as the pirats did. For these, first took the Leather and shicd it in pieces: Then they did beat it between two Stones, and rub it, often dipping it in the Water of the River, to render it by these means supple and tender. Lastly, they scraped off the Hair, and roasted or broyld it upon the Fire. A SPANISH CITY IN THE NEW WORLD. 61 And being thus cooked, they cut it into small morsels, and eat it; helping it down with frequent Gulps of Water, which by good Fortune they had nigh at hand. On the sixth day of their weary march the freebooters found a barn stored with maize, and on the ninth a drove of cattle, which they fell upon, slaughtered and ate with great rejoic- ings. On this same day, from the lofty height still known as El Cerro de los Buccaneros, they descried the shin- ing steeples of Panama and the wide expanse of the Pacific. Then the gaunt crew danced, shouted, embraced one another, and finally lay down to sleep, that they might be refreshed for the mornings conflict. But there was little sleep in Panama. Vessels were plying up and down the coast or between the adjacent islands, croxvded with frightened fugitives, while men, women and children, wild with terror, stood at the waters edge and begged to be taken on board. Guided by devoted Indian servants, many were hastening to caves or coverts of the forest, where the In- dians forefathers had, in their day, hidden from cruel Spaniards. Others there were who thought less of life than of the wealth amassed by toil and privation, which they sought to save by sinking in wells and burying in secret places. The churches were filled with women and children, who, huddled close to the altars and sacred images, wept and prayed; while through the livelong night the tramp of feet, the rattle and clang of arms and armor, resounded mingled with the neighing of horses and the bellow- ing of the wild oxen which were to be used against the enemy on the morrow. All too soon the day dawned upon the devoted city. The pirates rose refreshed and, forming themselves into companies, advanced upon the town, sworn neither to give or receive quar- ter. The Spanish forces, consisting of four hundred horse, twenty-four hun- dred foot, and two thousand wild oxen, advanced to meet them. The oxen proved unruly and did more in- jury to their allies than to the enemy; the plain upon which they manceuvred was soft and full of holes, which crip- pled the movements of the cavalry; in short, the battle lasted but two hours, when the Spaniards fled and Morgan led his men through the gates of Panama. Then indeed it was woe to the vanquished! Men and women were remorselessly tortured to force them to reveal the whereabouts of their and their neighbors treasure. Even tender children were not spared. Late in the afternoon of that dreadful day a fire broke out, and despite every effort to stay it the city was consumed. The pirates forced their wretched pris- oners into the smouldering ruins to rescue the precious metals they might contain, driving them back if they came forth empty-handed, and greet- ing with ribald jeers and laughter the anguished cries of the scorched and maimed wretches. For four weeks the buccaneers re- mained encamped around what had been Panama. At last, on February 24, 1671, Morgan and his men de- parted, carrying with them one hundred and seventy-five pack ani- mals laden with spoils, and six hun- dred prisoners devoted to slavery or death in default of ransom. The Spaniards had looked forward to the departure of the pirates as some allevi- ation of their misery, thinking they might at least die unmolested upon the ruins of their home. When they learned that even that poor consolation was denied them, a wail of agony arose, so piercing, so heartbroken, that even the pirates were moved to a semblance of pity. All but their leader. Maiiy of the women, says the old chronicler, beggd of Captain Morgan upon their knees, with infinite Sighs and Tears, that he would permit them to return unto Panama, there to live in company of their dear Husbands and Children, in little Huts of Straw, which they would erect, seeing that they had no houses until the rebuilding of the City. 62 THE BUNDLE HANDKERCHIEF. But his answer was, He came not thither to hear Lamentations and Cryes, but rather to seek Moneys. Therefore they ought to seek out for that in the first place, wherever it were to be had, and bring it to him, other- wise he would assuredly transport them all unto such places as they cared not to go. So the pirates marched away, dragging the wretched Span- iards with them. At Cruces a number of the captives were ransomed; the remainder were taken to Portobello, where all ransom was refused. Yet many of the unfortunates probably es- caped; for dissensions broke out among their captors, and Morgan with his English supporters stole away with the greater part of the booty and set sail in the dead of night, leaving his Dutch and French companions to con- sole one another. Great was the wrath of Spain at the tragedy of Panama. It was ordered that the city be rebuilt immediately, and so strongly fortified as to be im- pregnable. The site chosen was a lit- tle peninsula at the base of the hill of Ancon, about two leagues from the old city. Its walls were of massive granite, from twenty to forty feet high, and over ten feet thick. Upon them strongly fortified watch-towers were placed at intervals of two or three hun- drd feet. The city was divided from the mainland by a deep moat, and en- trance was gained through three mas- sive gates. So great was the cost of these magnificent fortifications, that the Spanish council, when called upon to audit the accounts, grimly inquired whether the new city of Panama was girt by walls of silver or gold. So through the shifting fortunes of two centuries the new city of Panama has lived and thrived. Its wealth and prosperity are founded on a steadfast basis; but a more romantic interest hangs over the crumbling tower, the fragment of vine-covered wall, and the pier of a shattered bridgeall that now remain to mark the place where stood in 1671 the most noble and most loyal city of Panama.~~ THE BUNDLE HANDKERCHIEF. By Elisabeth Merritt Gosse. - N the Salem of to- a & day are many juno- vations. Charter ______ Street Burying ,,~ ground stands on the same spot, as it is likely to continue to do to the end of time; and Mr. Pepper still makes lemon and peppermint Gib- raltars. But the East India Marine Museum is quite another place, with its modern accessions of Japanese art and scientific specimens, and the dig- nified East Indian gentlemen in silk gowns and snowy turbans, who were once so dominant in their sheltering glass case at the head of the stairs, and to whom xvell bred Salem children in- stinctively bowed upon entering, now wear a slightly injured and self-con- scious air and appear hardly to ap- prove of recent arrangements made by Professor Morse and Mr. John Robin- son, concerning which they were not even consulted. The Custom House still looks down on Derby Wharf and across blue, sunny waters to Marble- head; but the Essex. Institute so long ago went visiting next door as to be quite at home in the old Daland house; the stately Peabody mansion now echoes the martial tread of the Salem Cadets; and Captain Bertrams house shelters a public library. Long gone are the quaint shops of Robert Peele and Francis Choate and good Mr. Perley, who fitted youthful feet to shoes with an allowance of half a size THE BUNDLE HANDKERCHIEF. (53 for growth, and presented favored cus- tomers with bouquets from his back garden. The old Judge White man- sion with its grassy lawn, whereon the town crier lolled when he and his bell were not in active service; and Mr. Uphams residence next door have given way to business blocks; and the electric car has taken the place of the accommodating Danvers coach and Mr. Jellys cab. The Common has become Washington Sqnare, swept and garnished; and a fine new house with neither fireplaces nor cupboards covers the lilac and rose-grown corner where once the Misses Knight dis pensed needles and thread, dippers of ye ast and pints of milk, marbles and molasses candy, over the high connter of their little shop. Buffums Corner and Salem Turnpike have turned into a modern avenue; and were it not for sleepy old Federal and Chestnut streets, I sometimes think Iii should hardly know my Salem. These are days when those who were born and bred in the old colonial town, and who have since wandered far, go back and walk about her streets. They lean over the old garden walls, and remember how in years so many that the connt is almost lost they smelled the fragrance of the great lilies in Miss Nichols garden, and peeped at the wonderful tulips over the Cabot fence. But the faces in the street are strange faces. There are fleeting re- semblances, haunting recollections; but one may go back and wander about for a whole day as if astrangerin a strange land, thou6h it is safe to say that at nightfall some shop-keeper or bank cashier will tell at his tea-table for they still keep early hours in Salem that he saw Dan Hood on the street to-day. He was a Hacker school-boy. I know nothing that mystifies cal- low young people of this day and gen- eration more than when, in speaking of old Salem institutions, I mention as prominent among them the bundle handkerchief. Yet the bundle hand- kerchief is as vivid a bit of color in Salems history as is Alice Flints silk hood, the frigate Essex, the North Bridge or even the House of the Seven Gables; and to speak of it calls up a long line of Salems sires and dames who took pride and pleasure and com- fort in its use. The bundle handkerchief, consid- ered collectively and in its prime, was as varied as were bundles. It was made of silk, of finest cotton, of Madras, of stoutest ginghaim Origi- nally, like the old blue china and the preserved ginger, the carved ivory, the guava jelly, the amber beads, the sweet smelling sandal-wood fans and the pina gowns, it came home in the East India ships, and was introduced to Salem ways and fashions by the men whom xve were proud to call the dons of Salem. But Salem thrift and sconce soon found that to the bundle iuust belong the bundle handkerchief; so it came about that Maam Batchel- der and Ann Bray sold many a rem- nant of gingham and calico over their counters, for the express purpose of being cut into bundle handkerchiefs, and hemmed by childish fingers, as the little women did their stint of sewing in the long days in Miss Pierces dame school. By no means a good house- keeper was she who did not have good store of bundle handkerchiefs, care- fully washed and ironed, neatly folded, and laid in smooth piles in a drawer in one of the great, square, xvell- lighted china closets in which old Salem houses rejoicedclosets larger than many a bedroom in a modern apartment. When my grandmamma or any of her friends went out to tea, while wait- ing the arrival of Mr. Jellys cab which conveyed the visitors from one house to another with impartial unpunct- nality, the best afternoon cap, destined later to crown becomingly the white curls, was deposited in a frail round straw cap basket, the whole being then tied up in a bundle handkerchief of finest white India silk, warranted to keep out every speck of dust on even the windiest day. When the Salem belle packed her trunk to pay a visit 64 THE BUNDLE HANDKERCHIEF. to Boston consins, her piles of dainty hand-made underwear were wrapped in fine lawn or linen or muslin hand- kerchiefs, sweet with delicate scent of orris or lavender or rose. A new gown always came home from the dressmakers carefully pinned in a thin and worn but newly laundered Madras handkerchief; and pale pink and blue gingham plaids were consecrated to highly polished shirts and spencers. No Salem infant, even with the requisite number of great-grandfathers and grandmothers, could be consid- ered to have been properly introduced to society until it had dangled in a bundle handkerchief from a pair of steelyards, while its weight, was re- corded in the family Bible at the end of the family pedigree. When on Sunday morning it was my pleasure to be allowed to go with Jane or Bridget to Mr. Hathaways bakery, for the Sunday morning baked beans and brown bread, which had been prepared at home the afternoon before and consigned to his care and his great brick oven over night, Brid- get always shook out two great bundle handkerchiefs of coarse blue and white checked gingham; the pot of beans was placed in the middle of one, the corners being brought up and tied in a hard knot; the other was wrapped about the sweet smelling loaf of brown bread, and the homeward march was taken in company with other maid- servants and small girls, it not being unknown in the annals of the town that sometimes the knots had given way or the bundle handkerchief been dropped, and the family breakfast come to grief on the sidewalk. When Salem women packed their soldiers trunks three or four and thirty years ago, by the side of the prayer-book from Mr. Wilde or the Bible from Dr. Briggs and the medi- cine chest from Mr. Pinkbam, they laid in a pile of fine new bundle hand- kerchiefs. Three of these, of dark red silk, with the name embroidered in one corner, came home in one sol diers trunk, brought by a guard of honor; for Salem gave the first of the Essex County heroes who laid down their lives for their country in the war of the Rebellion, as she did in the war of the Revolution. The last recollection I have of the appearance of the bundle handkerchief in Salem streets, is as it was folded about a book from the Athemeum and carried tinder the arm of Mr. John An-~ drews, one of the old-time proprietors of that exclusive and carefully cher ished literary institution. I know not if he be living or dead, but it is hard t& believe that he does not still take his accustomed walk down Essex Street, with the clock-like regularity of those old residents of Salem whom I do not need to call to mind. Upon his daily visit to the Athenaeum, Mr. Andrews ascended the stairs with a shuffling step, always easily recognizable, and en- tered the reading-room, when he would deposit his bundle on the desk, untie the knots in his handkerchief, a silk one of rich dark colors, and take out his book to replace it with the latest addition to the shelf behind the door or the last new magazine from the table. Every movement, from his low bow upon entering to the final test of the knots of the bundle handkerchief,. was made with utmost gentleness and deliberation, and with the finest flavor of old-time courtesy. The bundle handkerchief, like other things interwoven in Salems history, has disappeared. Paper and string, prosaic, rustling, tearable, and to be quickly thrown aside, have taken its place. But in the minds of Salem children of a generation ago will alxvays linger a respectful memory of the neat, sweet, fresh, handsome and always use- ful bundle handkerchief, with its dainty whiteness or its brilliant hues. The fashion of this world passeth away; but there are often revived more in- convenient and less picturesque fash- ions than that of the bundle handker- chief. TAUNTONAN OLD COLONY TOWN. By Samuel V. Cole. ASSUME that most readers of the New Eng- 1w d Magazine who take the trouble to read this article do not care to know all that it is possible to know about Taunton; and that if they miss the genealogical tables, ros- ters of military companies, and copies of deeds and wills, which prove so in- spiring to the antiquarian mind, they will graciously pardon the omission. It may even be a comfort to be told at the outset that Taunton, after the manner of ancient Rome, lost all its public r e c o r d s, covering the first two centu- ries of its life, in a (lisastrous fire which swept the town one Sunday morning in the year 1838. How- ever, by consulting the records of neigh- boring towns, the state archives at Boston, the accu- mulations of the Massachusetts Flis- torical Society, the family traditions of the people, and the memory of the old- est inhabitant, it has been possible to gather a tolerably complete and har- monious story which for interest is not exceeded by that of any town in 65 the Old Colony except Plymouth itself.* This Old Colony town, an hours ride from Boston, is neither city nor country, but a measurably happy com- bination of both. As they say in Scotland of a house that is built for a single family, Taunton is self-con- tained; its business lies within itself: it is not the bedroom of some larger place. With its nearly 30,000 inhabi- tants, its one hundred and seventy miles of streets and roads and its two hundred and twenty-five miles of side- walks; with its shops and stores re- sorted to as a centre of supply for a large outlying territory in surrounding towns; its large commercial and manu- facturing interests; its shipping, its banks, telephones, electrics, and daily newspapers ; its thea- tre, clubs, and musi- cal festivals,it ex- hibits many of the features of urban life. On the other hand, the country aspect appears in the fact that Taunton is made up of a group of seven or eight villages- Hopewell, Whitten- ton, Britanniaville, * The citizens are under special obligations to Captain John w. D. Hall, secretary of the Old Colony Historical Society, for eminent service in this direction; to the Rev. 5. H. Ensery, D.D.. president of the Society, for the very full and valuable History of Taunton which he published about two years ago; and to the Hon. E. H. Bennett, dean of the law department in the Boston University and first mayor of Taunton, for the address, a re- markably fine piece of local history, which be delivered at the quarter-millennial celebra- tion of the city in 1889. TOWER OF THE UNITARIAN CHURCH. 66 JAUJTON AN OLD COLONY OWN. Oakland, The Weir (locally pronounced ware), East Taunton (sometime called fiquawbetty, from an ancient ~quav, b the name of Betty, who once fig- red there), and The Greenwhich are more or less grown togeth ~r; and it a stranger should happen to see the town on the two or three days in Sep- member vii m thoi. ands of peopY and II ~oits of farm products converge at Ii rrounds o the Agricult ral ~ic et he would I elieve that the faimiug i iteret of Taunton are tot in considerable. The oldest and largest ,dll ge, n am ng the Acm or old taning field, round vi ich now cei tres the businer Ale of the whole town, has no other listincti name. B er bod who u its there iron the c ther Tillaoes speaus of cc n i ig to The Green. The reen proper, to which considerable hstoric interest attaches, is a small rectangular piece of well-kept lawn, crossed by broad gravel paths, with a fountain at the centre, and a line of tall immemorial elms around it like soY diers forming a hollow square. The wooden I enchm are occupied by lout gers in sm in- mer time; auc- tions a in sonic old English tot us, are i -casionallv held just at the edge out-Ide on aturoac after- noons: at d there the 9 1 ation rt i - -an uet daily bud an an hence. The mills or actories if ot c sort r another t I e found in-each ot the vii- 1 ges naute d, and the large areas bit tom residence undisti rbed by ti e sound of hammer or whir of machinery make - unton I ~ th a busin sshke and a A melike pla w am the same mi ne. One of its admirable featurco is ms roomi- ess. There n a comparative absence i the tene nent blocks so common in IAUA1\LN UKVtAN nnt ~- COURT HOUSE 4 UNTON ~KEEN A U ~TURY (:0. TAUNTON, AN OLD COLONY TOWN. 67 other manufacturing towns, while the large number of cottages, together vith the generous spaces left between the houses and in front of them, pre- serve the village appearance, and give the impression that Taunton is a place of comfortable homes. Whether or not this feature is due to a tendency to expansion inherited from the days when ~he early settlers cried out to the General Court again and again for more elbow room, it is certainly in the interests of fresh air and good health. he trees which line the streets and fill the ~ountry aroundsome of them evergreens even in the heart of the townthe lawns and gardens, the groves, orchards and open fields not far away, the bridges and turns of the river, the brooks and numerous ponds, throw a garment of beauty over the region in the season of outdoor life; ud it may be added that the level and for the most part excellent roads make Taunton and vicinity, if not a paradise for horse and bicycle, at least a very good beginning for one. Taunton River is a favorite place of resort, especially since the formation of the Taunton Boat Club and the erection of its building; and von may see row-boats, canoes and an occa- sional steam launch plying up or down stream on pleasant afternoons and evenings. ~here is a spot on the way to East Taunton which I fancy is de- serving of some special name. The river makes a short bend, and you sud- lenly find yourself, as it were, in a sti ctnre of Gothic architecture. The walls of thick green foliage, rising high into the sky all around the tiny lake- like enclosure, support a roof of blue, and from certain points of view appear themselves to rest on the river as on a polished floor of dark marble. It is CITY HALL. a silent place, and the time to visit it is vhen the sun has sunk low enough to slant its mellow light among the leaves underneath the roof. On several oc- casions, two seasons ago, I rowed up and entered this Sainte Chapelle of na- ~ure between half past four and five oclock in the afternoon in order to hear a particular bird, whose appoint- ment seemed to be at that hour, start ap and sing a wonderful solo some- where away in the invisible distance. They tell me it was a hermit thrush; but I never have felt quite sure. The Park, which the electric road company has laid out and equipped, occupies a delightful spot on the edge of Scaddings Pond, and in summer draws throngs of people into its cool- ing shade. The pond has been re- christened as Sabbatia Lake, from the name of the beautiful flower which grows there. Elders, Assawampsett and Long a chain of ponds on the east, from which Taunton derives its fine water supply Nippenicket further north, and Winnecunnett on the old Bay Road toward Boston, are only a few miles from the Green. Wood- CITY HOTEL. 68 TAUNTON, AN OLD COLONY TOWN. ROBERT TREAT PAINE. ward Springs, a dell of Arcadian beauty, to which access is had by car- riage or bicycle, is much frequented by small picnic parties. The highest land, though less than two hundred feet above the Green, is Prospect Hill, which in autumn wears a robe of gor- geous colors. In the suburbs there are several points of elevated ground, from which one obtains a view of the town with its houses embosomed among the trees, its tall chimneys and churches rising above them, and the dome of the new court house, which seems to have taken on the office of general overseer for the whole region. The territory of Taunton lay within the jurisdiction of the Plymouth Gov- ernment; but the first settlers came chiefly from Dorchester in the Colony of Massachusetts Bay. We have a mingling of the Pilgrim and Puritan elements, the latter greatly predomi- nating; and Taunton has gone through the experiences common to nearly all the older New England towns. It started with the minister, the teacher and the gristmill; it has had its Puritan Sabbath and Old Testa- ment economy; it has sung long psalms and listened or slept during long sermons; it has had its stocks, whipping post, pillory and eccentric characters. Rev. Ephraim Judson, the ninth minister of Taunton, would give out the longest hymn in the book, on sum- mer Sundays, and while the members of his congregation piously sweltered and praised the Lord, he would steal away and lie under a tree until the psalm was ended. He thus escaped, the chronicler adds, both the heat and the singing. His successor, Rev. John Foster, complained of too small a sal- ary, and said, If the people of Taun- ton do not raise my salary, I will serve them a trick the devil never didI will leave them, and the devil never did that. It is not recorded whether the people admitted or denied the latter part of this statement. In 1656, the year in which Miles Standish died, a Scotchman was publicly whipped at Taunton, Alexander Aimes sat in the stocks, and on the same daya May training dayKatheren Aimes stood on the green wearing the scarlet letter. But the town has some special claims to historical notice. It is inter- esting to believe that John Hampden, the English patriot who resisted the ship tax of Charles I., may once have GENERAL DAVID COBB. TAUNTON, AN OLD COLONY TOWN. 69 crossed Taunton territory ;* and to know that Miles Standish, in company with one of the purchasers, was the snrvevor who laid out its borders; that Tauntons first minister became after- wards a conrt chaplain and walked in the same procession with the~ poet Mil- ton at the funeral of Oliver Cromwell; that Thomas Coram, who established the Foundlings Hospital in London, where visitors go to hear Professor Momerie preach and the choir of orphan children sing, was a Taunton shipbuilder, and still lives in Taunton in the name of one of the streets; that on one memorable occasion, King Philip, who made matters so danger- ons and interesting for this region, at- tended a conference in a Taunton chnrch (a political, not an ecclesiastical affair, by the way); that the first per- manent settlement in Vermont was made by pioneers from Taunton; that * 5ee article, Did John nampden come to New England? by Edwin D. Mead, in the New Engi ad Magazine, September and October, 1889. two of Washingtons aids and one of the signers of the Declaration of linde- pendence were citizens of Tannton; that the anchor of the famous frigate Constitiit on, requiring ten yoke of oxen to transport it to tide water in Dighton, was of Taunton manufac- ture; that the first company to set foot on rebel soil in response to the call of Abraham Lincoln was composed of Taunton men; that on one occasion a Taunton soldier, Major-General D. N. Conch, was called to assume command of the entire army of the Potomac; that Taunton has furnished a governor, a lieutenant governor, and chief jnstices for every court in the commonwealth; and, finally, that the iron and silver mannfactures of Tannton have ac- qnired almost a worldwide reputation. The territory of Taunton lay in the direct path between Plymouth and the region about Mount Hope; and the first white men to tread its soil, so far as known, were Edward Winslow, HARRISON STREET. 70 7AUNTON AN OLD COLONY TOWN. afterwards governor of the Colony, and his companion, Stephen Hopkins, when they went on their friendly visit to Massasoit in the snmmer following the landing of the Mayflower Guided by the Indian Sqnanto, the same who taught them the still prevailing cnstom of fertilizing each hill of corn with a herring, they donbtless followed an old Indian trail. They crossed Taun- 7on River, on Tnesda r morning, July 3, at Shallow Water, East Tannton, made their way along the north- westbank throngh rhat is now Dean ~treet, thence, b; Neck o Land, to Dighton and Som- erset, and then strnck off in a wuthwesterl di- rection to the home of the In- dian chief in hat is now X arren, R. I, About two years later, in March, X Tiuslo v made the ame journey again, in order to minister tC Massasoit in his ichness, and this time he was accompanied by John Hampden, a gentleman of London, \ Th~ was spendin~ the ~ inter at Ply- mouth. huAow de~ ribez the ground on both sides of the river as being very good and for the most part cleared. ~housands of Indians had lived there, but had been carried off by a great plague a few yea s before; and pity it was, and is, to see so many goodly fieldes, and so well seated, without men to dres~ and manure them. He refers also to the much good timber which he saw oak, xvalnut, fir, beech and exceeding great chestnut trees. All this neglected region had become infeied with wolves. The traditional founder of Taunton, as of ancient Carthage, was a woman. That accounts for the adop- tion of the Vergilian phrase, Dux femina facti, in the city seal. But a very different woman she was from the one to whom the phrase was first applied. It is needless, perhaps, to say to anyone belonging to this sceptical gene ation that the story of herbuying the territor MORTON HOSPITAL. from the Indiau~ for a ack- knife and a peck ~f ean.~ is riot a~ true as it i.~ ii t~r :t ing. It may ze pious enouc~h to repr~sent such a trausa ~tion on the c )rl rate seal, so lono a~ the ~oufe- son ha: been made that the :t~r it~e I as a historic a ~t has gone tu the limbo t ~ whi h all good st brie: go wh i they TAUNTON, AN OLD COLONY TOWN. 71 ie. Nevertheless, MI iss Elizabeth Poole herself is not to be laughed away so easily. She is a substantial piece of Taunton history. We find an allusion to her in the journal of Gov. John Winthrop, under date of 1637, in these words: This year a plantation was begun at Tecticutt, by a gentlewoman, an ancient maid, one Mrs. Poole. She went thither and endured mucb hardship, and lost much cattle. This is also the first allusion to any settlement in this region. Titicut was the Indian name of Taunton River, on which the ancient maid had settled. The place was outside the present limits of Taunton, in what is now North Middleboro, and the original name still survives. Taun- ton Gr~at River-the great being used relatively to the smaller Mill Riverand its branch the Yamasket iay be compared on the map, if you do not look at the map too closely, to a fishing rod and line at the moment when the rod is bent and the line hauled taut in the act of landing a large fish. The thick part of the rod extends from Mount Hope Bay through Taunton, the thin end is at Titicut, while the line runs down into ssawampsett Pond. The plantation at Titicut, somewhere in the angle be- tween rod and line, prepared the way for the purchase and settlement o Taunton farther down the stream. As the re- markable woman who thus acted the part of pioneer was, and is, and will continue to be, the patron saint of Taunton, we cannot dismiss her without a further word. Miss Poole (or Pole), called Mrs. Poole by courtesy, was forty-eight years ancient at the time Governor Winthrop heard of her. She and her brother William, five years her junior, were born and christened at Shute, Devonshire, England. They belonged to a gentle family, inher- ited, it would appear, considerable property, and, like many others, doubtless came to the New World for conscience sake, reaching aunton by way of Dorchester and Titicut. The sisters early promi- nence is shown by the fact that in the order of the General Court directing that lands be layd forth for the Rev, William Hook, the first minis- ter, and the Rev. Nicolas Street, the first teac ~er, the name of Miss Poole was specially added the three adjoin- ing estates occupying the whole south- erlv side of the present Main Street. She was a woman of affairs and good judgment, as is evident from her nu- merous business transactions, and from her having been appointed at one time an appraiser of an estate. She was a voman of piety, for she declares in her will that she vishes to set her ouse in orier according to the direc COHANNET STREET DURING THE FLOOD OF i886. PUBLIC LIBRARY AND BRISTOL COUNTY SAYINGS BANK, 72 TAUNTON, AN OLD COLONY TOWN. tion and message of the Lord unto Hezekiah, when he was sick; she also bequeathed a cow to the church of God in Taunton, and appointed the two deacons to be the overseers of her will. She was a woman of fore- thought and propriety; for, in leaving her wearing apparel to her cousin 1vlary, she commits the keeping of it to her overseers for to let her have what the.y may think fit for her to wear as she hath need of it. It would be in- teresting to know how Mary looked when dressed up in her cousin Eliza- beths clothes, and whether the good deacons doled them out to her with discretion and were satisfactory judges of their fitness. Miss Poole was also a woman of appreciation, for she be- stowed on her favorite cow the name with which the Germans affectionately speak of their greatest humoristthe Only. Miss Poole owned several par- cels of land in the town, and at the time of her death her home was at the cor- ner of Dean and Winter Streets. Her monument stands in Mt. Pleasant Cemetery, erected, as the inscription rather ambiguously declares, by the females of Taunton; her mortal re- mains, removed from her homestead lot a century after her death, repose under a slab in the Plain Cemetery; her name is attached to a tract of land (Pole Plain in l3erkley), a cotton mill, a lodge, and wanders through the streets on a pleasure barge. Her memory should be held in perpetual regard. Taunton began in the year 1638, when, with permission from the Ply- mouth government, the territory was purchased of Massasoit by an associa- tion of forty-six persons; it achieved a corporate existence in 1639, with a constable of its own (the population of the whole Colony at that time was about 3,000); it became the shire town ON TAUNTON RIVER. TAUNTON, AN OLD COLONY TOWN. 73 word, as some- times explained, means the place of snows, for the annual snowfall is rather slight, and sleighing in Taunton for more than a few days at a time is un- common. But the place has had its great snow- storms,asin 1717, when a citizen in one. As recently as i886 the melting snows and contin- uous rains caused Mill River to overflow its banks and render some of the streets impassable except in boats. This is spoken of as the Flood. Another and perhaps bet- ter explanation is to identify the body of the word with the Algonquin term ha mm, meaning river, as in Susqiw- I anna. Cohannet would then be a place characterized in sonic way by the river. But however the name Cohan- net arose, the settlers almost imme- cliately certainly as early as 16.40 of Bristol County in 1746, some of the honors of which it now di- vides with New Bedford and Fall River; and it ar- rived at the dig- nity of a city in i86~i5 Every foot of the soil was fairly bought and paid for, and Massa- soits son after- wards confirmed the original pur- lost his life chase. In the list of the forty-six appears the name of a Widdo Ran- dall, of whom nothing more is known; that of John Brown, who with Miles Standish did the surveying; and William Poole. The territory was a diamond-shaped tract, measuring eight miles on each side. This Eight Mile Purchase was increased on sev- eral occasions afterwardsas by the North Purchase in i668, which more than doubled the original tract and made Taunton and Dorchester ad- joining towns, and by the South Pur- chase in 1672 until Taun- ton covered an area of one hundred and fifty square miles, and comprised either wholly or in part the present towns of Norton, Easton, Mansfield, Raynham, Digh- ton and Berkley. This terri- tory, considerably larger than the District of Colum- bia, remained intact until 1711, when Norton was in- orporated, and then began the slicing off and cutting in which has left Taunton on the map almost in the shape of an hour glass, two miles across at the narrowest part. The Indians described the locality as Cohannet. The reason is not clear, if the * The city charter was accepted June 6, uS4, and the first organization of the city government occurred January 2, 2665. TAUNTON HERRING FISHING. TAUNTON BOAT CLUB HOUSE. 74 TAUNTON AN OLD COLONY TOWN. adopted the name Taunton, in honor and love of onr dear and native conn- try. ivI any of them came from the sonthwest of England, and it was only natnrai that they shonid reprodnee in their new home some of the names so tenderl associated with their past. It is said also that the aspect of the region is snch as wonld remind them of the scenes they had left in the neighhor- hood of the English Tannton. The New England city and the to ~ns which cinster aronnd it may he re- garded in name, aspect and hlood as a piece of Somerset or Devonshire nnder new conditions; and it is pleasant to r -cord that there has heen an exchange of conrtesies hetween the mother city in England and its American name- sake on several occasions notahly at the time of the celebration in 1889. ~he pronnnciation of the name, hy the way, seems to have nndergone a ~ea- change in crossing the Atlantic, and become a sort of shihboleth by which the present inhahitants may he recog- nized. hey give the first syllahle as if it vere Tahn a pronnn fiation which has mnch in its favor. In 1639 Captain William Poole was ordered to exercise the citizen- in arms and Tannton- military re ord began. The mannal of amy of that (lay seem- qnaint enonoh with snch directions in it as Pnt on yonr bande- hers, Prime vonr pan,~~ Blox - vonr cole, Cock vonr match. LInt even flintlocks were far in the fntnre. The town was comparatively free from military alarms nntil the restless- ness of Massasoits son, Metacomet, better known as King Philip, dis- tnrhed the whole Colony. Philip was no ordinary Indian, and it was proba- blv in his mind to nnite the trihes of New England and New York for the extermination of the whites. The danger hecame so apparent that Philip was snmmoned to meet the commi-- sioners of Plvmonth, inclncling the governor, at Tannton, and representa- ti ~es from Massachnsetts Lay were invited to attend as arbitrators. It vas on an pril day in 1671. the day ppointed, that Philip arrived in the ontskirts with his warriors cnnmng, cantious and uncertain. Ha -ing I osted sentinek on the high ground back of the present St. Thomai Church, he advanced as far as the I ridge near the ol grist mill; there he hesitated and sent a message to the governor. ome of the people wished to attack him at once, but better coun- sels prevailed, and he Yc s induced to enter the tox n on -onclition that hk men should accompmv him, that the -onference should be held in the meet- MAIN STREET. TA UNTOAT, N OLD COLOA Y TO N. ing-house, and that he and his people should sit by themselves. The build- ing stood on the piece of ground con- secrated to religious purposes from the founding of the townthe site of the present Unitarian Church with its beautiful environment; and the scene it witnessed on that day was singular and interesting. On one side of the church, says the historian Barry, were the English, wear- ing the distinguishing garb of their day, with solemn faces and close-shorn hair; on the other were the Indians in the loose dres~ of their country, adorned with wampum and all the finer in which savages delight, their long black hair hanging down their back, and their small sunken eyes gleaming like coals of fire. No Taunton church has ever seen another such congregation before or since. As a result of this conference, Philip was overawed, signed a treaty of peace ud submission, and promised to be a good Indian. But his regeneration was not thorough. No sooner was he in his old haunts again than he began his old plottings; and four years later the whole oiony was involv ~d in King Philips War. It was at this time Lhat Taunton received an in -itation which for comprehensiveness has uev~r teen exceeded. The vhole population vere invited by some of the to vus on the Cane to come and remain amono them as their guest until the c anger s ould I e over. This invitation -as cknowledged in a letter filled with gratitude, brotherl love and trut in God, but xvas declined because, among other reasons, the people feared that in leaving their homes they would be Nanting to the name of God, and the interest of Thrist in this place, and be- tray m ich diffidence and cox -ardice, Our sins, the letter added, are already such as might render our friends (did the~ know us) afraid to entertain us, and what can we expect as the issue of such an addition thereto, but that the hand of God would follow us and find us out whithersoever we ~ee? Surely such an acknowledg- ment of sin is unusual in diplomatic correspondence. Taunton became a centre for opera- tions, and, although occupying an ex- posed position, seems to ha -e suffered far less than would be expected. Philip was perfectly familiar with aunton, having a hut on the nor- therl shore of the ~owling Pond, vI ich he used to frequent in tIm hunt- ing season; and one reason given for the to vns exemption is that Philip was on friendly terms with some of its inhabitants, especially x dth the Leon- rd family, vho had accommodated him at their iron vorL by repairino his guns and tools. It is said that he had given order that none of t ee Leonards should be molested, and that I aunton and Bri Igewater should e spared till the ast. In the same month of A yut in ~hich Philip x -as slain near Mt. Hope. hi: chief lie itenant, - unawan, x -it ~ THE JAIL. VUTHI OP CLUB. 76 TAUNTON, AN OLD COLONY TOWN. ton they raised a liberty pole on the Green and nnfnrled there a red flag hearing the words, Liberty and Union Union and Liberty. This was in October, i77~ and the some of the snrvivors of the swamp incident has been referred to by Heze- fight, was captnred in the edge of kiah Bntterworth in these lines: Rehoboth near the Tannton line, and the pictnresqne spot still goes by the name of Annawans Rock. There was great rejoicing in Tannton when Cap- tain Chnrch bronght in his prisoners; and, thongh he made every effort to save Annawans life, the aged chief zas beheaded by order of the Ply- month Government,and this ended the war. Tannton took a leading part in all the political and military affairs of the Colony. In i686 it resisted the arbi- trary measnres of Governor Andros, T was ~au{umr. bright aut mered the weir umn, and gum- The Taunton flowed fulFon that beautiful day, - And kirtled wives gathered the flagpole near, * * * * * And they heard the men say, while their own lips were dumb, Well defend with our valor and virtue and votes The red flag of Taunton That waves oer the Green. A month or six weeks before this time, General Gage had noticed the refnsing to levy the tax which he commanded; and a centnry later the same patriotic and inde- pendent spirit expressed itself in zeal for the American canse. The people of Tannton were greatly stirred by the passage of the Boston Port Bill, and long before the battle of Lexing- SOME OF TAUNTON 5 CHURCHES, 77 TAUNTON AN OLD COLONY TOWN temper of the people and had endeav- ored, with the aid of the toryism at Freetown, to raise an armed force to keep them in snbj ection; bnt, on hear- ing of his attempt, abont two hundred men of Taunton met at the Ware Bridge, chose a moderator, and ap- pointed a committee to rouse the neighboring towns, with the intention of assembling two or three thonsand men and march- ing to Freetown to give suitable warning to the tory leaders. Owing to this affair, a communica- tion to the MassaclniSettS Spy, one of the Boston papers of that day, de- clared that such was the spirit in Bristol County that it was more dangerous to be a tory at Taunton than in Boston itself. The news of the Battle of Lexington reached Taunton on the evening of April 19, and both the Taunton compa- nies of minute men, rallying at once, were able by a rapid night march to report for duty at Roxbury early the next morning. The population of Taunton at that time was only three thousand, and yet it furnished three other companies for the war. The patriotic sentiment of this re- gion, as Judge Bennett remarks, was largely moulded by Robert Treat Paine, who was about forty-five at the time of the Revolution, and whose house stood near the site of the present Taunton National Bank. He had conducted the prosecution against the British soldiers for the Boston Mas- sacre, was a member of the Conti- nental Congress, and one of the forty- six who pledged their lives, their for- tunes and their sacred honor in the immortal Declaration. His brother-in4aw, Gen. David Cobb, lived just across the Green, and was also one of the commanding influ- ences in the place. His fearless and resolute spirit may be seen in the way he dealt with the insurgents who be- sieged the court house in the time of Shays Rebellion. At the September term of Common Pleas, an armed mob assembled on the Green, near the court house, and demanded that the court should not be held. General Cobb, then one of the justices, answered the mob in words which have become n emorable in Taunton history. Away with your whining, he said; 1 will hold this court if I hold it in blood; I will sit as judge, or die as general. This was enough, and F ED AND BARTONS wORKS. ONE OF TuE coDANNET MILLS. 78 T JNTO2 ~, OLD COLONY TO VN. the mob dispersed. Soon a ter- ~ards the western counties vere in open rebellion, an I General Cobi apprehending another den onstratio ~ at ~aunton at the opening of ti e Supreme Court in October, took pos- session of the court house on the Sun- day previous with a force of ~olunteers ud one field piece. C n N ~ednesda tl e insur en t. appeared, to the num- I er of one hundred and eight -two, armed with English muskets, and pt t- ting themselves in battle array de- manded that tl e court papers be Thi. field pi ~ce s as christened Old Toby, from the came o a patriotic colored ~tan o. Raynham, and is still in cxlstence, lelivered up or else destroyed. en- eral Cobb, having disposed his militia and planted us cannon, is said to have drawn a line on the ground with his ~word, and then shouted to the rebel leader, ~olonel ralentine of Freetown, if ~cu rant these papers, come and take theni; but pass that line and I fire; and your blood be on your own head. Phe mob was again overawed, and armed resistance to the law n Ens ol ~ountv ended. Gen- eral Cobb, who had been an aid and intimate friend of Washing- ton, filled son e of the highest offices in the gift of Massachu- setts after the close of the Revo- lution, and his portrait hangs in the senate chamber at Boston. T ~ue late Hon. ~. au mel Crocker Cobb, formeri mayor of Bos- ton, was one of I is descendants. In the Ci dl War, Tauntons patriotic and military reco. d ruffered no dimiu ution. s in I~7 so ag in in i86r, a Taunton cou many was on the ray to Boston, tI e appointed reudezvo us, the very day on whicl t ~e summon- -ame. The spirit of Israel Putnam of Re ~oiu- tonaty fame, was seen in the act of Lieutenant John H. Church of 00115W. RB 5P lAGS. Wit ATON SEMIsTARY, SEMIJARV TALL. TAUNTON, iN OLD COLONY TOWN. 79 Taunton, who instantly resigned his business position and before eight oclock that morning enlisted for the var, so far as knm ~n, the first volun- teer of the Common vealth, if not in the ~ountrv. nd he enlisted as a private. It was on April 20, the same month and day, and almost the same ~our, in wi ich a company from Taun- ton had reported at Roxhury nearly a hundred years before, that Company of the ~auntOn Light uard disem- barked at ortress Monroe. And be it said to the credit of their fellow citi- z ms at home, that many thousands of dollars vere raised by subscription as a reserve fund for the families of the soldiers; so promptly was it done that the fact could be announced to the men before they left the Taunton station at eleven oclock in the uorning. Ta unto ns l~itory is one of its cherished I osses sio n s. It is a town where the roots of things strike sar back into the past; names familiar to the generation of Miles Standish are still in use a ooodly share of the Pilgrim spirit and of the pint of conservative independence has come dowi ~ dth the names. The vi- talit of family tradition finds many illustrations. The president of the BRISTOL ACADEMY. Tauntoii National Bank, for example, had an ai cestor in the military com- pany of Miles Standish, a grandfather in the company which reported at Roxbury in 1775, while he himself was one of the Taunton men w1x landed at Fortress Monroe April 20, i86i. Many articles of memorial value may be found among the faiiiily heirlooms through- out the town, and especially in the col lection of the Old Colony Historical Society in its building on Cedar Street. The presence of that society, the cele- bration of 1889, and the numerous tab- lets set tip to mark historic spots, have done much to interest the people in their heritage from the olden times. But on the foundation of conserva- tism there exists a business enterprise which has made the city in material things one of the most prosperous in the Commonwealth. The character- istic thing about Taunton to-day is its industrial life, the beginning of which goes back to the days of Elizab~etb Poole, that energetic woman herself having been one of the pioneers in the WHiTTENTON GRAMMAR SCHOOL. 80 TAUNTON, AN OLD COLONY TOWN. manufacture of iron. Tauntons abun- dant water supply from ponds and rivers, its situation at the head of navi- gation on Taunton River, seventeen miles from Mt. Hope Bay, and its ample facilities for transportation, have prepared the way for making it a manufacturing place. It was owing to the clay beds and the river that the brick and the herring (which is the ordinary alewife) were early introduced among the industries here; but the fact that they have be- come immortalized on Taunton souve- nir spoons should not lead outsiders to believe that everybody in town lives in a brick house and diets exclusively on herring. At the beginning of this cen- tury no less than 3,000,000 brick were every year exported from Taunton River, while from time immemorial scores of thousands of herring have annually ended their career in a Taun- ton fish barrel. One of the signs of spring in this region is the advent of the herring in the market, and one of the sights is to watch the men sweep the river with their seines and land a flopping multitude on the bank. There is a place at East Taunton where the river at times becomes so crowded with herring as almost to suggest the pos- sibility of walking across it on the silvery-gray backs of its animated pavement. The story of the Taunton man who, on being asked where he was from, would show by the way he inflected his reply, Taunton, good Lord, whether there was a good run of herring that year, must be put alongside the story of Miss Pooles peck of beans. The brick and the herring, although still sources of revenue, were long ago overshadowed and reduced to compar- ative insignificance by other forms of business. A bar of iron and a vessel would be far more symbolical of the real industries of the town. The iron industry, begun by some of the early settlers and continued without inter- ruption to the present time, makes one of the most interesting chapters of Taunton history. As early as 1643 the manufacture of bar iron from na- tive ore commenced at Lynn, and soon afterwards at Braintree; and the dis- covery of iron ore on the banks of the Two Mile River in Taunton led to the establishment of a bloomerie at the spot on the Raynham road still known as the Anchor Forge. Owing to the preparations necessary, it was not till 1656 that the manufacture of iron actually commenced there; and, as the works at Lynn and Braintree were TAUNTON RIVER AT THE WEIR. TAUNTON, AN OLD COLONY TOWN. 81 presently discontinued, the Taunton bloomery may be considered the first permanent successful iron works in the United States. Other furnaces soon followed in various parts of the town, as at Whittenton, Westville and East Taunton. The iron works were so favorably regarded by the Ply- mouth government, that in 1655 and again in 1662 the men employed in them were exempted from military duty unless in special emergencies. And it is a curious fact that bar iron at Taunton was for many years used in the place of money as a medium of exchange. There is in existence an order for iron as money which was drawn by one of the founders of Taun- ton in payment of his grocery bill. The establishment at Anchor Forge with its three skilled workmen was a bumble beginning for the vast plants which Taunton possesses to-day. The plant of the Mason Machine Works, for example, which is devoted to the building of cotton machinery alone, covers a floor space of more than nine acres, and the works employ, when running full, about a thousand men. The excellence of their product has won the praise of the highest authority on textile machinery in England, and orders for specimens of it have been received even from Russia and Italy. The manufacture of tacks and nails forms one of the largest branches of the iron industry in the town; while in stoves and stove ware, owing to the rapid increase in recent years, Taun- ton is one of the foremost cities in the country. With the accumulated ex- perience of nearly two centuries and a half in the making of iron goods, it is not surprising that the annual product, which at the beginning of this century was only 1,500 tons, should now exceed in value two million dollars. But iron is not the only metal which figures in the industries of the town. Copper has filled, and still fills, a large place. Perhaps by its copper Taun- ton has touched the pocket-books of the nation more widely, if not more heavily, than in any other way; for, during the reign of copper money, the works at Taunton supplied annually to the United States government fifty thousand dollars worth of planchets or blank discs, which were shipped to the mints and there stamped as the red cent of our fathers. In the line of britannia and silver ware, by far the largest plant in town, and the oldest of the kind in the coun- try, is that of Reed & Barton, on Mill River, about a mile from the Green. These works cover about six acres of flooring in a ten-acre lot, and afford employment to five or six hundred persons, including some of the most skilled workers in metal in the world. In addition to the britannia ware, which was formerly their chief prod- uct, hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of the richest patterns of sterling silver, as well as electro-plated white metal and nickel-silver ware, of every sort and description, go out from these factories into every part of the country and into foreign lands. The above-named firms and many of the other flourishing enterprises of Taunton, including the cotton industry and all the banks but one, took their origin in the first half of this century; and, under the impulse thus given, business has expanded to its present large dimensions, till we may count nearly two hundred business enter- prises in the town. At the beginning of the century the population of Taun- ton was only 3,860. This nearly doubled in forty years; and in the next twenty yearsfrom 1840 to i86o the population more than doubled again, while the ratable valuation nearly quadrupled in the same time; and then came the temporary check of the Civil War. The ratable valua- tion of Taunton to-day is more than $19,000,000, while its real valuation, according to a prominent business man whose knowledge of the citys financial condition entitles his opinion to great weight, could hardly be stated on a conservative estimate as less than $30,000,000, or more than $i,ooo for every man, woman and child in town. 82 TAUNTON, AN OLD COLONY TOWN. Probably, he says, the amount would be considerably larger. In comparing city with city, the pop- ulation as indicated by numbers is no sure criterion of the character of the place or of the amount of business done. Tauntons manufactures, deal- ing so largely with the metals, and requiring skilled work, bring in a class of men who are well paid, thrifty, have homes of their own, and take their place among the best and most intelli- gent citizens. The value of the prod- uct of such manufactures is far greater, in proportion to the number of persons employed, than would be the case in some other forms of business. The cost of the iron and silver plants is enormous. The same capital invested, for example, in the manufacture of shoes would require more than ten times the number of employees with- out adding correspondingly to the val- uation of business in dollars and cents. The first mill for making cotton goods was erected near the bridge at the corner of Weir and Hill Streets in i8o6; and to-day, with the Whittenton Mills, employing 1,500 persons, the Cohannet and other vast establish- ments of the sort, it is evident that the cotton industry of Taunton has grown to immense proportions. And it is still growing. Only a short time ago a large mill was built at the Weir, and another at East Taunton; and still one more is contemplated for the latter place;each new mill, of the dimen- sions required nowadays, probably meaning the addition of a thousand persons to the population. But we must not forget the shipping. A stranger might not at once suspect, from the general appearance of things, that Taunton has any special interest in this branch of industry. The Weir is the port of Taunton and lies about a mile south of the Green. There Coram had his shipyard as early as 1699, and vessels have been built at various times at other points along the river. The people established a lot- tery, by authority from the General Court granted in 1760, in order to raise money for clearing the river of rocks and shoals; but the rocks were too many even for a lottery, and in recent times, besides the expenditure by individuals interested, the general government has spent $250,000 for the same purpose without leaving the work complete. Shipbuilding is now dis- continued, but the shipping interest has so greatly increased that the people of Taunton own a combined tonnage which is said to exceed that of any coastwise shipping list in any other New England city. The United States engineer who has charge of the waters in this vicinity is quoted as saying recently: The Taunton River has been under improvement by the general government since 1870, and now allows vessels of eleven feet, at high water, to reach Taunton; and this river now carries an annual commerce of $4,600,000. This, it should be noticed, is additional to the large amount of traffic carried by the rail- road. If Taunton shows a lack of public spirit in some directions, there is evi- dence enough that it has been alert in discovering business opportunities, and that its business record has been exceptionally fine. We have noticed the quickness with which it saw the value of the iron industry at the very start; it was also the first place in the country to manufacture silver ware and the yellow sheathing metal used on ship bottoms; the first in New Eng- land, and one of the first in the country, to make crucibles; and the first daily paper in the Commonwealth south of Boston was the Taunton Gazette. Some of the contracts of the United States government have been placed with business firms of Taunton, as in the case of the copper planchets; mus- kets were made here during the Civil War; and for over fifty years the Phcenix Manufacturing Company has made crucibles for the government. Much of the surplus capital of the city of Taunton, owing t& the same spirit of business enter- prise, has found investment in the TAUNTON, AN OLD COLONY TOWN. 83 manufactories of New Bedford, Fall River and Brockton. From a business point of view the city is very comfortably fixed, with the number and variety of its manu- facturescotton machinery, boilers, stoves and furnaces, printing presses, nails, britannia and silver ware, stone ware pottery, oilcloth, cotton goods, shoe buttons, crucibles, paper, brick, carriages, etc.; and with its $io,ooo,ooo or so in the banks and elsewhere im- mediately available for loans, Taunton is much better prepared than most places of the same size to endure a strain, unless everything should fail at once, which is not likely. With the change from town to city government in 1865, making the thir- teenth city charter in the Common- wealth, the way was open for more orderly methods in the conduct of pub- lic affairs; and the influence of the change was soon felt in the better police and fire arrangements, a more liberal expenditure for the schools, a free public library and a new system of water supply. The business capacity which has built up the industries of the town is manifest also in the management of the public finances. Taunton is one of the cities which actually pay a pro rata part of their debt each year by a sink- ing fund; no debt is refunded or re- newed but paid promptly at maturity; and Springfield is the only other city in the state of Massachusetts whose debt is as small in proportion to the valuation. During the panic of 1893 a fact which will illustrate the towns financial stabilityno manufacturers in Taunton were obliged to stop busi- ness for lack of banking facilities either in the way of loans or of cash to meet their weekly pay rolls; and the city corporation carried on all its work as usual, without discharging a single employee from any of its departments, or once failing to make payments in cash. The efficiency of the fire and water departments ought to make insurance rates in Taunton extremely low. The Holly system of water-works, with direct pumping, is employed, and the hydrants so liberally distributed throughout the town are each of them, for fire purposes, equal to a fire-engine with the steam up. Such is the effi- ciency of the fire department that since the introduction of water in 1877 there has never been a fire, within the fire limits, which has passed beyond the original building in which it caught; and this is the more remarkable when it is considered that Taunton is so largely composed of wooden build- ings. Indeed, if ones aesthetic sense alone were to be consulted, the fire and water departments might seem alto- gether too efficient; for they make it quite impossible for some of the old traps of buildings, which here and there disfigure the place, to withdraw from sight by any process of combus- tion more rapid than that of gradual decay. Taunton does not yet rejoice in the possession of many fine public build- ings of its own. But within a few years the repairing or building of busi- ness blocks and other structures has added greatly to the good appearance of the place. Anyone who should revisit the Green to-day after an ab- sence of ten or even five years would be surprised at the transformation which the scene around it has under- gone. The most conspicuous object is the new granite court house, which with its furnishings Cost about $300,- 000, and in which court was held for the first time about a year ago; while on another side of the square the new postoffice, for which the people have prayed and waited long, is in proces& of becoming as conspicuous and valu- able as it can on a government appro- priation of $75,000. Among the buildings of special note in Taunton is the jail, for which home- like structure the burghers of Bristol County paid $i6o,ooo. With its quiet, retiring aspect, and its well kept grounds and vine-covered walls, it looks actually inviting, and not at aU like a place of detention. 84 TAUNTON, AN OLD COLONY TOWN. The State Asylum, known in offi- cial records by the unadorned title of Taunton Lunatic Hospital, is a group of massive buildings, on a slight ele- vation, whose cupolas stand out against the sky, and underneath whose roofs is the home of nearly a thousand persons. The grounds about the in- stitution comprise a hundred and forty acres, and with their groves and fields, their shaded walks and drives, their lawns and river bank, afford one of the most healthful and beautiful locations in the whole town, if not in the state. Morton Hospital, near the Green, is a small private institution for general medical service; it is supported by the citizens, and makes one of Tauntons most popular and deserving charities. Hospital Sunday in the churches brings it a generous contribution. The building, the gift of a woman, was formerly the residence of Marcus Mor- ton, who was twice elected governor of Massachusettsonce by the people and once by the legislature. Of other buildings, including churches, school houses and fine resi- dences in different parts of the town, the scope of this article forbids particu- lar mention. A word in regard to the religious and educational interests of the place will bring the article to a close. Public worship in Taunton, as everywhere in the Old Colony, was about the first thing provided for. What brought the Pilgrims across the sea was a religious motive; and the all-prevailing argument for the forma- tion of new towns out of Tauntons original territory, when public worship was supported by the taxpayers, was distance from the house of God. For more than a century and a half there was but a single church in place of the forty now occupying the same territory. Thomas Coram looked into the future, and he left certain landed property in the hands of trus- tees for the benefit of an Episcopal church if ever henceforth the inhabi- tants of Taunton should be more civi- lized than they now are. Coram had his doubts about them, and employed the attorney general at Boston to pre- pare his deed amply strong and in due form that none of the crafty New Eng- landers might find a flaw in it, de- claring rather pointedly that he knew what sort of folks the major part of the inhabitants of Taunton then were. He made the vestrymen of the Epis- copal church in Boston his trustees, but evidently did not know what sort of folks they were; for, although Taunton became civilized enough in time to establish the new church, it never benefited by Corams bequest; his trustees sold the lands and appro- priated every dollar of the proceeds to the rebuilding of Kings Chapel, Bos- ton. Rev. William Hook, Tauntons first minister, was an Oxford graduate and a man of more than ordinary ability and culture in his profession. His house stood on the site of the present city hall. He was called from Taun- ton to New Haven, where he remained twelve years, and then returned to England to accept the office of chap- lain in the household of his kinsman, Oliver Cromwell. Mrs. Hook was the sister of Whalley, the regicide; and this connection may account for the fact that Whalley and Goffe found welcome and refuge in the City of Elms. Rev. Josiah Crocker seems to have been a noted preacher in his day. On one occasion a woman undertook to travel all the way from Plymouth, with her baby in her arms, in order to hear him; and when the way seemed long, she would comfort herself though it is less certain about the baby by crying out, Crockers ahead! Crockers ahead ! Such enthusiasm for sermons has considerably abated since then. Mr. Crocker was a staunch friend of Whitefield and, in spite of much opposition, allowed the great English evangelist to occupy his pulpit. It was in 1792, up to which time the church had been one, that a large number withdrewleaving the prop- TAUNTON, AN OLD COLONY TOWN. 85 erty and only four church members behindand formed the church at Westville, the church which enjoys the distinction of having organized the first Sunday school in Bristol County. To-day the principal denominations are represented in Taunton, some of them by several churches, and about one-quarter of the population is Roman Catholic. The twenty-one churches, exclusive of the chapels in various parts of the town, afford a seating capacity for over Io,5oo per- sons. About two years ago a min- isterial union was formed, including all the Protestant clergymen of Taun- ton and some from neighboring towns, and the ease with which denomina- tional differences in this matter have yielded to considerations of practical Christianity has enabled the clergy- men and their churches to exert a stronger influence than ever before on the moral and municipal welfare of the place. The new Young Mens Chris- tian Association and the various or- ganized charities are other channels through which the Christian spirit finds expression. The first teacher in Taunton assisted in ordaining the first minister; and church and school have supplemented each others work all the way along. Bristol Academy, with its fine record of more than a hundred years, still flourishes; it was incorporated in 1792, and General Cobb was so active in its support as to win from the trustees the designation of patron and founder. Both the academy and the excellent high school draw pupils from neigh- boring towns. Taunton has $32o,ooo invested in public school property, em- ploys a superintendent and about one hundred and ten teachers, and for the ordinary school expenses of the last year appropriated $89,000. Wheaton Seminary, associated with the name of Lucy Larcom, is located at Norton, in what was a part of Taun- tons North Purchase. For the past sixty years it has exerted an influence on the educational life of Taunton; and to-day, with its excellent corps of teachers, its able lecturers on special topics, an(l its increased facilities, it is one of the best institutions in the country for the education of young women. Taunton has its Congregational Club and its Unitarian Club, its lit- erary classes, its occasional university extension and other lectures, its ad- mirably selected library of over 40,000 volumes, including a fine reference library and reading room; and one of the distinctive features of its intel- lectual life, although such festivals as Carl Zerrahn for a long time con- ducted here are at present discontin- ued, is its interest in music. It may be added in the way of post- scriptand postscripts generally pick up something which has slipped out of its proper placethat the famous Dighton Writing Rock, which for gen- erations has been an object of interest to scholars, lies in what was Tauntons South Purchase, on the edge of the river opposite the village of Dighton. It used to be thought that the inscrip- tion was placed there by Thorfinn and his Norsemen, but the responsibility has finally been laid upon the Algon- quin Indians. The Rock was pur chased for Ole Bull, the celebrated vio linist, by a Mr. Niels Aruzen, of Fall River, in 1857; it afterwards became the property of the Royal Society of Northern Antiquities of Copenhagen, and the vessel which the Danish gov- ernment dispatched to bring the rock to Denmark, was suddenly recalled, after reaching New York, by the out- break of war; the rock was then placed in charge of the Scandinavian Me- morial Club of Boston, and it was proposed to remove it to that city; but finallythe rock remaining all the while undisturbed in the spot where the Creator had put itthe title to it, and to its inscription, and to its mys- tery, was conveyed to the Old Colony Historical Society at Taunton, and there it will probably rest. MEMORIES OF BLUEMEADOW. II. OUR OLD RECTOR. By Charlotte Lyon. UR dear Dr. Long! For forty- seven years he christened us, he married us, he buried us; he led his confirmation class annually to the bishop. St. Johns, Bluemeadow,was his first parish; there he came long before I was born,before the little white wooden church was built, which was afterwards replaced by a hand- some stone structure. Old Mr. Mer- chant, an Englishman and staunch churchman, and Mrs. Jack Ball, a lady of property and great energy, founded the Episcopal parish in this lit- tle New England town, where hitherto Puritanism had reigned alone. The first services were held in the Court House; and the Reverend Philemon Long, then a young man in deacons orders, was sent for to build up a par- ish, and spent his days among the same people. He was a tall, large man of stately appearance. When I was a little girl, I always supposed that our Saviour looked exactly like Dr. Long, then a man in his prime. His long flowing robes, his smoothly shaven and benig- nant face, bore a resemblance to the pictures of Christ in our great Bible; and it does not seem so foolish a thought to me now as it once did, that this saintly follower of his should so represent him to the innocent imag- ination of a child. How well I remember the old church, though the new one was built almost forty years ago. It was like all the Episcopal churches in New England country towns at that date, a white wooden building, a long paral- lelogram in shape, with a small square turreted tower and mullioned win- dows, pointed at top, with green blinds, a combination of the Gothic architecture and the Nexv England meeting-house, the Gothic being ex- pressed by the pointed green blinds and front door. The organ was a queer little old structure, bought sec- ond-hand from another church in a larger town and previously imported from England. Two stout gilt cher- ubs poised each on one foot blew gilt trumpets on its top. Miss Martha Merchant was long the organist, and used to throw back her green veil gracefully and place her mittened hands, sparkling with old-fashioned rings, on the keys, while the choir drew the little red curtains which par- tially screened them and sang the old tunes and anthems. Miss Merchant had a harpsichord, which her father had bought for her in England, and used to delight our child- ish ears with The Young Lochinvar and the Battle of the Nile and the Highland Laddie, when we went to visit her on weekdays and were regaled with jumbles from the parlor cup- board. We thought she played the organ beautifully, though it some- times embarrassed her in its old age by doubtful and unexpected squeaks and wheezes, perhaps owing to the shortcomings of Garvey Steele, the village simpleton, who blew the bel- lows. The arrangement of the chancel would have shocked a ritualist of the present time. The communion table stood in the foreground, a small pine table covered and draped with red moreen. Immediately behind it was the reading desk, a huge pen of mahogany, with faded red velvet cushions, on which reposed the great Bible and prayer book. Towering above and behind the reading desk was the pulpit, also of dark mahogany, octagonal in shape, ascended by a long 86 MEMORIES OF BLUEMEADOW. 87 carpeted staircase pith mahogany rail. Behind these were the com- mandments affixed to the wall, en- graved upon what I never doubted then were the original two tables of stone given to Moses. These were flanked, as is still customary, by the Creed and Lords Prayer, and there were various little tablets here and there about the church, inscribed with texts of Scripture. The bishops chair was a beautiful antique carved one; I wonder now where it came from, and where it has gone. I re- member how one Christmas eve, when the church was very crowded, a stout matron from the outlying dis- tricts, evidently not a churchwoman, who knew nothing of bishops and chancels, after standing until she was weary, with great final decision seated herself in it and beamed complacently on the astonished congregation un- molested through the whole sermon. Great was the excitement at Christ- mas-tide when the church was dressed with greens. Then the woods were scoured for laurel and hemlock and loads of ground pine, and maids and matrons lent their aid to twine them into wreaths. This afforded a fine opportunity for flirtations, for clasp- ing of hands surreptitiously, for moonlight walks home after it was over for the night, sometimes for a coasting or skating party to follow. In those days, as Mrs. Stowe has chronicled in her Poganuc People, there was a great prejudice against the Church in New England, and the celebration of Christmas was looked upon as popish and reprehen- sible. Especially the lovely ushering in of the holy day by the Christmas- eve service excited the righteous in- dignation of the unconverted chil- dren of the Puritans, who, not being professors themselves, felt warranted in executing violence upon those who held differing religious views. I can remember the excitement when the little church, lighted and garlanded, crowded with people and echoing with the anthems and with the old hymn, While shepherds watched their flocks by night, was assailed by roughs from without, who yelled,. threw stones at the Gothic windows, and tried to force the locked door, where some of the wardens and vestry acted the part of the church militant and kept guard inside. Dr. Long, calm and undismayed, went on with the service and sermon, his clear, sonorous voice reading the lessons as he only could read them,for I never heard his simple, noble rendering of the sacred book surpassed. The church was warmed by a big box stove, the pipe of which, divided in twain, traversed the whole length of the side aisles to the little chimneys at the rear end, sometimes dropping black and noisome spots on the best bonnets of the good matrons, from the deposit made by green wood. All the wise and prudent carried little tin footstoves to church in cold weather, filled with coals and hot ashes, whereby the vital warmth was pre- served amid the arctic frigidity of remote pews. We went to church at half-past one for the afternoon service, that the parishioners from the north part of the town and the meadows might get home in time for evening chores. In summer we had Sunday School at nine a. in., but in winter the numbers were too small to make it practicable. On Communion Sundays the doctor catechised the children in the after- noon, before the whole congregation, as we stood before the chancel in a wavering and restless row. There was suppressed giggling when a new recruit with great literalness answered the first question, What is your name? by replying, N. or M., and much admiration when the bishop at his pastoral visit catechised us himself, filling us with awe, and especially commending little Annie Merchant, a child of seven, who glibly recited my duty to my neighbor without a mis- take,that long, long answer, hard to remember, and harder, far harder, alas! to obey all through life. 88 HEAJORIES OF BLUEMEADO W. There were two square corner pews at the back, assigned to the negroes of the parish. The front pews were then most.fashionable. Here sat the large families of Judge Holcomb and Dr. Wood, the two church wardens, they themselves sitting in high seats of honor near the door in little boxes like a sheriffs, furnished each with a long pole wherewith to rap the heads of in- attentive litttle boys. In front, too, sat the descendants of Mr. Merchant and Mrs. Jack Ball, who had them- selves long slumbered in the old burying ground beneath epitaphs of commendation. But when the rich Mr. Knapp retired from business in New York and came home to his native hills, which he had left as a poor boy, to dazzle us with his splen- dors, he took one of the negro pews and fitted it up for his own use. He lined it with red moreen studded with brass nails, put a carpet rich and rare on the floor and a little table in the centre, together with much plenishing of prayer-books and hassocks. Here his handsome wife and his many olive branches gathered Sunday after Sun- day; and the young men of the parish, some of Puritan fathers, who had been attracted by the mildness of Episco- pacy and the gentle graces of Dr. Long to be regular worshippers, took the opposite corner pew and fitted it up in similar style, with green moreen by way of originality. On the church door was the notice board, whereon intentions of mar- riage were hereby made public by Mr. Nevitt, the town clerk, according to law. On our way home from school, kept by Miss Nevitt next door, we would skip up the church steps to read these interesting docu- ments, and sometimes vary the recre- ation by a peep at the bier, through a cellar window in the dark precincts beneath the church. just behind the church was the rec- tory, a plain, unpainted, old-fashioned house, black with wind and weather, bright and cheery within. There was the large front parlor where Dr. Long held his Saturday evening Bible class, and where the bishop sat when he made his pastoral visit in May. Back of this was the family keepingroom,~~ as it was called, with a southerly as- pect, a big open fireplace, and a door which opened into the side yard. Its broad, flat, stone step, fringed with cinnamon rose bushes, was a pleasant seat on a summer afternoon. Here the big Maltese cat would let herself in, by jumping up and striking her paw on the latch. She would come swinging into the keepingroom~~ in cold weather, leaving the door wide open with the selfish indifference of a cat, to stretch her great bulk before the fire. She was nearly twenty years old and as big as a small dog. Mrs. Longs bed room opened out of the keeping-room, the floor covered with an old Turkey carpet, a piece of decayed magnificence from the break- ing-up of Mrs. Jack Balls housekeep- ing. At the annual Parish Party they used to take down Mrs. Longs bed, and set the tea tables in both bed room and keeping-room. In the latter, Dr. Long wrote his sermons. His little desk and well worn books of reference stood beside the fire. There the sermons were written with a goose quill on foolscap, in his clear, old-fashioned hand, divided into heads and winding up with habitual phrases, so that when Dr. Long said, God Almighty grant, my friends, that such may not be our fate, there would be a little rustle in the gallery, a preliminary wheeze of the organ bel- lows, for the closing hymn about to be given out. The keeping-room was the living place of his little family in the winter, when their frugal habits permitted only one fire. This was constructed alxvays on scientific principles by the good clergymans own hands,the back-log of green walnut for heat and permanence, the fore-stick of black birch for fragrance and lightsomeness, the cat-sticks artistically piled on top, with big chips in their interstices. The clean swept hearth and bright MEMORIES OF BLUEMEADOW. 89 andirons made the Franklin stove a charming domestic rallying point on gloomy days. iVIiss Mary, the doc- tors daughter, a pretty, buxom girl, then plump and merry, had her little low seat by the south xvindow, where her pretty hands stitched her fathers shirt bosoms and hemmed his muslin bands with dainty stitches. She was just enough older than I to be my Sunday-school teacher, and I looked up to her with much reverence ; but as the days wore on we grew nearer of an age, and loved to sit together of an afternoon on the old door-steps in feminine confidence. Her soft blue eyes have been dimmed with many tears since those days,twice wid- owed, and bearing lifes many changes and chances, as the sweet old collect says. Dr. Long used to read Shake- speare to us in the winter evenings, after a nice early tea, with Mrs. Longs home-made dainties. He read beautifully, and we used to choose our favorite plays, Julius. C~esar chief among them. When Miss Mary was a little girl, she would say, Now, father, read Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come! That line seemed to her as beautiful as the good old woman in the story found that blessed word Mesopotamia! and Dr. Long often joked her about her early fancy. Dr. Long had a keen sense of humor, and an equally quick sensitiveness to the sublime and pathetic. How much I owe to him for interpreting to me the great masters creations at such an early age! He was a graduate of Dartmouth College, and used the pronunciation now obsolete. He said Rooshey and Prooshey and Ashey and Marthey, and con- tended that final a should be flat and short, as his Alma Mater taught. On Saturday nights the Bible class gathered in the large front parlor, where the modern innovation of an air-tight stove imparted a gloom in high contrast to the sparkling fire in the keeping-room. Matrons and maids, and a sprinkling of young men, attended these lessons. Dr. Long sat by the table, which held the great Bible and a pair of brass candlesticks and snuffer tray, in the seat of honor, a high backed rocking-chair with chintz covers, while his class was closely ranged around the walls in rush-bottomed or wooden chairs. The lessons were of most simple char- acter; no lesson papers were needed to make them profitable. We went through the Gospels and the Acts in regular course, taking a chapter each time, the doctor asking questions of all, old and young in order, explaining as he went, and ending with brief com- ments and prayer for Gods blessing on the lesson. Good seed sown in those days and little heeded in the light- hearted carelessness of youth has sprung up and borne fruit since, and doubtless some whom the doctor thought but stony soil have yielded abundant harvest. The great event of the year in the parish of St. Johns was the annual Parish Party. It was not called a do- nation party in those days, though the festival was made the occasion of gifts and offerings to the pastor, which eked out his slender salary. It took place always after Easter, and as soon as the mildness of the weather would permit the children to play out of doors, generally a little after the middle of April. The scent of arbutus brings always vividly to mind with me still this simple festival, then a delight unspeakable. Ten years of age was the. appointed minimum of admission the maximum was unlimited. It was anticipated and prepared for days beforehand. Mrs. Long cleaned house previously, and the rag carpet in the keeping-room and the faded Turkey in the bed room adjoining were taken up, and not relaid till after the party, that the supper table and all its accompanying tramping might not be injurious to their well being. The matrons afid maids assembled early in the morning and laid an shaped table in the larger and a long 90 MEMORIES OF BLUEMEADOW. table in the smaller room, bringing with them abundant plates, cups, tea- spoons, etc., from neighboring houses. There was great rivalry in providing immaculate frosted cakes of various shapes, and these were trimmed with wreaths of ground pine and arbutus. There was the sponge cake for which Mrs. Knapp and Mrs. Merchant were famous, and the butter, sweet and golden, which Mrs. Short, the wife of the village blacksmith, made ingeni- ouslv into the form of pine-apples, carving with the handle of a teaspoon the little scales and tufted tops of that fruit. A boiled or baked custard in a cup was set by each plate, and deli- cious hot biscuit and little relishes of dried beef in plenty were provided. The tea and coffee were made in the kitchen under the supervision of Mrs. Straw, a zealous parishioner, who was the main stay of court parties and other village ceremonials, and equally expert at cooking, and bearing huge trays of viands around best parlors, in the fashion of the day. How simple was all the feasting, yet how rich and profuse it seemed then! As one good lady said in describing it, it was per- fectly magnanimous! In the best front parlor the elder people began to assemble about two oclock. Farmers came driving in from the meadows and Montgom- ery City just over Great River, in wagons with buffalo robes thrown over the springless uncushioned seats to mitigate their hardness. Their pa- tient nags stood hitched to posts in the street all the afternoon, with a bundle of hay for refreshment. It was never known to rain on parish- party day within the memory of man, but there was always a bright south- erly sun, a soft breeze, and dandelion sprinkled grass in the yard of the par- sonage. The good wives were ranged around the parlor walls, very upright, in best caps and company manners, and the good men clustered at the door-ways and discussed the spring work, the sugar crop, and the crit- ters. A little later the ladies of the parish who lived in the village arrived. These were termed Street folks by their country neighbors, and were sus- pected of being proud, so that it was necessary to be very circumspect and conciliatory in the social amenities of the occasion. The children, the girls in new spring frocks, with hair in neatly plaited pig tails, the boys in wide frillssheepish at first and bois- terous later,were relegated to the side yard and the front chamber for the sports of the afternoon. The side yard was shady and pleasant, and contained an old well with a well- sweep and oaken bucket, whose waters were cool and sweet as those in the well by the gate of Jerusalem for which King David longed when he was sick. The front chamber had a great four- post bedstead with curtains of large- flowered chintz, and a curious spin- dle-legged dressing-table and high chest of drawers. Here hung a fam- ily record, framed and glazed, which we stood in one of the old claw-footed chairs to read. There were the names not only of Miss Mary, and her younger brother Charlie,. and the two young men who had gone out into the world from the old house before my memory, but also of the five dead chil- dren, who to us then were as dead as the Pharaohs. We never realized how recent to our dear pastor, and how unforgotten were these sorrows. There were the names of the two boys who had died the same week, of dysen- tery. There was another Mary and an Elizabeth, whose united names were borne by Miss Mary, and the oldest child of all the nine, who had died at fourteen and who was named Elvira, Eliverer I called it, and named my favorite doll after her, it being a new and euphonious name to me when I read it there. Long after, when I was older, and my little brother died, in the family sorrow dear Dr. Long came every day bringing heal- ing to our hearts in his gentle and pious sympathy. He said, I remem- ber when my children died, how I used to wish that the years would roll on, MEMORIES OF BLUEMEADOW. 91 for I felt that time alone could take away my pain. It was the first time that it ever occurred to me that Eliv- erer and the boys and the first Mary and Elizabeth were more real than the dream children of Charles Lamb; that they who had interested me just as Cinderella and the little girls in our Sunday-school books did had been live children a short time ago, whose loss had rent the hearts of their parents. How he must have mourned for his own darlings, who loved all children so well, I know now. But to return to the Parish Party. As tea time approached (the early hour of five xvas the regular appointed one), the crowd in the best parlor and the little entry increased. The up- stairs rooms, too, were full, and every one had inspected and commented upon the presents. The little round table in the front parlor held the choic- est. There were generally two or three gown patterns, as they were called, for Mrs. Long and Miss Mary. French calicoes were the genteel thing then for afternoon wear in summer, and cost seventy-five cents a yard. Miss Phyllis Colt, the vil- lage milliner, always sent a cap to Mrs. Long as her gift, with deep borders of real lace and bows of gauze ribbon. The large square neck-handkerchiefs (now revived) of colored silk were usually among these offerings; fine cotton hose, and kid gloves, and such useful gear. Upstairs, in the broad part of the entry, two or three boards supported on barrels bore the sub- stantial tokens of the farmers good will. There were great baskets of eggs, well smoked hams, white beans, sweet butter and maple sugar, and such plain comforts, while a barrel or two of flour were rolled into the kitchen pantry. How little it all seems now, and how trying it must have been to that sweet and refined gentleman sometimes to accept nig- gardly gifts ostentatiously given! But the widows mitewas his as well, and the fervent love with which other gifts, humble yet willing, were sent, had their compensating effect. When the hour of five struck, the elders of the company were all seated at the long table in the keeping room,Dr. Wood and Judge Hol- comb, the two church wardens, with their wives, Mr. and Mrs. Knapp, Mr. and Mrs. Short, Mr. and Mrs. Price, and other mature and dignified parish- ioners, age taking precedence as well as station, the pillars of the little church. They are all gone long ago, who sat at that first table; their faces are seen no more in Bluemeadow, where strange ones now meet my in- quiring gaze. But in the old bury- ing ground we read their names on the stones, which have grown, oh, so many! since then. There lies the Bluemeadow which I knew once, old men who were gray, young men and strong, fair maids too, and young wives who went early to rest. It seems more real to me now, this village of the dead, than the living one of to-day. When the elders were seated, a great silence prevailed, that all might hear the rectors annual address. He stood, to read it, in the doorway, be- tween the parlor and the keeping- room, while the little front entry and doorways were crowded with listen- ers, and Mrs. Straw with flushed face from her coffee making stood in the kitchen door in best cap, black silk gown and white apron, keenly appre- ciative and intelligent here, as in her humbler pursuits. The soft wind stole in and wafted the scent of arbutus over the simple, reverent assembly. The rector was extremely happy on these occasions in his address, and never tedious. In fine, pure English he welcomed his people, thanked God that they were again permitted to meet together and to repeat so many times this festival. He spoke briefly. of the changes, sad and happy, which the year had brought, and closed with a few original verses, which were greatly enjoyed and admired. After a short prayer and a grace before meat said, the rector sat down, 92 MEMORIES OF BLUEMEADOW. and the feast began. The young girls of the parish acted as brisk waiters, bringing tea and coffee and handing the cakes and other viands. Then the first table rose, and was suc- ceeded by two more sets of adults; at the fourth table the children were served, boys on one side, girls on the other, prim and embarrassed, yet gig- gling, and all desiring to taste every kind of cake. Last of all, the wait- ers were served, by some of the elder ladies, and Mrs. Straw then sat down with them to enjoy herself. She had a ready wit and many stories; and Granny, as she was fondly called, for she had nursed half the parish, was a great addition to the merriment of the young folks. As soon as tea was well over, the singing began. Old Mrs. Cole and the people from the medders loved to hear the old hymnsChina with its beautiful wail, and Windham and Mear and many others now for- gotten. The young men upstairs would begin afterwards with some sec- ular songs, Sparkling and Bright, and To Greece we give our shining blades; and a few games of forfeits would be played in the spare chamber. The children and the farmers from a distance went home at dark, and by nine oclock all was over. Dr. Long was worn ont with greeting and hand- shaking, and he and his good wife were left to much needed repose. How innocent, how sweet it all seems as it lingers now in memorys cham- bers! More than forty years ago it ended, after forty such annual gather- ings. Miss Mary married in her yonth a naval officer who died at sea, leaving her to retnrn to the old parsonage, as we called it, with her two little boys, with only a small pension to live upon. The economies of the little family were more strict than ever after this. ]3ut the little grandsons were a great delight to their grandfather. Georgie, the yonngest, full of pranks and rognery, gave endless trouble; but Dr. Long told his bright sayings with pride,how at three years old he was canght preaching alone to an audience of chairs, repeat- ing loudly to them, Damnation! the devil! damnation! adding in a monitory tone, Now, my peoples, I may say these words cause Im a min- ister, but yon mustnt say them cause theys bad words; how, being denied some tacks to play with, he knelt down, and was found rising from his knees with radiant countenance, say- ing, I prayed to God for some tacks,~ just as his grandfather, having re- lented, was entering the room with the coveted articles; how he defied his grandmother in such a funny way that she could not withstand him; and how he escaped from the family pew in summer time to help grandpa preach and was pursued around the pulpit by his distressed mother, while preparing, as he afterwards stated, tQ recite, When the moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow. When Georgie had the scarlet fever and his life was barely saved, his grandfather suffered tortures of anxiety; but the boy lived, and lives still, and the dear rector was spared that sorrow. In his daily life the good man was most simple. After the manner of the country clergy of his day, he worked in his little garden. There his peas and beans, his corn and his squashes, grew on each side of the borders, where pinks and sweet-williams, dwarf-roses and daffodils, tulips and primroses, in their season made a gay brightness. He sawed his own wood, and made his own fire. He might be seen of a summer morning going down to the Bank to read the daily New York paper (then a rare luxury), attired in the favorite summer gar- ment for gentlemen of his day, a gown of flowered chintz gathered into a yoke at the neck, with large, loose sleeves, and falling in long full breadths to the knees, open in front and floating behind him in the sum- mer breeze as ~he walked. Judge Holcomb wore such a one, and so did Mr. Meadows, in place of a coat, of a MEMORIES OF BLUEMEADOW. 93 hot summer morning, and no one thought them unsuitable. He was a charming guest at all social gatherings, full of good stories and apt quotations, always delightful with young people and children, who felt under no restraint in his presence. In those times the social lines were drawn closely between churches, and there was less visiting between differ- ent denominations than now. But every one loved and respected Dr. Long, and he was on the best of terms with his clerical brethren of other folds. He preached good old-fash- ioned sermons, on sin and repentance and faith, and at stated times doc- trinal sermons (too much neglected now), where the great cardinal points of faith were clearly and well set forth. He was also faithful in his instructions as to all the customs and rites of his own church. In looking back upon his teaching, it seems to me to have been both strong and simple, and well calculated to make true Christians of his people. Our good doctors health began to fail several years before his death. At last he was often unable to preach, and Mr. Meadows, who had succeeded Judge Holcomb as church warden, would read the service and a sermon from some English divine. Dr. Long loved the paraphrase of the seventy- third Psalm, and the verse: My trembling flesh and aching heart Have often failed to succor me, But God shall inward strength impart And my eternal portion be. It always brings him vividly to my mind when it is sung in church. At last he began to show unmistakable signs of failing. His breathing grew labored, his strength less. That ter rible malady, dropsy of the chest, had set in, and he suffered severely. It was his lot to die a death of real mar- tyrdom, and his Christian faith and courage were displayed most heroic- ally to the end. He could neither lie down nor even sit long, without a feel- ing of suffocation, and actually stood sometimes twenty-two out of the twenty-four hours, leaning over the back of a tall chair, supporting himself by the wall. He was cheerful, even jocose at times, his old wit and humor sparkling out amid all his sufferings. One day a country couple came to his house to be married, not knowing his condition. He married them with all his old solemnity and tenderness of manner, in this painful position, lean- ing over the chair; he would not dis- appoint them in their plan of being united by their own minister. Just before he reached this severest state of suffering, the season of the annual Parish Party returned. He insisted upon having it as usual, and for the last time it was held, a solemn feast indeed. Painfully and with diffi- culty he read his annual address and poem, prepared in the intervals of suffering, and blessed his weeping flock, to whom he had indeed been a father for almost a half century. Just as spring was blossoming with summer, he went to his rest. A mod- est tablet in the chancel of the new (now old) stone church bears testi- mony to his virtues and preserves his memory, now fading in the minds of all save a few. We whom he chris- tened and married, and from whose sacred hands we received our first communion shall never forget him, and, if we win heaven at last, shall owe the first direction of our steps thither to him. WHAT THE SMALL TOWN MAY DO FOR ITSELF. by G/rnrles Knowles Bollon. A Swe drive through our beautiful New England towus which lie among the hills and along the wooded streams, it is difficult to be- lieve that these peaceful homes pro- duce more murderers in proportion to the number of inhabitants than our largest cities. Yet this is the case. Where an angry word is the chief event of a month, it assumes a magni- tude it could never have in the life of a man surrounded by his fellows. Soli- tude gives too much occasion for self- analysis and for brooding over ones misfortunes and one~ s grievances. Robinson Crusoes safety lay in his mental activity; and it is his example in this that is needed in our country towns. One hundred years ago the isolated farmer spent his winters as a cordwainer, a broom-maker, or a cooper. But the cities have absorbed these industries and the farmer too often passes the long months almost in idleness. The most important step in behalf of the country town is perhaps the establishment of the public library. There are now very few Massachu- setts towns without public libraries. New Hampshire makes it compulsory for her towns to establish libraries; and other states will not be far behind her. Where there is a state board of library commissioners with power tQ direct and aid in establishing town libraries, there certainly should be some one in a place public-spirited enough to claim this assistance. The longer a retreat for de- libraryno eswill then becomethe intel- lectual and social centre of the village. It should have books for serious study and for light reading; it should have a room for exhibitions, lectures and concerts, and another for children. More than all, it should have a con- versation room with an open fireplace. It is a rare New England town which is not the birthplace of some man wealthy enough and willing (if prop- erly approached) to give such a library building. From the library the young people will draw material for a live debating society, the older people material for literary and art clubs. There is noth- ing discussed in Paris, London, New York or Boston which the smallest public library may not know about in a fortnight. The public schools are now foster- ing a method of study popularly known as codrdination. The history, the political science, the art, the poetry of a country grow side by side; more than that, they are interdependent for this growth, and in studying these subjects at the same time children are unravelling the strands of a national fabric. The vitalizing force in this method is, in part, the interest which is awakened in local conditions. When a lady offered a prize for the best essays on the first soldier of Brook- line, Mass., killed in the Revolution, it seemed hardly possible that Irish boys of twelve could grasp the subject. One of the most creditable efforts, however, was a composition written and illustrated by an Irish boy. For the early traits of his hero the boy drew upon the story of Washington, and for his illustration of the soldier drilling before the old orthodox church (long ago torn down) he sketched his oxvn familiar Catholic church. He had the right idea; and the Revolution will always remain as- sociated in his mind with his own town. In the high school a study of national and municipal needs widens and intensifies the interests of every 94 WHAT THE SMALL TOWN MAY DO. 95 scholar. The master of the school discusses each local problem as it arises, and takes both boys and girls to the town meetings, that they may see the same problems argued and voted upon for the final good or hurt of the town itself. In preparing for this, the previous development and cost of maintenance of the various de- partments of schools, police, lighting, street cleaning and watering, etc., are tabulated by the students, who then attempt to explain the fluctuations which appear on these graphic charts. In their debating society, an evening in each year is given to a mock session of some representative body, the city council, the state senate, or the na- tional upper house. These are an educational force as well as a source of entertainment to the whole com- munity. From this same progressive spirit has grown the high school paper, which has printed not only the essays and verses of the students, but also a series of papers by a well known grad- uate, an historical sketch of the school and its alumni by a former master, and an interesting local diary, edited very ably with explanatory notes. As an outcome of this fostering of local interest two prizes for original investigation in local history are now offered each year by a citizen to the senior class in the high school. It has been a surprise to see how much that is new and permanent in value may be gathered together by young people who have had no special train- ing but are spurred on by the novelty of a fresh task. The last year has wit- nessed the rescue from oblivion of a number of quaint anecdotes of the Revolutionary period. And the store of data gathered from rare and un- familiar books or papers seems un- ending. For example, the career of a Continental soldier who was a credit to the town has been thoroughly brought to light, even to the details of his daily habits, in the face of the state- ment made by a local historian that nothing could be found about him.~, This year the stories of our men in the Civil War will be collected. Some of us wondered how these essays could be printed, both for safe keeping and for the benefit of other towns. An historical society often does little more than print addresses of the presidents and obituaries of the members. In such a company the essays would have been lost sight of, or would have been sent down to pos- terity burdened with emendations by the members. At last the following prospectus was drawn up and printed: The Brookline Historical Publication Society. The Brookline Historical Publication Society is organized to collect and print in a uniform series such manuscripts and mate- rial not readily accessible as shall seem worthy of permanent preservation. There shall be a Publication Committee of three to decide upon all matters suggested by the aims of the Society. The object of membership is to provide funds to carry on the work of the Society, and each subscriber of the annual fee of one dollar ($i .oo) will receive free all publications of the Society. MISS Treas. Standing Publication Committee. N. B. Subscriptions may be sent at once to the Treasurer at the Public Library. It may be noted that there are no officers, no elections, no meetings and no rules. What has been the result? Subscriptions have come in so rapidly that we shall print during the first year four publications besides the prize essay which alone it was our first intention to issue. Those already printed are: A letter written in i8io by Rebecca Boylston to her uncle, tell- ing of changes in the town, and of her engagement; the Sharp family papers; and Brookline in the Revolution. The church records, the graveyard inscrip- tions and collections of wills, deeds, etc., will follow. Every town has its letters and its diaries which should be preserved. One lady whom I approached for papers declared that she had nothing 96 DEA TH. of value. After some patient ques- tioning I secured a package of deeds and wills; of these thirteen were dated prior to the year 1700, one of them only thirty years after the coming of the Mayflower. The autographs of Governors Shirley, I3ellingham and Dudley gave them the dignity of history. Our society was started with an outlay of about six dollars for circu- lars and envelopes, besides six hundred one-cent stamps. Each publication of eight pages costs ten dollars for three hundred copies, and a dollar for each one hundred copies extra. A bookseller assures us that when we have enough numbers to make a volume, with title-page and index, he will be able to add to our treasury by further sales. In looking about for support it should be kept in mind that new- comers are as ready to aid such an enterprise as the members of old fam- ilies. The dollar, like the prey of the hunter, often lurks in unexpected places. The result, and to some extent the aim, of intensifying the interest of young people through giving their work a local application, has been an awakening of parents. To secure their more active co6peration with teachers, and to unite every interest which could increase the intellectual activity of the community, the super- intendent of schools initiated the movement which has resulted in the formation of the Brookline Educa- tion Society, with its five hundred members. Already the possibility of a common meeting ground has been found of immense advantage for a better understanding of aims and standards, as well as for the discussion of such questions as proper hygienic conditions, recreation and sleep, with the parents themselves. A closer and better relation between parents and teachers has followed the growing affection and respect between teachers and scholars. During the present winter a course of afternoon historical lectures is be- ing delivered at the high school, open not only to the high school pupils, but to those of the upper grades of the grammar schools. Local history and the Civil War furnish the themes. All these efforts, it will be noticed, have more or less directly served to bind together an increasing number of people, through appealing to their local and social interests. And any methods which do this successfully, especially in our smaller towns, help to produce a healthier and happier community. Brookline is, of course, a peculiarly circumstanced town; there are few where these things could have been started so easily. But, the way once pointed out, there are not many important towns where work like this cannot be done; and there is no town so small or poor that it could not undertake modest things in such directions. Could anything be better to help our country towns to a serious, worthy and entertaining intellectual life? DEATH. By Laura Spencer For/or. ~J FEAR thee not, dark Death, unveil thy hideous face ! Not yet ! Life cries beside me, staying me the while, Until I dim thine eyes, wait thou a little space, Lest thou be blinded by the beauty of Deaths smile ! was the year of our Lord 1782. The quiet, conservative city of Phil- adelphia was slowly re- covering from the disas- trous consequences of the Whig and Tory fac- tions which had torn it asunder during the Revolution; and if peace was not formally declared until the following year, it was at least agreed upon. The more active and helligerent sympathiz- ers with Great Britain were with Sir Henry Clinton in New York, preparing to depart to the mother country whose cause they had espoused, or with attainted names and confiscated estates to live in hanishment in the Canadian Provinces; while the milder loyalists and the neutrals were careful not to offend. So many a pretty Philadel- l)hia helle whose sister had figured in the Mischianza, or had even heen one of the tournament ladies herself, looked forward with much pleasure to dancing the stately minuet with offi- cers wearing the Continental uniform and happy were those whom the advantages of a liheral education had made conversant with the French tongue, for ever since the alliance with France in 1778. Philadelphia had heen enthusiastic in its admiration of Jni~ zi Jji4Aa1a~ ;3a(( L~y ]{uzet ~-IFhZ1S/rO;1O the French, and the town was still filled with foreign officers. But this enthusiasm perhaps reached its climax when the French amhassa- dor, the Chevalier de la Luzerne, sent out invitations for a magnificent hall to he given on the fifteenth of j ulv in honor of the hirth of the Dauphin, which had taken place the preceding Octoher, a few days after the glorious victory of Yorktown. To he invited to this famous fate was the desire of every heart, young and old, for, with perhaps the solitary exception of the Mischianza, no such splendid enter- tainment had ever heen given in America; and if we may helieve the most reliahle authorities, no proper person was left out. For ten days heforehand the Birth- day Ball was the one topic of conver- sation, and hair-dressers were engaged a week in advance to erect those won- derful arrangements of hair and feathers, flowers an(l jewels, which were the delight of the ladies of the last century. Indeed, so great was the oemand that many were ohliged to have their hair dressed hetween the hours of five and six on the morning of the fate, while a few poor ladies were even forced to have their structures raised the clay hefore and to sit up all night in high-hacked chairs. Governor Dickinsons mansion. where the anihassaclor lived, had heen fitted tip in the costliest manner 97 98 THE DAUPHINS BIRTHDAY BALL. for this f& e. A dancing hail sixty feet long was erected next to the house, xvith its roof supported by lofty pillars twined with garlands of roses, and the extensive garden with its beautiful trees and shrubbery, winding walks, grottoes and fountains, illuminated with hundreds of lamps; and as no high walls shut out the view of the uninvited, more than ten thousand per- sons stood outside in the streets that surrounded this garden and enjoyed many of the splendors of that memora- ble evening. At seven oclock the invited guests began to arrive; and as seven hundred invitations had been sent out by the ambassador, everything of that day that was fashionable or notable was represented. Painters and poets, 1)llilosophers, members of Congress, governors from neighboring states, ministers of foreign affairs, the officers of the army and navy, strangers and foreigners, mingled with the belles and beaux whose names may be found on the old Assembly lists. Brilliant uni- forms moved side by side with the sad-colored suit of the wealthy Quaker gentleman. Poor artists and literary men, well brushed but threadbare, enjoyed the scene equally with the fashionable youth in velvet and bro- cade, while the tall, commanding figure of General Washington with his stout little lady attired in splendid brocade divided the honors with the Comte de Rochambean. Mrs. Biugham, the beautiful young leader of society, appeared in a curious but splendid gown of black velvet with pink satin sleeves and stomacher, and over it a skirt of white crf~pe spotted with gray fur, the sides open in front and the edge trimmed with glit- tering paste. But every lady had (lonned her finest gown, and satin damask and brocades, paduasovs and lutestrings rustled and shimmered side by side; while jewels sparkled, feathers nodded, and gay uniforms flashed in the soft but brilliant light of mvriads of candles. At half-past eight the dancing began in the great flower-wreathed pavilion, and the younger guests for- sook the reception rooms and the beautiful garden and hastened their steps to where the violins were giving an invitation to the dance in the solemn, alluring music of the minuet. And here in this ball room, just under the orchestra,the kindly chevalierwho seems to have forgotten no one in his preparations, had built a little room where, from behind a gauze curtain, some gentle Quaker ladies whose dress and scruples kept them from mingling in the gay assembly might yet see the beautiful scene. Around the room seats had been placed for those who were not dancing, and also for the stately dowagers who were chaperoning the pretty dancers; and toward these seats a gentleman (Iressed in a quiet but elegant suit of claret-colored cloth with silver buttons, was seen rather timidly edging his way. At a glance anyone could see that he was both a gentleman and a foreigner; but a certain air of embar- rassment gave also the impression that he Was probably not used to such gay assemblies and had most likely been drawn there by the entreaties of the pretty young girl on his arm, whose slightly parted lips and absorbed man- ner told of the intensity of her enjoyment. He was Monsieur Armand de Lys, a portrait painter of some repute, who also gave lessons in painting and who was much esteemed by his patrons, who smiled and bowed as they pressed by him into the room. But it was strange to see him in such a place, for be had always led a most retired life, and those who had invited him to their houses had always been kindly but firmly refused, at first on account of the delicate health of his wife, and in later years because after her death he had been too sad. His story was one that has been told often before, and will be told aoain so long as the world endures: an imprudent marriage where everything had given way to love. Monsieur de Lys was the younger THE DAUPHiNS BIRTHDAY BALL. 99 ~,, son of the cadet branch of the great family of De Lys. He had refused to enter the army or navy, had no predi- lection for the church, that refuge in those days for im- pecnnious scions of illustrious families, and contrary to the advice of his rela- tives proceeded to 7 devote himself to the I art of painting. A certain felicity in making portraits in- duced him to stndy ~ that branch, and the handsome, well born yonth, with a back- ground of distin- gnished relatives to pnsh him, soon became the fashion of the day and painted many of the beauti- ful court ladies in the later years of the Fifteenth Louis. But a day came when he was invited to go down to a certain ch~tteau in the country, where he was engaged to paint the portrait of the lovely but dowerless daughter of the Comte de Fermande. The older sister had just made a great marriage, and it was hoped that if this portrait was seen in her salon, the exqnisite face might attract the attention of some nobleman who would be willing~o forego the dot which the comtes gariibling debts had devoured, and that it would also pave the way for a reception at court the following year. Alas! these well laid plans were not realized. The lovely Marie Louise Claire de Fermande and Mon- sieur Armand de Lys fell violently in love with each other in a fashion not altogether French; and one day, with the assistance of a devoted maid they both disappeared, taking the por- trait along with them,for the ardent lover could not bear to think of wicked eyes looking on that innocent face. They made their way to England, where they were married and lived very hap- pily for some years, in spite of the rage of their relatives and their own straitened ci r c u m stan c e 5. They managed to get along until pu- pils and orders came, and eventu- ally would have been prosperous enough, if the Eng- lish climate had not u n d e r m i n e d the young wifes consti- tution. Finally, as France was out of the ques- tion, Monsieur de Lys emigrated to America and settled in Philadelphia, where he had again to work his way into favor. Here his daughter was born, and his wife lived until the little girl was eight years old. After her death Monsieur de Lys had not cared for society, and although he had pros- pered in the seventeen years he had lived in Philadelphia and laid by a good dot for little Clajre, he had always lived very simply, and his daughter knew scarcely anyone but her governess and music master and a few of their nearest neighbors. When the invitations for this ball came, and Claire had expressed her great desire to see it, Monsieur de Lys reflected that as she was only fifteen she might go as a child, and as the Chevalier de Luzerne knew his story he could be received there as an equal, which would be agreeable to his pride; so to Claires astonishment he told her he would take her to the ball. When her excitement had subsided, she said: But what shall I wear, dearest papa? I have no suita~ble robe for so grand an occasion ! Buy one, niy darling, he had answered. Get whatever you think FORCED . . . TO SIT UP ALL NIGHT IN HIGH-BACKED CHAIRS. THE DAUPHINS BIRTHDAY BALL. 101 best. But, stayyou are old enough noxv to have the things your dear mother left. Here is the key, and you know the chest. The old, sad look that Claire knew so well had come over his face, so she did not speak, but gave him a sympa- thetic kiss. There were not many things in the chest, for the young bride had not had a Lrousseau, and as she had never appeared in society after her marriage, Lad only the few embroidered muslins she had worn on fate days, and one, only one, pretty silk that had been given her when her sister was married. It was a youthful pattern not unsuita- ble for Claires tender years, although perhaps the embroidered muslins might have been better; but the girl could not resist the white French silk brocaded with a running pattern of light blue ribbon tied here and there into bows that held a few pink rose- buds, and it was of a fashion that could be easily altered into the mode of the day. She chose for the rest, an ex- cjuisite kerchief of embroidered mull, a string of pearlsthe only jewelry in the chestand a wonderful Watteau fan. It was thus that she went to the Dauphins Birthday Ball, with her dark curls tied back with a blue rib- bon,for she was too young for poxvderand a half-blown rose on her bosom. She was very beautiful, but she had never found it out, although she had been much pleased with her appear- ance and with her fathers commenda- tion of it; for had lie not called her Louise ! and grown, oh, so white, when he first saw her in the gala robes? and had she not often gazed at the lovely portrait of her mother and longed to look like her? So this was praise enough for little Claire. But the dancinghow wonderful it was !and the lights and brilliant gowns! She had not minded knowing no one when they had wan- dered about the beautiful garden with its groves and fountains and mysteri- ous lights shining on the roses; but now,if she only knew one person, only one to ask her to dance! And she could dance; her mother had taught her when she was a little girl, and she could make the grand curtsy in a graceful fashion that not one, no, not one of these wonderfully dressed ladies with towering heads could master. The little slippered foot kept time to the music of the minuet, while the hand on her fathers arm gently drew him back from those high seats around the wall toward which he was making his way. Dear papa, she whispered, may we not stand here near the door where we can see better? And,andoh, papa, if you only knew someone who could ask me to dance! But all your friends seem to be so old,or else only ladies. Just then the Chevalier de la Luzerne entered the room with Mrs. Biugham on his arm, and behind him quite a train of young men, one of whom, a French officer in full uni- form, caught the look in Claires eyes. Such eyes! Magnificent, and yet with the innocent gaze of a little child! Never before had he seen such eyes in a hall room. Chevalier, he murmured in the ambassadors ear, tell me who this charming young lady is. I see you know her father, and he is certainly my own countryman. The chevalier smiled assent, and when he had led Mrs. Bingham to a conspicuous seat and spoken to a group of his guests, turned back to the young officer. In a few words the romantic story of the portrait painter was told; and then Count dEvre- monde, Captain of the Guard and attachd of the embassy, xvas presented to Monsieur de Lys and his daughter. After a little conversation, the father was asked if he had any objection to his daughters dancing the minuet. That is, if Mademoiselle de Lys is willing? he said, looking into her eager eyes. The father hesitated a moment: My daughter is so young, he said. 102 THE DAUPHINS BIRTHDAY BALL. I brought her merely as a spectator. But the pressure on his arm suddenly became painful, and looking down into Claires eyes, he saw that they were filling with tears. Do you want to dance so much, little one? he asked. Well, then you may, once, monsieur. Only one dance! but would it ever be forgotten? It was a wonderful dreamthe music and the flowers, the jewels and splendid gowns; and then she, little Claire, the artists daughter, dancing in the set with such great ladies! Yet they smiled so kindly at herthe anxious father noticed that; his little daughter was not scorned by these ladies who had been his patrons. At half-past nine the fireworks began to be set off in the garden; and among the crowd that surged out to see the brilliant spectacle were Mon- sieur de Lys, Claire, and still the Captain of the Guard, talking all the while to the artist of old days in France, but looking into the eyes of Mademoi- selle Claire, which met his with the trustful gaze of a child. He thought with a shudder of the eyes of the court beauties at Versailles, and then he remembered a little sister of his own who had died long ago. Two hours later he was still with them, and accompanied them into one of the three large tents where supper was served, and where every lady was provided with a seat, the polite cheva- lier speaking to each one in turn. Mademoiselle Claire was too excited to eat much, which was a pity, as thirty cooks had been borrowed from the French army to cook this supper; but she enjoyed seeing the laden tables glittering with silver and glass, and the flowers, and she was pleased with some strange confectionery that the captain brought her. Somehow or other he had managed to discover a most distant connection by marriage between a faraway cousin of his own and an equally remote relative of Mon- sieur de Lys, and on the strength of this relationship had asked and received an invitation to the modest house of the portrait painter. He also accompanied them home soon after one oclock, although the brill- iant fate was not over until three in the morning. It was not really over then; for the next day the Chevalier de la Luzerne sent six hundred dollars to be distributed among the poor men in the prisons and the sick in the hospital, that they also might share in the joy over the Dauphins birth. During the weeks that followed, upon one pretext or another, Captain Louis dEvremonde often found him- self in front of the gate which led into Monsieur de Lys garden, which was a most attractive place with large shade trees and gay with great rose bushes and old-fashioned flowers. Here the artist and his daughter often took their early tea while the evenings were warm, and if the Captain of the Guard happened to be passing by just at that time, Monsieur de Lys could not do otherwise than ask him to share their modest meal. How happy those days were for all three! Monsieur de Lys forgot his old struggle for bread, forgot tbat he was only a portrait painter in a foreign country, and talked again with the easy air of a man of the world the old, gay world of the Fifteenth Louis when the manners were so charming and the conversations so delightful, if the morals were corrupt. And Claire was enchanted with their new friend, who was careful never to talk to her in the complimentary and flirtatious manner of the youth of that day. He always remembered the little sister who had died long ago, when he looked into those innocent eyes. But the happy days did not last. One afternoon, pale and agitated, the young officer appeared in Monsieur de Lys studio, and showed him peremp- tory orders to return at once to France. I do not know what it means, mon- sieur, he said. I cannot tell how I have offended the higher powers, for I have done my best to follow out the instructions given me. I had intended, 108 THE DAUPHINS BIRTHDAY BALL Monsieur de Lys,if I gained my fathers consentto ask yon for the hand of Mademoiselle Claire when she was old enough for marriage, and I trusted that after you knew me better, you would permit me to win her heart in the American fashionthe only true fashion. But now I do not dare to ask for anything; my for- tunes are too nncertain. I must leave to-morrow in the ship La Sircrw, which sails for Havre; and I can only stop this evening and say adieu to Made- moiselle Claire, with all that is in my heart still unspoken. But, 0 my friend! I will surely return again. I xvill come back if all is right and ask you for this great gift; and may the good God grant that I find her still free ! As he spoke he wrung the hand of the artist, who was almost as much moved as himself by the confession. That evening they took tea together in the little garden for the last time. It is only Au revoir, mademoiselle, the captain said when the parting hour came, and he hent over the little hand and kissed it. But von will give me the rose in your kerchief?to rememher you, and the little garden, and your kind father. Let me get you a better one, mon- sieur, she cried, her eyes filling with tears. This one is a little faded. No, that one will do, mademoi- selle; and when I return I shall bring it back with me, to show that I have never forgotten. Then he went away in the moon- light; and the days and weeks seemed very dull after that time. II. It was the year of our Lord 1793. The French monarchy, which had lasted for a thousand years, had been overthrown. The Sixteenth Louis had suffered for the sins of his prede- cessors, and his beautiful queen had mounted the scaffold regally, and laid down her prematurely whitened head upon its ghastly pillow, while many of the best and fairest of France had folloxved them to the scaffold, and the Terror had at last emptied the prisons. Almost every vessel that arrived in port now brought refugees to Phila- delphia flying from the guillotine in France or from the infuriated blacks in Port au Prince. The Quaker City was thronged with foreigners of all shades and in all costumes, ne- gresses in flowing white garments and madras turbans, beautiful West Indian ladies attired in rich and costly robes, and emigr~s from France in the stately Bourbon dress,while the one topic of conversation was the French Revo- lution and Washingtons unpopular policy of remaining neutral. The excitement was intense whenever the French brought in a prize with the Union Jack down. Vive la Repub- lique ! was cried by those who knew no other words of French; and day and night the streets resounded with the French national airs, and the cockade was worn l)y many of the young men. Processions of boys and even girls marched through the streets wearing tn-colored ribbons and danced around a great liberty pole, singing the Marseillaise, with a band of music to mark the time,and even elderly men encouraged such demon- strations. In May the French Republic had sent over its first minister, in a ship bristling with liberty caps and bearing pennons with such mottoes as Ene- mies of Equality, Reform or Tremble ! Freemen, we are your Friends and Brothers. And although the govern- ment refused to recognize this ambas- sador officially, he was everywhere re- ceived with demonstrations of joy, while Democratic Societies were formed, and Washington was called an aris- tocrat. Fanatics even published their niarriages in the newspapers as a part- nership between Citizen John Smith and Citizeness Mary Jones. Our old friends, Monsieur de Lys and his daughter, had no sympathy with these turbulent spirits. Although HOW HAPPY THOSE DAYS WERE FOR ALL THREE 104 THE DAUPHINS BIRTHDAY BALL. 1o~ living under a republican government, and appreciating their privileges, they were in regard to France true loyalists, and Monsieur de Lys still kept the badge of mourning on his left arm, while Claire wore day and night the miniature of the unhappy Queen. Mademoiselle Claire had grown more and more beautiful during these eventful years; and she had not lacked suitors among the sons of her fathers patrons, who, dazzled by her beauty, had penetrated the quiet little circle in which she moved, or among those aristocrats of old France, who, although emigrds and poor, still felt that they were noble, and believed in a day of restoration. But she did not marry. She was not moved by their sighs and protestations, and her father wondered sometimes,. with his French training, whether he was right in not trying to persuade her to accept one of these really advantageous offers; for he was quite aware that he was grow- ing old and that Claire had no relatives to protect her when he was dead. He did not suspect, however, the reason why she was so little attracted by these lovers; he never imagined that for ye ars his daughters ideal and standard of excellence had been her first and best friend the gay young attachd who had danced with her at the Dauphins Birthday Ball long ago. She did not love him, of course; she was only a little girl when he went away, and knew nothing of the grand passion; and she did not know that he had loved her, for he had always remembered the little dead sister and been careful not to awaken the woman in those innocent eyes. But all the same, the lovers who came and went were weighed in the balance with Louis dEvremonde, and found wanting. Philadelphia was at this time full of notable people, men who have since figured conspicuously in the history of France; and although the tide of emigration had been checked by the scourge of yellow fever which during the summer of 1793 had devastated Philadelphia, with the disappearance of the disease in the cool autumn weather the emigration began again. And now in December nearly every day brought refugees from the Terror; and among them came at last one who had long been anxiously expected by Monsieur de Lys and his. daughter,both having feared, as month after month rolled by and no letter came, that he also had fallen a victim to the guillotine. When he arrived at the studio he was travel-stained and emaciated, his young face lined xvith care and suffer- ing, and his hair already touched with white. Only a friend could have recognized the gay, exquisitely dressed Captain dEvremonde of the French Guard. Monsieur de Lys clasped him to his heart and embraced him in the effusive French fashion, while tears coursed down his cheeks. But you have suffered, my friend, he cried at last. You have suffered and lost all for your King, xvhile I was living in ease and safety. You did well to come to me; my home, my means and my heart are yours ! There were many things to tell this sympathetic friend; for the Captain of the Guard, now the Marquis dEvre- monde, had lost father, brother, sister and all his nearest relatives, and had himself escaped the guillotine by a miracle, working his way to England disguised as a strolling player. He had witnessed scenes which were almost too terrible to relate, to the story of which Monsieur de Lys lis- tened with his gray head bowed in his hands. Having thrown in his fortunes with the King, he had refused to escape until there was no longer a king to serve, and he had suffered from wounds, imprisonment and privations of every description. Claire listened with clasped hands and tearful eyes to her fathers descrip- tion of the sufferings and changed appearance of their old friend. She dressed herself carefully to meet him. She wore a favorite gown of pale yel- low with a fine white kerchief crossed 106 THE DAUPHINS BIRTHDAY BALL. over her bosom. Her dark hair was arranged high on her.~head under a lit- tle cap, and a few loose curls dropped low on her shoulders, while her only ornanient was the Queens miniature hanging from a black ribbon. When he entered the room she was standing by a tall astral laiiip nervously turning the pages of a book which she held in her hand, her cheeks flushed with excitement. He had never in all his life seen so beautiful a woman. He had not dared to hope that she had remained unmarried during these years when his duty and honor had kept him in France; but here she was still free,while he was only a poor exile instead of the xvealthy young Captain of the Guard. Yet how warm her welcome was! How sweet she looked coming toward him xvith her outstretched hands! But you have suffered ! she mur- mured, her eyes filling with tears and the color forsaking her cheeks in spite of her fathers preparation. Yet I have at last returned, made- moiselle, he said, lifting her hand to his lips; and I find you unchanged, so the sad past will be all forgotten, and I shall be happy once more. Her eyes fell beneath his ardent gaze, and the color surged back into her cheeks. Ah! monsieur the mar- quis, you will never see again the innocent child eyes of the little sister who died long ago! Mademoiselle Claire is a woman now, and she under- stands the look in a lovers eyesfor has she not had many lovers during these years? How like a little heaven this peace- ful home seemed to the poor emigr~! But when he spoke of the quiet of the streets as he passed through them, both father and daughter assured him that he was fortunate not to have wit- nessed many strange sights in his short walk from the ship. It was probably because it was time for the midday meal that the streets were so quiet, Claire said. You would not know Philadelphia now, monsieur, if you walked abroad; there are so many foreign-looking people iii the streets, and sometimes one sees and hears such hideous things! It seems almost impossible that only a few years ago a great f~te should have been given to celebrate the birth of the Dauphin of France, so happy in his death before these troubled times, and that to-day the mass of the people are in sympathy with those who have murdered the King and Queen. May God have mercy on this land ! exclaimed the marquis. It is not so bad as it sounds, my friend, Monsieur de Lys said sooth- ingly. It will come right in the end, for this is a reasonable nation, and you will find many of your friends here who have, like you, escaped only with their lives, whom some of the best people in Philadelphia have welcomed to their houses and helped to procure pupils. For they are doing what you propose to do, monsieur, all teaching French or music. I have no doubt that you will soon get as many pupils as you desire, for the violin is a favorite instru- inent just now, and I remember well how exquisitely you played. Monsieur de Lys was quite right. The Marquis, or as he called himself now Monsieur Louis dEvremonde, soon had maiiy pupils, with whom his high-bred manners made him very popular. The portrait painter wished him to continue to make his home with them always; but he would not do it. It would not be safe for me to con- tinue to see Mademoiselle Claire every day, monsieur, he said, when pressed for a reason. I have no right to ask you for her hand in my altered for- tunes; and yetI love your daughter even more now than I did when she was still only a child ! Louis ! the old Frenchman said, laying his hand upon the younger mans shoulder, I have no son of my own. Take that place in my heart and home! If my daughter is willing, there is no one to whom I would so gladly give her. I know that if you ever have your rights restored to you, THE DAUPHINS BIRTHDAY BALL. 1107 you will be a great match for my little girl, he said with tact; but she has. as you know, noble blood in her veins also, and her old father thinks her quite vorthy of bearing the proud title of marquise, although just now it may be an empty honor. So that evening, after the tea in the little garden, Monsieur de Lys went into his studio to read; and after he had gone Louis dEvremonde brought out of his pocket an old leather case trom which he drew a brown and withered rose. ~Mademoiselle, he said, a lovely child took this rose from her kerchief, where it had lain on her heart, and gave it to me long ago for a parting gift; and I told her that I would surely re- turn again and show it to her in proof that I had never forgotten. I hoped to be able to offer her wealth and honor, and to make her life one long birthday ball. I came back years after- wards, old, pen- niless, deprived of everything save honor, and found the little maid had become the most beautiful woman in the world, at whose feet many lovers had knelt. I grew young again in the sunshine of her presence, but I would not have dared to ask for more had not her father encouraged me; and nowah, Claire! I have nothing at all to offer this beautiful woman but a withered rose nothing to offer but my love! Monsieur, she answered, lifting her eyes to his with a wealth of love and trtist in their pure depths, the true heart that has been faithful all these years to the memory of that child, does not that count? There has never been anyone to take your place since that night of the birthday ball; only I did not understanduntil I grew older and knew others. And then the dark eyes fell, and the color came and went in her cheeks as he poured out his love and gratitude into her willing ears. Lovers were the same, I fancy, a century ago as they are to-day save perhaps that kneel- ing seems to have gone out with small clothes and silk stockings; so there is no need to listen in the deepening twi- light at the little garden gate. ( ne day, not very long afterward, there was a quiet wedding at old St. Josephs church in Will- ings Alley, at which some great persons were present, but it made no stir in a community where titled peo- ple were known to be generally poor and teach- ers of French and music. If the morning paper com- mented upon this wedding at all, it probably merely mentioned that the beautiful daughter of Monsieur de Lvs, the popular portrait painter, had married a French emigre, Monsieur Louis dEvremonde; but the old French priest who had blessed the bride and groom, would have given a (hifferent description. He would have told you that he had had the honor of uniting in marriage Louis Francis Vic- tor, Marqnis dEvremonde, and Marie Antoinette Claire Louise Fermande de Lys, in whose veins ran the blood of two of the proudest families of France; that the witnesses had been the Vicomte de Noailles and the Duke de Liancourt, and that among 108 INTERPRETING. the invited guests were many French gentlemen of high and noble birth. Monsieur and Madame dEvre- monde lived a happy, retired life in the home of the old portrait painter for some years. But when the First Con- sul offered to restore the confiscated estates of the French nobles, and in- vited the emigrds to return, the mar- quis remembered their little son and his duty toward him, although there was no longer a king on the throne of France; and as Monsieur de Lys was dead there was nothing now to pre- vent their return. So it came to pass after all that the marquis was able finally to give his beautiful wife the wealth and honors, the jewels and robes he had wished to bestow upon her long ago; and the old noblesse of the Faubourg St. Ger- maine welcomed them with open arms. But, alas! there were so many faces I n]issiug, so many families swept out of existence! One night, at a great ball, the Amer- ican minister, a Philadelphian, who had just been credited, was startled by being told that the Marquise dEvre- monde, the most beautiful woman present, who was surrounded by an admiring crowd, had been born in the Quaker City, and was formerly Made- moiselle de Lys, whose father had actually painted his own portrait. But this astute ambassador never dis- covered, even after he had become a trusted friend of the Marquise dEvre- monde, that her most valued posses- sion was not the box of magnificent family jewels that had been miracu- lously preserved in the bottom of a well during the evil days, but a certain brown and withered rose which lay in a shabby leather case beside a torn invitation to the Dauphins Birthday Ball. INTERPRETING. By PA/lit Becker Goelz. I FAIL to read the omens of this dream: The infant gasping once and going hence; Youth crippled with his ancestors offence; Age destined to await in vain one gleam. FAI RHAVEN. By Artluir Glevelaild Hall. THE harbor sleeps in soft unruffled gray; Vague, moon-kissed clouds float slow like shadowy dreams Across the liquid labyrinth, where stream. Prom myriad brooks conjoin and interplay; High tide rolls in from sea and floods th way. To-nicrht the moon sifts down soft shimmering gleams, And ship lights dot the dark with stead beams, Red ,green and yellow. Ship bells time the day. Type of the poets mind, dear bay, thou art: Dim hints of heaven-born beauty haunt his brain; The tide sets in from the vast shadowy main Of Gods eternity, and checks the fib v Of earth-born passion streams which come and go. The muse, cloud dimmed, sifts love light to his heart. 009 FROM A DRAWYBO BY 0. H. OFFORD. HARRIET TUBMAN By Lillie B. Chace WymaTh 11 ARRIET TUBMAN was born [1~ in Dorchester Connty, Mary- land, about the year 1820. She was held as a slave, although there is reason to believe that but for a fraudu- lent transaction she and her mother would have been free according to the provisions of a former masters will. 1-larriet was one of ten children. While she was very little, two of her older sisters were sold, chained up with other negroes and driven away. She perched on the top of a fence and watched them go, crying as they went. When she was twelve or thirteen years old, she was told to help tie up a man to be whipped. She refused, and the ne~ro ran off, while she put herself in the doorway to prevent pursuit. The owner caught up a heavy iron weight and threw it at the fugitive. It hit Harriet on the head, and induced an illness, which left her subject to attacks of a lethargic nature, which often caused her to fall asleep, even if she were working or engaged in conversation. She was hired out to act as childs nurse and maid of all work, when little more than a child herself. She was obliged to work all day and then rock a baby as much of the night as was ~eces5ary to keep it quiet. The cradle was placed near the mothers bed, Harriet was stationed at the cradle, and a whip lay within the mothers reach. If ever Harriet ceased her rocking and fell asleep, and the baby woke and cried enough to disturb its mother, the lash curled cruelly round the little black girls neck and shoulders. She fell ill finally, and was returned, a scarred, worn creature, to her master. Her mother nursed her back to health, and then she developed re- niarkable muscular strength. Being so strong, she was hired out to a man who made her lift heavy barrels and perform the labor of a horse or ox. She broke down again, so utterly that not even the whip could rouse her to work, and she was once more sent honie. She lay ill a whole winter. 1-ler master offered to sell h~r for a very low price, and used to bring men to look at her. She heard them dis- cuss the bargain, and lying there, IIAThRIET TUBMAN, 1895. HARRIET TUBMAN. lii while the depressing bartering went on abont ber, she prayed for a long time that her master might be con- verted. At last she grew angry and altered her prayer and said: Lord, if yon aint never going to change dat mans heart, kill him, Lord, an take him ont ob de way, so he wont do no more mischief. Soon after this, she heard that the man had died, and she was immediately strnck with penitent feelings and wished she had not prayed for his death. She feared now that all the dead mans slaves wonld be sold, and she heard a minor that she and two of her brothers were to be speedily sent Sonth, so she determined to mn away. She had scarcely any idea where to go, or what she wonld find if she went; bnt the little knowledge she possessed about the North rednforced her in- stinctive conviction that a shelter awaited her somewhere in the world. She had been wont to dream of flying over towns and fields, hills and streams, and of coming to a river in which she wonld have drowned, as she tried to cross it, bnt for ladies all dressed in white, who, she said, pnt ont deir arms, and pnlled her safely over. She had a deep religions faith and faith also in signs, omens and dreams. Accordingly, nrged on by forebodings as to her fntnre if she re- mained a slave, and impelled by mysti- cal impnlses, she persnaded her two brothers to start with her one night for the distant land of liberty, which, for all they knew with any certainty, might prove indeed to be a No-mans land. She dared not tell her father and mother of her determination to escape, lest they in their distress shonid reveal her plans; bnt she wished to ntter her farewells in some fashion that they and her other friends wonld remember and interpret afterwards, in order that they might be comforted in her absence. So she went abont among their cabins, sluging as she went: When dat ere ole chariot comes, Im gwine to leabe you. Im bound for de promised land, Friens, Im gwine to leabe you. Im sorry, friens, to leahe you, Farewell, oh farewell ! 1-ler brothers went with her bnt a short way. Their hearts misgave them in the darkness and the loneliness of the hidden road. Harriet stood still and watched them go back, and then, a woman, yonng and all alone in the midnight, she tnrned her resointe steps northward. She had made np her mind that she had a right to one of two things, freedom or death. She was determined that no man should take her back alive. She reached Philadelphia, and went to work to earn her living; bnt she was hannted by thonghts of those whom she had left behind her in slavery. In December, 1850, she went back as far as Baltimore, and helped her sister to escape with two children. She con- tinned to make jonrneys into Mary- land and bring away fngitives, until the Civil War occurred. No record was kept of the number she thns de- livered from slavery, but it is probable THOMAS GARREIT. 112 HARRIET TUBMAN. that it amounted to about three hun- red; and she went down nineteen times to rescue these people. She never failed in any expedition, and none of the poor creatures whom she guided North were ever recaptured. Thus she came to be called the Moses of her people. She often passed through Delaware, and received aid in her undertakings from Thomas Garrett. This man was a Quaker whose principal object in life was to assist fugitive slaves. The writer of this sketch once heard him say in his benign and happy old age: The war came a little too soon for my business. I wanted to help off three thousand slaves. I had only ~,,ot up to twenty-seven hundred ! Garrett was twice tried and fined heavily, and at sixty years old was thus rendered pen- niless as a punishment for his labors in behalf of fugitives. The United States judge as he pro- nounced sentence on one of these oc- casions said: Garrett, let this be a son to you, not to interfere hereafter with the cause of justice by helping off runaway negroes. The brave old Quaker lifted his gray head at this, and answered: Judge thee hasnt left me a dollar, but I wish to say to thee, and to all in this court room, that if anyone knows of a fugitive who wants a shelter and a friend, send him to Thomas Garrett, and he will befriend him. Garrett was a shoe dealer, and he was accustomed to give all Harriets refugees new shoes if they passed through Wilmington. Living as he did in a state which for a long tinie permitted slavery in its borders, he never dared to keep any written ac- count of his experiences; but he esti- mated that Harriet brought to him between sixty and seventy slaves. ln a letter published in a brief memoir of her life which was prepared by one of her friends, he says of Har- riet,: In truth, I never 1 iet with any person of any color, who had more confidence in the voice of God, as spoken direct to her soul. HARRIET TUBMAN, HER HUSBAND, AND SOME OF HER PROTEGES. One day she came into his store and told him that God had revealed to her the fact that he had some money for her. He asked her how much she wanted, and after reflecting a moment, she said: About txventy-three dollars. He then handed her twenty-four dol- lars and some odd cents, which had been sent to him by a gentleman in Scotland, xvho had heard of Harriet from the reports of Abolitionists and had consequently forwarded this sum through Eliza Wigham, secretary of the Edinburgh Anti-Slavery Society. It was the first money Garrett had ever received for Harriet. A year later, she came once more to him, saying that God had told her that he again had money for her, but not so much as he had before. A few days previously another gift of one pound and ten shil- lings had come from the other side of the ocean. These incidents impressed him with the conviction, which other people who came in contact with her also felt, that she possessed a sort of clairvoyant power. She had no education whatever, but she assured her Quaker friend that she talked with God daily, and that God talked with her, and said she felt no fear of being arrested on her expedi- tions, because she never went any- where unless God sent her, and she was sure He would protect her. She took different routes on her journeys, so that but a portion of her protdges went through Delaware. At first she took them only as far as New York state, but after the Fugitive Slave law was passed she carried her parties to Canada. I wouldnt, she said, trust Uncle Sam wid my people no longer. During the later years before the xvar, she made her own home in Canada, but she did not stay there much. She had various ways of letting the negroes in Maryland know when she was likely to appear in their country. Once she sent a letter so mysteriously worded that the white people xvho in- spected it could make nothing of it, 113 and the negro to whom it was ad- dressed had the wit to clear himself of suspicion, when it was read to him, by refusing to take it and declaring that it could not be for him. He understood it, however, very well, and, remem- bering the words which he had pre- tended xvere utter nonsense he con- veyed the message to Harriets brothers that they were to prepare to fly to the North with her. On one occasion, she walked boldly by daylight through a village where she had lived when a slave. She pulled her sunbonnet over her face and imitated the gait of an elderly person. In the market place she bought a pair of live fowls. Turning a corner, she met a man to whom she had once been hired out. She twitched the string that bound the legs of the chickens, and as they struggled and screamed she bent over them, and so hid her face as she went by her master. Once she sent her company of fugi- tives onward by some secret route, and started North herself on a railroad train. There were posters in the car offering $40,000 for her head. The passengers read these papers aloud, so that she learned their purport. At the next station, the dauntless woman left the car and took a train going South, feeling convinced that no one would suspect that a woman upon whose life a price was set would dare turn her face in that direction. The re- ward was promised by the slave-hold- ers of the region she was accustomed to visit. She tolerated no weakness in herself or in her followers. A toothache tor- mented her during one of her jour- neys. She took a stone or bit of iron and knocked the offending tooth out of her mouth. If any of the band she was leading faltered through terror or weakness, or threatened to lie down on the way either to die or wait a chance to return home, Harriet in her heroism had a heroic remedy ready for their physical or moral faintness. She simply pointed a revolver at their heads and said: Dead niggers tell no tales; you HARRIET TUBMAN. 114 HARRIET TUBMAN. go on or die. Young mothers fled with her, and Harriet put their babies into baskets and drugged them so they could not cry. The salvation she sought for her people was worth in her eyes the most desperate endeavors. When her fugitives lacked food, it sometimes became necessary to hide them in the woods, and then leave them and scour the country herself in search of provisions or to learn the best means of reaching the next sta- tion on their trip. She used songs as signals to let the poor creatures know as she came back to them that it was she and not an enemy who approached. It is doubtful whether music ever sounded sweeter to human ears than her singing did to them, as she hurried on through swamps and tangled forests to their succor. One night she came to a town where she expected to find a friend who had before this given her aid. She left her party huddled together in the street in a pouring rain, and advancing to the door of the house where she had for- merly visited she gave a peculiar rap, which she knew her friend would rec- ognize. A white man put his head out of the window and gruffly demanded what she wanted. She asked for her acquaintance, and was told that he had been forced to leave the place for harboring niggers. Daylight was close at hand. Discovery seemed im- minent; but Harriet hesitated only a moment before she remembered a swamp lying near the village, and into its recesses she led the slaves. They lay down in the tall, damp grass. They were hungry and they were frightened, but Harriet dared not go for food, lest the man she had roused should have suspected her and set officers on the search. There was a pair of twin ba- bies in the party, but they were drugged, and knew not the danger and discomfort of the situation. The adults knew and they shivered through the long dismal day. After night fell again, a man dressed in Quaker clothes came walking along the edge of the swamp. He talked in a low tone as if to himself, and sharp ears listened. Harriet heard him say: My wagon stands in the barn-yard of the next farm across the way. The horse is in the stable ; the harness hangs on a nail. So murmuring, the stranger passed on. Night settled over the world. Harriet stole away to the farmyard. There she found the wagon; and it was stocked with provisions. In a very brief space of time, she was driving her whole party to the next stopping place on the Underground Railroad. She gave the horse and wagon in charge to a Quaker there, who doubtless found the owner and returned them to him. But Harriet never learned how the stranger knew that the fugitives were lurking in the swamp, nor did she greatly care to know. She always ex- pected God to send her deliverance in time of trouble, and she saw no reason for wondering that He had done so this time. One of the fugitives whom she helped to escape was a man named Joe, whose first master sold him. The morning after the bargain was completed, the new owner ordered Joe to strip, and then gave him a severe flogging, admitting that Joe had com- mitted no offence to deserve punish- ment, but saying that he always be- gan with his niggers by giving them a good licking, so as to establish his authority over them firmly. After this chastisement, Joe went at once to the cabin of old Ben, Harriets father, and said: Nex time Moses comes, let me know. Being therefore put in communica- tion with Harriet, Joe joined a party which chanced to be more hotly pur- sued than were most of her companies. The fugitives were obliged to separate and take different roads; but they met again in the house of Samuel Green, a free negro living in Dorchester county, Maryland. This Green was after- wards sent to jail for ten years, by sen- tence of a county court held in Cam- bridge in that state, because a copy of HARRIET TUBMAN. 115 Uncle Toms Cabin was found in his possession. Two thousand dollars was offered for the capture of Joe, and the roads and woods through which he and his companions made their way swarmed with hunters eager to catch him and secure this money. When the escap- ing party neared Wilmington Bridge, a friend warned Harriet that advertise- ments were out concerning Joes flight, and that the bridge was guarded by policemen. She hid the fugitives in separate places, and contrived to get word into the city to Thomas Garrett, advising him of their sore strait. The staunch old Quaker sent across the bridge two wagons full of bricklayers, who shouted and sang as they passed the officers. They returned after dark, still shouting and singing, and the guards did not suspect that while the noisy workmen occupied the seats, certain silent negroes lay close to- gether on the wagon floors. When this company finally arrived in New York City, Harriet took them into the Anti-Slavery office, and Oliver Johnson rose up to meet Joe, exclaim- ing: I am glad to see the man who is worth two thousand dollars to his master. The slave-holders adver- tisement had preceded the slave to the office. When Joe learned this, his heart sank within him. He felt sure that his master would follow and seize him before he could reach Canada. It was now proposed to forward the fugi- tives the rest of the way by train. Poor Joe was alarmed at this idea. He thought they would be safer to go on foot, walking by night and hiding by day in forests and ditches. He was persuaded, however, to proceed with the others in the railroad cars; but a deep melancholy possessed his spirit. He was afraid. As the train ap- proached the Suspension Bridge, the negroes, who occupied a car in which all the other passengers sympathized with them, began to sing. Harriet probably furnished the words; the rest joinedall but Joe. He sat moodily silent, while the song rang out: Oh, I heard Queen Victoria say, That if we would forsake Our native land of slavery, And come across de lake; Dat she was standing on de shore, Wid arms extended wide, To give us a peaceful home, Beyond de rolling tide. When the train came to the centre of the bridge, Harriet, knowing that the danger line was passed, bounded across the car and nearly pushed Joe out of his seat, crying in wild exulta- tion: Joe, youve shook the lions paw. He did not understand her, and so she had to explain more quietly: Youre in Queen Victorias domin- ions! Youre a free man. Then Joe stood up and, lifting his head like a man, found voice to sing: Glory to God and Jesus too, One more soul got safe; Oh, go, and carry the newsy One more soul got safe! When at last his feet were firmly planted on Canadian soil, and all the people from the car crowded rejoicing about him, he xviped the tears from his face and said: Tank de Lord, deres only one more journey for me now, and dats to Heaben. Harriet persuaded three of her brothers to fly with her, after she had demonstrated the fact that such efforts could be successful. They decided to take advantage of the Christmas holi- days to make the attempt; and all one Christmas day they lay hidden in the: fodder house waiting for nightfall. Harriet was with them. Their moth- er s cabin was close by their place of concealment, and their mother was expecting them home for a festival dinner. Harriet had not spoken with her mother for six years; but she dared not reveal herself to her now, and the boys were also afraid to go to her, lest she should suspect their plans and in her terror and grief make an outcry which would betray them. So all day long the brothers and sister peeped through the chinks of the fodder-house wall, and watched their disappointed hG HARRIET TUBMAN. mother come to her door and look anxiously up and down the road to see her sons, who did not come. One of the men had left a wife and new- born baby. The wife had sobbed and cried; but he had not dared to stay with her, because he had heard that he was to be sold to the South. All he could do to comfort her was to promise that if he escaped he would send Moses back for her sometime. Hunger forced Harriet to let her father, old Ben, know where his chil- dren were. He brought them food several times; but he would not look at them when he did so. After it was dark, the men went with their sister near the cabin and, unseen by the old woman, gazed silently through the window at their mother. Old Ben came out to them, with his eyes ban- daged. A son took him by one arm and his daughter by the other, and thus they led him between them a little distance on their journey. At last they found strength to bid him farewell. He stood in the road and listened till the sound of their footsteps died away; then he unbound the cloth from his eyes and wended his way home. Hav- ing taken all these precautions as to the use of his eyes, the poor old soul was able to answer quite conscien- tiously, when questions were put to him about his missing sons, that he hadnt seen one of em dis Christmas. Another time, Harriet guided North a fourth brother accompanied by his sxveetheart disguised as a boy; and finally she overcame the timidity of her parents and conveyed them also to Canada. It was almost a matter of course that John Brown and Moses should come together to concert plans for a more general liberation of the slaves than she could effect alone in her mid- night flights. The Kansas hero met Harriet some time before he invaded Virginia. Wendell Phillips wrote: The last time I ever saw John Brown was under my own roof, as he brought Harriet Tubman to me, saying, Mr. Phillips, I bring you one of the best and bravest persons on this conti- nent. It must have been a scene for a painter; the group they three made, as they stood together in the little re- ception room of Mr. Phillips Essex Street house,the blonde Boston gentleman, the stern-faced man who was to die on a gallows, and the dark- skinned Maryland woman. John Brown and a colored man named Loguen went to St. Catherine~ s in Canada to see Harriet, when Brown was making preparations for his Vir- ginia campaign. Gerritt Smith paid the expenses of this trip. Loguen found Harriets house in this town, and informed her privately that Brown was in the place, and asked her whether she would go to the hotel and see him or whether it would do for him to come to see her. Harriet declares that she was forewarned by dreams that John Brown was to come to her, and she answered Loguen that the old man might visit her home, for nobody would hurt him there. She also sent for some of the colored peo- ple in the neighborhood to come and see him. When John Brown entered he shook hands with her three times, say- ing: The first I see is General Tub- man, the second is General Tubman, and the third is General Tubman. He sat down and explained his pur- poses to her and to the negroes who came in. As is well known, his first intention was to establish a camp in the Virginia mountains, and gather to- gether and run off fugitive slaves; and he urged Harriets friends to aid him. He promised to send them word when and where to join him. He said that in any raid they were to be called upon to make, they were not to de- stroy property, injure children or in- sult women. He also said that if in the conflicts which he evidently anti- cipated, xvhite men were taken prison- ers, they would be released on condi- tion that they would send to his party colored men in numbers equal to their own families. John Brown remained in St. Cathe HARRIET TUBMAN. t17 vines several days, and saw Harriet more than once. It is stated, more- over, that he framed his Constitution in her house. He told her, as he told many other persons, that God had called him to do something for the black man, and he declared that he was not horn to be killed by a Sharpes rifle or a bowie knife. Many of the negroes in that town promised to go to Brown xvhen he sent orders; but as the world knows, he changed his plans afterwards, at- tacked Harpers Ferry, and never sent for his Canadian recruits. At this time, however, he seems to have had no doubt as to what he should do. A letter is published in F. B. Sanborns biography of him, in which he says, speaking of 1-Jarriet as if she were a man:- I am succeeding to all appearance be- yond my expectations. Harriet Tubman hooked on his whole team at once. He is the most of a man naturally that I ever met with. There is the most abundant material, and of the right quality, in this quarter, be- yond all doubt. When John Brown bade Harriet good by, he again called her Gen- eral three times, and informed her that she would hear from him through Douglass. This was probably the parting which the writer once heard Harriet describe, when she stood on her doorstep and gazed after him as long as she could see him, and then watched the omnibus which he had entered till it was out of sight. They were two souls who dealt in action, but were alike moved by impulses from mystical and hidden sources. Just before she met Captain Brown in Canada she had this dream.~ She thought she was in a wilderness sort of place, all full of rocks and bushes, when she saw a serpent raise its head among the rooks, and as it did so, it became the head of an old man with a long, white beard, gazing at her wishful like, jes as ef he war gwvine to speak to me, and then two other heads rose up beside him, younger * From the Boston Commonwealth, 1863. than he,and as she stood looking at them, and wondering what they could want with her, a great crowd of men rushed in, and struck down the younger heads, and then the head of the old man, still looking at her so wishful. This dream she had again and again and could not interpret it; but when she met Captain Brown, shortly after, behold, he was the very image of the head she had seen. When the news came to her of the tragedy of Harpers Ferry, then she knew the two other heads were his two sons. Her own veneration for Captain Brown, says the writer just quoted, has always been profound, and since his murder, has taken the form of a religion. After John Browns death, Harriet visited Mr. Sanborn in Concord; and seeing in one of his rooms, Bracketts bust of the martyr of Harpers Ferry, she fell, says Mr. Sanborn, into a sort of ecstasy of sorrow and admira- tion, and went on in her rhapsodical way to pronounce his apotheosis. Mr. Sanborn also writes that he re- gards her as on the whole the most extraordinary person of her race he has ever known; and in his estimate of her he lays much emphasis on that in- explicable element in her nature, which has always rendered her subject to dreams, visions, misgivings and fore- warnings. 1-larriet was sent South during the Civil War to perform scouting and other services ; and she was taken along when a portion of the army advanced into the interior under the command of Colonel Montgomery, a Kansas as- sociate of John Browns, in order that she might encourage and care for the negroes who were found on the planta- tions and taken back to BeauforL Sometimes she acted as a spy, going secretly into the rebel lines. For many years now this remarka- ble woman has lived in Auburn, New York. She is very poor; but she de- votes herself to the succor of colored men and women more aged and 118 THE PHANTOM DRUM. wretched than herself, and she cares for helpless children who are allied to her race. Her house is a hospital for the infirm and the sick. Her patience and charity know no weariness. A few friends assist her and wonder at her. She would have died long ago but for her indomitable courage and will, writes one of these. In a magnanimous letter to Har- riet, written in i868, Frederick Doug- lass deprecates his own merits as compared to hers. He says The difference between us is very marked. Most that I have done and suffered in the service of our cause has been in public, and I have received much encouragement at every step of the way. You, on the other hand, have labored in a private way. I have wrought in the day you in the night. I have had the applause of the crowd, while the most that you have done has been witnessed by a few trembling, scarred and footsore bondmen and women, whom you have led out of bondage, and whose heartfelt God bless you has been your only reward. THE PHANTOId DRUM. A LEGEND OF cASTINE. By lfickard Burton. THE old fort stands on the sightly hill Engirt by bays and the wide salt sea; Its earthworks soft with the grass a-grow And the gold of flowers, its bastions low. How tranquil Time doth work his will On the stormy heights of history! Of yore the British ensconced them here, Old battle dogs in their rig of red; But the Yankees came, and who might cope With the men afire with freedoms hope? A vanquished foe, with a victors cheer At their very heels, the red-coats fled. In a pit deep dug in mother earth, In a transient prison nigh the wall, Left behind was a drummer lad; Clean forgotten him they had And his petty fault and his ways of mirth; No comrade stayed for to heed his call. Buried alive there, he and his drum! Tireless he beat it, a reveille Would wake the dead, but no living wight Was near to succor by day or night; He prayed that even the foe might come Before he had starved himself away. In vain: when the patriot band marched there In after days, and the rampart scaled, They found his drum-head broken through With the hapless blows, and the drummer too Life-spent; what once was strong and fair Shrunk to a thing whereat men paled. THE MYSTERY OF DAVE GURNEY. 119 * * * * $ Twas in March it fell: a centurys tide Flows full between; but the legend claims, Whenever the windy month comes round, You shall hear by night as doleful sound As ever rose oer the ocean wide Or frightened the children at their games. Tis the phantom drums tap-tapping drear Up in the fort; for he cannot rest, That drummer boy in his dungeon place; You never see him or know his face, But the tap-tap-tap comes sharp and clear Above the sea, when the wind blows west. THE MYSTERY OF DAVE GURNEY. By Lewis G. Wilson. AVE GURNEY was a simple old man, as you shall see. He xvas six feet in height, stooped in the should- ers, and had a small hump upon his back between them. His hair was always long, complexion sallow, forehead fine and beautiful, teeth absent, and he had a scanty beard. The children laughed when he would touch the end of his drooping nose with his under-lip. Daves eyes were black and bright, but sometimes it seemed as if something had been lost out of them. I had not been long settled in Cliff- boro before I knew Dave Gurney just as everybody else knew him; and I began to use him just as everybody else used him. He carried express packages, went upon errands, spaded gardens, mowed lawns, dusted carpets, nursed and doctored sick animals of all kinds and generally cured them. One day a man asked him to kill an old horse whose days of usefulness were over, and he bluntly refused to do the deed. Everybody was aston- ished. He offered no excuse, but simply said, If you want your old horse killed, kill him yourself, and walked away. The men who loafed around the store could not understand it. Dave was supposed to do what- ever was asked of him. Nobody loved Dave, but everybody liked himespecially the boys. He owned a very old, very wise and very handsome mare, and he called her Belle. Belle loved him. They both lived under the same roofDave in a little room finished off in one cor- ner of the barn, and Belle in a large box-stall only a few feet away. There they had lived for many years, man and horse, when I came to Cliffboro, and nobody cared for that. Dave assisted me when I moved into the parsonage. That was a dozen years ago. We became good friends at the very start, and on the very day I moved my furniture from the station I noticed that something or other bad gone out of Daves black eyes. But the poor old fellow had his vices as well as his virtuesas most of us have. One day I wanted to see him. I went to Belles stable, hoping to find him there; but Daves little room and Belles stall were empty. As I came away a small boy said to me, 120 THE MYSTERY OF DAVE GURNEY, Daves gone over to Gerrick. I knew what that meant. He was over at the Old Pen, as the infamons old hotel over there was called. I knew by that that the old man was drinking. It was a hot, sultry day in August; but I did not mind that. In a short time I was driving over the great hill, and soon stopped at the inn. As I did so, I saw Belle standing quietly in the shade of a large elm, now aiid then stamping and throwing her head to her side to frighten away the flies; for Belle had only the stump of a tail the remainder having been removed years before and probably long since worn out in some blacksmiths shop, switching flies from other horses. The landlord stood near the door, and I asked him if I might see Dave Gurney. I gu esso, replied the man, with a silly chuckle, but I haint so sartin Davell be able to see yon __ npon lie disappeared. xvhere- In a moment I heard the heavy step of the old man as he shnffled un- steadily along the great, bare hallxvay. As he approached to within a few paces of xvhere I still sat in my phaeton, he suddenly stopped, squinted one eye and opened wide the other, while his chin kept moving np and down with ludicrous regularity. Canting his head npon one side, he remarked, before I had time to greet him: Parsonhicis your horse sick ? I think not, I replied; is he? Well, get into the shade, or youll never drive that horse home alive. And, sure enongh, my horse was panting violently, and I saw he was almost overcome by the heat. With- out waiting an instant, Dave took the horse by the bridle and led him to the large watering-trough, unfastened the check-rein with his uncertain hand, and then tnrned and began plashing my horses legs with water, now and again forcing the animals head aside as he persisted in thrnsting his nose into the bubbling fountain. Dave would not listen to a word of my message until the horse breathed freely and stood refreshed and cool. Then, blundering over several cobble- stones, he came to the carriage and stood leaning against the wheel. It required only a moment to transact my business with Dave, and, as I turned to drive away, the old man began to retrace his steps. I called to him again, and when he stood near me I bent over and said in a low voice: Dave, take Belle and come home. Dont go in there again. I thought lie seemed a trifle annoyed at this suggestion, for he moved uneasily about. Then, clearing his throat, he looked straight into my eyes and said: Parson, whose business is it where I go? Mine andBelles, said I, as just then I happened to notice the old mare looking at us with anxious interest. Dave made no reply, but imme- diately turned away and went into the Old Pen, and I drove slowly back to Cliffboro. The next day, as I sat in my study, the door-bell rang with sundry little jerks and hitches, as if some small child had pulled at the knob. It was Dave Gurney. As he entered he took from his head his old light-colored cap, and exposed a head matted with unkempt curly hair. When I saw Daves face I knew he was in trouble. He held out his hard, rough hand and tried to speak. His chin, as usual, kept moving up and clown, and one could see that the poor old mans tongue was trembling in his good-natured, toothless mouth, as if it were struggling with words that refused to be uttered. He did not shake hands with me, but just took mine in a listless, heavy-hearted sort of way and clung to it. Why, Dave ! I exclaimed, what is the trouble ? I led him to a chair, and he sat down and turned his face away and gazed vacantly out of the window. After a little while he gained command of him- self and said in a low, broken voice: TIlE MYSTERY OF DAVE GURNEY. 121 Parson,parson, Belles dead! The poor old mans heart was broken, and the fragments of it seemed to keep choking him. His chin moved all the while and a little rivulet of tears coursed down his weather- beaten cheek, while his boot, which rested upon its heel, kept swaying from side to side. Dave Gurneys intense love for ani- nials, and for Belle in particular, was (as yon will sometimes find it) much stronger than his love for hnman beings. The dld man had spent most of his time for nearly txventy years with his mare. They were constantly together. He xvas negligent abont his appointments with men, but never for- got to care for Belle. No animal had ever known a fonder master. What a mother is to a child Dave was to his horse. All this I had observed in the years I had known him, and the old man was the more interesting on this account. I turned to him and remarked: Dave, I thank you for coming here in your trouble. I am sorry for you. Iloxv did it happen? Parson, he replied,and as he proceeded his voice became clearer, perhaps I ought to keep it all to my- selfit seems foolish, I spose, to some folks, but its a big loss to me, and all the greater because of the way it happened. I knew Dave wanted to tell me all about his misfortune wiser p~ople do such things, yon know. Ab, parson, Belle was all I had, and she was all I wanted, and she was all I could lose. And I thought, when I knew she was gone, that I couldnt do anything, nor go anywhere, nor see anybody,and it was awful hard to stay there; so I came up here. He struggled again with the, fragments of his broken heart, and it was some time before he could go on. Finally he continued: Ill tell yon how it was, parson, if you dont mind. ~ on saw me over there at the Old Pen. I went over there to celebrate. You see I had just cured Belle, or thought I had. Shed been lame, and Id stayed and rubbed her and got her out of it. And then I felt so good about it that I was just fool enough to think Id feel better to celebrate. When I left you I went back into the tavern, and somehow I was a little upset by what you had just said to me about going home, parson. But stay I did, and got pretty full. And the hostler gave Belle some meal,cause I spose I was too drunk to feed her myself. Then, you see, when I came home she would hurry, and I couldnt help it. He kept choking as he spoke. Ive had that mare going on now twenty years, and I always said I wanted to die first. And I might have if I hadnt been a fool. Well, I came home niost of the way pretty fast; but when I got along up there by the Upper Dam I noticed something was the matter with Belle. I got out as well as I could and looked at her. I saw she was sick, so I walked her home. When I got her into her stall I saw she was getting worse fast. I couldnt rub her very well, but I managed to keep her on her feet till most morning, and I began to think she would come out of it all right. But, parson, I guess my eyes were as drunk as the rest of me. Just as the clock up there in the church struck four, all at once Belle shook all over. I had her on the barn floor then. I scattered some straw. under her as quick as I could. She knew what that meant; but before she could get down herself she had another shake and fell in spite of me. Then she looked upjust as if she wanted to speak, just as if she expected me to help her. I patted her neck and she rested her nose under my arm. But it was no use; she had another shake and her head fell out of my arms, and she just pushed out her nose, gave one or two little sighs, andBelle was gone! Well, parson, when I saw she was dead, I was just as sober as I am now. But I couldnt stay there, and I couldnt leave her. I covered her up and walked round. But I cant eat 122 TJ-JE MYSTERY OF DAVE GURNEY. and I cant do anything, so I came up here. Now, parson,and he rose wearily to his feet and came to where I sat, and, putting his heavy hand on my shoulder, said solemnly: i[ did not do itI did not do it. It was rum, and nothing but rum. You are my friend, parson, and I swear to you that I am done with rum. We talked for a short time after that and then Dave slowly left the house. The next day was Sunday. I had promised Dave to come to the barn very early. The old mans love for Belle was very real. He was an odd old fellow and in what took place that morning he realized nothing extraor- dinary. It was all of a piece with the only world he seemed to know any- thing about. His love was human enough, but his intellect could carry that love no higher than brute life. When I reached the barn I saw that Dave had made everything ready for the funeral. Belle lay stretched upon a bed of clean straw, covered with a fresh, white sheet. When Dave ap- peared, coming out of his own little room, he was neatly dressed, wearing a white shirt, and having his hair care- fully brushed and his face scrupulously clean. In a little while, with num- erous gees and haws, a big fellow, an intimate friend of Daves, came to the great door with a yoke of oxen and a stone drag in tow. Then the txvo men, the one backing the oxen and the other pulling the drag, placed it beside the dead animal. Dave motioned mysteriously to me as he removed a thin blanket from the mares head and pointed to a small scrap of paper which he had fastened about Belles neck with a strong cord. I bent over and read it; and as I did so I knew why I had been requested to come to the barn so early. It was written in a large and clumsy hand: Dear old Belle: Forgive me. Rum did it. I swear on your dead body never to drink again. Your old Friend, As soon as the hod y was rolled upon the drag, the oxen were slowly started, and Dave followed. I watched the curious funeral proces- sion until it passed out of sight. Dave did not change his position, for I could see his bowed head and stooping shoulders when everything else had passed out of sight over the summit of the little hill. Samthe driver of the oxentold me next day that when they reached the grave Dave insisted on being left alone to bury Belle. He was not seen again until the long sum- mer day was over. At sundown he came sadly back to the old barn. After this Dave went about the place as usual, but seemed less jovial and less able to do chores for every- body. He began to look white and old. I found that he was not eating proper food, and made arrangements to have him boarded near by. He was never known to drink after Belle died. He became very forgetful. People could see that his chores were almost done, and began to speak about it. He lived just a year after the old mares death. I was with him when lie died. It was in his little room near Belles empty stall. He had sent for me, but before I reached his side he had become delirious and kept muttering something to himself. I thought I overheard the word Belle several times, and at last, in a puzzled, dizzy sort of way, he stared at me, suddenly grasped my hand, looked eagerly out of the window and shouted Eliza- beth ! Then lie threw his head back and Dave Gurney was dead. But it was all made plain enough at the funeral. I took pains to have the notice of Daves death published in the Boston papers. I hardly know why, unless it was because I had found so much about the old man that I could not explain. It was well I did so. After the service at the grave was over, an old woman, a stranger, came quietly to where I was standing. It was from DAVE. her that I learned all about Dave Gurney. EDITORS TABLE. 123 He had been a brilliant young man, had established himself in business in the city of New York. His engage- ment to the daughter of a well-known lawyer of that city had been duly pub- lished. One day his unconscious body was taken from the ruins of a building which had gone down in a raging storm. He was taken to a hos- pital, and gradually recovered. But his entire past life was blotted out; he remembered nothing. Friends cared for him, but that became unnecessary after a few years. They told him his name, and he accepted it. Then, in the course of time, he went his way. For a few years some of his old asso- ciates kept sight of him, but at length he disappeared even from them perhaps even from their thoughts. He must have drifted about until he came to Cliffboro, where he had lived for twenty years. I am so grateful to you, said the old lady, for having the notice of his death published ! I saw that her lips trembled. Then I asked her if she would tell me her Christian name; and she replied: They call me Elizabeth. EDITORS TABLE. Our policy in regard to Europe, which was adopted at an early stage of the wars which have so long agitated that quarter of the globe, nevertheless remains the same, which is, not to in- terfere in the internal concerns of any of its powers. That is a part of the lVtonroe doctrine. It is a sentence from the same famous message of 1823, in which President Monroe de- dared that the American continents are henceforth not to be considered as subjects for future colonization by any European power, and that we should consider any attempt on the part of the allied powers to extend their system to ~ny portion of this hemisphere as dangerous to our peace and safety. The two parts of the doctrine were intended in the minds of the framers to balance each other. Europe for Europeans was the correlate and con- dition of America for Americans. We would have nothing to do with European concerns; and by the same tokenthat was the dictumno European power should have anything to do with matters on this side of the Atlantic. It would seem to be the very irony of fate whereby it has come to pass that at the precise time when we have been listening to such a shriek of America for Americans~~ as was never heard be- fore, and witnessing an attempt to push the Monroe doctrine, on its one side, to the extremest applications and to such definitions as would have made its mild and prudent author turn in his grave, we have been forced by the sheer exigency of cruel facts and the pressure of public opinion, finding ex- pression from one end of the republic to another, to exert our influence in the concerns of Europe in a sharper and more significant manner than we have ever done since Monroes own time. The passage of the resolutions by Con- gress, reciting the horrors of the atrocities in Armenia, rebuking the great European powers for not putting an end to them, directing attention to what we conceived to be neglect of their treaty obligations in the matter, and instructing the President to for- ward the resolutions to each of the governments concerned, was indeed a noteworthy departure from the letter of the Monroe doctrine and from our traditional policy of non-intervention and silence regarding the doings of the nations of Europe. More noteworthy than the formal resolutions of Congress, couched as 124 EDITORS TABLE. these were in the strongest terms, were the arguments by which they were supported, recognizing our own obli- gations as well as those of the Euro- pean governments to the outraged thousands, who much more than sub- jects of the Turkish empire were mem- bers of the human race. In Congress and out of Congress have been heard multiplied declarations of feeling that our duty was not done by the mere passage of resolutions. In a hundred speeches men have said that our new white gunboats, of which we vaunt so much, were poor creatures, existing to slight and inglorious ends, if, in the presence of these terrible wrongs to our common humanity, they were not straightway headed for the Bosphorus, and kept there, in the lack of some equally drastic English or Russian epiphany, until the sultan restored order and decency in his dominions. Some zealous Massachusetts Chris- tians even secured the introduction of a bill in Congress, calling upon the President to appoint a citizen of the United States to negotiate with the heads of Christian nations throughout the world with a view to the dethrone- ment of the sultan, the election of a Christian president of Turkey, and the establishment of a new United States of Turkey on strictly Christian prin- ciples! From I)ulPits and platforms and newspapers have come demands that we should co6perate with England in this great human duty, while our reck- less partisans were seeking to influence vulgar passion against her on the most trivial of pretexts in the very hour of her most solemn claim upon us. From England herself, from English voices xvhich we honor, the word has been echoed back, emphasizing the desire that the stress of these times might prove to be the means of bind- ing England and America closer to- gether in activities which shall make for the worlds health and wealth. The whole situation has been one cal- culated to impress on all men who think the folly and antiquity of the talk which the world has heard so much of, about Europe for Europeans and America for Americans, and the truth that the only word which has place or potency for the future is, The World for IVIan. If there is wicked- ness in Turkey or in Cuba or in Ire- land, it is the concern of their nearest neighbors first, of those standing in most organic political relations with them; but ultimatelyand the ulti- mate is with each decade more proxi- mateit is the concern, of every na- tion, and every one will pay the penalty if it does not discharge its obligation. If there is barbarism and inhumanity in Texas, in the Rocky Mountains, in Boston hotels, it is the concern first, as it is the shame first, of New England, of the Southland, of the West; but it is the concern also of London, of Berlin, of Geneva, and of China. For there is to-day a new earth, and the nexv earth is one great neighborhood, on its way to becoming one great fan~ily. For mankind are one in spirit, and an in- stinct hears along, Round the earths electric circle, the swift flash of right or wrong; Whether conscious or unconscious, yet Hu- manitys vast frame Through its ocean-sundered flhres feels the gush of joy or shame In the gain or loss of one race all the rest have equal claim. -* * We are not likely to see our Presi- dent and Congress taking the initia- tive in establishing~ a new United States of Turkey within the current year. V.~e are not likely to see our White Squadron in the Bosphorus; we do not say that we should be glad to see it despatched thither. But we do say that a crisis very little different from that which has just passed, if it has passed, would make us glad to see it there; and we say that the deep feel- ing of horror and of wrath, deeper than has found expression in almost any European quarter, which has prompted so wide and common a demand for active American interference in this European concern, does credit to our EDITORS TABLE. 125 people not only as human beings but as politicians in training for the federa- tion of the world. The spectacle which has been witnessed in Turkey during the last two years is the most disgraceful spectacle, in view of the hour which has struck in the world, which history records,the most disgraceful to the nations which have permitted it and were primarily re- sponsible for preventing it. That for two years the great nations of Europe, whose borders groan with idle armies, whose navies crowd the seas, should look calmly on while sixty thousand mortals, men, women, children, were deliberately slaughtered at their gates, each newspaper bringing tidings of new massacres, to be treated with the same inattention as those which went before,all this seems incredible. Yet for two years -it has gone on. Steadily and uninterruptedly the mur- dering has proceeded, each month new thousands. Month by month the doomed and helpless victims have implored Europe for protection; and Europe has looked on passively, her hands in her pockets, as at a game in a cockpit. The power which perpe- trates or permits these bloody deeds is a poxver which continues to exist among European governments only by sufferance. The great European nations have made themselves respon- sible for it. One word from those na- tions, acting in concert, -would settle its fate. One word from England or Russia alone, spoken in manifest earnest, and backed up by any show of force, would compel obedience and order. But that manifestation has not been madelest, forsooth, some com- plication should ensue which should threaten the balance of power in Europe. Every consideration of hu- manity has been postponed to this political regard. It is a melancholy chapter of history, and a terrible in- dictment of the present European system. Yet when we say this, what do we have to remember? That when the strong and noble resolutions upon this subject, with their just indictment of the European powers, were passed by Congress, many American voices were raised to pronounce them impru- dent and unwise. Especially impolitic, it is urged, is it for us to interfere with the concerns of the European powers at the present time, thus doing despite ourselves to one side of the Monroe doctrine at the very moment that xve are so strenuously insisting on the other. It is xvith poor grace that we can continue to shout America for Americans, if with the same breath we are refusing to leave European con- cerns entirely to Europeans. Let con- siderations of humanity be postponed to this political regard. Let the Mon- roe doctrine be true, and every man a liar. The whole situation shows us what a new epoch we have come to in the progress of the world, and what folly it is not to recognize it and shape our politics to it as quickly as possible. The new wine of this great prophetic time cannot be kept in the old bottles. The balance of power in Europe has got to be established some- how on a quite new and different ground, on the ground that the na- tions are codperating friends and neighbors, not enemies glowering at each other, watching for chances to hurt each others trade or spring at each others throats. America has got to get over the notion, born of condi- tions so radically unlike those of to- day, that the eastern and western hemispheres are two worlds, with in- terests separate and opposed, instead of simple neighbors as truly as Mich- igan and Ontario or Belgium and France. We stand in no different political relations to Bolivia and Brazil, in point of principle, from those in which we stand to Germany and England; the interests of Switzerland and Greece are just as much our in- terests as those of Uruguay and Para- guay; and if there is deviltry in Turkey, it is as imperatively our concern as deviltry in Patagonia or Peru. But the Monroe doctrine? It de 126 EDITORS TABLE. dares that we shall not interfere in the internal concerns of any European power. And is the Monroe doctrine not plenarily inspired? If it comes into conflict with the claims of hu- manity, shall we not say, So much the worse for the claims of humanity? That is the issue. Shall we say that, or shall we say, So much the worse for the Monroe doctrine? Shall we make Monroes creed our jailer? Shall we make the truth of seventy years ago our falsehood, hoarding it in mouldy parchments, or shall we recognize with joy and zeal that new occasions teach new duties, and rise to the occa- sions and duties of our great new time with the same independence and cour- age and vision with which James Mon- roe and John Quincy Adams rose to theirs? * * * What is the great new occasion and new duty of our time? It is the occa- sion and duty of cosmopolitanism. Whatever our love of home, whatever our local patriotism, whatever our duties as citizens of the city, the state and the nation, we have to see from now on that none of these sentiments is just and true, that none of these duties is wisely or righteously done, which conflicts with our sentiment and duty as citizens of the world. There was a time when a mans patriotism and sense of political obligation were bounded by his citys walls. It was so once in Athens, it was so once in Florence, so in Venice, in Nuremberg, in Hamburg and fIremen and Ghent. Virginia and Carolina found it hard to realize that the nation was a truer unit, a more integral and lovable thing, than themselves,the object and com- mander of a nobler consecration. The Florentine loves Florence none the less as an Italian; the citizen of Ham- burg is no less a citizen of Hamburg because he is now a citizen too of an empire; the Virginian is not less proud of the great traditions of his state because he is coming to an ade- quate sense of the meaning and authority of the republic; South Caro lina will become ashamed of nullifica- tion and secession, as the years roll~ but she will never cease to glory in the fact that it was her own Christopher Gadsden who exclaimed in the first Continental Congress: There ought to be no New England man, no New Yorker, known on the continent, but all of us Americans ! It is not the man nor the community who loves the large thing, that is lacking in love to the small; not the one who is faithful to the duty to the world, that is faith- less to the duty to the home. If there be in the broad borders of the nation a city whose people count themselves citizens of no mean city, whose people are proud of their history and traditions, their municipal spirit and corporate life, such a city surely is Boston; if there be a state in the Union whose people believe in themselves, are jealous of their rights and of their fame, a state where local patriotism is deep and potent, such a state is Massa- chusetts; yet it has been Boston and Massachusetts which have stood, in the great conflict of the century, as the very centres of assertion of the dom- inance of the national sovereignty over every local right. The smoker at the club and the Philistine pass their cheap and easy strictures upon the men who are send- ing gospel and schoolmaster to Asia and Africa and the isles of the sea. Are there not heathen at home, they say; is there not wretchedness in the sixth ward; why do they not aftend to the duty which lies nearest thenH~ But the critics cash-book cannot bide comparison with that of the other man in its home mission column. The man whose heart goes out to the suf- fering antipodes is the man, we find, whose heart goes out to the sufferers around the corner; and the Boston or Chicago citizen who does most for Boston or Chicago is he on whom we call most confidently for sympathy for Cuba and relief for Armenia. There is no law of parsimony in the soul. Giving is getting there. Each wider interest, if it be real and commanding, EDITORS TABLE. 127 makes the narrower interest, if it be worthy, dearer, more fertile and more eloquent; each circle of our love, xvhere love is holy, pnshes ns on to larger circles, and yet larger, while the smaller circle grows ever fuller and ever holier still. Who is the tiue American? Is it the braggart and the bristler, the man who has nothing to learn, who would build a wall between America and other lands, or would array America against the world; or is it Emerson, is it Lowell, is it Sumner, who sees that the true grandenr of nations lies in neighborhood, fraternity and peace? Are these the Americans to whom the Hudson, the Alleghanies and the corn- fields are least beautiful, or who least understand the meaning of Plymouth Rock and Bunker Hill and Gettys- burg? Who is the true Englishman? Is it the Tory and the jingo; or is it Gladstone, beginning his life with the Neapolitan Letters and ending it in the service of Bulgaria and Armenia? Is it this international man who does not care for Arthur and Alfred and Lang- ton and Wyclif and Burke? Is it Tennyson, singing of the parliament of man and the federation of the world, whose patriotism is dried up, who can sing no more of England, and for whom Cambridge and Lincolnshire, the Thames and Severn, the castle walls, the cathedral tower, the ivied lane, the village chnrch and the cot- tage in the roses have lost their charm? * * * This is a time, unhappily, when in many American circles speech about internationalism and cosmopolitanism is not relished. It may all be very amiable and good on general princi- ples, but at the present juncture it in- terferes with that lively self-assertion which makes us feel vigorous, wins popular applause, helps on the hun- dred million dollar armament, and makes England understand that we are not to be trifled with. Americanism~~ this vigorous self-assertion is called and patriotism; and we are told that the time has not yet come when a substitute for patriotism can be found in milk-and-water cosmopolitanism.~ Vie are told it by no less excellent a man, among others, than Mr. Roose- velt, whom we all love for the good that he has done and the enemies that he has made. He declared it to us the other day along with exceeding fierce denun- ciations of college professors. It was a lamentable fact that college professors existed! The plain people did not trust the professors,. because they doubted their Ameri-~ canisim And how is it that the col- lege professors have proved them- selves un-American~~ in a way thus to rouse Mr. Roosevelts ire? Why, they have almost to a man,those of them who teach history and law,risen to remark that President 1\Ionroe s mes- sage of 1823 had no reference to issues such as are involved in the Venezuelan boundary dispute. Because they have done this, Mr. Roosevelt pronounces it an error to treat the Monroe doctrine from an academic standpoint. We must infer that he would have this question of historic fact settled not by scholars, but by the plain people.~ If the doctrine which he himself champions did not already exist, he believes we should be in honor bound to create it. We concede instantly that that is a proper matter to submit to the plain people, to the nation. But no vote can alter history; and no scholar can abdicate his function which is to tell the truthto serve the passing needs of politicians or add fuel to any fire of popular frenzy. What- ever the sympathies or desires of the scholars of the country, college pro- fessors or others, it is to their great honor that, in the late unhappy crisis, they refused their sanction to the his torical appeal by which jingo politi- cians sought to strengthen their case with the plain people. Mr. Roose- velt will see this clearly enough when the storm and stress are past. We trust that he will then see also that patriotismif it be true and worthy patriotism, and not that last resort of 128 OMNIBUS. scoundrels which Dr. Johnson spoke of and which we ourselves too often see loquacious patriotism in danger of becomingis not opposed to cosmo- politanism, but only finds its true character and unfolding in that. Cosmopolitanism is indeed no sub- stitute for patriotism, as love for the state is no substitute for love for the city, andlove forthe nation no substitute for love for the state. But of all political sentiments of the human heart it is the most red-blooded, throbbing with that one blood of which God made. all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth. The assertion of this sentiment is what appeals chiefly to-day to duty, to prophecy, to chivalry and to courage. It is not courage to appeal to the passions and prejudices of a people, however vigorous we may feel in the doing of it. It is courage to appeal to the future, to be among the pioneers of a better order. The better political order, of the future is that of international fraternity. The promotion of that is our highest duty; The time to speak for it most strongly is the time when the movement toward it is in any way hindered or threatened. The tyrannies and horrors in Armenia have been a solemn reminder to us, in the dangerous hour of the frenzy over the Venezuelan quarrel, of our obligations to the great family of nations and of men. OMNIBUS. VALENTINE. If twere Spring, Id bring thee posies, Search the woods and fields around, Where I know the flowers abound, Mayflowers sweet, and early roses, If twere Spring. If twere Summer, I would send thee Roses, lilies, sweet and fair, Blossoms fragrant for thine hair, If they might, new grace to lend thee. But the snow is barely gone; Winter waits Springs early dawn. If twere Fall, the reddened leaves Should for thee a chapiet make: I would pluck them for thy sake, Crown thee queen amid the sheaves, Crown thee fairest of the fair, 0 my queen with gold-brown hair If twere Fall. But the Winter holds his sway, Spring is still upon the way, Fall and Summer wait afar; So I may but bring to thee What the season leaves to me: Just my heart, this winter day, Just my heart, 0 thou my star! Abbie Farwell Browi. * * MAUDES VALENTINE. Last year I rhymed a valentine, And penned it on a dainty sheet Of pink note paper; and I laid The offering at Kates feet. I have a copy here at hand: Oh! Dearest Kate! the lines begin; Oh! Dearest Kate has married since, And now I strive fair Maude to win. And so to-night I take my pen And, as my muse is slow of late, I use that valentine again, Just substituting Maude for Kate. Ellis Parker b~qtler. TIlE WAVERL~Y OAKS IN WINTER

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THE NEW ENGLAND MAGAZINE. APRIL, 1896. VOL. xlv. No. 2. LATER AMERICAN MASTERS. By l4~illi Howe Downes and Frank Torrey Robinson. N a previous article * we have brought the his- tory of Amen- can art up to the preseut day, and to living or lately deceased painters. VvTe recall mauy fine works by living Americau paint- ers, many works which, in the course of years of wanderings in picture galleries aud studios iu mauy cities, have given us great pleasure and have left ineffaceable impressions ou our memory. We cannot forget the crisply aud skilfully paiuted figures so intent upou their labor iu the glass factory as seeu by C. F. Ul- rich; R. A. Blakelocks strangely orig- inal aud pathetic illustrations of In- dian life in the West aud of the glam- our of the moonlight as it floods the sleeping landscape in his wonderful though almost unknown series of small master-works; the silence aud melancholy of the autumu laudscape as depicted by the late William Bliss Baker; the flue cattle which thrive amoug the lovely hills of Berkshire as * Our American Old Masters, NEW ENGLAND MAGA- zINE, November, 1895. 531 paiuted so truthfully by Thomas Al- len; the almost human aspects of Wil- liam I-I. Beards menagerie of bears aud moukeys brushed iu with a hint of satire which is truly piquant; the af- fecting elegies of the peasauts life told with such poetic seutimeut by Dwight W. Tryou; Auschutzs dra- matic story of the irou workers; those life-warm portraits by the lamented Dennis M. Bunker; the mellow, rich- toued landscapes of Fraucis Murphy; Thonias Morans sceuic pages of wild landscape in the far West; Charles H. Daviss quiet aud tender bits of country; Prank D. Millets finished WINSLOW HOMER. NEW SERIES. 132 LATER AMERICAN MASTERS. delineations of pretty episodes in the tavern and the drawing- room; William F. Nortons ever welcome old and new sea tales; Thomas Eakinss severe and searching aetnali- ties; the battle scenes of Gilbert Ganl, Thnle De fhnlstrnp and Frederick Rem- ington; the splendor and mystery of Alex- ander Harrison~ s snrf and sea by moonlight; Thomas W. Dew ngs blne and THULE DL THULSTRUP, gr en parlor ele- ances; Charles Melville Deweys sweet landscapes; the qnaint, amos- ing and veracions types of old New England Yankee character torever embalmed in the hnmorons bnt not J. FRANCIS MURPHY. nnloving works of Howland, Henry and Har- ris; and so we might mn on, re- cording onr rec- ollections of all these and many other American painters, bnt we mnst be brief as possible. All the men named, with others that we shall mention are painstaking artists, painters of repntation, exer- cising to the fnll- est extent the tal- ents which ave been given the by Providence. Some of them have been martyrs to their devo- tion to art, working for years nnder hard and terrible conditions of pov- erty and neglect, nnrecognized and qnite alone in the midst of the bnsy world; others, more fortunate or more politic, have promptly presented their claims to the worlds rewards, and have been as promptly paid; all these painters forming the gronndwork, the detail, so to say, which has made ~t possible for the sthetic movement ~n this conntry to make headway against the paralyzing obstacles of mdi er- ence and sordid commercialism. Shall we say which painter in time is to be the great man? No. Stndy of American pictorial art, past and present, observation, research and as- sociation with kindred spirits have combined to force us to the conclu- sion that we possess five American masters. We say we, bnt shonld say rather the world possesses them, for art knows no conntry, realm, or time. The immortals to whom we allude are Winslow Homer, the recluse; George Jnness, the seer; John LaFarge, the colorist; James Whistler, the sym 33 GEORGE INNESS. 34 LATER AMERICAN MASTERS. phonic Whistler; and, lastly, A. P. Ryder. Following closely after these leaders, and possessing rich qualities of perception, imagination and color, we should mention such distinguished artists as John Sargent, Abbott Thay- er, Thomas Hovenden, Walter Shir- law, R. Swain Gifford, George Vv~. Maynard, Douglas Volk, Lonis Moel- ler, George DeForest Brush, R. A. Blakelock, Marcus Waterman, Elihu Vedder, Siddons Mowbray and East- man Johnson. One may perhaps ask, Are there not others as important as these? Where are Dewing, Low and Blash- field? Where are such men as Words- worth Thompson, D. W. Tryon and Childe Hassam? No hard-and-fast classification of artists into groups can be altogether just. It is the ex- ceptions which prove the rule. But it is to be remarked that not all of these artists are original, and that a man who follows ought not to be ranked with the inventors, the origi- nators, and the pioneers of thought. Dewing, Kenyon Cox and their ilk will probably be superseded in a dec- ade or so by superior women painters in the same phase of art,there are those who press them closely, so to say, already. The Alma Tadema, or Neo-Greek genre is something that can be taught and handed down; genius is not to be transmitted. But let us analyze, if that be possi- ble, some of the qualities of the men best worth considering, those who stir the heart to pleasure, the mind to stimulating thoughts, and the eyes to the enjoyment of splendid color and form. Our first introduction may well be to that discreet and well balanced painter, William M. Chase. He has few weak points, his color is always acceptable, and he seldom nods over his work. He is in a sense a portraitist in what- ever he paints. Nervous energy, coupled with keen perceptions, and at times brilliant strokes, weld his best works together. They are skilfully constructed, and even the inanimate accessories seem to be alive. Whether it is by the sea or in a city park, whether it is a dainty girl or a great lady, whether the garb is of pink or sombre gray, he sees his subject in his own way, combines fact with fancy, WILL H. LOW. R. SWAIN GIFFORD. LATER AMERICAN MASTERS. 35 JAMES MCNEJLL XT~THISTLER and gives both with a bold and crisp accent thongh withont the gloss of imagination. Chase will snrvive his time as a portrait painter on acconnt of his style. His Mother and Child and his portraits of Little Miss C. and of Alice Diendonn~e Chase testify to his force and scope as well as any of his works. One notes an almost scnlptnral feeling in the costnmes, and there can be no qnestion abont the character reading. Chase has never made a lazy portrait; his natnre is fnll of confidence; he dares, and his exe- cntion eqnals his daring. Next we come to an exotic, another type, yet more distinct, more pro- nonnced as a portrait painter. To this artists name we may well append the word style, for in onr opinion he is one of the most distingnished and gracefnl fignre interpreters living. We have felt at times, however, that this man, John Sargent, was not nnlike the Etrnscan image makers,whose bronzes we adore for their tender movement 136 LATER AMERICAN MASTERS. of lines, even though they be exterior only. Sargent is incapable of com- mitting a breach of etiquette on can- vas. His portrait of Ellen Terry, even though she is hidden under the guise of Lady Macbeth, reveals more of the ~esthetic sentiment of a Terry than of the monster of ambition conceived by Shakes p ear e. Sargent is not dramatic; he does not make his figures pose; and as he sees but one way in which his subject can be painted, he gives it a certain statu- esque aspect. That is the dom- inating quality of his temperament, and the sitter must sit as he has conceived the picture. This is an eminent qual- ity for a portrait painter to pos- sess, and we trust we shall not be misunderstood to mean it in the photograph operators sense, the sense of a petrified and arrested life. No, Sargents figures have unmistakable life, and one never sees the same por- trait by him but it looks different, just as one sees the members of ones own household, ever changing, never twice alike. Sargent is happiest with nat- ural beauty, youth, and graceful forms. The Egyptian girl, shown at the Worlds Fair, lives and moves and is saturated with the pride and dignity characteristic of that old race. There is nothing insipid or assumed in that face. It is as candid as a June sunrise, and as suggestive of sweet accord with truth and sentiment as a garden flower. The Boit children, the Mother and Child, the lovely picture of little Bea- trice Goelet, and the well-known por- trait of Miss Burkhardt exhibit the miracle of this creative, spontaneous and original art. Let us now turn for a moment to the extreme limit of the range of our pictorial arts, and revel in the deli- cious color-mosaics of John LaFarge. When we call him one of our immor- tals we do not think there will be one jealous soul among the artists of the country, for they themselves would doubtless place upon his head the laurel wreath. From his earliest youth his art has had an even, un- interrupted and steady growth. The flowers were his companions in his boyhood; their colors en- chanted him; he and they in some mysterious man- ner exchanged secrets. He has ever breathed the sweetest and most magnificent color, making it MARCUS WATERMAN. F. D. MILLET. LATER AMERICAN MASTERS. 37 the powerful and persuasive vehicle of his imagina- tion, and he has thus stirred the sensitive spirits of his kind the world over. He can be studied in his flowers in the rose, the water- lily, and the lotus. We find the spir- itual head of St. John the Baptist, painted early in his career, among the sixties; The Madonna and The Crucifixion~~ and The Ascen- sion followed, as monumental fres- coes; and these works have, with other cathedral paintings, become the glowing rec- ords of his religious zeal in art. His Wolf Charmer, so original and so human, so wonderful as a parable, re- veals an almost divine insight into the nature of things. He makes this weird musician touch a chord which tames the ferocious beast, and at the same time he strikes a chord in us which responds. LaFarge is not only a creative artist, who sees for himself, and makes a world of his own. He is an artist also who paints as if inspired by pure feeling. He has drawn a fig- ure of the Great Ogre, and almost endowed him with breath, so intensely vitalized is his herculean frame. LaFarges art is composed chiefly of two great elements, the one being his gift of celestial color, and the other being his love for beauty. This he ha. the joy to find in the simplest things, from the wild flower to the ecstatic expression on the saintly countenanc the blossom of the wayside bush and of human faith. Such are the open gates through which his art leads us, through which he passes freely, finding few fel- low-travellers to elbow him on his way. Glass gives him an unequalled material in which to write his most powerful mes- sages to the hearts of men, with which to form his splendid mosaic diadems, and no living artist stands anywhere near him in the com- mand and com- prehension of these brittle ve- hicles of opal- escent glory. In making colored glass sing hymns for him, he seems to set his palette in the fiery fur- nace, mocking the tones of the flames, and causing these glowing currents to flow in a living stream, incandescent, dazzling, and brilliant beyond com- pare. In Japan, in Samoa, in France, in America, anywhere, LaFarge holds up the torch of flamboyant color, of light, of fire, giving new and thrilling sensations to the world of art. We DOUGLAS yOLK. ALFRED c. HOWLAND. 138 LATER AMERICAN MASTERS. could not give, were we to devote all our space to this one subject, an ade- quate idea of this wonderful mans achievements. To posterity the full recognition of his worth must be left. Let us try to appreciate such men to- day, and not leave it all to posterity to sing their praises long after they shall be gone. When we fancy ourselves being shown about our new world, not like Asmodeus abroad, but rather like those who are seeking to know where the Creator has lodged His germs of genius, and to study the manner of their growth, our wanderings have been rewarded by the discovery of several marvels. Conspicuous among the American artists who may be said literally to live for their art alone is that profound original genius, that guide to all great human epics of the untamed sea and the unexplored wil- derness, Winslow Homer. Him we see first as the special historian of the battlefields and the camps and the marches of the War of the Rebel- lion, the studious chron- icler of the picturesque episodes of negro life in the now so far-away war times. Later he be- comes the dramatic and intensely real exponent of the hard lives of American fishermen and sailors, and the vivid painter of the frontiers- mans existence and the rude exploits of the brave woodsman and hunter. Here we have a veritable art pioneer, battling his own way, translating the language of the homely, rough- and-ready workers in the primeval forests, on the wave-swept decks of ships, in the trenches of the Virginia campaigns; and there is as genuine an accent of vital truth and heroism in these simple annals as was ever heard since art began. Wins- ELIHU VEDDER. EDWIN A. ABBEY. LATER AMERICAN MASTERS. 39 low Homers foot- steps may be traced through many a league of solitary explora- tion. There is the character in his work which shows, plainly that he, is incapable of treading in the paths worn by others feet. We see him in the depths of the North Woods, by the dashing stream where the fisherman lives alone in his squalid hut; we see him on the mountain side amidst the stumps of the dismal clearing, with the gray-bearded Adi- rondack guide for his comrade; we see him shooting the rapids in a canoe with the hardy woodsmen, the sturdy types of the American hunter and pio- neer, brave, tough, and true,types which we shall be glad to have pre- served for future history. Now we stand with him where tremen- dous breakers dash against the rocky shore, and the black, whirl- ing, angry clouds roll in an awful tumult in the tempestuous sky. Drenched with spray, we watch the stalwart fisher-girls in the raging surf, as they bend to their oars and urge their dory towards the struggling craft which has struck on yonder fatal ledge in the wild storm. Again, in more peaceful scenes, we are interested in the farmers toil, so sympathetically and so shrewdly observed; in the far- mer who, burdened with cornstalks, goes out to the dried-up pasture to feed his starving cattle, and in all those fellow-men of ours of whose lives, full of struggles, of want, of woe, and of heroism, we know so little. Indeed, Winslow Homer is the most original observer, and the most truly and ex- clusively national painter ever reared in America. He knows the American sailor and woodsman as Burns knew the canny Scotchmen and as 1\lillet knew the French peasantry. We will 140 LATER AMERICAN MASTERS. ask you to look with us, in fancy, at his now cele- brated picture called Eight Bells. The scene is laid on the quarter-deck of a Gloucester fishing schooner. Here are the cap- tain and the mate of the tempest- tossed craft, try- ing to get a noon observation to as- certain their where a b o u t s. The men are clad in their oilskin suits and son- westers the armor of the modern sea- kings; and, with quadrant and sextant in hand, the calculations are being made under difficulties. What sturdy sailor-men! How bravely they will meet their fate, whatever it may be! What quiet and cool and modest natures, rough on the outside, but ready for any heroic enterprise! The wind JOHN J. ENNEKING. whistles through the cordage, the seas sweep the decks, but we feel that the furious elements must obey the com- mands of these masterful souls, and that in the long run mind must conquer matter. Bravo, Homer! You make us realize that our lives ashore are tame and flat indeed in comparison with those of these latter-day Vik- ings of the New England breed. Like Thoreau, Winslow Homer isarecluse, for the reason thatartof the sort he lives for is incompatible with the amenities of society. He lives in a lonesome spot on the coast of Maine. His sole companions are natural and unsophisticated beings, outdoor folk, hunters, fishermen, sailors, farmers. No artificial refinements, no etiquette of the drawing-room, no afternoon tea chatter, no club gossip, for this hermit of the brush. God is King of all where he lives, and as His subject he faith- fully portrays the infinite wonders of His realm. We are only too well aware that we have given our readers but a mere glimpse of this powerful and unique master, a mere hint of his greatness; but in him we may without extravagance lay claim to the posses- sion of one of the few living painters of the world who can be called great artists. We come now to another historian of American life, Thomas Hovenden, of whose numerous important works it will be necessary to glance only at two examples, which are sufficiently typical to give us a good idea of his measure as an artist. These works FREDERIC P. vINTON. LATER AMERICAN MASTERS. 4 are his famous John Brown and his less known Chloe and Sam. In the magnitude of the coneeption the John Brown picture is still scarcely appre- ciated at its full value; but as time goes on, we believe it must become more and more treasured by the Amer- ican people as a true delineation of one of the most important events in their countrys history. It has been well said that the artist affords us a glimpse of the martyrs soul just as it what convincing force Hovenden has pictured the man and the cause for which he so nobly laid down his life! This will stand as one of the greatest and most sincere paintings of history and patriotism ever produced on the continent and inspired by an Ameri- can historical incident. As for the Chloe and Sam, to which we have referred, no words of description would begin to do justice KENYON cox. goes forth to march on in behalf of human freedom. Brown stands on the prison steps, with the rope about his neck. He has just kissed a negro hild, and with that kiss he may almost be said to have set the seal of liberty upon an enslaved race. For the throng of guards and on-lookers and idlers we do not much carethey are there as accessories and to fulfil the historic verities; but to us the halo hangs over one head, the head of that old man who dared to express his opin- ions and to act on them, the opinions which were to be those of the nation. One does not notice the drawing, the color, the composition, the light and shade; it is all John Brown. With WiLLIAM F. HALSALL. DRAWN BY HIMSELF. XV. M. CHASE. 242 M. F. H. DE HAAS. LATER AMERICAN MASTERS. 43 to the familiar accuracy, the humorous sympathy, and the real iuterest of this unpretentious picture of au old negro man and his wife in the humblest of homes. It might be classed alone as an adequate and authentic portrayal of the African race under American conditions. Let us turn abruptly to another painter of distinction, in a special vein quite unlike that of the men we have been discussing. In H. Siddons Mow- bray we have a colorist and man of imagination, a wonderful narrator of fanciful tales, with ample knowledge and manual skill in the practice of his craft. Without further comment upon his abilities, let us try to discover what there is in his pictures. He paints, we will say, for instance, a scene in an Oriental harem painted, of course, from imagination. In this picture he is able to interpret the feelings of a new arrival a sweet young girl, fresh and prettywho is the evident object of the spiteful jealousy and venomous hate of the other wives; and he does this so well that the emotions of the harem are quite vividly laid bare to outside scrutiny. He paints a group of fairies floating over the meadows, and his fancy seems clothed with the im- palpable textures of the rose leaf and the cobweb. In his color there is a sensuous sentiment, a refinement that is well-nigh voluptuous, and it hints at the azure and violet hues of fluttering insects wings under the last pink rays of the setting sun. Linked with his strong love for the beautiful and the delicate and the dainty there is a complete con- ception of inci- dent which is cer- tain to make his pictures interest- ing. In fine, Mowbray is one of the few American painters who give us the visible realization of dreams, fantastic and sprightly tales of the wonder-world, in a gay and appetiz- ing gamut of novel tones vouchsafed to few. How different is the subterranean vein worked by Elihu Vedder, whose imagination gravitates naturally to sombre and de- pressing themes. He is a man of great gifts, com- manding a re- markable power of expression, and endowed with much earn- estness of spirit and much orig- inality of thought and style. Yet his style is not agreeable, for it is heavy, and he sometimes clothes his ideas CHiLDE HASSAM. WiLLIAM H. BEARD. 44 LATER AMERICAN MASTERS. in grotesque gar- ments, which weigh them down. Never- theless a man cannot get rid of his birth-mark, and it is the strong men who exhibit the most striking idiosyn- crasies. Vedder cannot be count- ed out of the circle of great American paint- ers. The cast of his mind is too peculiar to him- self, his convic- tions are too mighty, and in some of his flights he has reached too high a plane of im- aginative force. He never fails to be true to himself, even when he is under the spell of a nightmare. When he appears to be joking, do not trust him; he is never in a jesting mood. H. SIDDONS MOWBRAY. He would have made a wonder- ful caricaturist, perhaps the greatest in the world, but his thrusts would have drawn blood. He never reminds you of any other painter, and no other painter ever re- minds you of him. He has the courage to enter the realms of Dante and of Rabelais; he has the courage to stand apart from the currents of contemporary thought, to fol- low his own soli- tary road, with- out associates, without the support of fashion. Vedder, in one of his oddest veins, has shown us his conception of The Last Man, surrounded by the skeletons of his dead comrades, of his dead hopes and passions, of all that made life tolerable in fact, and steeped in despair in a dead world. The poor creature appears to be crucified, over- looking a chaos; he is without promise of a future, without hope, without sun- light; it is the tragic end of humanity a horrible vision. Shall we for a moment accept this climax of history as possible, the indescribable sterility of this annihilation as logical? No, a thousand times, no! We refuse to admit that life is to be thus extin- guished miserably in a sea of tears, wiped out in terror and despair. We instinctively rebel against any such surrender; yet the work, it must be admitted, makes a profound impres- sion. For this artist, however gloomy, is always impressive. He is a great draughtsman, a great composer. Like a poet, he chooses his lines with the utmost tact and felicity in order to ASTMAN JOHNSON. LATER AMERICAN MASTERS. 45 obtain a rhythmic sweep and move- ment. He will always enlist the ar- dent admiration of certain followers, as surely as he will call forth the an- tagonism of a stnbborn opposition. But Vedder in the presence of nature is one of her most devoted, humble worshippers. There are landscapes of his and marine pieces as strong and sincere and vital as any we have be- held from an American brush. Cus- tomarily, however, Vedder seems to live in the air, so to speak, and these landscapes and marines are but the outcomes of his occasional excursions to onr planet. Such are our own im- pressions of a man who, we confess, does not appeal to our hearts, but whose lawless imagination and con- summate design at times almost ap- pall us. Vedder will last as long as the poets. He is deep, and we shall always wish to see his latest work. Another bright light in contempo- rary art is Douglas Volk, a western man, whose picture entitled Accused of Witchcraft gives him an eminently strong title to be classed among our most competent historical paint- ers. In this can- vas one notes at once the face of the poor child against whom the terrible charge has been brought. Has horror ever found a more perfect exposi- tion in a human countena n c e? Surely this is a remarkable ex- pose of those cruel, diabolical days wbich so darken the pages of our early his- tory. William F. Halsall, the ma- rine painter, has E. L. HENRY. also given us some stirring pictorial souvenirs of colonial times, perhaps the most important being the Arrival of the Mayflower in Plymouth Har- bor. Halsall has the pleasant faculty of con- structing inter- esting stories in all his pictures, and he has pro- duced a long series of graphic and dramatic narratives of ad- venture at sea. His details are trustworthy, and in all his work there is no mis- taking the time of day or season. He never at-~ tempts to depict a scene without making careful studies on the spot, whether the place be the top of Mount Wash- WORDSWORTH THOMPSON. 146 LATER AMERICAN MASTERS. J. ~ bL%UVVIN. ington in the dead of winter or the Roaring Forties of the fickle North Atlantic. His First Fight Between Ironclads was bonght by the United States government, and now hangs in the Capitol at Washington. If one is nnder the impression that Halsall is nothing more than a lit- eral realist, that is to say an artist withont mnch imagination, one has bnt to look at his painting of a Boston pilot boat plnnging down into the trongh of a mighty sea, off sonndings at dawn, amidst the hnge grayish- green waves which are jnst catching the first rays of the wintry snn on their foaming crests, and one will be nnde- ceived on this point; for it is evident that he knows and feels the wild poetry of the ocean, and that there is a strain of the old Norse sailors blood in his veins. A strong, frank, manly painter, standing far above the dnsty highway of mediocrity, is Walter Shirlaw, a great stndent of form and action, a fine designer, and a thoronghly original and intellectnal artist. AmQng his best works we shall mention only the well known Feeding the Geese, Toning the Bell, and Sheep-shear- ing in the Bavarian Highlands. His snbjects are not especially calcnlated to awaken the sentiment of the ideal, bnt his treatment of them is on the contrary extremely elevated, intelli- gent and sympathetic. He is a fine colorist within certain limitations, too. In the pictnre called Feeding the Geese one sees a healthy, bnxom farmers danghter flinging the corn to an eager flock of ponltry in the barn- yardthat is all. There is enongh in that for an illnstration, one may say, bnt scant motive for a painting. Qnite an error. Note the composition more carefnlly, the arrangement, the move- ment of the lines, the characterization of the fignre of the girl and of the geese, the accessories, the dish, the costnme, etc. Is not the scene in- formed with life and natnre? The solid drawing, the fine textnres, inva- riably jnst right, the nervons force, and the atmosphere of the locality, go W E. NORTON. LATER AMERICAN MASTERS. 47 to the formation of a truly united and harmonious whole. Shirlaw is a seri- ous and weighty painter, a great stu- dent of nature and art, and an influen- tial teacher. He is an admirable etcher as well. John J. Enneking is a landscape painter who comes easily within our category of contemporary artists whose works may be expected to survive the present period. Briefly, his strong points may be summed up in his ex- traordinary perception of natural phe- nomena and in his power to express the brooding, meditative, elegiac or twilight aspect of nature in New Eng- land. In other words he is a sweet singer of the day that is nearly done, of the beginning of night, of the gloam- lug. He is also a feeling interpreter of the voice of the lusty springtide, when all things outdoors are taking on new forms of beauty, when bud and blossom and fresh leaves and ver- dant field are gay with promise. His cattle are eager eaters in real pas- tures, not toys, not mere accents of x ~arm color in the landscape. No one paints the New England that we all know and love with more truthfulness than Enneking. John G. Brown is favorably known as the painter of street urchins, a class of subjects that he has made peculiarly his own in this country. He deserves a few respectful words from th& his- torian; the critic will step rather gin- gerly on this ground. Nevertheless JOHN 5. SARGENT. 148 LATER AMERICAN MASTERS. the future generations will attach con- siderable value to his delineations of the happy-go-lucky metropolitan gamin and other contemporary types of character, superficially studied, but authentic enough. Higher in the scale, because of su- perior penetration and a far more sat- isfactory order of workmanship, arc the small character pictures of Louis Moeller. A keen and good-natured student of human nature, a master of characterization, and a very subtle ob- server of certain phases of life, Moeller is pr& iminent among the native paint- ers of cabinet genre, a sort of compos- ite of lVfeissonier and Domingo, with qualities of his own superadded. His descriptions of old men, quaint types, such as book-worms, pedants, old- school gentlemen, chess-players, story- tellers, disputants and the like, are not only inimitable, they are masterpieces. Another remarkable artist, one who has, after much study in all the schools of painting, evolved a style of his own, is Eastman Johnson, who paints the rustic tramp, the peddler, the Ameri- can business man, the statesman, the old seamen of Nantucket, the soldier and the farmer, and paints them all well. In his Funding Bill we have the best picture ever made of the native magnates of commerce and finance; and in his Nantucket School of Philosophy we have a half-humor- ous, half-tender, and entirely delight- ful representation of a group of rugged sea codgers gathered in a convenient snuggery on a cold day to swap yarns. Johnsons pathetic picture of The Pension Agent recalls the Civil War and its countless personal sacrifices; and it is said to have had some influ- ence on the government policy with respect to the payment of pensions. Johnson is a prolific painter, his scope is enormous, and he has great vitality, although he has been before the public more than half a century. He paints with all the energy of a fresh student, and his color, which is strong and res- onant, contributes much to the refine- ment and masculine dignity of his style. He has painted the portraits of scores of publicists and statesmen. Maine should be proud of this gifted son. Still another New Englander claims our attention in R. Swain Gifford, whose pictures of his own rugged country by the sea coast, its deep woods and its brown autumn fields, are reckoned by the best judges to be of the first order of merit. We have stood spell-bound before his drifting October clouds, and the wide expanses of his cold and cheerless skies; the stubble in his fields, the gnarled and tough, wind-twisted trees, the uncom- promising and inhospitable landscape; and we have wondered how a man could bring before us such a dreary scene and yet force us to bow before it. Although he has travelled far in foreign lands, Gifford has ever re- mained true to his native New Eng- land. He stands alone among Amer- ican painters, especially in this particu- lar field which we have endeavored to indicate, and there is no one who can take his place. VVilliam L. Picknell must be set down as one of the sons of New Eng- land. He also is a landscape painter of the first order. He has painted much in Europe, but his Massachu- setts sand dunes, hillsides and country roads are his best works. It may be said with justice of his paintings that nowhere else shall you see a clearer atmosphere, a more solidly modelled earth, a more vigorous coloring, or a more complete representation of a real landscape. And yet it is equally true that he is niore of a painter than an artist. Picknell does not compose pretty scenes, but he drives home the facts of his subject with sledge-ham- mer blows, lie is a sort of second Courbet in his strength and in his virility. His pictures are frank, whole- some and honest, and they will mellow well with age because they are sound- ly painted. Of George Maynards works we must say a few words. He is a decora- tor in the truest sense. He is broader LATER AMERICAN MASTERS. 49 than a regiment of studio men, for he brings to his canvas a born colorists palette, and a style and cofuprehension of what is purely beautiful beyond the mere prettiness of ordinary drawing- room motives. His picture entitled In Strange Seas is a captivating group of sportive sirens gambolling amid the blue billows of the real ocean, an almost possible vision, attractively mingling the poetic and the actual. What grace of sinuous, buoyant ac- tion, xvhat unearthly suppleness, and what delicious delicacy, transparency and brilliancy of flesh painting! In these qualities Maynard isatleastequal to the best of the European painters, and we wish that we could honestly say that there are other artists coming forward who are capable of taking such a mans place. Those who follow us in this country will know and acknowledge, one day, their obligations to George DeForest Brush, for his fine historical portray- als of that fast-departing race, the aborigine of our continent, the native American. His Aztec sculptor, seated on a rug before the temples ponder- ous stone whereon he carves the sym- bols of his souls belief, is in substance the expression of man in his freest and most natural spirit. Heroic themes, the acts and achievements of the North American Indians, absorb Brushs thoughts; he depicts with splendid vigor the stalwart and hardy brave as he hunts the moose and as he rides headlong across the snow-covered plains with his enemys scalp dangling from his saddle-bow. In Mourning Her Brave he shows the slopes of a snowy mountain-side where a warrior is buried and his squaw gives herself up to griefa pathetic illustration of savage fidelity and the common lot of the children of men. His spirit takes a lofty view of art, his pencil seeks out every detail of anatomical truth, and we are sure that his works will find a choice place in the future national collection of American art which we can foresee. The manners and customs of a race which shall then have become extinct will be for- ever preserved for posterity in this in- valuable series. New England claims as her pro- geny many strong men among the American artists of the first rank, and one of the most deserving, one of the most remarkable of her sons, is Mar- cus Waterman, of Boston. We will first refer briefly to his New England wood interiors, which are his best xvorks in some respects, although they have not the striking imaginative qual- ities of his Oriental compositions and his extraordinary illustrations to the Thousand and One Nights. To our minds no other American artist begins to put so much color and beauty into his paintings of the woods; and we are not surprised to learn that Water- man feels niore at home in the depths of the New England forests when the wild flowers and the foliage are mid- way in their summer loveliness, than in any other place. There is a language of these old forest monsters, in the dignified solitudes of their habitations, which Waterman appears to compre- hend and to interpret in a masterly manner. True, his Maroof in the Desert, forsaken by his comrades, left to the hot sands and the unpitying sun and the hungry vultures, appeals forci- bly to the sympathy; and there is a barbaric glory in the Duel by Moon- light between the fierce inhabitants of the African wastes; the wondrous procession of people and beasts which wends its way in caravan fashion to the City of Brass curiously affects the imagination of the beholder; in his Arabian tableaux from Algiers and Tunis, aniong the camels, under the shadows of the palms, he shows us the dreamy splendors of the Orient of our ideal; but this marvellous artist is equallypowerful in his Vermontwoods and on his Cape Cod sand dunes. Like all true artists, he is interested in everything which possesses color and character; and the range of his practice takes in nude figures, warm with the ruddy life-current, animals of all sorts in their wild surroundings, 150 LATER AMERICAN MASTERS. and resplendent interiors of the en- ~chanted halls of the Aihambra. In all his works will be found the note of a true colorist, a profound student and observer, and an original, inventive and highly imaginative man. Quite distinct in his classin agree- able contrast to the realistic tenden- cies which are to be observed cropping out from time to time among our painters is Abbott Thayer, who might appropriately be introduced to your notice as the only American artist who has succeeded in painting a Madonna. In the purely spiritual domain, where women and children by right divine reign in conceded sov- ereignty, Thayer is a loving, high- minded, tender-hearted master of ex- pression. The time will come when the world will recognize and appreci- ate at its full worth his vision of the mothernot the divine mother, but the sxveet, pure, loving human mother; when it will see with his eyes the celes~ tial beauty of virtue shining in the faces of women who are true, making of them the types which heaven has given to man to worship; when it will see that his portraits of his children are sublime types also, personifications of gentleness, harmony and innocence. It is love which not only makes the world go round; it makes Thayer paint; it gives him his power; and we need no better proof of his superiority than the Mother and Children be- longing to the collection of Mrs. J. Montgomery Sears, of Boston. A native of New England who is not as well known in the country at large, though we believe his works find a number of very ardent admirers in New York, is A. P. Ryder, whom we must lift up into a position which shall rank him with the very best American painters of our time. We know of no living artist who fills us with such rare and charming poetical thoughts, none who transports us into such a mysterious, delightful, unreal, fairy realm of the fancy. He must paint slowly; his color appears to come from the refiners crucible, as rich, as glowing, and as mellow as the hues and lights of a roses heart. We will only touch upon one picture, which must suffice to give an idea of his quality, his style, his originality. We will select for this purpose from his three best pictures The Temple of the Mind. The other two are Jonah and the Whale and The Twilight which we think have been engraved by Kingsley. On the left rises the strange architectural outline of the temple illuminated by the pale rays of the rising moon. A terrace wall, a lake beyonda beyond such as dreams are made of. At the right gushes forth the water of a fountain which catches the glints of the moonlight. A satyr, dames in the golden shower of light in front of the temple, near by on the terrace the graceful figures of three allegorical females stand bathed in the flood of the magical rays. A balance of masses, a series of lines, a tranquil but ecstatic sensation of color, make an hour of contemplation in front of this canvas like the consummation of a pleasant desire. It is complete, allur- ing, bewitching. Ryders works are priceless;, they owe their enormous value to the rarity of the genius which created them. Finally, of George Inness, to whom we must award the highest honor, for to him we must look for the greatest landscapes ever produced in the United States. Inness, who has but lately left us, still lives; the conflagration of his color seems to be still more luminous than ever; still more does his sunlight seem like the direct reflection of the heavenly hues which tint the earth and sky. Shall we take one picture as a representative example of his genius? No; for were we to describe a winter morning as the best phase of nature, where would the spring-time glory be? In his case it will be necessary to gen- eralize. We may study him in frost and melting snow; in that magnificent area of blooming scenery rich with the harvest; we may be dazzled by the glow of his midday sun, and by the fiery light which he flings over LATER AMERICAN MASTERS. 5 the verdure of the pasture and the meadow; again we may feel the ter- rors of his coming storm, or sink to rest with his setting sun. All the days of the yearthe sunny day, the rainy day, the sultry day, days of storm, days of swollen rivers and moaning winds, mellow autumn days when nature receives her decorations of gold and jewels from summers treasures as an award of affection and a souvenir of the sweets that have gone forever, imperial mornings, angry evenings all the days and all the seasons are food for this art, rich, abundant, over- flowing, and various as nature itself in its nioods. With his color wand the artist wanders up and down the earth, with magic touch breathing upon the canvas his inspired visions. Does the crimson sun rise over the horizon? Watch the wand of Inness. The very splendor of the aurora is caught and fixed upon the canvas. Does the hot sun burn the dry fields? Inness is there to wait for the cooling shower to quench the earths thirst and to save the scene from oblivion, that men may know its marvels. Clouds of the high noon, shadows of the dim and myste- rious woods, hazy and purple dis- tances, patches of grass and leafage, limpid lakes and noble rivers, the sweet home-like valleys and the rock-ribbed hills, the herds in the pastures, the bent and gnarled ancient trees, the stubble of the fields, the close-meshed thicket where the spider builds its strange and symmetrical traceryany- where, everywhere, beauty awaits the coming of the seer, the missionary who reveals the light, the lover who sings the praises of his mistress Na- ture. All men are learners in Innesss school. Of James Abbott McNeill Whistler we shall say nothing here. He is an American by birth, a painter by pro- fession and instinct; no country can claim his art. He, like Inness, would make a text for a whole article. But at present we prefer to remember only those who live, paint and die in this country; those who are Americans in feeling and in aspiration. ft is a law of nature that we should be more closely interested in our neighbors and compatriots than in foreigners. Of course, it is not possible to make a paper of this character exhaustive, if by that is meant a complete review of all that is being done in American art; there must be omissions, and it is well that there should be omissions. Everything in the world is relative, and history, which utilizes catalogues, does not consist of them. Neverthe less, it is fitting that allusion should be made to the scholarly and virile work of the eminent Boston portrait painter, Frederic P. Vinton, whose likeness of Dr. Samuel A. Green painted in 1894 has seldom been surpassed in modern times; to the mural paintings and the exquisite water-colors of Edwin A. Abbey, essentially an illustrator, but not the less interesting for that; and to the excellent marine pictures by the late M. F. H. DeHaas. There are some intelligent people who still labor under the delusion that we have no art in this country. They go to Paris to buy their pictures and statuary; and they have never heard of any American artists who seem to them to be worth serious considera- tion. The Worlds Fair of 1893, if it accomplished nothing else, has done much to sweep away that delusion. We have now attained to our majority in this as in some other matters; and we create our own standards. France, the generous mother country of mod- ern art, foresees better than some of our own people the imminent coming of a doughty competition from this side of the Atlantic. She does not fear her European rivals; her glances of apprehension are at present cast to- wards the West. The time is not very far away when our youth shall have no farther use for the Paris art academies. We recognize our debt to France, but she herself will be glad to see us as- sume a more independent attitude among the nations. Our future strug- gles and triumphs must be fought out and won on American soil. A MENDER OF HEARTS. By Sabra Myrick. HAD strolled carelessly down the tortuous length of the old-fashioned street whose narrow line bisects the hill rising from pros- perous trade at the edge of the bay to prosperous re- tirement from trade at its apex, when, after passing Trinity Street, my progress was blocked by a knot of people dismounting from an electric car just by a hydrant. I was literally driven to the wall by the three passengers, who covered the narrow sidewalk between me and the impa- tient clangor of the motorman, signal- ing a lagging truck driver to move out of his way more rapidly. As I turned I found myself in front of a dusty window. Behind the window, full of china, riveted and cemented in a most miraculous way, I could see the strong gray head of a worker patiently fitting together the broken sticks of a ladys fan. In the window a heavy Staffordshire basin rested on a large plate of Nankin china, glued in so many places that one could not tell which had origi- nally been the largest piece. A huge green Chinese jar, with xvonderful dragons engaged in mortal combat, stood as prop for a big India platter, whose quiet depth made one feel that an armistice had been declared. Fearful imitations of old Willow ware jostled several fans, a miniature and a crucifix, which all lay within a large frame of foliate carving of some dark wood. The day was late in August, one of those humid, stifling days which dis~ pose us to feel the futility of life, even in Seaborough. I was glad to refrain even from the mild exertion of saun- tering. A sudden impulse led me to enter the shop. A few nights before, under pressure of strong excitement, I had snapped a ladys fan. Here was the very place I needed. At any rate, I would make inquiries. The place was queer enough, and a man whose life was spent among Watteau fans and fighting dragons might well be a character worth acquaintance. As I opened the door a little bell jangled harshly. Its peal was not needed in my case to call attention, for the owner of the shop had already noticed my dreamy pause before his work- bench. Sir, and how can I serve you? he inquired, in a manner free from the least servility, and yet in some indefin- able way giving the impression of one used to addressing people in a higher station. Only in a chat, my friend, I replied. It occurred to me outside your win- doxkr that you must have had many an interesting fate played out before you here. These things all look as if they had histories. Well, sir, and so they have; some of them sad ones, too. And some of them you would never think could be mended when they are brought here; but I have learned to mend most things. No wonder you are proud of that. I am sure I wish I could mend a good many things which are broken. Have you, perhaps, a glue to bind up broken fortunes, or any rivet for a broken heart? Ah, no, sir; no, no. The hearts and fortunes are in a better Work- mans hands. And yet the mended china often sends a bowl of soup from Einzls herehe nodded toxvard a dirty German restaurant near byto some poor bodies whose hearts might well be broken; and perhaps it helps put off the breaking,who knows? He gave me a keen look from under his tufted gray eyebrows, from eyes 152 A MENDER OF HEARTS. 53 whose glance was still as bright as the flash of crossing swords. Im no thinking you wish my service in that Not yet, indeed; but I have an- other kind of task for you. I had the ill fortune to break a fan the other eveninga tortoise shell, with silver shields upon the sticks; one of the sticks is broken in three places, and the shield upon it is twisted. Shall I bring it for you to see? A bad job, Im thinking, sir. I never like to try those shell things. Theyre brittle as women to handle, and snap often in the piercing.~~ Hows that? said I, with a laugh. Well, you know, sir, when a woman is in the case, rough treatment will only do damage; they need press- ing gently, and yet with a firm hand no looseness, or they will slip out be- tween the fingers; and no harshness, orsnap! you have broken more than a fan. But bring in your fan, sir, and we will look at it. As I climbed the hill to my room, my mind was filled again with the in- cident of the breaking of the fan. In- deed, my eyes had seen nothing for two days now but the figure of the woman whose it was, leaning back with her warm brown face and dusky brown hair against the dark wine cushions of her divan, with the long brown eyes, usually sparkling with laughter, looking straight into mine with a glance so bitterly cold and so full of contempt that at the time I hardly needed the words which have rung in my ears ever since: You were quite right when you said that with widows one must either be stranger or loveror hand over a broken sword to Fate. I did not know your sentiments before; but I shall hasten to meet them now that they have come to my ears. I have the pleasureshe said it with a cruel emphasisof wishing you good-by, Mr. Graham. What wonder that something snapped in my hand! Looking down, I saw her fanbroken and useless! Oh, my fan! she exclaimed, lean- ing forward with a quick breath. My luck is gone! Give it to me at once. I am very sorry. I will do my best to have it repaired, I said stiffly. What is a fan when it is my heart you have broken? You can waste pity on a miserable toy, and trample a mans life down without a sob. I wish you joy of your laurels, such as they are the withered rose leaves which crown a heartless coquette. Dont stay to insult me farther. I bade you good-by. I was mad with hopelessness and the sting of her words, and I turned and left her, finding myself walking out with her fan still in my hand. And now, as I thought of the words of the mender of bric-a-brac, I wondered if it were possible that, had I treated her more gently, I could have won her forgiveness. The words she had re- peated I had indeed used the other day in chaffing Travers about his devotion to Mrs. Markham. Strange as it seemed, I had never once thought of Honoree as a widow. How could I have made such an unlucky remark! And Travers had been mean enough to tell her,and I could not deny it, even if she would listen to me, which, I thought disconsolately, she never would again. Well, it was only an- other case of a mans life ruined by a womans injustice. She is just as gay, just as happy. I saw her only this afternoon, riding with Isabel Travers and laughing as if there were no one in pain in the whole merry world. She did not see me, though Isabel did, and bowed gayly. How in- significant I was to her! What an unmanly fellow I was to waste days thinking of a woman who was only a flirt, after all! She should have her fan, though, and I went to my little travelling case and drew the pieces forth. A bad job, indeed, as the man had it. I gathered up the fan and rolled the 54 A MENDER OF HEARTS. pieces in tissue paper, and started for the little shop, walking by a round- about way, which brought me in front of Surrey, the jewelers. She should have a new fan, I said, and I entered. The salesman spread before me fans of every description, slender, gauzy, winged things. My eye was caught by one on a silver stand high in a showcase. It is very valuable, sir, the man said. It is supposed to be one of poor Marie Antoinettes; see the painting,and he showed a group of nymphs, with faces of witching coquettishness, dancing around a tree. The fan had long, slender, pierced sticks of silver, with cupids in relief so delicately moulded that their round bodies seemed reclining on a silver field. The fan was of ivory stained in a reddish brown, a background which threw out the warm flesh tints of the nymphs. The shopman, in a half-reluctant tone, named the price a good part of my income. I should have to go without that new saddle- horse, I thought. Then, with a sting of shame at the thought of weighing a saddle-horse against my ladys for- giveness, I said, I will take it, and gave the man a cheque. A beautiful thing, too, not another like it in the world, sir, but heavy for a lady to use.~~ I thought of the little wrist that could quiet the restless ponies or hold the foils so steadily, and smiled to my- self. It is a beautiful toy, I said, and has doubtless a history. That I cannot say, sir. We found it in Paris, with no trace of its former owner. When i[ reached the little shop, I waited for the proprietor to appear; even the asthmatic bell jangled in vain. I was about to leave my errand until a later hour, when he came in, shaking his head and talking to him- self. He was wiping the corners of his eyes hurriedly, and looked rather shamefaced when he found me. Well, sir? he said, gruffly. The fan I[ spoke to you of I have brought it. It is a compound frac- ture. But you are in trouble, my friend. Is it anything one can help? No, no; let me see the fan. As I unwrapped it he seemed to repent of his surliness, and said more gently: My trouble is not for myself, sir, but for those poor people up stairs. Ah, how it cuts like a knife to hear poor Anton moaning ever of home, home, home! And he such a brave lad when he came over here only three years ago with Mina,brave and hearty, with a laugh twould do one good just to hear, and the flashing black eye of a true Magyar; for we are of Hungary, sir,if indeed poor I{ungary have even a name now. My own lands people they are, nearer than flesh and blood. And the music he has in his soul! All lostall lost going out like a sputtering candle, and he so young! You should have heard him play, sirone of the violins in our famous band he was; the music would draw ones breath after it. I have heard him playing nights when one would think the birds in their nests would come to him, and the tears and sobs he made with his violin in the darkness were fit to break the heart in your body. He told me once of a man who lived long ago, who played so that the beasts and stones followed wherever he piped. Why, that is yourself, Anton, I said to him. Poor lad, he was so pleasedlike a child! But can nothing be doneI have moneyno doctor, nourishment, something, for him? No, no, sir. Tis the heimzveh hes got, and he cant last long. There was a doctor here, too, and a nurser but they only said, Make him com- fortable. And Minathats his wife weeps and weeps all day, and the little one looks on it all with such big, round eyes. Anton is too weak to play, but his violin lies on his bed, and he looks at itoh, as a mother looks at her sick baby, with such yearning in his eyes. Well, sir, it makes a baby A MENDER OF HEARTS. 55 of me; and he wiped his eyes again. Let me see the fan, sir. As he unrolled the last wrapping he could not control a start of amaze- ment. Where did you get it, sir? he exclaimed. Did I not know you were one of us when I first saw you? There was the mark of trouble in your eyes, sir. Ah, Hungary has but tears and sorrow for her childrens portion, exiled from her breast. Dont I know the fan, sirat least the silver shields? Dont I know those arms? Ive seen them all my boyhood on the carriages and linen and hangings of the old house,yes, on the old house itself, for I served there until I was thirty. You are mistaken, my friend, I said, almost too astonished to speak. I am not Hungarian. My parents were both American, and the fan is not mine. It is not yours? It will belong to a ladyis it not soa Hungarian? he asked eagerly. I do not think so, I said slowly. It was a gift to the lady who owns it from a friend of her aunts, with whom she stayed in Europe long ago, as a girl. But I know little of the story, and do not even know her hostesss name. But I know, he interrupted quickly. Who should know but I? Her name must have been the Coun- tess Christian, my young mistress, old now, like myself, I suppose; and thats sixty-one come next June. Could you get me a word with the young lady, sir? She would be kind- hearted enough to come and give me news of my mistress, wouldnt she, sir? Well,to tell the truth, I am afraid I cannot ask her, I said, stam- mering. You see, sheshe Ah, I see, he exclaimed. It is a quarrel; the pretty lady is perhaps offended. But it will soon pass, and then you will bring her; promise me, sir. You have the kind heartand trouble yourself, sir, as I saw in your eyes. I must send her the fan first; then we will see, said I, with a little ray of hope springing out from the darkness of my heart, in spite of myself. You can have itlet me see to-day, to-morrowno, no, he shook his head regretfully,Thursday is the earliest. The cement must harden, and its a bad job,----a bad job. I wouldnt like to injure my ladys fan, with the old arms it bears. I told him I would come on Thurs- day, and walked through the town with a fever in my blood not due to the eighty-six degrees registered by the thermometer outside the chemists shop. Going into a newspaper office, I wrote a card and sent for a mes- senger boy. On the card I wrote only: Forgive! I never thought of you in connection with that word. I wrapped the box carefully, and told the boy to take the package to Mrs. Teviot and wait for an answer, if he should wait all night. She will be dressing for dinner now, I thought. Surely she will answer. But of course she will not; she has thrown me over. Dejectedly I sought a cigar and my too quiet room, walking up and down just far enough from the window not to lose sight of the street, lest I fail to observe the approach of her possible answer. A half hour, and another, went slowly by. What is the matter with the boy! Has he lost it? My blood ran cold at the thought. A whistle, a jump, a pull at the belland a mo- ment later he is shown into the room, bearing a note and a packagethe package I had sent. I stared help- lessly at the wrapping, recovering my- self enough to say gruffly to the boy: Thats all; you may go. I could not bear to lift the note; but finally I opened it and read: The Belle Isle. Mr. Graham: I do not receive gifts fr6m strangers. Honoree Teviot. God! I said, and that is what a ~oman is like! And to underline it! 156 A MENDER OF HEARTS. She neednt have done that. I could understand without that. Isup- pose shes going tomarry Dick Stuyvesant.7 With my mind in a whirl and my nature suddenly hardened, I felt all at once singularly light-hearted, as if up- borne by the power of my resentment. I determined to go wherever I might meet her, and show her that one man at least cared nothing for her whims. In consequence of this resolution I met her that night, and bowed cheer- fully and carelessly, having the satis- faction of seeing some thought cloud her eyes for a moment. I told myself that I had found the right cure for a heart-ache, and was the gayest of the gay. Surely it could not be I who had so suffered. Now I was con- scious of the existence of an emotional heart only by a sensation of curious lightness, which was rather pleasur- able than otherwise; and on Thurs- day it was merely by a chance, passing through Trinity Street, that I was re~ minded of my appointment with my friend, the bric-a-brac man. I turned into his shop and asked calmly if the fan were ready. He gave it to me, apologizing for the work, though to my eyes all of repair- ing that was visible was a single rivet, the other fractures being covered by the restored silver shield. I paid for it and was turning to go, when he said: The gentleman will excuse me-but you remember poor Anton, of whom I told you? Of course I remember. He is dead; and Mina, his wife, she is lying illoh, very ill, so that the doctor shakes his head. He is a good man, and his hair is white. He has seen much sickness among the poor,and why should he shake his head if she can be saved? No, it will he only a few hours, andshe told me to take care of the child, for the motherlands sake. I noticed now, and seemed to have t~oticed when I first came in, the pallid face and big head, with heavy, black eyes, of a boy of two years or so, who stood looking from one to the other of us. He loves me much already,do you not, Jean? The boy sprang behind the narrow counter and perched on the old mans knee. Ah, sir, I have something to love now, something almost my own. Have you no wife, then, or fam- ily? I asked. Since my Olga died, twenty-six years ago, theres no one to live with me or care for me, sir. We were to have been so happy; we had been looking forward to the babys birth in a new land of fortune, where life could still be sunny for us. And when it cameah, how thankful we were for the boy!what rejoicing! My Olga was happy then,and when after five days she began suddenly to sink, we could not believe she was to go. But she did; in six hours, sir, she lay white and still, and the next day the poor little lad had gone to comfort her, and Iwell, I am only an old china mender. Ah, if you could have seen them as they lay together for the last sleep, the child nestling his dark head on her bosomfor he was born with such heavy, dark hairhow proud the wife was of itland she lying so still and white I thought she was just tired. She looked as she did the first night after the boy came, when I stole in and saw them lying together, all peaceful and still; and so I could let her go, since she had not to go to the grave alone. Such a young, merry- hearted thing she was when she mar- ried me, too. Well, God is good. After these long years he has given me a son again; and he drew the black-eyed Jean closer to him. But tell me,will the lady come? I havent asked herI couldnt. Then, to my unspeakable wonder and surprise afterwards, though it did not seem strange at the time, this old ex-patriot and bric-a-brac repairer had by a few questions got my poor little trouble from me, and was pour- ing balm into my wound. A MENDER OF HEARTS. 57 Shall I tell you what we would do in my country? he said. There is no other man, is there? NoyesI dont know. Do you know that it is more than likely your friend has cried herself to sleep these nights, that she might laugh with a free heart and a gay look when one is looking? Take your fan, and tell her you will be one or the other, stranger or lover. Put your arms around her and kiss her,no woman but will forgive that offense. Trust me, she wants you to win her. Would she have been angry if a stranger had said thatand not about her at all? She was angry with her- self, because she thought she had shown you her own mind. Trust me, sir; I have seen the women. Peasant or noble, when they are angry with themselves some man must suffer. I shook his hand and turned away. That I should have confided in this poor peasant, with his coarse idea of wooing a woman of the world like Honoree as if she were an Indian maiden! That night I went, after dining at the club, to the Blakeleys dance, en route to another. I had made up my mind that the crush was insufferable and the supper poor and the heat un- bearable, and that I would get my coat and go, when I saw HonoreeMrs. Teviot sitting out a dance with Dick Stuyvesant. That settled it, and after unavoidable detentions by acquaint- ances on my way to the door I sprang up the stairs to the coat room. The door was just opposite the ladies dressing room, and as I turned again down the stairs I had just time to step back to avoid a woman who was com- ing up. We were face to face; and it was myit was Mrs. Teviot. For a moment neither spoke. It was a different matter there in the half-darkness, alone together, to be cold and gay. Suddenlywhether the impulse came from my heart or my remembrance of Hungarian meth- ods, I could contain myself no longer, I put out my arms and drew her to me. Her head lay close to my heart, and I could see the dark hair and the flushing face so near me. Then she started away. How dare you, Mr. Graham? Hal, suggested I, persuasively. And I dare because I have deter- mined that we will change all those terms. I will not be a stranger, but your lover, dearestcan it not be so? Her head lay again upon my heart. And Honoree, darling, look upyou will not be aa Widow? laughed she saucily. Not a widow, but my wife. A few moments afterwards she looked up suddenly and exclaimed: Hal, how do you suppose a woman could ever return such a fan as that? If you werent a regular Borgia for cruelty, you couldnt have done it. Oh, it wasnt the cruelty I was speaking ofbut the fan! I took Honoree to the old shop, after I had told her of my Hungarian friends advice; but though we went twice we could not find him,and after we returned to New York, in the hurry of a certain dear coming event the whole incident slipped from my mind. The next summer my wife and I came again to Seaborough, and it was at her suggestion that I went to find the old exile. I found the shop empty, and dustier than ever, and I made inquiries in the neighboring restaurant. Oh, the old gypsy, sir, as we used to call him? exclaimed the German woman there. Ah, he was a kind heart. He and the child are both dead. The lad took the fever in the throat, and the old man took no rest or food, but always cradling the child in his arms until it died. He never hoped it would live: Sorrow and tears, he would say over and over again, sorrow and tears are the portion of thy children. And after the boy died, we brought him up stairs here to nurse, though God knows my own family were too many for the house; and here he died last May, sir. 158 THE GUESTS. But the neighbors mourned him; never one of them was in need that he didnt have the kind word for them, and the hand in his pocket even when there was little enough to take from it, God knows. Even the children went to him with their little troublesmy own, too, God bless them. Well, well, he did his part. We miss him, we miss him. And she wiped the tears on a corner of her checked apron. I thanked the good woman, and passed again by the little shop, empty now, yet filled for me by the memory of the sad old man, whose life had been so full of sorrows and so full of servicethe mender of my ill fortune and of my broken heart. THE GUESTS. By Charles Hansoll Towne. GRIEF came to me when I was young in years, Before I dreamed of human pain and tears. My heart was full of joy; I had no room For sorrow and its shadowy form of gloom. 0 Grief! I cried, depart! In deep aifright I tremble at the darkness of thy night! Go hence, go hence! nor ever bide with me This side of Gods unknown, mysterious sea ! I saw Grief sadly smile; and then she fled, And left me with my pleasures, comforted. How sweet the days that followed! Love alone Could make me happier when years had flown. Oft in the night I wakened from my rest, And thought I heard a voicea stranger-guest. no ! I said; tis Grief that calls again; She sigheth like the dreary autumn rain. And so I slept, nor dreamed that in the night An angel stood, sad-faced, and clothed in white. So many times she knocked and called my name, At last I oped my door, and in she came. Oh, thou art Grief ! I cried. Depart! depart! Nor enter in the cloister of my heart! Then spake the figure thus: Nay, from above I come to visit thee, for I am Love. But since thou hadst no room to let Grief stay Thou hast no room for me. From day to day I could but crown with thorns thy tender head, For Grief and I are one. She smiledand fled. POPULATION TENDENCIES IN RHODE ISLAND. By Henry Robinson Pczlnzer. ANY interesting facts about the smallest of our American com- monwealths may be gathered from the decennial Rhode Is- land census, which was begun last June but has not yet been completely tabulated. When all the varied information collected by the Census Bureau has been classi- fied and published, a mass of ma- terial will be available in which the statistician, and no less the student of contemporary affairs, will find ample reward for careful investigation. There is a fruitful field, indeed, await- ing anyone who will study the several state enumerations of 1895 in detail and deduce for the general edification the various morals they suggest. For as there are sermons in stones, so there are morals in state censuses, and many an interesting tendency in population may be traced in the reports of the enumerators who were engaged in counting the people of Massachusetts, Rhode Island, New Jersey, Minnesota, Iowa, Kansas and Oregon last year. It is not too much to say that a pains- taking inquiry into these returns would provide a sufficient basis for a valu- able survey of contemporary social conditions. In the case of Rhode Island, a very important movement of population may be seen, away from the hill towns, on the one hand, and away from the citiesor at least from the chief city of the stateon the other. Rhode Island, as is perhaps generally known, has more people to the square mile than any other state of the Union. This was the fact as long ago as 1790, when the first federal census was taken, and it has been true at every succeeding enumeration. A hundred and six years ago, there were sixty- four inhabitants on each square mile of Rhode Island soil, while forty-seven persons clustered on each similar tract of Massachusetts territory. Now there are no less than 354 people on the average square mile of land in Rhode Island, to 318 in Massachu- setts. The Bay State, curiously enough, is just as densely populated now as Rhode Island was a half- decade ago. No other common- wealth approaches these two at the present time in the matter of density, New Jersey occupying third rank, but after a great interval, and Connecti- cut, the fourth state, being less than one-half as thickly settled as her neighbor on the east. If the Nutmeg state contained as many people in pro- portion as Rhode Island, there would be nearly 1,750,000 inhabitants within her borders, instead of only 8oo,ooo; while a similar density in Maine would give that state between ten and eleven millions. If the whole United States were as closely peopled, from Eastport to the Aleutian Islands, far more than a billion human beings might right- fully call themselves Americans. And yet the railway traveller, pass- ing through Rhode Island, is not con- scious of any undue crowding of the population. On the New Haven road, a few miles southwest of Provi- dence, his eye begins to rest upon un- broken forests and desolate pasture land, and during most of his journey across the state he passes through a thinly-settled region. Providence stretches westward, suburbs and all, as far as East Greenwich, fourteen miles from the Union Station, but farther west and south the country is in large measure bleak and uninviting. The same impression is obtained from a trip through the northern part of the 59 i6o POPULATION TENDENCIES IN RHODE ISLAND. state on the New England railroad, and if the train is abandoned for a carriage or bicycle tour through the wilds of Exeter and West Greenwich it becomes well-nigh impossible to realize that this is the most thickly settled of all the states of the Union. The fact is that the comparatively inaccessible hill towns of the state never were compactly peopled and in all probability never will be. They are decreasing in population every year, and becoming more desolate in appearance. In common with the rest of New England, Rhode Island has suffered from a serious and long- extended agricultural depression, and if it were not for the continued growth of its manufacturing centres would be forced to drop behind in the contest for numerical supremacy. How literally true this is may be seen by a glance at the returns of the enumera- tors for 1895, as compared with those of the 1885 and 1890 censuses: Charlestown, Coventry, East Greenwich, Exeter, Foster, Gloucester, Hopkinton, Little Compton, New Shoreham, North Smithfield, Portsmouth, Richmond, Scituate, Smithfield, Warren, West Greenwich, 1895. 984 5,065 3,096 917 1,190 1,633 2,713 1,112 1,300 2,826 1,833 1,656 3,529 2,337 3,826 721 1890. 915 5,o68 3,127 964 1,252 2,095 2,864 1,128 1,320 3,173 1,949 1,669 3,174 2,500 4,489 798 1885. 1,042 4,806 2,659 i,o86 1,397 1,922 2,796 1,055 1,267 3,077 2,008 1,744 3,606 2,338 4,209 863 Here are sixteen towns, or nearly one half the total number in the state, which show a decrease in 1895 from either 1885 or 1890, or from both. Three of them have passed the one- thousand mark jp their decline, and several others are getting closer to it year by year. The reason is not diffi- cult to discover. There is nothing to attract new settlers into these hillside communities, and little to hold the people who are already there. Farm- ing, at least when it is conducted along the old, familiar lines of New England tradition, does not pay on such unfruitful acres, and few if any facilities for other kinds of industry exist. Charlestown, which decreased from i885 to 1890, lies on the Atlantic shore, and must eventually increase with the influx of a summer popula- tion. From 1890 to 1895 it regained something of what it lost in the previ- ous half-decade,and the censusof i9oo may be expected to see it restored to its 1885 figures. East Greenwich is at a convenient distance from Provi- dence, pleasantly situated on Coweset Bay, and will be included in the active movement of population from the city to the suburbs in the early future. New Shoreham (Block Island) is increasing in popularity as a summer resort every year, and this fact would seem to ensure a larger permanent population; indeed, the island has more than held its own dur- ing the last ten years, in spite of the isolation of life there in the winter months. Portsmouth, which is on Rhode Island proper, near Newport, may derive a new impulse from the growth of the summer capital~ in time; and one or two of the other towns in the list just given are not in a hopeless condition. But what shall be said of the remote hill communities, which are difficult of access and un- attractive in appearance? Their farm- ers find it hard to make both ends meet, there is nothing to tempt the manufacturer, and the summer visitor would far rather spend his vacation months at the shore. A few city dwellers may invade these quiet hill towns, finding in them just the bracing atmosphere and degree of rest they need; but for a long time to come the main stream of population will flow in another direction, and the interior villages of Rhode Island will continue to decline. Meanwhile, there has been an inter- esting growth in the communities around the head of Narragansett Bay. Providence and the surround- ing towns and cities have increased in population until there are now little POPULATION TENDENCIES IN RHODE ISLAND. i6i short of 300,000 people within a radius of ten miles from the new State Capitol on Smiths Hill. The follow- ing table shows how this group of communities has grown since the state census was taken eleven years ago: Providence, Pawtucket, Warwick, Central Falls, Johnston, Cranston, East Providence, 1895. 145,472 32,577 21,168 15,828 11,203 10,575 10, 170 1890. i88~. 132,146 118,070 27,633 22,906 17,761 13,286 (Part of the town of Lincoln.) 9,778 7,274 8,099 6,oo~ 8)422 6,8i6 247,003 Here in seven cities and towns occupying contiguous territory there is a population of a quarter-million, almost all of which, to every intent and purpose, belongs to Providence. All of the communities in this list depend upon the central member of the group for many of their daily necessities, in- cluding their morning paper, precisely as Brooklyn, although it is a city of a million inhabitants, depends upon New York for its morning information as to the events of the last few hours. And just as Brooklyn is becoming a part of the Greater New York year by year, despite the protests of the oppo- nents of consolidation, so these towns and cities around Providence are all the time multiplying the bonds which bind them to the central municipality. In the case of Brooklyn, the construc- tion of another bridge, capable of sup- porting two tracks for elevated trains and four for trolley cars, is perhaps the most obvious evidence of this increase in the community of interests between the adjacent communities; in northern Rhode Island the remarkable growth of the trolley system from Market Square in Providence as a centre, and of the suburban service on the steam railways, is sufficient testimony to the same tendency. The street railway corporation operating the tracks in and about Providence now controls about ninety miles of line. The overhead wires extend like an immense spider-web in every direction, and bring all the out- lying communities into intimate relationship with the bigger town. And where the trolley has gone, popu- lation has followed, until the exodus became a source of surprise and worry to the Census Bureau officials of 1895, who were desirous of showing that the population of Providence had in- creased very largely since 1890, but were compelled at last to announce that the effiux from the city to the suburbs had kept the growth of the municipality down to unexpectedly low limits. The Providence authori- ties had been estimating the total num- ber of inhabitants of the city at 158,000 in their official reports; and, do the best they could, the Census Bureau could not find more than 145,472 people within the municipal bound- aries. The growth since 1890, even at these figures, has been creditable, but not nearly as great as the prosper- ity of the recent past had seemed to indicate. In spite of the business de- pression of 1893, Providence has been increasing rapidly in a material way, and the erection of many new com- mercial structures in the heart of the city had given the impression that the population must be expanding at an unusually satisfactory rate. The solution of the problem was found in the census statistics of the surrounding communities. They had been growing since 1890 at the ex- pense of the city, the trolley, more than any other one factor, being responsible for this. Here, then, was an interest- ing population movement, which doubtless is in progress in other locali- tiesa drift away from the city, not to the farming communities, but to the suburban towns. The lesser Provi- dence had suffered, but the Greater Providence had gained, and the census figures for the group of towns near the head of Narragansett Bay showed that the city of Roger Williams had become practically a town of 250,000 inhabi- tants, lacking only a few formalities in order to be welded into a single municipality. 162 POPULATION TENDENCIES IN RHODE ISLAND. How nearly ready for such consoli- dation these adjacent towns and cities are may be judged from the statement that a stranger might walk from some point far beyond the Johnston line, for example, on the west, through Olney- ville, Providence, Pawtucket and Cen- tral Falls, to Valley Falls in the town of Cumberland on the east, without being conscious of any lack of unity on the part of these several separate cities and towns. He would observe no division lines, no considerable un- occupied spaces of land. He could not discover where one unit of govern- ment began and the other left off. His impression would be that he had traversed a single city, of diverse neighborhoods, and yet essentially one. So considerable has been the growth of population outside Provi- dence, but in its immediate neighbor- hood, during the last few years, that the unusual spectacle is afforded of three municipal governments existing close together, on a single stretch of territory. Providence adjoins Paw- tucket, and Pawtucket touches Central Falls; while the voters of Cranston, on the west of Providence, came within a small margin of establishing them- selves as a city a few months ago, having received legislative permission to do so, and defeating the proposition by a very small vote. There is still much agitation in Cranston regarding the matter, and it is practically certain that the present form of town govern- ment will be abandoned, at least in part, in the early future. A portion of the town may be set off to Providence or erected into a separate district like that of Narragansett within the town of South Kingstown; or the enthusi- asts for a city charter may revive their scheme, and add a fourth municipality to the present contiguous trio. That would be a novelty in local govern- ment, indeed. There are many other elements in the growth of the population of Rhode Island that might profitably be con- sidered, as the increase of the foreign- born element, for example; but it is not possible here to consider the sub- ject at greater length. It should be added, however, that the growth of the state as a whole has been very satis- factory in the last half-decade, the total number of inhabitants in 1895 being 384,758, against 345,506 in 1890, and 304,284 in 1885. The ratio of recent increase is about the same as that of Massachusetts, where a detailed study of the census of 1895 would doubtless reveal very similar tendencies to those noted in Rhode Island. In both states a noticeable feature of the growth of population is the steady and substan- tial increase of the large towns. In Rhode Island, in addition to the other cities already mentioned, Woonsocket, one of the busiest of New England manufacturing communities, has be- come a city of 24,468 people; while Newport, which showed a slight de- crease from i885 to 1890, has regained much more than it lost, and had at the time of the latest census 21,537 in- habitants. THE WESTERN RESERVE UNIVERSITY. By Emerson 0. Stevens. ~RV~ - HE Connec- - ticut Yan- kee, whether at the Court of King Arthur or grubbing 4 ~ stumps in the clearings of a ~ western wilderness, is an estimable type of man. With his shrewdness, thrift and fore- sight, are conjoined a sturdy morality, a sterling integrity and a restless activity which no obstacle can subdue. Nor does his astuteness in worldly affairs efface his appreciation of the higher elements of life. Where the New England man is found are to be found good schools and colleges. The early settlers of the Connecticut Western Reserve of Ohio formed an almost entirely homogeneous popula- tion of Connecticut Yankees. These men, endowed with the pioneer quali- ties of energy, self-reliance and perse- verance, yet retained the sober and prudent character of Connecticut peo- ple. With them they brought Con- necticut ideas of religion and educa- tion; and almost before the smoke from the first clearings had vanished, school-houses and meeting-houses be- gan to nestle under the protecting shadows of the forest giants. As the settlements increased in number and size, the need of higher education was early felt. In the first year of the century, a petition drawn up by a Connecticut minister, the only minister on the Reserve except one, was presented to the Territorial Legis- lature, praying for a charter for the establishment of a college on the Reserve. This petition, though sub- scribed by a large number of the most respectable inhabitants and general landholders on the Reserve, among 163 whose names appeared that of Moses Cleaveland, the founder of the future metropolis of the Western Reserve, was for some reason refused. The projectors were not discouraged, how- ever, and within six weeks from the time the first legislature had convened after the state had been admitted into the Union, an act was passed incorpo- rating the Erie Literary Seminary within the county of Trumbull, which then embraced the entire Western Reserve. The first name in the list of incorporators was that of Joseph Hud- son, the founder of the future seat of Western Reserve College, and the last that of Rev. Joseph Badger, who had drawn up the first petition to the Terri- torial Legislature for the establishment of a college within the limits of the Reserve. Under this charter an Academy was established, in 18o5, at Burton, a small village within the present limits of Portage county. It soon became obvious that a small pioneer popula- tion could not support a purely academical institution. Accordingly, soon after the War of 1812, the Pres- bytery of Grand River, embracing nearly all the Presbyterian and Con- gregational ministers of the Reserve, considering the destitute circum- stances of many churches and congre- gations among themselves, formed itself into a Society for the education of indigent, pious young men within the limits of the Presbytery. With the co6peration of the Portage Presby- tery, they resolved to establish a Theo- logical Institution on the foundation of the Erie Literary Society. The man- agers soon became convinced, how- ever, that an institution equal to their desires and expectations and to the necessities of the public could not be built up at Burton, and they requested 164 THE WESTERN RESERVE UNIVERSITY. the trustees of the Erie Literary Society to remove their establish- ment to a more eligible situation. After much discussion the request of the managers was nfused. This refusal of the trustees to remove their institution led to the establishm~nt of Western Reserve College. No sooner had it been decided to establish an entirely new institution than an active competition began among several towns to secure the new college. One of the chief competitors was Cleveland, a growing village on Lake Erie. After full deliberation it was decided, in January, 1825, to establish the college at Hudson. The site chosen for the location of the college was a particularly fortunate one. Hudson, situated on the high ground of Summit county, and near the centre of the Reserve, in the midst of a well cultivated country, was and is in many respects more New England than many towns of Connecticut or Massachusetts. Its inhabitants were mostly Connecticut people, and its white houses and broad shady trees still remind one of the traditional quiet and neat New England village. One cause for felicitation advanced by the managers was the fact that the college was only twenty-five miles from Cleve- land, already the mart of business for this section of the country, which would afford a delightful retreat for instructors when wishing to relax their minds from study and enjoy the pleasures of social intercourse , a compliment to the social amenities of the Forest City not quite in accordance with Dickenss comment on the conduct of the worthy mayor and prominent citizens of that flourishing town when his boat tied up at its port some fifteen years later. The choice of site, however, much care and deliberation as it had cost, was the least part of the problem of estab- lishing the new college. The Ohio legislature, unfortunately or fortu- natelv, as the case may be, was not composed entirely of Western Reserve men, and the effort to secure a charter for the new institution encountered severe opposition among the Solons at Columbus. The opposition was prin- cipally on account of the religious character of the institution which the projectors had in view. The list of corporators contained the names of five laymen and seven clergymen, and there were a number of freethinkers in the legislature who were unwilling that education should be so much under the influence of the clergy. The draft of the charter was so modified by these men as to exclude all religious instruc- tion from the college. A copy of the charter was sent to Mr. Hudson and was by him shown to such of the other corporators as were within reach. -, I -? ~t I ~ I 74 47 WESTERN RESERVE COLLEGE, HUDSON, 1850. THE WESTERN RESERVE UNIVERSITY. 165 With true Yankee energy, Rev. Caleb Pitkin, one of the board, immediately started on a journey of sixty miles on horseback, in the dead of winter, for the residence of Judge Brown, also a member of the board. With Judge Brown he pushed on to Columbus, over one hundred and twenty-five miles distant, resolved to prevent the passage of this charter and to secure an acceptable one. After they had labored together for some time unsuc- cessfully, Judge Brown, wise in his generation and knowledge of legisla- tures, remarked to Mr. Pitkin: You had better go home and leave me to manage this matter. This is a thing which sinners can manage best. Mr. Pitkin went home, and Judge Brown, whether by sinful methods or other- wise, at length secured an accept- able charter. This charter bears the date of February 7, 1826. Western Reserve College was thus the first college to be established in the north- ern half of the state, and the fifth in Ohio. Western colleges in those days were not made to order with the millions of any one man. Only by the self-sacri- fice, devotion and dauntless energy of all engaged in the work could a college be established in this country, where but yesterday the fierce sons of nature prowled in all the wanton sports ot savage wildness. The trustees had many of them to ride fifty or sixty miles through the frightful roads of a newly settled country to attend the meetings of the board, and often would ADELBERT HALL. be gone from their homes a week at a time. What little wealth there was on the Reserve was mostly in the form of land. Money was not plenty. Each friend contributed his or her mite; but the contributions, though they came in liberally, were not always of a kind particularly valuable for the purpose of conducting a classical college. Dona- tions were made in land, merchandise and farm produce, and the list of con- tributions contains a curious assort- ment of heterogeneous articles, includ- ing sleighs and garden rakes. The first regular tutor employed in the college received a part of his salary in board and washing, and the pro- fessors for years received a part of their yearly stipend in the form of store pay. After many hindrances and dis- couragements, the corner stone of the first building was laid, with much ceremony and in the pres- ence of a large crowd, on the 26th of April, 1826. A hymn com- posed for the occasion by Asaph Whittlesey, Esq., was sufficiently fervid in sentiment, if not exactly Tennysonian in rhythmic and PKEIIUENr GEORGE E. PIERCE,D.D. i66 THE WESTERN RESERVE UNIVERSITY. melodic qualities. Its first verse runs thus: From heaven, Thy high and holy throne, Look down, 0 Lord, and view this stone, This corner-stone on which we raise A building sacred to Thy praise. There were thieves in those days, even within the moral precincts of the Western Reserve, and Mr. Whittle- seys fervid invocation did not protect this corner-stone from wicked hands. On the succeeding night the stone was removed from its place and robbed of its contents, the several pieces of American coin which were deposited within it probably being the principal attraction for the miscreants. That money was not plenty on the Reserve in those days is sufficiently evident from the estimates of expenses in the early catalogues, estimates which would make a modern Harvard man stare. Tuition was twenty dollars a year; room rent was from four to six dollars a year; table board was from seventy-five cents to a dollar a week,seventy-five cents being the price in the college dining hall, while those who desired something more select and exclusive paid one dollar a week in private boarding houses. A part or the whole of this price might be paid in provisions. In many cases students boarded themselves in their own rooms. They found their own provisions, and obtained the necessary cooking in neighboring families, at considerably less than one-half the ex- pense of board in private families, which would make the students board bill amount to perhaps six cents a day. The instructors, we are told, regard this plan of diet, under proper restric- tions, with favor, and can testify of those who have adopted it that, not- withstanding the time and care thus expended, they appear not to have suffered from it, either physically, in- tellectually or morally. Washing cost the student from four to six dollars a year. Economical students obtained their fuel for one dollar a year; the more reckless and extrava- gant sometimes went as high as two ADELBERT COLLEGE, MAIN BUILDING AND PHYSICAL LABORATORY. THE WESTERN RESERVE UNIVERSITY 167 dollars and a half a year. Text-books might be rented from the college library at a total cost of from one dollar to one dollar and a half a year. It was no part of the design of the college authorities to expose the stu- dent to the danger of moral degenera- tion through too much liberty of action. Students were obliged to at- tend daily prayers morning and even- ing and to be present with the in- structors at the college church twice on Sunday. We are not told that they were obliged to walk home with the instructors after church on Sunday eveningsa hardship which it is diffi- cult to believe any faculty would im- pose or any body of students endure, without a riot. Classical studies and all such reading and conversation as are inconsistent with the religious observance of the Sabbath, together with unnecessary business, diversion, visiting the postoffice, walking abroad, calling at other students rooms, were to be carefully avoided. Cards, dice, firearms or gunpowder were for- bidden in the rooms of the students. No student was allowed to hire a horse or carriage or leave town without per- mission, or to attend assemblies for dancing or similar amusement, or to call for entertainment at public houses for purposes of conviviality. Any student who should set fire to chips or straw or other combustible substances on the college grounds was subject to fine, dismission or ex- pulsion. If a student were tardy or late, he could not be excused on ac- count of not hearing bell, kept up late the preceding evening, difficulty of exercises, walking or riding abroad, or other frivolous pretexts of the kind. The early officers of the college were firm believers in the value of exercise. Mere diversion and gym- nastic exercise, however, were thought to be demoralizing, as relaxing the sense of obligation to be always doing good. We accordingly find in one of the first catalogues the statement that systematic bodily exer- cise is deemed indispensable to the health and best mental improvement of the students. Provision has there- fore been made for their accommoda- tion in mechanical and agricultural labor. Students were required, dur- ing term time, to labor for exercise and the preservation of health, either in agriculture or some of the mechanical arts, at least two hours every day, ex- cept the Sabbath. For the accom- modation of such as used mechanical tools, workshops were erected, fur- nished with steam power and appro- priate machinery, with many of the tools required in cabinet and chair making, wagon making and cooper- PRESIDENT HENRY L. HJTCHCOCK,D.D. DRAWING ROOM, GUILFORD HOUSE. i68 THE kVES TERN RESERVE UNIVERSITY. ing. Students labored in these shops from two to three hours a day, under the care of a superintendent provided by the board, and received compensa- tion in proportion to their earnings. The compensation for exercise in the shops, as well as for their jobs of gardening and agriculture, was from three to twelve cents an hour, accord- ing to their individual skill, industry and experience. The officers of the college looked upon the scheme with much complacency. They stated that the students in some cases have in this way done much towards defraying their expenses, oth- ers have received little besides health of body and vigor and elastic ty of i:iid. This de- vice was regarded as a sort of com- pensation-balauc e in the mechanism of student life. The pallid stu- dent with his writ- ten roll was to take on the ruddy hue of health, and the brawny ath- lete, by this en- forced labor in the shops of from two to three hours a day, was to work off his su- perfluous animal spirits so that the remainder of his time might be de- voted to study and meditation. The dream of the poet was to be realized: Health of body, peace of mind, Quiet by day, Sound sleep by night; study and ease, Together mixt; sweet recreation~ And innocence, which most doth please With meditation. But the public was disinclined to buy rude, ill-jointed and unworkman- like wares, and difficulty was found in disposing of the products of these amateur artisans. It was found, too, that this enforced labor was not bene- ficial to health. The system was at length reluctantly abandoned by the uthorities. The scholarship of the college wa:, even at this early time, of a high order. The idea of a college which the trustees entertained was of such an institution as they had been familiar with. All the clerical members of the board were college graduatesfour from Yale, two from Williams, and one from Dartmouth; of the five lay members, one was a graduate of Yale, another had been a student at Har- vard, the other three were Con- necticut men fa- miliar with the character of Yale College. The first instructors were all eastern college graduates and men of high schol- arship. In 1830 the requirements for admission were identical with those of Yale, with the exception of Sallust in Latin and the Gospels in Greek. The question of the study of the classical authors was in the first years of the institution a cause of much discussion and controversy. The study of heathen authors moved the righteous indignation of certain worthy people. Two years after the college had opened, a writer in a con- temporary newspaper rejoices in the college, but hesitates not to say, that our colleges, earnestly as they are looked to at this day for streams to niake glad the city of God, do excite the astonishment of angels, and aill excite the astonishment of a coming age. He says that though the te~ chers may be Christian, the whole PRE5IDENi A KULL LU ILL ii. D. TI-JE WESTERN RESERVE UNIVER ITY. 169 course of study, with very slight ex- ceptious, is as wholly heatheuish as it would have beeu iu the most heathen- ish uatiou ou earth two thousand years ago; aud he demauds that these heatheuish authors be laid aside as corruptiug the. miud, aud that Christiau authors be substituted for them. The members of the freshmau class petitioned the trustees that the Bible aud other Christiau authors might be studied as classics, iustead of the heatheu authors. The studeuts of the early classes, iudeed, felt it iucumbeut upou them to reform thiugs. They had a temper- auce society, aud made iuvestigatious and published reports. The Society of Inquiry eutered upou what, was called the Moral Reform movemeut. They formed a Magdalen Society iu defence of the seveuth commaud- meut, aud weut about lecturing upou the subject. The anti-slavery questiou, too, was a questiou which for years caused much agitatiou withiu aud concerniug the college. It was even carried so far at oue time as almost to disrupt the institutiou. Early iu the history of the college the first numbers of Garri- sous Liberator begau to reach the Reserve aud made mauy couverts amoug the studeuts aud professors. Anti-slavery articles by members of the faculty caused much uueasiuess amoug certaiu less radical people. At the iuvitatiou of two of the faculty, a member of the sophomore class pre- pared a Colloquy to be spokeu at the uext Commeucemeut, aud was giveu for a subject, The Recaptured Slave. We are told that the colloquy met with much success. Hudson was bug a statiou on the Underground Rail- road; the college aud the towu were thought to be given over wholly to the peruicious delusion of anti-slavery; mauy were the sueers aud jibes uttered against Hudsou aud the Western Re- serve College. The famous Hudson guide-board sufficiently indicated the general feeling, half satirical, half bitter, against the town. This guide- board stood near the centre of Aurora, at a diagonal road leading to Hudson. It was a substantial board about three feet square, surrounded with a stout moulding, and upon it was painted the bust of a stalwart young negro, his countenance relaxed into a broad smile which disclosed two rows of ivories between two exaggerated red lips, and pointing, with the index finger of his right hand, in the proper direction, with the legend, Dis de road to Hudson. The board re- MAIN HALL, GUILFORD HOUSE. ADELBERT COLL ~GR, FROM WADE PARK, 170 THE WESTERN RESERVE UNIVERSITY. mained in position for a dozen or fifteen years, and came to have a repu- tation thronghont the state. Students and different members of the faculty went abont giving lectures and ad- dresses in the neighboring towns. For a time discnssion of slavery at home and delivering lectures abroad seem to have been the chief oc- cnpation of some of the stndents, so that the regular work of the college was seriously interfered with. The first presi- dent of the col- lege, Rev. Charles Backns Storrs, was a man of ardent anti-slav- ery sentiments. He had been elected, in 1828, to the chair of Sacred Theology; and after many fruitless efforts had been made to secnre a presi- dent, he had been persnaded to ac- cept that office. President Storrs, although not a college graduate, was in all respects, except in the matter of physical strength, admirably qualified for his office. He was born at Longmeadow, Mass., in 1794, and was descended from a long line of able and scholarly ministers. He had nearly completed his junior year at Princeton with the highest rank as a scholar and distinguished alike for talents and diligence, when he was compelled by ill health to abandon his studies. After a period of rest,he had conipleted the course of study at Andover Theological Seminary, and had then gone to South Carolina and Georgia as a missionary. Here again his labors were interrupted by ill health, and he came north to Ohio. At the time of his call to the college, he was laboring with much success as a minister at Ravenna, one of the more important towns of the Reserve. President Storrs early became an advocate of Garrisons views, and lost no opportunity to proclaim and defend them. One of the stu- dents, who had recently had an interview with Garrison and had brought a package of documents and copies of the Liberator to distribute in the college, called upon President Storrs, and, seeing the Liberator on his table, asked the slow-spoken, sedate thinker what he thought of Gar- risons writings on slavery. The answer was, I do not see hoxv they can be refuted. President Storrs died in the cause of the slave. On the eighth of May, 1833, he delivered an address before the Tallmadge Anti-Slavery So- ciety, speaking for nearly three hours with great power. He had always been in feeble health, and the PREsIDENr HIRAM c. HAYDN, D. D .,LL.D. CHAPEL, CLARK HALL. THE WESTERN RESERVE UNIVERSITY. 7 excitement and exertion of this effort were too much for his weak lungs, and he was completely prostrated. Within a few weeks he was forced to ask for leave of absence, to recruit his health. He went to lElraintree, Mass., where he declined rapidly and died within a few months. His character is thus set forth by one of the later presidents of the college: He was retiring, unselfish, unambitious, with deep and religious devotion, inflexible in his adherence to principle, solid, acute and comprehensive in thought, greatly loved and revered by all the students, of wonderful power and eloquence as a preacher. As a theologian he was of the school of President Dwight. His ill health had doubtless tended to make him more a man of reflection and to heighten those qualities which excited the love and reverence of all who knew him. He was a quiet, unassuming man of power, suited to make a deep and lasting impression upon all who came under his instruction. The death of President Storrs was keenly felt by all who were engaged in the anti-slavery conflict. A corres- pondent of the Liberator spoke of him as that mighty man of God, who applied his discriminating and gigantic mind to the subject of slavery and its remedy. Whittier expressed the common sorrow of the aboli- tionists in one of his most stirring anti- slavery poems, written in memory of President Storrs: Thou hast fallen in thine armor, Thou martyr of the Lord! With thy last breath crying Onward! And thy hand upon thy sword. The haughty heart derideth, And the sinful lip reviles, But the blessing of the perishing Around thy pillow smiles! The closing stanza of the poem was in some respects prophetic: In the evil days before us, And the trials yet to come, In the shadow of the prison, Or the cruel martyrdom, We will think of thee, 0 brother! And thy sainted name shall be In the blessing of the captive And the anthem of the free. President Storrs was not the only one connected with the college who offered his life for the life of the slave. The record of Western Reserve Col- lege in the War of the Rebellion is most creditable. In the summer term of i86i all the students entered into military drill under Colonel Hayward, of Cleveland, and at the beginning of the next term the classes were very COLLEGE FOE wOMEN. STUDENTS ROOM, (;UILFORD HOUSE. 172 THE WESTERN RESERVE UNIVERSITY. much diminished by the absence of those who had enlisted in the army. The students maintained a well drilled military company, and in response to President Lincolns call for volunteers after the battle of Shenandoah, they offered their services to the governor of the state. They were accepted, and after being in charge of the military prison at Columbus for three months, were sent to Vicksburg in charge of a large body of prisoners. Commence- ment was held that year on the fifteenth of October, and the first term of the new aca- demic year began on the following day. The stu- dents and gradu- ates of the college were to be fonnd in all ranks from private up to major general. Of her sons Western Reserve has no reason to be ashamed. For a small col- lege, she has turned ont many distingni shed men. Her grad- uates include dis- tinguished minis- ters, doctors, sci- entists, jurists, statesmen, educa~ tors. With no intention of entering upon statistics, it may be said that the largest proportion of the men who have re- ceived their training at Western Re- serve College have entered the Chris- tian ministry, thus vindicating the motto of the college, Christo et Ecclesfre. She has sent missionaries to the heathen in almost every country where heathen were to be found. Among her graduates are congress- men, governors, senators. Many stu- dents who received the larger part of their training in this college and after- wards attained distinction in life, have spent the last year of their course in eastern colleges, thus depriving West- ern Reserve of honor and credit which is in large measure her due. Students who have left Western Reserve to complete their course in other colleges have invariably taken high rank in those institutions. Old graduates of the college are fond of telling the true story of a student who, being third in a class of ten in his junior year, went to Yale and graduated first in a class of over fifty, afterwards to become one of the supreme judges of the United States. Among men who have re- ceived their train- ing at Western Reserve but who did not graduate are included sen- ators, governors and men distin- guished in many p r o f e ss i o n s During the last two years no stu- dent has left the college to enter any other institu- tion. President Storrs was suc- ceeded by Presi- dent Pierce, a Connecticut man and a graduate of Yale College, arid thoroughly im- bued with the Connecticut idea of a college. Indeed in these years the college could truly have been said to be a Connecticut college. Most of the faculty were Yale gradu- ates, and for a number of years the in- stitution was modelled upon Yale Col- lege in almost the minutest particular. During the first quarter of a century, too, a surprisingly large number of the students either were of Connectilcut birth though their residence was in villages of the Reserveor entered directly from towns in that state. During the twenty years of President PROFESSOR NATHAN PERKINS SEYMOUR, LL. D. THE WESTERN RE ERVE UNIVERSI1 K 7,3 Pierces administration the college experienced some of its most prosper- ous and some of its darkest days. In the first ten years the standard of scholarship was raised, the faculty was increased from four to eight members besides tutors, and the requirements for admission were made more rigid. Four new buildings, also the Chapel, North College, the Observatory and the Athenleumwere erected in this first half of President Pierces adminis- tration. The trustees gave their cordial support to President Pierce in his efforts to increase the efficiency of the college. They stated in the cata- logues that it is the design of the trus- tees to attract students to this college by accumulating here all the means of a truly liberal education. That they succeeded in their endeavors is shown by the reputation for scholarship which the college acquired. Some years ago President Bodine of Kenyon College remarked: Western Reserve College has perhaps not been so widely known as some of the other Ohio colleges, but from the first she has been one of the very best colleges in the country. A mere enumeration of some of the distinguished men who have taught at Western Reserve Col- lege will show that President Bodines assertion was not unfounded. Among professors in the Western Reserve faculty have been such men as Elias Loomis, the mathematician and scien tist; President Bartlett, of Dartmouth; President Chadbourne, of Williams; Professor Charles A. Young, the as- tronomer, of Princeton; Professor Hickok, of Union and Amherst; Pro- fessor Barrows, the distinguished Hebraist; Professors Ladd, Seymour, Perrin, Palmer, and Bourne, of Yale, and others of equal distinction. Upon the present Yale faculty are four grad- uates of Western Reserve, three of them at the head respectively of the important departments of Philosophy, Greek and German. Dr. N. P. Sey- mour, distinguished alike as a classical and English scholar, and in courtesy and polish of manners a true gentle- man of the old school, was a member of the faculty for over fifty years. It was said by a prominent educator that during the decade of 184050 Western Reserve College, on account of the celebrity of the scientific men on her faculty, was better known in Europe than Yale itself. Probably the highest honor ever conferred upon a college west of the Alleghanies was conferred upon Western Reserve College when the first Alpha of the Phi Beta Kappa AMASA STONE, MEDICAL COLLEG 174 THE WEE TERN RESERVE UN[VERSITY. Society west of the mountains was established there by the unanimous vote of the oldest and most distin- guished colleges of Americaan honor conferred before the college was twenty-one years old. The later years of President Pierces administration were clouded with great financial difficulties. At one time the need of funds was so pressing that the college was almost forced to suspend its work. During one year there re- mained only the president, one pro- fessor and one tutor. This particular difficulty was tided over, and for thirty years longer the college continued to do good work at Hudson. In the seventies, however, the question of removing the college began to be agi- tated. Conditions had changed since the college was founded. Country colleges with small endowments have not made the advance which city col- leges have made. Western Reserve College was doing good work, but it had come to be thought that it should do, if not better work, at least more work. It was felt that if the college was to be built up into a larger institu- tion, the city was the place in which this was to be accomplished. When, therefore, Mr. Amasa Stone, of Cleve- land, offered to endow the college with five hundred thousand dollars pro- vided it would remove to Cleveland and change its name to Adelbert Col- lege of Western Reserve University, the offer was accepted by the trustees. The name Adelbert was to form a memorial to Mr. Stones son, who had been drowned while a student at Yale. A site for the college was donated by the citizens of Cleveland; and upon the completion of two large buildings, the removal was effected in 1882. At the dedication of the new build- ings of Adelbert College in 1882, President Gilman, of Johns Hopkins University, said in the dedicatory ad- dress: When the genealogy of edu- cation comes t& be written, we shall read that Old England be- gat New England, Cambridge begat New Haven, Con- necticut begat the Western Reserve, Yale begat the college at Hud- son, and the col- lege at Hudson begat the West- ern Reserve Uni- versity at Cleve- land. Western Reserve University is, therefore, an expanded Western Reserve College. The classical department of most American universities continues to be the most important member of the in- stitution, and this is true of Western Reserve University. Adelbert Col- lege is the old Western Reserve Col- lege with a new name. Her faculty is no less strong than in the early days. Professor E. W. Morley, president of the American Association for the Advancement of Science, and now absent for a year on leave, has made the college widely known at home and abroad by his labors in determining the atomic weight of oxygen. A sum- mary of his work in this field ha LIBRARY, CLARK nALL. THE WESTERN RESERVE UNIVERSITY. 75 recently been published by the Smith- sonian Institute. Professor Herrick, also, has been employed for several years by the United States govern- ment in the study of the lobster, and the results of his work are soon to be published in a volume. Many of the faculty have published successful text- books, and nearly all are contributors to the leading educational and literary magazines and periodicals. Few colleges are more favored in situation than Adelbert College. The campns of over twenty acres, an un- usually large campus for a city college, is situated on one of the most beautiful portions of the famous Euclid Avenue, directly opposite Wade Park, which forms practically a part of the college grounds. The East End, in which the college is situated, is the chief resi- dence portion of the city, and is known as one of the most refined and cultured communities in the country. Adelbert College, the main building, was erected in 1882, at a cost of one hundred thousand dollars. It con- tains the presidents and treasurers offices, recitation rooms, laboratories chapel and mnseums. Adelbert Hall, the college dormitory, contains apart- ments for sixty stndents, and is the centre of stndent life, doing much to maintain a college spirit which some city colleges withont dormitories do not have. The gymnasium was erected in i888 and has all the accessories of a first- class college gymnasium. The physi- cal laboratory, the gift of Mr. Samuel Mather, of Cleveland, is a nexv build- ing, erected last year. It is a three- story structure of brick, containing large lecture and laboratory rooms and smaller rooms for advanced work. It is said to compare favorably with the best college laboratories of the country. A building long needed is now near- ing completion. This is the new Hatch Library, the gift of Mr. H. R. Hatch, of Cleveland. It is Gothic in style, and forms a notably handsome addition to the campus. It will accommodate the present college library of between forty and fifty thou- sand volumes, and futnre additions for years. The library, while not so large as many other college libraries, is care- fully chosen and is very complete in all departments. The German depart- ment possesses, in the library of the late Professor Welhelm Scherer, of the University of Berlin, the most com- plete equipment in the country for the study of German literature and phil- ology. The library is open every day and all the students have access to all the books on the shelves. Besides Adelbert College the uni- versity consists of the College for Women, the Graduate School, the Law School, the Medical School, the Dental School, and the Western Re- serve Academy, which occupies the buildings and grounds of the old col- lege at Hudson. The College for Women of Western Reserve University occupies a unique position among womens colleges. It owes its origin to peculiar conditions. GYMNASIUM, COLLEGE FOR WOMEN. CORRIDOR, MEDICAL COLLEGE. i~6 THE WESTERN RESERVE UNIVERSITY. Co-education has its friends and its foes, and it is not proposed to enter into a discussion of its merits here. It is sufficient to say that co-education was not successful in Adelbert College. It was never formally sanctioned hy the trustees, and for several years it seriously affected the attendance of men at the college. Until the removal of the college to Cleveland, the ques- tion of co-education or no co-educa- tion was a question of little import- ance. In the classes which graduated hefore the college was removed, only five women entered, three of whom re- ceived degrees. President Cutler was a strong advo- cate of co-educa- tion; and as there vas nothing in the charter or laws of the college which he thought would prevent the admis- sion of women, he announced in his inaugural address, in 1873, that from that time women would he admitted to all the privi- leges of the col- lege on the same conditions as men. One young wo- man entered the class of 1878, and received her degree. Two others received degrees hefore the college removed to Cleveland. After the removal of the college to Cleveland, a number of young women entered the classes, mostly from Cleveland, and the attendance of wo- men was almost entirely local. The women students were always in the minority, hut their numher increased in greater proportion than the number of male students, the attendance of whom hegan to fall off rapidly. It became a question whether the college should become a college for women to the almost total exclusion of men, or whether it should he main- tamed for the purpose which its founders had in view. In voting in i888 that thereafter no more young women should he admitted to the col- lege, the trustees had no desire to exclude women from the privileges of higher education. In establishing a separate college for women, they not only had in mind the preservation of the intentions and purposes of the original founders of the college, hut it was also their desire to give women hetter advantages than they had been receiving in Adelbert College. The decision of the trustees met with considerable oppo- sition, but the re- sult has shown the wisdom of it. There are at pres- ent in the College for Wonien mor than five times as many young wo- men as ever at- tended Adelbert College in any one year. During the last four years the attendance at the Womens College has quadrupled, and its constitu- ency has broad- ened to many D. states outside of Ohio. During these same four years the attendance at Adelbert College has more than doubled. The College for Women of Western Reserve University represents the first attempt in this country to establish a womens college as a part of a uni- versity. The plan has been followed by at least two of the older and larger institutions of learning. It represents what is becoming known as codrdinate education, what is neither co-educa- tion nor separate education, but what combines, in the opinion of its advo- cates, many of the advantages of both these systems, with none of the dis- advantages of either. The College for PRESIDENT CHARLES F. THWING, D. D., LL. THE WESTERN RESERVE UNIVERSITY. 77 Women is in no sense an annex. In relation to the University it stands on exactly the same footing as the Law School or the Medical School. It has a separate faculty, an independent endowment, and two beautiful build- ings of its own. Clark Hall, designed by Richard M. Hunt, contains recita- tion rooms, offices, chapel, library and gymnasium. Guilford House, which has been enlarged during the past year to double its former capacity, is the home of such students as reside at college. In its homelike aspect Guil- ford House resembles as little as pos- sible the traditional college dormitory. Life at Guilford is what the life of vo ung women away from home should be. Few restrictions are imposed, but a watchful kindness is maintained. The building is in charge of a house- mistress, whom the girls feel to be their friend. Social life at the house is made as pleasant as possible. The students have a glee and mandolin club, which frequently enlivens the evenings after dinner. Every year a play is presented at Guilford House by the students. The present year the vIEWS IN MCI ~UM, ADELBERT COLLEGE. play was written by a former student of the college. The students conduct a monthly paper, The College Folio, which reflects much credit upon their literary ability. The duplication of endowment and equipment to conduct two classical colleges within one university is appar- ent rather than real. To maintain the standard of scholarship which the university insists upon would require quite as many teachers under the co- educational plan as under the plan adopted. Another building would be required to accommodate the classes, and the most radical advocate of co- education would not insist that it is undesirable that young men and young women should occupy separate dormitories. In libraries, laboratories and museums there is no duplication. The faculties of Adelbert College and the College for Women exchange work, so that students in both colleges. have the advantage of double instruc- tion in almost every subject taught.. Girls are not isolated from the society of young men, as in the somewhat cloister-like life of the separate college;. neither are they forced into daily inti- mate association for four years with young men whom a mother might not wish her daughter to know. The re- fining influence of young women stu- dents upon young men students in the same college is, in the writers observa- tion, a myth. The students of the College for Women meet the students of Adelbert College on exactly the same terms as they meet any other young men. 178 THE WESTERN RESERVE UNIVERSITY. In all the essentials which go to make up a good college, the College for Women will compare favorably with any other similar institution. It is not the endeavor of the officers of the college, however, to make it as good as this or that college, or better than this or that college, but to make it the best possible means for developing the highest and finest type of woman- hood. Closely connected with Adelbert College and the College for Women is the Graduate School. This school is now in its third year, and already ranks as one of the most important members of the University. The Graduate School is open without dis- tinction of sex to graduates of Western Reserve and other institutions of equal standing. It confers the degrees of M. A. and Ph. D. This department, though so recently organized, has already obtained recognition from the best of the older institutions of the East. In a hand-book of graduate courses, in which are included twenty- one of the leading universities of the country offering1 graduate instruction, the graduate department of Western Reserve University is shown in all essential features to be among the best. A Graduate Club was organized last year, and promises to be of great value to the students of this depart- ment. The faculty of nearly thirty members includes men trained at the best institutions in our own country and abroad. The Medical School was established as a department of Western Reserve College in 1844. It became a separate department when the University was organized in 1884. It occupies a building erected at a cost of a quarter of a million dollars by the late John L. Woods, of Cleveland. A further gift of $150,000 by Mr. Woods for an endowment fund places this school in the front rank of medical colleges in equipment and endowment. Land has recently been purchased imme- diately adjoining the building, upon which a commodious laboratory will be erected at once. The course of study has lately been extended to cover four years. The college has exclusive control of two large hos- pitals, thus affording it exceptionally good hospital facilities. The Dental Department, organized in 1892, has occupied rooms in the Medical College building; but the rapid increase in the number of stu- dents has made it necessary to secure more commodious quarters, and, be- ginning with the next college year, it JOnN L. WOODS. LIBRARY, LAW scnooL. TIlE WESTERN RESERVE UNIVERSITY. 79 will occupy a separate building now 1)eing erected for its use. It has a faculty of eight members, and a three years~ course. The Law School, also organized in 1892, is another prosperous depart- ment. It has a three years course, which combines the three well-known methods of teaching law, namely, the lecture system, the text-book system, and the case system. It was one of the first four or five law schools in the country to advance to a three years course. Its faculty includes seventeen members. It has a good working library, to which additions are con- stantly being made. In 1893 this school assumed the name of the Franklin Thomas Backus Law School of Western Reserve University, in memory of a distinguished lawyer of Ohio. In all the departments, student life shows a healthy college spirit. The usual student avocations are pursued with vigor and enthusiasm. In all the departments except the Dental School, one or more publications are main- tamed by the students. The Uni- versity Bulletin is the special organ of the various faculties and is a valu- able exponent of the work of the University. Adelbert College and Western Re- serve College have had a line of able and distinguished men as presidents. Of President Storrs and President Pierce we have already spoken. To President Hitchcock is due the credit of bringing the college out of the financial quagmire in which it had been struggling for years. President Hitchcock was a native of Burton and a pupil and subsequently a teacher in the Erie Literary Seminary, and his family had strongly opposed the attempt to remove that institution to Hudson. In President Hitchcock, remarkable energy and devotion to principle were united with a modest, (luiet and charitable disposition. During his administration he not only wiped out a debt of twenty-five thou- sand dollars, but he added sixty-seven thousand dollars to the permanent fund and ninety-nine thousand to the general fund; and this was done by his own exertions in a time of financial depression, and in addition to his duties as teacher and executive officer of the college. Alumni who graduated during the thirty years of Dr. Cutlers connec- tion with the college will look with fond affection upon that great and good man. Dr. Cutler was president of the college at the time of its removal to Cleveland, and upon him fell the task of adjusting old traditions and methods to new conditions. He was a man of powerful personality, and though strong-willed, was tender- hearted as a woman. He was, more- over, one of the best teachers of philT osophy it ever fell to the lot of this or any other college to have. He used his own text-books in logic and ethics, and every senior and junior who entered President Cutlers classes recognized that it was no ordinary man to whom he was reciting. Al- though a man of much culture and refinement, he was somewhat addicted to the use of slang in the freedom of his senior class-room and many a graduate will remember his I want you to ketch on; I want you to ketch on to the point. Upon one occa- sion, the writer remembers, an un- lucky senior who had been flunking with considerable regularity was called upon to recite in psychology. As he was not very prompt in his reply to the first question, the presi- dent surprised him, before he could utter a word, by reading off, in a loud, rapid and vehement tone, an entire page of Porter. Then, as he peered over his spectacles at the delinquent, who was shifting foolishly from one foot to the other, his deep voice rumbled forth, That sound familiar? and he immediately added, with his peculiar drawl, T-h-a-ts sufficient, and the astonished man sat down with- out having been given an opportunity to open his mouth. President Cutler was succeeded by i8o THE TUBS TERN RESERVE UNIVERSITY. President Hiram C. Haydn, whose administration, though short, was one of much importance to the institution. Under Dr. Haydn an impulse was given to the nniversity idea, which had been in view when the college was removed from Hudson. To him more than to any other one man, is due the foundation of the College for Women. Of the present incumbent, Dr. Charles F. Thwing, it is unnecessary to speak at length. His work shows for itself. As an organizer he is re- markably successful, and his wonder- ful attention to detail does not cause him to lose sight of the larger ques- tions of administration. During the five years that President Thwing has been in office, every department has felt the invigorating effect of his administrative ability. Three suc- cessful departments have been added to the university, four new buildings have been erected, and the funds of the institution have been increased by over half a million dollars. Wheii President Porter entered office, he is said to have remarked that it would require an increase in endow- ment of one hundred thousand dollars every year to carry out the plans which he had in view for Yale College. This is almost exactly the sum which West- ern Reserve University has received annually during the past five years. A noteworthy feature of education in the West has been the immensely rapid development, in the last few years, of the state universities over the private or endowed colleges and universities. Thus far Western Reserve University has not suffered in the contest for excellence. With an endoxvment of $2,000,000, it is, with two exceptions, the most highly endowed institution of learning west of the state of New York. It is particularly fortunate in its situa- tion in one of the most rapidly growl- ing, wealthy and cultivated cities in the country, while it is sufficiently re mote from any other large university. Western Reserve University, how- ever, has problems before it. In order to keep in the van, in competition with state endowments, it needs of its friends moneyand much money. it has noxv reached the point, in several departments, where the num- ber of students has outrun the means of giving the best instruction. To satisfy the immediate and specific needs of the University would require nearly or quite one million dollars. Perhaps the most pressing need is a biological laboratory. The number of students has increased so rapidly that the present accommodations are alto- gether inadequate, and the officers announce that work in this department must soon cease unless better facilities can be provided. It is the desire of the officers of the university to estab- lish in this centre of education a laboratory where one of the nexvest and most rapidly developing of natural sciences can be adequately taught. The University also needs a law build- ing, a new dormitory for the College for Women, a general assembly hall and a library endowment of at least one hundred thousand dollars. The trustees already have in hand twenty of the thirty thousand dollars required to erect a college Young Mens Chris- tian Association bflilding. It is hoped that this building may b~ erected dur- ing the coming year. A statement put forth in one of the early catalogues, by the trustees, with the substitution of the word uni- versity for college, may be fittingly quoted here. The trustees say that they do not believe the friends of learning and piety will suffer an insti- tution which is an efficient auxiliary to the cause they love to languish for the want of adequate support. Through the liberality of its patrons the pros- pects of Western Reserve University were never rhore flattering than at the present moment. A FAMILY BOOKCASE. By Kate Gannett Wells. ZRA STILES, who ac- cepted the presidency of Yale College in 1777, on condition that relig- ions tests should be abolished therein, was a moderate Calvinist, xvith catholic sympathies, and the best scholar of New England in his day. He never alloxved his intense convictions concerning the righteousness of the Congregational form of church polity to interfere with his scholarly tastes and antiquarian habits. By extensive correspondence and minute observation of affairs he collected an immense number of de- tails relating to colonial history which he recorded in microscopic handwrit- ing and which records are noxv largely in possession of Yale College. He also left forty volumes of manuscripts for his biography to his son-in-law, Abiel Holmes, father of Oliver Wen- dell Holmes. Long afterwards, in 1850, in a poem called Astrea, which the Autocrat delivered before the Phi Beta Kappa Society of Yale, he al- ludes to a 6opy of Plato in his own library which he had inherited from the president. There sleep the births of Platos heavenly mind. In yon dark tome by jealous clasps confined, Ohm e libris (dare I call it mine?) Of Yales great Head and KillingwortWs divine! Ezra Stiles, hoxvever, bequeathed to his posterity, as he grandly called his children, his personal and family manuscripts. Besides these he left a small number of family Bibles, old al- manacs, queer volumes on the sciences, history, physic, Latin arid, theology. A few of them are rare; all of them are odd to the modern sense of literature. Some of them he had received from his father; others he had bought through strict economy, the whole series constituting a quaint heirloom of books which have been preserved by his great-grandchildren, with a few family additiofrs, in an antique mahog- any bookcase, a marvellous structure of shelves, cupboards and drawers, and which are interesting as showing the familiar lines of thought in a ministers family a hundred years ago. Among these treasures is a bound manuscript of The Laws of Harvard College . . . which were Ratified and Concluded upon at a meeting of ye Overseers, President and Fellows of ye said College, on the 30th, 2d mth. 1655. Dearly must President Stiles have liked to compare these laws with those of his own college. Harvards Penal Laws, though equal in sever- ity to Yales, admitted a greater variety of punishments; for in 1656 the Gen- eral Court even gave the Harvard president and fellows power to punish the misdemeanors of youth in that Society either by fine or whipinge openly in the hall as the nature of the offence may Require, not exceeding ten shillings or ten stripes for one offence. Not only was undue absence from prayers punishable by a fine, but a stu- dent was nonplust as many days as he was absent and even suspended from his Seniority for a weeks time or more, and then, if still obstinate, he was expelled. But if an under- graduate Deported out of the Colledge Hall at Dinner or Supper before thanks be given without just Cause, lie lost his commons as many meals as he so offended. If he dared then to frequent the kitchen, hoping for private culinary favors, he was non- plust by the president. Most griev- ous of all was it that when a student pawned anything to any scholar the it 182 A FAMILY BOOKCASE. president could make void the bargain and admonish them both. Milder were the sumptuary laws, which ordered that No Scholar shall goe out of his Chamber without Coats, gowns or Cloaks; that no one shall have a gun in his chamber nor wear long hair, nor any gold or silver or such ornanients except to whom upon Just Ground the President shall see Cause to permit the same. Every undergraduate had to be called by his surname, unless he weie the son of a Nobleman or a Knights eldest son or a Fellow Commoner; yet these chosen few paid for the distinction of hearing their Christian names, for each was obliged to bring with him a piece of silver plate and at his departure to bequeath it to the college. But all, no matter how called, were assessed three shillings, four pence, for the use of the church gallery, on which there was a heavy debt. Hard must it have been for a student not to go into any Tavern, victualling house or Inne to eat and drink unless he be called by his parents, Guardians or without sufficient Reason such as ye President or his Tutor may approve of. Nor could he take Tobacco, bringe or stiffer to be brout into chamber strong beer, wine or strong water or any other Inebriating Drink, or Board or lie out of the Colledge without just cause allowed him by the President. Besides these penal laws there were laws about holy Duties, scholastical exercises and helps of learning. Each student was to consider the main of life and studies, which is to know god and Jesus Christ. As in other of these Stiles MSS., the word God is written without a capital. Minute as were these laws, th~ eli- quette of Harvard was exceeded by that of Yale, where not till 1768, some nine years before Ezra Stiles accepted its presidency was the old way of cata- loguing college students by their social station abandoned and an alphabetical arrangement adopted, and reasonable amusements and polite accomplishments allowed. Early dis cipline at Yale forbade any freshman to wear his hat in the college yard before the iVIay vacation, unless he had something in his hands or the weather was stormy. Even then neither fresh- men nor commencing sophomores~~ could wear their hats within five rods of a tutor, eight of a professor and ten of the president, who had the privilege of boxing them on the ear in the chapel, though the right was never acknowledged in the Rules and was given up in 1760. A freshman could not run in the college yard, nor up and down stairs, nor call to any one through a college window, nor have a light in his chamber after eleven at night nor before four in the morning. Moreover he was obliged to perform all reasonable demands for any supe- rior, just like an Eton fag. He was fined one penny if absent from prayers; four pence, if away from church; one half penny, if lazy; two and six pence for playing at cards or dice or bringing strong liquor into college. Yet though drunkenness was forbidden, a candidate for a degree was allowed two gallons of wine on Commence- ment Day, while public admonitions and confessions followed those who danced or acted in plays. Next to college matters President Stiles valued almanacs, of which the old bookcase contained many care- fully preserved. One of them, entitled An Almanack and Prognostication, bearing the date of 1562, Imprinted at London in Flete Strete, gives the ways of the winds, clouds, and storms for the year. Lillys Almanac of i6~i is contradictory, foretelling A Woful time in Scotland, Famine and Bloodshed, a declining Scottish Nation; announcing Presbitery, thou shalt not root in this Kingdom; and yet rejoicing that the Mighty God Qf all the world promiseth by his glo- rious servants, the Starres, much hap- piness unto this Nation. In a New England Almanack of celestial motions for 1669, President Stiles wrote a glossary of the words and phrases of the Pequot language A FAMILY BOOKCASE. 183 Against the date of June 24, 1675, he noted: Several persons murdered at Swanzy, which was the first English blood that was spilt by the Indians in an hostile way. Under the date of July 10, i677, in his crabbed hand- writing, are these words: The Vessel arrived at Nantasket which brought that contagious distemper, the Small Pox, which was soon taken by some of Charlestown going aboard, since which time many have taken the infec- tion and more than seven hundred already cut off by it. More amusing is The Virginia Almanack, 1762, being the second after Bissextile or Leap Year. It contains Lunations; Conjunctions; Eclipses; a table of Court days; a De- scription of the Roads through the Continent; with a list of the Council and House of Burgesses of Virginia; and was printed at Williamsburgh. These Continental Roads extended from Charleston in South Carolina to Williamsburgh in Virginia, from there to Annapolis, then on to Phila- delphia, New York and Boston. Many maxims are added upon Which the roadsters could ponder: A hand- some Wife and a fine Horse is a Coun- try parsons Coat of Arms; a Tithe Capon and a Tithe-pig are the two Supporters. Doleful prophecies are also recorded: Nov. 5, 1762, A Crisis is just at Hand when nothing but In- dustry and Frugality can save us. Dec. 5, An increase of Lawsuits amongst the Rural sort and after the Meat is gone they will pick the bones. The Almanack of 1770 has a list written by Doctor Stiles of those who audaciously continue to import Brit- ish goods. Gaines New York Pocket Alma- nack of 1795 has a gauging table; a Table of Interest at 7 pr. ct.; Rules of the New York BankBusiness Hours, ioi and 35; a list of the officers of the National Government and of the Society for promoting the manumission of slaves, of which Mat- thew Clarkson was president; the Post days at New York, when there was only one daily mail, south, east, and north; and the rates of the daily stages, Sundays excepted, when the Dili- gence carried seven and the Indus- try eight passengers from New York to Philadelphia. Each passenger was alloxved fourteen pounds of baggage gratis, but for a hundred and fifty pounds he was charged $~. Between these valuable data Presi- dent Stiles recorded the birthdays, hours and minutes, of his children, their weights and the dates of their baptisms, mingled with indignant sentences against the Baptists for de- serting their junction with the Con- gregationalists, and odd bits of oriental lore. Much beloved by President Stiles, his children and grandchildren, is a series of seven small volumes, called Circle of Sciences, published by John Newbery, London, 1769, and dedi- cated to royalty, in which Grammar, Arithmetic, Rhetoric, Poetry, Logic, Geography and Chronology were made familiar and easy to young Gentlemen and Ladies. Grammar is regarded as the groundwork of Polite Learning in which the Fair Sex i~ as deficient as in spelling, yet the English tongue is the Quintes- sence of various tongues, superior to any of the modern ones in point of Strength, Copiousness and Harmony though not as sacred as the Hebrew. It is not strange that with such a slight opinion of womans ability the author should have omitted from his Arithmetic the Doctrine of Vulgar Fractions, as too difficult for the tender capacities of those for whose service this little work is prin- cipally intended. The text-book on Rhetoric defines it as the art of speak- ing well and ornamentally on any Sub- ject, while Eloquence, that fair Enchantress, is the universal Mistress of Hearts. Saint Pauls excellent Declaration before King Agrippa and the speeches of Brutus and Antony in Julius Caesar are given as commend- able examples of the art. The most stilted in style of this 1 A FAMILY BOOKCASE. once famous Circle is the booklet on Poetry, whose whole aim and In- tention is to please aiid to instruct. Numerous juotations are given from Virgils Eclogues, Popes Elegy and Odes, Cowley, Dryden and especially from Milton, who understood human nature, for in his great Epic, Eves complaint at being removed from Par- adise is full of Softness and suitable to a Womans character, while Adams sentiments, equally moving, are of a more elevated and masculine turn. Sadly does the author grieve that so few persons know geography and chronology, for they are the Eyes and Feet of History. Yet he only says of Nexv England that it produces Timber, Cattle, Corn and Flax; the Inhabitants are chiefly Independents and Presbyterians, and the principal Town in the four Governments is Bos- ton, large, handsome and well built. He exploits other states in the same summary manner; Virginia is remark- able for the vast number of oyster shells found intermixed with the Earth at the Depth of three or four yards in many places. In Chronology he fol- lows the Hebrew computation; and he states that Logic is an advance upon Common sense for our discourse should alxvays he laid out in the form of Syllogisms, that we may knoxv whereabouts we are and what we are doing. Another work which Ezra Stiles must have conned with diligence for the use of his numerous family is in two volumes and entitled: Medi- caments for the Poor or Physick for the Common People. The first vol- ume was written in Latin by John Prevotious, Philosopher and publick Professor of Physick in Padua; the second, by one Culpepper, was called, Health for the Rich and Poor by Diet without Physick. Both were printed in 1670, by John Streater for George Sawbridge dwelling in Clerkenwell green. In the preface, Prevotious says: My intent in pub- lishing Books of Physick in English is not to make fools physicians but to help those that are Ingenious, Rational and Industrious though they have not that knowledge of Tongues that wcre to be desired. Then follows a list of Discussives (helps for the discussing of Wind); Rubifications (so called because they redden the skin)~ Remedies and Medicaments (Scouring Medicaments wipe away clamminess, etc.). There are rein- edies which excel those in Southeys IDoctor. For Sweating, make Fomentation of quick Lime quenched in Brinistone; for the Cramp that comes of Repletion take five Stel- lions or else green lizards, infuse them alive in Ovle of Camomile, eight ounces, and when they are dead, let them boyle in it till their flesh be con- sumed, then press all out, to which add the third of the dripping of a roasted Goose that was filled with Frankincense Lard, Myrrh and a little Saffron. Ulcers and wounds are diseases of dissolved unity. Could any description of them be more terse! In part second the sick are advised to keep as much as may be from the view of dainty Feasts and Banquets, for the more anything is delectable to Gluttony, the more abominable it proves when tis concocted, and as all diseases have their original form in Repletion, the evil of the influence of the Planets lies not in the Planets but in our own Bodies. However much President Stiles cared for science or antiquarian lore, his bounden duty as a preacher com- pelled him to cling fast to theology, sermons and Bibles. In the ancestral bookcase there is a row of Stiles Bibles, the oldest of which, bearing the inscription Proavorum et Mater- me IVlemento Virtutis ac Pietatis, was the preaching Bible of Ezras father, who died in 1670. It is bound in black leather with gilt ornaments, and on the blank pages between the Old and New Testaments, that time-hon- ored receptacle for family records and useful receipts, are Tables of Weights, Measures, Money and Time, a record of the Stiles line of ancestors and the A FAMILY BOOKCASE. 135 dates of their baptisms, which were of more divine significance than the written facts of their births. On the fly-leaf of the Bible belong- ing to his wife and given her by her Lather, the president xvrote that in the last four years of her life she had read it throughout five times, as appeared by her memorandum of the dates of beginning and finishing it. This was the Bible xvhich was always used in household xvorship at Newport, when the family were living there. It is full of notes, maps and curious insignifi- cant learning, often written in Hebrew. After the wifes death it was given to the (laughter, who gave it to her 1)rother-in-law, Abiel holmes, the father of Oliver Wendell Holmes, by whom it was restored to its Biblical relatives. Other Bibles are interspersed with dates of their perusals and with records, the line of ownership descend- ing to the great-grandson of Ezra Stiles. Among them by way of col- lateral interest, is an old Bible of Jeremy Belkuaps, date of 1767, which gives the order in which Pauls epistles were \vr~tten, according to Doctor Lardner. It has also a series of notes concerning the reconciliation of the natural time for the putting forth of figs with the Gospel version of the fig tree. This was a favorite subject for discussion even forty years ago, by which one xvas proved to be a radical or a conservative according to his view of the case. Most precious was a parchment manuscript of the Gospel of Matthexv ~n embossed covers of curious pigskin, w ith little medallions of Luther, Eras- us and 1\Ielanchthon stamped on it, and at the bottom the date 1551, and the letters I. A. I. D. at the top. To these holy volumes have been added the Bibles of Ezra Stiless grandchildren. Of one of these, E. S. G. wrote in i8~o: I received my Bible as you wrote that you hoped I should, not so much as your gift as the gift of God, hoping that I shall be made wise to salvation. The Preach ing Book of the presidents son-in- law, Caleb Gannett, and the parish book of his grandson, E. S. Gannett, are intimate hints of funerals, mar- riages and baptisms, of teas, dinners and parish-calls, and of exchanges, for those were the days when the min- isters by frequent exchanges saved themselves from the nervous prostra- tion of modern life, and when congre- gations still respectfully went to church even if they did not like the preacher with whom their own parson ex- changed. There was also a Greek Testament, a London (Pickering) edition, given by H. and M. L. Ware to Rev. E. S. Gannett, and a New Testament from the University Press, Oxford, labelled, From the Cargo of the Anglo- Rebel Blockade Runner. Still another family Bible of three generations, be- longing first to B. P. Tilden, bears the record of his voyages, 294,000 miles in all, and the xvords: This Bible has been my travelling companion since i8i5. Sunday, Feb. 28, 1836, Near Home. If this my Bible rcaches shore, We together go to sea no more. With Doctor Stiles, next in dignity to Bibles ranked sermons. The oldest of these, carefully bound together and including the work of three genera- tions of preachers, dates back to 1742. Among them is one by Abiel Holmes, in which he traced a happy resem- blance between the conduct of the Jew- ish King (Hezekiah) and the Ameri- can President (Washington), and urged the necessity of a National Re- ligion as the best insurance for National Salvation. It took a single volume, however, to hold the Election sermon (of 171 pages) by Ezra Stiles before the Gen- eral Assembly in Hartford, in 1783, on the righteous theme, Holiness ought to be the end of all Civil Gov- ernment. In it he reviewed the Rev- olution, predicted the annihilation of the Pontificate, the reassembling of the Jews, and the fulness of the Gentiles. He set forth the evils of lay-ordination, i86 A FAMILY BOOKCASE. and called the opulent and pious Gouvernour Winthrop I. the Ameri- can Nehemiah. Of controversial interest at least is John Bowdens reply to Stiless sermon on the ordination of Rev. Henry Chan- ning in 1787, at Nexv London, Conn. It was written as an Antidote to the Poison contained in the Congrega- tional presidents discourse; for as a rector, Bowden was indignant at the assertion that the Episcopal ordina- tion began in the fifth century, whereas, says the churchman, Bishops were an order superior to Presbyters within forty years of the Apostolic Age. Prized also as original family matter was A Family Tablet of poems com- posed in 1796, by the presidents chil- dren and designed to perpetuate the memory of joys that are past and to pay a funereal tribute to the memory of friends. Wisely does the preface state that If the partiality of affection has given it (the Tablet) an undue estimation, candour will draw her veil over the venial error. In truth the poems are not as quaint as a short memoir of a nephew (J. L.) of the presidents who, possessing a heart that glowed with generous feel- ings and virtuous principles, yet xvent to dancing school! Still it was his treatise on A Concise View of the New Covenant which his sister gave to her nephew, E. S. G., as a source from which he may draw comfort and consolation. Yet another honored family book was one which belonged to President Stiless wife, given her by her daugh- ter Ruth in 1775, on Immanuel or a Discovery of True Religion. So sorely then were the womens hearts troubled with the dangers which en- compassed their men-folk, that this little volume with its Healing Preface must have solaced the wifes fears. Perhaps it was the mother who, in turn, gave Ruth when a child, as an entertaining picture-book, her wee New England Primer, adorned with cuts, one of which represented a bier and Rachel opposite it in full skirts and deep bonnet: Rachel doth mourn For her first-born. As Ruth grew older, she had as her comforter The Marrow of the Oracles of God, by N. Bifield, twelfth London edition, 1647, and dedicated to royal ladies, from which she learnt that Naturall Atheisme and Epicurisme were sinnes against Gods Nature. In delightful contrast to the sobriety of the Oracles was the worldly wisdom of Doctor Cozens fables, Philadel- phia, 1788, which Ruth owned, and which the modern decadent woman would disown. From their Argu- nients she found that personal beauty could be obtained by possession of moral sentiments, for ignorance, folly and vice were alike inconsistent with. mental and corporal pulchritude. If a Puritan maiden were over inclined to gayety, the Fables admonish her to be a High Flier in the regions of grace, and to remember that dancing was among the lost arts and that do- mestic life was the true sphere of female glory. The intensity of the presidents con- viction concerning Congregationalism was inherited by his daughter, a belief which must have been fostered by re- peated perusal of the London edition, i66o, of the Old Non-Conformist. It was abridged from the volume of 1605, which itself was an abridgment of the book which the ministers of Lin- coln diocese delivered to King James as their apology for action. If ~ts pages taught the staid and gentle maiden toleration in religion, they also told her that as for unnecessary ceremonies, Bowing, Organs, Crosse, Surplice, Holy Place, Vestments, Time, excepting the Lords Day, let them never be imposed; for from the time of Moses constitution nothing was to be added or diminished even to a Pin in the worship of God. A hundred years ago this was not a queer library for ones grandmother to inherit. Dearly did she love the books, once lovingly writing her name in them, with the diminutive Ruthy. By their aid she grew up into an hum A FAMILY BOOKCASE. 187 ble, trusting handmaiden of the Lord, caring for her liftie son Ezra, embroid- ering his baby-caps, writing verses to make Learning easy for him, and arranging wee paper blank-books in which he should write the Sunday ser- mon texts. One of these books has for its printed title the words: The iViothers Gift to her little Boy, con- taining Prayers, Hymns and other pieces designed for his improvement and amusement. When she knexv that the end of her short life was near, she ordered a plentiful supply of hard gingerbread to be prepared, as her husband and the friends who would gather at her funeral might need it; and she smiled as the odor of the bak- ing came into her room. Just before she was married she had given her best clothes to her sister, for inasmuch as they had been bought with the fathers money they still belonged in his family. But as a wife her strict sense of ownership led her to bequeath her choicest garments to her husbands daughter for she had no little girl of her own. Her honesty was rightly derived from the president, for when he finally published his History of the Three of the Judges of King Charles, he advertised at its end that, as the size of the book is altered from that mentioned in the proposals, it is but just that the subscribers should be left at their liberty to take the books or not as they please. Among the treasures which came to Ruths little boy were the parchment Latin editions for which far earlier Ezra Stiles had cared almost as much as for his theological folios. He loved good Latin as Howells nowadays loves colloquial English; and if he had had the right he xvould have admitted to Yale College Miss Lucinda Foote at the age of fourteen, because she con- strued her Latin so admirably. Ruth herself may have conned her first Latin lessons out of a queer, rare book of Latin synonyms, London edition of 1639, published by Griffini, which must have confused her sense of rela- tive values: for the equivalents of In the beginning are In principis, In exordis, and Prima specie, while for Beggar she read Pauper, Inops and Flebilis. A better guide into the mys- teries of language was the Leipsic edition of her Gradus ad Parnassum sive, Epithetorum et Phrasicum Poeticarum Thesaurus, from which she may have gained the first knowl- edge of poetic feet which afterwards induced her to compose verses for her baby son. Of larger aid must have been the Elzevir (Amsterdam) edition, 1642, of lanna Aurea Linguarum, combined with a Greek version by Comenius. Roman history she could have learned from the famous text-book of Pater- culus, again an Elzevir edition of 1678 (though now the Elzevirs no longer bring their former fancy price). Yet the Histori~ Roman~ itself was written A. D. 30. The manuscript was discovered in the monastery of Murbach in Alsace and printed in 1520 at Basel; though its author was a sol- dier, his right to fame rests upon this history. Then there was the Histo- rke Alexandri Magni of Curtius (1649), a Cambridge edition of Ter- ence (1662), and an edition in parch- ment covers of Hippocrates, published by Foesius at Frankfort, in 1596, in- scribed, Magni Hippocratis Medi- comm omnivm facile princeps opera omnia qu~e extant. Very precious are two little books bound together. The first is Juvenals Satires, Paris edition of 1528, apud Simonem Colineum. The second far surpasses it in interest, for it is the Institvtiones Rhetorical, longe aliter tractat~e quam antea Phillipi Melanch- thonis, from the same Paris press, but in 1531. Were the preaching elo- quence of Ezra Stiles and his father Isaac, and the versifications of his chil- dren, modelled upon the golden- tongued preacher of a mild Protestant- ism? Be that as it may, at least the president had studied an Anthology of Italian poems rendered in Latin, Lon- don edition, 1684. Its original com- piler was Atterbury, Bishop of Roch i88 A FAMILY BOOKCASE. ester, but afterwards the collection was amplified by Pope and published by him in two volumes In odor of medi~val sanctity, chief among these books was a Roman Missal, a quarto, leather-bound, worm- eaten volume, with brass corners and clasps and pages mended xvith bits of thin leather, published Ex D ecreto Sacrosancti Concilii Triden- tini, at Antwerp, Ex officina Plan- tiniana, 1624. Its wood cuts were of more startling significance than those in Ruths Primer, for in the illustration of the Lords Supper a diminutive paschal lamb is outstretched on the table and Jesus is pushing the sop into the mouth of Judas. The music of the lViissal is printed in (liamond and square shaped black notes on red lines. With this folio ranked in Catholic valuation a parchment book of 1498, Moralia Sancti Gregorii Pape in libros Beati Job, by Gregory the Great, who left more works than any other Roman pontiff. According to the convictions of the Congregationalists, however, this papal volume was far outranked in importance by a thick parchment edi- tion of Calvins Institutes, issued at Basel in 1536, xvith a preface addressed to Francis I. of France; a Catechism for the Church at Geneva, and an ex- planation of symbols. Of didactic and social instruction also to those who would be in the world and yet not of it was the Oxford edition of i668 of the Mori~ Enconium of Erasmus, the remarkable work which he wrote on his journey back to England. Appended to it is his reply to Martin Luther and to other lesser dignitaries skilled in dogmatic fencing. Of medi~val fiction in this library there was but one volume which lightened the classicism of a more dis- tant past, and that was a parchment covered edition published in 1703, of the famous Argenis of John Barclay, a French poet and theologian. In his early days he was inclined to heresy, but he recovered himself in time to half apologize for it and to be invited to Rome by Paul V. There he xvrote this Latin romance, which has been translated into nearly every modern language and praised by such different men as Leibnitz, Richehien and Cowper. it is pleasant to think of the concealed enjoyment this lengthy novel must have given to the grim president, who after all tenderly be- lieved in human love, thotigh he leaned upon divne grace. As an antidote to the pleasures of imagination he probably found mate- rial for his historical and theological speculations in the London edition of Adairs History of the American InC-ins treating of their Hebraic pedigree, as proved by their division into t1~bes their method of counting and t~mir language and dialects which aopear to have the very idioms and cenins of the Hebrew. Proudly does Adair Thir u that with proper cultiva- tion the Indians would shine in higher spheres of life. Meanwhile he enjoyed their wild potatoes from South Carolina to Mississippi, which partly serve them instead of bread. Adair, himself a trader, does not hesi- tate to confess that though the early traders were good men, most of them are generally (that is, in his day) the dregs and offscourings of our colonies. Among the presidents English books there was not one more amus- ingly ilhiberal than the famous Simple Cobbler of Aggawamm in America, by Nathaniel Ward, London edition of 1647. The son of a Puritan clergy- man, Ward became first a Churchman and then a Non-Conformist, where- upon he was suspended by Archbishop Laud, and for consolation in 1634 came to New England and was settled as pastor in Agawam or Ipswich. He called himself an Interpendent and drew up the code of laws called Body of Liberties, which was adopted by the Colonists. Hawthorne said of him that he hammered his sole so faithfully and stretched his upper leather so well that the shoe is hardly worn out yet. In 1646 he returned A FAMILY BOOKCASE. 189 lo England, and a year later published his chief satire, which was followed by another against the London 1)reachers called, The Simple Cob- bIers Boy xvith his Lap full of Caveats. Ward was not only a dogmatist and a caustic wit, but was so fiercely anti- liberal that his Simple Cobbler abounds in denunciation of toleration. On its title-page he declares his willingness to help mend his Native Country, lamentably tattered both in the upper Leather and sole, with all the honest stitches he can take. It is his Trade to patch all the year long gratis. Consequently he begins his repairs by objecting to the Magna Charta, so-called, of a West Indian Is1and . . . which firmly provides free stable room and litter for all kinds of consciences; for God doth nowhere in his word tolerate Christian States to give Toleration to such adversaries M his Truth if they have power in their hands to suppress them. My heart, he writes, bath naturally de- tested foure things, The standing of the Apocrypha in the Bible; Forrain- ers dwelling in my Countrey to crowd out native subjects into the corners of the Earth; Alchymized comes; and Toleration of divers Religions or of one Religion in segregant shapes. Polypiety is the greatest impiety in the world. He hopes that no Member of the Parliament will watch a time to midwife out some ungracious Tol- ~ration; . . . for universal Toleration . . would make Christs Academy the Devills University. He would have ~all Christian States decry all such er rors by some peremptory Statutory Aft, and wants children baptized, though their parents judgment be against it. He is willing that woman shouldhonour herself with herattire, but not to ask what is the nudius- tertian fashion of the Court with egge to be in it in all haste whatever it be; for as Nine Taylors make a man, it were well if nineteene could make a woman to her mind. He invites his dearest King . . . to make his peace with God for the vast heritage of sinne your intombed father left upon your score and for his own sins, the sophis- tication of Religion and Politics; and says of the Souldiery, Cnrsed be he that maketh not his Sword starke drunk with Irish blood. Neither President Stiles nor his gentle daughter, Ruth, could have relished the ugly bigotry of this book, though its humor and its doggerel verses, hobnails, Ward called them to clinch his work,may have fastened its reasoning in their minds. Still it remains as a curious warning against hatred of toleration, and with the Latin schoolbooks now discarded, the row of family Bibles, the battered Almanacs and the manuscript Laws of Harvard, points to a time xvhen learning xvas hard to achieve, when Congregational- ism misused its heritage of freedom, and when mere perusal of the Bible was the outward sign of sanctification. Yet President Stiles did acknowledge that the Bible to an unconverted Man is no better than an old Almanack; though he added that such a proposi tion ought never to be made by Maw THE CHOICE OF UNITED STATES SENATORS. By 3tohn H. Flagg. INCE the organiza- tion of the govern- ment, 928 citizens of the respective states have served in the Senate of the United States, 783 having been elected thereto by the various legis- latures and 145 hav- ing been appointed by governors. Be- ginning with twenty-six members from the thirteen original states, which then had a population of less than 4,000,000, we have lived to see it a body of ninety members from forty- five states having a population of 70,- ooo,ooo. The Senate of to-day is a larger body by nearly one-third than was the House of Representatives dur- ing the first Congress of the republic. Since its organization in 1789, the Senate has passed i 1,916 laws and resolutions of a public nature, varying in importance from a declaration of war to the change in the name of some obscure national bank, and it has, with- in that period, passed private laws to a number almost beyond computation; it has ratified or rejected 969 treaties with Indian tribes and foreign powers; sanctioned the expenditure of $13,- 896,172,639 of the public moneys; and, in addition to the stupendous labor involved in this mass of legislative work, it has held solemn inquest as a court of impeachment. in the trial of seven federal officers, charged by the House of Representatives with high crimes and misdemeanors. In the most memorable of these trials, the executive himself escaped conviction only by a single vote, after a long and tedious trial, during which the country awaited the result through intense agitation and profound apprehension. And when, in the history of the coun- 190 try, more than at the present time, has been demanded a higher standard in our national Senate, which is to deal with the momentous problems which now confront us arising from the condition of our finances and cur- rency and to determine xvhat should be our foreign policy in controversies. gravely agitating the public mind? Is it not therefore manifest that what- ever tends to elevate or degrade the standard of the personnel in that august assemblage of men becomes at once a matter of high public concernone entitled to earnest hearing and con- siderate investigation? Navigable channels, through un- seen influences, are constantly shifting, and the experienced mariner while yet in safe waters drops anchor here and there to determine by repeated sound- ings whether the precise course entered upon can be continued with safety. In these concluding years of the century, is it not a fitting time t& pause and consider whether obstruc- tions have not imperceptibly drifted into the channel wherein our ship of state is proceeding, the removal of which will serve to guide her more securely toward the broader sea of a new century, the roar of whose breakers even now falls upon the listening ear? One of those obstruc- tions it is the object of the present paper to discuss. There exists in Vermont, for in- stance, the unvarying practice in the selection of United States senators a part of her unwritten law so to speak, which requires that one senator shalt have residence on the east side of the mountains and the other on the west side, as if Mountains interposed Make enemies of nations, who had else, Like kindred drops, been mingled into one. The abolition of this rule would, I THE CHOICE OF UNITED STATES SENATORS. 9 ~submit, tend to benefit not Vermont alone, but all the states as well. Ver- mont, like every other state, should send to the national councils her ablest, purest, foremost men; and the notion that any particular person, however well qualified, cannot be con- sidered as eligible because, forsooth, the water happens to drizzle from his door-yard toward the Connecticut or toward Champlain, is an absurdity which should be repudiated. A con- sideration of topography may be cssential in the location of railroads and canals, but hardly so in the selec- tion of candidates for the Senate of the United States. The manifest effect of such a rule that which arbitrarily ostracizes practi- cally one half of the population from consideration each time that a senator is to be electedis not only destitute of all reason in itself, but inures to the advantage of inferior men and serves to deprive the state and nation of the services of men of conspicuous and pre~minent qualifications. Moreover, it encourages an idea of ownership or proprietary interest of one section of the state to the exclusion of another, which is pernicious and confusing in its tendency and, to say the least, of questionable propriety in observance of the principle on which representa- tion of the states in the national Senate depends. Again, the constitution, adopting the plan put forth by Mr. Randolph in the constitutional convention, while providing that members of the House of Representatives shall be voted for directly, withholds from the people of the respective states the function of voting directly for senators. Referring to the purpose of this provision, Pro- fessor l3ryce, in his American Com- monwealth, observes that the choice of senators by the state legislatures is supposed to have proved a better means than direct choice by the people of discovering and selecting the littest men. And hence Hamilton, com- menting in the Federalist on this feature of the constitution, in the very year of its adoption, says: Through the medium of the state legislatures, xvho are select bodies of men and who are to appoint the members of the national Senate, there is reason to expect that this branch will generally be composed with peculiar care and judgment and that these circumstances promise greater knowledge and more comprehensive information in the national councils. The constitution requires of senators that they shall have attained an age five years in excess of that required for members of the House of Representatives and that they shall have resided in their respec- tive states a longer period than that prescribed for members of the lower house. While it is thus evident that the framers of the constitution bestowed extreme care to ensure for the Senate members of mature years and com- manding abilities, which was regarded at the time as a triumphant solution of a difficult problem in statesmanship, is it not a sorry realization of these sup- posed safeguards that we are forced to admit that the body calculated by them to represent the conservatism of the country is to-day practically dom- inated by a mere handful of Populists, who hold the balance of power, and that all vital public measures are to be held subject to their dictation and to all the radical theories which they represent? Why then should any state, by a self-imposed and arbitrary restraint, endeavor to defeat these high aims by virtually restricting her field of selec- tion to the extent of one half her opportunity? It would seem apparent that, by as much as any state reduces the territory from which a candidate may be chosen, the chances for secur- ing the fittest men are reduced in like ratio. Under such a system, well may the voter repeat the exclamation of the disconsolate Portia: I may neither choose whom I would, nor refuse whom I dislike. Continuing with Vermont for our illustration: Here is a small state both 192 THE CHOiCE OF UATITED STATES SENATORS. in population and area. Her indus- tries, however diversified, are all sub- ordinated to that of agriculture, which prevails uniformly throughout her borders. Having no large, congested cities, her population is native, homo- geneous and rural, with no conflicting aims or rival interests among her people. The wants and necessities of one community are precisely those of every other; and the views of her sena- tors on all questions directly or re- motely affecting the interests of the state or nation would naturally be identical. I have asked why any state, and especially a small, homogeneous statq like Vermont, should insist on this preposterous rule? And why do I ask the question? Because a state like Vermont can hope to maintain her primacy in the national councils only by sending to them her ablest and fore- most men. On the score of numerical strength alone, this particular state has lost woefully from the day of her admission to the Union in j~i. At that time her relative representation in both Houses of Congress stood as I to 35. In i8io, this ratio began to decline, and stood as i to 40. In i8~o, it had declined further, and stood as i to 6o. In i88o, it had fallen still more, and then stood as i to ion. And to- day, in the present Congress, it stands as i to ii ithus showing a reduction of her relative voting stiength to less than one-third of xvhat ~he enjoyed when she entered th~ Unon in 1791. Notwithstanding the mci ease of the states population nearly fourfold since her admission, xve see that she is constantly losing ground; and she must necessarily continue to decline so long as her population remains practi- cally stationary (as, for instance, since i8~o) and the more rapid growth of other states and the admission of new ones steadily reduce her ratio of repre- sentation in Congress by each succeed- ing apportionment. The meagre population of Vermont when com- pared with that of other states would, in any event, place that state at a singular disadvantage when selecting- senators. The average population of the other states is 1,318,764, whereas. the population of Vermont is only 332,000. The motive, therefore, for increasing this disproportion by reduc- ing the opportunity of selection to a.. population of i66,ooo as against eight times the number existing in the other states is incomprehensible. It might be accounted for on altruistic prin- ciples if the system conferred benefit upon anybody else; but it tends only t~ the injury of everybody. Although several of the states in their senatorial elections endeavor to- confine their choice to a certain por- tion of their territory, excluding every- body outside of it, and while Vermont has never elected a senator except in pursuance of such a rule, only one state in the Union and here we leave New England and go southhas. enacted rigid restraints upon future legislatures by positive provisions of law. Maryland, in 1809, passed a statute providing that one of the sena- tors shall always be an inhabitant of the eastern shore and the other of the western shore of that state. Divided. by the Chesapeake Bay into two parts. from five to twenty-five miles distant from each other, there was perhaps. some pretext for this anomaly, not existing with other states. Yet its. operation has been fruitful of no bene- fit, but has led to untold mischief. Strange as it may seem, no political organization hitherto seems to have possessed the moral courage to- grapple xvith it as a party issna. But recent events have aroused both parties to a sense of its absurdity and injustice, and the discussion now going on may reasonably be expected. to lead to its ultimate repeal. The desperation of the element opposed to- repeal existng in the counties of the eastern shore, which contain less than one-fifth of the states population, affords a fitting comn-wntary upon the ravenous appetite for public place when stimulated by a legislative enact-- ment of this character. TI-JR CHOICE OF UATITED STA TES SENd TONS. 93 Is it not a farcical outcome (though a perfectly natural one) of the whole Maryland business, that when in 1867 the dominant party in that state desired to elect to the Senate one of her most distinguished citizens, who had the misfortune to reside within the inhibited territory, the statute had to be bodily repealed before the election could be proceeded with? Such, how- ever, is the fact. But the measure was promptly re~nacted and stands to-day as a menace to every future legislature, notwithstanding the recent election of Mr. Wellington, which set its provi- sions at defiance. The fact that any state tolerates a public statute of any character to be enforced or disre- garded according to the strength or weakness of a particular faction is deplorable, as tending to undermine espect for and obedience to every other law enacted for the government of its people. It is obvious that the concession of a senator to this locality or to that merely to gratify a peevish claim, or that any practice of selecting senators with a primary object of placating local grievances or gratifying local resentments, must of necessity fall short of securing the fittest men. Of course there have always been in every community, and ever will be, certain ambitious persons, eager for political preferment, ready to seize upon any plausible pretext to advance their personal chances; and foremost of these pretexts is the constantly paraded claim of locality. This con- sideration is persistently urged by candidates and friends of candidates for all sorts of public office, to offset frequent painful deficiencies on the score of merit. But it passes under- standing that this invidious custom should have been adopted by any state as a controlling consideration in con- ferring one of the highest honors the commonwealth can bestow. The states of Delaware, Illinois, Kansas, New I-Iampshire and O:e;on had in the last Congress senators whose residence was in the same city or township; while the senators of numerous other states resided in con- tiguous counties and in neighboring townships of the same counties. Most of the states select their strongest men, no matter what their residence, which has about as much to do with character or capacity as if the given person lived in a brick house or a frame house or xvas bald-headed or left-handed. For years and simul- taneously, the state of New York and that of New Hampshire chose their respective senators, the one from the same interior city and the other from adjoining townships. Vermonts senators on the other hand have from the beginning been apportioned be- tween the east and west sides of her range of mountains with an accuracy that would do credit to a corps of civil engineers. There has been but one deviation. Early in 1853, on the death of Senator Upham, Judge Phelps, although living on the west side, where the other senator also resided, was appointed to the vacancy. The reason of the appointment, how- ever, was that Judge Campbells nomi- nation as justice of the Supreme Court was awaiting confirmation by the Senate, and it was extremely doubtful whether any person then in Vermon*, even with the utmost expedition, could reach the capital in time to help the Whigs on the vote. Judge Phelps, who happened to be in Washington at the time, was for this reason alone appointed by the governor. It may be claimed that Vermont at least has never experienced any mis- fortune in acting under such a rule; and with such names on the senatorial scroll as those of a Prentiss, a Colla- mer, a Poland, a Morrill, or those of a Foot, an Edmunds or a Proctor, it is not unnatural that such a claim should be asserted. But were these distin- guished statesmen selected because of the role or in spite of it? \Vithout it would not these identical persons have been equ~dly eligible, and is it not fairly supposable that other gifted and desir- able candidates would have been pre 194 THE CHOICE OF UNITED STATES SENATORS. sented whom the rule utterly precluded from consideration? It does not answer the objections here raised to say that senatorial elections are of in- frequent occurrence, or that under any circumstances a fairly capable man is certain to be elected. If the system is a bad one per se, the time to realize it is now. Under the inexorable appli- cation of the rule, may it not happen that a citizen of the preeminent abili- ties of a Collamer or an Edmunds in Vermont, or a John A. Pearce or a Reverdy Johnson iii Maryland, who is unquestionably preferred by the people, must be ignored as completely as if he resided in Maine or Mexico, while some person of confessedly in- ferior attainments and standing suc- cessfully urges himself to an election? This is the danger; and while I do not claim that such result has often fol- lowed, it is liable to follow in any sena- torial electionand such a contin- gency should not be invited. I have deferred until the last all allusion to the manifest unconstitu- tionality of these measures, a consider- ation which, by reason of its conclu- siveness, might well have been stated at the beginning; I have preferred to discuss the question from the stand- point of what states and communities ought to perform as a high and patriotic duty, rather than what they ought to refrain from performing be- cause inhibited. Objectionable as these practices are in other respects, they are vastly more objectionable because of their unconstitutionality, a fact which has been clearly estab- lished. Perhaps the leading case on the subject is the notable one of Judge Trumbull of Illinois, who, in June, 1852, was elected judge of the Supreme Court of that state for the term of nine years, but resigned after one years service. In February, 1855, he was elected to the Senate of the United States. Objection to his being seated was made because the constitution of Illinois provided that judges should not be eligible to any office of trust or profit in the United States during the term for which they were elected. After careful deliberation the Senate declared by a vote of thirty-five yeas to eight nays that Mr. Trumbull was entitled to his seat, the ground of the decision being that, the constitu- tion of the United States having pre- scribed what qualifications a senator shall possess,viz., that he shall be of the age of thirty years, shall have been at least nine years a citizen of the United States, and shall be an inhabi- tant of the state from which he is chosen,no state by statute or other- wise could add qualifications not there- in prescribed. Cases have since arisen where the same principle has been up- held, the most recent one being that of Mr. Faulkner, elected a senator from West Virginia, and decided unani- mously in his favor by the Senate in i888. Various state courts wherein the question has collaterally arisen have always held the same way. Each house of Congress having been made, by the constitution, sole judge of the election, return and qualifica- tion of its own members, the ruling of the Senate, even if the courts had held otherwise, would be paramount and conclusive. Foremost among the admonitions contained in Washingtons farewell address to his countrymen was that, toward the preservation of your gov- ernment and the permanency of your present happy state, it is requisite that you resist with care the spirit of inno- vation upon its principles, however specious the pretexts. This sublime sentiment ought for all time to pervade the hearts and minds of those who, through blood and tears, have become its guardians and defenders. Ani- mated by this spirit and this purpose, the mighty argosy of state will never be wrecked by obstructions of ques- tionable constitutionality or impeded by corroding barnacles upon her keel. The vigilant watch in the foretop will ever be alert for peril, and give timely warning to the lusty crew below to whom her safety and destiny have been committed. AUGUSTA, THE CAPITAL OF MAINE. By Ewing W. Hamien. THE earliest predecessor of the modern city of Angnsta of which history has any record is the Indian trading post which was estab- lished near the spot where the capital of Maine now stands, and which was called by the Indian name of Cnshnoc. The large tract of land on both sides of the river Kennebec, from Merry- meeting Bay to its sonrce, was occn- pied by the powerfnl tribe of Indians named Canibas; and this land was granted by the Conncil of Plymonth to William Bradford and his associates in 1629. Bradford traded np the Ken- nebec, more or less, and one of the principal gathering points of the Cani- bas tribe was Cnshnoc. In 1640 the Kennebec patent was snrrendered by Bradford to the New Plymonth Colony; and in that year the conncil established a trading post at Cushnoc. This post was maintained by the conncil until i66o, bnt in that year the patent passed into other hands. Some sort of a post seems to have existed at Cushnoc most of the time, bnt no attempt was made to erect a settlement here until abont a hnn- dred years after the post was given np by the New Plymonth Conncil. In 1692 the remains of the old trading post were still to be seen; bnt it was not till 1732 that Governor Beicher contemplated the fonnding of a settle- ment and the establishment of a mis- sion at Cushnoc. This idea was never carried into effect, and when the first settlement actually was founded in 1754 it was on no such peacefnl basis as that designed by Governor Belcher. There was an Angusta in Maine as early as 1714; bnt it had nothing in common with the present city except the name, and its life was very short. It was a small settle- ment founded in 1714 by Dr. Oliver Noyes, who was then part owner of the Pejepscot patent, embracing lands near the month of the Kennebec; and the remains of the stone fort and fish- ing settlement which he made on the shores of the Alliquippa harbor at Small Point, and named Augusta, are still to be traced. This Augusta had been deserted when the Plymouth Company in 1754 erected a fort on the eastern bank of the Kennebec River at Cushnoc, which they named Fort Western. This fort was situated close to the river bank, and consisted of a palisade of timber, with a square block house at each of two diagonally oppo- site corners, and a main building con- taining the store and dwelling houses. This main building is still standing in good preservation, near the east end of the present Kennebec bridge at Au- gusta. The fort was garrisoned by twenty men, and four cannon were mounted in it. A road fit for the passage of wheeled carriages was built to Fort Halifax, eighteen miles up the river, by order of Governor Shirley, and a series of expresses, by means of whale boats, was arranged between Fort Halifax and Falmouth, calling at Fort Western, the trip up or down the river being made in from twenty to twenty-four hours. In 1755 the war with the French and Indians broke out; but Fort Western 95 196 AUGUSTA, THE CAPITAL OF MAINE. was left in comparative quiet and did not suffer much. In 1760 large grants were made of the land below Cushnoc bordering on the Kennebec, Dr. Syl- vester Gardiner and Benjamin Hallo- well respectively taking large grants in the towns now bearing their names. In 1762 the first grants were made to the settlers at Cushnoc, and in the fol- lowing year these grants were ex- tended farther up the river. The peace of 1763, by which France renounced all claim to Canada and other posses- sions in North America, brought in its train a most favorable change in the condition of things along the Kenne- bec valley. With the end of the war the colonists settled down to their more peaceful vocations, strengthened their civil organization, and in- creased their trade. It was not till after the fall of Quebec, in 1759, that any buildings were erected at Cushnoc out- side of Fort Western; but five years later a census showed that there was a population in Gardiners- town and the settlements at Cobbossee, Cushnoc and Fort Halifax of be- tween two and three hundred whites. The town of Hallowell was incorporated in 1771, and in- cluded in its limits the present city of Augusta, the town of Chelsea, and a large portion of the towns of Farmingdale and Manchester. The towns of Vassalborough, Winslow and Winthrop, farther up the river and more inland, were incorporated in the same year. James Howard may be con- sidered as being the first settler at Cushnoc. He was appointed commander of Fort Western by Governor Shirley when it was built, and after the war he settled down, receiving a large grant on the east side of the Kennebec. This property he increased by purchase from time to time, and on the incorporation of Hallowell he was elected one of the first board of selectmen. The Howard family were the first regular traders in the new settlement; as early as i 763 James Howard was licensed to sell tea and coffee, and in 1765 his son, Samuel Howard, was in command of a trading sloop plying between Gush- noc and Boston. The rough state of the surrounding country as late as 1776 is shown by the vote passed in that year by the town of Winthrop, that there be paid to Rev. Mr. Shaw four shillings which he OLD FORT HOUSE. THETOLD 5E~OND MEETING HOUSE. AUGUSTA, THE CAPITAL OF MAINE. 97 paid for a pilot through the woods when he went there to conduct services. In the fall of 1775 Benedict Arnold came up to Fort Western on his ex- pedition against Quebec. He estab- lished his headquarters at James Howards, and remained there eight days. Capt. Daniel Morgan of Vir- ginia commanded the riflemen of this expedition; Capt. Henry Dearborn, who was afterwards Secretary of War, commanded a company; and Aaron Burr, then a young man, was a volun- teer. The dis- astrous end of this expe- dition is told n history, and has noth- ingto do with Augusta. While there were un- doubtedly a number o Tory sympa- thizers in the neighbor- hood at the time of the Revolu- tionary War, the town of Hallo- well took its part in the military or- ganization recommended by the Pro-- visional Congress, and in 1776 sent a draft of men to join the Continental army. In 1777 the town seems to have been in a bad way, for we read that it voted to stop for the time being the raising of any money for preach- ing or other uses, but voted to im- prove its roads by one days work laid upon the polls, and eighty days upon the estates. Aniong those whose estates were declared forfeit by the law of i778, as absentee Tories, we find the names of Sylvester Gardiner, Benjamin and Robert Hallowell, and William and John Vassal. These men were among the most important of the first settlers, as is well evidenced by their names having been given to the towns of Gardiner, Hallowell and Vassalbor- ough. Owing to the laws delay and by the intervention of the signing of the provisional articles of peace at Paris, November 30, 1782, these estates were not actually confiscated, as the sixth article provided that there should be no future confiscations made; and as these cases were still pending at that date and this article was held to be a stay to the pro- ceedings, the estates were retained by their owners. Duringthe twenty years between the Revolution- ary War and the separa- tion of Au- gusta from Hall o xv e 11, the settle- ment pros- pered. The tirst meet- i n g-h o u s e was erected in 1782, and money was voted from time to time to procure preaching. In 1784 a census showed the population to be six hundred and eighty-two; but the settlement was still very much in the rough, for of the thirty-eight houses in town, only twenty were reported as being anyways comfortable or con- venient. Among the names of the new settlers during this period we find those of Samuel and Daniel Cony and Seth and Asa Williams, whose families have since that time been foremost in the affairs of the place. Separation from Massachusetts was a prominent subject of argument at this time; but the establishment of courts at Pownalborough and Hallo- well tended to allay the excitement and to render the people of Maine more content with the existing condi TIlE WILLIAMS MANSION. 198 AUGUSTA, THE CAPITAL OF MAINE. tion of things. At various times the town sent a representative to the eneral Court at Boston, hut some- times it was too poor to be able to afford this luxury and remained un- represented. In 1790 there were two well settled villages in the town of Hallowell, one called The Fort, around Fort West- ern, and the other The Hook, which is the present Hallowell, two miles down the river. In this year also another well known name appears for the first time, when James Bridge was elected town agent. By this time the town had grown to a considerable ex- tent, and two or three ventures were made in the publishing of news- papers, only one of which, the Kcnuicbec In- tclligenccr, lasted more than one year. The fight between the two villages of The Fort and The Hook in regard to the building of a bridge across the Ken- nebec came before the legislature in 1796. Daniel Cony and James Bridge, both of The Fort, were then in office as senator and representa- tive respectively, so that The Hook was some- what handicapped at the start. After a bitter com test the legislative coni mittee decided, in view of the fact that The Fort was at the head of naviga- tion on the river, that the bridge should be built there, and not at the lower point. Although it is hardly probable that any- one realized it at the time, this decision was the turn- ing point in the fate of the two villages. Owing to the better communication with the rest of the country on the east of the river the village of The Fort has grown apace, and has now com- pletely overshadowed The Hook. The termination of the contest for the bridge brought to a crisis the feeling of ~he Hook against The Fort; and the town of Hallowell was in 1797 divided by act of the legislature. The charter of incorporation was granted to the new town February 20, 1797, under the name of Harrington; but the name did not prove acceptable to the townspeople, and in June of the same year, on petition to the legislature, the name was changed to Augusta. Augusta at its incorporation con- THE HOME OF JAMES G. BLAINE. AUGUSTA, THE CAPITAL OF MAINE. 99 tamed about two-thirds of the terri- tory, about half the population, and about half the valuation of the old town of Hallowell. The building of the bridge was completed in 1797, and from that time the business of the new town steadily increased. Hallowell still held most of the trade with the district to the west, but nearly all the business from the eastern side of the river came to Augusta. The latter town did a considerable shipping busi- ness, and during the War of 1812 and for a few years preceding that war, she suffered more than her parent and rival from de- pression of trade. The first meeting-house in town was built in 1782, before the incorporation of Augusta. There was a good deal of dis- pute as to the location of this building, and after considering the matter for two or three years the town voted in 1781 to reconsider all the votes that ever have been passed in this town in respect to building a meeting- house, and to begin all anew,which was certainly comprehensive. The house stood on what is now Market Square in Augusta. It was nothing but a rectangular barn, with a small porch. Early in the present century the town had completely outgrown the accommodations of the old meeting- house, and in 1809 the second building was erected on the edge of the steep hill overhanging the business part of the city, on the site where the third build- ing now stands. The old first meet- ing-house was taken down in i8io, as it had then become an obstruction on Water Street, in which it partly stood, and the materials were used to build a town-house on Winthrop Street. The second meeting-house, of which a view is given, was struck by lightning and burned to the ground in 1864. The present granite church was built on the same site in the following year. During the years of prosperity at the beginning of the century, besides the second meeting-house just mentioned, Augusta built her first grammar school, a new court house, and a new stone jail, to replace the old one burned in i8o8. The Augusta bank, which was the first established by Augusta capital and under Augusta management, was started in 1814, with Judge James Bridge as president. After his death in 1824, this office was held successively by Daniel Williams, Thomas W. Smith and Samuel Cony, the latter being in office when the bank surrendered its charter in 1864. The Cony Female Academy was built by Judge Daniel Cony in 1815, and endowed by him for the free in- struction of such orphans and other females under sixteen years of age as should be found worthy. This acad- emy continued its useful career until 1857, although in 1844 its needs re- quired the purchase of a new building. COURT HOUSE. THE JAIL. 200 AUGUSTA, THE CAPITAL OF MAINE. When the present High School was built a few years ago on the same site, the old building was moved down the hill near to the bridge, and is now used as a cabinet-makers shop and harness store. The first Kennebec bridge fell on the morning of Sunday, June 23, i8i6, and a second bridge, covered, was built in i8i8. This bridge was burned in 1827, when a third bridge, also covered, was erected. The third bridge lasted till half a dozen years ago, when it was removed to make way for the pres- ent steel structure. Upon the sep- aration of Maine from Massachu- setts, Daniel Cony, Joshua Gage and James Bridge were elected delegates from A u g u s t a to the conven- tion at Portland to frame a constitution for the new state. This constitution was approved by the people in December, 1819; and by the Act of Congress of March 3, 1820, the state of M me was admitted to the Union from and after the fifteenth day of that month. The first number of the Kennebec Journal was published on January 8, 1825, the proprietors being Messrs. Eaton & Severance. In 1831 the Democratic newspaper, The Age, was MAINE CENIKAL RAILROAD BRIDGE. THE WATER FRONT. AUGUSTA, THE CAPITAL OF MAINE. 201 started; and in 1833 the Journal was enlarged in order to cope with its rival. Passing throngh various hands, the Kennebec Journal came eventu- ally into the proprietorship of James C. Blame and John L. Stevens, late minister to Hawaii. Mr. Blame gave it np in I857, and after being owned by several other people the paper was purchased in i868 by Messrs. Spragne, Owen Nash, who in I87o suc- cessfully issned it as a daily paper. It is now owned by Messrs. Bur- leigh Flynt, and is one of the best daily pa- pers in the state. In 1827 the legislature, then meet- ing in Portland, after a committee (appointed in 1822) had visited and reported upon Portland, Brunswick, Hallowell, Augusta, Waterville, Bel- fast and Wiscasset, and after years of debate, decided upon Augusta as the seat of government for the state of Maine. In the same year Congress authorized the construction of an arsenal at Augusta, and Kennebec Arsenal was built in the following year. The buildings of the Arsenal are of granite, and stand to-day as they were originally erected. Major John R. Maginnis, of the U. S. Ordnance Corps, is the present commandant. The present Court House was built in 1829, of granite, the front having an arcade, the square pillars of which sup- port the more slender columns of the gallery above. The Court House was enlarged a few years ago, to meet the growing needs of the county. The corner stone of the new State House designed by Charles Bulfinch, the architect of the State House at Bos- ton, was laid in the same year, and the legislature met within its walls for the first time in 1832. The situation of POST OFFiCE. the capitol was certainly well chosen. It stands on a knoll between the old Hallowell road and the new or river road, facing the east. Situated at the extreme south of the town, it overlooks almost the whole of Augusta. Away to the north stretches the Kennebec, until it is lost not far above the dam behind the bluffs forming the west bank at that point. Covering both banks of the river is the town itself, the houses being for the most part veiled by the magnificent old trees which are HIGH SCHOOL. 202 AUGUSTA, THE CAPITAL OF MAINE. plentiful throughout her streets. Directly to the east, across the river, are the Arsenal and the Insane Asylum; and to the south the view extends down the river to Hallowell, Gard- iner and the lower Kennebec valley. To the west the capitol is backed by a round and well wooded hill, which in the au- tumn is one mass of glowing color. In the course of years the State House was found to be too small for the increasing requirements of the legislature, and in 1889 a large addition was RESIDENCE OF made by throwing out a wing to the rear. The architecture of THE KENNEBEC DAM. the new part is in perfect keeping with that of the old, and the addi- tion has much improved the ap- pearance of the building. Undoubtedly the most import- ant improvement in the history of Augusta was the building of the dam across the Kennebec. The Dam Company was incorporated in 1834, but owing to the unfavor- able report of an engineer the scheme languished and came near being abandoned. In January, 1835, however, the corporation took another start, and the four men who then composed it set to work to carry the project through. All the other incorpo- rators had dropped out, and Daniel Williams, Edmund T., James and Horatio Bridge were th energetic men who still held to their intention of erecting the dam. Reuel Williams came in soon after, and a plan was made by the new engineer, Col. William l3oardman, of Nashua, N. H. Immediately after the making of this plan, the shares of the company began to go up, and enthusiasm re- vived. In the same year the construction of the dam was begun, and was THE BANGS FACTORY. HON. JOSEPH H. MANLEY. 203 AUGUSTA, THE CAPITAL OF MAINE. continued through 1836 and 1837, with James Bridge as agent. The dam was completed and the lock formally opened, October 12, 1837. Luther Severance, at that time editor of the Kennebec Journal, and after- wards the first United States minister to the Sandwich Islands, was one of the first to see the possibility of a dam, and was one of the strongest support- ers of the scheme from its very incep- tion. At the banquet given after the completion of the dam, in honor of Colonel Boardman, the engineer, one of the toasts, given by Gen. Rufus C. Vose, was Old Kennebec, its per- s verance, its dams, and its Bridges ! Up to this time the water power of Augusta had been derived from the little Bonds Brook, on the banks of which the saw, fulling and grist mills of the town were situated. It was about this time that the first systematic efforts were made to utilize the granite that lay in such profusion around Augusta and Hallowell. The State House was built of Hallowell granite, but it was not for several years that granite quarrying was developed to any extent. About 1836, however, many companies were organized, and the granite business continues to this day one of the chief industries of Augusta. The Hallowell granite is well known in the East, and among other large buildings built of it are the Equitable Building, and the new fifteen-story American Surety Com- pany Building, both on Broadway, New York. The Granite Bank was organized in the year last mentioned, and is the oldest of the banks now doing business in Augusta. In the spring of 1839 a freshet oc- curred, which practically ruined those who had put their fortunes into the construction of the dam. During the year which had elapsed since the com- pletion of the work, ten saw mills had been contracted for, and a canal and basin had been built for their accom- modation. Some of the mills had also been erected, and prospects were bright. But disaster was at hand. LOOI(ING UP THE KENNEBEC. THE ARSENAL AT THE EIGHT. 204 AUGUSTA, THE CAPITAL OF MAINE. On May 30, 1839, came a freshet of unusual height, and the water made its way through the west xvall of the dam, which had been damaged by a freshet in January of the same year, and burst in all its fury into the canal on the west bank of the river. The bank wall of the canal gave way under the strain, carrying with it the newly erected mills. So great was the freshet that the water undermined the bank of the river, and the mansions of Judge Bridge and Edmund T. Bridge fell into the roaring torrent and were washed away. The river had cut out a new channel for itself around the western end of the dam, and in doing so had swept away no less than seven acres of land. When the flood sub- sided the dam was left high and dry and, with the exception of its western end, practically uninjured. From this crushing blow the citizens of Augusta rallied nobly, and in 1840 the dam was extended across the river to the new western bank. Saw mills were erected, and in 18456 the first cotton mill was built. The population of the town in 1840 was 5,314, and after the starting of the new mills it in- creased at a still more rapid rate. Steamers were now running regu- larly on the Kennebec, and the com- petition between the rival lines from Augusta to Boston was very keen. At one time as many as five steamers from Boston were lying at the Augusta wharves. The fare to Boston was put down to fifty cents, but, notwithstand- ing this, one steamer came out at the end of the season of 1845 with a clear profit of nearly ten thousand dollars. The river was dredged between Augusta and Gardiner in order to per- mit the passage of steamers at any stage of the tide, and for this purpose the town voted to tax itself to the extent of $10,000. One of the three Presidents of the United States who visited Augusta (the other two being Grant and Harri- son) was President Polk, who came there in the summer of 1847. He arrived by the steamer Huntress at Hallowell, landing there about one oclock on the morning of Saturday, July 3, and, together with the com- mittee appointed to receive him, drove to Augusta in carriages. The Presi- dents arrival in Hallowell was an- nounced by the firing of a gun, and cannon and the ringing of all the bells in town welcomed him to the capital of the state. The town had been illuminated all the evening, and the appearance of it when the President entered was most festive. A torch- light procession escorted him through the town to the house of Hon. Renel Williams on Cony Street, where he and several of his friends spent the re- mainder of the night. In the morn- PUBLIC LIBRARY. AUGUSTA, THE CAPITAL OF MAINE. 205 ing he held an informal reception on the lawn south of Mr. Williamss house, and then drove in an open barouche, escorted by a formal procession, to the State House, where he made a speech from the balcony and afterwards had a great number of the citizens presented to him. Among the gentlemen who accompanied the President on this visit was James Buchanan, then Secre- tary of State. After midday dinner the President drove to Gardiner, where he stopped for a short time at the house of Robert Hallowell Gardiner, taking the steamer for Portland in the early evening. In 1849 Augusta became a city, and Gen. Alfred Redington was elected her first mayor. The population in the next year was 8,232, and the valuation of the city was $2,337,138. The Port- land & Kennebec Railroad, the con- struction of which was begun in 1847, was completed to Augusta by 1851, and great rejoicings greeted the arrival of the first train on the 29th of Decem- ber of that year. In I857 a railroad was completed to Skowbegan; and soon after the railroad to Bangor was finished. At the outbreak of the Civil War, the city was connected by rail- road with Portland on the one hand, and with Skowbegan and Bangor on the other; she had steamers plying direct between her wharves and Bos ton; her dam provided water power for a large cotton mill, some half a dozen saw mills, a grist mill with six sets of stones, and one or two other mills; her business was in good condition; and her material prosperity was every day increasing. Immediately upon the declaration of war, the legislature authorized the rais- ing of ten thousand volunteers, and Henry G. Staples was appointed to organize a company in Augusta. This company was fully recruited with- in two days, and a second company was raised by Moses B. Lakeman in a similarly short time. Six weeks later, on June 5, i86i, these two companies, with the Hallowell company, went to Washington on active service. It is not necessary here to give the history of Augusta during the war. That she acquitted herself with honor may be gathered from the fact that by August, 1862, she had sent out more than four hundred men out of a total of sixteen hundred in her limits between the ages of seventeen and fifty years. In September, 1865, occurred Au- gustas great fire, by which almost the whole of her principal business street was destroyed. Eighty-one buildings were completely burned. The Post Office, two hotels, every bank, lawyers office, dry goods store, shoe store and clothing store in the city THE CAPITOL. 206 AUGUSTA, THE CAPITAL OF MAINE. were destroyed, and the total loss was half a million dollars. In the next year most of the burned buildings were re- placed, generally by stone or brick structures.. The appearance of Water Street, which is the main busi- ness street of the city, was greatly im- proved by the class of buildings erected after the fire, and the character of the street has steadily iniproved, until at the present time there is but one wooden building in the main part of it, all the others being of brick or stone, and three stories or more in height. Augusta at the present day has spread out her wings over the steep banks of the Kennebec, and the heart of the city is Water Street, lying par- allel with the river, close to the western bank. Several streets, all very steep, lead westward to the upper part of the town, where the majority of the citizens have their houses. To the north, still on the west side of the river, lies the French colony, on the slope of Gush- noc ileights; and across the river on the east bank, scattered over the still steep but more gradually rising hills, are a large number of houses, the Arsenal and the Insane Hospital. In common parlance, Augusta is divided into four parts, viz., The Street, The Hill, Frenchtown and The East Side. Water Street is undoubtedly one of the finest business streets to be found in a city of the size of Au- gusta. The solid brick and stone blocks on both sides of the long street are occupied on their lower floors by stores and shops, and in the upper parts by offices, ______ halls, etc. The reg~tilarity and sub - stantial nature of these buildings give a well-to-do air and businesslike aspect to the street. At the south end of Water Street are the old Kennebcc Journal office, the new Masonic Tem- ple, the Post Office and the Opera House. The Masonic Temple was erected a year ago, and has added much to the beauty of the street at that point. It is a handsome red brick block, the first floor of which is occu- pied by large stores. Half of the second floor is taken up by the Abnaki Club, a flourishing social club which recently came into existence. The EPISCOPAL CHURCH. UNIVERSALIST CHURCH. AUGUSTA, THE CAPITAL OF MAINE. 207 upper floors are devoted to the fine Masonic rooms. The old Granite Hall, which stood at the corner of iViarket Square, on the site of the present Opera House, was burned to the ground in the winter of 1890, and the following spring opera- tions were begun on the erection of the present building. The Opera House is one of the best, if not the very best, in Maine; the interior is decorated in white and gold. The Post Office, which stands on the water side of the street, opposite the Opera House, is a fine structure of granite. It was built during the term of office of Hon. Joseph H. Manley, and is a credit to the town. A thing to note in connection with the business of the Augusta Post Office is the fact that Augusta stands seventh of the cities in the United States in the amount of mail matter transmitted, being surpassed only by New York, Chicago, St. Louis, Phila- delphia, Boston and Cincinnati. It would at first sight appear very strange that a city of twelve thousand inhabi- tants should take such a high place in the tables of tonnage of mail matter sent out. But one of the principal businesses of Augusta is the publishing of family papers, so called. The late Mr. B. C. Allen was one of the first to take up this business and to introduce it into the city. He was a man of great energy and industry, and by his own exertions created a business in his particular line which was unparalleled. Since his start in business other firms have taken up the family paper, and have also been successful. The prin- cipal firms now publishing these papers in Augusta are the Gannett & Morse Concern, and Messrs. Vickerv~ & Hill. There are one or two other smaller publishing firms in the city, but these two do by far the largest share of the business. It is in consequence of the business of these publishing houses that from ten to fourteen tons of second-class mail matter is shipped from Augusta every day. Every morning an empty mail car is put on the siding just below the station, and every night the mail train stops long enough for the engine to run down auct pick up the same car, now filled with mail. This publishing business gives em COBBOSSEE GREAT POND. 208 AUGUSTA, THE CAPITAL OF IVEAINE. ployment to a large number of people, the majority of the hands being girls, who are engaged in folding and pre- paring the papers for mailing, etc. The Vickery & Hill Company occupies a large building on the hill, and has just put in, in addition to the old presses, a new three-decker press, capable of turning out some five thousand twenty-four page papers per hour. The Gannett & Morse Concern have their place of business on the East Side, near the river. A few months ago they had the misfortune to have one of their buildings burned, but with the enthusiastic help of their employees they were able to get off their publica- tions with only a few hours delay. A new building was erected within a week, and other and more permanent ones will be put up in the spring. In the upper floors of the Post Office building i~ the Pension Depart- ment. On the fourth day of each March, june, Sep- tember and December these offices are crowded to overflowing with vet erans, each patiently wait- ing for his small share of the $750,000 which is paid out at this office every quarter. The sight of these old veterans of the Civil War brings freshly to mind the thought of what they have gone through for their coun- trys sake, and even the most unpatriotic cannot but be af- fected by the sight. As they throng in and out of the government building, and gather in groups at the banks of the city, or in its shops and stores, the thoughtful of the present generation cannot help experiencing a deep feel- ing of thankfulness that the lines are cast unto them in pleasanter places than they were to the generation of thirty years ago. Next to the Post Office is the slope leading down to the Kennebec & Bos- ton Steamboat wharf; and on the other side of Water Street is Market Square, where in the xvinter the heavy sleds from the surrounding country dis- tricts gather with their loads of fir boughs, hay or cord-wood, waiting for customers. In the summer the square is filled every morning with the farm- ers wagons, loaded with all the produce of the farms and gardens. Here, too, the travelling fakir takes his stand and discourses to the crowd gathered around him on the all-power- ful virtue of the particular balsam which he has for sale, or invites the strong men in the crowd to try their strength of swing with the sledge on his machine with the lofty scale and sliding indicator. On the self same spot now occupied by the Italian wo- man with her little cage of birds, be- seeching every passer-by to have his fortune told, stQod at the beginning of the century the first meeting-house of Augusta. Those were the days when NEW CITY HALL. UNITARIAN CHURCH. AUGUSTA, THE CAPITAL OF MAINE. 209 one had to go to church or run the risk of being publicly reprimanded by the constituted authorities for the neglect, and when our modern fakir might have been ducked as a quack or put in the stocks as an idler; the little Italian woman in still earlier days might have been hanged as a witch. From Market Square to the bridge is the busiest part of Water Street. Among the many fine buildings, the newest one, which stands out as the handsomest and best, is a commodious block, with a marble and granite pillared front, built recently by Mr. 119. 0. Vickery. There is an appearance of prosperity about Water Street which is always most encouraging. Even in the bad year of 1893, when the most depressing reports were coming from every part of the country, a look at Water Street cheered one up and seemed to show that here, at least, things were in a prosperous condi- tion. Whether it was from the canny conservatism of the Maine merchants in their methods of doing business, or from some other reason, true it is that Maine generally, and Augusta in par- ticular, suffered less from the bad times than any other part of the country. From the bridge northward Water Street winds its way toward French- town, under the bridge carrying the Maine Central Railroads main line to Bangor, and passing by the gigantic cotton mills of the Edwards Manu- facturing Company. Just before reaching the Edwards Mill a road turns off to the left, and going west- xvard threads the valley of Bonds Brook. It was on this brook that some of the earliest mills were built; and there are still one or two on the lower part of it. This little valley is one of the most picturesque places in the city, and it is hard to say when it is most beautiful, in the early summer, when the woods cover- ing its sides are in their freshest green; in the fall, when these same trees are ruddy with all the thousand tints of that most lovely season, or in the winter, when the snow covers the ground and the only green things to be seen are the tall fir trees stand- ing in sol e m n groups around the mill p o n d s, and when the course of the stream can be traced only by the ice upon it. Going back to Market Square, and climbing the old Jail Hill, now known as Winthrop Street, we pass the end of the Maine Central passenger sta- tion, and at the top of the hill reach State Street, the chief avenue on the plateau lying parallel with the river on the west. At one corner is the new Lithgow Library, recently opened as a public library. The building is of granite, gray, rough hewn, and the roof is of red tile. The combination of color gives the building a striking appearance. In the library have been placed a number of beautiful stained o4ass windows, commemorative and THE NEW BUILDINGS. 210 AUGUSTA, THE CAPITAL OF MAINE. illustrative of prominent incidents in the early history of the town, which are likely to be of permanent value. On the corner diagonally opposite is the Court House, and next to it stands the jail, both of granite. The latter is one of the best in Maine, and kept in perfect condition within and without. Shutting ones eyes to the heavy iron bars which guard its win- dows, it looks like anything but a prison, and altogether has a most imposing appearance. All the churches in the city are grouped on or close to State Street, half a dozen of them being within a stones throw of the new library. For half a mile up the hill to the west lies a network of streets, bordered with mag- nificent old trees, on which are the houses of the majority of the citizens of Augusta. All the houses are good; none of them are ostentatious. One of the best fea- tures of Augusta society, speaking broadly, is the moral atmosphere pervading it which precludes the idea of the rich vying with each other in out- shining their poorer neighbors. The central idea which may be gathered from the char- acter of the houses of the people is that all should live comfortably and none extravagantly. The cause of this is largely to be found in the direct or indirect influence of the many remain- ing members of the numerous old families who came here when the settlement was young, and who have lived in the town and for the town ever since. They have modified the stern Puritanism of our forefathers, and have adopted the modern comforts and luxuries, but they have aiway discountenanced extravagance and empty show. This simplicity tends to make the tone of Augusta society less conventional than that of many other cities of similar size. Augustas hos- pitality to the stranger is well known; and one has only to be a stranger and have his lot cast among her people, to find out the reality and warmth of that hospitality. Away at the south end of State Street is the house of the most dis- tinguished man who ever made his home in Augusta, the late James G. I3laine. The public life of Mr. Blame need not be touched upon here. In private life he was simplicity itself. Saddened as his last years were by the death of three of his children, in his bereavement he had the sympathy of all his fellow-townsmen. The Blame house, like most of the houses of the better class in Augusta, is not preten- tious in any way. Originally it was a good deal smaller, but the size of his THE EDWARDS COTTON MILL. SOLDIERS MONUMENT. AUGUSTA, THE CAPITAL OF MAINE. 2Ff family forced Mr. Blame to enlarge it by building an addition at the rear. In the garden south of the house Mr. Blame loved to lounge and walk. In the summer time now his grand- children may be seen there romping about with a multitude of dogs. The present members of the family are devoted to their canine friends, and when they come to Augusta bring with them everything from a ratting terrier to a mastiff. Just across the street from the Blame house is the State House. Every second xvinter this is the scene of bustle and activity, consequent upon the assembling of the biennial legisla- ture. In legislative winters every hotel in town is crowded to overflow- ing. Gaieties are continuous in the town, and Augusta people vie with their visitors in hospitality. The halls and lobbies of the capitol are thronged with members of either House, coun- cillors, officers of the state, and the ubiquitous lobbyist. The latter fig- ures most prominently, perhaps, in cases of town division. The state of Maine has not yet resolved herself into her final units, and at every session of the legislature there come up petitions for the division of some town or other and the incorporation of a new one. These battles are the most bitterly fought of the many that are waged each session; for in a town fight there are but two sides, and these are taken and held with a pugnacity and a tenacity characteristic of the Maine people when once fully roused. There is little speaking for effect in the Maine legislature. Most of the members are hard-headed business men, and the business of the state is conducted in a businesslike way. Impassioned ora- tory makes but little impression, and is somewhat discountenanced when it springs up, although a thoroughly good speech receives the most cour- teous hearing. Near the centre of the upper part of the town lies the little park, with the Soldiers Monument in its centre, a polished granite column, on a triangu lar pliuth, surmounted by a bronze figure of Fame. Descending again to Water Street, the Kennebec bridge is reached. The view, looking up the river, shows, first, the steel bridge of the Maine Central Railroad; farther up the river, on the left, is the Edwards iVilill, an immense brick building, a quarter of a mile long; still farther up is the dam, with the lock, now filled up, at the right of it; beside the lock is the pulp mill of the Cushnoc Fibre Com- pany. During the summer months the river is full of floating logs, lum- ber driving being the principal indus- try on the Kennebec. The mill of the Augusta Lumber Company, on the east bank below the bridge, is now the only saw mill in Augusta, and save the Millikens mill at Hallowell, is the lowest on the river. During the open season schooners are always being loaded at their wharf, and it is no un- common thing in the summer to see ten or a dozen lying at the wharves on the west side of the river loading or discharging cargoes of lumber, granite or coal. Close by the river bank at the east end of the bridge stands the new City Hall, now in the course of erection. The architect is Mr. John C. Spofford of Boston. The building is being erected by a corporation, from whom the city will lease it with an option of purchase at cost after ten years. In this building all the offices of the city officials will be located, thus bringing all the departments under one roof. One of the features of the new building will be a hall large enough for any state convention, so that in future Augusta can be reckoned as one of the places where large conventions can be con- veniently held. Hardly fifty yards from the new City Hall is the old main house of Fort Western, now degraded to the position of a tenement house of the lower class. The two block-houses and the palisades have long ago dis-. appeared, but the old store and dwell- ing house, with its twelve-inch timber walls, still stand in good preservation, 212 AUGUSTA, THE CAPITAL OF MAINE. a memorial of the troublous times of the early settlement. One of the most interesting houses in Augusta stands on Cony Street, at the top of the hill leading from the bridge. This is the old Williams man- sion, which was built in the first years of the century by Col. Arthur Lithgow, then sheriff of Kennebec county, and which was purchased a few years later by Hon. Renel Williams. The front of the house is toward the south, and the back toward the street. This is said to be owing to a quarrel which the builder had with Judge Cony, who had a brick house on the opposite side of the street, which also stands to the present day. In the Williams house things have been left pretty much as they were when it was first built; and the furniture and wall-papers are the delight of the antiquarian. The south parlor is octagonal, and its walls are still covered with the original paper, which was brought from England at great expense. The design of this paper represents the voyages of the redoubtable Captain Cook, and the figures on it are pictured about half life size. It was in this house that President Polk stayed when he visited Augusta in 1847 and was entertained by Mr. Williams. Not far from the Renel Williams mansion stands the present com- modious High School building. On a quiet liftle street close by is the house of Mr. James Bridge, who was one of the prime movers of the Kennebec Dam Company, and in 18367 agent for the corporation in the construction of the dam. Mr. Bridge died January 8, 1896, in the ninety-second year of his age, and prior to his death shared with Hon. James W. Bradbury, who is now nincty-three, the distinction of being one of the oldest men now living in Augusta. Mr. Bradbury gradu- ated from Bowdoin College in 1825, and was a classmate of Nathaniel I-Iawthorne and Henry W. Long- fellow. He was United States senator from Maine from 1846 to 1853, having as some of his companions in the Senate such men as Webster, Clay, Calhoun, Douglas and Cass. Oppo- site Mr. Bridges house is the old Daniel Williams mansion. Mr. Daniel Williams was a prominent man in the affairs of Augusta in the early part of the century, and his son, Gen. Seth Williams, distinguished himself in the Civil War, becoming Adjutant General under General Grant. On the road which leads from the bridge to the State Insane Hospital, known as Hospital Street, stands the home of the Hon. Joseph H. Manley, one of the most prominent politicians in Maine. Mr. Manley has twice been postmaster of Augusta. He is at present secretary of the National Republican Committee, and chairman of the Executive Committee. Just beyond, stretching down to the river, is the United States Arsenal, and still farther on is the Asylum. The main buildings of the latter are of stone, but large brick wings have been added from time to time. The grounds of the Asylum are beautifully laid out, and from them one can get the best general view of the city of Augusta. Augusta is surely a beautiful city. In the summer, when the trees which line all the streets are in full leaf, it is at its best. Through the hot weather the people take full advantage of the noble river which flows through their midst. The scenery on the Kennebec from Augusta to the sea is very fine, and a sail on the Kennebec or Sagadahoc is worth taking. At Merrymeeting Bay, where the Andros- coggin joins the Kennebec, the sheet of water has the appearance of a lake, and the outlet is hard to find. In the sumnier, too, many of the inhabitants of Augusta betake themselves to the cottages at Hammonds Grove on Lake Cobbosseecontee, some four miles away. Cobbossee Great Pond, as the lake is sometimes called, is about ten miles long, and affords fine sport for the fisherman. It is sur- rounded by woods and farms, and THE EASTER PRAISE-FIRE. 213 dotted with islands. On a number of the islands and at many points around the shores are little camps and cot- tages, and canoeing is a favorite en- 1 oyment. The principal industries of Augusta at the present time are the Edwards Cotton Mills, the pulp business of the Cushnoc Fibre Company, the sash and blind factories of Bangs Bros. and of Webber & Gage, the lumber business of the Augusta Lumber Company, the granite paving block business, and the family-paper business of the publishing firms. There are smaller factories and machine shops, all in flourishing condi- tion, and the town is steadily growing in prosperity. The business spirit of Augusta is not only conservative, but progressive. As the material welfare of the town may be said to have really begun with its separation from Hallowell and the building of the bridge across the Ken- nebec, so it is argued by the most energetic of Augustas business men can her prosperity be increased at the present time by still further and better communication with other cities and districts. A scheme is on foot to con- nect Augusta by railroad xvith Lewis- ton on the west and with Camden on the east. The proposed line would connect with the Grand Trunk Rail- way at Lewiston, and this connection would enable merchants in Augusta to get their freight from the West at a through rate. The continuation of the line to the east would tap a section of the state not now provided with railway facilities, and would bring an increase of business to Augusta. The Board of Trade has this scheme in hand, and it is probable that before another summer has passed the matter will be brought into such shape that the railroad will be an accomplished fact within a very few years. In such ways Augusta is reaching out to make her future fruitful as her past has been. THE EASTER PRAISE-FIRE. By ~71llIoll Scollard. I N the wild Saxon woodland ways of old, On Easter eve did they up heap a pyre, And, at the stroke of midnight, touch with fire The gathered fagots, till on high uprolled The mighty flame-tongues lighting wood and wold; Then rose strong voices in a prayerful choir Chanting His praises, and their deep desire To be as lambs within His sheltered fold. In fancy, down the avenues of years, As down the darkling Saxon forest aisles, The firelight flashes and the song beguiles; Hopes joyous piean thrills our eager ears, And lo! the flame that falls upon the eyes Is Faiths bright torch that lights the centuries. INVISIBLE LIGHT. Ny Pkilzp HenryWynne. I HE announcement has recently come from abroad that Professor Wilhelm Conrad Rdntgen of Wiirtzburg, in Ba-- varia, has discovered a method of photographing an ob- ject in absolute darkness, as that word is commonly used. More won- derful still, the pictures can be taken when a thick book, a board, or otlier complete obstacle to ordinary light is interposed between the object and the plate on which it is pictured. The rays which act upon the plate seem to pass directly through the obstruction, so that a coin in a tightly closed box can actually be photographed upon a plate completely enclosed in another box. This remarkable fact, which has re- peatedly been verified both in this country and abroad, has naturally aroused the liveliest interest in all quarters; but it is not by any means the only marvel, although it is perhaps the most striking isolated fact, among the results achieved by scientific study along similar lines. Indeed, it is only when considered as a step toward the better comprehension of certain great truths, now beginning dimly to be surmised, that such work as that of Rdntgen, Hertz, Tesla and others assumes its real importance. A French scientist once complained that no one could ever hope to rival Sir Isaac Newton, who discovered the law of gravitation, because there is but one universe and because it is the law of gravitation which holds the stars in their courses. But modern science has found in the study of inconceiva- bly minute motions and particles certain phenomena which it is hoped may throw some light on the cause of gravitation itself and show us how stars can attract one another though millions of miles apart. It is even possible that through such studies we may learn something of the ultimate nature of matter itself. It may never be given to any one mind to advance scientific knowledge by so gigantic a stride as did the genius of Newton; but surely it will not be owing to the lack of another universe to conquer. The elementary facts of Prof. R6nt- gens discovery are already too well known to need more than a repetition here. In ordinary photography an object, such as a coin for instance, is made visible, usually by daylight; and a por- tion of the light falling upon the coin is reflected and passes into the camera. By means of a glass lens this light is made to fall as a distinct image upon the surface of a plate coated with cer- tain chemicals which undergo a change when acted upon by light. This sensitive coating is most affected where the image is brightest, and the picture thus registers itself upon the plate. The remaining operations of developing and fixing render the plate incapable of further change by light, and the picture becomes permanent. In Professor Rdntgens new pro- cess, however, the rays from a glass tube through which electricity is pass- ing are employed, in place of daylight, to produce the required chemical action on the sensitive coating of the plate. No lens or camera is needed, the coin being merely placed between the tube and an ordinary photo- graphic plate. The coin then casts a kind of shadow on the plate; and where this invisible shadow falls the sensitive coating is less affected than elsewhere, thus impressing the picture 214 INVISIBLE LIGHT. 215 upon the plate. If the coin be not too thick, some few rays may penetrate its thinner portions and thus show not only the outline of the coin but the lettering or other design which it may bear. A pack of cards or a hoard interposed between the tube and the coin or between the coin and the plate does not cut off the shadow, as under similar circumstances a glass plate would not cut off the visible shadow cast by a coin held in the sunlight. Professor R6ntgen calls the rays which produce the photograph X- rays because so comparatively little is yet known about them, and because the symbol x is often used in mathe- matics to denote an unknown quantity or number. This name is for the present a very convenient one. The particular kind of tube used in producing the X-rays is called a Crookes tube, or Geissler tube, from the names of two scientists who were among the first to experiment with such tubes. They are also sometimes called vacuum tubes, because nearly all the air is pumped out of them. The openings are then sealed up by. melting the glass together so that the air cannot reenter. There are usually two or more wires which pass into the tube and~ around which the glass is also tightly sealed. These are to permit electricity to pass into the in- terior. Sometimes the term Geissler tube is used in speaking of tubes con- taining rarefied gases other than air. Crookes tubes are made in many different forms, but are quite often about the size and shape of a large sweet potato and have a wire enter- ing at each end. The inner ends of these wires are called electrodes. The surface where the electricity is supposed to enter is called the anode, and that where it leaves, the cathode. These two words are from the Greek, and signify up- ward way and downward way respectively. The electric current used for these experiments has a very high pressure or tension. For this reason, although a dynamo, storage battery, or ordi- nary telegraphic battery may be used, it is not connected directly with the Crookes tubes The current from the battery or dynamo is led into an induction coil where it gives rise to another current of smaller volume but of very much higher tension; and this secondary or induced current is used to generate the X-rays. Sometimes two induction coils are used. The induction coil itself is little more than two coils of wire wound around a bundle of iron rods. The wire is of course insulated; that is, covered with silk or cotton and shel- lac, or with some other suitable sub- stance, to prevent the escape of the current. The wire of the outer coil, in which the secondary current is generatedr is very much longer and thinner than that of the inner one, and is wound many more times around the bundle of iron rods called the core. There is also a little device called the interrupter, which operates some- what like the tapper of an electric bell, and which continually and very rapid- ly makes and breaks the electric con- nection with the battery. The inter- rupter is an essential part of the apparatus, however, for the secondary current is only produced at the instant the battery current stops or starts. The current sent through the coil is therefore intermittent, but it has a tension so much greater than that of the battery current that it can leap across several inches of air in a torrent of bright crackling sparks; while the battery alone cannot start a spark across even so small an air space as would be represented by the thickness of this paper. In some ways the bat- tery current may be compared to the gentle flow of water through a very large pipe, while that of the induction coil is more like the stream from a steam fire-engine. It should be un- derstood, however, that the total power of the coil is no greater than that of the battery xvhich works it; for the current of the coil is less in amount 216 IN VISIBLE LIGHT. in the same proportion that its pres- sure is greater. This may be illus- trated by considering that although the stream from the steam flre-enr~ine above referred to has a higher pres- sure, yet full as much water may pass through the pipe in xvhich the pressure is less, only provided that the pipe is large enough. The current of the induction coil, when it passes through the Grookes tube, does not produce bright crack- ling sparks as it does in the open air, but gives a soft luminous glow which spreads quietly out into the tube and which is most intense at the negative end, or cathode. This glow reminds one somewhat of the Northern Lights sometimes seen on a cold winter night. Now there seem to be several kinds of rays given out at the cathode, of which some are visible to the eye and some are not. Some of the rays even among those which are invisible them- selves, have the curious property of causing certain substances on which they fall to shine in a darkened room with a faint visible glow called fluores- cence. One of the substances which becomes strongly fluorescent in this way is the chemical called barium platino-cyanide; another is calcium sulphide, which is the basis of the so- called luminous paint; still another is glass colored green by the oxide of the rare metal uranium, and therefore called uranium glass. For this reason Crookes tubes are often made of uranium glass. It is not yet certain whether the invisible X-rays come directly from the cathode, or whether they are pro- duced in some way akin to fluores- cence, by the action of cathode rays on the walls of the tube, or on other sub- stances. At all events, the cathode rays seem to be in some way con- cerned in the matter, and the name cathodograph, xvhich has been oro- posed for pictures taken by the new process, seems therefore to be a suitable one. The X-rays are among those which have the power of producing a glow in fluorescent substances. On account of their photographic power and of their singular property of passing through various substances opaque to ordinary light, many uses for the X- rays have been suggested. A surgeon may be able, by means of a cathodo- graph, to locate a bullet or other for- eign substance embedded in the human body; and other services to medicine and surgery have been sug- gested. It is expected that cathodo- graphs may also be useful in metal- working, by revealing flaws or other inequalities; as in gun-metal for in- stance. Indeed, the number of u~es to which the new discovery may be put cannot yet be even estimated. No substance has yet been found which entirely prevents the passage of the X-rays, but some are much more transparent than others are. Paper, wood, cardboard, hard rubber, flesh and celluloid are readily traversed by the X-rays; glass, bone, and the metal aluminum less so; and lead, zinc, copper, silver and platinum are more opaque in the order given. Ow- ing to the difference in this respect between flesh and bone, the skeleton of a living human hand has been suc- cessfully cathodographed. Now what are these mysterious X-rays? To this question science can as yet return but a guarded reply; but it does not by any means follow that nothing is known about the matter. Sometimes we can learn much from the picture of an object when we can- not get a look at the object itself. Now, although we can never hope to see with our bodily eyes just what is going on about the cathode of a Crookes tube through which an elec- tric discharge is passing, yet we can form a sort of mental picture of the action by comparing it with phenom- ena which are similar to it in some respects, and which we can see. It is practically certain that the X-rays are examples of vibration and wave-motion. There are many dif IN VISIBLE LIGHT. 217 ferent kinds of wave-motion which have been carefully studied; an(.i some of the greatest advances of modern science have been made in this direction. We may therefore reasonably expect to get some aid in shaping our ideas of the X-rays by considering some of the known char- acteristics of wave-motion in general. Let us first take a case of wave-mo- tion with which almost everyone is familiar. When the wind blows across a field of grain it produces an effect xvhich, from a distance, looks much like the waves of the ocean; and these undula- tions are indeed true waves. Each ear of grain moves only backward and forward, but the combined movement of all the ears grows into waves which travel steadily across the field. If we consider only the wheat ears, how- ever, and not the stalks, these are but very thin waves. If by some means we could have a great number of such waves, one over the other, and all moving precisely together, so that each wheat ear should move exactly like the ones over it and under it as well as those to the right and the left, then we should have a very good rep- resentation of what happens among the particles of air through which a sound is passing. In this kind of wave the movement of the wheat ears or of the air particles is backward and forward in the same direction in which the sound is advancing. This is called longitudinal vibration and wave-motion, and this is the kind of motion which Professor Rontgen sup- poses to be the cause of the X-rays. The X-rays are not produced by the movement of air particles, however; but the question as to what it is that vibrates can better be answered a little later. The waves which constitute ordi- nary light are different from sound waves in being caused by vibrations which occur millions of times oftener in a second. The direction of vibra- tion is also different, being across the direction in which the light is advauc ing. In order to represent them to ourselves we may suppose a rope fastened to the ceiling of a high room. If we pull the lower end of the rope rapidly from side to side, leaving a little slack so as not to pull the rope out straight, a series of undulations or waves will run upward to the ceiling. Now if we had a great number of such ropes side by side, covering the whole ceiling, and all vibrating at once, we should have a rough illustration of light waves; each rope representing a ray of light. But here the question must be answered, What is it that vibrates to produce light, as the air vibrates to produce sound? It is a substance to which scientific men have given the name of ether. The ether is that which remains in a Crookes tube after the air is pumped out; which exists in all solid bodies, liquids and gases as water fills the pores of a sponge; and which fills the inconceivably vast spaces between the stars. We know of no way in which to get the ether out of any space or substance. Indeed, that would be somewhat like trying to squeeze the water out of a sponge while the sponge stays under water. The air we cannot see, yet we can feel it; but we can neither feel, see, hear, taste nor smell the ether itself, although we can both feel the heat and see the light which result from waves in the great ocean of ether xvhich fills the universe. Perhaps the strongest reason for believing that the ether really exists, and is not merely a convenient invention of scientists, is this: There are known to be vast spaces between the earth, sun and stars in which no air or other ordinary substance exists. Light and radiant heat have been very conclusively proved to be forms of wave-motion, and not material substances; and we can conceive of no way that waves could cross these great spaces except by the vibration of something which does exist there. This something we call the ether. 218 INVISIBLE LIGHT. There are, hoxvever, other facts, especially among those relating to electricity and magnetism, which go to prove that the ether really exists. Now when the direction of a vibra- tion is across the lines in which the waves are advancing, as in the case of the ropes above referred to, the waves are called transverse. Ordinary light and heat waves can be shown to be transverse, while sound waves are longitudinal. No waves in the ether except transverse ones have hereto- fore been discovered, although some scientists have thought longitudinal waves might exist. Professor Rdntgen, however, thinks that very probably the X-rays are pro- duced by the hitherto missing longi- tudinal waves im the ether. In science, however, it is always necessary to dis- tinguish sharply between what we know and what we feel almost certain of, and we must therefore consider the nature of the X-rays as still unsettled. We are justified, however, in firmly believing them to be due to ether waves of some kind; and until further knowledge is gained we may imagine the vibrations as taking place in the direction in which the waves are ad- vancing. It is commonly known that sound is usually brought to our ears by waves in the air. It is not so commonly known, however, that the human ear is so constituted that it can only per- ceive waves which reach it in more rapid succession than about sixteen vibrations in a second. If the xvaves come more slowly than this they are only heard as a series of separate pul- sations, or they are not heard at all. On the other hand we cannot hear vibrations more frequent than about forty thousand in a second. Some persons, however, can hear more rapid vibrations than others can, and therefore can hear shriller sound~ and again, some can hear deeper sounds than others can. It sometimes happens, therefore, that one person can plainly hear a very shrill and piercing noise, such as is made by certain insects, while another person by his side may be absolutely unable to hear it at all; and yet the hearing of the two may be precisely equal for ordinary sounds. Indeed, it is believed that certain insects can hear sounds entirely too shrill to break the silence so far as any human ear is concerned. In this sense we may properly say that there is such a thing as inaudible sound; and in a similar sense there exists what we may call invisible light. When a beam of sunlight enters a darkened room through a small open- ing and passes through a triangular piece of glass called a prism, the white sunlight is split up into a series of bril- liant colors like those of the rainbow. If a large sheet of white paper be suit- ably placid back of the prism, a beau- tiful belt of colors will be thrown on the paper. This belt is called the spectrum. At one end the spectrum shades off from a delicate violet into darkness and at the other end the last color is a rich, deep red. Between these come bands of indigo, blue, green, yellow and orange. Now if a glass vessel containing a solution of sulphate of quinine be placed in the dark space just beyond the violet, it will become fluorescent, and will glow with a pale, shimmering blue light. This shows that invisible rays of some kind are falling there; and if a photographic plate be placed at the same point it will be acted upon by these rays just as it would be by visible light. At the other end of the spectrum invisible rays are also fall- ing. Their presence can be detected by a suitable thermometer which xvill register a perceptibly higher tempera- ture in the dark space just beyond the red, than elsewhere in the immedi- ate neighborhood of the spectrum. Here, then, are two kinds of invisible rays, one found beyond the violet and called ultra-violet or actinic rays, the other beyond the red and called infra-red or obscure heat rays. IN VISIBLE LIGHT. 219 As a matter of fact, the eye can only perceive vibrations which are more frequent than about four hundred mil- lions of millions in a second and less frequent than about eight hundred millions of millions. The only reason why the invisible ultra-violet and infra-red vibrations are not just as much entitled to be called light as any others is because the former are more rapid and the latter less rapid than the limits just stated, and so our eyes are not fitted to perceive them. They therefore may be called invisible light in precisely the same sense that certain air vibrations were before spoken of as inaudible sound. Here we find a great gap between sound vibrations, xvhich must not be more frequent than forty thousand per second or we cannot hear them, and light vibrations, which must not be less frequent than four hundred tril- lions per second or we cannot see them. We have no sense fitted to perceive any of the vibrations between these limits except those few which are a little slower than light, and which we can feel as heat when we hold our hands in the sunlight or be- fore a fire. Until very recently noth- ing was known practically about these intervening waves. In 1887 and the years immediately following, however, Dr. Heinrich Hertz of the University of Bonn dis- covered that, by means of oscillating electric discharges, ether waves of fre- quency ranging from less than one hundred twenty-five per second to more than three hundred millions per second could be produced; and he de- vised an electric receiver capable of recognizing these waves. This receiver is therefore a sort of electric eye, enabling us to perceive vibrations slower than any our own eyes can see, and more rapid than any our ears can hear. The action of this receiver is closely analogous to resonance in acoustics; of which an example is given by the following very simple experiment. Let a thin tumbler be struck gently to ascertain what note it will produce. Then let this note be sung close to the glass, or struck upon a piano near by. The sound waves in the air will set the tumbler vibrating and cause it in turn to give out its own proper note, which may be heard by listening attentively after the sound of the voice or piano is suddenly stopped. The waves investigated by Pro- fessor Hertz were transverse, and showed many other striking similari- ties to those of light and heat. They could be reflected by suitable mirrors, bent aside by prisms, and converged to a focus by lenses. Prisms and lenses made of pitch, however, are more suitable than those of glass, for the Hertzian waves. Prof. Oliver J. Lodge had a lens of pitch, weighing over three hundred-weight, made for experimenting in this direction. The Hertzian waves pass readily through a stone wall, wood, glass, or other poor conductors of electricity, but, unlike the Rdntgen, seem to be stopped by all kinds of metal. Now our sight and our hearing depend upon wave-motion. So do the telephone and phonograph, as well as the microphone by whose aid we can hear the footfalls of a fly. So also do the newly-discovered X-rays. From the study of wave-motion we learn that the sun and the stars con- tain many, if not all, of the substances found in the earth; and that our whole solar system is rushing through space at a tremendous speed toward the constellation Hercules. Of the innumerable kinds of wave-motion, from the great tidal undulation which travels daily round the world to the ultra-violet waves caused by vibra- tions whose frequency is hundreds of millions of millions per second, it has been seen that there are comparatively few which we can perceive directly through our senses. From this vast unexplored territory what marvels may not science bring forth during the new century which will soon begin. MEMORIES OF BLUEMEADOW. III. MISS PHYLLIS, THE MILLINER. By Gliarlotte Lyon. HE little villages of New England many years ago, when our popula- tion was homo- geneous, con- taine(l many per- sons of original character, peculiar to a thinly settled country where individ- nal resources were called out by the exigencies of the day. The person here described was one of these, and is now remembered by a few only of the older inhabitants. Her name calls up a kindly smile of humorous recollec- tion still from those who knew her, and it seems a pity that it should be wholly lost in oblivion. Miss Phyllis Colt was a milliner. Her pastoral name was ill suited to her complicated personality, but belonged to the day when Daphnes, Chloes and Phcebes were reared side by side with Judiths, Rachels and Keren Hap- pnchs, both poesy and Scriptnre being the inspiration of parents and sponsors. Miss Phyllis, as she was always called, was, as I have said, a milliner. To the present generation, this sug- gests a fashionably dressed person presiding over the varied and often unintelligible head-gear of modem times. But in her day such airy noth- ings would have been beneath the con- tempt of a well regulated female. A bonnet then was almost a piece of real estate, lasted for many years, and was purchased with extreme caution. There were huge structures of satin and velvet reared on stiff frames heavily wired at the edge. These were supported dnring the process of construction on mas- sive blocks, which looked when huddled together on a side table like the fossil remains of bonnets. Capes, made of ribbon cut bias and joined to- gether, modestly screened the nape of the neck; while high wired bows, long plumes or wreaths surmounted the crowns. There were the straws, open worked or lapped-Leghorns and Double Dunstables, costing from five to twenty-five dollars. In those thrifty days it was no light matter to select one of these, for not only the taste of the wearer but also durability must be considered. Would it bleach well for several successive springs, and bear the alterations in shape, possible to the sewed straw but difficult to the Tuscan, myste- riously made in one unbroken piece, only to be altered by cunning snippings and joinings, carefully hidden by trimming? Even the ribbons re- appeared year after year turned and twisted to hide their faded portions, which in these extravagant days would be consigned to the rag-bag. There was no indecent haste per- mitted in the purchases made of Miss Phyllis and her contemporaries. She would readily enter at any length into the doubts and enthusiasms of the humblest customer, applying judicious flattery (an art not yet lost) and produc- ing in evidence marvellous tales of similar bornets, as she always pro- nounced the word, which had given unhoped-for satisfaction to the buyers. Nor was she at all behind the shopmen of our day in readiness to follow the changes of mind of the most fickle. She was a very Polonius in skipping nimbly to the opposite view, on occa- sion. The art of millinery by no means absorbed her genius. She combined with this avocation much culinary skill, a talent for rearing plants, a ready hand for sick nursing, and an uncanny MEMORIES OF BLUEMEADOW. 221 fondness for laying out the dead. I have a delightful recollection of the time when I was a very little girl, drbpping in upon her one afternoon for a stolen visit of a few minutes on my way home from school. I found her, unmindful of piles of belated fall work, engaged in the pleasing task of making wedding cake. It is for lVIiss Ranney, my dear, she said; and as I did not know Miss Ranney she explained that she had been teaching school at Wardxvells Ferry and was going to be married Thanksgiving day to a gentleman out west. This meant the vicinity of Buffalo, and would now be called an eastern locality. Wardwells Ferry, called in the vernacular Wordles Ferry, was an outlying district on the Blue River, from whose lovely medders our pretty village derived its name. Miss Ranney, being a literary lady, had been unequal to the composition of her wedding cake, and had, regardless of expense, ordered it, along with her bridal bonnet, of our versatile artist. Miss Phyllis, ever indulgent, baked me a little loaf in a pint basin, and I gained permission to assist (in the French sense) at the frosting. How surprising it was to see her put a few drops of vinegar into the snowy mix- tureto whiten it, my dear,and a little pounded starch to give it a gloss; to watch her expert fingers as they smoothed and shaped it with a thin old case knife, and then to see it all, eight loaves, besides my little one, set in the sun to harden. The neigh- bors broad pans were borrowed for the occasion, as Miss Phylliss supply was limited. I remember afterwards hearing my mother and some of her gossips bemoaning that it was near Christmas, and their winter bonnets, which had been long ago placed in Miss Phylliss hands for reconstruc- tion, were, like Dickenss Betsy Trot- wood, not forthcoming,and I felt like an accomplice in Miss Phylliss guilt. But her forte was conversation. The three rooms which served her as shop, kitchen, parlor and bedroom were a centre of attraction in the little country town of Bluemeadow, and, though chiefly frequented by her own sex, had a charm also for certain genial spirits of the opposite one. She had a great love for children. Their visits never bored her, and she allowed them liberty undreamed-of at home in those strait-laced days; so that a visit to Miss Phyllis was the greatest possible treat to a little girl. For many years she occupied the second story of a cheap wooden build- ing, over a barbers shop. The barber also had varied resources, and the typical pole at the door was flanked by windoxvs which contained wigs and frizettes on one side and sticks of candy, oranges, cocoanuts and squeak- ing wooden dogs and lambs on the other. The barber would leave a lathered customer in the lurch, behind an insufficient calico curtain, while he dashed out, razor in hand, to serve young customers with dainties. A steep and dark stairway led to Miss Phylliss abode above, indicated only by a modest little sign inscribed, P. Colt milliner, and an up-pointing hand. At the head of this dark stair- xvay was a short landing, from which another steep and rickety stair de- scended into queer purliens below, behind the row of shops, where rub- bish was thrown and self-sown sun- flowers and bouncing bets ran riot. This was a charming field of explora- tion to Miss Phylliss youthful visitors, the more so as it was regarded by their elders as a rather objectionable and dirty place. The landing at the top of the two stairways opened on one side upon Miss Phylliss shop, on the other side upon the workroom. The shop was fitted up in the most primitive manner. Two or three glass cases of silks, rib- bons and flowers in the centre were supported by empty barrels. There was a table upon which half a dozen stands held as many finished or sug- gestive bonnets, the latter being straws xvith a half unrolled piece of ribbon 222 MEMORIES OF BLUEMEADOW. thrown across. Two or three boxes contained straw bonnets, limp and un- attractive because unwired as yet, and various coils of straw, waiting to be sewn into shape by patient hands oii one of the wooden blocks, when chosen by a customer. There was also a chest covered with chintz and a feather cushion, which formed an attractive seat for lingering gossips, and which it was suspected was the bed by night of Miss Phyllis, if indeed she ever slept, which was not certain. This chest when opened displayed a collection of invalid straw bonnets awaiting their annual repair and bleaching. It was never empty, for, as we have seen, the versatile genius of Miss Phyllis made her unpunctual in her legitimate voca- tion, and she wa~ always hoping to catch up without success. Terrible were the trials of good ladies in April and May, compelled to go sxveltering to church Sunday after Sunday in the beaver bonnets then in vogue, because the spring head-gear was delayed in the hands of Miss Phyllis. How often was the childish messenger dispatched on Saturday for mothers long promised straw bon- net, to be met by her ever ready ex- cuses. It was in the bleach, and weather and accident had combined to frustrate its restoration. When all else failed, the unanswerable excuse, My dear, weve been a makin mourn- in, was always available. In those days of neighborly fellowship, all other needs gave way to those of bereaved households, and the failure to wear mourning was regarded almost as a token of infidelity. In fact, Miss Phylliss unpunctuality was a source of endless scolding and bemoaning on the part of village belles and matrons, and grave doubts always of whether the cap or bonnet for impending festivities would be ready in time. Opposite the shop was the work- rooni, paradise of delights, where four or five girls learning the trade sat and stitched in silence, while Miss Phylliss never-ceasing tongue went on with admonition, instruction, anecdote- most of all, anecdote. Constantly she appealed to them for confirmation with, Didnt I, girls? Wasnt it so, girls ? fortunately not waiting for the reply, not by any means readily forth- coming. For asseveration and anec- dote, alas! often partook largely of romance in their nature, and the girls, daughters of pious rural families, had consciences and took refuge in silence. At times Miss Phyllis added manty making, as she termed it, to the millinery business, and employed an artist who had learned the dressmak- ing trade. This, however, was a fitful and uncertain accompaniment, and for some reason or other the manty mak- ing was never permanent. In the workroom chiefly grew the plants, from slips obtained from will- ing friends, started in flower-pots, in broken tea-pots, mugs, anything which would hold earth, covered carefully in early stages with cracked tumblers, and always thriving, geraniums full of luxuriant leafage, monthly roses of the few kinds then extant, ever in blow, carnation pinks, beefsteak plants, fat and coarse of texture, and the first known fuchsias of my childhood, called by Miss Phyllis the ladys ear- drop, my dear. In the workroom too uprose the stove, a huge Franklin, with a broad fat pipe tapering upwards, and a place for a shining copper tea- kettle at the back. Here were stewed and brewed many dainties, and in a little tin oven before the fire were baked Miss Phylliss delicate biscuit and cookies. Sweet potatoes roasted in ashes formed a delicious and un- usual lunch for little visitors at odd hours, and the lightest and puffiest of doughnuts were fried brown in an obese sauce-pan, carefully balanced between the andirons. I can see Miss Phylliss well loved form bending over these culinary triumphs in process of creation, in her unfailing garb, a print gown drawn in at the waist and a close-fitting muslin cap of a decidedly night cap order, from which peeped in front a sandy frizette. Miss Phyllis lavished on her MEMORIES OF BLUEMEADOW. 223 own person none of the adornments which she prepared for others. To the cap and wrapper she added only a pair of scissors, which depended from her side by a tape, and a pair of silver- bowed spectacles usually pushed up over the frizette. The scissors played an important part in her discourse, being used much in her gesticulations and also in giving a peculiar snip to sc;me piece of work held half absently in hand while she narrated, at the most telling points. Miss Phylliss meals and those of the girls who learned her trade and boarded with her were truly movable feasts. Breakfast they probably had at some unknown hour; for to break- fast by candle light through a great part of the year was a cardinal virtue in those days. The only other meal was a tea dinner, partaken of at such times in the afternoon as the fluctua- tions of custom permitted. But there was a delightful closet at the back where the roof sloped low, where both girls and youthful guests might re- sort to squench their hunger, like Dick Swivellers Marchioness. Here the ever ready doughnuts, pieces of pie and cheese, with russet apples and cold baked beans, awaited emergencies, to say nothing of Miss Phylliss un- rivalled rye bread and the golden but- ter brought by farmers wives in pay- ment for goods. I must not forget Miss Phylliss cats, of which she always had two or three; large, sleek brindled Toms pre- ferred because unburdened with family cares,who stretched themselves in soft and sunny spots and repelled childish advances with dignity. Miss Phyllis had a ready tongue and a marvellous fancy. It was whispered that she was an opium eater, and prob- ably this was a fact, for she had the glassy eye and leaden hue of such victims. On no other theory can I account for the uncalled-for fabrica- tions which at once delighted and shocked her interlocutors. She was a good and conscientious woman, gener- ous and unselfish, faithful (though un punctual) to the interests of her friends. But she was a veritable Munchausen in her adventures. She constantly re- ferred vaguely to cousins and other relatives in a high walk of life and in remote places, where she had been fdted and had revelled in .adventures, niost ghastly ones, some of them. My dear, I have been laid out three times, she would say, when some strange incident of supposed death and revival therefrom thrilled us in the weekly paper. She claimed acquaint- ance with every person of renown who was on the tapis at that moment. Presidents had chucked her under the chin; the Patroon of Albany had escorted her to church. Of lovers she had had no end, and spoke with con- tempt of the men whom, like Sam Lawsons Hepsy, she might have had. Her resources in getting out of a difficulty were most fertile. No matter how inconsistent were her ac- counts, at any attempt on the part of the mischievous to entrap her she always extricated herself with dex- terity. During the Mexican war, Mrs. Pinckney, wife of a distinguished general whose husband was in the army, took board in Bluemeadow as a quiet retreat for the summer. Her eldest son, a middy at the Naval School, came to visit her, and being in a mood for fun dressed himself as a lady and, escorted by two giggling school girls, sallied out to pay visits. Miss Harrod of Baltimore~~ was in- troduced by these girls at two or three houses; and as a very deaf and rather lame lady in deep mourning and green spectacles he passed himself off on sev- eral domestic circles with much suc- cess, claiming old acquaintance. This, though forgotten in each case by the lady visited, was not doubted, though the indecent conduct of the accom- panying damsels, who giggled con- vulsively at the eccentricities of their deaf guest and companion, and the in- ability to recall the circumstances of the former meeting with her, puzzled each hostess in turn. 224 MEMORIES OF BLUEMEADOW. Finally the party were struck with the idea of going to see Miss Phyllis, and in the gloaming of a summer even- ing repaired to her ever open shop and asked for mourning collars. Miss Phyllis was obsequious to the stranger and mildly forbearing to the giddy girls who accompanied her. At last, Muss Harrod, who knew ilVliss Phylliss xveakness, attempted to draw hcr out by saying: Miss Phyllis, I am going to Marblehead to-morrow to visit at the house of a gentleman of your name, Mr. Colt. Do you happen to know him?this being a pure fabrication and random hit. Miss Phyllis fell into the trap at once. My dear, she solemnly as- severated, he is my cousin, my own cousin. Mr. Colt (skilfully avoiding mention of his first name) used to keep a splendid establishment (she meant a carriage and pair), and many a ride I have had in it. Yes, I remem- ber once when I was there, they had a house full of company; yes, Daniel Webster was there, and the governor and his lady, and they had a great din- ner. After dinner, we went out to take a ride, and the black coachman (he had helped wait on table, and I suppose he drank the heel-taps in the glasses and got rather high) tipped us all over, and, my dear, I was taken up for dead. When I came to, Daniel Webster was holding a smelling bottle to my nose, and the governors lady was supporting my head. Then with a simper: Mr. Colt of Marblehead thou~ht a great deal of me once. People thought we might make a match, but (with a toss of the head and a snip of the scissors) I never cared for matrimony (darkly); Ive seen too much of it. Next day the jesters owned their trick with much glee, and xvent~ to the houses previously visited, xvhere the flutter of Miss Harrods mysterious visit had not subsided, to declare it all a joke of Frank Pinckneys. All admitted the sell e.xcept Miss Phyllis, who was expected to be found in great confusion at her indiscretions. Not at all. All the ready wit of Falstaff was hers,though she had probably never heard of him, or if she had would certainly have claimed him as an ancestor, if not as an acquaintance. As he said to Prince Hal after the tale of Lincoln Greens and IVien in Buckram had been confounded, By the Lord, Hal, I knew you as well as he that made you ! so Miss Phyl- lis met the revelations of Frank Piuck- ney and company in a similar manner. My dear, I knew you all the time and so fell in with the joke! I told the girls it was you as soon as you went out,didnt I, girls? Silence on th~ part of the girls, as usual, unheeded by Miss Phyllis, who proceeded at once to recount fresh narratives of tricks which had been played upon her and which she had triumphantly met. Miss Phyllis, in the days of my earliest recollections, had a pew in the Episcopal church, of which she was a staunch adherent, and occasionally appeared there rather late and wearing one of the shop bonnets; for she made good the proverb about shoemakers, and never had a bonnet of her own. What a fine thing it seemed to me then to have full swing among the milli- nery, and to appear one Sunday in a chip trimmed with blue, and on the next in a sweet yellow gauze with high wired bows of green ribbon in the fashion of the day. Whether the sale of these splendors was impaired by a single church going I cannot tell. I regarded the transaction from an aesthetic rather than a mercantile point of view. But as years went on Miss Phyllis gave up her religious observance, and passed her Sundays in what she called clearing up and making out her bills, which were somewhat incorrect and noted for sins of omission rather than over-charging. To this, I suppose, she owed the disaster xvhich finally overtook her, when she went into bankruptcy after the thirty years that she was queen of fashion and xvithout a competitor in the village. Her peace was invaded towards the close of her career by a rival milliners MEMORIES OF BLUEMEADOW. 225 shop, kept by Miss Fletcher, a slim, genteel person, many, many years the junior of Miss Phyllis, but whom she always stigmatized as old mother Fletcher. Miss Fletcher, alas! was more expert in accounts, more ready in producing new fashions, more punc- tual too, and Miss Phylliss custom declined, though as a conversationalist she was still unrivalled. Look at this lace, my dear, she xvould say; it is a new kind, the dentella, my dear (the box bore the French mark dentelle). When Miss Fletcher produced new shapes with a large flat crown, Miss Phyllis, who was a little behind the fashions, pronounced them too per- spicious for good taste. Anything 1)urchased in New York or Boston ex- cited her contempt and displeasure. A Bermoada straw, my dear (when Bermuda braids were rare and beauti- ful). I have had thousands of them, and had to sew them all up into mens hats. No one would wear them. They are up garret now. In fact Miss Phylliss garret was supposed to contain untold treasures. She con- stantly referred to it as containing temporary deposits of value; and when a bride came to the village with a rather swell trousseau for the day, Miss Phyllis assured her best in- formed customers that she had up garret six trunks of IlVlirs. wedding clothes which had never been opened! How charming it was for me as a child to spend the afternoon with her, to listen to the interviews with cus- tomers, gentle and simple, to each of whom she skilfully adapted her anec- dotes and compliments; to be allowed to trim a bonnet myself, using one of the straws awaiting repairs and a roll of unsalable ribbon, with only the re- straint that I must not cut the latter; to partake of feasts at unusual hours, mid-forenoon and afternoon; to watch Miss Phyllis as she turned and twisted material into cap or bonnet, talking always; sometimes an overdue order, while an attendant girl rapidlythreaded needles and stuck them into Miss Phylliss working pincushion, a brick, well wadded and covered with red flannel. Or in time of leisure she would construct a fancy bonnet for sale, for Miss Buy First, my dear, she would say to me in answer to my queries. She allowed me to read the Ladys Companiou, and afterwards that later magazine of fashion, Godeys Ladys Book, where tales of romance divided the interest with colored plates representing simpering females with marvellously small pointed toes peep- ing out of their skirts and triumphs of millinery on their heads. Apropos of the great bonnets and tall stiff bows of those days, a relative of mine while visiting an insane asylum in the bloom of her youth, attired in a fashionable bonnet, was there accosted by a patient, who leaned from an upper window: Oh, beauti- ful as Jerusalem and terrible as an army with banners ! The rapid changes of fashion in these days cause little excitement; but in Miss Phylliss time a new bonnet or cloak bought in BostonorNew York thrilled thewhole village. When short cloaks were first introduced into Bluemeadow by the xvife of a niember of Congress, serious doubts were expressed by the strait- laced as to the modesty of wearing an outer garment twelve inches shorter than the dress, instead of enveloping it completely as heretofore. Miss Phyllis declared emphatically against the innovation, and dissuaded a bride from copying the fashion by saying it was too much like Fannie ElIsler (the dauscuse then in her prime). ivliss Phyllis was ready in quoting scripture, especially the psalter, from her Episcopal training. When asked to look for a place for a servant who was obliged to leave her former one, owing to the pecuniary misfortunes of the family where she had lived, she readily agreed to do so, as she kept a sort of free intelligence office. She wants a place, she says, Miss Phyllis, in a real gentlemans family, said the girls spokesman. I do not blame her, my dear, was the reply. Id 226 MEMORIES OF BLUEMEADOW. rather be a door-keeper in the house of my Lord,such a man as your father, my dear,than to dwell in the tents of the ungodly. All things human must pass away, and Miss Phylliss career came to an end in time. She must have been verging on seventy years of age when she came to grief financially and went into bankruptcy. Her health failed, and with it her hitherto unfailing spirits. The demands of fashion out- stripped her resources, and her ac- counts became hopelessly entangled. Custom fell off, as her unpunctuality had to compete with the brisk method of Miss Fletcher. I remember a quixotic attempt of my girlhood to assist her in posting her books. Such books !shade of Zerah Colburn, what would you have said of them? Accompanied by Beppo, a huge and lawless setter, whose training my brothers had vainly attempted by sound beatings, much deprecated and interfered with by their sisters, I went to her shop one day; and there, un- interrupted by customers, now so few, we attacked the heaps of chaos which she called her accounts. Hardly had we begun, and a feeling of despair had just overcome me, when we were in- terrupted by a loud barking, scuffling, spitting and scrambling. Beppo had given chase to the most staid and implacable of the cats, and pursued him over tables and showcases, over- turning the small remains of millinery and the cherished plants. We retired in great disorder, with many apologies. Beppo was kicked and cuffed to the stairway, and the task abandoned. The sheriff ultimately took possession and the shop was closed. Miss Phyllis went to live with a prosperous relative in another town, where she long ago ended her days in peace. In looking back upon her character from a mature standpoint, we are im- pressed with the thought that she was a type of the old New England virtues of neighborly kindness and sympathy and of what used to be termed facultythat versatility of genius which turns the hand to whatever comes to be done. Probably even as. a milliner she was born, not made, and picked up the art of fashioning the caps and bonnets which we so admired. No doubt her fashions were too often evolved, like the German philosophers idea of a camel, out of her moral consciousness. The heaven-born quality of unselfishness, which made her so ready to give her hospitality to the casual guest and her services to the sick and dying, led to her financial wreck, but only because she lacked a certain system which is indispensable to mercantile success. Certainly she had the rich reward of affection from a large circle, and most of all from children. She was in her way a sort of Madame Recamier, and had she been a French lady of fashion, would have held a salon where wits and belles delighted to resort. In those old times, in the little village where she lived, the winter months were long and dreary, the little strip of pavement in front of shop row was the only safe footing for the pedestrian for weeks,. and the sunny, cheery shop of Miss Phyllis took the place of picture galleries, club rooms and other resorts of modern times. There people went to trade, and lingered to chat with one another and luxuriate in Miss. Phylliss narratives. She was to the simple farmers wives what Schehere- zade was to the Sultan in the Arabian Nights; and the romances which the austerities of Puritanism forbade them to read, fell unrebuked from her fluent tongue. Harmless romances they were. She never spoke ill of others, but exaggerated their virtues; and only the sharp rivalries of business could have wrung from those kindly lips the scornful mention sometimes made of Miss Fletcher. ROUND ABOUT THE WAVERLEY OAKS. By j7oshua Kendall. PHOTOGRAPHS BY B. D. B. BOURNE. EVEN miles from Boston, on the Fitchbnrg road, is the station of Waverley. Five minutes walk from the station brings one to the entrance of a basin, or valley, to the whole of which I shall apply the name of Waverley, thongh by the inhabitants of the valley that name is applied to the southern portion only, the part which lies in Belmont; the rest lies mostly in Lex- ington The en- trance or month of the valley, whence issues Beaver Brook, is narrow, not more than seventy-five rods wide. From this point, tracing the edge of the basin aronnd to the right and east, we climb the ridge occnpied by the McLean Asy- lum, to the top of Wellington Hill, at the foot of which the Belmont station is sitnated; thence to Arlington Heights; then towards East Lexington, bnt not reaching it; thence taking a southerly course, bear- ing towards the east, we pass from ridge to ridge~ till we get back to the western side of the entrance to the valley. The outline thus traced by the water- shed of this valley is an irregular one. Its greatest length, from north to sonth, is a little over three miles; its breadth varies from a half mile or less to two miles; its area may be roughly estimated as about four square miles.* * 3.9 sq. m. Report of M. M. Tidd, civil eogioeer, ii94. 227 The bonnding ridge is not made up of abrupt edges, but is mostly formed by long low hills from whose sides and tops the underlying ledges are apt to jut out. The ledges are granitic, and are generally rounded, as if ground down by planes of enormous power. There are several hills near the oaks, which by their shape, their position, and still more by their composition, as seen when dng into, indicate glacial action; they are probably moraines or else kames of ancient glaciers. When the farmers try to clear their fields of the stones which interfere with their ploughs, even they are amazed at their numbers; the labor of taking them out arid the room required to stow them away, generally make the most hardy desist from the nndertaking. Huge boulders, rough mementoes of the age of ice, When winter sole ruled here, while creeping glaciers ploughed The face of earth, and crunched and ground the solid cliffs, Had since lain strewn along the slope, a hin- drance sad To patient ploughmen, eyesore in the thrifty farmers sight, Breaking his greensward through, dulling his scythes keen edge. 228 ROUND ABOUT THE WAVERLEY OAKS. But skillful workmen now, clearing the field, have hauled Them here, and brought them into line, mak- ing a wall Which skirts the road, well faced and strong; twill last an age; No rot can weaken it, no winters frost can heave. All clean and bare the stones look now, some light, some dark; As year by year goes by, lichens will slowly dot And drape them in soft tints; beside them shrubs will grow, The barberry and the sweet wild rose; its shiny leaves The poison ivy, clambering oer it will display, The clematis its silvery floss. So Milton ranged, In rugged verse our rough-hewn English words, remains Of many a struggle long and hard; the masters touch They heeded, into line accordant fell, as once Amphions harp-strings struck, the stones obedient trooped To fill their chosen place in Thebes renowned wall. Oh, that the skill were ours, to use lifes trials so, That from them should arise a wall of char- acter, Which naught could shake, to fence the un- ruly passions out, And round it glad should fond affection closer cling, While it the lovelier grew, as rolled the years away. If you live, as I do, in a flat town, with no outlook, where the houses are not picturesque and all the lots are forty by eighty, I wish that on some pleasant day you could walk along those hills with me and look off. The valley of the Charles, with its bevy of cities, lies to the south and southeast; the sea is discernible in the distance the view extending nearly to Nahant. The valley of the Mystic lies at the east. Monadnock, Wachusett and the Un- conoonucs all greet you; and Prospect Hill near by, in Waltham, turns to you a welcome, cheery look. The idea in- trudes itself that it would say to you, if it found you a fit subject for its confi- dence: I am the maker of this fair scene, though now sadly shrunken from my youthful stature of ten thou- sand years ago. From me came the glaciers that ploughed these hills, from me the moraines; I ground down the rocks; I shaped the valley and set its streams in motion. Listen to me and I will reveal to you secrets manifold. The sides of the valley slope down, with considerable regularity, to a large fresh-water meadow so called, known as Rock Meadow. An ex- panse of waving grass here takes the place generally occupied by a sheet of rippling water. Indeed just over the broad dividing ridge to the southwest lies a basin on whose bottom rests a pond of about the same size as the meadow and forming a companion pic- ture to it. The waters of these two basins, each drained by its own brook, run together, just before crossing the main road, in the city of Waltham, and pour their united streanis into the Charles. In spring the slopes Df the valley ar~ covered with a thick matting of sweet grass, which oft-times later in the season is parched by drought and scorched by the heat. Rock Meadow, which up to that time may have been too wet and soft to walk in, is then covered by a coarse, sour, wild grass, not readily eaten by 229 ROUND ABOUT THE WAVERLEY OAKS. the cattle until their appetites have become sharpened by the keen cold of winter. Tradition says that the meadow was originally flowed in winter by the beavers damming up the brook which runs out of it, whence this brook early received the name of Beaver Brook, o which title there was an attempt made some years ago to deprive it and confer that name on the brook which inns from the pond I have mentioned. But we have Lowells testimonyand he was familiar with the whole of the regionthat it always went nnder the name of Beaver Brook, under which title it now goes. When the farmers first settled in the ~vicinity of Rock Meadow, its crop of coarse grass was a valuable addition to their crop of hay, very scanty at first, and so each tried to get a slice of it for himself; it is still parcelled out among many separate owners. Whenever their thin layer of mould is removed from the surface of these hills, as in getting gravel to repair the roads, an ugly scar is left on the other- wise uniform green of the sod, which gives one a feeling akin to that with which one views the murdered woods in Maine and New Hampshire. The flow of water in the brook is very large in spring for about six weeks; for the rest of the year the flow is generally small. From the slopes which have been stripped of their na- tive forests, as most of them have, the rain-fall slides off quickly into the central brook and runs away. Some of it, however, soaks into the ground in the hollows on the sides of the hills and comes up to the surface again, on the lower levels, as boiling springs. I know four of these bubbling springs whose waters are abundant, cold and never-failing; there must be many be- sides these. Many are found by dig- ging a little way below the surface; their waters are used in houses and in 230 ROUND ABOUT THE WAVERLEY OAKS. barns. The owner of one of these boiling springs, the Belmont, whose waters are very clear and sparkling, has cleared out its basin, run a stone curb around it, and sends daily wagon loads of the water into the city. The living springs that from the bases well Of green and rock-crowned hills that gird this vale, Or higher up in dark secluded deli, By ledges moist, where quiver aspens pale, All, fresh and pure, begin with joyous leap Their course of life; their rills soft mur- muring glide; Some trickle down the rocks; some by the side Of groves wind slowly all drawn towards the deep. In turn they fall into this brook, that runs Now, dashing on and sparkling in the suns Bright beams then as a limpid lake out- spread Reflects the eternal stars; at last between Low banks to roll with solemn flow tis seen And calmly sink to rest in oceans bed. Rock Meadow gathers the waters of this valley, and, as its outlet is dammed up during the winter, it affords an ex- cellent park for skating, and a very safe one, as its depth seldom exceeds six feet. When the ice was in good condi- tion it used to be frequented by the boys and young men of the neighbor- hood, who built large bonfires on the ice, from the wood that grew in abund- aiice on its borders; the fire served for warmth and much more as a social centre. The brook which issues from the meadow, after running for half a mile, brawling, sparkling and swift, is stopped in its course by a dam. Here, by the mill-pond, once stood a mill. This is the spot which Lowell had in mind when he wrote his delightful poem, Beaver Brook. His descrip- tion, as far as it goes, accords exactly with what the mill used to be; but now the mill itself is entirely gone. One can yet see the stones which made one of the two runs for grinding corn, still lying below the dam on the loose rocks. Across that gorge, of yore, a dam was thrown,. Where since two massive willow trees have grown; Their branches drooping oerthis colder wave, Sigh for the banks Euphrates waters lave. Swing your long branches, willows, slowly swing, The dam is broken all, And topples now its wall Just ready for a fall, ROUND ABOUT THE WAVERLEY OAKS. 231 Just there a grist-mill stood, the dam near to A stately buttonwood before it grew; Robust the miller; heavy bags of meal He once tossed lightly oer the wagon wheel. Wave your lithe branches, willows, sadly wave, For now no miller more Stands by the open door, Beneath the sycamore; Low lies he on that slope, within his peace- ful grave. A wretched ruin now, there stands the mill; Gone are its wheels and rotten is its sill; I hear no more the mill-stones pleasant hum, Nor rushing waters through the sluice-way come. Ye willows, weeping named, your tears distill; For the farmer no more, On this broken floor, Lays his golden store Of corn, and bags of rye; neglected stands the mill. Escaping from the pond, the brook inns a few rods farther, dashing over ledges in beautiful little cascades, and then is entrapped again. Here at the second pond, there once stood a saw- mill. Each of these ponds covers about two acres. Escaping a second time, the brook, when it is swollen, tumbles down over large ledges, mak- ing in one place a pretty fall and in another a very considerable cas- cade; then at a hurried pace it dashes away down the hill, crosses the road and runs off into another meadow, whither we will not now pursue it. The entrance to the vale of Waver- ley, for one who approaches it from the railroad station, is by a country road that winds up a long hill, between lux- uriant growths of red cedars, pines, ash and other trees which line the road on either side. The beauty of that winding road I cannot describe. You feel that you are in the veritable country. The hard, smooth road-bed bears you higher and higher into air that grows purer and more exhilarating at every step; you get glimpses of the blue ex- panses, and bits of the horizon; you see again your loved trees; you hear the noisy brook down below,and a brooks babbling is almost the best music in the world,and catch bright flashes from it; and then you come in sight of the two ponds, one after the other. You leave the road and wander down to the brook to see the waterfall. Should the rambler, just before entering on the winding road, choose to turn to the left and enter a pasture south of the fork of the roads, he will find himself almost under the shadow of one of the largest elms in New Eng- land. The trunk of the tree is almost a straight column, not spreading out at the roots, as in the case of most old trees, and it hardly diminishes in size for fifteen feet from the ground. I measured it in 1853, when at five feet from the ground it had a girth of nearly seventeen feet. Its larger branches And feebler flows the sap through your old arms this spring. 232 ROUATD ABOUT THE WAVERLEY OAKS. seemed, I could not measure them, over two feet thick, and they extend all round for a distance of over fifty feet. The top in 1853 was apparently uninjured, but it has been rapidly de- caying for the last ten years. The peculiar closeness with which the im- mense roots are imbedded in the ground all around the trunk is well xvorth noting. So stands some minster, built in th olden time, Its spires all fallen, rent its crumbling tower, Yet transept, nave and choir, with windows stained And filled with wondrous shapes, tempt us to pause And wander neath its arches dim, to muse On present glory, past magnificence. Before the Pilgrims landed on their rock, With thousands like it from its parent stem, A seed was wafted here. When spring-time came, Favored by sun and soil, its growth out- stripped Its mates that started with it on lifes race. The shade of older trees, or drought, the winds, Or sudden freshet, brought their end to some. Later, the settlers axe, clearing the fields, His Indian corn to plant, or sow his wheat, Laid others low; and thus its brothers fell, Till one alone was left a century old. The lightning shivered that; yet ebbed away Its life full slowly: this kept growing on As sound and strong as in its early youth. Its mighty pile was long in building up, And long and stubborn twill resist decay. Here the fond artist takes his favorite seat To sketch the tree with pencil or with brush. Wayfarers, hot and weary, turn aside To rest beneath its shade; a solemn awe Steals oer them, and they journey slower on. Waverley elm, type of eternity, How short our feeble lives com- pared with thine! Not beauty, size and strength charm me alone; Endurance more, persistence through the years, And the hard struggles thou hast conquered in, Give to my heart hope to be victor yet. A few steps farther will bring our rambler to the brook again. On crossing that he will enter the field occupied by the famous Waverley Oaks. These oaks, of the species called white oaks, are twenty-four in number. They stand scattered at irregular inter- vals over the field, a part of them on a fiat piece of land a little higher than the brook, but some of the larg- est on a long hill of a pecu- liar shape, evidently a kame of an ancient glacier. The largest of these now left standing measured in 1853, a few feet from the ground, about seven- teen feet in circumference; a girth of twenty feet could easily be got by low- ering the string and taking in the pro- jections of several huge roots. One of its branches is over fifty feet long. This tree stands on the northern slope of the kame, half way up its side. The oak which had the most regular shape, ROUND ABOUT THE WAVERLEY OAKS. 233 its arms extending out horizontally to a distance of fifty feet all aronnd, had a ronnded top after the form of an old- fashioned bee-hive. A violent gale in 1863 felled this tree, which was hollow- hearted, laying it prostrate on the gronnd. Articles have been written descrip- tive of these oaks; painters have delin- eated them on their canvases; and many visitors flock yearly to see them. Of late years notice has been repeat- edly drawn to them in the charming pages of The Land of the Lingering Snow, by that talented anthor, Mr. Frank Bolles, whose nntimely death has been so widely monrned. The Beaver Brook Reservation, lately taken by the Park Commission- ers on behalf of the state, occupies the Waverley Valley far enough up to en- close the two ponds, and, on the lower side of North Street, takes in the pas- ture in which stand the Waverley Oaks, and extends thence down to the Fitchbnrg Railroad. Fortunately few changes, it is understood, are to be made in this reservation; the corn- missioners, it would seem, aim chiefly to erase the scars on the gronnds caused by mans occupation, and to preserve the oaks, whose vitality al- ready begins to show signs of declin- ing, while they leave the natural beauties of the place nntonched. The Waverley Valley is the home of many animals. Here may yet be found the fox, the woodchuck, rabbit, mink, mnskrat, skunk, red, striped, gray and flying squirrels, the field mouse, the jumping mouse and the weasel. It would be useless for me to attempt to ennmerate the kinds of birds fonnd there; but I will say that of game birds there are still fonnd a few partridges, quail, woodcock, snipe and pigeons; of rapacious birds, the hen- hawk, sparrow-hawk and gray owl; of bright colored birds, the red-bird, scarlet tanager, gross-beak, blue-bird, blne jay, yellow-bird and oriole; of singing birds, the song sparrow, bobo- link and thrush. There are also hnm- ming birds, vireos, sand-pipers and cuckoos; peabody birds, too, for a few weeks. The streams, probably, 234 ROUND ABOUT THE WAVERLEY OAKS. 235 once abounded in trout; now horned- pouts, shiners and pickerel are nearly all that are left. There are several kinds of frogs, of tortoises and of snakes. Black snakes are by no means yet extinct; specimens five or six feet long have not been uncommon, and they are at times very fearless and glide with astonishing swiftness across the branches of the trees. Of trees, oaks, white, red and black, abound; several Kinds of walnuts and wil- lows; so also red maples, white and red ash, and white and scrub pines. I know of one red cedar twenty inches in diameter, and one tupelo of great size. Across Rock IN eadow runs a row of pol- lard willows on either side of the road and extending nearly a mile; they form a beautiful avenue for driving in the summer. Scattered pines are found throughout the valley, and within a few years a large grove of very tall pines was cut down on Mackerel Hill. The white oaks and white pines that once grew on these slopes used to be sawed into lum- ber at the saw-mill by the lower pond. Behold this pine, of those dark woods the last, That down this valley stretched in numbers vast Erect and tall their tops the blue sky cleft, Their stately trunks of branches green bereft. No more you catch their soughing, as the breeze Sweeps through the trees~ No longer now the pines, Standing in serried lines, As the setting sun de- clines, Invite you forth to walk adown their alleys green Where rabbits ,.~,ray and timid partridges are seen. Long years these slopes they covered thick with shade, Above the squirrel; here the wild deer played; But then the white man came and by the stream His saw-mill built, where waterfalls brib ht gleam. No more the red man chases here the deer With bow and spear. 236 ROUND ABOUT THE WAVERLEY OAKS. Gone is the forest tall, And shrunk the waterfall; The timid wild does call No more is heard when oer this vale the full moon shines; No stately stags sweep by, under the sighing pines. If the birds of the Waverley Valley cannot be easily enumerated, what shall we say of the flowers? Begin- ning with the andromeda and rhodora in May, there is a long succession of them, to the last blue gentian and the asters in November. Let me mention cowslips, anemones, arethusas, honey- suckles, lupines, Solomons seal, kal- mia and clethra. I should not want to tell where the mountain laurel grows, or did grow thirty years ago, as it can be preserved only,its growth here being very scanty,by being known to but few. The blue gentians, though they grew in great profusion a few years ago, are now threatened with total destruction from the ruthless pil- laging of visitors from the city. Though the supply of spring flowers seems to be ample, the right kinds do not groxv in sufficient profusion to make successful bee-culture possible. The summers are often too dry, and the fall flowers furnish but little that the bees want. They seek eagerly for the basswood, or wild linden, and it is very pleasant to sit down under these trees when in full bloom and listen to the continued buzzing of the bees. White clover, too, furnishes abundant honey. Thus is this beautiful valley, scarcely half a dozen miles away from the great city, a very paradise for the naturalist and for every lover of nature who has his eyes open. But Waverley Valley has not been solely for animals, trees, birds and flowers, but also for men and women. How many persons there are now liv- ing in the valley, I know not; but we may be sure that human nature has here shown itself in many of its usual ways,in ignorance, folly, greed, pas- sion and crime; in self-denial, too, unselfishness and love. With social institutions the people here have been connected. As there is no centre of population in the valley, no church has been estab- lished within their limits, though they have gen- erally been reck- oned as good church goers. The school house for their accom- modation was sit- uated just out of their limits. One bright woman who kept that school seventy- five years ago was of adispositionthat endeared hertoall. She had a cheerful religious nature and a taste for good literature and appre- ciation of it hardly to be expected of one whose opportunities for learning had not been ample. By elevating her home, connecting herself with the church and keeping school, she acted well her part in upholding the institu- tions of society. Great events in the outer world sent their vibrations into this valley. Parts of Lexington lie within its limits, and Concord, as well as Bunker Hill, is not far off; to the great deeds done there its sturdy farmers contributed their ROUND ABOUT THE WAVERLEY OAKS. 237 share. The Civil War also called for its quota of re- cruits, and it got them. The dis- covery of gold in California in 1849 drew off some ad- venturous spirits. A well-knit frame, com- pact and strong, The fairest mong the sons of men; Just six feet two his stature rearing, His cheeks with white and ruddy veering, Heavens hine within his eye appearing, No kinder heart Ive seen for long, Nor soon shall see, than Brother Ben. We worked, we played, slept, side hy side, Grew up, nor thought of parting then. I went to school, was mad for learning; To hooks my thoughts and fancies turning; But he, such life ignoble spurning, To far Nevadas mountains hied, Weve met not since, dear Brother Ben. Long years then passed, nor oft we heard From him who rarely touched a pen. Sometimes across the mountains walking, Or through the wondrous canyons stalking, Some homeward wanderer with thee talk- ing, Scarce reach this vale, would haste with word Or news from thee, dear Brother Ben. No more we hear; our letters sent Are all returned; but always when I hear a miner tell a story Of mining life, or of some hoary, Snow-capped peak descrihe the glory, I press to hear, if eer he went Where thou hadst been, dear Brother Ben. I hope within some corner fair Of Californias wildest glen, A giant pine tree oer thee sighing, The clouds above its tall top flying, Or screaming kite, the winds outvying, Thou sleepest on some hillside rare, If sot must be, dear Brother Ben. Well suited is the vale for the pro- duction of worthy souls, if any can xvith the proper spirit accept its train- ing. To meet with ordinary success in it, it must be confessed that one must have great energy, a strong will, and very simple habits; such conditions are imposed on all its dwellers by the scantiness of its soil and its secluded position. But Waverley Valley produces in boundless and ever changing profu- sion one great staplebeauty. The whole basin and the vault above it are filled with beauty. Syringas here in June unclose Their blossoms sweet; the fragrant rose, Both white and red, its beauty shows. See through the grass a maiden tripping, Where down the run the hrook is slipping, In which the boys their feet are dipping. Adown the air on fluttering wings, So full of joy his heart oerbrims, And all his soul in music swims, The hoholink slow-sliding sings. Would he in joy surpass the flowers, That in these happy spring-time hours The sun through all the valley showers? Than hright green grass in waving sea, Far-stretching here oer hill and lea, What fairer thing can ever be? Its tips a purple bloom just flushes, Across a clouds faint shadow rushes, While purest joy from all things gushes. Oh, heauty poured for all so free, Oer sky and land, oer rock and tree, Gods grandest gift, it seems to me, Within this vale of Waverley! How can you so neglected be Or praised oft so charily! As thus in rock and tree youre hiding Mong spirits blest youre sure ahiding, Or in Gods sacred heart residing. 233 / / THE SANDEMANIANS. By George Watson Hallock. OBERT SAN- DEMAN, a dissenting C o n g r e g a- t i o n a 1 ;i s t preacher, and fonnder of the religious sect known as the Sandema n ans, came to America from Perth, Scotland, in 1764. He was past the middle age, but full of zeal; and he at once began to gather about him the nucleus of what at one time promised to become one of the prominent religious denominations of the country. He was ambitions, but not ostentatious or obtrusive. Com- bined with much learning, superior ability and a thorough knowledge of his special subjects, he possessed marked determination and fixedness of purpose. It was not long before he had a band of enthusiastic followers who gave liberally of both time and money to spread the truth as preached by their revered leader. Sandeman had left Scotland because he believed the New World offered a better field for the promulgation of his doctrine than the Old World. It has been said that persecution drove him from his native land; but neither his- tory nor careful research in his volu- minous correspondence reveals any evidence of this. Those most familiar xvith his life are confident that he came because he chose to do Gods work in the most promising field. The people who came to worship in his simple yet peculiar manner came to be known as Sandemanians, although Robert Sandeman was by no means the author of the creed. He was a disciple of John Glas, of Dundee, Scotland, whose daughter Kate be- came his wife. In Scotland the churches of the faith preached by John Glas were called Churches of Christ. The creed extended into England. where the adherents showed such activity in spreading it that the Chris- tians of all creeds were struck with consternation. It was the desire of the elders and members of the Church of Christ to be known to the world as Disciples; but in this they failed. So JOHN GLAS. much of John Glass individuality had been imparted to the new religion, and so great was his personal infiuence~ that it was only a comparatively short time before his followers were called Glasites. That appellation, bestowed originally in contempt and derision, has clung to them almost a century and a half, and will cling to them in Eng- land and Scotland so long as one of them remains. 239 240 THE SANDEMANIANS. Robert Sandeman was one of John Glass most faithful and efficient workers prior to 1764. Dissensions arose so frequently in the various churches, and so much bitter- ness was engendered among the leaders, that Robert Sandeman became heartsick. He despaired of accomplish- ing in Great Britain the good he hoped to accomplish, and in response to the urgent entreaties of a number of gentlemen in Boston, Dan- bury, Conn., and Portsmouth, N. H., who had read John Glass and his own numerous books on the new religion, he embarked for America. It is sincerely to be regretted that so little is known of his movements in this country. The Sandemanians believed that no action of any kind should be subject to human influences or con- siderations; hence they left few if any records. Such mention as is made of Robert Sandeman and his creed by historians and biographers is conceded to be often misleading and sometimes erroneous. It is known, however, that he arrived in Boston in the sum- mer of 1764. He spent several months in planning for his future life- work and in corresponding with the gentlemen at whose solicitation he had come. In the fall of that year he pro- ceeded to Danbury, with the intention of forming a church there. He was warmly welcomed by Joseph Moss White, Ebenezer White, Ebenezer Russell White, and several others who had become interested. But he thought the time was not ripe and re- turned to Boston. He organized a church in Boston, but not until he had established churches at Portsmouth and Danbury. James Cargill, of Perth, Scotland, an elder, had accom- panied Mr. Sandeman to assist him in his work. It was one of the tenets of their faith that there should be no clergymen, but that each church should be presided over by two elders. Elders Sandeman and Cargill went to Portsmouth, N. H., where, on May 4, 1765, a church was formed with six- teen male and nine female members. This was the first Church of Christ, or Sandemanian church, organized in America. Soon afterwards the two elders returned to Danbury, where they found the seed planted by them on their first visit had borne good fruit, and a church xvas soon organ- ized. The Danbury church flourished from the beginning, and within a few years had acquired a membership of about one hundred persons. The elders once more returned to Boston, this time not to leave the city until a church had been planted. In a letter written to Sandeman and signed jointly by the Messrs. White, of Dan- bury, already mentioned, these speak of the pastors of the churches in Newton, Stratford, New Fairfield, Newberry and Philippi, Messrs. Jud- son, Beeba, Whetmore, Taylor, Brooks and Gregory, all living near us, as having been aroused to the imperfection and obscurity of their former notions. The Newton re- ferred to is Newtown, several miles from Danbury. Newberry. is thought to be Southbury, but it is not clear where Philippi was located, as no such name is known in Connecticut. So far as can be learned at this late day, none of the clergymen mentioned by the Messrs. White established San- demanian churches, although several THE OLI) SANDEMANIAN CHURCH, THE ONLY ONE IN AMERICA. THE SANDEMANIANS. 241 of them abandoned their charges and accepted the new faith. In 1772 the Danbnry church re- moved to New Haven, where it flourished about four years. The house of worship was located on Gregson Street, and stood until the middle of this century. When the War of the Revolution broke out, the Sandemanians, most of whom were royalists, became objects of suspicion. They were harassed upon every pos- sible occasion, and the slight- est pretext was sufficient to cause them to be brought into the courts. Many of them were impris- oned. They could not with- stand these at- tacks, and meet- ings in all their churches were suspended and in some of the smaller ones were never re- vived. A num- ber of attempts were made to revive the Bos- ton church after the Revolution, but they were unsuccessful in giv- ing their meetings a permanency. The New Haven church did not prosper after the Revolution, nor did any one of the smaller churches which had sprung up around Boston and in Connecticut and New Hamp- shire. The Portsmouth church thrived until after the advent of the present century, when it began to fall away, and by 1820 the last vestige of it had disappeared. The church at Danbury alone has survived until now; and that will soon be gone. An infinitely small remnant is all that is left of the several thousand Sandemanians who at one time spread alarm among all creeds and sects; because the simplicity of their faith appealed to all classes and their num- bers increased rapidly in spite of bitter opposition by ministers and laymen. So far as can be learned there are now but ten Sandemanians in America. Four are in Danbury and hold services regularly every pleasant Sunday, not- withstanding all are well advanced in years. The six others are scattered over the coun- try. It was not until very recent years that they gave up assem- bling at Dan- bury at least once each year to attend a communion ser- vice and love feast. A few years ago the old church, the last of the de- nomination in America, was given up. In 1890 the prop- erty was sold and a fine resi- deuce built upon the site. The church building be- came a stable, and is now used as such. The Feast House adjoining the church is the residence of one of the four Sande- manians who are left; and it is there that the meetings are held. The same form of service is observed as in the last century, even to the making a feast and extending a welcome to strangers. When the church in Danbury was sold, it became necessary to secure the signatures of two thirds of the Sande- manians in America to the deed, a pro- ceeding which took many month to accomplish. The proceeds of the sale were divided among the members of the church, in equal shares. ROBERT SANDEMAN. 242 THE SANDEMANIANS. Barbers Historical Collections, published in 1836, gives this account of the form of service observed by Sandemanians They meet on the Sabbath, and the Thursday afternoon of each week, to exhort, and to explain the sacred word. Their church is provided with a large circular table, which occupies nearly half of the area of the building, at which several of the members seat themselves, each one provided with a copy of the Scriptures, and as they individ- ually feel disposed, they read and comment thereon, the females excepted. They appear to worship by themselves, the congregation not partaking therein, being but indifferent spectators of the proceedings. That account was, in the main, cor- rect, as applied to the churches in Danbury, Boston, Portsmouth and New Haven. The service was varied in some of the smaller churches, and even in the four large churches men- tioned it underwent radical changes from time to time. It was the custom, after each service, for the members to assemble at the house of one of their number where a feast was spread. The Dan- bury church departed from the custom and erected, a short distance from the church, a Feast House. There the members gathered every Sunday after- noon. The senior or ministering elder sat at the head of the table. Be- fore the meal was begun, he turned to the brother or sister at his right and imparted the holy kiss or kiss of fellow- ship. The recipient did the same to his or her neighbor on the right, and so on, until the kiss had gone entirely around the table and returned to the ministering elder. It was ~ this strange custom which caused the Sandemanians to be widely known as the Kissites. It is singular that every church of the denomina- tion, in England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales and Amer- ica, at one time or another was threatened with disso- lution because of dissensions among the members. Many of them were (lismembered, the disaffected ones forming new churches and wor- shipping according to their own views rather than following the tenets of the parent church. The Sande- manians themselves were dissenters from John Glas. The most serious division the church suffered in America was when a party headed by Elder Levi Osborn left the Danbury church and founded a new sect known as the Osbornites. The Osbornites were short-lived, however, as they gained nothing by proselyting, and their original membership was steadily decreased by death. There was more than a suggestion of socialism in the creed of the Sande- manians. They held that the bare work which the Lord Jesus finished on the cross was sufficient, without a deed or thought on the part of man, to justifythe chief of sinners before God. They professed to love one another for that truths sake, and to separate them- selves from the course of this present evil world, in obedience to all the com- mandments of the Lord, and were con- sequently despised and hated by all the world. They were, in the earlier days of the church, a poor and afflicted people. They believed in holding everything in common. It was un- lawful for Christians to lay up treas- ures on earth, or to increase in the SANDEMANiAN FEAST HOUSE. THE SANDEMANIANS. wealth of this world; but they were bound to sell what they had and give the proceeds to the poor. It was not in the nature of things for such sentiments to obtain perma- nently. So captivating were the charms of worldly things, that the hope of eternal life gradually lost its dominance and some of the members grew lukewarm and finally began to accumulate wealth. In 1788 the dis- senters boldly asserted that the word of God justified Christians in growing rich in this world, or, in other words, that they were not required by the Lord to give all their surplus money and goods in alms. The dissenters comprised the majority of the Dan- bury Sandemanians, and the church they founded prospered, while the original church fell backward. It had a precarious existence for a few years and then dropped out of sight, most of its membership being absorbed by the new church. The new doctrine of covetousness prevailed to such an extent that it was finally adopted, although in a much modified form, by the Boston church. All the remain- ing churches in America took it up eventually, and the idol set up by Robert Sandeman was shattered. A writer in The Religious Monitor, 1799, says: The society in Danbury from the time of the awful revolution continued to grow worse and more conformed to this world, and ac- cumulated the wealth of it, so that at length there was not a poor man among them, and the elders (so called) were now considered as clergymen, and with them exempted from taxation. They were so assimulated to other anti-Christian societies, that it was often observed and conversed upon by their fellow- townsmen, that they differed from the relig- ion of the country only in name and were altogether another sort of Christians from what they were formerly, and that there was no more agreement or charity, than among other religious people as it was notorious that they were living in malice and envy, hateful and hating one another. In the year i~~ the churches in Boston and Portsmouth were called to repentance. They came together, made a new profession of faith, and entreated the Danbury church to repent also. The appeal was fruitless. A long and spirited contest arose, which resulted in Boston and Ports- mouth being cast out. A statement was sent out to the churches in Great Britain, and those churches justified the course taken by the Dan- burians and the smaller bodies in rejecting Boston and Portsmotith. It is claimed that Danbury obtained the sanction of the parent church in Great Britain in casting out Boston and Portsmouth, by a wicked and deceit- ful statement of all these awful scenes that were enacted in the various churches in America, referring to the disputes and withdrawal of disaffected members. However that may have been, the Danbury Sandemanians were not only successful in discarding the Boston and Portsmouth churches; they also kept them out. The two rejected churches con- tinued to worship regularly as Sande- manians, although they were not rec- ognized by that denomination either in America or abroad.* It is strange, yet true, that these two rejected churches were the only ones in this country which at that time fol- lowed strictly the teachings of John Glas and Robert Sandeman.. It is ~ As this article is intended to treat of the Sandemanian church in America, I have made no more allusions to the Glasites and Sandemanians in Europe than was ahsolutely necessary. It may, however, he of interest to some to know that in the latter part of the eighteenth century and the early part of the nineteenth, there were nearly a hundred Glasite and Sandemanian congregations scattered throngh- out England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales and France. Most of these congregations had houses of worship of one kind or another, hut not more than a dozen or so had churches. It was the custom to organize a church society as soon as six or more helievera could he gathered together regularly under one roof. Meetings were held in warehouses, stores, factories, dwelling houses and other convenient places. When a congregation numhered twenty or more helievers it was thought to he getting too large to he wieldy, so additional elders were elected and a new congregation was formed. Converts were comparatively few, and each new memher was received with manifestations of great joy, and his or her name was sent out among the leaders of the faith wherever located. The ceremony of washing one anothers feet was generally practised among the Sandema- nians of Europe, hut seems not to have heen popular in America. It was practised in Boston, Portsmouth and New Haven only to a limited extent, and even in Danhury it did not always form a part of the service on each Sunday. For a numher of years it was a part of the weekly service, then it was done on the first Sunday of each month, and finally the custom was dropped altogether. There still remain several Glasite or Sandemanian churches in Scot- land and England; hut their memhers are few. As they are not adding to their nnmhers, it is a question of hut a few years when they will, like their sister churches in America, pass out of existence. 243 244 TOO LATE. stranger still that they were scorned, scoffed at and treated with the utmost contempt by the great body of the church; which seems to prove that the charges of misrepresentation and deceit were pretty well founded. The Boston and Portsmouth churches did not long survive the unjust and severe treatment they had received. In the fall of i7~7 the controversy was renewed. The Danbury church made an open confession that it had gone wholly into covetousness for ten years; that those persons who had held fast the faithful word had been injuriously treated, and that the guilt ought to be confessed. The Dan- bury church, which had nearly been dismembered, was reunited, and peace reigned. But it xvas too late to save any others of the churches in America. They had become so dis- rupted and unsettled, the members were so continually quarrelling among themselves, that the confidence of the public in the new faith was destroyed. It was of no use to expect conversions to a creed, the followers of which could not agree. Proselyting under the circumstances was fruitless if not impossible. So it was that the opening of the nineteenth century found but one San- demanian church in America which had a considerable membership and was recognized by the parent church abroad. The Danbury church flourished for many years, from time to time varying its forms of worship in accordance with the views of a majority of its members, but following with much fidelity the chief doctrines of Robert Sandeman. In a little cemetery almost in the centre of Danbury is an old tombstone bearing this inscription: Here lies, until the resurrection, the body of Robert Sandeman, a native of Perth, North Britain, who in the face of continual opposition from all sorts of men boldly con-. tended for the ancient Faith, that the bare word of Jesus Christ, without a deed or thought on the part of man, is sufficient to present the chief of sinners spotless before God. To declare this blessed Truth, as testified in the Holy Scriptures, he left his country, he left his friends, and after much patient suffering, finished his labors at Dan- bury, April 2,177!, A~. 53 years. Deignd Christ to come so nigh to us, As not to count it shame To call us Bretheren, should we blush At aught that bears his name? Nay, let us boast in his reproach, And glory in his Cross; When he appears one smile from him Would far oerpay our loss. TOO LATE. By Kate W/iiti~zg Pa/c/i. THE grass grew tall and swayed in the wind, But we wandered by with heedless feet. The mower slowly passed that way, And, when we came at close of day, The air was filled with a fragrance sxveet. A man lived yonder over the hill. Careless we passed him in the strife. But Death, the iVlower, came that way, And we knew, too late, alas! one day, Of the sweetness hid in that quiet life. IN THE DARKROOM. By Frank Roe Batc/zelder. N her part, it came about through her being un- willing to stain her dainty fingers. For him, the beginning was long be- fore that, when he had posed her for some pic- tures which had been the envy of all the other girls in town. Helen was spoiled; no doubt about that. She ha~ been reminded that she was beautiful oftener than was abso- lutely necessary, and she had a papa who supplied her with money to gratify her every wish. Yet she really meant to be useful in the world. She had run through quite a list of fads. She had been Mine. Chevreuls best French pupil, and could speak and write like a Parisian. Not for the money, but because none of the other girls could do it, she had taken pupils in French for a season, and had given the proceeds to the School for the Deaf and Dumb, heroically sacrificing a pearl necklace she had set her heart on buying with the money. It is true, papa subsequently bought her the necklace. She had done china paint- ing, and that well enough to take prizes at the exhibition. But even china painting wears on ones nerves. She came to think the oils poisoned her. Exeunt brush and palette. Now it was photography. With the finest of cameras and lenses and a de- termination to excel, she was making beautiful pictures. She had been developing her own plates; but, alas! society has its claims, and posi- tively she could not allow the developer to stain her rosy finger- nails. Hence she decided that some one else must be allowed to develop her plates. No amateur in town could do it half so well as herself, and she had a fine scorn for the people who do the rest in job lots. So she went into Devrays studio and insisted on seeing Mr. Devray himself; and in the end it was arranged that thereafter he should develop all her plates. Devray was not over thirty. He had located in the place two years before, and from the day he opened his studio he had made the finest portraits the city had ever seen. Born and reared in Paris, he was a true artist and his heart was in his work. No painter ever put more soul into his colors on the canvas than Devray put into the manipulation of his dry plates. Helen was not unknown to him, for she had been one of his first patrons when his studio was opened. But he had experienced no tender passion at his first meeting with the beautiful Miss Storms. He had looked at her from the artists standpoint only. Her fine features, every line chiselled to make her a goddess, her wavy hair, of that soft brown which photographs in its true color value, her beautiful complexion, which would make the suggestion of retouching scandalous, her grace and beauty of figure in any pose, all these made her a model from whom Devray could not fail to get inspiration. He was hardly conscious of her personal charms as a woman, at this time. But it is quite true to say that he fell in love with her negative. Alone in his darkroom, as those glori- ous images flashed up on the plate, soft and thin, perfect in every photo- graphic quality, he muttered to him- self: Glorious! What a plate! She is an angel ! Even before he had made a proof, he was madly in love with that peerless image in gray and 245 246 IN THE DARKROOM. white which made the bit of glass and gelatine a treasure. It never had occurred to Devray that he might fall in love with any of his customers. It did not now occur to him that he must not do so. It came upon him in a moment. But he had the good sense to keep it to him- self. His passion was not fed by con- tact; for after the day of the picture- making he had seen her but once or twice, and then in her fathers carriage. In his studio, however, he could wor- ship his favorite negative unmolested and unchid. So it went on, the artist worshipping his goddess in her coun- terfeit, and she wholly unconscious of her conquest. Had she been con- sciouswell, Helen xvas used to that; it would not even have annoyed her. But she came to Devrays place, now that she was seeking some one to develop her plates, because she appre- ciated and admired his work. She knew that the art in photography is as much in the darkroom as it is under the skylight, and with her uncon- sciously imperious way of wanting only the best, she decided offhand that Devray should develop for her. That he might decline the honor did not enter her head. Devrays heart had given a jump when the attendant came into the operating-room with the message that Miss Storms wished to see him about developing some plates. He lost something of his Parisian poise as he listened to her request. Really, I dont know, he began apologetically; we have made it a rule not to undertakeHelens eyebrows indicated a mild sort of surprise. He coughed as he saw it. But, of course, to oblige you, I can develop them. Only I must ask that you will not advertise the fact; for you know there is no money in itand we are so very full of work. Helen laughed, and agreed to the condition. She was in good humor, as she always was when she carried her point. She even said to herself that this Frenchman seemed a very agree- able person. Devray developed her plates. They were good ones, too; and that did not lessen his admiration for the fair photographer. We always have respect for the people who can do well, as dilettanti, the things in which we are ourselves expert as a matter of bread and buttereven if we are jealous of them at the same time. When Helen came in to get her negatives, Devray politely compli- mented her skill. She held the nega- tives up to the light, one by one, and examined them critically. On her part, she was delighted with the photo - graphers work. They were crisp and soft, even, quick printers, excellent in every way. She was quite radiant as she thanked him and paid the sum he named, congratulating herself on hav- ing secured his services. Helen came three or four times with her plates, and each time some trifling explanation to be made necessitated having speech with Devray himself. Likewise, when she called for the negatives, he had something to say of them in polite criticism of the exposure or in suggestion as to the method of obtaining the best results from them in the printing. One day he ventured to show her an especially fine negative he had just produced. Of course she was interested. The next time she called she asked him frankly if he had anything more of the sort. Her aris- tocracy wore off as she realized that this man was quite as well-bred, as cultivated, as herself, and a genuine artist into the bargain. She may have been dimly conscious, too, that he had a fine face and a generally prepossess- ing appearance. From negatives shown her in the reception-room, it went to explana- tions of his ideas of posing and light- ing, in the operating-room. She laughingly acquiesced when he asked her to sit while he illustrated with a plate of herself some point he had ex- plained to her. Do you see, he was saying earn- IN THE DARKROOM. 247 estly, how this screen affects the upper lighting? Now, mademoiselle, permettez-moi Then he began to apologize. The French had slipped out unawares, in his enthusiasm, for his English was perfect. She smiled encouragingly. Mon- sieur, she saidand bewitchingly her rosy lips shaped the wordJ forgive you, provided you speak only in French to me hereafter ! He blushed furiously. Helen was laughing at him. Mademoiselle, he stammered, vouz vouzyou speak French, then? A little, she said. And she recited a stanza of a little love poem of Bdrangerthe first thing that popped into her head. VVhat a picture she was, there in the studio, with the screen still over her, and her eyes sparkling with fun as she watched the astounded Frenchman! Her hauteur had long since packed up and departed for good. She was enjoying herself hugely. This clever fellow was so different from the young dandies who wore out the satin of papas drawing-room furniture. Devray was profoundly affected. This young woman, whom he had first admired for her possibilities as a subject, with whose negative he had fallen desperately in lovesubse- quently transferring that passion to the original,and wh6se artistic work with the dry plate had commanded his respect, was now speaking his native tongue as he had heard his high-born mother speak it. Mademoiselle, he said, bowing, and with a sincerity almost solemn, I thank you. Permit me to add that I have not heard such speech since the day I left Havre. And Helen, who knew it was not flattery, felt repaid for having borne the tyranny of Mine. Chevreul. After the episode of the French tongue, the affair progressed rapidly. Helen found the man thoroughly lik- able. It came about that she used her camera more than ever, and then there was always the developing. It was her own suggestion that Devray should show her in practice his method of development. So, with conventions dismissed, and clad in a long apron borrowed from the young woman attendant in the reception-room, Helen took her first lesson in Devrays darkroom. It would be a grewsome place to any one but a photographer. At one end of the small room, over a capacious sink, was a little patch of dull orange light, where a gas-jet outside shone through translucent paper made to shield the sensitive dry plates from the white light which would ruin them. Shelves running all about the room were loaded with huge glass jars and smaller bottlesall sizes holding from a drachm up to two or three gallons. Glass graduates, trays and funnels were crowded in among the bottles. On the floor were kegs of hyposulphite of soda and all sorts of washing-boxes and drying-racks. Helen noticed these things with the eye of a connois- seur, while Devray was ma king up his solutions, explaining to her the form- uke and his use of the hydrometer. Then the light in the room was extinguished, and only the patch of orange light shone dimly in the gloom. What an adventure for a young wo- man of society, alone in this stuffy darkroom with a burning enthusiast who was madly in love with her! But their conversation was purely scien- tific. He talked to her of pyro, and of sulphite, of soda and of the hydrometer test as superior to the scales for work with chemicals; though all the time he was longing to drop the developing tray and plates and all and cry out: I I love you! I love you! a hundred thousand times. In the dim light he only caught the flash of her diamonds or the shine of the light in her eyes; but he felt her breath upon his hand as she bent over, watching the plates, and heard the rustle of her gown close by his side. Helen was radiant over her newly acquired knowledge and delighted 248 IN THE DARKROOM. with her adventure. Before she left the studio, she had made an appoint- ment to develop with Devray again, on the following Thursday. At dinner, that night, Helen re- counted her experience. Mamma was horrified. Alone! and in a dark- room with him! Oh, Helen ! Why, yes, mamma, said Helen, mischievously, did you think we developed our plates by electric light? or that he was an ogre?when he is really a very nice man, you know, and has been ever so obliging to me. Mamma protested; but she was always doing that. Papa laughed at the colloquy. To him, Devray was only that photographer chap who made those stunning pictures of my little girl ! When Helen had developed half a dozen times with Devray,for it seemed there were constantly new things to learn,she found herself liking this talented, clever fellow, who was as skilful in his chemistry as he was artistic in his posing; and her in- terest in the man himself, once awak- ened, grew stronger day by day. She went over to New York and spent several weeks with an aunt; and before her visit came to an end, she realized that she was missing Devray and his darkroom. How absurd ! she said to herself. But she found herself glad to be at home again, and of course she had brought a lot of plates to be developed. It was time that Helen acknowl- edged the truth to herself. She was not really in love with Devray; but she was on the edge of the precipice. In all this time they had talked about other things than photography, and she had come to have as much respect for the man himself as for his photo- graphic skill. She was aware that she was best pleased in the hours she spent with him. But she would not face the whole truth, for she knew a surrender to her inclinations meant an earth- quake in her home and the burning of all her bridges behind her. She was brave enough to endure the lifted eye- brows of society for arts sake; but now,well, of a sudden she became a coward. The end came without warning. They were developing in the dark- room which was now a familiar place to her. Suddenly he set down the tray which he held and turned toward her. Miss Storms, he began, forgive me if I choose a strange place to say what I would say to you; but say it I must, and now. And so he said it, the same thing other men have saidno new story. He spoke in his native French, and Helen thought no speech had ever sounded like it. She heard him through. She was standing against the sink, scarce three feet from him, and while he spoke she did not move. She had had her hands in the fixing bath as he began, and while he talked she was twisting them furiously in the back folds of her dress. She was con- scious of a thought that mamma would scold when she saw the ruinous yellow stains. I am not wealthy, like you, he concluded; but I have built up a phenomenal business. I have a hand- some income and prospects of increas- ing it. I am not known in society, for I have never tried to be; but my family is ancient and noble. I love you with all my heart, and I ask you to be my wife. In the moments silence which fol- lowed, and which seemed to Devray a lifetime, it was so very still that Helen heard the ticking of his watch, which he had hung on a nail over the faucet. She had heard other declarations; many men had said they loved her; but no one had ever talked to her as Devray had talked. She was half in- clined to throw down the gauntlet to family and friends and society; for as she examined her heart, now when she must, she knew she loved this man, not passionately, perhaps, as he loved her, but sincerely and fondly. But her courage sank as she saw visions of an irate mamma and a dis IN THE DARKROOM. 249 appointed papa, and heard the sneers of a supercilious society. Poor meagre spirit! Then her training and her great self-control came to her, and she said, speaking in Englishshe could not bear to reply in French, now: Mr. Devray, I believe you to be a true and honorable man, and that you are in every way worthy of what you ask. If I may say more without causing you greater unhappiness, it is that I know no man of whom I think more kindly than of you. She choked a little. This day brings sor- row to me as well as to you. But what you ask can never be. Yet let us part friends. I respect and esteem you, and would do anything in my power to serve you and make you happyanything but this. She held out her little hand, still with the dampness of the hypo bath upon it, as if to say good-by. No, she said, as he made a movement to go out with her, do not come out with me. I will make my way out alone. She said to herself it was kinder so; and secretly she dreaded to look upon his face in the light of day. Her hand was on the door before he spoke. Good blood in him! His hope shattered, his dream dispelled, he still was worthy of his sires who fought on feudal fields. He did not attempt to argue with her; he knew her too well for that. Miss Storms, he said gravelyhe too was speaking English now,less than your friend I could never be. I do not think you one to lightly dismiss an affection honorable as you must know mine to be. However much I suffer from your decision, I shall never cease to think of you as I think now. The fine dignity of the man shamed her. How mean and poor her fashionable world looked in compari- son! No one of the men she had refused had ever spoken like that. Very near she was to braving all the consequences and turning back to him. But her courage would not rise. My dear friend, she said, and her sight was blurring with tears, forgive me the pain I cause you. Then she was gone. Everybody was there, and without doubt it was the most brilliant wedding of the season. Certainly Lady Weatherston looked the fairest bride ever seen on Nobility Hill. Beautiful as ever, grown more imperious, and with her enthusiasms quite gone now, it was still Helen Stormsor it had been Helen Storms until Lord Weatherstons ring was slipped upon her finger. In the eleven months since that day in Devrays darkroom, Helen had not been happy. Regret for her decision she had felt, but she had resolutely put it behind her, since the first few days, when she had been sorely tempted to go to him and tell him the whole truth. The camera she had put away the morning after the scene with Devray. When they asked why she made no more pictures, she said she had done so much in photography she had tired of it. She devoted herself to em- broidery, and tried to work out her unhappiness in millions of tiny stitches. So Devray disappeared from her life without comment. She had never seen him since that day. As a matter of fact, he rarely left his studio now, save to go to his hotel. In the even- ings, there was usually a dim light burning late in the studio, and there in the half gloom Devray sat silent and dreaming, strumming out sad melodies on his guitar. 1-le grew pale and worn. Old Doctor Benton, who had a weak- ness for sitting for his picture, and often ran in to see Devray, whom he liked and appreciated, cautioned the photographer that he was working too hard and running down. He pre- scribed a tonic and open-air exercise. Devray got the drugs and com- pounded the prescription himself, put- ting it up in one of his glass-stoppered bottles such as he kept photographic solutions in. But he did not take the long walks. He kept more and more by himself, and grew despondent. Lord Weatherston had come upon 250 IN THE DARKROOM. the scene, rich, titled, a diplomat, a man of poise, clever and sensible, neither a fool nor a snob,in short, a man whose attentions any woman might feel honored in receiving. Mamma was ecstatic; papa had his doubts about Helens satisfaction, but withal was not averse to having a lord for a son-in-law; society was envious. Helen did not love him, but she esteemed and liked him, and she felt that it was what mamma and papa and society expected of her. So she had said yes, and the wedding day had come and gone. But curiously enough, as she stood up under the floral bell, and heard the solemn words of the priest, her mind xvandered back to Devrays studio. Thought is so instantaneous a thing that we often seem to think of many things at once. And while she heard the xvords the priest was smoothly rolling out, her mind kept going back to one afternoon when Devray had been giving her the formula for a solu- tion, and in thought she ran over that formula, remembering how he had said: Be sure to label it Poison. It was the morning after the wed- ding. In Devrays studio a gas-flame was trying to beat back the usurper, daylight. The boy who came in early and tidied the rooms before the work of the day began was the first to find It. He saw the gas burning, and turned it out. The boss forgets his meals now, he said,whats gas- bills to himi ? He began with his broom and duster. Presently he went out to the darkroom. The door was open a trifle, and the orange light was burn- ing. Devray must have been develop- ing the night before and forgotten that also, thought the boy. Then he saw It,and his blood froze and he uttered a scream that was heard in the street far below. He ran for the stairway, yelling with fright, and half way down was collared by a policeman who wanted to know what the row was. In a moment more, people were at the darkroom door. Under the ghastly orange light lay the still form of the artist, his face pale and thin, dark rings about his eyes. He had been dead since midnight. When they looked about, they found on the shelf the glass-stoppered bottle containing Dr. Bentons tonic. The label on it gave the simple formula. And shattered on the floor, near Devrays still form, was a graduate from which he had drunk, and another glass-stoppered bottle, the twin of that on the shelf. But the label gave a formula for a photographic solution containing a quick and deadly poison. Was it a mistake? Had he been developing when the hour for taking his medicine arrived, and had he reached in the dark for the bottle and taken a draught from the wrong one? The newspapers said it was probable. But when his former pupil read the I)ainful story, she shuddered as she re- called the thought of her xvedding hour. For she knew that Devray had not been developing with his dark- room door open, even a trifle, despite the plates that had been left in the developing tray, apparently by acci- dent. Papa only said: Gad! Its that photographer chap who made the stunning pictures of my little girl ! There are times, however, when Lady Weatherston draws out of tissue papers some prints of a young girl posed gracefully and naturally, and spends an hour alone with them; and really, there are spots that seem to have been made by drops of water, on the flourished gilding at the bottom of the mounts, where it says: Devray, Artist Photographer. RAILWAY CONSOLIDATION IN NEW ENGLAND. By George F. Seymour. IT requires but a cursory examina- tion of the railroad history of New England during the past twenty- five years, say from 1872, to find an apt illustration of the adage, The big fish swallow the little ones; and a more thorough investigation will fur- nish not only much that is of interest as showing tl~ie inception and growth of a great portion of our existing rail- road systems, but an excellent basis for speculation as to the probabilities of the future. Taking as authority Poors Manual of the Railroads of the United States for 18723, it may be said in a general way that over twenty of the New Eng- land railroads which were operated at that time by the companies owning them have passed, either directly or by means of intervening leases, into the control of three great corporations whose roads terminate in the city of Boston,and this without taking into account the small local roads, but only those constructed with the object of securing, by means of their connec- tions with other lines, a greater or less amount of through traffic. To be more specific, the Fitchburg Railroad Company has obtained con- trol of the Vermont & Massachusetts, the Boston, Barre & Gardner, the Troy & Boston, and the Cheshire; and also of the Boston, Hoosac Tun- nel & Western, and the Troy & Green- field (including the Hoosac Tunnel), which were not completed until a later day. The New York, New Haven & Hartford Railroad Company has se- cured the New York, Providence & Boston, the Providence & Worcester, the New Haven & Northampton, the Old Colony, the Boston & Provi- dence, the Naugatuck, the Housa- tonic, the Connecticut Valley, the Danbury & Norwalk, the Boston, Clinton & Fitchburg, and the New Haven, Middletown & Willimantic (better known as The Air Line); and, at a quite recent date, it virtually assumed the management of the re- organized New York & New England Railroad and its leased lines. The Boston & Maine Railroad has absorbed the Eastern, and now op- erates the Worcester & Nashua, the Boston & Lowell (including the Nashua & Lowell), the Northern (and with it the Concord & Claremont), the Concord, the Boston, Concord & Montreal (the last two being known latterly as the Concord & Montreal), the Passumpsic, the Con- necticut River, and the Central Massa- chusetts the last-named road not having been completed until i886; while, by virtue of its ownership of their stock, it controls the manage- ment of the Portland & Rochester, St. Johusbury & Lake Champlain, and the Maine Central, the latter be- ing the lessee of the Portland & Og- densburg, the Knox & Lincoln, and the Upper Coos Railroads. It must be borne in mind that these leased roads were not all of them bankrupt, or even unprofitable, al- though in some few instances this was the fact; but that nearly all of them xvere valuable properties, paying good dividends each year, and that two or three of them were almost, if not quite, of equal importance with those to which their management was sur- rendered. With this fact remem- bered, it becomes evident that this gradual process of absorption, by means of which so many of our rail- roads have lost their identity, is the result of some principle of economics; for no man is willing to abandon the control of his property unless he can 251 252 RAILWAY CONSOLIDATION IN ATEW ENGLAND. be the gainer, nor is any man disposed to assume the burden and risk of man- aging the property of another unless he can do it at a profit to himself. A corporation is but an aggregation of men, whose affairs are controlled by its stockholders. The stockholders of all these corporations which have leased their properties have been in- fluenced by the one motive of better- ing themselves: in the case of the non- paying roads, by getting out of an unprofitable investment upon as good terms as could be obtained from the lessee; in the other, by accepting, in lieu of dividends liable to vary in amount or to be passed entirely, a fixed sum by way of rental, which be- came of the nature of a fixed charge upon the lessee and was bound to be forthcoming without regard to the volume or the profitableness of the traffic or the loss entailed by accidents or damages from any cause. Of course, the same general consid- eration, that of profit, governed the lessees; although the immediate rea- sons were various, differing xvith the circumstances of each case. In the majority of instances, it has been to avoid or to stop competition, by the acquisition, so far as possible, of all the lines within a certain territory. Sometimes it has been with the pur- pose of preventing a road from pass- ing into the possession of a rival cor- poration, or perhaps to acquire and hold it with the intent and hope of dis- posing of it at a profit. Benefit was to come to the lessee, not only from the lessees ability to operate the leased lines at a greater profit, through the saving in general ex- penses, etc., than the owners could earn for themselves, but from the in- creased facilities obtained for the les- see s own traffic, in the way of con- nections, terminals, additional rolling stock, etc. So these various leases have been made, all of them since 1872; they have been entered into with a full understanding of their scope and probable effect, agreed upon by the directors, approved by the stockhold- ers, and made, the greater number of them, by virtue of express authority of the legislature and with its ratification. Let us glance at the position of these three corporations in 1872, and compare it with that which they oc- cupy at the present time. The Fitchburg Railroad had its main line from Boston to Fitchburg, 50 miles, and 42.64 miles of branches, 92.64 miles in all. It now operates 450.38 miles of road, extending from Boston to Troy and Saratoga, N. Y., and to Keene, N. H.; and it has come into possession of the Tyoy & Green- field Railroad and Hoosac Tunnel, that great work upon which the Com- monwealth of Massachusetts expended millions of dollars. In 1872 it had 36 locomotives, while now 204 are re- quired for its business. The New York & New Haven and the Hartford & New Haven were at that time distinct corporations, al- though their roads were operated on joint account, the profits being divided upon a basis of 43 and 57 per cent. The united lines extended from Wil- liamsbridge, N. Y., to New Haven, 62.25 miles, and from the latter point to Springfield, Mass., 62 miles; and there were i6 miles of branches, mak- ing a total of 140.25 miles. The two companies were the owners of 70 locomotives. The present mileage of the New York, New Haven & Hart- ford Railroad is 1469.28, its main line connecting New York and Boston, and it has 669 locomotives, and a large fleet of freight and passenger steam- boats plying between New York and the cities of Fall River, Newport, Providence, Norwich and Stonington. Its branches run in a northerly direc- tion, some of them as far as the Fitch- burg Railroad, which they touch at several points; while by the lease of the Old Colony and a few minor roads, it has virtual control of the entire traffic of Connecticut and Rhode Island, and also of southeast- ern Massachusetts. In 1872, the Boston & Maine Rail- RAILWAY CONSOLIDATION IN NEW ENGLAND. 253 road operated its main line, extending from Boston to South Berwick Junc- tion, Me., and was announced as now extending its main line from South Berwick to Portland, about 40 miles. It also operated the Medford Branch, 2 miles, and the Great Falls Branch, 2.75 miles; and it leased the New- buryport, the Danvers, and the Dover & Winnipiseogee Railroads, 64.75 miles in all,making a total mileage of 143.75; and 49 locomotives were in use. It has now 566 locomotives, and 1707 miles of operated road; and it controls, in addition to this, 1069 miles of road operated by other com- panies,making a total of 2776 miles. By the Connecticut River and Pas- sumpsic divisions, it has a continuous line (broken only by two short pieces operated by the Central Vermont Railroad) from Springfield to Sher- brooke, P. Q., a distance of 269 miles; and this is tapped at five separate points by others of its roads running to Boston; while at St. Johnsbury, Vt., it crosses the St. Johnsbury & Lake Champlain Railroad, extending from the shores of that lake to Lunen- burg, where it connects with the Maine Central Railroad for Portland and the British Provinces. It has two routes between Boston and the White Mountains, and two separate lines from Boston to Portland, as well as one from Worcester, via the Port- land & Rochester Railroad. Indeed, there is scarcely a city of importance within its territory which is not reached by more than one of its many divisions. Its influence is felt from Boston, in the south, to the Rangeley Lakes and Vanceboro, in the north; and throughout Maine, Vermont and Massachusetts, as well as in the Do- minion of Canada, it is a most power- ful factor in all matters relating to transportation; while the suburban territory lying to the north and north- east of Boston is fairly gridironed by its tracks. It may not be amiss to add that, so far as can be judged at this time, the amalgamation of railroad properties has not, in any portion of the United States, been effected with so much wisdom, and attended with such good results, as in New England. The leased lines have not, as so often in the West, been taken at haphazard and for no apparent reason save that of adding to the mileage of the lessee; but they have, in nearly every in- stance, been the means of strengthen- ing the operating company, of per- fecting its system, making it more coherent and symmetrical and capable of handling its business to the best possible advantage. This condition of things is due to the fact that the Napoleonic idea, in its application to financial and railway affairs has never found much favor in this section of the country, and that, except in two or three instances, and then for very brief periods, its ex- ponents have not gained a foothold here. The executive officers of the railroads of New England are men reared in the profession which they now adorn, men of experience and common sense, brilliant and enterpris- ing enough to avail themselves of all proper opportunities, and with suffi- cient conservatism to avoid entering into hazardous or unnecessary com- binations. Had the general policy by which they are governed been applied to the management of certain rail- roads in the western part of the coun- try, these would not now be in the custody of the courts, with such un- certain futures as to liquidation and reorganization. HI E Municipal League of Boston, T confronting the evils which mu- n icipal reformers have to deal with in almost all of our American cities alike, proposed, in entering upon its active campaign more than a year ago, five definite measures: First, a longer term for the Mayor, whose term of office was then but one year; second, the abolishing of several com- missions and placing each department of the city administration under the control of a single head, for the sake of the definite fixing of responsibility; third, the creation of a Board of Ap- portionment, consisting of the Mayor, the President of the City Council, the Auditor, and the two senior members of the Board of Sinking Fund Com- missioners; fourth, the substitution of a City Council of a single chamber for the present Common Council and Board of Aldermenthe new Council to consist of twenty-seven members, holding office three years, nine mem- bers being elected each year; fifth, the election of the members of the City Council onageneral ticket,onthe prin- ciple of proportional representation. The first two of these five changes were secured from the last Legisla- ture. For the last three measures the League is working before the present Legislature. The prospect for secur- ing them is vastly better than a year ago. They have been thoroughly dis- cussed during the year at various meetings of the League, and the more completely their scope- has been seen and understood, the more emphat- ically they have been endorsed. The measures have the approval of the present Mayor, Mr. Quincy, and of his two predecessors, Mr. Curtis and Mr. Matthews. More than this, the general public is being educated upon municipal matters at this time very rapidly. The Munici- pal Leagues all over the country are educational agencies of great energy and influence; municipal reform is the theme of newspaper and magazine and pulpit and club discussion and the business and occasion of conventions as never before; and the result is that the public is vastly better informed than it was a year ago, that there is vastly more fertile soil in Legislatures, and that the support which municipal reformers receive from the press is much more intelligent and important. * * If we were asked to name the edu- cational agency which has been of highest value and service in America in this time, in this important ficld, we should unhesitatingly pronou ice it Dr. Albert Shaws work upon Municipal Government in Europe.~~ The first volume of this scholarly and thorough work, that relating to Great Britain, appeared more than a year ago; the second volume, devoted to Continental Europe, has only recently been placed in our hands. Some of the chapters in these volumes had been published previously in the lead- ing magazines, and had done conspic- uous service in rousing our people to a sense of the great strides being taken by the leading European cities in the work of reform and of their distinct superiority to our own cities in almost every point of organization and ad- ministration. But these chapters had been enriched, many entirely new chapters were added, and the impres- sion of the volumes as a whole upon all American students of modern mu- 2~4 EDITORS TABLE. 255 nicipal problems has been very deep. Dr. Shaw has been a student of cities and their administration for many years; he is thoroughly familiar with the history, the charters and the present political condition of our American cities, and therefore able everywhere to make intelligent and exact comparisons; and he has studied the European cities of which he writes at first hand, with noteworthy patience and thoroughness and zeal. He has given us here an account of the things which we most want to know and which are of real use to us in our efforts here. The municipal systems of France, Belgium, Holland, Spain, Italy and Germany are clearly outlined in the volume on Continental Europe, with full special chapters de- voted to the cities of Paris, Hamburg, Vienna and Buda-Pesth; and in the volume on Great Britain there are general chapters on the Growth and Problems of Modern Cities, the Rise of British Towns, the British System in Operation, and Social Activities of British Towns, in addition to the exhaustive special studies of Glas- gow, Manchester, Birmingham and London. * * * The term Municipal Government, in the United States, says Dr. Shaw, is suggestive of attempts to emanci- pate our great towns from the con- trol of corrupt and inefficient men, to the end that the revenues may be honestly collected and expended and public work properly performed. But in Europe the honesty and the general efficiency of municipal gov- ernment are not seriously in ques- tion anywhere. Municipal govern- ment, from Scotland to Hungary, is exalting the bacteriologist and the sanitary inspector, fostering the kin- dergarten and the technical school, and inquiring anxiously about the housing of the people. This unhap- pily is a fair statement of the case. The problem of the municipal re- former in America is the problem of corruption and incompetence. His energies are mainly mortgaged by the necessity of working to get honest and decent men into office and to break up the ringswhich prey upon the city. In the city councils of England and Germany, the problem of corruption does not exist. Bodies of experi- enced, intelligent and high-minded men, knowing themselves to be such and trusted by the communities as such, are everywhere in the great European cities addressing them- selves to constructive work of the most beneficent character, bringing cleanli- ness and order and beauty where con- tagion and noisomeness and ugliness had tyrannized, and enriching their cities with institutions and opportuni- ties which make life worth living. * * * It is a great mistake to assume that the difference in the municipal situa- tion in Europe and America is ac- counted for by some fundamental difference in the history of the great cities there and here,that the great cities there are old, and here are new, and that our municipal evils are faults of youth and immaturity. The great city is a new thing in the world alto- gether. Few things brought before us by Dr. Shaw are more impressive than the rapidity of the growth of the great European cities. The popula- tion of Paris, now nearly 3,000,000, was only 6oo,ooo at the time of the Revolution, a hundred years ago. London, with a population to-day of 6,ooo,ooo, had then less than a million. Glasgow, now the second city in Great Britain, with a population of 8oo,ooo, had less than 25,000 in 1750 and only 75,000 at the beginning of this century. The population of Manchester, when it was granted a municipal charter in 1838, was only 250,000, it being a city smaller than Cleveland to-day. Fifty years ago Birmingham had i8o,ooo inhabitants. Liverpool, Sheffield, Bradford, Leeds, are, as great cities, entirely modern. Lyons, the largest 256 EDITORS TABLE. town in France apart from Paris, with a population of 450,000, had only 100,- 000 at the opening of the century. Leipzig has doubled in population in the last twenty years, and so has Munich, both growing at a much higher rate than American cities of corresponding size. Hamburg is an interesting city to consider in this study of population, because it can be so well compared with Boston. The population of the two cities in 1875 was almost exactly the same, Hamburg 348,000, Boston 342,- 000. In 1890 Hamburg had 569,000, and Boston 448,000. Hamburg had gained more than 200,000 in fifteen years, and Boston only a little more than 100,000; yet Bostons growth has been considered remarkable. In 1870 New York was a more popu- lous city than Berlin. In i88o Ber- lin had outgrown New York, and in 1890 it still maintained the lead, hav- ing 1,578,794 people as against New Yorks 1,515,301. Chicagos relative gain has been higher; but Berlin in the past twenty-five years has added as many actual new residents as has Chicago. There seems to be an almost un- conquerable delusion in the popular mind, says Dr. Shaw, that our American cities are the only ones which show the phenomenon of rapid growth, and that their newness ex- cuses their failure to provide well for the common necessities of urban life. We should be glad to cite more of the statistics which he has brought to- gether to show that this is a delusion. The reason why we have such bad gov- ernment and such gross abuses in our American cities is not because they have become great more rapidly than cities in Europe, so rapidly that it has been impossible to devise new ma- chinery adequate to the new demands, but because we have not developed a talent or displayed a wisdom in municipal affairs equal to that which we see in Glasgow, Birmingham or Berlin, and because our citizens have not done their duty to their cities. Nothing impresses us more, in these records, than the high character of the personiiel of the European city coun- cils. This is notably true of the Eng- lish and German councils. Of the French councils Dr. Shaw inclines to entertain the view that in tne present decade they have been less substantial and responsible bodies than the coun- cils of the large English and German towns, while far superior to those of American cities of corresponding size. It is not saying that there are not able and upright and broad-minded men in the councils of our great American cit- ies when we say, what it seems to us is undeniable, that in hardly one of them are the men found who are conspicu- ous and representative in the citys commercial, financial, legal, educa- tional and intellectual life, the men whose names are recognized through the country and in the city itself as the citys leading men. These are the men who do sit in the councils of London and Berlin. It has been often said, and Dr. Shaw says it, that the first London council chosen under the new law possessed as high an average of ability and distinction as the House of Commons. Among its members were such well known men as Sir John Lubbock and the Earl of~ Rosebery, Frederic Harrison and John Burns. An analysis of the councils of Birmingham, Manchester and other English cities shows similarly that the councils are made up of men of the best talent and the highest standing in the municipalities. Joseph Chamber- lain was for years a member of the town council of Birmingham before entering Parliament, and the great re- forms in Birmingham in which he was a leader are well known. The councilors are elected for three years, one third of them retiring annu- ally; but as matter of fact they are almost invariably realected. The American custom of government by amateurs does not find favor with Englishmen. Many Americans will read with surprise Dr. Shaws state- ment that he found in the Manchester EDITORS TABLE. 257 council men xvho had served continu- ously for forty-five, forty-two, thirty- seven, thirty-two, twenty-seven, and twenty-four years,very many who had served from ten to twenty years. Such a state of things ought not to be surprising in any city, European or American. When in our own city governments we see experience val- ued and honored thus, a place in the council viewed as a post for high ser- vice instead of a stepping-stone in a course of poor political ambition, then the problem of good city government among us will be far on its way toward being solved. With reference to official places in the municipal administration, it can be said that political or party considera- tions have no weight whatever, are something entirely foreign to the minds of the men entrusted with mu- nicipal control. Men are engaged for the service of the municipal depart- ments purely on grounds of merit and fitness, precisely as they would be en- gaged in ordinary business. There are no local limitations, such as are dominant in our city halls. If there are vacancies in Birmingham depart- ments, men from Liverpool or Leeds are as free to apply for the same as men of Birmingham itself. If a chief of police is wanted, there are likely to be applicants from all parts of the king- dom. In Germany, where more than anywhere else perhaps municipal gov- ernment is a science, the councils con- stantly elect mayors or burgomasters from other cities. The present burgo- master of Berlin was called from Bres- lau, where his remarkable talent for municipal administration had drawn upon him the attention of all Ger- many. It would be well for us if we could put some principle of this sort into operation in America. It would be well for Boston if, when Colonel Waring has got New York thor- oughly clean and its street-cleaning department so thoroughly organized that it can be trusted in the hands of his present lieutenants, he could be called here to inaugurate and perfect the same system. It would be well for Chicago if her people would make Theodore Roosevelt their mayor tor the next four years. * * -~ Seeking in these European records for light on such special reforms as those now being urged by the Boston Municipal League, we find that the bicameral city legislature, so common in America, does not exist in Europe. In the organization of our city govern- ments, we followed the precedent of our national Congress, with its Senate and House of Representatives. It was a foolish imitation, there was no reason for it, and in operation it has proved cumbersome and bad. The city council in England and Germany and France is always a body of a single chamber. We hear of alder- men in London and Manchester and Glasgow; but the aldermen do not constitute a special chamber, sitting apart,they are simply members of the one council, honored by longer terms, and usually serving as chair- men of the more important com- mittees. The mayor, holding office for a single year, is but the councils presiding officer and figure-head; the council as a body is the real govern- ment of the city, acting through its various committees. In this respect alone it does not seem wise at present for America to follow English prece- dent; our reformers are at one in believing in the entrustment of large responsibilities to our mayors. The council, in most English as well as Continental cities, is a larger body than that for which the Boston re- formers ask. The European cities, through varying histories, have ar- rived at something like uniformity in this matter; and perhaps here is a point in which we should respect their experience. Phe great capitals, London, Berlin, Vienna, etc., have almost without exception councils of something more than a hundred members; the large commercial towns usually of from fifty to seventy-five 258 EDITORS TABLE. Birmingham, seventy-two; Glasgow, seventy-eight; Edinburgh, forty-one; Liverpool, Leeds, Sheffield, and most of the large English towns, sixty-four; Dresden, seventy-two; Munich and Leipzig, sixty, etc. * * * Proportional Representation, which seems to our reformers so imperative a need, does not yet obtain in Eng- land; but the need for it is less, be- cause our hard and fast notions of ward representation are not dominant there. If the labor men of London, for instance, want John Burns in the ccunty council, they know that there is some district which will gladly send him thereif not the district in which he lives, then some other. If it were the English fashion, as it is the Ameri- can, says Dr. Shaw, to elect as rep- resentatives of a ward or district only men who lived in that ward or district for the general duties of a municipal council, the district or ward plan would be given up in whole or in part, and councilors would be elected upon a general ticket by the whole city; for the strict ward plan can never result in a representative body of the best type. * * ,~ It is impossible here to enter upon what is of course the most interesting part of Dr. Shaws work, the story of the immense improvements effected in European cities in this time and of the great activities which, formerly left to individuals, are now undertaken by the cities themselves. The marvel- Ions work of the London County Council has been made familiar to all readers of the newspapers. The manner in which the other great Eng- lish cities are now taking into their own hands the management of their gas and electric lighting, as heretofore of their water supply, undertaking the control of their own street railways, providing public baths, laundries, markets, museums and trade schools, is something unexampled in history. iBoston may learn a great lesson from Glasgow in the history of her public dock system. Most of all may we learn lessons from the British cities in the matter of tenement-house reform. Hete is where we have been singu- larly inefficient. Prof. Felix Adler has just said that there has been more talk and less work for the ameliora- tion of the condition of the lodgings of the poor in New York city than in any other crowded locality in the world. Those not familiar with the story should read in Dr. Shaws work how Birmingham and Glasgow, by an investment in each case of $io,ooo,- 000, cleared out seventy or eighty acres of slums, replacing them by handsome streets and squares, and building hundreds of wholesome and attractive tenements for the poor, the city itself remaining the landlord, and let it be notedfinding it a good investment. The London County Council has done a similar work. Into all this we cannot go. We are under obligations to Dr. Shaw for bringing these things together; and to his pages we trust that hundreds of readers will go. Our American cities are surely not without examples of great things done in great ways. The development of the Boston park sys- tem in this time has been a miracle of energy and wisdom. There is not in all Europe a public library compar- able with that of Boston. In the public library system altogether our American cities lead the cities of. Europe. We trust that the successful establishment of the Franklin trade school in Boston will prove an impor- tant step in the development of the trade-school system in American cties. We can here learn much from Furope. But the chief service Europe can render us, through these reports by Dr. Shaw, is that of shaming us for the low calibre and character of the men whom we permit to govern our cities. The hour has struck for sweep- ing reform. The legislatures can help theleadersof reform byprovidingthem with the machinery most favorable to talent, to experience, and to virtue. GREEK ATHLETE. FROM THE STATUE IN THE VATICAN.

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THE NEW ENGLAND MAGAZINE. NEW SERIES. MAY, 1896. VOL. XIV. No. 3. THE OLYMPIAN GAMES. By Williani Sherman Bansemer. HE news of the decision of the Tnt ernatio nal Athletic Con gress, held in May, 1895, in Paris, to re~%s tablish the Olympian games, and to hold the first celebration at Athens, was re- ceived with the greatest enthusiasm by lovers of athletic sports the world over. In Athens itself the joy is unbounded. The Astyl, the semi- official newspaper of the government, says: Athens does herself the honor to receive most hospitably the for- eigners who are coming to the contest; the government, athletic societies, and citizens at large are prepared to offer a most cordial welcome to all comers from a distance. The people have but one voice in thanking the congress for the selection of their city and in declaring that Greece will do her utmost to reproduce the games worthily. While Athens is thus completing preparations for the forthcoming festival, let us turn over the pages of history and view the Olympia of old, gazing upon the greatest athletic contests of the ancient world and of all time. From earliest ages we find that 261 gymnastic games were intimately connected with the Hellenic system of education. Gymnasia were built everywhere, even in the smallest towns, by civil authority, for the physical training of men and boys. No Greek youth at any stage of his life would pass a day without devoting some hours to the systematic development of his body. At the gymnasium men and boys contended in mimic combat, or set themselves to overcome some physical defect or awkwardness. It was their clubhouse. Here all classes met to mix with their circle of friends in talking, in running, in leaping or in boxing, and to enjoy the beautiful sight of the healthy human body in vigorous action. Grave and elderly men, poets, priests and philosophers were not too dignified to lay aside their clothes and enter the contest. So the mass of Greek youth reached a stage of physical perfection unequaled by any other age or nation. He was king among men who was most beautiful in person and fittest for the various contests, and he alone despised who was mean in body or wanting in energy for the conflict. Additional impulse was given to the life of the gymnasia by the establish- ment of great athletic festivals open to all who could prove true Hellenic origin. These contests were held in 262 THE OLYMPIAN GAMES. many Grecian cities; but the most important by far was that solemnized every fonrth year in the province of Elis, at Olympia, a place sacred to the worship of Zeus. We are told that the Olympian games were founded by Hercules him- self. He and his five brothers amused themselves by rnnning in the conrse. In those days fleetness in running was valued as among the highest attain- ments. Endymion insisted that his three sons should contend for the suc- cession to his throne by rnnning races, while he acted as jndge. It is prettily fabled of Atalanta, swiftest of mortals, that she would marry him only who could ontstrip her in the race. For a long time the men at Olympia contended in running only; bnt from time to time, as athletes from the farthest parts of the Hellenic world began to appear, each the champion of his own province, the contests became more formidable and important. Boxing, wrestling and other exercises were added, until Olympia snrpassed the world in the magnificence of her festivals. Pindar, the lyric poet, tells us that the Olympian games hold the same rank among other festivals that water holds among the elements, and gold among the gifts of fortune. Wherefore, he continues, 0, my soul, if thou art inclined to sing of games, it would be as absnrd to think of any other than the Olympian, as to look for stars in the sky when the snn is shining in his meridian glory. To view the Olympian games at their best, let us consider them in the age between the Persian invasion of Greece and the Grecian invasion of Persia, a time when Greece had reached the zenith of her greatness, and was a mighty name among the nations of the earth. The recent excavations made at Olympia by the German arch~eologists enable us of the present day not only to study the scene of the greatest of Greek athletic contests, but to trace the celebration from hour to hour. We can see the hill of Cronin where the spectators crowded, gaze on the fair and fertile fields of lEllis, wade through the Olympian dust, feel the merciless Olympian sun beat hot upon our heads, and sympathize with the THE PLAIN OF OLYMPIA. THE OLYMPIAN GAMES. 263 ancients who were denied a head covering on those gala days. We can wander to the threshold of the Temple of Zens, pass throngh the sacred groves and stand at the starting point of the runners of the Stadium. Then, taking the old Greek historians as our gnides, we can follow in their foot- steps, and ont of broken columns, fonndations of demolished buildings, dilapidated pillars, we can conjure forth the beautiful Olympia as in her palmiest days, with her glorious temples, her overflowing treasures, her masterly statues of gods and heroes of the combat. We can fancy the solitude peopled with combatants and spectators, crowds cheering, shonting, jeering, as crowds do now when various emotions sweep over them. Once in every fonr years the heralds from Olympia proclaimed through all the cities of Greece a sacred truce. which was to last for a month. From the eleventh till the seventeenth day this great festival of Zens was cele- brated. The athletes had passed ten months of hard training in the gym- nasia. All that science and practice could do for them had been done, until they had reached the highest stage of physical development. War, business and pleasure were alike abandoned, and all roads leading to Olympia were daily thronged with an ever increasing crowd. By sea, by land, from all parts of Greece, and FROM THE STATUE IN THE VATICAN. from the most distant conntries, multi- tudes were hastening to the festival. All the states sent embassies, who appeared in the utmost possible splendor. The host of spectators could not be accommodated in Olympia nor the surrounding cities, so that buildings were erected, hnts built, tents pitched, traders of all kinds gathered; and thus suddenly arose a city full of busy life, which vanished as VIEW IN ANCIENT OLYMPIA. DISCOBOLUS IN REPOSE. 264 THE OLYMPIAN GAMES. soon as the games were over, for no man might dwell on the consecrated IN THE BERLIN MUSEUM. ground except the priests, their servants and the watchmen. Not only the Greeks of Hellas proper are here, but we see people from Cyrene with the hot blood and dark complexion of Africa, Grecian colonists from Massalia, who in dress and blood are half Gauls, foreign traders who resort hither to expose their merchandise for sale. The rich ride on horseback with a train of slaves, or are transported in litters on the shoulders of sturdy bearers; the poor march in troops, carrying their frugal provisions with them. Here is an lonian, flaunting his richly em- broidered robe in the sunlight, to the disgnst of a Corinthian, who is dis- playing his long list of ancestors while the lonian laughs at his pride. There is a musician carrying his precious lyre, and a sculptor eager to secure orders for the statues of victors. Of all the stirring throng, the most inter- THE TEMPLE OF ZEUS AT OLYMPIA, EAST END. HEAD OP ZEUS FEOM OLYMPIA. THE OLYMPIAN GAMES. 265 ested, without doubt, are the friends and relatives of the athletes and the masters by whom they were taught. There is one noteworthy fact in con- nection with this assembly, which in our day would rob an athletes triumph of half its glory. Not a xvoman is to be seen. Women were excluded by law, probably on account of the nudity of the performers; and woe unto her who should violate this law! The punishment was death by being thrown from the summit of a rock. An instance is on record of a woman who was detected at the games dis- guised in male attire. When, how- ever, the judges discovered that her father, her brothers and sons were heroes of the combat, she was granted full forgiveness on the ground that such an act was pardonable in a mem- ber of so illustrious a family. The judges appointed to conduct the festival were between eight and twelve in number. Their first busi- ness was to examine the candidates. Duty to Zeus required that no person not of pure Grecian blood, no one who had been convicted of crime, no mem- ber of a city which had incurred divine wrath, should be admitted. Candi- dates had to prove that they had undergone a regular course of training for ten months, and that for thirty days preceding the festival they had practised under the eyes of the judges themselves. After that their names were placed on a xvhite board and sus- pended at various points in Olympia. It was then too late to withdraw. He who, when the time came, shrank from the contest was heavily fined and ever afterwards branded as a coward. The central point of religious inter- est was the Altis or sacred grove. It contained the Temple of Zeus, that of Hera, the great elliptical altar, and innumerable statues. The most important building of. all, in a material as well as a religious sense, was the Temple of Zeus. Though the visitor at Olympia would INTERIOR OF THE TEMPLE OF ZEUS. THEATRE. PHILIPPETON. HERAIGE. HILL OF ERONOS. TEMPLE OF ZEUS. STADION. EXEDNA OF HEEGOES ATTIKOS. GATE OF PEOCESSIONS. OLYMPIA, RESTORU). GYMNASIUM. THE OLYMPIAN GAMES. no doubt be entranced by the magnificence of its architecture and the beauty of the basso-relievos which adorned its pediments, he would hasten to enter and gaze with awe upon the statue and throne of Zeus the chief glory of Olym- pia, the masterpiece of Phidias and the art of sculpture, reckoned by the ancients as one of the seven wonders of the world. It is thought that the figure was made of gold and ivory. In the right hand was a Victory, and in the left a sceptre. At the feet of Zeus was inscribed: I am the work of Phidias, the Athenian, son of Char- mides. North of the Temple of Zeus was the Temple of Hera, the Her~eum, built in nearly the same s le as the former, but smaller and more ancient. The god- dess stood in the same rela- tion to the women of Greece as the god stood to the men. The men held athletic contests in honor of Zeus, and the virgin~ ran races in honor of Hera. This temple also contained a master- piece of the art of sculpturethe statue of Hermes and the infant Dionysius, by Praxiteles. This statue, of world-wide fame, has been preserved to us, and casts of it are everywhere to be found. The space between these two temples was filled by a grove of trees and statues of victors. This spot was of the greatest interest to athletes, each fondly hoping to obtain a place here. It was their temple of glo and immortality. The spectators resorted here to gaze upon these monuments of victors, to hear the recital of their com- bats, and with transport to point out to each other those whom they could rank among their fellow-citizens. Here we see the statue of Cle- omedes, who had the misfortune in wrestling to slay his adversary; conse- quently the judges withheld from him the crown,which affected him so that he lost his reason. His friends and countrymen, however, were allowed to erect this statue to his memory. Next comes the statue of an athlete named Timanthus, to obtained victory by his skill with the bow. As age advanced, he found one day that his hand was losing its cun- ning, whereupon he prepared his own funeral pile and perished in the flames. Further on is the figure of a mare named the Wind on account of her wonderful speed. One day, while running the course her rider fell to the ground; whereupon she continued the race, doubled the pillar, and stopped in THE DISCOBOLUS OF MYRON. FROM THE STATUE IN THE VATICAN. 268 THE OLYMPIAN GAMES. front of the judges, who decided that, having won the race for her master, she should be given the palm. So she is here represented as the partner of his victory. There is the boxer Glaucus, of whom the story is told that when young he was one day tilling the MONUMENT 0 LYSICRATES, ground, and his father saw with astonishment that when the plough- share became loose he drove it in with his hand, as he would have made use of a hammer. This delighted the old man so that he brought him to~ the combat at Olympia. While the youth was boxing with his antagonist, he was on the point of yielding, when his father cried: Give him the plough- stroke, son. The youth followed the advice, felled his adversary with the blow, and became victor. The sacred precinct was shut off from the rest of Olympia by four stone walls. At the northeast corner of the Altis was the Olympian course, where the contests were held. The course was divided into two parts, the Stadium, where the foot races and most of the combats took place, and the Hippodrome, where the horse and chariot races were held. A barrier separated them; and both were deco- rated with statues, altars and other monuments. The games opened in the evening with sacrifices. The first sacrifice was offered on the grand altar of Zeus, TIlE OLYMPIAN GAMES, THE OLYlVIPIffi GA LBS. a6p which was adorned with festoons and garlands of flowers and sprinkled with the blood of slanghtered oxen. The ceremonies were continned nntil night was far advanced, and were performed to the sonnd of instrnments and by the light of the moon. At midnight, as soon as these cere- monies were finished, most of the spectators went instantly to take their places aronnd the conrse, the better to enjoy the spectacle of the games which vere to commence at break of day. By su. rise, every part of the tadium every point of the Cronin hill along its side, was thronged with people. No one dared to leave his place, or it would be lost; and they stood there bareheaded and in the deep dust while the day grew hotter and hotter. Only when the sun went down and there vas no more light to continne the contest, did the people leave for their tents. It is impossible to determine the exact order of these com- bats, as acconnts vary, and probably the con- tests varied also in dif- ferent ages. The gen- eral rule see ~s to have been, to appropriate the first day to foot races. When the jndges are seated at the goal, dressed in the insignia of their office, a herald proclaims: Let the runners advance! The athletes instantly appear and arrange themselves behind the rope stretched to re- strain their impatience, while the herald re- cites their names and the places from whence they come. We do not see here imply a number of men contending for a lew olive leaves, but freemen intrusted with the glory or disgrace of their country, exposing themselves to the alternative of con- tempt or honor in the presence of thou- sands of witnesses, The trumpet sounds; the rope is dropped; and off they set, straining ever; nerve to make the goal. Some run so swifth that they scarcely leave the impres- of thei feet; some fall upon a slipper piece f ground and are out of the race. Hope and fear are depicted on the anxious faces of the spectators, bile they watch o e Aeadily advance in front of the others. He reaches the goal, wins the victory, and the result of ten months training is uecide . The herald proclaims his name, and it is reklioed by thousands of throats while the vanquished run off to escape the jeers of the crowd. The victors were not crowned until the last day of the festival; but at the THE VEESTLERS. FROM HE STATUE IN THE U IZI. THE HERMES OF PEAXITELES. 270 FROM THE TE. IPLE OF HERA AT OLYMPIA. IN THE BERLIN MUSEUM. THE OLYMPIAN GAMES. 271 end of each race or contest, they re- ceived a temporary palm. Everyone thronged to congratulate them, to lift them to their shoulders, and show them to the crowd, their relatives and countrymen shedding tears of joy amid the applauding multitude. The second day was generally de- voted to the pentathion, which of all contests was the most complicated. It comprised no less than five competi- tions, and in order to secure victory it was necessary to win three out of five. It consisted of leaping, throwing the spear or javelin, hurling the discus, running and wrestling. The first three were the essential parts of the contest; foot-racing and wrestling having special days set apart for them were only added to the others to make victory more decisive. The leaping was probably what we call the long jump, measured by distance along the ground. Enor- mous leaps are mentioned by the Greeks; the greatest is that attributed to Phayllus of Croton, who is said to have cleared a distance of fifty-five feet. Among moderns, the longest jumps recorded do not attain to even half this distance. The discus or quoit was round and flat, made of stone or metal, sometimes weighing as much as twelve pounds. A skilful athlete, by putting his whole weight into the throw, would often hurl it more than a hundred feet. Of the spear or javelin not much is recorded, From vase representa- tions, we may judge that it was thrown with a thong, which gave it a rotatory motion, thereby increasing the steadi- ness of its flight. The pentathion was especially esteemed, as it required a man to be skilled in many forms of exercise; and those who distinguished themselves in this contest were accounted the most beautiful and accomplished men of Greece. On the third day came the horse and chariot races. These were held in the Hippodrome. Only the very rich entered these lists, as they involved a great outlay. Candidates for these victories were not obliged to contend in person, but could trust their fate to RCAvATIONs AT OLYMPIA. HEAD OF A BOXER. FROM AR OLYMPIAN BRONZE. 272 THE OLYMPIAN GAMES. able horsemen trained for the purpose. Accordingly we find among the list of victors several kings of Syracuse, Philip of Macedon, Pausanias, king of Laced~emon, as well as several Grecian ARMED RUNNER (BY AGASIAS) IN THE LOUVER, cities. As can be readily imagined, such rivals excited the warmest emula- tion. The first race of the day was the horse race. Let us direct our atten- tion to a brass dolphin placed at the entrance of the lists, also to an eagle iii the middle of the barrier. Presently we see the dol- phin sink and hide itself in the ground, and the eagle rise and spread its wings. It is the signal. A mighty shout is heard from the spectators, and the horses dart forward into the Hippodrome. They pass almost with the rapidity of lightning, some slackening, some in- creasing their speed, till one, with a masterful ef- fort, leaves behind his mortified antagonists, reaches the goal, and is declared victor. Next in order come the chariot races. These are the grandest of all. In one race the chariots are drawn by two horses, in another by colts, and in the last and most splendid by four horses. Let us join the spectators who are waiting to see the su- preme event of the day GYMNASTIC EXERCISES. I I the four~horse chariot race. Within the barrier, sev- chariots era1 magnifiCent s. The are kept in by rope persons driving them are dressed in the lightest stnffs. Their steeds, whose ardor can scarcely be restrained, attract every eye by their beauty or be- cause of victories already won. As soon as the sig- nal is given~ they advance and form one front at the 5tarting place. In an in- stant we see them in a cloud of dnst, crossing and jostling one another, rac- ing along with such rapid itythat the eye can scarcel)T follow. On the way round, they pass the statne of the genius who inspires terror, and here their speed is donbled it is still fnrther increased by the shrill sonnd of the trum- pet, which tells them they are near a pillar famous for accidents. This must be passed twelve times, for they are re- quired to mal~e twelve circuits of the course. At each time o~ pas5ing~ some accident happens~ which excites pity or jnsulting laughter from the as- sembly. Some chariots are hurried out of the race, others dashed to pieces and the course covered with the fragments~ adding danger to the race. At length but four competitors remain. They are running the course for the last time. One of them a Thes salonian, strikes against the pillar of misfortune; his horses fall ~~tangled in the reins, and roll over those of a Bceotian who is close beside him. The ~uippodrOme resounds with shouts and piercing cries. Mean- 273 TL1i~ FROM 11ERCUI~~EI~ YR TOE NAPLES MUSEUM 274 TITLE OLYMPIAN GAMES. while the txvo others, a Corinth- ian and a The- ban, seize the favorable mo- ment, urge their fiery steeds, and Zeus be praised! pass the goal. But, alas for the Cor- inthian! the Theban leads him by a length, and wins not only the race but immortality. The remaining exercises are those which require more strength than the preceding. They are wrest- ling, boxing and the pancration. It is not known exactly in what order these came; and as brutality seems to have entered into each to a greater or less extent, they are not so pleasing to consider. The wrestling of the Greeks was as full of tricks and feints as that of modern times. As they wrestled quite naked and rubbed themselves with oil before entering the lists, it must have been no easy matter to get a hold, and the ancients naturally thought a good grasp the better part of the battle. Victory was won by three throws, and no blows were allowed. In boxing, the exercise was con- fined to striking. The athletes had their heads covered with brass caps, and their closed hands were bound with a sort of gauntlet formed of leather thongs, probably intended to protect the hand or moderate the force of the blow, like our boxing gloves. One of the chief aims of the boxer at Olympia was to force his adversary to face the sun, which was practically blinding to him. The contests were often very violent, and sometimes it is said both victor and vanquished were carried off the field of battle with not a feature of their faces to be distin- guished. Peculiar to the Greeks was the pancration, a mixture of boxing and wrestling. It was fought partly standing, partly as a rough-and- tumble fight on the ground. We are told of a celebrated champion, Sos- tratus, famous for the number of prizes he had won and for the wonder- ful strength and skill with which he procured them. As soon as he THE PUGILISTS. FROM THE BAS-RELIEF IN LATERAN MUSEUM. THE NIKE OF PATONIOS. IN THE BERLIN MUSEUM. THE OLYMPIAN GAMES. 275 appeared, most of the contest- ants yielded up all pPetensions to the crown, and those who faced him found at the first trial that he would squeeze and twist their fingers with such violence as to render them en- tirely useless. In the pancration, victory was not decided until one raised his finger, thereby declar- ing himself un- able, from pain or fatigue, to continue the contest. Rather than do this an athlete would often conceal his pain under a fierce and menacing countenance and fight until he was killed outright, thereby preventing his adversary from obtain- ing the crown and himself from suffer- ing the tortures of defeat. When the toils and agonies of the Olympian contest were over, there followed the reward of the victors. The fifth day of the festival was set apart for this. The judges, followed by the victors and the host of spec- tators, repaired early to the senate house. Here the choruses sang a hymn composed to exalt the glory of the heroes. Then a herald arose and proclaimed the name and city of each victor, together with the contest in which he had been victorious. The athletes then presented themselves to the chief magistrate, who placed on the head of each a crown of olive leaves, cut with a golden knife from the sacred tree which grew behind the Temple of Zeus. Then followed acclamations of joy so great that the victor seemed to have obtained the summit of human glory. After the ceremony, so exalting to the victors, followed a round of feast- ing and sacrifice. Those of the athletes who were rich kept up a series CHARIOT RACE. RUNNING AND JUMPING. 6 THE OLYMPIAN GAMES. of banquets for themselves and their friends; those who were poor had but to choose which of their townsfolk they cared to honor, and immediately a feast was prepared for them. Poets vied with one another in writing odes to their honor and to the honor of their ancestors. Sculptors were given orders to make statues of them in bronze or stone, to be placed in the Altis for the study of future genera- tions. As they moved about, they were everywhere the centre of admir- ing crowds, followed by the eyes of all. Honors did not end here. The homeward march was a triumphal procession. Preceded and followed games was wrought by the decline of Greece itself. Though they long survived Grecian independence, and for several centuries under Roman rule continued to be celebrated with much pomp and splendor, the day of their real greatness was gone long before. In course of time, victory at Olympia became a thing to be con- tended for by special methods, instead of being the crown of a beneficial career of training. From being an element in the life of all, athletic sports became the whole life of a special class; and by degrees the professional came in and the gentlemanly spirit died out. Many men trained for the by a numerous train, each approached his native city in a stately chariot. All the population crowded out to meet him who brought such honors home. According to ancient usage, in some places a breach was made in the city wall, so that the hero might pass in by a way not made vulgar by other foot- steps. In some cities he was even exempt from taxation; in others he lived always at the public expense; and in Sparta, in time of war, the place of honor and of greatest danger was specially reserved for him. Every- where the title of Olympian victor insured its possessor such attention and respect, that it constituted the chief happiness of his after life. Such was the Olympian festival at its best. The degradation of the games in order that they might after- wards make a living as professional trainers, or with the hope that they might secure the substantial prizes of money offered by various Asiatic cities where imitations of the great Olym- pian games were established. The games continued to be celebrated, however, until the seventh year of the reign of the Emperor Theodosius, A. D. 394, when the Christianity of the Romans put an end to them. The advantages of these national contests were manifold. Men repre- senting the most distant nations and the most dissimilar views and customs mingled in familiar intercourse; ora- tors, poets, philosophers, assembled here, sure of obtaining an audience; and intellects were sharpened by con- RACE OF HOPLITES. LIFE IN NEW EATGLAND TWO CENTURIES AGO. 277 tact with new thoughts, new inven- tions, new discoveries. The games encouraged the cultivation of manly exercise on the part of all, which no doubt contributed to the freshness, healthiness and vigor of the Greek mind. The poets they produced have been the ornament of Greek literature and the admiration of all ages. The impetus given to art was such as to make Greek sculpture unsurpassed by that of any other time or country; her statues of gods and living men of the age are among the greatest gifts of Greece to civilization. When we consider the duration of its existence, the history of Olympia is amazing. That athletic games should have continued for more than a thousand years; that a nation com- posed of petty states always at war with one another, should agree to suspend hostilities in order to attend the foot race; that the winner of a course of two hundred yards should be the foremost man in Greece; that the name of such a man should be lauded by posterity, when poets and statesmen were forgotten ,is without parallel in the history of mankind. Athletic contests have appeared in all lands and in all ages, but in magnitude and magnificence these ancient Olym- pian games stand supreme. GLIMPSES OF LIFE IN NEW ENGLAND TWO CENTURIES AGO. By William B. Weeden. 0-DAY we read newspapers, eat and sleep, as we travel, talk over wires by an electric current, and carry on our social doings in the bustle of change and the glare of publicity. In the New England which was an offshoot of the old England, life was very different two centuries ago. One slow and steady day was like the other, and people jogged on from one generation to another, hardly knowing whether there was a Japan or Corea and caring less what happened in those distant regions. But the social life and the individuals composing and creating it differed more from the life prevailing now, than any superficial indications would show. Society, government, religion, were all developed according to the time, and the social perspective had features of its own, which engraved themselves upon the character of the people. Matters of great importance now were either unknown then, or if ob- served became of little consequence in the atmosphere which enveloped our Puritan ancestors. On the other hand, things which our changed society would consider of the least consequence were in the ancestral mind such important factors that they absorbed the attention of government and people. We can hardly conceive of town authorities busying themselves about the mere talk of private persons, even if the utterance concerned administration or government, much less if it was simply criticism on the manners or customs of town officers. But the authorities in the town of Saco, in 1667, fined a man for saying that Major Phillips horse is as lean as an Indian dog. If the acts of the Celestial Majesty at Pekin, or of the Mikado in Japan, did not affect the worthy Puritans in the wilds of Maine, they had sufficient thought for the dignity of Major Phillips. The dignity of the whole a~8 LIFE IN NEW ENGLAND TWO CENTURIES AGO. community was concerned in the ele- vation of the Major, a leading citizen and personage of high rank, as the insignia of rank manifested them- selves in those days; the aroma of magisterial solemnity, official prestige, Puritan decorum, extended outward from the person of the Majorpossi- ble commandant of the militiaand enveloped the lean ribs and scrawny body of the poor horse that bore this awful personage. Massachusetts, in its Pilgrim foun- dation at Plymouth, in its Puritan settlement at the Bay, gave the most distinctive direction to the making of our beloved New England. The great rebel and outlaw, Roger Will- iams, in the little Plantations of Providence, laid the foundations of a state, narrow in territory, which con- tained an idea larger than New Eng- land, and larger than the continent which gave our American forefathers their home. But Connecticut was the most homogeneous and naturally developed Puritan community. Later renderings of history have emphasized the fact that there were many powerful and conflicting forces arrayed in the settlements of Massachusetts Bay. The banishment of Williams, the per- secution of the Quakers, the oppres- sion of the Baptists, were manifesta- tions of the seething religious and social forces which rent the body politic of Puritan Boston. Connecticut had a much smoother course of political and social develop- ment than Massachusetts or Rhode Island. Her larger bodies of settlers went out from the older colony, agree- ing to differ from the ruling powers of the Bay. The great organizing power of Thomas Hooker and his commanding good sense soon brought comparative order to the democracies of the towns in the valley of the Con- necticut. That the colony lived under her first charter for about a century and a half, quietly and with hardly any ruffling of constitutional changes, shows the even and orderly tenor of her way. I am not comparing her institutions, for better or for worse, with those of either of her neighbors. I remark simply that here was a com- munity developing itself naturally; people and laws, religious belief and social custom, all worked together to develop a singularly prosperous and harmonious community. Hardly any time in the experience of the New England colonists is more interesting than that which gave life and activity to the second generation of Puritan men and women. An ini- tial point in colonial life may be fixed at 1663. The Navigation Acts of Charles II, which broke the commer- cial power of the Netherlands and transferred the white-winged ships across the channel to England, have been treated by old-fashioned histo- rians as a prime grievance to the American colonies. The plain facts ran in a contrary direction. The political importance of our Revolution was so great that American historians felt obliged to delve far and away back in the sources of colonial history to make out a legitimate case against King George the Third. Very meagre knowledge of economic prin- ciples and yet more scanty investiga- tion of economic sources tended to mislead the historic muse in the same direction. In fact, the Navigation Acts were a great boon to New Eng- land especially. She built ships cheaply, sailed them sagaciously, loaded them with her own products eagerly demanded by the whole world under the new conditions of com- merce, then often sold vessel and outfit to bring home anchors, cordage and sails for new ventures. The restric- tions to English bottoms under the acts were vexatious, but they did not retard the tremendous outgrowth of homestead industries which spread over the littoral shores, advanced up the rivers, and carried ship-building or its effects into all the farmsteads of a self-supporting people. A ship built and sold was a virtual exchange of pork, Indian corn, fish, lumber~ homespun woollens, for English LIFE IN NEW ENGLAND TWO CENTURIES AGO. 279 goods, sugar, wines and all the luxu- des of a more cultured life. I dwell on this, because it was the basis of social progress and the influence which bent colonial life from a narrow, hard existence, into the better nourished and more elegant living of the eighteenth century. The conditions of living constrained and controlled the movements and manners of the people. A more developed system of land settlement and community building prevailed. The towns from 1630 to 1640 got under way as they could. Now there xvas an organized force in the General Court directing and affording basis for the regular structure of towns. Take Worcester, for example. Quinsigamond, begun in 1669, had been swept away by Philips war. A few settlers had gone out there, taking their minister, that they might not live like lambs in a large place. In 1684 a company of undertakers headed by Daniel Henchman ex- ploited the new settlement. The plantation was divided into 480 lots, of which 400 were to bear charges and 8o were to be free of rates; 200 lots ~~ere allotted to Henchman and the undertakers, and 200 lots were to be disposed of to settlers. The 8o free lots were assigned to Daniel Gookin for procuring the grant (hear it not, ye men of the lobby!) also for the minis- try, school and master, training and burial places, saw mill and grist mill, for useful trades, for a fulling-mill, etc. A central square or citadel was laid out, where the settlers were to live on their home lots, the above mentioned divisions being the fields for agricul- ture. In this centre was the meeting house, cold as the bleak winds of Wachusett could make it, and two fire rooms, which were constructed in the very beginning, being rude club-houses used before the ordi- nary or inn was ready for public resort. Such rooms were common throughout New England as adjuncts to the house of worship. Severe and constrained as the Sab bath meetings were, they furnished the chief entertainment and delight of the toiling families. With the great and Thursday lecture, they furnished forth the joys of this life and adum- bratecl the glories of the life to conie. The meeting was a social as well as religious and theological manifesta- tion. At a later day, when clothes were more elaborate and abundant, bride and groom stood upduring sermon time as it is recordedex- pressly to show off their brave apparel. And they dressed more richly accord- ing to the means of the eighteenth century, than people do nowadays. Gossip was dearer than the stale jokes of newspaper wits, and when the scat- tered families met before the blazing logs of the social room, in the noon in- terval of strenuous worship, they had a good time. Lunches were warmed and the hearty flip made to sizzle, as it was stirred by the communal poker which glowed from these genial Sab- bath embers. Within the meeting-house, New England colonial life manifested itself. Nowhere and at no time have the tendencies toward aristocracy and aristocratic distinction and regulation declared themselves more clearly than in these simple communities. The seating of the meeting, as it was called, the definite arrangement of the con- gregation, was quite as difficult a pro- cess as the ceremonies of a Pumper nickel court. All through the next century it occupied the attention and energies of the best citizens, and some- times convulsed the social being of whole parishes into disputes and bitter legal contests. At first the floor of the meeting-house was generally seated, or partially so. Pews were gradually introduced, some belonging to the congregation and assigned to individ- uals, and some being built and owned personally, according to vote of the society. Large, small, square, oblong, seated on three sides or on one, pan- elled in all sizes of oak or pine, these enclosures were veritable castles of Yankee notions. Sometimes balus 8o LIFE IN NEW ENGLAND TWO CENTURIES AGO. trades, with small columns of varied patterns, embodied the importance of the individual owners. A chair in the centre of the square pews was placed for the head of a family. Often a cor- ner pew was lifted high above the stairs, nearly to the ceiling, and was occupied by the blacks. The congregations were seated by committees, though occasionally the town meeting directly prescribed this important classification. Seven ranks or divisions were common and some- times these extended to fifteen. Then there were especial distinctions for trustees, justices, and subscribers of 40s. per annum toward the church rates. Pew No. i was for subscribers of 30s. in one instance, and, thus grad- ing downward to No. 6, which contained nine-shilling contributors. No. 7 contained young men, No. 8 was for boys. Then the feminine element began in No. 9, with ministers widows and wives and subscribers of 40s. But the classification was in no wise limited by considerations of money alone. Dignity, age and estate were often enumerated as waymarks and guides for the difficult work of the commit- tees. At the table were the highest and most privileged seats. In one instance no women were permitted to sit there except Col. Smiths Lady, nor any womankind.* Mark the nicety of these distinctions, and hoxv the an- gelic tempers of the Puritan dames must have been ruffled, when the full majesty of Sister Smith passed up to the foreseat and left them pinned down by the lower pegs of democratic equality, which was unequal. Fre- quently new plans of arrangement were brought out as often as once in three or four years. The committee classified, the minis- ter preached and taught, the elders counselled; but the tithing-man was the omnipotent and omnipresent em- blem of Puritan authority. One was appointed for about ten families, and these divisions were sometimes de- noted the tithing-mens squadrons. * The italics are from the original record. They helped to catechise the people and overlooked their living in their homes. Nor was this a trifling or perfunctory duty for the observers. The slightest breaches of conduct or of decorum and mannersaccording to the severe, conventional notions of the timewere made matters of public discipline. In the long and tedious services of the meeting-house, these surviving beadles had full sway over temporal conduct. They were the fingers of ecclesiastical authority, which stretched over and into the per- sonal presence of every member of the congregation. Woe unto the mis- chievous boy or the unlucky dog that brought down the vials of the wrath of these chosen vessels of the Lord! They swept their officious course through the ranks of the heedless or drowsy sinners, full of intermeddling consequence. Many had long white wands, a knob at one end, a foxtail or foot at the other. They rapped the sleeper or titillated him with the dainty brush, as the case might require severe or soft treatment. Generally the congregation was summoned by the roll of a drum. Votes of the town were often recorded, by which the drummer was engaged to beat the drum twice upon Lordes Dayes and Lecture Dayes upon the meeting-house. In all the para- phernalia and scenic arrangement of a colonial religious service, nothing would affect a modem observer more strangely than the music. The hymn or psalm was deaconed off, that is the lines were read by a leader, then sung by the congregation without any in- strumental accompaniment. A pitch- pipe was an alarming innovation. When viols and organs were intro- duced later on, the commotion was tremendous. Even in our century, the tradition runs that when the double- bass was first twanged in the First Baptist Church at Providence, a mother in Israel swung open her pew door, balanced her petticoat with thumb and finger, then capered down the aisle, saying: If they are going to LIFE IN NEW ENGLAND TWO CENTURIES AGO. 281 fiddle, I am going to dance. The J)salm was given out from the worst poetic version ever made by civilized or barbaric minstrels, the Bay Psalm Book. Judge Sewall in his quaint diary, which brings the Puritan life before us so vividly, frequently records a bridal gift of this book, a choice morsel bound neatly in Kids leather 35. 6d. Some of the doctrines em- balmed in the rhyme were horrible; here is a specimen of the twaddle: Myrrh Aloes and Cassias smell All of thy garments had, Out of yvory pallaces Whereby they made thee glad. Sung to the gloomy tune of Wind- sor, such music might aggravate the torments of the damned; how it could encourage and soothe those excellent saints, is matter of mystery belonging to the seventeenth century. Almost all the larger festivities and social entertainments centred about the church life and involved solid eat- ing and drinking. On a great occa- sion at Lynn in 1682, the tables were set on the threshing-floor of a large barn. One Mr. Gerrish was a parson of such merry mood that he kept ye end of ye table whereby he sat in right jovial humour. Finally his more serious brother, Mr. Shepard, was scandalized by a sheeps eye~~ or actual wink, thrown out, as he sup- 1)Osed, from the jovial Gerrish to one of the maidens at another table in a raised gallery. He remonstrated with his too susceptible friend. On investi- gation, it proved that the erring glance was a dodge of the eye avoiding the hayseeds flying about, rather than a palpable wink with malice afore- thought. Thus was maintained the severity of Puritan decorum. Ordinations brought out the whole strength of the religious life of the community and included various social functions. Ministers and peo- ple gathered from far and near, giving these occasions all the characteristics of a social festival. We get a glimpse now and then of the rude but honest and hearty life prevailing among the rustics of the time. The ordination services were very long and compli- cated. Once a youth wearied by the heads of discourses,thirteenthly, and in conclusion,by the discordant music and the severe constraint, saw a pretty maiden for the first time. The darker the terrors of sermon and charge, the more peach-like glowed the bloom of her cheek, the more win- some became the gentle glance of her eye. He gazed and suffered, he waited and endured, until the long benediction let them all go. Then rushing through the crowd, he grap- pled and clasped the inamorata in his arms. Now I have got ye, you jade, I have, I have ! Cupid prevailed over the lowly hills and valleys of New England as readily as he controlled high Olympus, and a marriage fol- lowed this hasty but honorable courtship. It would be easy to fill pages with interesting incidents from the vigorous life of those times. But incidents lose themselves in the general perspective. New England in itself, whole and com- plete, will always interest the thought- ful. The people were greatly con- strained according to our ideas of liberty, whether that liberty of thinking and willing be developed religiously, politically or socially. But the great majority of the people got what the ruling tendency, the living conscience, the effective desire, of that majority wanted; and in getting their effective want, they worked out institutions which proved of the greatest value to the whole country. RUNNING THE GAUNTLET. By E. C. Plummer. HE New Year of 1863 came with discourage- ments and gloomy forebodings to the loyal people of the United States. The battle of Fredericks- burg, so terrible not only for the heavy losses sustained, but also for the shock which public confidence had received through this repulse of Burnsides great army, had just been fought. Sherman had met de- feat at Chickasaw Bluffs, whither he had gone to co6perate with Grant, who was at that time leading his forces on what even strong-hearted Unionists believed was a foolhardy expedition which could only result in the sacrifice of many precious lives under the walls of impregnable Vicksburg. Lord Russell had for- mally announced for his government that England denied all liability for injuries which might have been, or might be, inflicted by the Confederate cruiser Alabama, which, since the fifth of the preceding September, had been destroying American shipping; while the last night of the old year had seen the foundering of the famous Monitor, which the enthusiasm engendered by her victory over the Merrimac had caused the people to look upon as the bulwark of the navy and the guardian of the merchant marine. As a result of the stout defence made by the South, many a staunch friend of the Union found himself at this time won- dering whether the war could ever be brought to a successful close; while this flat refusal of Great Britain to make good any of the losses caused by cruisers built in her yards, at a time when the conflict at home made it im- possible for the United States to en- force her demands for justice, caused many merchants to withdraw from 282 shipping; and the single fact that before the close of this year the people of Bath had transferred three million dollars worth of vessels to European flags shows clearly how marked were the effects produced by Lord Russells words and the presence of those com- merce destroyers. It was at this time of fear and national reverses that the new ship Jennie Eastman, Captain John R. Kelley, left Bath on the morning of January 8, to sail directly through the cruising grounds of these destructive vessels, in an attempt to carry supplies to New Orleans,where General Banks was then organizing his Texas expedi- tion. The captain of the Eastman was a Yankee whose home from boyhood had been the sea. He had sailed all oceans, winning his promotions by merit alone, and it was on account of his thorough knowledge of the waters he must navigate, as well as for his known intrepidity and fertility of re- source, that he was selected to com- mand this ship on her first and what many freely predicted would be her last voyage. The fact that she was to carry supplies to the enemy was sure to be known to the Confederates; the latest reports had shown the Ala- bama to be in Cuban waters; and a sharp watch was sure to be kept for a craft whose mission was such as that of the Eastman. Therefore some of the more timid friends of the captain suggested that under such circum- stances he would be justified in pro- tecting himself by the English flag, as many captains had done. But the emphatic reply of the commander was that he had never yet sailed under any flag but that of the Union, and if he couldnt bring his ship to port under those same stars and stripes hed let her go to the bottom with him. But everything that might add to RUNNING THE GAUNTLET. a8~ the safety of the ship on her danger- ous voyage was done. Long-boomed studding sails, such as were used by racing clippers, were supplied for the yards, that she might not be left help- less in the light airs of the Gulf; no deck load was carried; and the bales of hay, which formed a part of the cargo, were put into powerful presses at Bath and still further reduced in size that they might be stowed the more snugly; so that when she left the Kennebec, she was in fine sailing trimloaded, but not over-burdened. In twelve days she had entered the danger beltthe waters south of the Bahamas. Swinging around Abaco, whose southeast point, with its great aperture through which the waters beyond can be seen as through a window, makes a famous landmark known to sailors as the Hole in the Wall, the ship took the ordinary course to the westward; but instead of turning to the south again as soon as the Isaacs were passed, the East- man boldly held on her course toward the Florida shore. The captains reason for this was a shrewd one, and probably saved his vessel. For, sweeping through the Florida straits and northward, be- tween the mainland and the Bahama banks, is a strong current, always taken advantage of by coasters in these waters when coming north, but avoided by vessels bound for the Gulf, the course of these craft being laid on the western line of the Great Bank, where the flow of this ocean river is hardly perceptible. Therefore it would be natural for cruisers watch- ing for an in-bound vessel to lurk in the waters usually passed by such craft; and accordingly the Eastman was put squarely into the Florida Gulf Stream, a stiff northeast wind driv- ing her steadily upon her course. She was well on her way down the coast when, in the early morning, a schooner was discovered coming from the direction of Key West and crowd- ing all sail, as if threatened by some great danger. As the vessels ap proached each other, the skipper of the little craft could be seen making frantic signals, and as soon as his speaking trumpet could carry his voice to the Bath ship he shouted: Go about! Go about! The Ala- bamas sunk the Hatteras, the Floridas out of Mobile, and theyre both in the Straits. You cant get through. The shock of the news that a United States war-ship had been added to the list of the Alabamas vic- tims, while the fleet Florida had a sec- ond time defied the blockading squad- ron and was again upon the open sea, reached the heart of every man in that vessel, and involuntarily all eyes turned to the quarter-deck, where the master stood, gazing silently at the flying schooner. Slowly the half-raised trumpet dropped to the captains side. He looked earnestly at the sky, where the wind powers showed no signs of yielding, then at the swelling canvas and straining rigging, which were driving the sharp hull so swiftly through the uneasy water; and then, turning to his first officer with the quiet remark, I think she wants the topgallantsl, Mr. Mason, he went below. The mate gave a quick glance at the waves boiling under the lea scup- pers, through which white jets of flashing water came spouting upon the deck with every heavy roll of the ship; but the sailor instinct was shap- ing the words of obedience even then, and: Lay aloft to loose the main topgallantsl! rang out before the captains head disappeared in the companion way. None there knew that the Alabama was then at Kingston, Jamaica, where those merchants showed their good- will toward the United States by tendering Semmes an elaborate recep- tion at the Commercial Exchange, in honor of his victory over the Hatteras. They supposed that both the pirates were just before them; but the old sailor spirit, which resented any inter- ference with an American ship on the 284 RUNNING THE GAUNTLET. sea, as well as the natural disposition of the Yankee to take chances, had quickly stifled the fears which the warning of the friendly skipper had raised, and the ring of their voices as they sheeted home the lofty sail showed that the enthusiasm which the presence of danger always brings to such men was upon the sailors, and that they were proud of their com- mander for holding to his course. All day the ship sped down the coast; and only the fact that the cap- tain went aloft several times and care- fully scanned the horizon showed the anxiety he was feeling for the lives and property in his charge. But the probable fate of the vessel was thor- oughly discussed in the forecastle. One old seaman, who had been cap- tured by Semmes when that officer was in command of the Sumpter, be- came a person of especial interest to the younger members of the crew; and if he chose to magnify his own importance by picturing the Confed- erate commander as a fierce pirate of exceptional size and brutality, it may have been merely for the purpose, as he confidentially informed the boat- swain, of making them keep a sharper lookout for ugly visitors. Still no enemy appeared; but just before sunset a bit of wreckage was made out, and the half-burned hatch cover floating near it told these men how it chanced to be there. Appar- ently the spars had belonged to a small brig, and she had been destroyed by the cruisers. Night came down with the sky hidden by heavy wind clouds, favor- ing the escape of the vessel across that darkened sea. The last search of the spyglass had shown a barren ocean, and the seamen grew confident that they would pass the straits unseen. But the captain remained on deck. It would be several hours before they could turn from their southerly course, and meanwhile they must con- tinue on their way into that part of the sea where the wreckage of the brig showed the danger lurked. All lights had been extinguished. Even the red eye of the port lantern had been closed, and only the faint glow of the binnacle lamp, touching the face of the helmsman as he watched the needle which guided them upon their course, showed through the darkness. The roar of the tumbled water, as it was hurled aside by the plunging bow of the rushing ship, the creak of the long yards as they tugged at their slings, the hum of the straining rig- ging, and the howl of the wind through the sheets of those sails dimly seen in the darkness, alone broke the stillness of the quarter-deck; for all realized that at any moment a shot might come out of the surrounding blackness and the voyage be brought to an end. Suddenly from aloft came the start- ling cry: Fire on the port bow! and springing forward the officers dis- covered their cabin boy Frank, astride the main, topgallant-sail yard, cling- ing to the sling and the swaying mast which, with every roll of the strug- gling ship, carried him far out over the racing waves bespattered with scudding foam. The boy had lis- tened to the old tars tales of south- ern pirates until his fancy had dotted the ocean with cruisers and merciless men; and so, when the crew supposed him to be asleep in his bunk, he had slipped into the main rigging, where, hidden by the mizzen sails, he had climbed to his lofty perch unobserved. In an instant both officers were in the top. Away to the south could be seen a glow above the water, which, even as they watched, seemed to burn through the horizon line and spread a red glare upon the sky, showing that a ship had been set on fire. Soon, from the royal, glimpses of the burning hull could be caught as it rose on the crest of a wave, the deck a mass of flames which were pouring in sheets over the tarred rigging; and then on the outer circle of light the glass discovered the black shape of the destroyer, moving off to the north. There was no need to call all hands RUNNING THE GAUNTLET. 285 on deck; they were all thereand the patter of feet brought every man to his place before the call of Stand by sheets to wear ship had fairly left the officers lips. Up went the helm and, with a rattle of Llocks, the great sails were swung across the deck as the ship took the wind over her star- board quarter and headed to the west- ward under a press of canvas. As the crew watched the flames, then visible from the ships deck, the name of Semmes passed from lip to lip. It was days later when they learned that this was the work of the Florida, which had that very day de- stroyed the barque La Cigneva, from Portland, and the brig Windward, bound to that portin all sinking seven vessels during her brief visit to these waters. Knowing the peril they would be in should the Alabama sight his ship at this time, the captain, regardless of the fact that he had not yet reached a point far enough south to give the reefs the berth their dan- gerous character demands, had swung for the keys, preferring the company of breakers to that of the torch-bearing ship. The Straits at their narrowest point have a width of about seventy- five miles; but there is very bold water along the keys which form the northern line of this passage, and close under these islets the vessel was driven, the great plumes of white, where the billows burst upon the reefs, contrasting weirdly with the red glare which still stained the southern sky. Soon the fire died out; but all night the ship tore on her way, with every yard of canvas which the buckling spars could bear tugging in the wind, the roar of the water at her bow smothered again and again by the mightier roar of the breakers, as she passed reef after reef in that danger- ous chain girting Floridas coast. When morning broke the ship was past Tortugas. Not a sail was in sight; and then, for the first time since he had seen the drifting wreck- age, the captain entered his cabin but with a double watch in the fore top to report on even the suspicion of smoke on any horizon. The heavy wind had followed the craft into the Gulf, and if the enemy sighted her at all he must have given up the chase, for the next day she completed her voyage in safety and was taken in tow by a government tug for New Orleans. And Frank? At New Orleans he caught the war spirit which grew so enthusiastic over the call to plant the flag in Texas. He was too young to carry a musket, but when the expedi- tion sailed that fall he managed to find a place for himself in one of the trans- ports. He was a great favorite with the soldiers; but one night a scouting party which he had accompanied re- turned without him. A skirmishers bullet had found the lad, and, far from his Maine home, he sleeps under the great Texas pines. GEORGE EDWARD ELLIS. By Arthur B. Ellis. N earlier New England days, we are told that families of the 9~ native stock were larger than they are to-day. Snch was the case with the inmates of the house numbered twenty ~ five on Snmmer Street, in the town of Boston, in the early part of the present centnry. David Ellis, the father of George Edward, horn in West Dedham, Massachusetts, June 21, 1765, became a Boston merchant and owner of vessels, trading largely with the Scandi- navian country,at one time a rich man as estimated in those days, but late in life losing a great part of his property. One of his vessels, named the Josephine in honor of the Q neen of Sweden, received a set of colors from Her Majesty in recogni tion of the christening. David Ellis was twice married. By his first wife, Theda Lewis, he had nine children, all bnt one of whom died young. By his second wife, Sarah Rogers, a descend- ant of Rev. John Rogers of Ipswich, the first president of Harvard College who was a gradu~te, he had seven children, George Edward, horn in Boston, August 8, 1814, being the fonrth in order. The mother of George Ellis was born in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Decem- ber 25, 1781. Her father, Jeremiah Dummer Rogers, a commissary in the British army at the time of the siege of Boston, being obliged to flee with the other loyalists, had taken his wife with him to Halifax. After the direful times, as they were called by one member of the family, were over, the little girl, who aftetward married David Ellis, was brought back to Boston and put in the care of her aunt Parkman, who was the wife of Samuel Parkman, one of the wealthiest Boston merchants of that day. In a memoir of his brother Rufus, Dr. George Ellis contributed some interesting details of family history. He tells of a visit made to this country by an uncle, his mothers brother, Jeremiah Dummer Rogers, who is re- ferred to in Moores life of Lord Byron as his tutor. Moore is authority for the statement that Byron was much attached to his teacher. Jeremiah Rogers was English to the core, and could not put up with the land of his relatives. He attended services at Trinity, and not at the family meeting- house, which was the New South Dr. Alexander Youngson Church Green. Harvard College gave Rog- ers the degree of A. M. at the time of his visit, which was in 1824. 286 REV. GEORGE E. ELLIS. GEORGE EDWARD ELLIS. 287 The boy George attended several schools before going to college, in- cluding the Boston Latin School, Round Hill at Northampton, and William Wellss School in Cambridge. Many of the pupils of those days have become famous in New England annals. Boston was a small place in the first qnarter of this century; but the Latin School was fostering a bril- liant company of scholars. Until the boy was sent to college, he lived in the family house on Summer Street. It was an attractive place, with plenty of space in front, border- ing upon a street shaded with beauti- ful treesthe ocean not far away. In the rear of the dwelling were a stable and a large garden running back well- nigh to Bedford Street. His father kept servants and horses. As a little boy, George would sometimes go with the colored man to pasture the cow on the Common. Each cow which was allowed on the Common had a tag showing her ownership. Old-fashioned hospitality was dis- pensed, especially during Anniversary Week, which brought country rela- tives to many city households to at- tend the religious and other services. These relations were not usually blest with a surfeit of this worlds goods, and consequently would go back more heavily laden than when they came, besides having the old vehicle, which somewhat resembled the famous one- horse shay in antiquity, it may be slicked up a bit,that is to say, varnished and greased so that it would run easier over the rough roads. Life had its seamy side, though, for boys in those days, especially on winter mornings, when they were obliged to get up in the freezing cold and crack the ice perhaps before they could get any water to wash with. However, the great fire in the huge 4ining-room fireplace would soon make things more cheery. Georges father was a ship-owner, and it was the custom in those days for the skippers to dine with the own- ers before sailing. On such occa sions, boys must have kept their ears wide open to hear anything which might interest them about foreign parts. Sometimes the remarks which were made showed the rough life and training of the men. The boy George recalled one story of a captain who, being much pleased with the pudding which Mrs. Ellis, his mother, had pro- vided, expressed himself very em- phatically,that it was a good pud- ding, yes, a dd good pudding, Mrs. Ellis.to which that lady responded that shewas glad he liked the pudding, but that he need not lay that special form of emphasis on his satisfaction. Like his half-brother Francis, George w~s sent to Harvard College, graduating with the class of 1833. This class is noteworthy for the num- ber of well-known professors which it contributed to its alma mater, Bowen, Lovering, Torrey and Jeifries Wyman. Mr. Ellis himself was a pro- fessor in the Divinity School at Cam- bridge for six years. After his graduation from the col- lege, the course of three years. at the theological school was taken in the same class with Theodore Parker and John S. Dwight. His life from the GEORGE E. ELLIS IN EARLY LiFE. 288 GEORGE EDWARD ELLIS. time of leaving Cambridge, in 1836, through the many years which fol- lowed, was one of wide interest and experience. His success as a minister seemed assuredforeordained as it wereby an invitation which soon followed for a supply of the pulpit of the famous Dr. Channing. This ser- vice was performed in the meeting- house which then stood on Federal Street. Such a compliment to so young a man, fresh from the prepara- tory study of theology, might well be considered a brilliant opening of his ministerial career. The next great event was a trip abroad,in those days not a com- mon occurrence,described at some length in a recent article by Dr. Ellis in the Atlantic Monthly. The account of this sole experience in foreign parts is preserved in detail in manuscript form among his literary effects, a few extracts from which maybe of interest. He left Boston, May 5, 1838, for New York, by the steam-cars to Providence and Stonington, then by steamer Lexington to New York, and sailed in the ship Roscoc, Captain Delano, of New Bedford. Pending the departure of his vessel, the young man had a chance to see the Great Western as she left the harbor, which called a crowd of people to see her and a fleet of steamboats to accompany her out, with music, guns, etc. Mr. Ellis sailed May 8, and reached Liverpool June 2. After some excursions to various places in England, he got to London just before the coronation of Queen Victoria. With Rev. E. S. Gannett, so long the minister of Arlington Street Church, Boston, he called on Carlyle. He received us, though strangers, without an introduction, with great pleasure and courtesy, as New Eng- landers, to whom he feels much in- debted for the kindness with which they have received his various writ- ings. We had a long conversation with him upon the prospects of hu- manity, and particularly the condition of England. He is a man of the brightest hopes; he sees the good in every thing. I was struck with his apparent simplicity and freedom from affectation, for I had thought from his writings that he must be an artificial man. We took tea with him, and saw his wife. He spoke of Mr. Emerson as the brightest vision that had crossed his path. While engaged at the British Museum, inspecting some documents for Mr. Bancroft, the historian, he met Mr. Hallam, whom he found a very agreeable man. From St. Jamess Square, with Mr. Gannett, he saw the procession on the day of the corona- tion. The Queen passed within two yards, giving him a fine opportunity to see her face, which was perfectly colorless and pale. June 29th. By a kind invitation from Mrs. Somerville, Mr. G. and my- self went to dine with her family to- day. We met there Lady Byron and her daughterLady Kingjust cre- ated Peeress of Lovelace. Among others from whom he re- ceived attention while in London were John Foster, Hallam, James Yates and IViudge, the most popular Uni- tarian preacher in London. Dr. Ellis has left a long and full account of his extended travels in England and on the Continent. From November i8 to the close of the year he was in Rome. Here is an account of his visit to the Pope, which we give almost in full as an illustration of the vivacious style of his journal: Saturday, fifteenth of December, 1838. I had requested a presentation to the Pope, that I might have a present view of one who held all that remained of a power which once bound together all the Christian and civilized world. Sadly shorn as that power has been, ridiculed, resisted and overcome by the better part of its subjects, one must now feel for its holder some of the pity and regard which belong to a fallen enemy. From his palace once went forth decrees which shook monarchs in their thrones; and now his title and pretensions make a holiday sport to the children of England. But nearly all the pomp and awe which was ever connected with his immediate pres- ence still invests him. All is done by at- tendants and the orders of the clergy to GEORGE EDWARD ELLIS. 289 keep up the solemn sanctity of his high pretensions. Besides the usual obsequi- ousness of courts, there is all the outward manifestation of religion, which seldom constitutes the great attraction of a court. The ornaments of the antechambers are crucifixes and religious paintings; the book which lies upon the table, where a page may amuse a tedious hour, is a brevi- ary; the shaven crown and the plumed cap, the spur and the sandal, the priestly robe and the embroidered coat, the sash and the rosary are found alike in the same apart- ments. One official salutes you by pre- senting firearms, the other by uttering a benediction. Accompanied by our consul, Mr. Greene, three Americans besides my- self started at eleven oclock in a handsome carriageone with a number, like a com- mon hack, not being allowedfor the Vatican. We made the entire circuit of St. Peters, passed through innumerable courts, by which I realized the vast extent of the massy buildings, and were set down at the foot of an inner staircase. Passing in succession five halls or rooms which were attended by servants, attendants, guards, priests and noble officers, rising in the splendors of their various dresses and in their rank, as they approached nearer to the rooms where the Pope was, we at last found oursdves at rest in a handsome apartment adorned with a throne, which is used for the meetings of the secret council. Here we were obliged to wait an hour and a half, as the Pope then had audiences with his treasurer, with the Roman Senator and with Cardinal Barberini. . . . While wait- ing in this papal antechamber we had a good opportunity to observe the etiquette which is practised in the reception of visitors, also of seeing the Marquis Mel- chiori, a distinguished literary man of the city. The Popes especial body guard is composed of the noble families, who serve in rotation. Some priests in blue robes were in attendance. At last our time came. Mr. Greene had given us instructions rela- tive to the congds, etc., but we found them almost unnecessary, for the Pope was not at all formal. We were to make three reverences or bows, one on entering the door, one midway in the room, and a very profound one as we approached His Holi- ness. We were received into his private cabinet, formed in a line on Mr. Greenes right. The Pope stood close to us, ad- dressed himself to Mr. G., and thus the conversation was carried on with perfect ease for twenty minutes between them. The room had a canopied seat, a crucifix and rich furnitu:e. The Pope was dressed in a white woollen robe bound with satin, and a small cape and sleeves; it was but- toned down to his feet, and was much soiled. He wore a silk skull cap, which was likewise much soiled. Indeed he had throughout a very untidy appearance, his nose, hands and breast being completely covered with snuff. However, he is very easy and affable in his manners, a good- looking old gentleman, strong and fleshy; his nose is very large and very red, owing to disease. He is seventy-three years old, and has filled his office seven years. The Pope wished to know which of us was from New York, Philadelphia and Boston, and then addressed each of us. Mr. G. told him that the Protestant churches of Boston had aided in the erection of the Catholic church there, with which he was highly pleased. . . . A polite bow terminated the interview. Etiquette demanded that we should back opt, but as His Holiness went to his table and did not look to see the mode of our exit, we preferred to follow the plan which nature adopted when she set our noses upon our faces. Mr. Ellis sailed for home, appar- ently, some time in the latter part of April, 1839. In spite of all the advantages to be derived by becoming a part of a greater municipality, the process of grafting does not seem to be always successful. The flavor and quality of the fruit are varied, but a certain rare identity is sometimes lost. Charles- town before annexation to Boston had a certain prestige, an individuality, which, in spite of historic associations, it has not retained since it became a part of something else. In 1840, at the time when the young man who was destined to have so long and pop- ular a career as a minister was called to the Harvard Church in Charles- town, the memories of Bunker Hill were still recalled by living witnesses. The young minister had the honor of being chaplain, and, in close company with the orator of the day, took part at the celebration of the completion of the tall shaft. Naval memories were of course fresher than the memories of the battles of the Revolution, as the glories of the War of 1812 were then by no means distant. The navy yard, with its officers and their families, and the merchant marine service formed a prominent portion of the city, and was largely represented in Dr. Elliss re- ligious sQciety. Persons of all de- grees, whether naval or without title of any kind, were enrolled in the large body known as the Harvard Church. 290 GEORGE EDWARD ELLIS. In course of time the parish became so extended that a branch organization was established and carried on in con- nection with the parent institution. With such large parochial duties on his hands, engagement in ulterior pur- suits would seem to have been almost out of the question. But without ap- pearing to have incurred any sus- picion of neglect of his regular calling, Mr. Ellis engaged in congenial tasks which brought him much pecuniary and honorary advantage. About the niiddle of the present century was especially an era of lecturing in New England; and in this field the young minister had a peculiar and happy fac- ulty, in the choice of descriptive lan- guage, of interesting a popular audi- ence. He had this power in later life. The lectures on the Indians, The Red Man and the White Man in North America, delivered in the Lowell Institute course in 1879, abounded in passages which showed this wonderful facility and fascination in style of com- position. The language was suffi- ciently ornate to please the cultivated, without being above the level of the less educated. At an early date the foundation of Dr. Elliss reputation as a New Eng- land historian was laid,of especial prominence as regards his native town. While a young man he wrote the lives of John Mason and Anne Hutchinson in Sparkss series of biographies. His election to the Massachusetts Historical Society, Oc- tober 28, 1841, must have quickened a natural aptitude for investigating. As years increased, his mind became a perfect storehouse of curious facts and observations, giving a recognized authority to his mature reflections. In matters relating to Boston, espe- cially of the early history of the town and the colonial and provincial peri- ods, he was particularly well versed. But his range was by no means re- stricted to historical pursuits. He often said, I read a new book every day. If he did not actually fulfil this estimate, he was certainly an indefati- gable and most thoughtful reader of xvhat was best in modern writing. Delving in the past did not deprive his active mind of a singular versatil- ity in attention to what was happen- ing of daily interest. He could lay aside his pen and amuse one for an hour at a time by his quaint and curi- ous comments, for the most part reminiscent, but by no means exclu- sively so. He could live intensely in the present, making the stranger imagine that history was the last thing about which he cared. In 1885 Dr. Ellis, after having held the office of vice-president of the Massachusetts Historical Society since I877, was chosen president of that ancient and distinguished body, in succession to the Hon. Robert C. ~Jinthrop, who had resigned the office. He was also one of the most zealous and distinguished members of the American Antiquarian Society, never missing its meetings in Worces- ter and Boston. The degree of D. D. and that of LL. D. were conferred upon him by Harvard; but he cared little for such adornments and never added them to his name on the title- pages of his books. The long list of publications from his pen shows an im- mense amount of labor and learning. In his History of the Harvard Church in Charlestown, Henry H. Edes has collected with great care, having them submitted to Dr. Ellis for his ap- proval, the titles of his writings, cover- ing several pages. Many addresses on public occasions were delivered by him, the most noteworthy, perhaps, being the elaborate commemoration of the siege of Boston, which was given in the Music Hall in 1876. At the time of his death, which occurred at his residence in Boston, December 20, 1894, Dr. Ellis was in his eighty- first year. ONE of the most notable anni- versary observances of the year in New England is set for the sixth of i\lay at New London, when the historic town at the month of the Thames will celehrate its two hnndred and fiftieth birthday. On the preced- ing evening, Mr. Walter Learned will deliver a retrospective address and Mr. eorge Parsons Lathrop will read an appropriate poem; and these liter~ rv features of the celebration will he fol- lowed the next day by an elaborate spectacular commemoration of the first permanent settlement in the Pequot country by John Winthrop the younger in the spring of 1646. In the morning there will be a historical parade, several hnndred children from the public schools will sing patriotic choruses, the pastor of the irst Congre- gational church will eulogize the Congrega- tional founder of the town, and the corner- stone of a Win- throp memorial vill be laid. Later in the day there will he a parade of civic and mili- tary organizations, several thousand strong; and a soldiers and sailors monument, presented to the city I y Mr. Sebastian D. Lawrence of New London, will be unveiled. This memorial is a granite shaft sur- mounted by a statue of Peace, and flanked by figures of an American sailor and infantryman. The monu- ment is composed of alternate layers of red and blue stone, and at its base are polished panels and emblems carved in high relief, commemorating the four branches of the national ser- vice. It rises to the height of fifty feet, and its location on the Parade at the foot of State Street will make it one of the most conspicuous objects of interest in the city. 291 LAP Po LYJQN.P I AThP THE HORE N ~AR THE PEQUOT. 292 NEW LONDON, CONNECTICUT. It is fit that New London should thus observe the anniversary of its establishment; for few American towns have had a more inspiring past or have contributed in more generous measure to the annals of American history. We find epitomized in its record the record of New England. The struggles of the early colonists on these stern and rock-bound coasts, the preponderating influence of the church in public affairs, the inter- mittent warfare with the aborigines, the gradually increasing sense of political importance, the stirring of PERKINS HOUSE, WASHIN ~TONS HEAD HJARTERS. the revolutionary spirit in the latter half of the eighteenth century, the commercial prosperity of the early days of the nineteenth all these New Londoii experienced in common with those other communities which niay properly be called representative New England towns. The Puritan life- blood has pulsed in her veins through all the years of her honorable history, and what xvas best in Puritan faith and teaching survives in her to-day. Since the interest in New London must be at present so largely of a his- torical character, let u. glance back- ward for a moment to that far- away time when John Winthrop, Jr., son of the Governor of Massachusetts first made his habitation in the Pequot country. Already the spirit of unrest had manifested itself in the colony on the shores of Massachusetts Bay. Already adventurous settlers were pushing out into the wilderness to found new homes by quiet streams, vith only the unsocial red man for company. The towns on the Connecticut had been established more than a decade, and the community at Say- brook was nine years old, when \\ inthrop availed himself of the Massachusetts ~~rant JOHN WINTHROP, IHE YOUNGER, I OUSE IN XVHICH NATHAN HALE TAUGHT, NEW LONDON, CONNECTICUT. 293 which gave him possession of Fishers Island, and laid the fonndations of what may fittingly he called the Pe- qnot Commonwealth. For it was not at New London that the first English settlement within the hnnting-gronnds of Sassacns was made, but on the surf- beaten shores of Fyshers Island, now a portion of the State of New York. The yonnger Winthrop is one of the most attractive fignres in early New England history. We find onrselves drawn strangely to him, thongh more than two centnries have rested upon his tomb. He was conrtly and digni- fied, vet gentle and winsome, compel- ling the respect which his anstere father commanded, but inspiring a greater degree of intimate friendship and love. He has been called the flower of New England Pnritanism, and there is something in his bearing to remind ns of Sir Philip. Sidney, the flower of English chivalry. He was born at Groton, England, in i6o6, was edncated at Bnry St. Edmnnds school and Trinity College, Dublin, began the study of law, bnt abandoned it for the naval service, accompanied the ex- pedition to Rochelle to relieve the Hugnenots, travelled extensively in the far East, and in 1631 married Martha Fones of London, with whom he emigrated to Massachusetts in the same year, He founded the town of Ipswich, Mass., where Mrs. Winthrop died in 1634, and afterward returned to England, marrying, in 1635, Eliza- beth Read of Wickford in Essex. In the latter part of that year he made a second pilgrimage to America, this time bringing with him a commission from Lord Say-and-Seal and Lord Brooke to build a fort and begin a plantation within their grant at the mouth of the Connecticut River. With twenty followers he executed this commission, which was for a single year and does not seem to have been renewed. In 1638 and 1639 he was living at Ipswich, and in 1640 the General Court of Massachusetts ceded him Fishers Island, a tract of land some nine miles in extent, separated from the westernmost limits of Rhode Island territory by some two miles of ocean, and reaching westward to the mouth of the river Thames. It was not certain whether the island lay within the jurisdiction of Massa- chusetts or not, so a proviso was in- THE GOVERNOR WINTHROP HOMESTEAD. p NEW LONDON CONNECTICUT. serted in the deed of ojft hut Win- throp appled to Connecticut for a clear title, ~hich ~ ~as granted to him under date of April p, 1641, in these words pon Mr. ~Vinthrop n o- tion to the Court for F ~shers Island, it is the mind of the Court that so far as it hinders not the puhlic good of the country, either for fortifying for de- fence or setting up a trade for shino or salt, and such like, he shal have lii erty to proceed therein. The island was ultimately in- inded in the grant to the Duke of York, hut Winthrop secured a new title from the gov- ernment at Manhattan, thus fortifying his pos- session hy c eeds from three colonies. Fisl ers Island as seen from the ~iainland to-day is a hleak and treeless stretch, vith little to attract the eye~ But in the days of \finthrop it was a favorite resort for tl e Indians, its ex- t nsive voodlands sheltered deer and other game, and its great ponds fur- nished ahundant sport for the fisher- man. The famous gae o~ 1815, ~hich worked such havoc throughout - e v Englan 1, strippec it of its fore 4s, and at the present time almost its on v trees are the inconsiderahle groves oi the shores o the ponds. So erce was the fur of this memorahie tem- pest, that the salt spray from Fishers Island Sound is said to have heen carried a dozen miles inland, where it crystallized on the window-panes of the astonished inhahitants. But shorn as it is of its glory of foliage, the island is still a pleasant spot. The winding lanes at West Harhor, the elds of grain and roll- ing meadoxvs, the glimpses here and there of water in all the va- riety that ocean, land- MONUMENT AT ORT GRISWOLD, locked haven and inland pond afford, give it a charming rural aspect, while the many cottages of its summer col- ony add a modern and picturesque element to the view. It was here that Winthrop lived from 1644 to 1646. Here he huilt the first white mans dwelling-house in the Pequot country and reaped the first harvest gathered hy English hands between the Connecticut River and Narragan- ~ett Bay. The island remained in the possession of the Winthrop family NEW LONDON, COi TATECTICUT 295 until 1862; and there mar still be seen at East Harbor the Winthrop home- stead, built, it is said, by Francis Bay- ard Winthrop, who lived in the eight- eenth century. During the latter part of his resi- dence at Fishers Island, John Win- throp appears to have been engaged in preparing a settlement on the west bank of the Thames. In i644 the General Court of Massachusetts had granted to him a plantation at or near Pequod for iron works, and as early as 1645 he was on the site of the future city of New London with a few associates. We are told by the elder Winthrop that the actual beginning of the town was made in 1646, on the sixth of May of which year this act of the Court was entered on the records at Boston: Whereas Mr. John Win- throp, Jun., and some others, have by allowance of this Court begun a plantation in the Pequot country, rhich appertains to this jurisdic- tion, as part of our proportion of the conquered coun- tr ~, and whereas this Court is informed that some In- dians who are now planted upon the place, where the said plantation is be- gun, are N illing to remove from their planting ground for the more quiet and convenient settling of the Engli h there, so that they may have anoth w convenient place appointed,it is therefore ordered that Mr. John \X in- throp may appoint unto such Indiam as are willing to remove, their lands on the other side, that is, on the east side of the Great River of the Pequot coun- try, or some other place for their con- venient planting and subsistence. which ma be to the good liking and satisfaction of the said Indians, and Il-IL IEQLUI lll-)tiSL. THE RIVER SIDE. 296 NEW LONDON, CONNECTICUT. likewise to such of the Pequot Indians as shall desire to live there, submitting themselves to the English govern ment. And whereas Mr. Thomas Peters is intended to inhahit in the same plantation,this Court doth think fit to join him to assist the said Mr. Winthrop for the better carrying on the work of said plantation. New London, as may be gathered from these facts, is the daughter of Massachusetts, rather than of Co n n e c t i c u t. It was emi- gration from the colony on Massachusett s FIRST CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH. Bay, not a movement of population from the river towns at that time com- posing the cololly of Connecticut, that resulted in the settlementof the Pequot country. Saybrook at the mouth of the Connecticut withstood for several years the offers of political union ad- vanced from Hartford; New Haven and her sister towns relinquished their separate existence only after a pro- tracted and hitter struggle for anton- omy; and for some time succeeding the establishment of Winthrop and his followers on the banks of the Thames it was uncertain whether Massachu- setts or Connecticut would finally ad- minister the affairs of the settlement. The Commissioners of the United Colonies were appealed to, to decide the question, Mr. Winthrops own preference at this time seeming to be for i liassachusetts. Massachusetts. argued that the region round about the mouth of the Thames was hers by right of conquest; Connecticut claimed the district by virtue of royal patent as well as conquest. Juris- diction, affirmed the Commissioners goeth constantly with the Patent, but although the hold of Massachu- setts upon the territory became gradu- ally weaker, it was some time before the authority of Connecticut was firmly established. In some portions of the Pequot country, indeed, the Bay Colony long continued to exercise her OCEAN BEACH. NEW LONDON, CONNECTICUT. 297 sway. According to the testimony of certain Pequot Indians, examined by Rev. James Noyes and Mr. Amos Richardson of Stonington during the long-protracted dispnte between Con- necticnt and Rhode Island as to the jurisdiction over the lands immediately east of the Paw- catuck, the possessions of that tribe extended some four or five miles beyond the pres- ent boundaries of Connecti- cut. From this point on the east, near the present village of Niantic, R. I., to the Mystic River on the west, Massa- chusetts asserted her author- ity for years after the inclu- sion of New London within the jurisdiction of Hartford. In 1658 the Commissioners of the United Colonies de- cided that the Mystic River, the n~ame of which recalls to- day the Massachusetts origin of the neighboring settlers, should be the boundary be- tween the colonies, soe faras the Pond by Lanthorne Hill, and thence from the middle of said pond, to run away upon a north line; and in the succeeding year this decision was confirmed by the same authority. It was not until 1662, eighteen years after the first settlement of the Pequot country, that the royal charter obtained by Win- throp from King Charles put it per- manently under the jurisdiction of Connecticut; so it is only fair to say that New London and the towns of the surrounding region owed their initial impulse to I\Iassachusetts and were thus the offshoot of the chief colony of New Eng- land. Nor did any of the daughter colonies of Mas- sachusetts receive from her a more vigorous or val- uable vitality. To the towns on the Connecticut she gave Haynes, Hop- kins and Ludlow, to Rhode Island Williams and Coddington; New Haven, though owing much of its early vigor to a direct English emigra- tion, received from her a grateful impetus; and SOLDIERS AND SAILORS MONUMENT. some of her best sons found new homes north of the Piscataqua. But to New London she gave likewise a distinguished coterie of citizens, fore- most among them the younger Win- throp, the travelled gentleman, enthusi- astic scientist and courtly diplomat, 298 TEW LOATDO! T CONNECTICUT. founders of New Haven, less un- pressive than the seer of Rhode Island, whose name is forever joined with the watchwords of hnman freedom, but more lovable tban they, and no less worthy our remembrance and esteem. He is said to have been the best educated man of his day; his library contained a thou- sand choice volumes, and he was an eminent member of the Royal Society. His name is perpetuated in much of the local nomenclature of the present generation; and perhaps some com petent historian will be inspired by the contem- porarv celebra- tion at New Lon- don to xvrite his biography in ap- propriate form. While the soil at New London proved to its early tillers less fertile than that of the Connecti- cut valley, the situation of the place offered them the best possible facilities for commer- cial activity, and the varied scenery of river, valley and forest afforded them a perpetual inspiration. The town is set on the west bank of the river Thames, and overlooks one of the finest harbors in the United States. From the hills on which it is built, distant views of the Sound and ocean may be caught, and on unclouded days the white cliffs of Long Island come clearly into view. So attractive is the situation, that the General Court of Connecticut wished the first inhab- itants to give up the ancient Indian name of Nameaug, which had been derived from the tribe of the neigh- borhood, and adopt that of Faire Harbour, a picturesque and appropri- ate desi~nation; but the love of the country they had left across the sea was still strong in their breasts, and they determined to establish a new London on this side of the Atlantic. Finally, in 1658, the General Court at Hartford approved this choIce, de THE THAMES BRIDGE. a personage less heroic perhaps than the stern and serious JOHN MASON MONUMENT, PEQUOT HILL. 14II\IVI-TJ, ~IHI 140 S6~i .0 A141 9 IVA ~14i 300 NEW LONDON, CONNECTICUT. daring: Whereas, it hath been a commendable practice of the inhabi- tants of all the colonies of these parts, that as this country bath its denom- ination from our dear native country of England, and thence is called New England; so the planters, in their first settling of most new plantations, have given names to those plantations of some cities and towns in England, thereby intending to keep up and leave to posterity the memorial of several places of note there. . . . This court considering that there bath yet no place in any of the colonies been named in memory of the city of London, there being a new plantation within this jurisdiction of Connecti- cut, settled upon the fair river of Monhegin, in the Pequot country, it being an excellent harbour and a fit and convenient place for future trade, it being also the only place which the English of these parts have possesse by conquest, and that by a very just war, upon that great and warlike people, the Pequots, that therefore they might thereby leave to posterity the memory of that renowned city of London, from thence we had our transportation, have thought fit, in honor to that famous city, to call the said plantation NEW LONDON. For similar rea- sons, the fair river Monhegin became the Thames. In 1650, four years after the original settle- ment, the village had increased so considerably that a public grinding-mill was found to be a necessity. A substantial struc- ture was therefore erected under the supervision of Winthrop; and so well was the work done that the building remains to the pres- ent day, a monument to the sterling carpentry of our colonial forefathers. It is regarded as one of the most inter- esting landmarks of the present city, and will attract general attention at the celebration in May. The Win- throp homestead, which stood near by THE OLD AND THE NEW OLD MILL (BUILT 1650) AND WINTHROP SCHOOL. NEW LONDON, CONNECTICUT. 301 and is shown in an ilinstration accom- panyino~ this paper, was demolished some years ago, bnt in its place has risen a Winthrop school, which affords a marked contrast to the colonial architectnre of the old mill beside it. The records of the town dnring the first years of its existence give ns here and there pleasant glimpses of the peacefnl life of its inhabitants, bnt nothing is more pictnresqne than an incident related by Winthrop at Hart- ford, some years after its occnrrence, when he had been called npon to testify to the correct bonndary be- tx ~een the towns of New London and Lyme. In order to show that the original limits of the former extended as far west as Bride Brook, near the present village of Ni ntic, he recalled this episode: While deriving anthority a- magistrate at ew London from the General Conrt of Massachnsetts, he was reqnested to marry a yonth and maiden at Say- brook. A Con- necticnt magistrate ~ad been engaged for the ceremony bnt there falling ont at that time a great snow, travel from the in- terior was blocked, and applica- tion was made to Winthrop as the most accessible official. He conld not perform the ceremony in Connecticnt territory, and a jonrney from Saybrook to New London wonld have been irksome for the bridal party; bnt a compromise was made, and a meeting effected at the bonn- dary line of the two colonies, where Bride Brook, receiving its name from this incident, flows into the Sonnd. Romantic lovers, says Miss Canlk- ins, the historian of New London have sometimes pledged their faith by joining hands over a narrow streamlet; bnt never, perhaps, before or since, was the legal rite performed in a sitnation so wild and solitary, and THE NAMEAUG SCHOOL. PEQUOT CASINO AND NEW LONDON LIGHT. 302 NEW LONDON, CONNECTICUT. tinder circnmstances so interesting and pecnliar. Another important infinx of Massa- chnsetts settlers occnrred in J65J. In that or the preceding year, Rev. Rich- ard Blinman, formerly of Chepstoxve in Monmonthshire, England, re- moved from Gloncester to New London, becoming the first minister of the town, at a salary of sixty ponnds per annnm in addition to the gift of six acres of land on I\ieeting-Honse Hill; and he was followed in the spring of i6~i by many of his Gloncester parishioners, after the con- temporary fashion of many con grega- tions. Honse-lots for the new-coin- ers were platted beyond the brook and the ministr lot, and the thor- onghfare adjoining received the name of Cape Ann Lane. Thns another tie b - tween Massachn- setts and the planta- tion on the Gre~ t River of the Peqnot conntry was crc- ated. Eleven years after the fonnding of Ne v London, Winthrop was elected gov- ernor, and compelled to remove to Hartford; bnt the connection of the family with the place snrvived this event. The governors sons retnrned in 1662, and at the present time some of his descendants are to be fonnd in New London. One of his sons, Fitz- John Winthrop, became the second governor of the colony contribnted by New London; and snbseqnently a third execntive was snpplied by die town in the person of Rev. Gnrdon Saltonstall, the Congregational min- ister. In recent years the city has given the state another governor, Hon. Thomas M. Waller, who was also first vice-president of the Worlds Fair Commission at Chicago. Gov STATE STREET. Tn WiLLiAMS MEMORIAL INSTITUTE. NET/f LONDOY, CONNECTICUT. 303 ernor Saltonstall was chief justice of Connecticut for a single term, and Richard Law, the first mayor of Nexx London, occupied the same office; ~hile among the memhers of the ~ontinental Congress in the eight- eenth century were Law and William Hilihouse; and on the lists of the Tuited States House of Representa- tives have appeared the names of Amasa Learned, Joshua Coit, Elias Perkins, Lyman Law, Thomas W. Williams, Nathaii Beicher and Au- gustus Brandegee, all of New London. But this is necessarily a resumd of significant events, not of individual achi vements. The situation of New London made it an important centre in many colonial enterprises. Here the Coii- necticut troops rendezvoused in prep- aration for the Great S vamp FigI t of 1675, when the powerful Narragansett nation received its death-blow; here a~ early as i6~8 a custo us-officer was appointed, prohal ly tI e ret in the colony; and an act of Parliament in 17W made the town the chief postal station in Connecticut. In the French and Indian wars it had an honorahle part, and in 1745 the Con- necticut troops en route for Louisburg assembled here to embark. Possess- ing the best harbor between Newport and New York, the town sa v many warlike enterprises undertaken, as in 1776, when the first naval expedition under the authority of the Continental Congress was tted out in the Thames, with Commodore Hopkins in com- mand. 1T0 survey of the history of New London ~ould be complete without at least a passing reference to its long commercial record. In i66~ the Colonial authorities sent a communi- cation to the king, reminding him that Tew London had received its name from the hope entertained for it as a future important place of commerce and trade, and petitioning His Majesty to make it a free port for a TIlE PUBLIC LIBRARY. 304 NEW LONDON, CONNECTICUT. space of years. In i68o they wrote to the lords of the Privy Council, praying the same favor, and pointing out that the harhor was so capacious that a ship of 500 tunus may go np to the Toxvn and come so near the shoar, that they may toss a hiskitt on shoar These requests of the colonial officials were not granted; hut commerce flourished and the trade of the town increased year by year. The New London customs district included 11 Connecticut, as is noted by Doug- las, in his History of the British Settle- ments: In Connecticut are eight con- wenient shipping ports for small crafts, but all masters enter and clear at New London, a good harbor five miles within land and deep water; here they build large ships, hut their timber is spongy and iot durable. Commerce and ship-building naturally went hand in hand. The records show an im mense total number of crafts launched in the river, among them Jeffreys great ship of 700 tons, which was floated in 1725 in the presence of a throng of spectators. Trade was opened at an early date with the ports of Newfoundland, and New London vessels were familiar ohjects at the Barhadoes. From March 25, 1748, to March 25, 1749, the whole number of ves- sels clearing for for- eign ports was 62, while 37 arrived from foreign harbors; but this distant trade formed a small share only of the total com- merce of New Lon- don. The historian Douglas, writing at ahout this period, says: Connecticut uses scarce any for- eign trade; lately they send some small craft to the NV. Indies; they vent their produce in the neighboring col- onies, viz., wheat, Indian corn, heaver, pork, hutter, horses and flax. A few years hefore the open- ing of the Revolution a considerable trade with Great Britain and Spain had indeed sprung np, hut as the com- merce of the town had suffered previ- ously on account of the Canada wars, during which French vessels preyed upon it, so the outbreak of the greater struggle put an end to whatever hopes the New London merchants may have indulged for a profitable commercial intercourse with Europe. It was years after the independence of the Colonies had been secured before the marine trade of the place approached its former proportions. No other American town was more deeply affected than New London by the stirring events of the Revolution. Lying at the mouth of the Sound, it was constantly exposed to the designs of the British fleets, and while the actual attack did not occur until the 5 . JAMESS EPISCOPAL cnURcn, BURIAL PLACE OF BISPIOP EABURY, NEW LONDON, CONNECTICUT. latter part of the year 1781, it was for months at a time aln~ost daily and hourly expected. When Lexington was fonght and the news reached Con- necticut, two companies were formed at New London, hoth of which partici- pated in the hattle of Bnnker Hill. A New London seaman, in command of the ship Harriso,~t, is said to have taken the first British prize into port. Pa- triotism hurned hrightly in the town, and was fanned hy the constant sight of militia gathering on the green, or 305 naval expeditions emharking in the harhor. British ships patrolled the Sound from one end to the other, and once the inhahitants of New London were thrown into dire aJarm hy the spectacle of no less than a hun- dred of the ene- mys vessels in the offing. On snch occasions the sound of hells and the hlaze of heacon fires min- gled with the hooming of sig- nal guns along the coast. The hastily prepared earth- works on either side of the river were manned with excited troops, the wo- men and children scurried inland to places of safety, and the sloops and smacks of the port were hauled up the river toward Norwich. Prisoners re- leased hy the English on exchange fre- quently thronged the wharves and hrought filth and disease into the town. Privateers, coming into the harhor to refit, set their crews adrift in the streets and added a lax and noisy THE THAMES ON EEG TTX DAY. THE cOUET HOUSE, ERECTED 1784. ~o6 AJJEW LONDoN CONNECTICUT element to the population. It was in Long island Sound more than am - where else that the American and British privateers w aged their guerilla warfare against each other and gave a new and thrilling chapter to marine adventure. Some really fine vessels were fitted out at New London for this hazardous husiness, of which Miss Caulkins says, with a good deal of trtith: It has heen customar} to make a distinction hetween the regular navy of the country and those private armed vessels, called letters- ~f-marque or privateers, as if the former were an honorahle service and the latter hut little removed from piracy. The dis- tinction is unjust; one was as fair and lawful as the other. Bnth were sanc- tioned hy the custom of nations; the ohject of each was the same. The Continental vessels no less than the privateers seized upon peaceahle mer- chautmen; and as much historical credit should he awarded to the hrave privateersman, as to the comnus- sioned officeri Many were the rich prizes hrought into New London during this stirring period, and many the disasters which befell the (laring seamen who risked their lives and liherty for the cause ol the Colonies. Toward the close of the ii ar men availahle for the service hecame scarce, and advertisements like the following were frequent iI] the Connecticut Cazcttc: The ship Olvuer C ro;,tzedl, Timoths Parker, com~ mander, ready for a cruise against the enemies of the United Independent States. All gentlemen volunteers that have a mind to make their for- tunes, are desired to repair imme(li- ately on hoard said ship in the port of New London, where they will meet good encouragement. Gentlemen voltinteers is an ohviotis euphemism; hut it sounds well in cold print and in the early days of the war it ahnndantl~ justified itself. New London furnished to history the one figure of the Revolutionary struggle around whom clusters its chief pathetic interest, the gallant schoolmaster and captain, Nathan F{ale, executed as a spy hy the British and glorified in his tmntimelv death ihv the familiar is ords which have heen put on his monument in New York city: I on Ii regret that I have but one life to give for my country Th ~choolhotwe in is hich he taught at THE THAMES NEAR THE PEQUOT HOUsF, NEW LONDON, CONNECTICUT. 307 New London is still preserved, and ~vill doubtless remain as a silent teacher of patriotism for years to come. As Dr. Leonard Bacon said at the Sons of the American Revolntion dinner in New London, in 1892: Let it stand like the Whitefield house at Guilford and the old meeting-house at Hiugham, amid the sumptnons edi- fices of onr thriving and booming times, the monument of a simpler age; bnt more than a monnmentthe shrine of a heroic memory. Save the old schoolhouse. It has not done teaching yet. There may be therein no word of teacher nor murmur of childrens voices,there shall be no speech nor language, its voice shall not be heard; but, standing dumb upon these busy streets, its line shall go out into all the land, to teach the yonth of the future generations how to live for their country and how to die for it. In tragic contrast to the figure of Hale, whose brief career of nineteen years has appealed so deeply to the imagination of the American youth of every later period, stands that of Bene- dict Arnold, who was born in New London county, and who returned toward the close of the war to wreak his disappointment and vengeance upon his former neighbors and friends. The story is too familiar to be retold in detail, but may be recalled in its main features. The constant annoyance experienced by the British from the New London privateers cul- minated in 1781 in the loss of a partic- ularly valuable prize, which in spite of their best endeavors had been piloted safe out of reach into the Thames River. An expedition against the town was determined on at New York, and on the fifth of September a fleet of thirty-two vessels under command of Arnold made its appearance off the mouth of the harbor. On the morn- ing of the sixth, the feeble battery south of New London, known as Fort Trumbull, was attacked by the enemy in force and deserted by its garrison of txventy-three men, who had received orders to retreat to Fort Griswold across the river in the event of a direct assault, but did not obey until they had delivered a xvell-aimed volley at the invaders. The British took pos- session of the town in force, resistance on the part of the inhabitants being hopeless, and proceeded to destroy the shops, stores and public buildings in the vicinity of the water. Arnold him- self occupied an elevated position near the centre of the town and directed the progress of events in person, being by reason of his familiarity with the place well qualified for his peculiar service on this occasion. It is supposed that his original intention was to destroy not the private residences of the town, except in a few particular instances; but xvhether on account of the explo- sion of powder in the storehouses set ablaze, or because the rapacity of the soldiers increased with the sight of the flames, perhaps for both reasons the fall of night saw sixty-five (lwellmg- houses burned, together with thirty- seven mercantile stores and ware- houses, eighteen mechanics shops, twenty barns, and nine public or semi- public structures, including the Epis- copal church. The wharves and ship- ping met a similar fate, and so great was the blow to commerce that years were required for its revival. Meanwhile eight hundred troops had disembarked on the Groton side of the river, under command of Lieu- tenant-Colonel Eyre. A flag of truce was sent to Col. William Ledyard, the commandant at Fort Griswold, calling for the unconditional surrender of the garrison. Colonel Ledyard had but 150 men all told, but he returned a gallant refusal. A second time a Brit- ish flag of truce was sent forward, this time with the information that if the works should be carried martial law would be enforced. We shall not surrender, was the brave reply, let the consequences be what they may! Over the awful struggle which ensued between the eight hundred British regulars and the one hundred and fifty Continental volunteers who opposed 308 NEW LONDON, CONNECTICUT. them a veil may xvell be drawn. No annals recite a more desperate re- sistance on the one hand or a more determined onslaught on the other. Englishmen contested with the de- scendants of Englishmen, and both fought as alien foes might never have battled. By sheer force of numbers the British won the day, swarming over the ramparts like madmen when the garrison, absolutely powerless, flung down their arms. This token of surrender, however, did not avail. The enraged redcoats poured a ter- rible fire upon their defenceless en- emy, and Colonel Ledyard, presenting his sword to the British commander, was run through the heart. Infuri- ated by their fierce struggle up the crest of the hill, their wrath intensified, as they afterward declared, by the con- tinued resistance of some of the gar- rison after the majority had sur- rendered, they swept across the narrow confines of the fort like a pestilence which leaves only hideous corpses in its wake. When their fury had sub- sided, eighty-five of the original one hundred and fifty defenders of the hill lay stark dead within the ramparts; almost every one of the remainder was wounded, the majority mortally; the loss of the British was itself consid- erable; and the sun went down on a scene so dreadful that we of a later tinie who read the record must pray for the peace of the Anglo-Saxon na- tions. Whenever one of our Con- gressional jingoes takes it into his head to deliver a warlike harangue he ought first to read anew the story of Fort Griswold as a preventive. Stop! stop! cried a British officer at the height of the massacre. In the name of heaven, I say, stop! my soul cannot bear it. Blood flowed in streams on every side; the crazed vic- tors plunged their swords and bayonets into dead and wounded alike, till some of the bodies on the morrow showed a score or thirty life-thrusts; the wounded were dragged outside the xvorks, that the torch might be applied to the magazine, and some of them were placed in a rough cart and drawn down the hill toward the landing. When the descent had been but partially accomplished the impetus proved too great for those in charge of the wagon, and to save themselves they dashed aside and left it to find its way to the foot of the declivity. Near the end of its journey it crashed against a tree, and the shock to the maimed and groaning occupants, heaped brutally upon each other, was so fearful that the noise of their cries xvas heard far across the river. Some of them were killed outright; and thus, amid the burning of dwellings and shops on both sides of the river, the saddest chapter in the history of the Revolution came to a close.~ Nothing better marks the rise of New London during the first half of the nineteenth century than the in- creasing importance of the whaling industry. Year by year the capital in- vested in this business expanded, till in 1846 it amounted to nearly two million dollars. New Bedfords share in the industry was much larger than this; but no other American port equalled it. In 1846, no less than seventy-eight vessels, the complete list of which, with names, may be found in Dabolls Almanac for 1847, hailed from New London, while the neigh- boring towns of Stonington and Mystic had a combined fleet of nearly fifty more. The New London crafts aggregated 26,200 tons, and together with the ninety or a hundred fishing vessels of the port employed a small army of some three thousand men. Mr. George T. Marshall of New London relates in a recent issue of the Day of that city, that more than one hundred thousand barrels of oil were brought into port in 184445. A barrel held thirty-one and one-half gallons, and sold for about $6.30. The wharves were the scene of inces- sant activity, one hundred and fifty ship-carpenters, a hundred caulkers and three hundred riggers, stevedores ~ See article, The Smitten village, in the New Eng- land Magazine, August, 1895. NEW LONDON, CONNECTICUT. 309 and sailors, together with a host of painters, lending life and color to the water-front. All the available space about the wharves was crowded with oil-casks brought, full of oil, from the vessels to be tested; great piles of empty casks, yellow pine lumber and iron hooping might be seen in every direction; money xvas plenty; and the evidences of prosperity abounded. But with 1847 the tide turned, the industry slackened, and the town, in common with New Bedford and the other whaling ports of New England and Long Island, experi- enced a long period of commercial depression. It is only in the last few years that it has taken on new life and begun to cherish wider ambitions for itself. The last whale-ship sailed out of New London harbor years ago, and now the port is not represented by even one of the vessels still engaged in the perilous industry. Some of the fortunes made in the halcyon forties remain, however, and a new spirit of progress has manifested itself in the ancient town. Its growth in recent years has been substantial, and it is gradually becoming again one of the commercial centres of New England. The population of New London at the present time is approximately i6,- 000. The evidences of the antiquity of the town are still many; but it is all the time taking on a more modern appearance. So far as ornamental edifices are concerned, it is equal to any other city of the same size east of the Hudson, and every year sees a substantial increase in the number of its handsome public or semi-public structures. The latest noteworthy addition is that of the brick building at State and Meridian streets, the future home of Munseys Magazine, which is said to be the most extensively circu- lated monthly magazine in the world. The structure is one of the largest in the state, and within its walls a million copies of this magazine may soon be printed, bound and prepared for shipment every month. Another magazine, the Cosmopolitan, has built for itself a home at Irvington, N. Y.; and who knows but a general exodus of the monthly periodicals from the metropolis will follow? Towns like New London, with excel- lent shipping facilities, are peculiarly adapted to the material production of such publications. Land is naturally cheaper in a city of sixteen thousand inhabitants than it is in New York, and other requisite facilities are ob- tainable at lower rates. Among the elements contributing to the recent prosperity of New London must be reckoned the drift of summer population toward it. Situ- ated as it is near the mouth of one of the most charming streams of New England, with the blue waters and cool breezes of the Sound close at hand, the dwellers in the larger cities of the country have flocked to it in ever increasing numbers, until the vicinity of the Pequot House, two miles south of the centre of the toxvn, is now comparable in its artificial beauty, as it is also in its natural at- tractiveness, to the famous cottage colony of Newport. On both sides of the river handsome villas are beiug erected every year, good stone roads are branching out in all directions, well kept lawns and hedges are multi- plying, and within a few seasons the shore for miles east and west will be graced with pleasant summer homes. Every August the New York Yacht Club, with its hundred white-winged cruisers, sails majestically up the Sound and into the river, where the vessels remain aL anchor over night and illuminate the surrounding coun- try with their van-colored pyrotech- nics. Each year until the present, the Yale and Harvard crews have con- tested with each other on the Thames, and thousands of spectators have been drawn to the town to see the battle of the Crimson and the Blue. Race-day xvas long the festal occasion of the year in New London. Long trains of crowded coaches drew into the station at the foot of State Street on the morn- ing of the regatta, and the streets were 310 gay all day with pretty girls appropri- ately decked in the colors of the con- testants, enthusiastic collegians armed with tin horns and partisan emblems, folk from the neighboring towns at- tracted quite as much by the incidental features of the occasion as by the race itself, excited graduates who seemed to have sipped from the Fountain of Youth, and various other people who had evidently discovered some ruddier fountain. But this year there will be no college regatta on the American Thames. The Cornell, Harvard, Co- lumbia and Pennsylvania eights, erst- while visitors to New London, will row over a New York course, and the Yale crew is to try its fortune at Hen- ley; so there will be no eager watch- ing at Winthrop Point for the rival boats as they sweep down the four- mile course to its conclusion at the big bridge, no long excursion train following the slender craft from start to finish, no crowded steamers or gaily decked pleasure boats, no fusil- lade of cannon and whistles as the vic- tors, big and brawny, stripped to the skin and wet as so many seals, glide between the final flag-posts. But it cannot be long before the excellence of the course attracts, if not the Yale and Harvard crews again, the oars- men of other universities. New London is now a modern city in all its essential aspects. It has a handsome public library; a group of ornamental schoolhouses, including the Bulkeley High School for young men and the Williams Memorial In- stitute for young women; a commodi- ous brick railway station and good hotel accommodations, the latter be- ing augmented in the summer by two large hotels on either side of the river near its junction with the Sound; and many handsome churches, among them St. Jamess Episcopal church, where Samuel Seabury, the first American Episcopal bishop, and a long-time resident of New London, lies buried, and where the other day the one hundredth anniversary of his death was fittingly commemorated by a great company of laymen, clergy and bishops, with the venerable Pre- siding Bishop at their head. It has been selected as the dividing point between the New Haven and Old Col- ony railroad systems, and plans are now in progress which will make it one of the most important railway centres in the New England states. The Norwich line of steamers to New York has its headquarters here, and from this port, not from the city which bears the name of the line, the fine vessels of the fleet take their depart- ure. Among these steamers is the City of Lowell, one of the fastest two steamboats on Long Island Sound, and perhaps the fastestit will not do to say anything to the contrary in New London. She has made the trip from New York to her wharf in New London in five hours, which is proof that she is an extremely able craft. New London has also a substantial new armory for its militia, a theatre with modern equipment and decora- tions, electric cars, smooth boulevards along the river shore, a casino for its summer guests at the Pequot, electric lights and an excellent water supply, prosperous banking and commercial institutions, well-stocked shops, ex- tensive manufactories of a great variety of things from sewing-silk to printing-presses, ship-yards, marine railways, and the longest drawbridge in the world, a mighty structure with a draw of 503 feet. The soldiers and sailors monument, to be dedicated on the sixth of May, makes one more of a group of local historical memorials already notablethe impressive gran- ite shaft which rises a hundred and fifty feet above the ramparts of Fort Griswold and commemorates the gal- lant defence of J78J, the recently erected monument marking the site of the ancient Avery homestead at Po- quonnoc, and the John Mason me- morial near Mystic, where the warlike Pequot tribe was destroyed in a night. To these the Winthrop monument at Bulkeley Square is to be added in the immediate future. NEW LONDON, CONNECTICUT. AUNT DOROTHY. By N. 7. Welles. IN those days of long ago, when our grandmothers were blushing maidens and our grandfathers were encouraging their first moustaches, all women were beautiful and all men gallant; at least we are led to believe so by the pictures they show us and the stories they tell us. And they were happy; no clouds, no sorry days, no disappointed lovers or broken-hearted maidens. They say it is a new feature of civilization for youth not to be happy. We condole with ourselves for having been born so late; and we dream day-dreams, and see the sun ever shining through rose-covered arbors, tingeing the cheeks of pretty girls who have nothing to do but sip tea and chat with their admirers. Ah, those were graceful days, and we live in a prosaic age. For some special reasons I should like to have lived in those other days, for then I might have known my great aunt Dorothy. She was beautiful, with pleasant curves about her mouth and the light of merriment in her eyes. Her cheeks were smooth, with the reflection of dimples in them, and her hands, soft white things, lay folded in her lap. There was something more about my aunt Dorothy; it was notice- able in the lay of the soft curls in her neck and the turn of her pretty head; it was coquetry. This is what her old daguerreotype tells me when I hold it slanting in the sunlight and look into the pretty face that grew old and passed long, long ago. It was while I was looking at this and asking my grandmother many questions, that she told me of the diarythe old, yellow thing with torn and dusty pages which had been written by those round, white hands. How many secrets I learned from those old pages! Girls may look different nowmay curl their hair rather than comb it back xvith such precision, may add ruffles and dispense with grace; yet their hearts have been the same through all agesand it takes a girl to read them. Her heart has been made to flutter or keep still at the sight of a manly form. It makes no difference whether he wore short clothes and silver knee- buckles or dresses himself in swad- dling pantaloons hiding all the grace- ful curves which any man, be he as unsentimental as he will, is proud to expose,the result has been the same. And when I read written in a cramped hand on a particularly yellow page the words, He has gone to a fair far countrye over manye seas, and I am, 0, 50 lonely, I know my great aunt had a lover, that he left her, and that she was sorry. I know her heart swelled with emotion, filling her little breast to bursting. I know more, that sorry tears came to her eyes, and she brushed them away, even said they did not come. It does not matter that she wore her pretty frocks and went to all the parties through the countrye side, or that in time she consoled her- self with charmers near at hand. There was a time when she was not consoled, when the most perfect forms were faulty as compared to one, when the sweetest voices were harsh, and the whole world seemed suddenly to have gone wrong. And it was while look- ing into this secret of her life that we became acquainted and I knew and loved my pretty aunt Dorothy. There were two of them,my grandmother and my aunt Dorothy, who was older than my grandmother and much prettier. They lived in New York, not many miles from the great metropolisnotsO great then as now. Even in that time it was quite the thing to live out and away from what seemed 3 312 AUNT DOROTHY. the bustle of a big city, and I am told their home was particularly attractive. It was built by a German, and was bought by my grandfather for a large sum of money, which they say he took out of his own stronge boxes and delivered in person. My grandmother is never weary of telling me of this home. There were van-colored win- dows brought all the way from Paris, and rare carvings from Holland. There was a polished stairway and balusters, with a reception room so large that fifty people could sit in it in comfort, and manye other rooms richly appointed. And here it was that Edgar left his Dorothy to amuse herself while he travelled in foreign parts. Dorothy was a blonde, and even in that remote day was fated to wear blue, while my grandmother, with her brown eyes and hair, was given pink. But her diary tells me she was wilful in no small measure, and on one occa- sion, despite all advice to the contrary, bought and had made for herself a crimson dress with lace in abundance and velvet ribbon to make perfect. Had she never bought the crimson dress, or had she listened to the advice of older heads, she might never have had a romance nor my grandmother a love story; but she did buy it, and Herr Wilhelm saw her in it with her white neck and shoulders bare and little curls creeping out from her coil and resting where his lips dared not touch. They danced together, and while the music grew softer, he told her of Germany, his native land. Edgar was in Ger- many, and her breath came quicker while her cheeks grew pale or crimson as he spoke of the pretty frauleins her lover was sure to meet. She kept him talking of Germany,it seemed to bring Edgar nearer; so he spoke of its cities, of its old palaces, and of the Rhine. The Danube was the prettier, and Austria had the Danube; all for- eigners sail the Danube,it was as much a part of their visit to Europe as the galleries and conservatories. Oh, yes, Edgar would sail the Danube, and she must not care if he sailed it with some fair fraulein, and if when the music echoed on the bosom of the river and came back tenfold sweeter to his ears, he came closer and whispered 1Iifeine liebe in her ears or held her hands for only a moment. It was ex- cusable; people grew sentimental on the Danube; but when they touch the land and the sun shines on them, all this disappears like the dew, and like the dew it is expected to disappear. She mustnt care,it was very silly to care about such things; for Edgar was sure to return,he thought he might leave Germany himself under such great inducement. She smiled back at him for this re- mark, and whirled away to a strain of fresh music, more determined than ever not to care if Edgar was happy for such a little while, and thought it best to be herself as happy as it was possible to be with Herr Wilhelm. But when she was alone in the shade of the palmsfor they had palms in those days, and had them scattered about quite as artistically as now she wished Edgar would not sail the Danube nor, in fact, stay in the empire at all. She wished his whole hateful journey at an end and that he was home again. She thought to write to him and tell him so; then she laughed aloud at her own foolishness in wish- ing to deny him such small pleasure as might be found in pressing a fair frauleins hand or whispering Mejize liebe when the moon was shining. No, it was much wiser to be still and get such pleasure as she could from those about her. Dorothy and my grandmother saw very little of each other at this party. As usual, the younger was dressed in pink, which nowhere showed to such poor advantage as when compared with Dorothys crimson; so Dorothy, with her usual kindheartedness, kept away. In fact, the older sister felt very sorry for the younger. It is a terrible thing to feel ones self plain and to watch eyes turn away to rest upon a more beautiful face. So Dorothy had AUNT DOROTHY. 313 grown to humor Elizabethmy grandmothers name was Elizabeth and to grant her many small favors; nor was it hard, for nothing is so con- ducive to good natnre as success, and Dorothy felt that she was a success. Not long after this, when the even- ing was fair and soft, with warm south winds, Herr Wilhelm took my aunt for a sail on the lake. I think she must have had a pleasant time, for she writes she had a very pleasurable sea- son and that Herr Wilhelm picked her more water lilies than any one ever had before. Then she adds, He is pleasant, but too familiar with his man- ners; and she wonders if she had best go with him any more. Silly aunt Dorothy, not to know that every girl who reads these lines, even should they reach down through all the ages, would not know just what Wilhelm did. He made excuse to touch her hand, perhaps he tried to hold it only for a moment,but my aunt would not. Of course she would not! Then he came near as if to put his arm about her; but again he was foiled by my sweet, sensitive aunt Dorothy. They said silly things, too, or at least he did, for she writes that the moon shone never so brightly be- fore. Why did the moon shine brighter to-night? Not because of love, for she did not love him; she thought it was brighter because he told her it was. Oh, we girls all know he said sweet things and whispered them close in her ear! Several days pass before she sees Herr Wilhelm again. He has the tact of a successful lover, and gives his lady time to wish for his return. Then we read that he takes her to manye places; and curious people began asking disagreeable questions. Did she hear from Edgar? When was he expected to return ? and, Was he enjoying himself? She answers their inquiries, then consoles herself that Edgar is with other maidens whose grace and smile are born of travel and rich society. It was best to be safe; he might forget her and marry one of these foreign belles, and it would be disagreeable to have people think that she cared. But my sweet maiden aunt could not always control herself so admirably, and would often sit silent while friends were about her, compar- ing Herr Wilhelm with Edgar. She did not like light hair,of that she was always certain; Edgars brown hair was much prettier than Herr Wil- helms blonde,but then, of course Edgar was the nicer. It is my grandmother who first re- bukes my aunt. Doubtless she has heard some of the passing remarks; for she speaks to her sister manye angry words, and among them this, that Edgar is not a man to seek a fickle woman. This brings tears to my aunts eyes, and she accuses everyone of cruelty, especially Edgar, or he could never go away and stay so long. Then she dries her eyes and tells her sister that she is young and easily mis- taken, that Edgar is not a man to admire a moping woman. This con- versation brought sorrow to my aunts heart, for she writes it out in her diary and tells how sorry she is that Eliza- beth is angry at her. She ends by giv- ing her sister a pleasant surprise in the shape of a party ofl the lawn with lights and music. But Dorothy did not escape with only my grandmothers admonition. There were troublesome people then as now, those who had outlived their coquetry, or never possessed that charm, and hence despised it in others. These gathered in little groups about the garden, and when Dorothy passed leaning on the arm of Herr Wilhelm, or danced with some other of her admirers, they criticised the pretty, charming thing, and attached ugly epithets to her sweet name, among which fickle and flirt were most prominent. One more daring than the rest suggested that when Edgar returned he be told these things and allowed to choose a girl to wife who could wait patiently his return. Some of these remarks reach Dorothys ears, and she becomes very angry and 4 AUNT D.ORO THY. sits down to cry. Perhaps nothing in her whole document shows my aunts sweet disposition better than this little incident, for she tells us she cries through one whole darling minuet, then she concludes to forgive such silly, prating tongues and to recom- pense herself for such injustice by being as happy as possible. Edgar had not written for some time. There had been a farewell visit to London, with numberless for- gotten things to be done. There was an old cathedral to be seen, and a gallery overflowing with pictures, such as no traveller could afford to pass by. And the kings palace, he could not think of going back without seeing that. Then there were shops to visit and trinkets and keepsakes to be bought. So the days flew by, until three weeks had passed since one word had been written Dorothy, who was trying so hard to be happy while he was away. Then it was too late to write, for the same ship that would carry his letter would bear himself. It was evening when he came back, a summer evening calm and peaceful. The air was heavy with the scent of flowers; the crickets chirped in the shrubbery; the evening star shone where the sun had set. On the quiet bosom of the lake a little boat was gliding on to reach the other shore. It held Dorothy and Herr Wilhelm. He had promised her fresh water lilies. Edgar had ridden over. He had sent no message,it would be so pleasant to surprise Dorothy. He pictured her face, just a little pale from having waited so long, and her eyes grown wistful with disappointment. He should have written oftener,he told himself he had not done right by Dorothy; but he would make it all up now. It xvould be such pleasure though to read love in her eyes; it is pleasing to be loved, especially by a pretty woman,and Dorothy was such a pretty woman. But where was Dorothy? He brushed his small-clothes and straight- ened his knee-buckles. He lifted his cocked hat and placed it lightly on his head. Then he left his horse and walked straight up the wide path to the open door. On the way he met Eliza- beth; she had been to feed her rabbits. Edgar!and so you have come back ! She put her little hand in his and tried to tell him how glad they would all be that he had returned, especially Dorothy, who at this time was rowing on the lake with Herr Wilhelm. We all wished her not to go so often with him,it makes people say nasty things, and none of us like nasty things; but she would. She would be ever so happy now he had returned. Should she run down to the waters edge and beckon them to come back? But he would not let her go to beckon. Something came up in his throat and choked him; he wondered if love could gather itself into such disagreeable chunks. He asked Elizabeth to sit on the bench beside him and tell the news. And she chatted, telling him of the parties and the happy times they had had while he xvas away, and of Dorothys crimson dress that everyone thought so pretty. And he listened, growing more angry every moment. Then he rose sud- denly, saying he had come to pay his respects to the family,would she please tell them? He had brought a trinket for her mother,would she please tell her he would send it by the post? Also give his respects to her father, whom he hoped to see soon. He turned his face away, and the shadows kept her from seeing it; but she felt it was not pleasant to look at. When he looked back iuto my grandmothers face, a kind expression covered his features. She returned his glance, placed her hand once more in his, promised to tell Dorothy he had called,and then he rode away. Had he waited for Dorothy to return, and watched her dismiss Herr Wilhelm with one wave of her fairy hand, I doubt not he would have re- mained happy, and my story would AUNT DOROTHY. 315 never have been written. But he did not wait. Her smiles, her dimples, her coquettish ways and pleasant words were forgotten things, and in their stead he saw a fickle woman. He rode straight back to the village, past Hope Penningtons house. He had known Hope Pennington since boyhood; he had swung on her gate, and eaten her fried apple pies. She would tell him all. He found that aged spinster leaning on the gate watching the approaching darkness. When he rode away from that gate, a dark light shone in his eyes and the lines about his mouth were deep and ragged: The moon had set. When Dorothy returned, she felt very indignant at Edgars disappear- ance. Indeed, said this haughty maiden, he takes a journey and bids me console myself; he returns, and finds me consoled,and is angry! Men are very unreasonable creatures, and hard to understand. The next post brought her a letter, a little thing, no larger than her hand. It told her to dismiss Herr Wilhelm at once and promise never to see him again, or consider their engagement broken. She read and re-read this command, allowing the words to burn their way into her puzzled brain; then she tore it into tiny fragments and threw it at the grate. She informed her lover that she should do precisely as she thought best. It was very ridiculous of him to make such de- mands upon any lady. Then in a spiteful little sentence she asked how he should know she desired to dismiss Herr Wilhelm. This had a very un- looked-for effect; for it caused Edgar to sail for Boston, to enter the service of a well known firm of shipping mer- chants. A year had passed. Summer had gone and come again, taking Herr Wilhelm back to the Rhine, and leav- ing the country, especially my grand- mothers home, more lonely than ever. There were not so many eligible men about, and Dorothy was beginning to feel the effects of ennui. More than once she had thought of Edgar and wished he would return. Once she wrote him a note, begging him to re- turn, but she burned it. Of course he would return,lovers always did. They were sitting in the garden in the shade of the linden, watching the setting sun, when Edgar came back. He looked so wondrous fine, Dor- othy wrote, with his big knee buckles and crifrison coat, that my heart went straight out to him. He had come at last. Dorothy ran to meet him. They were hidden by a clump of bushes now, and when he slid from his saddle and held out his hand to her, she put both hands into it, and raised her pretty lips to be kissed, and whis- pered in her most charming voice, I knew you would return; kiss me, Edgar. One moment he held her in his strong arms, while he looked down into her pretty face. He kissed her cheeks, her lips and the dimple in her chin; then he released her, and they walked back to the house together. Edgar had changed in many ways. He was more gentle and quiet, and she thought more attentive to the wants of everybody. He did not smile so much, and often looked away when her face was raised to his. The old people, especially my great-grand- father, had much to say. He was very fond of Edgar and was glad to see him back. He had planned too long to have him for a son to be easily disap- pointed. But Edgar was not talka- tive. He answered their questions and tried to be sociable, but it was evident there was something on his mind. He looked away when one was talking to him, and often had to have a question repeated. At last he came out with it. He addressed my great- grandfather, looking straight into his eyes. Sir, he said, we have been friends a long time. My father was your friend, and our interests have been one too long to have them separated. Now I have come to ask a favor, one THEY THAT ARE CHRISTS. greater than I have ever asked before. I ask you for your daughter. But you have asked that before, my son, and xvere not refused. But now I ask you for Elizabeth. He leaned forward, taking my grand- mothers hand lightly in his own. You will remember, he added, addressing my great-grandfather, Dorothy released me of her promise. She is plain, my great-grandfather spoke in apology. So plain she is beautiful, and so patient she can wait. I have learned, he added, looking away at the tree tops, that a woman may be too beau- tiful. This then was the punishment of coquetry, a punishment so cruel that the victim could not cry out or speak. She fled from the faces about her, and sought refuge in her room, while Elizabeth, plain Elizabeth, who had never had a lover in all her life, was congratulated and caressed. And Edgar was Edgar Paine, and Elizabeth my dear old grandmother. There are other entries in the diary. One tells of a grand wedding, when Edgar and Elizabeth were married, and of the cousins who came from New York, and the beautiful dresses they wore. There is no other word of Aunt Dorothy. Her silence is sadder than words; for in it I read the humility of a beautiful woman and the bravery of a proud heart trying to forget. THEY THAT ARE CHRISTS. by Alice DAlcko. D 0TH it offend theethat right hand of thine? Hath human love betrayed the Love divine? Then let it go, nor heed nor count the cost. What shall avail thee, if thy soul be lost? Doth it condemn theethat sad heart of thine? Far deeper woe once pierced the heart divine. Heed not its cries; Gods clearer vision sees All things in alland noteth even these. Lo! through the gates of life a motley throng Of halt and maimed and blind with thankful song In triumph pass,each earth-wound glorified Like His who once, with thieves, was crucified. THE NEWS OF THE EVACUATION OF BOSTON AND THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. Leaves from the Journal of Dr. Ezra Stiles. Edited by Amelia L. Hill. ONE often obtains a more accu- rate idea of important events from the journal of an actor in them than from the account of the his- torian. The following pages record the daily life of an eminent American citizen, whose home was broken up by the disturbances which accompanied the opening of the Revolution. Be- fore the war, Doctor Stiles, who after- wards became the president of Yale College, was settled over the Congre- gational Church of Newport, at that time the second seaport in New Eng- land. No city felt the injurious effect of Great Britains naval supremacy more. Its harbor was frequently oc- cupied by British war vessels, and its inhabitants suffered the constant dis- quietude of feeling that they were liable to attack without sufficient means of defence. From these causes business practically came to an end in Newport with the year 1775, and those who no longer had any special reason for remaining in so exposed a place removed their families and goods to towns more remote from the coast and less open to the incursions of the enemy. Doctor Stiles took his family to Dighton, Massachusetts, on the Taunton River, some miles above the head of Mt. Hope Bay, beyond the reach of the marauding men of war. From here he journeyed constantly to Newport and neighboring towns to preach to congregations, frequently to soldiers, and was thus in constant intercourse with those in command of our army. His account of the troubles incident to the evacuation of Boston and the Declaration of Inde- pendence presents a vivid picture of the changes the war brought about in the family life of the period. March II, 1776. Packing up my things for removal. March 12. Preparing for removal to Dighton. March i~. Embarked with my family of seven children, and three loads of goods, in a sloop at Fogland. At II in the Morng anchored at Assonet. March ~ At VII this Morng landed safely at Dighton. March 15. Carted niy goods to Mr. Whitmarshes, half of whose house I have hired for i6 Doll. a year. March i6. Lodged with my family in my own house. March i~. I preached at Dighton. This Morng or rather about midnight a firing about Boston, very heavy about Sunrise, and heard here until noon while we were at meeting and by persons at meeting. March i8. About X A. M. Mr. Channing brought in the agreeable but almost incredible news that yester- day the Kings troops evacuated Boston, and 500 of ours having had the small- pox entered and took possession of it. Confirmed by repeated reports from Taunton all day. March i~. Col. Ezra Richmond informed me at XI that a man is ar- rived who lodged in Boston the night before last and says i~oo of our troops entered Boston on Lords day, and that the Plunder and Destruction was not so bad as we had heard. Mr. just from the camp told me he saw our troops enter Boston on Lords day. This afternoon I rode to Taunton. In the evening we saw a fire in the North. 317 318 THE EVACUATION OF BOSTON. March 20. We learn that the fire last night was at the Castle. The Kings troops set fire to a Block house there. March 21. I saw several Gentle- men who came out of Boston last evening, sun an hour high, say the Enemy are blowing up the Castle and firing upon our people, who are en- trenching on Dorchester Neck on point next the Castle. The small-pox in fourteen houses designated with flags and Sentries. No entrance into or Depart out of Town but by Passes. The Tories and Mandamus Councillor gone off in the Fleet. Some Tories left behind. When we possessed Dort. Hill, and Nook Hill, the Enemy threw themselves in motion, as if to come out and attack us. 2000 were actually sent down to the Castle on Wednesday night last week, and then were to land on Dorchester, while G. Howe with 1500 and the Light Horse to come out to Roxbury; at the same time those at Bunker Hill to come out upon the left wing. Thursday Morn- ing (14th) there happened a violent N. E. storm which is said to have disad- justed their plans. They returned from the Castle. A council of War was held. Orders were given to em- Friday the 15th the Inhabitants were bark, which struck the Tories. On ordered not to come out of their Doors. A week or more before this they had been loading the ships, but now a departure was obvious and known, and the Embarka went on with the greatest precipitation. They expected that G. Washington would have knowledge of this Embarka or at least the real prepara for it, and the whole of the Kings Army was filled with Fear and even struck with Terror at the Apprehension that our army would rush in upon them. They left Bunker Hill Lords day Morning, 17th, at Eight oclock, leaving Images of Hay dressed like Sentries standing with a label on the breast of one in- scribed Welcome Brother Jonathan. They left the To about io oclock, and about noon our troops marched in and took possession, full of Caution lest a stratagem might surprize them. During the feint of an attack tis sd G. Howe drafted 3000 Volunteers, but a great Reluctancy appeared, a Mur- mur ran through the lines; Another Bunker Hill fight said they to one another. These were dismissed, and a second time a large body drafted for the same purpose. A greater aver- sion arose, and Bunker Hill again and Murmuring~ -so as to drift toward Mutiny, and a breaking out into a public Declara they would not go on this service. This the report of those in Boston who saw it. The General gave over the attack. Something of this is probably true. It is certain they went off with Fright, Terror and Agitation, tho in a good cause brave Troops. G. Howe demanded all the Linens and Woolens out of the Stores. Some houses plundered by the Sol- diers, but not by Gen. Howes permis- sion. About 300 old buildings de- stroyedrest left in good order. Less damage than expected. The goods carried off by the Tories and army 50,000 sterling. Kings mili- tary stores, cannon, 2700 Bush. Wheat, Coal, etc. Left 70,000 be- side European goods estimated ioo or Li 5o,ooo. March 22. Returned to Dighton last night. March 23. The whole country in alarm. General Assembly of Rhode Ild. have sent Messrs Ellery* and Marchantt to G. Washington to sol- licit Troops and a general officer for Newport, where they are much alarmed. Wallacet is gone out of the *William Ellery, well known as one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence. He was an infinential mem- ber of the continental Congress, and an active patriot. Henry Marchant was a member of the continental Con- gress, and at one time Attorney General of Rhode Islandalso a jodge of the United States District Conrt. He was ardent in the prerevolntionary movements, and was a member of the State Convention that adopted the United States Con- stitntion. 4 Sir James Wallace, British naval officer, was stationed at Newport in 17745, in command of the frigate Rose, twenty gons, and greatly annoyed the people of Rhode Island by the detention of their shipping and attempts to carry off their property. He afterwards commanded the Exteri- ment. In 5779 he was captnred in the Exteriment, by Connt DEstaing. He became a Rear Admiral in 1794, vice-Admiral in ~ Admiral of the Blne in s8oi, and in 17935 was Governor of Newfonndland. He died in Lon- don in 5103. THE EVACUATION OF BOSTON. 319 Harbor. Mr. returned to Vir- ginia from London whither he had been for orders, but the Bishop of Lqndon refused to ordain him for a Country in Rebellion. March 24. Lords day. I preached at Dighton. Col. Bowers came from the camp yesterday P. M., says the fleet not sailed yet, though some ships of Tories sailed for Halifax. March 25. This Aft. IV at Dighton we heard cannon toward Boston. March 26, noon. Report of more cannon. Major Tupper* and a party of provincials said to be cut off. March 27. Mr. Bailies from Cam- bridge yesterday says all things still. About half the fleet sailed on Monday. Firing from among the ships at De- parture. I rode to Warren. Col. Beicher told me that Gov. Bradfordt expected 2000 from Cambridge into the Colony of Rd Island this after- noon, and Gen. Washington to dine at Providence today, but Mr. Cahoon just from Prov. dont confirm it. March 28. Returned with my daughter Ruth from Warren. Re- port that Quebec is takendoubt- fult March 29. I went to Rhode Island, lodged at Mr. McCurrys. March 30. Wind N. E. & S. P. IJucertain the course of the fleet, whether for Halifax, Rd. Isld., N. York, or etc., etc. March 31. Lords day. Preached in my own pulpit in Newport. Alarm in the Morning that 20 ships were seen off Newport amidst a thick fog. *Major, afterwards colonel, Benjamin Tupper, born in Stoughton, Mass., 101738, was a soldier in the French War of 1756. Soon alter the Battle of Lexington he was made a major at Boston. He served under Gen. Gates at 5ara- toga, and was brevetted General toward the close of the war. In 1787 he settled at~Marietta, Ohio. tGovernor William Bradford was a descendant of Gover- nor Bradford of the old Plymouth colony. He studied medi- cine and practised at Bristol, Rhode Island, where he huilt a fine residence. He then studied and practised law and he- caine eminent in that profession. He was chosen Deputy Governor of Rhode Island, in i~n, and elected a delegate to the continental congress, but never took his seat. When Bristol wasbombardedhy captain Wallace in z77~,Governor Bradford went on hoard the Rose and treated with the British commander for the cessation of the cannonade. His own house among others caught fire and was de- stroyed. tThis was at the time of the expedition under Arnold and Montgomery. Wind all day N. E. and N. Heavy snow storm especially last night thick fog in Morning. April i. Alarm sent out yesterday by Express which left Head. Quarters at V A. M. This Morng at VII ex- press sent off to contradict it. The news yesterday spread amazingly. At IV P. M. the Beacon at Providence was fired to alarm the country, and Gen. Cook* sent Express to G. Wash- ington to reach him by IX in the evening, and to alarm all along down to the Camp. It is supposed and said that there are fifteen thousand men on their march for Rhode Island this Morning. This Aft. I saw one who marched from Prov. this Morn- ing. Several Companies have arrived on this Isld, but the most were stopped. Four Captives were sent last week from the country to be ex- changed for our prisoners on board Wallace. Three refused to go on board, and were imprudently enlisted into our army on this Isld. One of these informed Col. Babcockt yester- day morng that he saw 20 or 30 sail off, and occasioned the false alarm, but none have been seen since. April 2. Wind N. E. exceedingly fair for the Fleet if bound to Newport or Virginia. Last Saturday were on this Isld 6oo men, of which 70 were sick. On Conanicut 317, one half of the latter brot over to Newport Lords day evening. April 3. Thick fog. Fog all day. The fleet sailed for Boston Tuesday and Wednesday last week leaving 5 ships. April 4. Clear. We have here at Newport a fleet of about fifteen sail under Capt. Wallace of which 4 men of war. One sloop went ashore. April ~. Wallace and his fleeT are ~General cook, Governor of Rhode Island. The in- scription on his monument at Providence says he merited and won the approbation of his fellow citizens and was honored with the friendship and confidence of Washington. Icolonel Henry Babcock, son of chief Justice Babcock of Rhode Island, was a graduate of vale college. He entered the army and became captain at eighteen years of age. He served at Lake George and at Ticonderoga, and in February, 1776, was made commander of the troops at Newport. He was removed from his position the following May on ac- count of insanity. 320 THE EVACUATION OF BOSTON. anchored at Coasters Harbor, a mile above the town. April 6. Sunrise a firing began. Wallace and his fleet had anchored last night, within half a mile of Cod- dingtons Cove. Our soldiers under the command of the intrepid and gal- lant Col. Babcock the latter part of the night had carried down from Head Int at Bannisters House, two ~8 pounders to the shore, and began fir- ing on the fleet before sunrise and con- tinued it for 2 hours from V 20 to VII 20. Before this the ships weighed anchors, and made off, having re- turned half a dozen shot while we had given them between 30 & 40 shot. I counted 33. All this morning and before day much heavy firing off at sea was heard in Town. I heard sundry guns at sea, while Col. Bab- cock was attacking Wallace, and at VIII oclock were seen 2 ships under Block Isld, & 4 E. of Block Isld. Alarm. At IX oclock in the morn- ing seen a ship, standing in from sea, firing every io minutes as she came along. About XI~ or noon she came to anchor off the fort. She proved to be the Glasgow of 24 guns, Capt. Howe, and is much shattered and damaged. By this time Wallace and the rest of his fleet, which had again anchored after Breakfast at N. end of Conanicut, were under sail out for sea. His fleet met the Glasgow as she was anchoring. Wallace sent his boat to Howe, which instantly returned with- out stopping his ship. Three were left out last night. One, viz., Glas- gow, is come in, leaving the Bomb brig and another out. April 7. Lords day. At 8 this Morning began from Brentons point a heavy firing upon the Glasgow and a Hospital ship, in a very thick fog, so that I could scarcely discern the ships though I could hear the Shrieks and Distress and confusion or Noise of Tumult on board. She instantly cut cable and very slowly went over to Conanicut. In half an hour Col, Richmond discharged 35 cannon shot at the ships. At noon our people took a prize sloop coming into the harbor. I preached A. 1\I. Fog and wind. April i7. It is said that all the ships have left Newport. Col. Bab- cock has removed the troops into the compact part of the Town. April i8. The Congress by a re- solve passed last month have opened Commerce xvith all the world except Gt. Britain and the British W. Indies. April i~. Col. Babcock arrived under guard to Providence accused of Rigor to his officers. He is an excel- lent officer, well understands his duty in the military way, having been brot up in the service all the last war. But the poor gentleman is subject to a species of Lunacy or Lunatic Frenzy which has for years past been consti- tutional xvith him. This is heightened into Madness and Distraction by Drink, and though he takes great pains to refrain and keep himself from Liquor, yet at times he lacks self gov- ernment and in these times behaves much out of character. He is other- wise extremely sensible and of true military spirit and fit for a general. He was the first man who set foot in Boston after its evacuation. He put his Lt. Col. under Guard for a Misde- meanor and defers the Court Marshal too long, upon which the Gov. and Coin. of Safety at Prov. sent for Col. Babcock. July 19. The vote for Indepy passed in Congress the second day of July. I read in the prints that the Declara of Independence published by the Assembly of the Committees of Conference of Pensylva at the State House in Philadelphia. The Kin& s arms xvere immediately taken down and burnt before the State House. It was also published at N. York at the head of all the Brigades of the army, and immediately the Kings arms were taken down and also the Kings Equestrian Statue in that City, and all publicly burnt in the City of New York. The day before yesterday it was published at the State House in Boston, and immediately the Kings THE EVACUATION OF BOSTON. 321 arms were taken down there, and all the Tory signs, and all committed to the Flames before the State House. What Indignity has the King brought upon himself in these Colonies, which once gloried in the Sovereigns of the House of Brunswick! The Eques- trian Statue of Geo. III erected in 1770 thrown from its pedestal and broken in pieces, and we hear the lead where- with this Monument is made is to be run into Bullets. At the same time an Act passed That if any person within this State (R. I.) shall under pretence of Preaching or Praying, or in any other way or manner whatever, ac- knowledge or declare the said King (of G. Britian) to be our rightful Lord or Sovereign or shall pray for the Success of his Arms or that he may vanquish or overcome all his Enemies shall be deemed guilty of a high llVIis- demeanor and shall therefor be pre- sented by the G. Jury of the Co. where the offence shall be committed to the Supr Courts of the same Co. and upon Conviction thereof shall forfeit as a fine to and for the Use of this State the sum of 100 pounds and pay all costs of Prosecution, and shall stand com- mitted to Gaol until the same be satis- fied. This was passed on Saturday last, and instantly the people of the Ch. of Eng. in Newport went and re- moved all their Prayer-books & c. & c., shut up their Church, and had no ser- vice in it last Lords day, though Mr. Bisset their Pastor, xvas well and walk- ing the streets. Among those to whom the Test had been tendered be- fore were 3 ministers in Newport. Elder Maxcy, an aged Sab. Baptist, a pious and inoffensive man whom I never heard to be a Tory, but it seems his honest mind was not strong eno to (ligest this Revolution. He came be- fore the Assembly and they excused him for his age. Revd Mr. Rusmeyer the Moravian minister declined the Test and took the affirmation that his Conscience was against war. Revd ?vlr. Kelly, a young Baptist minister, had all along been persuaded that the Kings troops would prevail, not a little affected xvith Baptist politics, carried about with him an air of in- genious sly Prudence, prayed all along for the King, particularly on Fast Day, and went to conduct so as to fall in with the prevailing side, and so as to have laid up some merit in case the King prevailed. His character other- wise is exceeding good and amiable. I could have xvished that they had let these ministers alone, because I am persuaded they would have given no offence after the act prohibiting pray- ing for the Kingand neither of them were in the least active or dangerous. Mr. Kelly took the affirmation and dishonored himself by declaring agst the Lawfulness of taking up Arms, in all cases, though he said if any was lawful, the present American war was so, and that he could pray for success to the American. He is the 1st Bap- tist in N. E. who ever declared against the Lawfulness of arms, and perhaps is the only Man in the world that can pray for success to Arms, while he be- lieves their Unlawfulness. This In- consistency was noticed to him by the Assembly. The next day, being Lords day last, he prayed heartily for the Congress, and our army & their success. On a question about send- ing for Mr. Bisset the cli minister, it was considered he had been suffi- ciently handled last winter by Gen. Lee. The other ministers, Mr. Hop- kins, a Congregationalist, and Mr. Thurston, a Baptist, not suspected. 1\/Ir. Tauro the Jew Priest ex. because a foreigner. The Convention of the C. Wealth of Virginia on ~ July re- formed the Liturgy, expunged the Prayers for the King, and ordered them to be made for the Magistrates of this C. Wealth. The Ch. people at Newport or a number of their princi- pals have met and agreed not to go to Meeting in any of the Raccoon Boxes as they call the Meeting Houses of the Pres. & Bap. & c., nor indeed to join in any public worship only the Moravians and Quakers. They are extremely mortified with their Temerity in shutting up the 322 UNSUNG. Doors of their Ch. and evidently want to get them open again, but dont know how to effect it without re- proach. It is said they have sent off Mr. Frank Malbone to get the Con- gress at Philadelphia to open their Ch., poor souls! They may take their own time for it, and do it at their Leis- ure. Nobody bid them shut their Ch. and I trust nobody will open it for them but themselves. Thurs., July i8. Declara. of Inde- pendence at Boston. Pursuant to orders of Hon. Council was pro- claimed from Balcony of St. Us. in Boston by Sheriff of the Co. of Suffolk. It was read with gt joy. A great con- course of people assembled on the occasion, on a sign given 13 Pieces of Cannon were fired at the Fort on Ft. Hill. The Fts. at Dorches. Neck, the Castle, Nantasket, and Pt. Alderton likewise discharging their cannon. Then a detachment of the Artill. fired their cannon i~ times followed by the 2 reg. giving their fire from i~ Div. in succession. These firings corre- sponded to the no. of States United. Then followed an Entertainment in the Council Chamber and patriotic toasts, the Bells of the Town were rung on the occasion, and undis- sembled Festivity cheered and bright- ened every Face. A number of both Houses of Assembly, being prevented by small-pox, assembled at the Coun- cil Chamber in Watertown the same day, when the Dec. was proclaimed by the Sec. from one of the windows. In the eveg all the Kings Arms in Bos- ton, and every sign bearing any re- semblance of it, also every sign of a Tory was taken down, and made a general conflagration of in King St. Aug. 17. Left Newport yesterday, and returned to Dighton at about X P. M. At 4 this side of Newpt Peck- ham told me he had heard Can- non for 2 hrs. At VI I heard and counted 3 distinctly in the valley be- low the Quaker Meeting House in Portsmouth. Was told by 4 persons in Dighton they heard Cannon at Break o day. Some Dighton people imagined they heard guns this A. M. off Cape Cod. I heard none. I was riding from Rehoboth to Kellingly where I lodged with Mr. Thaxter who freard and counted 50 cannon about XI A. M. and the same were heard at Woodstock. This proved to be an eng. bet. 2 Eng. frigates, and a conti- nental vessel of 4 between Block Isld & Fishers Island. Aug. i8. Lords day. At Dighton. After sermon I read the Dec. of Ind. it having been ordered to be read in all Congregations of Massachusetts. UNSUNG. By Mart/ia Gilbert Dickinson. THE hills and valleys of the heart no voice has ever sung; Joy outstrips breath on rushing wing; grief-stricken lips are dumb. There is no chart of ecstasy, no plummet of despair; Men do not measure as they drown, nor scale a vision fair! THE WESTERN RESERVE. By Robert S/rnckleton. THE history of the Western Re- serve is considered to date from the Fonrth of July, 1796; for it was on that day that the party of sur- veyors, sent ont by the Connecticnt Land Company, nnder General Moses Cleaveland, first entered its limits the memorable day on which the settlement of this new country was commenced, as the general termed it and, at the mouth of Conneaut Creek, feasted and held jnbilee in honor of the aus- icious occasion. And yet before this the Western Reserve had a his- tory. Tine, the territory had been overlooked by the earliest explorers. Missionaries, traders, sol- diers, men in search of new scenes, new territoriesall had alike devoted them- selves to the country bor- dering on Lakes Huron, Ontario, Michigan and Superior, leav- ing the region south of Lake Erie strangely alone. It has indeed been thought that La Salle, in one of his earliest journeys, went from Lake Erie to the Ohio, following the course of the Cuyahoga, from where the city of Cleveland now stands, to the Portage near Akron, and thence southward on the Tuscarawas and Muskingum; but that he really went thus through the heart of the Western Reserve is con- jecture alone, as all positive trace of the course of the journey is lost. The first boat to sail past the Re- serve was the Griffo, in 1679, and those on board thought only of reach- ing the Detroit River as quickly as they could. Father Hennepin, how- ever, recorded that the southern shore enclosed a tract of land as large as the kingdom of France. Until well into the next century the region was again left practically alone. A prisoner among the Indian tribes, not long after 1750, was taken through its length and breadth, and, returning to civilization, told with curious particularity of the trees, the rivers, the aboriginal people and their ways, sayings and beliefs. Accounts have come down, too, of a remarkable Indian prophet who, at about this 323 MO5~5 cLEAVELAND. THE SHORE OF LAKE ERIE, NEAR cONNEAIJT. 324 THE WESTERN RESERVE. time, had his home on the Cuyahoga, near Lake Erie, and went about among the tribes, preaching from a curiously marked piece of deerskin which he called the Great Book or Writing, and from which he deduced various doctrines relating to the Good and Evil Spirits and to the course of life which the Indians ought to pur- sue. That the influence of the whites was dangerous, that its tendency was evil, that all white encroachments were ominous and ought to be opposed, were the principal texts of his fervid exhortations; and there is something pathetic in the picture of this first known preacher of the Western Re- serve. It was in November of 1760 that the mighty Pontiac made his first appear- ance in history; and it was at the mouth of the Grand River, in the Western Reserve. Emerging from the forest, he appeared before Major Rogers, who was in charge of an ex- pedition on its way to take possession of Detroit, in accordance with the treaty with the French; and, as the chief was so shortly to mature and develop his great conspiracy, it is with intense interest that one reads the account, given by Rogers, of his manner, his dignity, his questions re garding the manufacture of cloth and iron, his inquiries concerning military discipline and tactics. Near the mouth of Rocky River, not far from Cleveland, history, in 1764, again came to the Reserve. It is the close of an October day, and a fleet of open boats is turning toward the shore. It is a peculiarly danger- ous shore line. For mile after mile bluffs rise perpendicularly from the waters edge, or leave but a narrow strip of beach at their base. It is a locality where, as the missionary Zeis- berger some years later quaintly de- scribed it, in a storm or even in a strong wind no cat could save her- self. Yet here, at a point where there was but a narrow edge of dry land, frowned upon by tree-capped bluffs, Colonel Bradstreet, the commander, directed his men to land. It was pointed out to him that, should a sudden storm arise, there would be great danger; that the river~ s mouth, near by, afforded a secure landing place. But he was smarting under deserved censure from his superiors in the East, and, angry and sullen, would not listen. On the narrow strip his camp was pitched; and in the night a storm arose, and men were drowned, THE MOUTH OF CONNEAUT CREEK. JHE WE TERN RESERVE. 325 and boats were dashed against the cliffs, and cannon and supplies were lost. In the morning, with such boats as remained, Bradstreet em- barked with the regular troop of hi expedition, leaving the provincials, without provisions, to proceed over- land, eastward, a~ best they could. The deserted men marched alono~ the In ian trail which led by the shore of the lakethe old trail which had been u ed for countless generations, and \vhich even in these da ~s is used as a road. Nhere it passes through the city of Cleveland, it is Detroit Street on the western side of the river and Euclid A ~enue on the east. Old Portage is one of the most attractive names in estern Reserve hi, tory. It was at the head of naviga- hon on the Cuyahoga, a short dis- tance below the beautiful, rugge 1 glens and chasms of Cuyahoga Falls. It was here that the once famous Portage Path left the Cuyahoga, and led toward the Tuscarawas; an it was here that a white mans trading post arose, which became well known before t ~e Reserve began to be regu- arly settled, - fter settlements arose, and population was scattered through- out the state, a regular trade was maintained, by means of bateaux and canoes, between the Ohio and Lake Erie, and a fib v of commerce passed by Old Portage and over the Portage Path. So important was this traffic, A REMINDER 0 EARLY DAYS. that in Cleveland, in the early years of the century, there was a special dock, at the foot of what is now South Water Street, for the accommodation of such craft as followed the course of the Cuyahoga to and from Old Portage. In the War of 1812, the growing and prosperous settlement at the Portage was a rendezvous for troops raised in the VvTestern Reserx e. A great future seemed to be assured to it; but the construction of the Ohio Canal put an end to river navigation, and Old Portage was no more. We have looked in vain for traces of the warehouses, the shipyard, the stores, which once were there. All have disappeared. In- stead there are rich fields and fertile farm land. iever was a town more completely lost. Even the Portage Path is no longer kept open, although, by the terms of the Ordinance of 1787, it was to be a com- mon highway, and forever free. The territory which was to become the Western Re- serve is not without tales of daring and heroism, of wonderful adventures and REV. DAVID BACON, 326 THE WESTERN RESERVE. ( romantic escapes. Of these tales, the most remarkable is that which tells of what befell the famous hunter, Samuel Brady, when, about the year 1780, he headed a party from beyond the Ohio and led them into the region of the Cuyahoga to chastise some Indians who had been foraying among the whites. Unexpectedly surrounded and outnumbered, he ordered his men to scatter and make the best of their waythrough an hundredand fiftymiles of wilderness toward their homes. But the savages let his companions go, unpursued, and turned after Brady himself, for they knew that to capture that one man was of more im- portance than to take all of the others. Hemmed in by his pursuers, within a great loop of the river, Brady ran swiftly to where it swirled between narrowed banks, and with one desperate leap sprang across the chasm, a distance of at least twenty feet. Having thus gained on the In- dians, who were so close as to see him make the leap, and who deemed that some Manito had aided him, he hurried to a neigh- boring lake, swam and waded for a little distance, and concealed himself in a great bed of water lilies, beside the prostrate trunk of a tree which had fallen into the water. Tracing him by his blood (for he had been sorely wounded), the In- dians came fiercely after him. They reached the edge of the water. They went round and round the margin of the lake. Finally, upon the very tree beside which he was concealed, some of them gathered, and he heard them eagerly discussing his disappearance, and breathed more freely when he finally learned that they believed he must have been drowned in trying to swim across the lake. The spot where he jumped the river is within the limits of the town of Kent, and is proudly pointed out by the inhabi- tants, while the beautiful little Brady Lake commemorates by its name his final escape. Ten years before the company under General Cleaveland camped at Con- neant and, later in the same year, founded the city of Cleveland, there was a settlement made in the valley of the Cuyahoga, some dozen miles southward from where the future city was to be. This settlement was a Moravian missionary town, of Zeis- berger and Heckewelder, and its name, PilgerruhPilgrims Rest was sadly suggestive of the sorrowful life of those who founded it. For the missionaries and their converts had been driven from Gnadenhutten and Schoenbrum, on the Tuscarawas; they had wandered hither and thither, eagerly longing for an opportunity to DAVID HUDSON. THE WESTERN RESERVE. 327 visit once more the valley which they loved; and one of their temporary abiding places was here at Pilgerruh. Their stay on the Cuyahoga, on a bluff overlooking a pleasant stretch of valley, was bnt brief, for the follow- ing year saw them again on their wan- derings. They had built, at Pilger- ruh, twenty-seven simple homes and a meeting-honse, yet there is now no sign, no relic, to mark where those log strnctures stood; but the village bluff is known, and it is with sorrowful interest that one visits it. Bnt it is with the Fourth of July, of 1796, that what may be termed the modern history of the Reserve begins. There are few finer acts in history than the voluntary relinquishment of western lands to the general govern- ment, by the states claiming owner- ship in them. The broad-minded statesmanship which dictated the ces- sions realized their vital importance to the future peace of the country. Without them there would have been endless quarrels, jealousies and heart- burnings; there would not improb- ably have been civil wars. The plac- ing of those immense tracts of land in the hands of the general government obviated evils of incalculable extent. Connecticut, like her sisters, was very generous, and willingly relin- quished extensive claims; and yet it seemed to her that there would be no great harm in keeping back some small acreage. Her deed of cession, therefore, reserved to herself a tract of some five thousand square miles, in- cluded between the Pennsylvania state line on the east, the forty-first degree of latitude on the south, the international boundary line on the north, and a line on the west just one hundred and twenty miles west of the boundary of Pennsylvania, that is, the portion of northeastern Ohio bor- dering on Lake Erie, west to a point beyond Sandusky, south to a point a little beyond the present Youngstown. The cession was made on the 14th of September, 1786. There was considerable dissatisfac- tion with the reserving of this tract; and Washington said that the accept- ance of the cession, coupled with that condition, was owing to a want of competent knowledge of the Connect- icut claim to Western lands; nor is it surprising that a Virginian, whose state had rival claims, should thus ex- press himself. Others based their opposition to Connecticuts course on the belief that the reservation was made with the sole purpose of at once THE OLD WESTERN RESERVE COLLEGE BUILDINGS AT HUDSON. 328 THE WESTERN RESERVE. opening a land office and selling the lands: and snch objectors could not see why, if one state was to do this, the other claimant states should not do likewise. It was, however, thought by Con- gress that the reservation of snch a small proporti o n ate amount would better be passed over, for it was deemed (and correctly, as the sequel proved) that the strip would be settled with snch a body of sturdy men as would form a barrier against British and Indians alike, and that still wider emigration and settle- THE OLD CHURCH AT AUSTINBUEGH. ment would be stimulated. That the land would promptly be pnt on the market was soon found to be a fact, for in the very month following the cession a considerable portion of it was offered for sale. One tract, of twenty-four thonsand acres, was dis-. posed of,and then the matter was dropped. In 1792, five hundred thonsand acres of the western end of the Re- serve was set apart for Connecticut citizens whose property had been de- stroyed by the British expeditions of Benedict Arnold and others in the Revolutionary War, and this section is still known as the Fire Lands. In 1793 the balance of the Reserve was offered for sale, bnt some unpop- ular provisions in the act which pro- vided for this led to its speedy repeal. Bnt for some years past the shadow of danger had so darkeiied the Lake Erie region that it would have been useless to try to get set- tlers to tnrn their faces thitherward. The Indians had determined to put a stop to white encroachment in Ohio, and had fiercely upheld what they deemed their rights. They not only waylaid and scalped soli- tary trappers and backwoodsmen, bnt in 1790 they administered a stinging defeat to the forces of General Harmar, and in 1791 50 fearfully crushed the army of St. INTERIOR OF THE MORMON TEMPLE AT KIRTLAND. Clair that a thrill of horror ran through the country, while the news so affected Washington himself that he, man of marble calm and iron self- control though he was, gave way to a frantic burst of excitement. But in 1794 there was a change. Beside the Rapids of the Maumee, where that broad and splendid river lilts, shallow rippling, over long stretches of rock-paved floor, Anthony Wayne fought a fierce battle with the Indians, and so overwhelmingly defea ed them that they were glad to make peace; and the time for the settlement of the Reserve had come. In May, 1795, the land was again offered, and in September of that year it was sold. The Connecticut Land Company were the purchasers. Th amount paid was $1,200,000. The company thought that they were pur- chasing some four milllion. of acres, but subsequent surveys showed that there was a little under three millions. Instead, therefore, of pax ing thirty 329 cents an acre, as they thought they were doing, they paid forty. It is curious to know that an Indian trader, Alexander Henry, whose name and much of whose actual ad- ventures appear in The White Is- lander, made a claim, in 1797, that he and some others owned all of the Reserve west of the Cuyahoga, hav- ing had it deeded to them by the Indi- ans. The T were willing to sell to the Connecticut Land Company for a shilling an acre. As, however, deeds from the Indians were not considered of any effect unless given to the gen- eral government, no attention was paid to the claim. The company set promptly about having their land surveyed and set- tled. General Moses Cleaveland, a lawye of Canterbury, an officer of the militia, a man of forceful charact r and highly respected, was selected to b general agent and to manage the stir- veys. In May, 1796, a party number- ing about fifty set out under hi THE WE TERN RE ERVE. KIRTLAND, WITH THE MORMON TEMPLE. 330 THE WESTERN RESERVE. charge. Assembling at Schenectady, they passed np the lVlohawk River in bateanx to Fort Stanwix, whence they followed the Portage to Wood Creek, and then went down that stream, across Oneida Lake, and down the Oswego, and so reached Lake Ontario. They followed the shore line to Niagara, and were at I3nffalo by abont the middle of Jnne. There they were met by a party of Indians, among whom were the great chiefs Joseph l3rant and Red Jacket; and after an amicable conncil the white men proceeded on their way. On the Fonrth of July they entered the Reserve. Some of them pro- ceeded along the shore. The others, in boats, kept abreast of the clay cliffs x ~hich lead to Conneant Creek. And then, at the month of that creek, at a spot which has since disappeared through the straightening of the chan- nel, they all gathered together, and the first Fonrth of July celebration on the Western Reserve was held. May the Port of Independence this was the name by which Conneaut was for a time known,and the fifty sons and danghters who have entered it this day, be successful and prosper- ons ! May these sons and daughters multiply in sixteen years sixteen times fifty! Such are examples of the toasts which on that Independence Day were enthusiastically given. And very soon the settlement of the Reserve began. Towns sprang into existence; farmers and traders estab- lished homes. By i8oo, from twenty to thirty settlements had been begnn, and the district contained a population of 1,300 people. Lines of survey were drawn like a network over the land,. and the era of base lines and sections and parallels and toxvnships had finally come. For a few years there was doubt as to whether Connecticut or the United States possessed jnrisdiction over the Reserve; and this uncertainty checked. for a time, free sales of land. Con- TAPPAN HALL, OBERLIN COLLEGE. THE WESTERN RESERVE. 33 necti ~nt, however, having given a qnit- claim deed for the district, seems to have been desirons of having noth- ing more to do with it in an official way; while the general government, at least so far as the proc- lamations of the territorial governor, its appointee, wenttook it for granted that the reservation of the land did not imply any reservation of polit- ical anthority. As early as 1788, the T eserve, as far west as the Cnyaho a, -as inclnded, with Marietta, in Wash- ington Connty, of the Northwest Ter- rito In 1796, that part of the Re- ~erve which is west o the Cnyahoga was made a part of Wayne Connty, and the spa ~e covered by that large part of the city of Cleveland known as the West Side was therefore in that co intywhose connty seat was De- troit, and whose limits inclnded, also, i\lackinac and Sanlt Ste. Marie and the te of the fntnre Chicago! A ter the final settlement of the qnestion, in favor of the jnrisdiction of the United States, sales and emigration were mnch stitnnlated; for pnrchasers had no longer to dread either a conflict of rival tax gatherers and sheriffs, or the absence of any reonlar administration of law. Of all the towns which sprang into being, none was so cnrions or strange as Tallmadge. The Reverend David Bacon \ ~as its fonnder. He was one of the earliest preachers to enter the region; for it was in 1804 that he reached the Reserve and, passing throngh Cleveland, went on to Hnd- son. In that town he preached for three years. It was while he was there that Owen Brown became a resident; and Owen sometimes took to chnrch with him a little son, a certain John Brown, who was destined to awaken the nation as it had never been awak- ened before. In 1807 Bacon left Hndson and pro -eeded to carry ont a plan which he had long meditated. This was to form a religions village,not a celi- bate commnnity, not a society of Prot- estant monks or nnns, bnt a commn WARNER HALL, OBERLIN. 332 THE WESTERN RESERVE. nity of zealous Christian people. The first condition was that none be al- lowed to purchase land save such as were members of either the Presby- terian or the Congregational church. Bacon was resolved upon securing a moral and religious atmosphere, and the Reserve was large enough to allow plenty of room at other points for all who could not or would not conform to his ideas. For every hundred acres of land the sum of two dollars was to be paid annually for the support of the gospel; and there were other carefully planned provisions for churches and schools. Bacon obtained control of almost an entire township; in the centre of the tract vas a common, from which there radiated eight roads. A brave scheme it was, and a prophetical, to thus lay off roads with the expecta- tion that towns would spring up for them to lead to. A daughter of Bacon was the famous Delia Bacon, and it was in Tallmadge that she was born. She possessed her fathers individuality of thought and energy, but with her it was to literary investigation that these traits led. Her theory regarding Shakespeare brought ridicule and dis- appointment, yet there was something about her which commanded the re- spect of men whose respect was a high honor. Hawthorne, Emerson and Carlyle made themselves of material assistance to her, although all three scouted her strange fancy. I wish you could have heard him laugh, writes Miss Bacon, describing an inter- view with Carlyle. Once or twice I thought he would have taken the roof of the house off. I told him he did not know what was in the plays if he s id that, and no one could know who be- lieved that that booby wrote them. It was then that he began to shriek. You could have heard him a mile. In heart-break and misery did the work of this Tallmadge-born woman end, and it was in disappoihtment and heart-burning that her father gave up his own peculiar struggle. For he met with serious difficulties, and with pecuniary troubles, which compelled him to give up the land, and after a few years of struggling poverty he died. WADE 5 LAW OFFICE AT JEFFERSON. BENJAMIN F. WADE. THE WESTERN RESERVE. 333 Yet his work was not in vain. The influence of his plan and of his principles is still felt. The town is of qniet, qnaint attractiveness, and there is snch an atmos- phere of order and law and morality as is apparent to even a casual observer. The winters through which the early settlers of the Reserve passed were savagely bitter and fierce. They were presaged by wild storms, which, sweep- ing in from the angry waters of Lake Erie, warned the people to make their final preparations for the cold. Gloomy and portentous was the sound of the wind and of the roaring lake- deep calling unto deep; and soon the long, hard winter was upon them, when, to use the terrible fignre of Job, the waters were hid as with a stone. And what a winter was that in which the first white child was born on the Reserve! The father, James Kings- bury, had gone eastward for needed supplies, leaving his wife in the wilder- ness. As he was returning, a fever struck him down, and he was help- lessly delayed, but as soon as he could move he once more set out for home. The weather was fearful. It was bitter cold; snow covered the ground to a great depth, and it fell, without inter- mission, every day for three weeks. To plunge and wade through the drifts was almost an impossibility. It was on the third of December that Kings- bury left Buffalo. It was not until the twenty-fourth that he reached Con- neaut Creek! His horse had died from the frightful exposure, but he himself had plunged forward until he reached home. He found that the child had been born; that its mother was sick with a fever; that the food was almost exhausted. He dragged a hand-sled to the settlement of Erie, MONUMENT TO GIDDINGS AT JEFFERSON. GIDDINGSS 0 FFICE AT JEFFERSON. JOSHUA R. GIDDINGS. 334 THE WESTERN RESERVE. and returned with a load of provisions. Then the cow died, and the child grew weaker and weaker from starvation, for the mothers fever and the death of the cow made it impossible to give the poor little infant food, and at last it died. Kingsbury saw that his wife, too, would surely perish, unless some- thing nourishing could be obtained for her. He was himself scarcely able to move, but, loading an old musket, he feebly made his way into the woods and sat down upon a log. A solitary pigeon perched upon a high branch above him, but his trembling hands could scarcely steady the weapon; still he felt that his wifes very life hung upon the issue. He firedand the bird fell flutteringly downward. He hastened to his cabin, and made a warm and palatable broth; and under its influence his wife revived, spoke to him rationally, and from that day began to recover. But the annals of the Reserve do not give us solemn stories alone. They tell of Glorious Fourths, of balls, of happy gatherings, of queer experi ences. They tell of how, in the out~ skirts of the then little Cleveland, the future Governor Huntington was at- tacked by a pack of wolves, and of how he bravely kept them at bay with hi umbrella until Superior Street and safety were reached. They tell of the early settler who, hearing a commo- tion among his stock one morning~ hurried out with his gun and was just in time to prevent a bear from running off with a prize. He shot and killed it; but it was Sunday morning, and he was forthwith taken before a justice and assessed one dollar fine for shoot- ing on the Sabbath day. In the midst of a high plateau sec- tionbreezy, open and clearwhere the soil, naturally thin, has been pa- tiently worked, and where a fine com- munity has grown up, is the town of Hudson. It was founded by David Hudson, a direct descendant of Hud- son, the great explorer. It was one of the very earliest Reserve towns to be settled, and it is still one of the most attractive. In some of its aspects it reminds one of that most charming of New England towns, Concord. It can show a house built as far back as i8o6. What an ancient date for a building on the Western Reserve! and what a contrast to. buildings and age in the Eastern States, where we have more than once been told, in answer to inquiries regarding buildings at his- torical spots: No, there is no history connected with that particular house; WILLIAM COOPER HOWELLS, THE FATHER OF THE NOVELIST. THE WESTERN RESERVE. 335 Religion, morality and knowledge being necessary to good government and the happiness of mankind, schools and the means of education shall for- ever be encour- aged. Snch was a declaration of the Ordinance of 1787; and the ed- ucational institu- tions that have sprung np in the Reserve have been such as splendidly to carry out the idea. Not con- tent with simple schools, the people soon began to de- mand something more advanced; and Burton Acad- emy, the pioneer academy of the Reserve, was given a charter in 1803. From Bur- ton Academy sprang the West- em Reserve College, which, chartered in 1826, soon became a power in educational, reli- gious and anti-slavery move- ments. At the time of the founding of the college, several Reserve towns competed for its possession; prominent among these were Burton, where the acad- emy had been, Cleveland and Hudson. The amounts that could be offered as a donation fund by the competing towns had of course to be con- sidered; and Hud- son, which se- cured the prize, subscribed over seven thousand dollars. Some dozen years ago a wider field opened before the college, when a wealthy citizen of Cleve- land gave a large amount for its use, on condition that it be removed to that city. The removal vas made, and now, as Western Reserve University, it is continuing its splendid work and constantly broad- it merely stood before the Revolution,thats all. I can imagine a Cleveland man feeling quite awe-stricken by New York antiquity, Mrs. Burton Harrison makes one of her characters remark. A GLIMPSE OF THE CUYAHOGA. WILLIAM 1)EAN HO YELLS. FROM A PHOTO ~RAPH TA ~EN AT JEFFERSON IN 336 THE f ES TEEN RESERVE. ening and strengthening in scope and methods. Its record, from its simple beginning to the present time, is a proud one. As the Western Reserve was New Connecticut, so has the Western Reserve College always been in some sense a New Yale. The older Yale has always had a great attraction for the sons of the Reserve, scores of them being nnmbered among her alumni. How striking a history has been that of another college on the Reserve Oberlinthe first college to intro- duce coeducation, as it was also the first to admit colored students to its halls. It was founded amid the forest; its first building was hidden among the woods. Gradually pupils came to it, and a town arose round about. It was in 1834 that it was chartered, and soon it re- ceived its first important accession of strength. In Lane Seminary the discus- sion of slavery was for- bidden, and numbers who could not remain there under such a ruling came to the clearer atmosphere of the Reserve, and found at Oberlin a congenial college home. For there was never any restriction of free speech there, and not only did the Oberlin The- ology soon become famous, bnt the name of the college also became associated with the most earnest anti- slavery ideas. Lectnrers and teachers on this snbject were encouraged, and the town of Oberlin became one of the most important stations on the Under- THE GARFIELD MONUMENT, LAKEVIEW CEMETERY, CLEVELAND. TUE HOME OF GARFI ~LD AT MENTOR. THE WE TERN RESERVE. 337 ground Railway, helping many slaves to freedom. It is said that of the ~oultit ide of ugitives who sought as- sistance there, not one was ever taken back to slavery. On a guide-post, on ne of the road~ leading to Oberlin, was the figure of a negro running at ill spe~d toward the town. The radi- cal position adopted by the Oberlinites rought upon them much criticism md persecution. ]hreaL were freely made to hum the college buildings. rom time to time, in the state legis- lature, effo~ ts were made to have the college charter annulled. In Septem- ber, 1858, the people of Wellington and Oberlin rescued a slave from his captors, and a number of the best citi- zens were arrested and ~arried to Cleveland for trial. One had been superintendent of an Oberlin Sabbath- ~chool br sixteen year , and four hun- dred of the children went to Cleveland to visit him in jail. It was a time of intense excitement, of mass meetings and ery speeches. It was well into i8~q before the matter was r ally ad- justed, and the last prisoner released, and then there wa~ great r& oicing and a tremendous jubilee. It may be added that, as usual, the negro had his reedom. What a picturesque location is that of the college at Hiram Hiram-on- the-Hill! From he height on which it stands there are wide-spreading stretches of beauty the greens and ~urples and blues of the fields and the woods and the sky. Garfield was for a time president of the academy here, which has since developed into th mllege, and in the little town which clusters around the institution there i~ the building which was his home, and there is also the house in which he was married. The home of his later years. was at Mentor. Garfield wa born on the Reserve; he vas reared under Western Reserve influences; of his splendid career the citizens of the Reserve feel justly proud. Without the advantages of wealth, he succeeded through ability and energy. Whatever he did, he di Nell; a. d when, as a youth, he worked for a time on a canal boat, he did o to nis employers thorough satisfaction. I was talking sonie time ago with an THE PUBLIC SQUARE, CLEVELAND. 338 THE WESTERN RESERVE. old nian who had followed the canal for a lifetime. He was undersized, clumsy of build, ungainly and igno- rant. He could not understand why Garfields connection with the canal had been made so much of by the public. Now, Garfield, he war jest like me! he exclaimed. Garfields work as an educator, his career as an officer, his fame as a statesmanhow much of success was crowded into his fifty years of life! And then his un- timely death,and the solemn day on which his body, followed by a mighty stream of mourners, was borne to its final resting place, the beautiful Lake View Cemetery in Cleveland! In Ashtabula Countythere is a quiet, peaceful, sleepy little town, where mod- em homes mingle with those which are antique, and where there is an atmos- phere as of history and age. The town has a distinctively New ~ England appearance; and it is especially inter- esting to note that it has even a Pyncheon Home,an old dwelling JAMES A. GARFIELD. THE WESTERN RESERVE. 339 house with a store in one corner. In this little town, Austinburgh, was founded the first church of the Western Reserve. Joseph Badger, the home missionary, was its organizer, and the date was October, i8oi. Badger was the first regular preacher on the Re- serve, and his ministrations had begun at this town in i8oo. By October, i8oi, he deemed that the time had ~ome for a formal church organiza- tion; and we are quaintly told, in his journal, that it consisted of ten males and six females. From the journal of this simple, earnest man much curi- ous information is obtainable. His duties called him to other portions of the Reserve, as well as to the vicinity of ustinburgh, and he visited, among other places, the promising village of Newburgh, at that time a settlement with a future before it, but long since incorpo- rated with its then de- spised rival, Cleveland. In Newburgh, in 1802, 50 Badger tells us, there were five families, but no apparent piety. They seemed to glory in their infidelity. He went to Cleveland, on the same trip, and tells of visiting the only two families. Cleveland had not grown as rapidly as its founders had hoped. In 1796 there xvere four peo- ple who could be counted as residents. By 1797 there were fifteen. By 1802 the population had shrunk as Badger re- ports; but the depression was only temporary. One thing on which the people of the Reserve have prided themselves has been their toleration of every kind of religious belief. The Ordinance of 1787 declared that: No person demeaning himself in a peaceable and orderly manner shall ever be molested on account of his mode of worship or religious sentiments; and the residents of Northern Ohio have always been very tolerant in consequence; only their tol- erance resembled somewhat in character that of the Boston captain whom Conan Doyle makes say: My motto is freedom to conscience, dye see, except just for Quakers and pa- pists, andand I wouldnt stand Anne Hutchinsons, and women testifyin. and such like foolishness. Not that the people of the Reserve ever drew thc line at just those points; but they arose in the majesty of their displeasure when the members of the peculiar community of Berlin Heights endeav- ored to live as to them seemed best; and they tried with tar and with feath- hIRAM COLLEGE. 340 THE WESTERN RESERVE. ers to extirpate the doctrines of Mormonism. Among the most interesting towns on the Reserve is Kirt- land, about twenty miles from Cleveland. For there the first Mormon temple was erected, a temple which is still standing, built of rough stone, plastered over, and marked to imitate courses of masonry. There is much of rugged and broken country round about, and there are steep hills, and deep valleys, and streams which twine sinuously lakeward. The Temple, erected sixty years ago, presents a striking appearance; yet this is owing more to its prominent location, over- looking a sweep of broken country, than to its architecture,which is the more strange from the fact that its ap- parent architect, Joseph Smith, dis- claimed the honor and attributed the entire plan of the building, inside and out, to divine power. The ihterior is much more striking and worthy of attention. White is the prevailing color, and its creamy combinations on the walls, the fluted pillars, the gothic windows, the arched ceiling, the square, straight-backed pews, the rows of pulpits, many-initialed, for the religious officers of the church, at one end, and the rows of pulpit-like seats, iriany-initialed, for the lay officers at the other, are very impressive. Joseph Smith, Brigham Young, Sidney Rigdon,here at Kirtland they labored, and here they and their followers strove to establish perma covered them. Besides the light which the Book of Mormon throws upon early American history and an- tiquities, all other investigation and speculation pale! Cities and peoples, wars and battles, are freely described. And the city of Moroni did sink into the depths of the sea, and the inhabi- tants thereof were drowned; and the earth was carried up upon the city of Moronihah, that in the place of the city thereof there became a great moun- tain. Kirtland, however, and the Temple have as yet escaped the destruction which, according to Mormon, over- took so many places in North Amer- ica. Some Mormons actually live at Kirtland now, and continue to worship in the historic building. They are not polygamists; they assert that in the authorized teachings of their church there is nothing by which polygamy can be justified; they are bitterly an- tagonistic to the Mormons of Utah, and find great satisfaction in the result of a suit instituted some years ago for the legal possession of the Temple; for the court decided the people now at Kirtland to be the true and nently their New Jerusalem. Some sacred plates, written by the inspired hand of the prophet Mormon (who it is claimed lived in the United States some fifteen hundred years ago), were the basis of their religion. These had been buried in the earth by Mormons son, and Joseph Smith miraculously dis OLD SHAKER CHURCH AT NORTH UNION. SHAKER HOUSE. THE WESTERN RESERVE. 34 laxvful successors to the original church. Another peculiar sect which found an abiding place on the Reserve were the Shakers. A Shaker village, North Union, existed since early in the cen- tury in the outskirts of Cleveland, and it was only a few years ago that the few remaining inhabitants (for the com- munity had sorely dwindled), betook themselves to another village of their sect, elsewhere, for the companionship of numbers,a sect with a dry and rigid code of life, with asceticism and self-denial as its foundation, yet withal a people who not only live sincerely pure lives and are honest, industrious and sober, but who have love for each other and kindly words and ways. They consider celibacy to lie at the very base of their religion; yet they love the children whom they adopt. I always liked children, I remember an old Shaker telling me, gravely; I should not like to live where there are none about. One of the older mem- bers, when the decision to remove from North Union was made, was feeble, and felt that her time was not long for this world. Take me with you, she entreated. I dont want to be the last one to be left here. When I am dead, let me lie where I shall still be near you ! And they heeded her entreaty, and she was tenderly taken with them; and within a week after reaching her new home she was called to her final rest. Dry and harsh and unlovable as the Shakers too often seem (for part of their creed is to have little to do with the outside world), there is sunny brightness often to be found in their great homes, by those whom they ad- mit to their friendly acquaintance, and there are jests and repartee and merry laughter. A number of the old build- ings at North Union still stand, de- serted and fast going to ruintheir church, some dwelling places (one in particular, an enormous one), a mill, a blacksmiths shop, and a picturesque building in which were huge fireplaces, and a loom for weav- ing silk, and a washing machine, with a great hollowed-out log for a tub. One of the most interesting towns of the Reserve is Jefferson, the home of the famous Giddings and the still more famous Wade,splendid types, both of them, of the independence produced on the Reserve. Of absolute physical as well as intellectual bravery, they were men who won the respect of their opponents at a time when it was the taunt that the North had not the cour- age of the South. The life of Giddings was often threatened. Twice, on the very floor of the House of Representa- tives, he was assaulted, and once, in the streets of Washington, he was attacked by a mob. Once he was censured by the House for introducing some un- popular anti-slavery resolutions; but when he resigned and went back to his constituents, they at once re~lected him, and he returned to Washington to continue his decided course. Wade was a man of immense force of character, high abilities, unswerv- ing determination and striking person- ality. He was honored, admired, loved and feared during his long career as United States senator. His words were blows, fierce, downright and crushing; and he could also make them cut and sting. When a North Carolina member, urging the exten- sion of slavery into the West, pathet- ically spoke of wanting to take with him there the old colored mammv who had cared for him in infancy and childhood and whom he loved as a mother, and when in touching tones he deplored the attitude of the North in attempting to prevent his carrying out such an act of affectionate devotion, Wade touched the heart of the matter by saying coolly that the objection was not to his taking the old nurse there: Tile are afraid yoi~til sell her when yoi~ get her there! Both Wade and Giddings are buried in the Jefferson cemetery, and plain monuments mark their graves. Within the town there still stands a little one-story office which was used by the two when they were actively 342 THE WESTERN RESERVE. united in the law firm of Giddings and Wade. Jefferson is more than the home of statesmen; it is the home of Howellss Cornelia. For it is Pymantoning the town with white houses, with green blinds, behind black ranks of maplesin themoonlight. Ohio feelsa particular interest in Howellss career. It was in this state that he was born; for years, his home was on the West- ern Reserve; a girl of the Reserve is the heroine of his charming story, The Coast of Bohemia. The life of Howells has been a romantic one. As a young man he endured financial hardships, for his father was not always prosperous, and the entire family earnestly helped him. The senior Hoxvells was the editor of a paper at Jefferson, a staunch abolitionist, the friend of Giddings and Wade. At one time Young Howells was in the habit of working until late at night settingtype for his fathers paper and getting up at four oclock the next morning to de- liver the papers to subscribers. He had the strongest literary bent, and labored unweariedlyto prepare himself for an authors career. He wrote po- etry, and by this won his literary spurs. With the proceeds of a life of Lincoln (some $i6o), he set out on a trip to places of which for years he had thought and dreamed. He went from the Reserve to Boston, where he made the acquaintance of Lowell and of Holmes. It is like the story of some young scion of chiv- alry, of old, setting out to visit the court and the army, to meet the rulers and leaders, and to push his fortunes. And good fortune came to him, even as it used to do to young men who are the heroes of romantic novels. He obtained an appointment as consul to- Venice; and in the fulness of time came the splendid and deserved pros- perity which, as a youth at Jefferson, his wildest fancyings could not have pictured. On the Western Reserve he is immensely admired. He is loved for the sincerity and manliness of his character, and the Reserve feels proud that a great xvriter, whom its people can almost number as one of them- selves, has, in this period of literary laxity, produced books which are uni- formly strong and clean and healthful and pure. When Howells was once asked how it was possible for him, coming to New England to live only when he was a mature man, to portray New England country life with the delicacy and accuracy which his novels show, he replied that his boyhood had been passed in a New England villageand it was the essential truth. There are townships on this Western Reserve, said Garfield, which are more thor- oughly New England in character and spirit than most of the towns of the New England of to-day. Cut off as they were from the metropolitan life that had gradually been moulding and changing the spirit of New England, they preserved here in the wilderness the characteristics of New England as it was when they left it at the beginning of the century. This has given to the people of the Western Reserve those strongly marked qualities which have always distinguished them. The ad- dress from which these words are quoted is an address on The North- west Territory and the Western Re- serve, given before the Historical So- ciety of Geauga County, in 1873. The pioneers, says Garfield in this address, were a people who had been trained in the principles and practices of civil order; and these were trans- planted to their new home. In New Connecticut there was but little of that lawlessness which so often character- izes the people of a new country. In many instances, a township organiza- tion was completed and their minister chosen before they left home. Thus they planted the institutions and opin- ions of old Connecticut in their new wilderness homes. . . . These pioneers knew xvell that the three great forces which constitute the strength and glory of a free government are the fam- ily, the school and the church. These three they planted here, and they nour THE WESTERN RESERVE. 343 ished and cherished them with an energy and devotion scarcely equalled in any other quarter of the world. On this height were planted in the wilder- ness the symbols of this trinity of powers; and here, let us hope, may be maintained forever the ancient faith of our fathers in the sanctity of the home, the intelligence of the school, and the faithfulness of the church. There is much of the picturesque on the Reserve. There are attractive roads; there are spots of romantic beauty; there are finely situated homes; there are many little white meeting-houses, like those of New England, and they show prettily across stretches of open farm land, or as the eye catches sight of them through gaps among the trees; there are log cabins, reminding one of the primitive sim- plicity of the past; while once in a while one meets the old-fashioned ox- team. It is interesting, on roads here and there, to come upon buildings xvhich were inns in the old days of stage coaching; it is perhaps still more interesting to follow along the line of the old Ohio Canal, and note the old inns which welcomed passengers and captains from the packets which tied up at their docks. Another kind of stopping place, on another kind of travel-line, are the sta- tions on the Underground Railway. Numbers of these are still pointed out and kept proudly in remembrance. The history of that railway can never be fully written, for many of the brav- est and most remarkable deeds con- nected with it were never made public and never can be. As early as 1815 the Railway was in operation in the Reserve, and fugitives were even then making their way to Lake Erie and Canada. Owen Brown was one of the many xvho were connected with the system, and it is easy to understand how greatly the mind of his son John must have been affected by what in this way he saw and learned. John Brown, when but five years of age, was brought to the Western Re- serve, and it was here that much of his after life was spent. Never was there a man of more absolute determination or more immovable firmness. He was far-sighted, cool and indomitable. He could plan and carry out enter- prises which to men of another type seemed rash and mad. When a wretched slave crept over the Kansas line from Missouri and told him that he, his wife and his children were about to be sold and separated, Brown at once organized a small party and, tak- ing with them not only that family but some other slaves as well, started across country toward Canada. With unflinching bravery he kept on, in spite of threats, pursuit, attacks and opposi- tion. Once when he had captured a few of his pursuers with their horses, the captured men swore and stormed so vehemently that Brown, whose dis- cipline was always strict, grimly and at the point of a pistol made them get down on their knees and pray; and for the five days that he kept them with him he regularly, morning and even- ing, saw to it that those men offered up their devotions. After getting the slaves safely into Canada, he went with a couple of the captured horses to Cleveland, and on a public street there had them publicly offered for sale by an auctioneer, while he himself (knoxvn by the crowd to be the dreaded John Broxvn of Kansas) warned bidders that although his title to the horses was morally perfect, it might be questioned should the matter ever get into the courts. The horses brought a very excellent price, is his own comment on the sale. This occurrence took place on a March day of 1859. At that time, as every one in the crowd well knew, there was a reward of $~,- ooo offered by the governor of Mis- souri for his arrest, and a separate reward of $250 offered by President Buchanan. He quietly referred to these rewards, and added, with caustic pleasantry, that he would himself give two dollars and fifty cents for the safe delivery of James Buchanan into any jail in the free states. One of the most interesting features 344 THE WESTERN RESERVE. of John Browns life is the way in which he impressed the people of New England, strongly imbuing many of the best people with a hearty sympathy with his general plans. Bronson Al- cott, distinctively a man of thonght rather than action, was ready to be one of a party to go South and try to rescne him as he lay in prison after his harpers Ferry attempt. But John Brown did not want to be rescued. He saw, as with the eye of a prophet, that he would not be worth so much living as dead; and it was thus that he expressed himself. On the day of his execution he wrote: I, John Brown, am now quite certain that the crimes of this guilty land will never be purged away but with blood. I had, as I now think vainly, flattered myself that with- out very much bloodshed it might be done. As one stands within the field where he was executed, and looks off at the wide-spreading view, hemmed in in the distance by dark blue mountain lines, a view which made Brown him- self on his way to the scaffold gently remark that it was a beautiful country, and as one lets his gaze rest upon the distant gap marking the site of I-harp- ers Ferry, thoughts arise not only of Brown the heroic leader, but of a young lad on the Western Reserve, curiously observing the Indians, sor- rowing over the loss of a marblethe first which he had ever seen, and which an Indian boy had given him,good- naturedly wrestling and snow-balling, rambling through the woods and find- ing the nests of squirrels and turkeys, with buckskin breeches (to quote his own description of himself, given in a curious autobiographical sketch), sus- pended often with one leather strap over the shoulder, but sometimes with two. His mother died while he was a mere boy, and he says with simple pathos that he continued to pine after his mother for years. What may fitly be termed the capital of the Western Reserve is Cleveland. It has had a steady, prosperous groxvth, and now it is one of the great cities of the country. Its manufacturing in- dustries are immense; the character of its people is high; in schools, in churches, in homes, in libraries, in the encouragement of art, it holds an envi- able place. Nor is it only within the past century that the advantages of Clevelands location have been recog- nized. Benjamin Franklin, in 1754, wrote with enthusiasm of Northern Ohio. He had received such reports of the region that he extolled its soil, its temperature, its climate, its hunting and fishing, its trade with the Indians, its possibilities of future commerce. And he clearly saw where the future centre was to be; he pointed out the very spot where, in after years, the city of Cleveland was to rise. For it was at the mouth of the Cuyahoga (Tioga, as he understood the spelling to be) that a port should be formed, and a town erected, for the trade of the lakes. Franklins prophecy has been fulfilled; and the city which he foresaw is the worthy capital of the historic Western Reserve. MEMORIES OF BLUEMEADOW. IV. VISITS AT MRS. KANES. By Charlotte Lyon. XAJ FIAT butter is this, my VY dear? asked my father at tea one evening, when a round, firm golden pat lay before him, stamped neatly with a sheaf of wheat on the top. Butter was an article in great demand in old times during the hot haying season, and we often spent half a day in driving from one farm- house to another in the vain quest for the important edible. Frequently a pale, soft substance, glistening with crude particles of salt and drops of acid buttermilk, was the best to be had. This sweet, delectable butter was therefore a great prize. Why, replied my mother, I had a little as a great favor from Miss Phyllis; and she had it from Mrs. Kane. Miss Phyllis was the village milliner; but she was the last resort in all domestic difficulties, and more likely to furnish her customers with butter or eggs at a pinch, than to pro- duce the long promised bonnet. The next step to be taken by the family was to form an established con- nection with the Mrs. Kane who had attained to such excellence in butter making. It seemed that she was of the same profession as Miss Phyllis herself, and made bonnets for the rustic neighbors who were scattered on the uneven ranges of Sheldon Mountain. She came, to the village from her own farm, about five miles distant, every few days, to purchase supplies; and when she called on Miss Phyllis to get the latest styles or buy one or two rolls of ribbon, she would bring a little offering with her, a bowl of wild strawberries, a cake of maple sugar, a few sweet apples or early peas, or a big nosegay from her garden. She consented to supply our family with a weekly portion of butter, which she 345 brought herself, coming in an old springless wagon with a buffalo thrown over the seat, and driven by IV[r. Doe, a quaint, spare little old bachelor, who had roomed in her house for years, taking his meals and working with a brother who lived a mile or two away. I remember that on one of Mrs. Kanes first visits to our house she was invited into the parlor to rest and cool herself, and, seeing the piano, she remarked that she was extremely fond of music. My mother, who was then a young woman and a good musician, sat down at the instrument and played and sang for her a long time. Moores Irish MelQdies were then in great vogue, and The Harp which once through Taras Halls, Loves Young Dream, and others were given successively, with some of the I-Ion. Mrs. Nortons ballads. I recol- lect that I, a staring little girl, watch- ing Mrs. Kane as she sat listening, saw with surprise the tears roll down her cheeks with the emotion which the songs had stirred within her. After the music was over and Mrs. Kane had partaken of some light refresh- ment and disposed of her butter, she invited me to accompany her home to spend a fexv days, saying that she had a little girl about my age and that straw- berries were very thick all about their house. While she went to do a little trading, as she said, and to spend ihe inevitable half hour in con- ference with Miss Phyllis, whose shop was the grand centre of fashion and gossip, I was hastily prepared for the excursion. A clean calico frock was put on, rebellious locks of hair were subdued, and a large gingham sun- bonnet with a big cape to screen my bare neck was tied firmly on my head, 346 MEMORIES OF BLUEMEADOW. my bare arms and hands encased in mitts of brown linen with a little pocket for the thumb, and I was charged to keep on both mitts and sun-bonnet when in the sun, an in- junction which I fear was not always obeyed. The brown hands and faces which young lady tennis players reck- lessly incur to-day would not have been tolerated at that time. At last the old horse and wagon reappeared, and I was hoisted in to sit on a cricket between Mrs. Kane and Mr. Doe in a wagon already well stuffed with a molasses jug, a band box, and various bundles and butter boxes. I shall never forget, though sixty years have passed since that drive, how long it seemed. My father loved a good horse and drove at a rattling pace. I had taken many long journeys with him in his light wagon, doing fifty or even sixty miles in a day with the same horse. But Mrs. Kanes horse, I think, went about two miles an hour. The road, which soon after we passed the limits of the village street and crossed Blue River Bridge began to ascend a steep in- cline, followed all the way the wind- ing course of a beautiful brook, and was overhung by very large and fine forest trees. Ferns in great plumy masses grew in the deep dells. The pink laurel and the shad blossom sprang up from the roadside, clumps of wild columbine and daisies and beds of young wintergreens waited to be gathered, as we all alighted to walk up the harder steeps of the way. The brook itself came brawling over great stones and spread itself in frequent glassy little pools, flecked with sun- shine and bordered with the lovely little green plants xvhich spring up in wild, wet places. At last we struck off the main road into a cross road, which ran along the mountain through a sort of hollow which intersected its top, and drew up at an old brown house, where Emily, Mrs. Kanes little girl, shyly awaited us on the door-steps. We met with the silent embarrass- ment to which children always are subject on first acquaintance, and the ice was not broken until after a lunch had been eaten, of pie and cheese and bread and milk, when Mrs. Kane pro- posed that we should go out in the lot. She said we might take a bowl with us to pick some strawberries if we wanted to. Mrs. Kanes house stood near the roadside. A rickety old wooden gate gave access to the little- used front door. A side door led out of the long kitchen to the yard, where the well with its old well-sweep stood, and a garden enclosed xvith a stone wall lay just beyond. Here were fruit trees as well as corn and other vege tables, and delicious peaches ripened in their season. Peaches in plenty, of fine quality, were raised then in New England. Emilys pet lamb came to greet us here and gave me an ~esthetic pleasure. I was familiar with the pet lamb in old-fashioned story-books, and Wordsworths Little Barbara Lewthwaite was as a familiar friend to me; but the pet lamb in real life I had never before encountered. I saw at once that Emily was quite an ideal country girl, and respected her accord- ingly. Followed by the lamb, which went after us like a dog, we went round the mowing lot, across another brook, to a hillside which was literally red with the delicious wild strawberry so infinitely superior in flavor to the culti- vated specimens, abundant to-day, which have taken its place. I kneeled down to pick, and rose up in sad con- dition; the clean frock, the white pantalets so immaculate in the morning, were covered with gory stains, and I felt in disgrace during the remainder of my visit. Emily came forth unscathed. She deftly tucked up her little petticoats and stooped judiciously instead of plumping down on her hands and knees. In front of Mrs. Kanes house rose up a great peak of the mountain with bare boulders of rock crowning the summit. We made delightful ex- peditions to this point, from which I could see the nestling village of Blue- MEMORIES OF BLUEMEADOW. 347 meadow and even recognize my fathers house shining white among the trees. Emily, ~ propos of the scene, confided to me that street folks, as she called them, were very proud and felt above farmers folks. This was my first impression of social distinctions. We lived in a community of mutual respect. I knew that some people had better houses and better clothes than others. But old Dick Lovering, a shiftless, drinking man, who came in patched coat and tattered breeches to weed our garden, was ad- dressed by the family as Mr. Lover- lug and treated with the same cour- tesy as his betters. I assured Emily that street folks were not proud, and tried to change the awkward subject. I felt the same embarrassment when Mrs. Kane apologized for the plain- nessof her house as compared to what I had at home. It seemed all delight- ful to me. Mrs. Kane had a turned- up bed in the keeping room, with homespun checked woolen curtains, and the windows were screened with the same material, drawn aside on strings fastened half across the win- dows. A tall eight-day clock ticked in the corner. Between the windows was a large table, which reminded me of Miss Phylliss shop. On it uprose blocks for pressing and sewing straw bonnets, rolls of ribbon and pieces of silk and crown muslin. Here Mrs. Kane sat, when her kitchen work was done, at her millinery; and from time to time her neighbors came in to get their well saved head-gear repaired. Probably new bonnets were bought in the village; but a new bonnet was an era in the life of a farmers wife then. An annual bleaching and retrimming could be managed by Mrs. Kane at small expense. Opposite the keeping room was the best room of the house. As was then common, a huge chimney filled the middle of the house, and the front door opened into a little square passage with narrow stairs leading to the small landing above. The best room contained a bed, as did all such rooms in farmhouses then. There xvas a great high feather bed reserved for company, a looking-glass with a gilt eagle on top of its frame, tilted forward, supported on two great china-headed nails, one of which bore the picture of a lady and the other that of a gentleman on its surface. These I thought very beautiful. The floor of this room was painted yellow, but no other part of the woodwork of the house, inside or outside, was painted at all. The windows of the best room had sliding shutters, which completely darkened the room when closed. We did not go into this room until my mother came to take me home, when we were seated there in state during her call. Emily and I slept in a minute little bedroom at the end of the kitchen. In the mowing lot under our win- dow, the tall red grasses waved, and bobolinks sang all day long. The roof sloped down low behind, so that the house was two stories high only in front. The chambers, Emily said, had never been finished off. They were lathed but not plastered, and Mrs. Kane hoped pretty soon to be able to have them finished and the house painted. Poor soul, it has never been accomplished to this day! Mr. Doe slept in one of the unfinished rooms upstairs. Mrs. Kanes thrifty hands had papered its walls all over with old newspapers, and the corded bedstead and the little hair trunk which held Mr. Does modest ward- robe were nearly all the furniture it contained. Mr. Doe was a mild, pleasant man, who came and went silently, who did some chores in Mr. Kanes long absences, and was evi- dently the faithful family friend. It appeared on questioning Emily that her father was a carpenter by trade, who did jobs of work where he could get them, over at The Falls or any- where else where there was a barn to be raised or a house repaired. When at last I met him, he proyed to be a hale, fine-looking man, with a rosy, sunburned complexion, very humor- 348 MEMORIES OF BLUEMEADOW. ous and indulgent, while Mrs. Kane, though always polite, was, I found, quite strict with Emily and disap- proved of undue levity. I spent two charming days on my first visit, though my wardrobe suf- fered severely. Strawberry stains and huge rents made in climbing Vir- ginia fences had reduced the pretty French calico to a wreck; and when my mother drove out to take me home on the third day, her first exclama- tion was, My child, what a state you are in! In the corner of the little front entry, resting on the narrow bench across the stairway, in a green flannel bag, was a big bass viol. On my mothers noticing it and asking who played it, Mrs. Kane confessed that she did. So, after tea, which was spread in the keeping room, she was induced after some urging to favor us with a little music. After a little polite coughing and explaining that she had something of a cold, and a good deal of preliminary scraping and tuning of her unwieldy instrument, she sang in a high, thin voice, with the quaver then admired in country choirs, a song in many verses, called Lady Washing- ton, which evidently was her grand effort. It reminded me of Miss Martha Merchants songs, the Battle of the Nile and the Beggar Boy, which were narratives of great length in verse, and were sung with the same quaver. Since then I have never seen the bass viol used as an accompani- ment to a ladys song, played by her- self, until Lady Jane in Patience re- called Mrs. Kanes performance. My next visit to Mrs. Kane was in maple-sugar time, early in the follow- ing spring. On that happy occasion I went for a week, accompanied by my friend and playmate, Eleanor Duval. Eleanor was a daring spirit, with a sweet, coaxing manner, and she ven- tured without hesitation on bold re- quests, which her companions never dared to prefer. Almost on our first arrival, Eleanor espied the bass viol in its corner on the bench in the little front entry, and said, 0, Mrs. Kane, will you please let me play upon it? I felt in my bones that Mrs. Kane s polite and ready assent was forced and insincere; that she suffered tortures while Eleanor, who probably never saw a bass viol before, balanced its broad bottom on her little foot, scraRed and sawed and, clearing her throat, improvised a doggerel song about Emily and me and our adventures with imaginary companions. The ac- companiment to the song was a hor- rible groaning discord, and we laughed at Eleanors wit until our sides ached; but Emily cast frequent uneasy glances at her mother, who with a fixed smile was setting the tea table, trying to seem amused at the sportive mood of Eleanor, while she trembled inwardly for the safety of her cherished instrument, which, by the way, she played in the village choir. During this visit, Eleanor, Emily and I slept together, in the best room, sinking into the billowy depths of the high feather bed. The great open fireplace in this room held a roaring fire of birch and hickory. We used to go to bed by its light after toasting our feet over the ruddy bed of coals, squatting on the braided mat before it in our night- gowns. The half drawn wooden shut- ters revealed an outside world, moon- lit or star-lit, of grim rocky steeps, of wintry solitudes, sighing pines, great leafless oaks; not a house in sight ex- cept Deacon Parrots, which stood half a mile away, looking white and sepulchral after the twinkling light in the kitchen was extinguished. The Kanes were not on cordial terms with old Deacon Parrot and his six maiden daughters, and there was no inter- course except of the stiffest ceremony at accidental meetings. In a little stone walled burial plot opposite Deacon Parrots house, a single white stone stood up like a ghost in the dark- ness. This, Mrs. Kane said, was the grave of Mirandy Parrot. These solitudes never seemed dreary to me. We regarded the forests and MEMORIES OF BLUEMEADOW. 349 dells, the brooksides and straggling farm-houses as scenes of infinite variety and adventure. There were no tramps then; there was no danger to maidens or children in long rambles. We roved for hours on wild mountain ranges at all seasons. During this visit Eleanor, Emily and I went with Mrs. Kane to Mr. Meades farm to spend the afternoon. Before the early tea we blunted our appetites by eating warm sugar waxed on pans of snow. The snow still lingered in hollow places, under the shade of trees and on the edges of wood lots. A milk pan of snow being set before two or three persons and a spoon given to each, they proceeded to pour spoonfuls of warm sugar in streams upon the snow and pull it off in waxy strings, delicious to the taste. The sugar which had been boiling for a day or two in great shallow pans which would hold a barrel full of sap, in a little outhouse with a chimney, called the sugar house, was, after pass- ing from a clear, watery state to a yellow syrup, sugared off, as it was called, in a great brass kettle in the kitchen. It was then moulded into cakes for household use and for the market. Maple sugar was used ex- clusively in most farmers families all the year round. The sugar orchards and their yield were a source of revenue not to be despised. The gathering of the sap every day from the buckets at- tached to the maple trees, and the watching it during the boiling down, were thechief farmwork at thatseason. When satiated with sugar, either waxed or cold in cakes, and ex- hausted with running and climbing, we would return to the house and sit snugly over the fire in the best room, reading The Ladys Companion, of which Mrs. Kane had several bound volumes. She took it, like Miss Phyllis, professionally, for the fashion plates. But Mrs. Kane and Emily were very romantic; they delighted in the storiesand so did we. There was one in many numbers, in which Joan of Arc figured as the heroine, which we liked best. Then there was a tale called Althea Vernon, or the Embroidered Pocket Handkerchief, xvhich I have never forgotten. When literature palled, as well as maple sugar, Eleanor would bring forth the bass viol, and we made, I fear, a shock- ing noise, with laughing and singing. Such is the force of example and the xveakness of human nature, that I too, though sensible of Eleanors presump- tion and Mrs. Kanes anguish of tol- erance, did not scruple to try my hand at this formidable instrument. The greatest pitch of revelry during this visit was the eating of cake in bed, when we, lying in our triple compan- ionship, despatched a plate full which Emily, always hospitable, had brought up from the cellar lest we should be hungry in the night! a contingency never foreseen at home. Emily of course from time to time returned our visits; she was sent to school in Bluemeadow, and took music lessons, and years of frugal sav- ing enabled her parents at last to buy her a piano. By the time she was a pretty, blue-eyed, slender girl of seven- teen, with long fair ringlets, her mother had carpeted the best room, relegated the yellow four-post bed to an upper room, bought a hair-cloth sofa and mahogany card table, and quite transformed the jolly, plain old room where we had had so much childish pleasure. Emily had spent a winter in a city of central New York with a prosperous aunt, had learned to paint flowers, and wrote poetry for the Weekly Gazette published at the Falls, under the nom de plume of Gabrielle. We continued to visit her and to be very fond of her; but our visits grew more brief. We used often of a bright cool afternoon to walk out there and back again, taking them by surprise, but always received with great cor- diality, and finding a delicious country tea table. The ten-mile walk did not weary our strong young limbs, and I remember how beautiful it sometimes was, coming home by the light of a 350 MEMORIES OF BLUEMEADOW. full moon, beside the mountain brook which the road followed. Then too in college vacations youths from Harvard and nearer halls of learning, who spent their time in Bluemeadow, would drive us out to the old farm, two or three girls and young men, each pair in a single sleigh. We would sit and sing college songs by the fire in the parlor after we had taken tea out of Mrs. Kanes log cabin tea set; and she, dear soul, would sit by and enjoy it all, having the tea things to wash up when we were gone. Men who have since taken high honors in their coun- trys service participated in those sim- ple pleasures, and regarded a drive to Mrs. Kanes, with a nice girl, to drink tea and come home by moon- light, as a thing not to be despised. My little sketches -are apt to end sadly. The dark shadows which steal slowly over lifes bright noonday are a part of the true picture, and I cannot omit them if I paint correctly. Emily married long before the rest of us,married at an early age a wid- ower, somewhat older than herself, who kept a country store in Lemon- yule, twenty miles away. The blind- ness which fell upon Mrs. Kane was be- ginning to threaten her even then, but the wedding of her only child was an event which absorbed all her thoughts. She loved to tell of Emilys nice house, of her indulgent husband, of the high place she took in the society of Lem- onville. The next year the great blow fell. Emily gave birth to a son amid great rejoicing, and in one week she and the child were both dead. Poor Mrs. Kanes life was left d~olate in- deed. Emily, for whom she had toiled and sa