; ill* LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. Shelf ....G.4rs3 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. TODHC FOLK'S LIBRARY OF AMERICAN BISTORI. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS By MARA L. PRATT 'I AND ANNA TEMPLE LOVERING. - C/^^^/V^. ly-^c^y^ BOSTON : EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHING COMPANY. 1892. Copyright By educational publishing company. 1892. IIS[a"RODUCT:^IOTv[. To tell all, or even a greater part of the stories of a State so rich in legeudar}^ and historical lore as is Massachusetts, would be to write a gazetteer. Therefore we have chosen such as seem likely to be of most interest to children — and this little book is for children — and have omitted the great mass of facts and statistics that cluster about many important growing cities of the State. It is with pleasure that we make mention of our indebtedness to Mrs. Margaret Preston, for her courtesy in allowing us to in- clude " The First Thanksgiving Day," and " The Boys Redoubt," in our stories of the Commonwealth, and we would also make due acknowledgement for certain illustrations, kindly loaned by the Old Colony Railroad. The Authors. YOUNG FOLKS' LIBRARY OF AMERICAN ^ HISTORY, By MARA L. PRATT. American History Stories. Vol. I. American History Stories. Vol. II. American History Stories. Vol. III. American History Stories. Vol. IV. Columbus and DeSoto. The Great West. Stories of Massachusetts. Stories of New York (In Press). .oards. Clotl .36 •50 •36 •50 .36 •50 •36 •50 •30 •30 •50 •75 CON TP ENTTS. Page Coming of the Northmen 7 Settlement of Massachusetts ........ 13 Settlers at Plymouth 17 Some Leading Men of Ph-mouth Colony . . _. . . . 25 Miles Standish 27 First Proclamation of Miles Standish (Pof»i) .... 35 Indian Troubles in the Early History of Massachusetts ... 39 King Philip's War 43 Massachusetts Bay Colony 46 John Winthrop 49 King's Chapel Burying Ground 55 A Boston Witch Story 59 Religious Persecution in Massachusetts 62 Boston Tea Party 69 Boston Massacre 73 Benjamin Franklin 75 Education in Early Boston 79 Massachusetts Harbor 85 The Boy's Redoubt (Poem) 91 Charlestown 97 Somerville — Burning of the Convent 105 Old Powder-House 110 Historic Chelsea 113 Roxbury Pudding Stone 119 Lexington . 123 3 CONTENTS. Old Concord " . Dunstable Sudbury .... " Witch of Wenliam " Salem .... Nathaniel HaAvthorne Med ford .... Natick .... Old Merry Mount Quincy .... DoAvn on the Cape The First Thanksgivinji- Day (Poem] Provincetown . Stories of Nantucket Among the Life-Savers Gloucester Marblehead Newburyport Birthplace of " Old Put " Ipswich .... Rivers of Massachusetts . A Group of Manufacturing Cities Haverhill Lynn .... Lowell, the City of Magic Worcester, the Heart of the Commonwealth Springfield and the United States Armory Mountains of Massachusetts Hoosac Tunnel Fort Massachusetts Destruction of Deerfleld Decrfteld's Daughter The Great Elm at Pittsfleld The Balanced Rock Lake Onota and its Legend (Poem) Page 138 142 147 153 159 175 177 185 191 194 201 210 213 219 229 233 237- 249 258 265 272 275 278 286 296 302 308 312 315 320 326 331 338 341 345 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS, THE COMING OF THE NORTHMEN, You have all read so much and have been told so much about the discovery of America, of the appearance of its people, of the great, broad, woody country, that I hardly need ask you to remember that when the first explorers came to our Massachusetts' shore they stepped upon a rough, barren, uninhabited shore, and saw stretched out before them only the bare, sloping hills, and the rich, dense forests primeval. Just who these first visitors to the Massachusetts' shore were we can never be really sure ; for in those early days there were no books and no records kept of explorations and discoveries. All we have then to judge from to-day 8 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. is what little may be gathered from tradition, or such relics as happened unwittingly to be left in the trail of these people to mark their presence. As far as we know, it seems probable that the shores of Massachusetts may have been visited even a thousand years ago by the Northmen or Norsemen, a people living in the very northern part of Europe, in the Scandinavian peninsula. These Norsemen were always great sailors and loved nothing so well as to sail a\Yay into the unknown seas, dis- cover new lands, or, if fortune so favored them, to bear down upon lands already in the possession of other people. In the traditions of the Norse Vikings, as these rovers over the sea are called, there is much to be heard about their early ancestors who sailed fiir out to the westward, beyond Iceland, beyond Greenland, to a great uninhabited shore that stretched for miles and miles to the north and to the south. And if you look upon the map and see how short a distance it is straight out to sea from Norway to Iceland, you will not think it at all improbable that having come as far as Iceland in their great proud vessels, they would push on a little farther to Greenland, and then a little farther still to the shores of America. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 9 Our Massachusetts comes in for its part in the possible visit from these Norsemen, although it is all so vague and uncertain. There was at one time a belief that a certain brass breast-plate which was unearthed at Fall River must have belonojed to some one of these Norse Vikino^s. And at another time certain hieroglyphics upon a stone near Dighton were thought also to be those of the Norse people. It is rather doubtful though, for the breast-plate is strangely like those of certain American Indians, as also are the hieroglyphics. In the city of Boston, the capital of Massachusetts, there has been erected recently a statue of a Norse prince. Lief the Lucky, son of Erick the Red, who, according to Norse tradition, sailed to this land far to the west, pushed his way southward until he came to a warm, beautiful shore, sunny and bright, near which grew great vines of rich purple grapes. The story Lief the Lucky tells runs something like this : "We had landed on the sunny shore, and were resting there. One morning one of the crew came out from the forests rolling his eyes, waving his hands, and behaving like one gone mad. " Vines and grapes ! vines and grapes ! " cried he in 10 STORIES or MASSACHUSETTS. his own lano:uaoe of the Germans. " O such loads of vines and grapes ! " That night they slept — so runs the story. " In the morning I bade my sailors load the vessels with a cargo of the rich purple grapes, cut the vines, and fell some trees that we might prepare to return to our country. By-and- by the cold came and the snow and ice. Then came the warm sun again, and we sailed away from Vinland to Greenland, a fair w4nd to carry us all the way." A year or more after, the brother of Lief the Lucky came to Vinland. This party of Northmen the Indians attacked. " We did set up our battle-shields," so the tradi- tion tells us, "and guard ourselves against them. And we did fight with these Skraelings, and did sometimes drive them away. But their arrows killed our Thorwald, and we returned to Greenland." Just where this Vinland may have been no one knows. It may have been in Rhode Island ; it may have been in Massachusetts ; it may have been in Nova Scotia. In the city of Waltham, on the Charles River, there has been erected a very beautiful tower, the " Norumbega " — said to mark the site of the landing of these Northmen. But it is all very uncertain. Still, since Boston, our capital, has honored these Northmen with a statue of their leader Lief, STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 11 we want to know, at least, who they were, and also that certain relics have been found in our state which some anti- quarians still believe are proofs that the Northmen were once here. It makes very little real difference to you and me, except as a matter of historical curiosity, whether they came into our state or not. For they did not come to settle — they were not the sort of people to settle — 1)ut came merely to visit, to discover, to admire, and then to go awav. r '^^^^i^'MMiii NORTHMEN ON A VOYAGE. 12 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. QUEKN KLIZABKTH. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 13 THE SETTLEMENT OF MASSACHUSETTS. It was not till five centuries after the coming of the Norse Vikings that Massachusetts was settled by Euro- peans. At that time, there was in Old England a great religious excitement. People had not then learned that a man's idea of what God might be, and his idea of how he should worship, Avere matters that should not be interfered with. Many people, persecuted first for believing one way, then persecuted for believing another, fled at last to Holland, where they hoped to live in peace, free to believe what seemed to them right, regardless of any established form of church worship. Here in Holland they learned, what they once would would hardly have thought possible ; that God was just as near to them, just as ready to hear them and to protect them in a little, simple, out-door service as in the beautiful, dimly lighted English churches with their grand architec- ture, their rich stained-glass windows and their costly shrines and altars. 14 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. As these people came back from time to time to Eng- land, their influence began to be felt throughout the coun- try. Everywhere the simple church services began to spring up. "The miserable, puritanical hypocrites" said Eliza- beth, who was then Queen of England ; " they shall conform to the English Church." Now when Elizabeth said a thing, she meant it ; and woe unto a people who dared defy her. Troops were stationed in every hamlet suspected of harboring one of these Puritan families ; the leaders were tortured and hanged ; their houses burned ; and their families thrown into prison. Year after year this went on ; the Puritans grew bolder and bolder ; Elizabeth grew angrier and angrier ; to meet one on the roadside, it is said, as she drove along in her grand royal carriage, would throw he'r into a perfect paroxysm of anger. And, indeed, it grew very easy to distinguish one of these people from any other people in the country ; for earnest, sincere, and over-zealous as they were, they had grown to be a little fanatical. They had even come to openly rebuke the elegance of the court and the church, and even avow their deep conviction that anything but the STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 15 simplest clothing, the barest churches, the strictest sobriety in language and conduct was actually sinful and displeasing in the extreme to the Almighty. They themselves wore the plainest, most sober-colored clothing. The men wore their hair closely cropped and their faces smoothly shaven. They spoke little ; seldom laughed ; and discouraged all fun, even for their children, as something foolish and unnecessary, if not out-and-out sinful . But to make a long story short, let me tell you at once that these Puritans were the people who, to escape persecution and to enjoy the privilege of being religious in their own way , fled for protection to the uninhabited coun- try of America. These were the people who, in a single vessel, the Mayflower, crossed the stormy ocean, and, on the twenty-second of December, 1620, sailed into the little harbor of Plymouth, and there began the settlement of Massachusetts. This colony, settled by thes.e early pilgrims to America, was, I want you to distinctly remember, the Plymouth Colony. In a following chapter we shall read of another colony, a little later in its settlement, which was known by an entirely diflerent name. A VISIT FROM THE INDIANS STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 17 THE SETTLERS AT PLYMOUTH. It was a cold, stormy day in December, 1620, that the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth. Their one small vessel, the Mayflower, was an odd looking little craft, and as it rocked and rolled, upon the rough waters in the bay, it seemed a wonder that so frail a vessel should ever have suc- ceeded in safely crossing the great ocean. But there it was, and there were the hundred brave men and women who had come in it to these barren shores of Massachusetts — come to escape the persecution in England of Avhich you have just read. 18 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. They were strange people for their times. They dressed strangely and acted rather strangely, too, so the English thought. Now it was the fashion in those days for gentlemen to wear their hair very long, and to dress in very rich and elegant clothes ; but these people l^elieved in the greatest possil)le simplicity in dress, in customs, in every- thing, in short. They wore the very plainest and cheapest of clothes, shaved their heads (so that they were often nicknamed Roundheads !) would not have any music in their churches, and hardly allowed themselves or their children to laugh and play. As we have said, this little band of Pilgrims, as they liked to call themselves, sailed into t}ie rough, cold, unin- viting harbor on one of those chilly, disagreeable days so familiar to those of us who live here upon. the Atlantic coast. They had intended to make their home much farther south — towards Virginia, where the earlier colonies had been settled, and where the climate is so warm and delightful but it had been a stormy month, and the little "Mayflower'' had ])een driven here and there upon the water, until at last the little band of Pilgrims w^ere glad enough to land at any place . '^ We would have been glad to have landed in a warmer STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 19 PLYMOUTH ROCK. climate," said one of the men, as they looked about over the snowy hills and out upon the icy bay ; " but Providence has directed us hither, and it is for some good purpose." Have you ever visited the quaint little town of 20 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 21 Plymouth? If you have, I suppose you have seen the very rock — Plymouth Rock — on which it is said the Pilgrims landed. It isn't a very large rock, is it? They must have leaped out one by one upon it, I am sure. Certainly no hundred people ever stood together upon it — as some his- torians have said — and sent up their songs and prayers of thanksgiving. But very likely they gathered and knelt close around it, and their good pastor stood upon it and offered up his prayer. It was cold — ])itterly cold, but the Pilgrims were not the sort of people to whine over their misfortunes or to spend time in vain repinings. At once they went to work, felled the trees, cleared the ground, and made for them- selves snug little houses,. into which you may be sure they were glad enough to move their scanty possessions which they had brought over with them in the Mayflower. Can you not hear their axes ringing through the great forests ? Can you not see the great fires that were built at night to keep a^\'ay the wolves, whose bowlings were to be heard on every side as the dark night came on ? Brave, brave people Avere these fore-fathers and fore- mothers of ours ! How they worked and helped and cheered each other on in these first hard days of colonial life ! The men felled the trees and built the rough little 22 STOKIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. a^i: ■, : a ' H -1 fc., ■■' -?"•« STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 23 huts ; and the women washed and ironed, baked and brewed, pounded their own corn for meal and spun their own cloth for clothes, making their rude homes happy and cheerful in the thousand little ways that wives and mothers under- stand. There were not in these first days very many children in the colony, but such as they were, they were brave little boys and girls — as brave in their way as were their fathers and mothers. And there were two little baby boys — born during the voyage across the ocean. Such wee, Avee babies as they were ! And the pets of the whole colony. The name of one was Peregrine White — Peregrine, which means wandering, because he was born while the Pilorims were wanderinoj about seeking for a CD O O home. In Pilgrim Hall, Plymouth, you will find even now the very cradle in which little Peregrine used to lie and kick and laugh — and very likely scream and cry, as all babies in all times ever have done, and, no doubt, ever will. The other little baby was named Oceanic Hopkins, from the ocean on which he was born . These colonists, as you have been told before, were very rigid, simple people. 24 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 25 SOME LEADING MEN OF PLYMOUTH COLONY. The first governor of the Plymouth Colony was John Carver. He was a good, brave, peace-loving man. He lived only a few months after the settlement of the colony, but during that time he proved how wise he was and how true in his dealings with the Indians. One day an Indian came to him and told him that Massasoit, chief of one of the tribes, was preparing war against the white settlement. "We must settle this," said he, mildly, yet firmly, "as with brother and brother." Accordingly he sent for Massasoit, told him as well as he could by means of signs and pictures and the little language that had been learned of each other, why the white men had come, and what they wished to build up for themselves ; he also told them that they would be glad if the Indians would trust them, live side by side with them, and be friends. Massasoit was honorable in his savage way, and felt the kindness and love in the white governor's words and manner. The " pipe of peace" was smoked, and a treaty made between the two chiefs which Massasoit honestly kept his life long. 26 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. After the death of John Carver, William Bradford was made governor. He was brave and daring. When, not long after Carver's death, trouble seemed possible with a tribe of Indians called the Narragansetts, Bradford proved his daring in a way which was long remembered and admired by the colonists. One of the Narragansett chiefs sent to Bradford a snake-skin stuffed full of arrows. This was the Narragan- sett way of saying, "I am your enemy. Beware! for I and my warriors are ready to attack your settlement. Our arrows are prepared for you." But Governor Bradford, not one atom disturbed or frightened, quietly emptied the snake-skin upon the ground, filled it full to the brim with powder and shot, and sent it as his reply to the Narragansett chief. Whether the Narragansett chief thought it wise to keep away from so plucky a governor, we do not know; but one thing is sure, that he gave the colony no further trouble. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 27 JfUAi ^'f'mdaR^ MILES STANDISH'S AUTOGRAPH, SWORD AND DISH. MILES STANDISH. Miles Standish was the soldier of the colony. He had been in many wars in Europe, and now, here in the colony, he was foremost in any trouble. He had brought to America with him a beautiful little wife named Rose. She was a delicate little flower, not at all suited to the rough, bleak climate, and soon faded away and died. I suppose I ought to tell you of some of the marvelous exploits of Miles Standish against the Indians in these earl}^ times. He was a brave, daring man, and you may be sure his name came to be a terror to the Indians round- 28 STOKIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. about. No man was more respected throughout the colony than was this daring soldier ; to no man did the colonists owe more for help and protection. But for all this, I believe the story of him that will pass down in the years to come, is the story of his courtship, which Longfellow has put into such beautiful form. One day John Alden, Miles Standish's nearest friend, sat writing letters for the good captain. The captain, pacing up and down the room, turned suddenly and said : "Friend, when you have finished your work, I have some- thing important to tell you." And then as if half ashamed of himself for breaking in in this unbusiness-like way, he added : " Be not, however, in haste ; I can wait. I shall not be impatient." " Speak," replied Alden, with that respectful tone in which in those days it was more the fashion than now for men to address each other. " Whenever you speak I am ready to listen, — always ready to hear whatever pertains to Miles Standish." C Then the great strong man, the famous captain, the bold, daring, fearless captain, began, like a very school-boy, to stutter and stammer out his message.^ "It is not good for man to be alone ; the Bible says so." And then he walked back and forth. Alden waited, perplexed, possibly amused. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 29 " This I have said before, and I again repeat it : It is not good for man to be alone." John Alden smiled. The great captain was embarrassed, but at last the story was out. There Avas in the little town a beautiful maiden, Priscilla. She was alone in the world. In the long, hard winter her father, her mother and her brother, all had died ; and now with that sad, lonely, weary, pleading face, so gentle, so sorrowful, she passed up and down the streets from the house to the little burial ground ; from the burial ground to her home again. Not a man or woman in the town but pitied her, and the great, strong captain's heart was touched. "Patient, courageous, strong," said he, thinking of the sweet Rose Standish now lying in her grave in that sunny spot so dear to him. "If ever there were angels on earth, as there are angels in heaven, two have I seen and known ; and the angel whose name is Priscilla holds in my desolate heart the place Avhich the other abandoned." "And now," continued the captain, "I am a coward in this, though valiant enough in most things ; wilt thou, John Alden, my friend, go to the maiden Priscilla and say to her that a blunt old captain, one not of words but of deeds, offers his hand and his heart. But I am a maker of war, not of words ; you who were bred a scholar can say it in 30 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. elegant language, such as one reads in books, and which is quick to win the heart of a maiden." This was a stransfe thins^ to ask one's friend to do for him, was it not? But to John Alden it was more than strange. And for this reason : he loved the maiden him- self, and only a moment before, in the very letter he had just been writing home to old England, he had written page on page of this l^eautiful maiden Priscilla, of whom his heart was so full. And here stood his friend, his strong friend whom he loved so, and to Avhoni he owed so much of friendship and loyalty, asking him to go to this Priscilla and plead with her to make his — Miles Standish's — home cheerful and beautiful, when with all his heart he longed to have her in his own. But Standish was his friend, and Alden was honorable. "I will go," answered he, in a husky, heavy voice; but Standish heard not the tone — only the words which he wished to hear reached him. And so John Alden went forth on his bitter errand. He found the maiden in her home, busy at the spinning- wheel. She greeted him with a happy smile, "I knew it was you when I heard your step in the passage," said she, simply, "for I was thinking of you as I sat here singing and spinning." STOEIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 31 Poor John Alden ! I am afraid this gentle greeting made his errand none the less easy. Then they sat and talked of the beautiful springtime, talked of their friends at home, and of the May-Flower that sailed on the morrow. "I have been thinking all day," said Priscilla, the tears coming into her great brown eyes, "of the hedges and the fields in England. They are ail in blossom now and the country is like a great garden. Kind are the people here whom I live with. I love them, but sometimes — I cannot help it, — I am so lonely and wretched, I almost wish myself back in Old England." "Indeed, I do not condemn you," answered Alden, sadly ; and then with a struggle , he burst out — the Captain himself could not have been more blunt — " Stouter hearts than yours have quailed in this terrible winter. So I have come to you now with an off'er of marriage from a good, true man, Miles Standish, our Cap- tain of Plymouth." Priscilla sat mute with amazement and sorrow. This from John Alden, whom she loved and who, she had believed, loved her. Then she said, "If this brave captain is so eager to wed me, why does he not come himself Avith his offer?" John Alden, gathering up his scattered thoughts, or 82 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS _^__ :: - ^^^" / t'}*^. -l^^'i^Sis^r-^^ ^ STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 33 at least, trying to, began to answer. " The Captain was too busy — he had no time — he " — but the more he said, since his heart was not in it, the more entangled he became. At first Priscilla was angry, indignant. Alden only plead the more strongly for his friend ; but the stronger his pleadings, the more his own love shone out in his eyes. Till at last, seeing how matters stood, Priscilla, with a smile, her eyes over-running with laughter, said, "John, why don't you speak for yourself ? " And John did speak for himself, it is supposed, though nobody was there to hear him ; for when the spring opened there was a pretty little wedding in the village church ; and it was John and Priscilla who walked down the aisle together and by-and-by came out together and went away to a home all their very own. Miles Standish, it is said, was angry, and stormed and raved, and made threats with his sword when Alden returned to him and told him of his failure and his success. "John Alden, you have betrayed me! Me! Miles Standish, your friend, you have supplanted, defrauded, betrayed me ! Henceforward let there be nothing between us save war and implacable hatred ! " But Standish was a noble-hearted man and a just man. And when he saw how happy John and Priscilla 34 STOEIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. were, and how brave and handsome they looked as they stood beside each other, he remembered the dear Rose Standish now dead. His kind heart relented, he forgave them, and at the wedding, no greeting was warmer or kinder than that of Miles Standish. '* Grasping the bridegroom's hand he said with emotion, ' Forgive me ! I have been angry and hui't, — too long have I cherished the feeling ; I have been cruel and hard, but now, thank God ! it is ended. Mine is the same hot blood that leaped in the veins of Hugh Standish, Sensitive, swift to resent, bat as swift in atoning for error. Never so much as now was Miles Standish a friend of John Alden.' Thereupon answered the bridegroom : ' Let all be forgotten between us, — All save the dear old friendship, and that shall grow older and dearer ! ' Then the captain advanced, and^ bowing, saluted Priscilla, Gravely, and after the manner of old-fashioned gentry in England, Something of camp and court, of town and of country, com- mingled. Wishing her joy of her wedding, and loudly lauding her husband. Then he said with a smile : ' I should have remembered the adage, — If you would be well- served, you must serve yourself ; and more- over. No man can srather cherries in Kent at the season of Christmas ! ' STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 35 ^ ^hzr^^ THE FIRST PROCLAMATION OF MILES STANDISH, NOVEMBER A. D., 1620. " Ho, Rose ! " quoth the stout Miles Standish, As he stood on the Mayflower's deck, And gazed on the sandy coast line That loomed as a misty speck On the edge of the distant offlng, — ' ' See ! yonder we have in view Bartholomew Gosnold's ' headlands.' 'Twas in sixteen hundred and two '» That the Concord of Dartmouth anchored Just where the beach is broad, And the merry old captain named it (Half swamped by the fish) — Cape Cod. 36 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. '' And so as his mighty ' headlands ' Are scarcely a league away, What say you to landing, sweetheart, And having a washing-day? " For did not the mighty Leader Who guided the chosen band Pause under the peaks of Sinai, And issue his strict command — " (For even the least assoilment Of Egypt the spirit loathes) — Or ever they entered Canaan, The people should wash their clothes? " The land we have left is noisome, And rank with the smirch of sin ; The land that we seek should find us Clean-vestured without and within." " Dear heart " — and the sweet Rose Standish Looked up with a tear in her eye ; She was back in the flag-stoned kitchen Where she watched, in the days gone by, STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 37 Her mother among her maidens, (She should watch them no more, alas! And saw as they stretched the linen To bleach on the Suffolk grass. In a moment her brow was cloudless, As she leaned on the vessel's rail, And thought of the sea-stained garments, Of coif and of farthingale ; And the doublets of fine Welsh flannel. The tuckers and homespun gowns. And the piles of hosen knitted From tlie wool of the Devon downs. So the matrons aboard the Mayflower Made ready with eager hand To drop from the deck their baskets As soon as the prow touched land. And there did the Pilgrim Mothers, "On a Monday," the record says, Ordain for their new-found England The first of her washing-days. And there did the Pilgrim Fathers, With matchlock and axe well slung, Keep guard o'er the smoking kettles That propt on the crotches hung. 38 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. For the trail of the startled savage Was over the marshy grass, And the glint of his eyes kept peering Through cedar and sassafras. And the children were mad with pleasure. As they gathered the twigs in sheaves, And piled on the fire the fagots, And heaped up the autumn leaves. '' Do the thing that is next," saith the proverb, And a nobler shall yet succeed ; — 'Tis the motive exalts the action ; 'Tis the doing and not the deed ; For the earliest act of the heroes Whose fame has a world-wide sway Was — to fashion a crane for a kettle. And order a washing-day ! — Margaret J. Preston. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 39 INDIAN TROUBLES IN THE EARLY HISTORY OF MASSACHUSETTS, For a long time after the first landing of the Pilgrims, they were unmolested by the red men. But one morning in March, down came an Indian into their little town. The Pilgrims were not overjoyed to see this Indian; but they welcomed him politely and waited for him to speak. "Welcome, welcome," said the Indian. Samoset, for that was the name of the Indian visitor, was arrayed strangely enough in feathers and fur and col- ored with bright paints. This was the red man's idea of a visiting costume. He was pleased with the welcome he received from the white men — so much pleased, that on the next day he came again, not waiting for the Pilgrims to return his call, and this time he brought with him five other Indians. Such a pleasant day as their six visitors seemed to have ! They drank and ate everything they saw, seeming to think it perfectly right and proper to take whatever they liked. At sunset the five Indians went away ; but Samoset staid on and on, until, in despair, the white men asked him 40 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 41 if he would go and find Massasoit, the Indian chief, and ask him to come to the colony. Massasoit came. He sat down peaceably in the little hut of John Carver, and together they smoked the pipe of peace, and agreed never to interfere with each other. This treaty was always honestly and faithfully kept as long as Massasoit lived. But late in the history of the colony, and in the early history of Massachusetts, there was more or less trouble with the Indians always at hand. Innocent and trustful as they had been when the first white men came to America, they had long since learned to hate and to fear the white men. They had learned that the white men could not always be trusted ; they had learned they would lie to them, cheat them and destroy their homes, and they had, accordingly, arrived at the conclu- sion that if they would keep their homes and their lands free, they must fight for them. And fight they did in their own terrible way, with arrows and tomahawks, and from behind trees and rocks. Nothing did they enjoy more than to swoop down upon some innocent, unsuspecting fimiily at night and mur- der them all, burn their house and yell and dance and sing as they flourished their bloody tomahawks above the flames. 42 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. O o STOKIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 43 KING PHILIP'S WAR. After the death of Massasoit, the Massachusetts colon- ists did not fare so well with their Indian neighbors. In 1675 King Philip, the Indian chief, made war upon them. "We shall have no lands left to us," said Philip. "Every year more and more of these white men come and build homes in our land, every year we are pushed farther and farther back. Therefore let us join our forces and destroy these settlements one and all." The first attack was made upon the little village of Swansey. As was the custom of these simple villagers, all were assembled at their little church to listen to the long, long sermon which every Sunday it was their preacher's delio^ht to read to them and their delight to listen to. 44 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. As they came slowly out from the little building, into the bright, warm sunlight, thinking, no doubt, how beauti- tiful and quiet it all was, suddenly there rose upon the still air, the much dreaded, much feared Indian war-whoop. They stood still and listened ! Their cheeks paled ; the men grasped their muskets ! The mothers drew the children close about them ! Suddenly out from the trees and rocks rushed the angry red men, brandishing their tomahawks, and yelling with rage and excitement. An awful massacre followed — a sickening, terrible scene ! After this, hardly a day or night but some innocent village, some unprotected household was visited by the wrath of the Indians. For a long time the war raged. It seemed sometimes as if the Indians would indeed succeed in their horrible pur- pose of slaying every man, woman and child in the colony. But at last Philip himself was slain in battle, and thus a deathblow was struck to the horrible war. "Now," said the colonists, " if we can but find Anna- won, King Philip's right hand man, and capture him, we shall be safe again. With their leaders slain these Indians would have no courage to carry on the war." STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 45 Annawon, it was found, had made his camp in a swamp, where as he supposed, he was well concealed and safe from attack. Captain Church, a brave Puritan soldier, was wise enough to find it and came upon Annawon asleep before his tent. Down upon him rushed the white men, and before Annawon even knew the white men had come, he was their prisoner. ■ "Now," said Captain Church, turning to the Indians, "there are hundreds of white men outside the camp who at a signal from me will rush in to destroy you. If, how- ever, you surrender and promise peace for the future, your lives shall be spared." "We surrender," said the Indians. Thus ended King Philip's War, one of the lonoest and most awful of all the Indian wars during the colonial period in any part of the country. It was one fearful succession of massacres upon massacres until there seemed little hope for the colonies. When at last King Philip and Annawon were conquered, you may l)e sure it was a happy day, a day of rejoicing and thanksgiving throughout the Massachusetts homes and in the hearts of the few surviving colonists. 46 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. THE MASSACHUSETTS BAY COLONY. It was on the twenty-ninth of June, nine years after the settlement of the Plymouth Colony, that there came sailing into Massachusetts Bay thence into the harbor at Salem, a fleet of five vessels, one of them the self-same Mayflower that had brought the Pilgrims. For six long weeks these vessels had been crossing the Atlantic ; but it had been a comfortable, prosperous voyage, in warm summer weather, there had been plenty of food, no fear, no dread of possible poverty and suffering. For these people were all "well to do" people, some of them even of the " nobility : " they had not come driven from England by persecution, but rather simply to take up the grant of land given them by the king, with the hope of building for themselves a new city where they could enjoy perfect freedom for themselves, be free from the many restrictions in both church and state. They had cool, calcu- lating business plans also ; for in these nine years it had come to be well understood that there were certain possibili- ties for American trade well worthy the interest of business men. In the quaint language of the times, one of these emi- STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 47 grants wrote of the voyage, " Our passage was both pleas- urable and profitable ; for we received instruction and delight in beholding the wonders of the Lord in the deep waters, and sometimes seeing the sea round us appearing with a terrible countenance, and, as it were, full of high hills and deep valleys ; and sometimes it appeared as a most plain and even meadow." The landing, too, in this beautiful warm month of July was different indeed from that of the Pilgrims, who, midst winter snow and bitter cold, stepped out on an unknown shore, barren, snow-covered, inhospitable. When they came along the coast, the same writer says, "By noon we were within three leagues of Cape Ann ; and, as we sailed along the coast, we saw every hill and dale, and every island, full of gay woods and high trees. The nearer we came to the shore, the more flowers in abun- dance ; sometimes scattered abroad, sometimes joined in sheets nine or ten yards long, which we supposed to be brought from the low meadows by the tide. Now, what with pine woods and green trees by land, and these yellow flowers painting the sea, we were all desirous to see our new paradise of New England, whence we saw such fore- running signals of fertility afar off"." This colony was strong, even rich, compared with 48 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. Plymouth Colony. They founded their colony at Salem, and gave it that name, from the Hebrew word meaning "Peace." Later, they .settled Boston and many of the surround- ins: towns. And now we have two flourishin<>- colonies — both made up of Puritans, both honest, industrious, God- fearing ; both of the Puritan religion, both desirous of free- dom and independence. For a long time these two colonies remained separate, not from any especial lack of friendly feeling, but simply because it had happened that they came under different circumstances. And by-and-l)y they were, as they grew older and stronger, united under the name of Massachusetts. The word, it is said, means Blue Hills, and was taken from the name of an Indian tribe then livino- near the colonists. MASSACHUSETTS CENT OF 1787. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 49 JOHN WINTHROP. JOHN WINTHROP. John Winthrop, one of England's wealthy men, sold his vast acres and came to the little Massachusetts Bay Colony, that he might he free to carry out such religious views as he chose to hold. "I go" said he, "to plant a free church in the wilderness." He was a man of grave, but generous, kindly counten- ance, dignified, gentle in his manners, ready always 50 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 51 with a sympathetic word, and greatly loved by his people. Twelve times was he elected governor of the little colony, and three times deputy-general. He was the founder of Boston. His residence was on Washington street, and the ground now occupied by "The Old South" was then a part of his beautiful, shaded garden. During all these early days of the colony, John Win- throp kept a journal, which has since proved of untold value to Massachusetts history. Governor Winthrop's settlement in Boston grew very rapidly. Many able men from England came to it, so that from the very beginning there was a certain air of refinement and education that by-and-by led to the early foundino* of our s^ood old Harvard Colleofe. There was in the colony a Deputy-Governor Dudley, who, through some misunderstanding with Winthrop, held for a long time a rather active enmity towards him.. He wrote him hard, insulting letters, and did not hesitate to openly denounce him. Certainly, whatever may have been the cause and however just, the conduct of Dudley was hardly dignified or worthy of a man of his age and position. John Winthrop, in nothing more than in this, showed his noble character and true refinement. He would not 52 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. quarrel, he would take no part in it. " I could resign my position as governor," he once said, "but my position as a gentleman I must never resign." At another time, when he had received an insulting letter from Dudley, he returned it, calmly saying to the mes- senger, " I cannot aftbrd to keep so unworthy a reminder of Massachusetts' Deputy-Governor." At another time he said sadly," I am sorry we are so like quarrelsome children." But there came a time when Dudley, ashamed of him- self, said most frankly to Winthrop, "Your overcoming yourself hath overcome me." The two men were friends again. In a written history of the times, there is this simple, sweet story of their " making up " as you children call it. The Governor and Deputy-Governor went down to Concord to view some lands for farms. They offered each other the first choice, l)ut because the Deputy's was first granted, and himself had store of land already, the Governor yielded him the choice. So at the place where the Deputy's land was to begin there were two great stones which they called Two Brothers. They did this in remembrance that they were brothers by their children's marriage and did so brotherly agree. A little creek near those stones was to part their lands," STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 63 THE FIRST HOUSE IN BOSTON. If you have ever seen a picture, Boston children, of the first house which was built in your city in the year 1623, on Avhat is now Beacon street, you were probably slow to imagine that this fine street, with its rows of beautiful residences, could ever have contained such an odd-lookinsf little house. Beacon Hill we consider a beautiful site now ; but it must have been even more lovely then, looking down upon the forests along the Charles, the pretty, sparkling harbor, and the pine-shadowed hills along the Mystic River. In that odd little house there lived one ''lone bachelor," William Blackstone. He was a natural hermit — that is, he loved the solitude of the forest rather than people. He was not over fond of the Puritans ; for he was a staunch up- holder of the EnHish Church and considered the Puritans 54 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. a body of fanatics, who should have been whipped into obedience in the bei^inninof. He had been educated in one of the finest English col- leges, and had begun life as a clergyman ; but hearing so much of the grand old American forests, and for reasons of his own, unknown perhaps in history, he left his home and came here, and built for himself a new house on the sunny slope of Beacon Hill. For seven years he lived there, quite alone, with no one for neighbors but the Indians. At the end of that time, on account of a general illness that broke out in Salem, supposed to be due to impure water, William Black- stone invited the people of that settlement to come to Bos- ton, telling them how pure and clear were the springs of water about Beacon Hill. The invitation was gladly accepted, and settlers from Salem began to build around the three l)eautiful hills. For some reason, no sooner had the people come, than Black- stone left his own settlement and went deeper into the wil- derness. Boston Common was a part of Blackstone's farm, and the crooked Boston streets are said, by people who like to laugh at our pet city, to have been made by the wanderings of William Blackstone's cow. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 55 KING'S CHAPEL BURYING-GROUND. No building in Boston would attract more the atten- tion of an intelligent visitor than the quaint little stone church on Tremont Street. And adjoining the church is the quiet little burial-ground with its odd-looking grave- stones, and its moss-covered tombs. When good Isaac Johnson came over with his beauti- ful wife, Lady Arbella, and bought this sunny, woody hill- side as a site for their new home, he little thought what the end would be. Isaac Johnson was a wealthy English gentleman, the owner of broad estates in England. The Lady Arbella was the beautiful, accomplished daughter of an English earl. But both had joined the great class of new church people and were, therefore, the subject of quite as much ridicule as any of the Puritans from less distinguished families. So, leaving their beautiful home, they came to the "wilderness," as the colony was called, that they might be free from the ridicule and insults that everywhere were their share; they sailed with John Winthrop's party, and came to Salem. Hearing of the beauty of the scenery of Boston, Isaac 56 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 57 Johnson traveled from Salem to find a place for his new home. Standing upon Beacon Hill, he looked down upon the rich forests sloping the shore, and upon the sparkling waters beyond. "This is like the view from Lady Arbella's Eno^lish home!" said he. " I will build our house where she can look out upon the water." Isaac Johnson was very proud of his beautiful wife and thought no place in all America was too good for the Lady Arbella, and began at once felling the trees and making a clearing for their new home. " Now," said he, as he looked with delight upon it, "I will go to Arbella and tell her that Ave are ready to build our home." One bright, beautiful morning he started off through the forest paths and across the fields to Salem. It was a long journey, l)ut he did not mind, for did not every step bring him nearer the dear Arbella who was waiting to hear of her new home ? But all these weeks. Lady Arbella had been very, very ill. Isaac Johnson did not know of it ; and when he reached Salem, only in time to see the dear wife die, his true, noble heai-t was broken. They buried her under the shadow of the oaks and pines, where not long ago the Salem people erected a pretty little stone church in honor of her. 58 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. Her husl)and did not live very many weeks after her death. "Why should I live?" he would say, wearily. And when other colonists came to him wishing to buy the beautiful slope of land which he had l)een so proud to call his, he would say, "No, I could not bear to see another home than mine there. Wait, and when I die, bury me on the spot Avhich was to have been our home." And so it was that his was the first grave in the King's Chapel burial-ground — so it was that Boston's first burial ground should be there upon the slope which now is the very center of business Boston. BELICS BROUGHT OVER IN THE MAYFLOWER. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 59 COTTON MATHER. A BOSTON WITCH STORY. Th« story of " Old Goody Glover," though perhaps no different from many another witch story, will show you how the " witchcraft " craze possessed the people. One day the children of John Goodwin were taken strangely ill. They twisted themseves into all sorts of shapes, they mewed like cats, they barked like dogs, they even — so the story goes — flew through the air like geese. Old Cotton Mather, one of the strangest, most ianati- 60 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. cal men of these times, and one of the ministers of the colony, was called in. " Terrible ! terrible ! " cried the excitable old man. " They are possessed of the devil ! they are possessed of the devil ! " "See," continued he, showing them a little book which he himself had written, " see, they will not read my 'Food for Babes ! ' " But if you could see Cotton Mather's Food for Babes, I think you would not think it any especial proof of any- thina: but wisdom that the children would not read it. To him, however, it was the best of books. " Indeed," said the strange old man, " I need no further proof that my ])ook is approved of heaven, than that these bewitched children fear it and will not read it." So old Cotton Mather, with a deep groan for the mis- fortune that had fallen upon the family, went away to gather other ministers together to come and help him drive away the wicked spirits. "Who has bewitched these children ! who has bewitched these children?" asked the excited people. - Now there was in the town one poor old woman, Goody Glover. The woman was not of his religion, and that, accordinir to Cotton Mather's idea, was enough to make STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 61 her worthy of any suspicion thiit an ignorant or malicious person might put upon her. " And she has used threatening hmguage to me ! " said Dame Goodwin. " It is she ! " exclaimed Mather. And so poor Goody Glover was arrested and thrown into jail. The poor old woman, frightened half out of her senses at the threats and the hard questioning of her i^tersecutors, fell upon her knees, confessed that she had indeed 1)ewitched the children, and l)egged for mercy. But little mercy had her persecutors upon her. "Is the evil one standing by you now?" asked one of her accusers. " No,'- said she, frightened into answering. "No, he is just gone." " Hear that ? " cried Cotton Mather. " Isn't that proof enough ? " And so poor old Goody Glover was condemned to be hanged as a witch. On Boston Common, under the spread- ing branches of the "Old Elm," Goody Glover was hanged. This story, which is but one of so many Boston witch stories, will show you that witchcraft was by no means con- fined to Salem ; but that it would 1)e much more true to speak of it as colonial witchcraft rather than Salem witch- craft. 62 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. RELIGIOUS PERSECUTION IN MASSACHUSETTS. There w;is in England besides the Puritans, another class of "dissenters" called Quakers. It is said that they were given the name of Quakers in this way. One of them was brought before the court in England for trial. The judge condemned him, and the Quaker arose to plead for himself. He Avas a nervous, excitable man ; and, as he rose, his teeth chattered, his head treml)led, indeed he began to quake and shake from head to foot. Thereat the whole court roared with laughter. "Quake, quake, thou Quaker ! " cried an idle loafer among the people. "Quaker, quaker ! " sounded from every side. And so excellent a joke did it seem to the persecutors of these people that ever after they were called " Quakers." But you would suppose that when these Quakers fled to Massachusetts for protection, the Puritans, when they too had suffered from the same persecution, w^ould have received them with a welcome born of sympathy. But not so these Puritans. Freedom was good and necessary for them ; but they were not yet broad enough to see the justice of the same for other people, and were as cruel and unreasonable to the Quakers as ever the English STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 63 Church people had been to them. They whipped them, they stoned them, they cut off their ears, they burned them with hot irons. O, there was no punishment too cruel for a Quaker ! Now the Quakers were strange looking people ; but so were the Puritans, as to that matter. And they had a strange idea of a church service ; but so had the Puritans. Strange that the Puritans could not see this. But they could not or would not ; and the unfortunate Quakers led a hard life of it among the Massachusetts colonists. There was one Quaker, Mary Dyer, who was hanged upon Boston Common for preaching the Quaker doctrine. " A preaching woman ? " cried the Puritans. "And a preaching Quaker woman ! Who ever heard of such a thing ! Away with her ! " Unable to bear the persecution, this woman, a kind, gentle-souled woman, for all her worst enemies could say, went to Rhode Island, where already Roger Williams had founded his colony, which, as he had said, should forever be open to any and all religious sects. All were wel- come. But as tidings reached her from day to day of the increasing persecution of the Quakers in Boston she determined to go to their assistance. Twice she was G4 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. driven from the town and threatened with hanging. But her people needed her, and she was fearless. " My people are suffering, starving, dying in prisons. I must aid them. It is right for me to enter Boston," she said, and a third time she came. She was at once seized, brought before the judge and condemned to be hanged. It was the 29th of October, 1G59. The streets were crowded with people waiting to see the unhappy woman as she was led forth. By her side walked two youths, Quakers, who were to be hanged with her. One of these, ascending the ladder, turned and. said, "Behold, I die for my faith." "Hold your tongue!" shouted some one from the crowd. " Woulds't thou die with a lie in thy mouth? " And the other youth, as the rope was fastened about his neck, cried, "Know all ye, that we die, not for wrong doing, but for conscience' sake ! " So earnest and sincere in their belief were these people. And now, the youths hanging dead before her eyes, Mary Dyer mounted the scafibld. Already she was blindfolded, and the rope was fastened ; when "Hold ! hold ! " and a horseman came galloping across the common, waving above his head a great white paper — the STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 65 Governor's reprieve. Shouts of joy rang forth from those who had longed to save the woman ; hisses of scorn from those who had k)nged to see her hanged. It was the son of Mary Dyer, who, with pleading and with tears, had Avon the reprieve from the Governor. And now, with her brave son, she returned to Rhode Island. "We are rid of her," said the stern old Puritans. But no, a few months only, and again she was seized with the idea that she must go to Boston to aid the suffering Quakers. Nothing could prevent her. Her friends plead with her, luit in vain ; even the son who had loved her so could not prevail upon her to yield her determination to stand among the persecuted people. She had luit entered the city when she was seized upon by the officers and again carried before the judge. "This is stu])bornness, foolhardiness," said the judge. "Once more you are given to choose between leaving the colony and hanging." "I will not leave the colony until my people are free," she answered, with that quiet strength that seems always to sustain pioneers in any cause — fanatics though they may ])e. Again the governor was begged to save her ; but this time he would not. "She has made her own fate," said 6Q STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. he. And at the appointed time she was led forth from the prison to the common ; and there, amid the crowd of angry Puritans, she was hanged, crying with her latest breath, " Behold, I die for my religion's sake ! " There was another woman, not a Quaker, of whom I may speak just here. She was a friend of Mary Dyer's and, like her, suffered and was persecuted for her religion's sake. This woman. Mistress Anne Hutchinson, was the daughter of an English clergyman ; and from childhood had been accustomed to listen to the learned talks of her father and the clerical friends with whom it had always been his pleasure to fill his house. These talks Anne had always enjoyed and there had, therefore, grown up with her an interest in those questions of doctrine that then, as now, were of such attraction to ministers. It is little wonder then, that when Mistress Anne Hutchinson came to America, where all seemed so fine and liberal, that she, Avith all her knowledge, should like to gather around her the women of the town and talk with them . More and more popular those talks grew to be from month to month. People began flocking into Boston from STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 67 the towns around. At last the ministers grew concerned, then alarmed, then angry. "This woman," said they, "is getting the people away from us ! " And very likely she was, if one may judge what the fresh, bright thoughts of this wide-awake woman must have been in comparison with the kind of sermons the ministers used to inflict upon their people in these Puritanical times. Mrs. Hutchinson was brought before the judge to be tried for heresy. The trial was of little account ; for it was settled before the trial began, that she should be con- demned whatever her plea. It was a cruel, unjust trial; and, in the end, Mrs. Hutchinson was banished from the State ; and all because she gathered from week to week her friends about her, and taught them the Word of God as seemed to her. Mrs. Hutchinson went to Rhode Island, many of her friends going wdth her. There they lived in peace and quiet until, some five years after, the brave woman was killed in one of those cruel Indian massacres which in those days were so common. It is said that Mrs. Hutchinson was a quiet, well-bred, earnest w^oman ; less aggressive, less fanatical than Mary Dyer ; gentle, kind, loved by all who knew her well. It seems strange to us, in these days of liberal thought, 68 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. that such a woman could have been so persecuted by an intelligent people, as the Puritans claimed to be. But it was the fashion of the times, both in America and in Europe, to condemn everything that was new, and persecute everybody who advanced a new opinion. Perhaps it is the fashion to do the same to-day? What do you think? FANEDIL HALL. STOKIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 69 THE BOSTON TEA-PARTY. Boston has given tea-parties from the very beginning of its earliest history ; it gives tea-parties now, such dainty, fashionable, pretty little tea-parties. It gave tea-parties in those days of the Revolution — parties just as pretty and dainty, just as fine and fashionable as these of our day. But there was one tea-party, known now the world over as the Boston Tea-Party, that was like no other tea-party, I think, ever known in fashionable or unfashion- able society. Here is the way this party came about. The British, you little readers of American History already know, had put a heavy tax upon tea, and had tried to force the Ameri- can colonists to buy it and to pay the tax upon it. "We will not buy it," the colonists had said. "We will drink catnip and sage — anything, everything, rather than pay the tax you set upon your tea. We will not pay it — we will not buy the tea — it shall not even be landed upon our wharves ! " One evening, just at sunset, when the beautiful har- bor was smiling and blushing beneath the last warm, lingering rays of the bright sun, a vessel came slowly 70 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. in, up through the channel, nearer and nearer the wharf. A swash, a boom, a rattling of great chains, and the vessel is fastened to the pier. British soldiers disembark, the American officers seem helpless before the new forces. The British officers and the sailors saunter up into the city to meet old friends and rest themselves in once more walk- ing upon firm ground, with room enough and to spare. And there was an insolent air about these sailors — at least, so the Boston people thought — an air that said, " Well, we came into your port for all your threats. What have you to say now ? " For several days nothing was done ; the Boston people were quiet. There lay the British vessel at the wharf, armed with British soldiers, the tea unloaded, but seem- ingly only awaiting the convenience of the captain. But one nio^ht there was a o^reat noise at the wharf. A sudden outburst 1 Hark ! the Indian war-whoop ! the Indian war-whoop ! What does it mean ? Is not Boston safe yet from Indian attack ? The cries draw nearer, nearer ! Indians ! Indians ! See them ! See them, yelling, rushing, brandishing their tomahawks ! They rush upon the vessel ; down into the hold they go, yelling and whooping at every step. The sailors, STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 71 terrified, supposing it to be an attack from the horrible American Indians of whom they had heard, stood back aghast. But up come the Indians from the vessel's hold — crowding, pushing, shouting — and see ! they are rolling out the great tea-chests. What can it mean ! See ! see ! Over the vessel's sides they go, splash, splash, splash, into the water below. How the Indians yell ! how they shout ! how the waves roll and sparkle and tumble and leap about the great boat's bow. But see, the Indians are suddenly very quiet ! How orderly they are ! How slowly and thoughtfully they come oflf from the vessel's sides ! Indeed, these are strange Indians ! Indians never grow quiet like that ! Indians never walk like that ! I believe — perhaps — true as you are alive, they are not Indians at all ! No ! they are Boston men — citizens — dressed like Indians. O, now it is plain enough ! This is what the Boston people meant when, with such wise shakes of their heads, they said, "We'll see if there will be any tea landed at our wharves ! we'll see if we can be made to buy the English tea and pay the English tax ! " " This will prove a dear sort of an Indian caper, my boys," said an English officer, as the young men, disguised 72 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. as Indians, went up the street from the wharf. "We are not afraid," replied the young men, and passed on. "These Americans have a will of their own," muttered the officer to himself; " they are England's own sons, and I fear it will be no easy matter to subdue them." Wise had it been for England, happy had it been for the colonists, had England recognized in this Boston Tea-Party the spirit of the people, had heeded the warning, and had made then and there just terms with the colonists who rebelled at nothing that was fair and right from the mother country. But England was stubborn and blind ; the colonists were ex- cited and defiant, and so the trouble grew bigger and bigger until, as you all know, the War of the Revolution began. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 73 THE BOSTON MASSACRE. Foremost in the Revolution was our oood old state of Massachusetts. Into Boston poured the British troops, and round about Boston were the first battles fought. There were the Boston Massacre, the battle of Bunker Hill, the battle of Lexington, the Boston Tea Party and so many other events of the Revolution, — all within our own state, led by our own brave Massachusetts colonists. When the British troops sailed up Boston Harbor, and pitched their tents on Boston Common, and took possession of the Old South for a store house, you may be sure the dark days were close upon our Massachusetts colonists. It was a beautiful Sabbath morning when these British soldiers came marching into the little town of Boston. With banners flying, drums beating, up to the State House they marched, took possession of that, and then spreading themselves over the great, broad, beautiful common, they pitched their tents, showing the heavy-hearted Boston people that the enemy was indeed in their very midst. "Boston," said Gage, the British general, "shall be headquarters for British troops." 74 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS, "We shall see," answered the enraged citizens. As would be natural, frequent quarrels took place between these British soldiers and the citizens of Boston ; but one night, when the soldiers had been unusually over- bearing and the hot-headed youths of the city had borne, as they thought, all that our American colonists could be expected to bear, an " out-and-out " quarrel blazed forth. The bells were rung, the alarm sounded, and out from their houses rushed the Boston people. "Fire, you lobster-backs!" cried the angry young colonists. "You dare not fire, you cowards !" This was more than soldier nature could endure. They did fire. The flash of the muskets lighted the dark streets ; the report rolled across the quiet little town. A great cloud of smoke overspread the scene. Slowly, heavily it lifted, as if dreading to reveal the horrible sight beneath it. There, upon the white snow, lay, dead or wounded, eleven of Boston's bravest lads. Blood was streaming, groans filled the air; the terror-stricken people, knowing now that war had indeed begun, lifted their dying lads sadly enough, knowing that those deep, purple blood stains upon the snow would never be forgotten, never be forgiven. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 75 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. On Milk Street, Boston, nearly opposite the Old South Church, was once the house in which Benjamin Franklin was born. And in the Old Granary Burial- Ground on Tremont street may be seen quite plainly the tomb bearing his name. Benjamin Franklin was then a Massachusetts boy, and although he spent so much of his life in Philadelphia, Massachusetts is by no means willing to give up her claim to this noble son of hers. James Franklin, Benjamin's brother, was a printer; and to him Benjamin was, at an early age, apprenticed. James was jealous of this younger brother who gave so much promise of future greatness, and did little to encourage him — rather everything to discourage him. At quite an early age Benjamin contributed to his brother's paper, but, you may be sure, it was quite without the knowledge of that brother. The way he managed to get his articles was this. At all sorts of odd times, before work in the morning, after work at night, when all the household were deep in sleep, he would do his writing ; then, when early in the morning he went to sweep out his 76 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. BIRTHPLACE OF BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. STOEIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 77 brother's office, he wouki put his articles on the editor's desk among other contributions, with no name signed, or, if any, with some " made up " name. One day, while reading one of these articles through, James said, "I'd like to find the writer of these. They are excellent — excellent — real talent there — thought — lan- guage ! " I fancy the little office lad was glad to get behind his brother, out of" the door, anywhere, to conceal the pleasure he felt in so generous a criticism of his work, as well as to conceal his amusement at the good word of praise which his brother would not for worlds have given him had he known it. No, indeed, all the king's oxen and all the king's iiien could never have drawn out a kind word of encour- agement from this jealous older lirother. "It was a hard life he led me," Benjamin used to say when he had become a man. "But it did me o'ood. It taught me to depend upon myself. Yes, yes, he taught me that a good kick out of doors is worth all the rich uncles in the world." When Benjamin became old enough, he ran away to Philadelphia. Then in time he became a well-known printer, writer, philosopher. 78 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. He was sent by the government to England and to France to make arrangements between the nations. And it is said that by his education, his refinement, his gentle, courtly manners, he did more to prove to the European nations that the colonists were persons of worth than any one else could at that time have done. It was he who dis- covered a way, by means of a silk kite which he sent up during a thunder shower, of bringing down a charge of electricity from the clouds, and to his experiments the world still owes much. What do you suppose he would say if he could see to-day what wonderful uses of elec- tricity have resulted from these early experiments ? STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 79 EDUCATION IN EARLY BOSTON. The Puritans of both colonies were, from the very beginning, wide awake to the importance of education ; and as soon as possible schools were located in the different settlements . Harvard College itself was founded only six years after the founding of Boston. The college building was only one little square, red brick building with low ceilings and small windows ; but at the time, it was considered a very elegant structure. It stands still upon the college grounds, surrounded now by many beautiful brick and stone buildings, which have been added to the college since these early days. But for the history of this little old building, the new, modern-built structures, with their beautiful carvings, their broad stair-cases and great halls and doorways, would seem much more attractive ; but when we remember that this little red building was the first college in America, that it has stood for over two hundred years and has sent into the world so many of our greatest and best men, you will under- stand that, after all, the little red brick building is prized more highly to-day than the far more ccjstly ones around it. 80 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. The founding of this college came about in this wise. Governor Winthrop, of whom you have already read, had, living in England, a very noble, intellectual sister, of whom he was very fond. "If only you were here, my sister Lucy," he would write, "then should I be content, indeed." The sister would have come gladly ; she longed to be with her great, good brother ; but there were no colleges in the new country, and she had a son growing up^ to whom, by and by, she wished to give a college education. "If only there was some place of learning for youths," she wrote, "It would make me go far nimbler to New England, if God should call me to it, than I otherwise should ; and I believe a college would put no small life into the plantation." This appeal from his sister set Governor Winthrop thinking. "My sister Lucy is right," said he, and accord- ingly, in a few months, work on a college-building was commenced. In due time Luc}^ Downing and her sons came to Boston to live with Governor Winthrop, and George, the son, for whose education his mother had been so careful, was one of the earliest graduates from Harvard College. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 81 The Boston Latin School, however, is older even than Harvard Colleoe. "The exact position of the first schoolhouse is not known ; but it is matter of record that just ten years after the first employment of Mr. Pormort the town purchased of Mr. Thomas Scottow his dwelling-house and yard, which at this time (the 31st of March, A. D., 1645) was situated on the very lot upon a part of which the City Hall now stands ; and that in the October following the con- stables of the town were ordered to set off six shillino^s of the rate of Mr. Henry Messenger, the northerly abutter, ^for mending the schoolm' his p^ of the partition fence between their gardens.' On this spot stood the first school- house in Boston of which we have any positive knowledge ; edging westerly upon the burial-ground, and fronting southerly upon the street which obtained its designation, School Lane, from this fact. As time wore on, the old schoolhouse, which had served not only as a place for nurturing the youth of the town but also for the indwelling of the master and his family, fell into decay ; and in order to make room for an enlargement of the neiohborino^ chapel, it was taken down in 1748, and another building was erected on the opposite side of the street. ^Master Lovell ' opposed the removal ; but the town agreed to it in 82 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. a tumultuous meeting (April 18, 1748), by two hundred and five yeas to one hundi'ed and ninety-seven nays. In the afternoon of the same day this epigram was sent to Mr. Lovell : — " ' A fig for your learning ! I tell you the Town, To make the Church larger, must pull the School down.' ' Unluckily spoken,' replied Master Birch, — ' Then Jearning I fear, stops the growth of the Church.' " "In course of time, also, this building yielded to the effects of age and inadequacy, and was renewed about the year 1812," — on the site of the Parker House. "Up to this time the l^uildinij: w^as desiofnated as the Centre Schoolhouse, after which time it was properly called the Latin Schoolhouse. This building gave place to the one on Bedford Street, erected in the years 1843-44." There were, besides these, many primary schools here and there to which little boys and girls could go. And strange stories of teachers and pupils in these schools are told. I wonder what a Boston boy or girl of to-day would think of these early schools. Beating the children was the common method for keeping them in order and for forcing them to study. One little boy, who afterwards became Gen. Oliver, says of one of his teachers ; STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 83 " He gjive me a whipping, but soon after discovered that I was not guilty of the act for which I had been whipped. 'Never mind, Oliver,' he said, 'I will put this to your credit for the next misconduct and it will not be long before the account will stand all right.' " The schools in these early times were taught only by men. Now and then, in "haying time" when the men were busy, the children were passed over into the charge of women teachers, but that was all. And what do you think, little boys and girls ! in these early times, girls were not allowed to attend any school above the primary schools ! " Girls cannot learn," some said. " They do not need to learn ! " said others. "They haven't brains enough to learn ! " said others still. What do you suppose these Puritans would say if they could look into Boston now and see the boys and girls studying together side by side in the common schools, the high schools, the Latin schools,! am afraid they would say the world has turned topsy-turvy since their day. And so it has ; and it is a good thing that it has. In Plymouth, when the question was put before the town as to whether or not girls should be educated, one cf the great men of the toAvn arose with a great deal of puffing and blowing and said, " Educate girls ? No, no, 84 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. no. I am opposed to educating girls. If we teach girls (and his nose turned up in scorn at the idea) they will be teachinij us and I should not like that. " I suppose the worthy man thought he had settled "girls" for all time. But girls then, as now, had a way of pushing ahead until they had, for their very own, all that belonged to them; and the Plymouth girls, in spite of the great man of the town, were voted the opportunity to receive one hour's instruction a day ; and in due time, as all little Plymouth boys and girls know, the schools were all opened to boys and girls alike. And in Boston, too, — just think of it! — when, in 1825, Rev. John Pierpont succeeded in getting one of the High Schools opened for the girls, there was such an ex- citement over it, and so nmch objection to it that the good old man had to hide himself for fear of a mol:) ! Well, w^ell, these were strange times, weren't tliey, children? but you must rememl)er that the one thing al)ove all other things that history f^hould teach us is that the world arows wiser and wiser every year. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 85 MASSACHUSETTS HARBOR. Nothing we are prouder of, nothing has helped more to make our state the important state that it is, than our grand old harbor. Massachusetts herself loves this har- bor and is proud of it, I am sure. Do you not see how lovingly and protectingly she throws her arm around it to shut oiF and break the fury of the great Atlantic storms that sweep towards our shores ? The Pilgrims were glad enough when their little bark crept in around the cape and made its Avay into the cosy little nook now called Plymouth Harbor. Just as glad, too, are the vessels of to-day — the great ocean steamers — to creep up through Massachusetts Bay into the harbor of Boston. There are many points of interest in our little Boston Harbor and many more along the vessel's course out through the Bay ; but as this little book can only give you a hint here and there of what our state has of interest for you, perhaps I cannot do better, since I can tell you but one story, to tell you about that strange block, that pyramid-shaped monument that stands outside our little harbor close in the line of the steamers. 86 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 87 If you ask your captain, very likely he will simply say, in the careless manner one does answer a question that has been asked him day in and day out hundreds and hundreds of times, " O, that's Nix's Mate." " Nix's Mate ! " you will say to yourself, looking at it again; "Nix's Mate!" The captain, had he tried, could hardly have given you a more meaningless answer. Now this black' looking island, upon which is raised this black-looking monument, was once a pretty, green, ocean island, like so many other of the pretty green spots down the harbor. Long ago, when pirates infested our shores, this island had upon it a high gallows upon which it was the custom to hang such pirates as might be caught and leave them there hanging that they might be a warning to all other pirates. Now there was, in these early days of the colony, a ship captain named Nix. One day he was found murdered in his berth. How it happened, when it was done, who did it, no one could find out. Days and days went by, and still no clue. Suspicion began to fall upon Nix's first mate. He seemed the one man who might be benefited by the death of Nix, in that he would, very likely, be promoted to a captainship. The poor mate was accused of the murder, and though 88 STOKIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. he stoutly denied it, he was sentenced to be hanged upon this island. To be hanged was bad enough, innocent or guilty, but to be hanged here upon this island, the island dedicated to the punishment of miserable, thieving pirates, was cruel indeed. " I am innocent ! I swear before heaven I am inno- cent," plead poor Nix's mate. " God himself will bear wit- ness that I am innocent ; for I say, if I am hanged on this island, it shall come about that, to prove my innocence to the whole world, this island shall sink down and out of sight. So shall heaven give proof to you that you have stained your hands with the blood of an innocent man." Nevertheless, the unfortunate mate was hanged, and the story of Nix's murder was passing out of people's mind ; when one day, in passing the island, an old sea-captain said, " This island is sinking ; for years and years I have passed in and out of this harbor and I know that at this tide, the pirate island used to be larger, broader. See those rocks, that little point ! I tell you, shipmates, they are under water where once they used at this tide be high up, hardly dashed over by the surf even." Then the sailors began to watch. Month in and month out the passing seamen would eye the island sharply, saying to themselves," Indeed, the ocean bed is sinking here." STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 89 By-and-by an old sailor chanced to recall the pro- phecy of Nix's Mate so long before. Like wildfire, the story of Nix's Mate's prophecy went from ship to ship, from town to town throughout the colony. And supersti- tious as these simple people were, they looked with awe and reverence henceforth upon the gradually sinking island. " Sure enough, these were God's own proofs of the mate's innocence ; God's own answer to the mate's prayer that his innocence might be proved." The more the sailors looked at it, the more the island seemed to sink — weighed down, it seemed, by its weight of woe, its heavy disgrace. The time came at last when the island could be seen only at low tide. Then it became a point of dano^er in the harbor, and some sort of a siofnal must be built upon it to warn approaching vessels. So it came about that this pyramid, now black and water-worn, was placed there to stand forever a monument of the innocence of Nix's Mate and the unjust condemnation of the ship's crew. 90 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. THE BUGLE CALL. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 91 GEORGE WASHINGTON. THE BOYS' REDOUBT. OCTOBER, A. D., 1775. In continental Buff-and-Blue, With lappets richh^ laced, Beneath the shade the elm-trees made, A martial figure paced. 92 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. Along the sluggish Charles's banks He bent at length his way, Just as the gun, at set of sun, Went booming o'er the Bay. His soul was racked with doubt and strife, Despondence gloomed his eye ; He needs must bear his weight of care Out to the open sky. The breeze that flapped his soldier's cloak, The woods so broad and dim. The tides whose sway no bonds could stay, All seemed so free to him ! Yet the young nation that had wrung, Beyond the angry seas. From savage grace, a refuge-place, To pray as they might please, — Must it be hounded from its haunts ? Be fettered at the stake ? Be forced again to wear the chain It risked its all to break ? His step grew heavier with the thought, His lips less firm were set : It could not be that such as he Must yield ! — and yet — and yet — STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 93 How could they ever hope to win A single light in lack Of everything, while England's king Had Europe at his back ? Thus musing sad beside the Charles, He saw the Cambridge boys, An eager band, pile up the sand With roar of riot noise. '' Ha ! lads, what do you here? " he said, Arrested by their shouts, " What do ive here? Why, give us cheer; We're building a redoubt ! *' Who knows how soon Lord Howe may come, And all his lion cubs. With growls and snarls, straight up the Charles, In his old British tubs ? *' And creeping from them in the dark. As quiet as a mouse. Now what if they should snatch awa}", Right out of ' Vassar House,' ' ' Our new-made chief ; before a man Has leave to fire a gun ? That ends it ! For there'll be no war Without a Washington ! 94 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. " Our fathers' hands are filled with work ; Besides, they're grieving still For Warren and the gallant band That fell at Bunker Hill. " So we will help them as we can ; You wear the Buff-and-Blue ; Yet we aver, we're ready, sir, To fight as well as you. " Maybe you're on the General's staff ; Then say we Cambridge bo3^s Will yell and shout from our redoubt With such a savage noise, " That all the vessels in the Bay Will hear the wild uproar. And swear again that Prescott's men Are lining all the shore ! " " Brave lads ! " the soldier said, and raised The cap that hid his brow ; " Some day, some day I'll surely pay The debt I owe you now ! *' Your high, heroic mettled hearts. Your faith that wavers not. To me are more than cannon's store, Or tons of shell or shot. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. ** What people ever fails to gain The patriot's dearest prize, When ' die or vnn ' is blazing in The very children's eyes ? " No need to bear the General word Of tasks so rich in cheer : He makes his due salute to you, — You see the General here ! " — Margaret J. Preston. 95 WASHINGTON ELM. 96 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. BUNKER HILL MONUMENT. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 97 CHARLESTOWN. Paved streets, horse cars, crowded brick l)locks of stores and dwellings — that is Charlestown. Close to Boston — foro^ettino- almost that it is not Boston — rushino:, driving, manufacturing, exporting — that is Charlestown, the Charlestown of to-day. Noisy, tiresome, like any other wide-awake, thriving New England city. But there was a Charlestown — this same Charlestown — years ago, full of interest and beauty. Let us pause here upon the bridge leading into the city and look upon it. See, there is Copp's Hill, from which some old records tell us Clinton and Burgoyne stood watching the battle of Bunker Plill. And there is Christ's Church, from which Gage himself watched the battle. That was a sad day l)oth to our little American army and to the proud British army. The war had really l)egun. Now there was no escape. Blood had ])een shed. War was inevitable. Great was the excitement when the news of the battle at Lexington and Concord had spread through the colonies. Meetings were called, armies were formed, everywhere men and women looked grave and anxious — all knew that long days of sadness and trouble were ahead for them. 98 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. An army of fifteen thousand had been formed ; troops were coming every day from England, and every prepara- tion for war was ^roino- on. It was now near the middle of June. A detachment of soldiers had been sent to Charlestown to fortify Bunker Hill. Quietly, under cover of the darkness, they threw up the earth, forming ditches and forts, until, when morning dawned, there lay stretched along the side of the hill a long line of earthworks. "Look!" cried General Howe. "What is that the Americans have done ? Earthworks ! Preparation for encamping on that hill ! " "Turn the cannon upon them!" ordered the general. The cannon was turned upon them, but no harm could l)e done the earthworks so far away and so high up the hill- side . "A¥e must march up the hill ourselves," said the Ked- Coats. And soon a detachment of three thousand British began the march against the colonists. O, this was a sad, sad day for Boston ! Here was a genuine, regular battle — army against army. Engerly, anxiously did the Americans watch from behind their embankments. Slowly up the hill the troops advanced, firing at every STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 99 step. "Boys," cried General Prescott, "you know we have no powder to waste ; don't fire until you can see the whites of their eyes." "Not very much alive," thought the English, as they received no shot in return for their own. But we know how very, very much alive were the l)rave Americans within the fort. Other plans had they of which the British were soon to learn. And now the Red-Coats were nearly upon the earth- works. Their great plumes nodded and waved — close within the sight of the Americans. " Ready now," said Prescott, in a low tone of command. " Fire ! " Bang ! bang 1 snap ! whir ! bang ! bang ! The Americans were alive now — alive and wide-awake. The British soldiers fell like grain before the scythe. On pressed the ranks over the dead and the wounded, on, on, to the earthworks. Again out-blazed the muskets from within the fort. Again fell great lines of British soldiers. For a time hope rose high — hope that the British were driven back, hope that the battle was ended. But again the British rallied. One mighty rush onward over the heaped up dead, over the intrenchments, into the very fortress — and the British had won the day. This was the first re£:ular battle of the Revolution. 100 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. DEFENCE OF BREED'S HILL. General Prescott in the Redoubt. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 101 It was a defeat, a sad defeat for the American arnay ; still, in many ways it had all the glory of a success. It had been a dearly won victory to the British ; it had taught the British that America was not to be subdued by simple threats; it had taught the colonists courage, zeal, faith in their own powers ; had their powder not given out in the third assault, they knew the victory would have been theirs. And so, though the British counted it a victory, there was no feeling of discouragement among the colonists. But no shadow of this sad battle now lies upon the hill. All this was long, long ago, and to-day the quiet, peaceful, grass-covered hill speaks only of peace and pros- perity. The tall shaft that looks out calmly and bravely over the city and out over the great harbor is the only reminder of what has been. The day of the laying of the corner-stone of this great monument was, I suppose, the greatest day in Charles- town history, — excepting, of course, the day of the battle. On this day, again the streets of Boston and of Charlestown were thronged with people ; again upon the house-tops the people gathered. Bat this time all was so different, — no fear and dread to-day, — all joy and happy anticipation. The American army is not crouching in terror behind 102 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. the breast-works, awaiting what may prove a deadly battle. Just see them on this day ! There they come across the bridge, bands playing, flags flying, the soldiers strong and erect, beautiful in their rich uniforms and gay plumes. DANIEL WEBSTER. In the procession are LaFayette, the French friend of our army, — and Webster, who is to deliver the oration. How the people cheer and shout and wave I Cheers for LaFayette ! Cheers for Webster ! But a hush falls STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 103 upon the crowd. Here in the procession is a little group of men, — old men, old and bent. Can it be — yes, it is true, — these are the soldiers of Bunker Hill, — all that are left. Now hear the cheers ! How they ring out till the very skies reverberate with the sound. Veterans of the battle of Bunker Hill ! Veterans of the battle of Bunker Hill ! Such a day as this was for Charlestown, June 17, 1825, a day never to be lost in our American history. Webster'^ oration ! how familiar it is ! Can you not almost imagine you hear him as, with majestic presence, he stands before the assembled people, and speaks those great and memorable words, which shall never die : — " Let the sacred obligations which have devolved on this generation, and on us, sink deep into our hearts. Those who established our liberty and our government are daily dropping from among us. The great trust now descends to new hands We can win no laurels in a war for independence. Earlier and worthier hands have gathered them all. . . . But there remains to us a great duty of defence and preservation ; and there is opened to us, also, a noble pursuit, to which the spirit of the times strongly invites us. Our proper business is improvement. In a day of peace, let us advance the arts of peace and the works of peace. Let us develop the resources of our land, call forth its powers, build up its institutions, promote all its great interests and see whether we also, in our day and generation, may not perform something to be remembered. . . , . Let our object be, ouk country, our whole country and NOTHING BUT OUR COUNTRY. And, by the blessing of God, may that country itself become a vast and splendid monument, not of oppression and terror, but of Wisdom, of Peace, and of Liberty, upon which the world may gaze with admiration forever." 104 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 105 SOMERVILLE. BURNING OF THE CONVENT. Somerville, one of Boston's largest suburban cities, though wide-awake to business, flourishing in trade, hirge in numbers of intelligent, enterprising citizens, and noted for its excellent schools, is not — even its proudest resident would not say it — an especially picturesque city, nor a city of romantic or legendary wealth. Only one spot, I believe, do the Somerville people point out to the stranger as a point of storied interest. And even that, as it looks now, invaded as it is by gravel diggers and ledge blasters, presents anything but a romantic appearance. Upon this hill there stood, long ago, the Benedictine Convent. It was a stately building, so the people say who remember it, standing, as it must have done, clear and sharp against the eastern sky. Within this convent, under the direction of a wise and good Sister Superior, dwelt a happy little l)and of nuns ; and to these nuns, year after year, came young maidens from far and near to study under the guidance of these teachers. For a long time the convent grew in good repute 106 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. throughout the country. The teachers were wise and kind and good ; the pupils happy and contented. But one day there came to one of the teachers, — a beautiful, pale faced nun, — an evil spirit — so the people said . Such strange things as she said, and her eyes, filled with a strange, new light, flashed Are — real fire, so her excited pupils afterward said. Poor, innocent little nun ! If only they had known and could have given her the care she needed ! But they did not know, and at high noon she rushed from the con- vent, down into the village, crying, «' Save me, save me! They are murdering me ! they are murdering me ! " It required very little in those early days of our his- tory to excite the populace ; very, very little, and by night- time the town of Somerville was in a frenzy of excitement. " A nun has escaped ! A nun has escaped ! " they whispered each to each. " And such terrible stories as she tells — of cruelty and starvation, of imprisonment, of murder, even ! " "Poor little nun, poor little nun ! " they said, shaking their heads mysteriously. " She herself had been starved, had been cruelly whipped. She had been imprisoned. She was stolen from her home and imprisoned in this convent by a cruel brother who wanted her property — by a wicked STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 107 father, who was angry that she would not marry her cousin and thus preserve the family estate — by a revengeful lover who had said in a tragic voice : ' If you will not marry me you shall die a living death. You shall be the wife of none other ! ' " And so the stories accumulated. And the poor, inno- cent little nun, suffering as she was from delirium and fever, was made the much-abused heroine of wicked plots and crimes, at which, could she but have known, the gentle little lady would have smiled sadly and sweetly, and have said, as was her habit: "Nay, nay, dear friends; quiet, quiet — that is best for us all." By-and-by the mob was aroused. "Down with the convent ! down with the convent ! " they cried. And one night, a dark, 1)lack night, they rushed, a great mob of excited men and boys, up the great hill to the convent doors. " Fire the convent ! Fire the convent ! Death to the inmates ! Death to the inmates ! Drag out the Sister Superior ! Burn her alive, hang her ! Death to her ! Death to the Sister Su])erior ! " they yelled. Bravely and quietly the Sister Superior gathered her teachers and her frightened pupils a))out her. "Be brave," she said, "be quiet. Follow me ; do not be afraid." And so she led her little band out from the convent down the 108 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. hill, through the deep shadows, out at last into the village, to the sheltering homes of the people. How the mol) yelled and howled ! How they thun- dered at the great doors of the convent ! Hear the crashing of the great windows ! Hear their clubs and axes against the great oaken doors ! Down they fall across the great halls, and in rushes the infuriated mob. On, on they rush from room to room, from hall to hall, stealing, rol)bing, destroying as they go. And now "Burn the Convent ! Burn the Convent ! " is the cry of the excited mob ; and some great flames leap out, great clouds of black smoke ; the sky for miles about is red as with a sunset glow. People from the towns about rush out into the streets to wonder what it means. There on the high hill, looking down upon the beautiful Mystic River, out upon the great, quiet harbor, l)lazecl and burned the noble old l)uilding, the Benedictine Convent. The morning sun rose upon no sadder sight than the great staring ruins, the blackened, broken walls of the convent. For years the ruins stood there looking down upon the town, sad, as ruins always are, l)eautiful, almost grand, as in the night the moon shone through the great, open windows and down u])on the roofless structure. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 109 As the years passed, it grew more and more beautiful in its neglect; for shrubs and trees grew up about it, vines and ivies crept over its walls, and people passing would say, "It is like an old English ruin." But by-and-by the hill upon which it stood passed into other hands. The spirit of progress seized upon it. *' With its blocks of stone we will pave our streets," said the progressive, energetic, practical city fathers; and little by little the ruins faded away, little by little even the hill itself faded away ; and to-day, the stranger, gazing upon a great wall of gravel and listening to the whir of the busy engines, would have, I fear, to stretch his imagination far, very far, to realize that once this hill was beautiful, and that so romantic a history hovers about it. 110 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. THE OLD POWDER-HOUSE. Within the limits of Somerville, and upon an eminence formerly called Quarry Hill, stands the Old Powder-House, a conspicuous object for miles around. This powder- house prides itself upon being the only ancient ruin in Massachusetts, though just how old it is we do not know. However, John Mallet, its first owner, built it before 1720, never thinking that long after he was gone it would be used to store powder in. Indeed, his only intention was to erect a wind mill, where he could grind corn for the neighboring farmers and anyone else who chose to come that far ; and I haven't a doubt but that many and many a good grist of meal was carried away from it to be made into johnny-cake for the Yankee lads and lassies. After John Mallet died, his two sons carried on the business very prosperously; but in 1747 the old miller's grandson, Isaac, sold the mill to the province of Massachu- setts for "£250 in bills of public credit of the old tenor." These bills were a certain form of paper money issued by the colonial government and called " the old tenor," to distin- guish them from other issues made at difterent periods, and STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. Ill known respectively as " the new tenor " and " the middle tenor." The old wind-mill was now remodeled, though probably not many changes were needed, as it was originally built of stone from the neighboring quarries, and was quite large enough to hold a goodly store of ammunition. At that time, or afterwards, the space within was divided into three stories, separated by heavy floors supported by large oaken joists. So you may see how substantial the work was, and how well calculated to resist the wear and tear of nearly two centuries. After the old mill was changed into a magazine for storing the powder for the province and the towns, it was used for that purpose by the American forces during the siege of Boston, and by the State of Massachusetts till 1822, a few years after the magazine at Cambridgeport was completed. Now, if John Mallet's mill had never been used for anything but grinding corn, we should probably have heard little about it ; but because of the new use it was put to, it was indirectly the cause of the first armed gathering of the men of Middlesex County. For just at the beginning of the Revolution, when the colonists began to look forward to the coming conflict and prepare for it, they decided to withdraw, little by little. 112 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. the powder belonging to the towns and hide it away from the prying eyes of the Tories. But General Gage learned what was going on and resolved to get possession of all that was left. So one morning at sunrise, Lieutenant-Colonel Maddison, with two hundred and sixty men, embarked from Long Wharf and rowed swiftly across the harbor to a convenient landing- place. Leaving the boats, one detachment marched to Cambridge and took possession of two cannon, while the rest of the men proceeded to the Old Powder-House and carried away the two hundred and fifty half l)arrels of powder which were still stored there. You can imagine how angry the people were ! So ano^ry, that large numbers of them armed and gathered too^ether on Cambridge common, and the only wonder is that they did not start out to fight the Ked-Coats that very day. Later on they took part in the struggle manfully, and probably used some of that very ammunition they had so wisely removed from the mill. After the Revolution, the Old Powder-House was aofain used as a mas^azine until 1836, when the State disposed of it to private parties, Avhose heirs still retain possession of this revolutionary landmark. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 113 HISTORIC CHELSEA. Cities lying close about a metropolis — seeming almost a part of that metropolis, cannot, although larger and vastly more important, inspire in the mere traveler the interest that is awakened by many a little simple country village. Such cities are not beautiful — they cannot be. They are too busy. The streets must l)e paved ; l^uildings must be crowded close together ; CA^ery inch of land must be utilized — at least, so the business world declares. But Chelsea comes very close to proving an exception. "Dead as Chelsea," is a phrase that sometime or other has fastened itself upon this city. But wdiere the consistency lies one may Avonder indeed. For a busier, more bustling, more thoroughly alive city is not to l)e found about Boston. Chelsea has, moreover, a really beautiful section. Powder Horn Hill, so named from ha vino; been bought from the Indians for a horn of pow^der, is a l)eautiful elevation overlooking the city and the bay. On the hill stands the Soldiers' Home, the flag over which can be seen far out from the harbor. And there are historical spots as well. Not far from the depot, near Chelsea Creek, stands the Newgate House. 114 STOEIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. In 1774 the British troops around Boston commenced foraging for supplies. All the coast from Quincy to Lynn was their object. In May, 1775, just five weeks after the battle of Lexington, the British perceived that the patriots were removing supplies from Noddle's Island and Hog Island to the mainland . To cut off their return the sloop Diana was ordered up Chelsea Creek. At the Newgate House a sharp conflict took place, the house itself receiv- ing from the sloop several bullet shots. Putnam was here from Cambridge, and Stark and Dear])orn and General War- ren, and from eight hundred to one thousand patriots, with two cannons and plenty of ammunition. The Americans repelled the attack, and the Diana was driven off. The patriots succeeded in getting five hundred sheep to this place, some on the Powder Horn Hill side of the creek and some on the Newgate side, whence they were all driven in- land out of the reach of the British. This was, then, so the Chelsea people will proudly claim, the second l^attle of the American Kevolution. This policy of the Bostonians made food and fuel very scarce for the British. In less than ten months, aided by the /(uns of Washington at Dorchester Heights, it compelled the ijritish admiral to pack his troops into his heavy ships, sa good-bye to Boston, and sail for Halifax. The Newgate STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 115 house, it is believed, stands to-day, as it was first erected, in 1680, perhaps in 1650 — a hirge wooden buikling with an immense chinnie3% and a roof sloping in the rear almost to the ground. Then this is the hill which was once the property of Sir Henry Yane. It was in 1635 that Sir Henry came to Boston. He was a young man then — only about twenty-three years old. He was a broadly educated man for his times, had traveled, was of noble family, and was well schooled in politics and statesmanship. Only a few months after his arrival, he was made gov- ernor, and so wisely and so well did he administer aftairs that his name stands in history side by side with that of John Winthrop, who was, you remember, the first governor of this Massachusetts colony. Vane's brave stand in regard to the religious persecu- tion of the Quakers was one of the noblest memories we have of him ; but the colonists at that time did not quite recognize the nobility, I fear; and when l)ecause of this he failed to receive his election as governor, he returned to England. In England he became an active leader against the rising power of Cromwell. He was in everything an 116 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. apostle of liberty, and like most such apostles in these times, he was, by-and-by, accused of treason, was tried, condemned and executed. On the summit of the hill which was owned by Sir Henry Vane, in what is now Chelsea, stands the great Revere Reservoir. From the western slope of this hill, we get a tine view of a beautiful valley with a little hill beyond. In this valley is a plentiful supply of cedar trees, over the roots of which a little stream tilled with cold springs makes its way. This is the Mount Washington spring water. There lies one of the most beautifiil spots around Boston. Up and down in it, Indian stone implements have repeatedly been found. This was one of the abodes of the red men whenever, at certain seasons, they made their way to the salt water. The little hill used to be called Sagamore Hill, a name not unfrequently met with. A little further on towards Boston a sharp curve in the road brings us to another old mansion standing near by. This is the historical farmhouse of Sir Henry Vane. A few rods to the east is another cold, l)ubbling spring — the white men, as well as the Indians, in their abodes, appreciating the benefits of a bountiful sup})ly of good water. When, in 1G88, Dr. Increase Mather wished STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 117 to get away from Andros's tyranny in Boston, and Andros thought he had the exits sufficiently guarded to prevent his leaving, Mather came by night through Charlestown, reached this house, was conducted from it by boat to a vessel, the President, which, lying outside for him, took him to England. The grounds of the United States Hospital were once the estate of Gen. Bellingham, whose name is still prominent among the Chelsea names. In his will, Bel- lingham left the whole estate to be devoted to religious purposes. But the Avill was contested by the town ; and after a contest of one hundred and fourteen years the town won the case. The very schools of Chelsea have historical names — some of them being named from the four great farms into which the Bellingham estate w^as divided : the Carey, the Shurtleff, the Agassiz, and the Williams. Powder Horn Hill and the lands near by, in the Revo- lution, formed the site of the left wing of Washington's army during the siege of Boston. The marshes to the east prevented the British from landing there. Washington, while he was estal^lished at Cambridge, honored Chelsea with a visit, and was entertained at the foot of Sagamore Hill (now Mount Washington). 118 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. The Diana, after the conflict at the Newgate house, proceeded to a place near the ferry, where she became entangled. There she fired some shot, which went over Powder Horn Hill. The masts of this vessel, and some of the shot came, in the course of time, into the possession of Isaac Pratt, who died a few years ago, an old and well- known Chelsea resident. So, you see, Chelsea, after all, has quite as many points of interest as has Charlestown ; and Old Powder Horn Hill, even if the British did not see fit to make it a scene of actual battle, may well hold its head as proudly as its sister hill in its sister town, above which towers the great monument of Bunker Hill. With smoking axle, hot with speed, with steeds of fire and steam, Wide- waked To-day leaves Yesterday behind him like a dream. Still, from the hurryiug train of Life, fly backward far and fast The milestones of the fathers, the landmarks of the past. — J. G. Whittier. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 119 ROXBURY PUDDING STONE. There is, in and about Roxbuiy, so all Roxbury chil- dren could tell you, a strange sort of stone, clay-like in its appearance, and that clay stuffed full of little round stones like pebl)les. It looks so much like a petrified pudding, brimful of petrified plums, that it has been given the name of Roxbury Pudding Stone. Somebody away back in colonial days made up a story about it which I would tell 3^ou, were it not that Oliver Wendell Holmes has put it into rhyme so much more perfectly than any one else could put it into prose, that it will be far better to let him tell it to you in his own words. THE DORCHESTER GIANT. There was a giant in time of old, A mighty one was he ; He had a wife, but she was a scold. So he kept her shut in his mammoth fold ; And he had children three. It happened to be an election day, And the giants Avere choosing a king ; The people were not democrats then, 120 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. They did not talk of the rights of men, And all that sort of thing. Then the giant took his children three And fastened them ni the pen ; The children roared ; quoth the giant, " Be still ! " And Dorchester Heights and Milton Hill Rolled back the sound again. Then he brought them a pudding stuffed with plums, As big as the State House dome ; Quoth he, " There's something for you to eat ; So stop your mouths with your 'lection treat, And wait till your dad comes home." So the giant pulled him a chestnut stout, And whittled the boughs away ; The boys and their mother set up a shout ; Said he, " You're in and you can't get out, Bellow as loud as you may." Off he went, and he growled a tune As he strolled the fields along ; 'Tis said a buffalo fainted away. And fell as cold as a lump of clay. When he heard the giant's song. But whether the story's true or not. It's not for me to show ; There's many a thing that's twice as queer, STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 121 In somebody's lectures that we hear, And those are true, you know. What are those lone ones doing now, The wife and the children sad ? O ! they are in a terrible rout, Screaming, and throwing their pudding about, Acting as they were mad. They flung it over to Roxbury hills. They flung it over the plain, And all over Milton and Dorchester, too Great lumps of pudding the giants threw ! They tumbled as thick as rain. Giant and mammoth have passed away, For ages have floated by ; The suet is hard as a marrow-bone. And every plum is turned to a stone, But there the puddings lie. And if, some pleasant afternoon. You'll ask me out to ride. The whole of the story I will tell, And you shall see where the puddings fell. And pay for the treat beside. i»i STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 123 LEXINGTON. Lexington ! The first of American battlefields ! I suppose no little Massachusetts ])oy or girl but has heard of the battle of Lexington ; still I will venture to speak once more of it. Indeed, it would be strange to pass this village hy, this beautiful Lexington, without a tribute to its beauty and its history. Standing upon the village green, one could almost imagine himself back in the old Revolutionary days. Indeed, they do say — people who know, — that this vil- lage has changed only a very little in all the century that has followed. There stand the old, old taverns, there the old house, with the very bullet holes w hich on that sad day were made by the British soldiers, there the very blacksmith shop, if one may judge from its color and ancient look. It is a wondrously peaceful village — as peaceful as dear old Concord — and not one trace or shadow of the sad, dark day of so long ago. But let us read again the story of that day. It Avas in the spring of 1775, that General Gage, the British officer, began suspecting that in or about Lexington 124 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. the Americans were storing away military supplies of gun- powder, muskets, bullets. Eumors, too, were heard of " minute men" who were drilling in and about Boston. Minute-men they called them- selves, because they pledged themselves to be ready at a minute's notice to hurry into the field when called for battle. It was some time before Gen. Gage could be sure where the stores were secreted ; l)ut at last some Tories — the Tories, you rememl^er, were colonists not in favor of rebel- ling against the king — discovered the place and reported to Gage. The minute-men, in some way, suspected that Gage had been told, and that he was preparing for an attack upon the place. They, too, were accordingly on the watch. On the evening of April 18, 1775, the patriots, who were on the watch from the church towers over-looking the water, saw a movement among the British soldiers. '^They are preparing to set forth," said the sentinels. Now, over upon the other side of the water, waiting for a signal from the tower of the Old North Church in Boston, stood Paul Revere, ready at a signal to ride out through the Middlesex villages and farms, to warn the minute-men to be up and to arm. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 125 If the British set forth by land, there was to be hung out from the Old North Church tower one lantern — if, by water, two were to flash forth. And in the poem of Paul Revere by our good Long- fellow, you know the story is told in the following beauti- ful Avords : — PAUL REVERE'S RIDE. Listen, my children, and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere. On the eighteenth of April in 'Seventy-five ; Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and year. He said to his friend, " If the British march By land or sea from the town to-night. Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch Of the North Church tower as a signal light, — One if by land, and two if by sea, And I on the opposite shore will be, Ready to ride and spread the alarm Through every Middlesex village and farm, For the country-folk to be up and to arm." Then he said " good night ! " and with muffled oar Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore. Just as the moon rose over the bay. Where swinghig wide at her moorings lay 126 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. The Somerset, British-man-of-war ; A phantom ship, with each mast and spar Across the moon like a prison bar, And a huge black hulk that was magnified By its own reflection in the tide. Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street, Wanders and watches with eager ears. Till in the silence around him he hears The muster of m.en at the barrack door. The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, And the measured tread of the grenadiers Marching down to their boats on the shore. Then he climbed to the tower of the Church, Up the w^ooden stairs with stealthy tread, To the belfry chamber overhead. And startled the pigeons from their perch. On the sombre rafters, that round him made Masses and moving shapes of shade, — Up the light ladder, slender and tall, To the highest window in the wall. Where he paused to listen and look down A moment on the roofs of the town, And the moonlight flowing over all Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. Now he patted his horse's side, STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 127 Now gazed at the landscape far and near, Then, impetuous, stamped the earth. And turned and tightened his saddle girth : But mostly he watched with eager search The belfry-tower of the Old North Church, As it rose above the graves on the hill, Lonely and spectral and sombre and still. And lo ! as he looks, on the belfry's height A glimmer and then a gleam of light ! He springs, to the saddle, the bridle he turns, But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight A second lamp in the belfry burns . A hurry of hoofs in a village street, A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark. And beneath from the pebbles, in passing, a spark Struck out by a steed that flies fearless and fleet : That was all ! And yet through the gloom and the light, The fate of a nation was riding that night ; It was twelve by the village clock When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. He heard the crowing of the cock. And the barking of the farmer's dog. And felt the damp of the river fog That rises after the sun goes down. 128 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. It was one by the village clock, When he rode into Lexington. He saw the gilded weathercock Swim in the moonlight as he passed, And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, Gaze at him with a spectral glare, As if they already stood aghast At the bloody work they would look upon. It was two by the village clock, When he came to the bridge in Concord town. He heard the bleating of the flock, And the twitter of birds among the trees. And felt the breath of the morning breeze Blowino: over the meadows brown. So through the night rode Paul Revere ; And so through the night went his cry of alarm To every Middlesex village and farm, — A cry of defiance and not of fear, A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door. And a word that shall echo for evermore ! For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, Through all our history, to the last. In the hour of darkness and peril and need The people will waken and listen to hear The hurrying hoof- beats of that steed. And the midnight message of Paul Revere. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 129 At Lexington, the advancing British army was met by a brave little band of farmers, ready to fight and to die for their homes and their families. " Disperse, ye rebels," cried the leaders of the British troops. But the brave farmer-soldiers stood firm. " Curses upon the obstinacy of these colonists," mut- tered an officer; "they should be taught a lesson," said he, discharo^ino- a musket into their ranks. Instantly the fire was returned by the farmers. And now out blazed a volley from the British troops. The war of the Revolution had besfun. Eisrht brave farmer- soldiers lay dead upon the ground. This was the first bloodshed of the Revolution. There upon the grass of the beautiful green lay the dead ])odies of eight brave minute-men — the first martyrs in the cause of American li])erty. From Lexington, the British troops passed on to Con- cord — to the place where the stores of military supplies were hidden. The troops had little trouble in finding these supplies — indeed, so directly to the store-houses did they march, that it was said they must have been guided by some American — some Tory — who knew far better than the 130 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. British soldiers could have known, the secrets of the American army. In a few short minutes the stores were dragged forth, the flour which had been hidden there for future need rolled into the river, the cannon spiked, the gun carriages set on fire, the guns and powder distributed among the British soldiers, to be added to their own store. But the Concord minute-men were not idle all this time. On the bridge — old Concord bridge ! — the minute- men had mustered to resist the British troops. " The cowards ! " cried a British officer as he saw them there. "Fire!" ordered he. Two Americans fell beneath the charge. One second, and out blazed the American guns. The British, surprised, frightened, fell back. The Ameri- cans followed close with another charge. The British turned and fled. "They run, they run!" screamed the colonists ; and on they followed, shouting and firing, the Red-Coats dropping beneath the fire, at every step. Pell- mell, helter-skelter, all order lost, they turned and ran, yes, ran — back towards Lexington. On followed the patriots. From every house, every barn, from behind every tree and bush, cracked the muskets of the Americans. Along the road, here, there, everywhere, fell the British beneath the tire. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 131 On fled the British into Lexington. There they met Lord Percy, sent out from Boston with fresh troops. But he came too kite. And so, forming a hollow square around the defeated men, who, panting with fatigue and thirst, dropped almost lifeless upon the ground, their tongues hanging out like dogs, he stood there protecting them until they had recovered breath and were able to march on again. Thus Percy led the British ti'oops back to Boston, and the Americans were left victors in this the first battle of the Ee volution, which took place in Concord and Lexing- ton April 19, 1775. By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood, And fired the shot heard round the world. The foe long since in silence slept ; Alike tlie conqueror silent sleeps ; And Time the ruined bridge has swept, Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. R. W. Emerson. 132 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. HOME OF EMERSON, (OullCOrd). STOKIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 133 OLD CONCORD. Not only has Concord this grand okl historic impor- tance in our State, Imt it is full of memories of the noblest and l)est, the purest and sweetest of our American authors — Emerson, Thoreau, Hawthorne, the Alcotts. Such a beautiful, restful i)hice as it is in the summer time I And so many places of interest ! One knows not where to ])egin, nor where to end, in telling you of this dear old town. The name — Concord — was given the settlement in its beginning, from the very happy manner in which the pur- chase of the land was carried on with the Indian owners, and from the peaceful relations then and always between the Indians and the white settlers. In the old church which stood upon, or quite near the site of the present Unitarian church, — which glories, by the way, in being built from the timbers of the old church, — in this old church was held the first provincial congress ; in it, too, was John Hancock chosen president. The Old Hill Burying Ground — one of the oldest in the country — has many old, Aveather-beaten stones, bear- ing dates as early as 1677. In this burial-ground is the 134 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. grave of Major John Buttrick, who led the fight at the Old North Bridge. But of more interest still is the " Sleepy Hollow" burial ground. Here, marked by a simple white stone bearing the one word Hawthorne, lies the author, Avho with all his other writing and studying and thinking, found time to write so much that was so beautiful for you children — the "Wonder Book," "Grandfather's Chair," and so many dear little stories, like "The Snow Image " — all in the purest, sweetest language, fall of life and interest. Read them, children ; they will do you good. Near by the grave of Hawthorne is the grave of Thoreau, the man who loved the flowers, the sky, the birds, the water, the trees, as never man loved nature before or since ; who saw in each such wondrous beauty* such worlds of story, such lessons, so grand, so loving, so tender and true ! Then, not far away, is the grave of Emerson, the gentle, wise philosopher, and by his side the grave of the little son, on whose death the father wrote the beautiful poem " Threnody." Then, there are in the town so many houses of historic or literary interest. There is the old " Wright Tavern, " at which, on the STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 135 march from Lexington to Concord, Mjijor Pitcairn stopped and rested, saying, as he stirred his brandy, "Ah, my good KALPH WALDO EMERSON. men ; we'll stir before night-fall the rebel blood." But this boasting remark, you will remember, was made early in the day, before he had dreamed that he should be 136 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. pursued, runnini>-, i){inting like a dog, from Concord to Lexington and from Lexington to Charlestown. There is the beautiful old home of Emerson, with its grove of pine trees and tall chestnut trees, which con- ceal the front and side of the house from the street. The Old Manse, Hawthorne's home, is a grand old house, approached by a l)eautiful, long avenue of great trees. Here Hawthorne dreamed his beautiful dreams and wrote his beautiful stories. "The Wayside," the later home of Hawthorne, a little out from the village, has a beautiful hedge of low- branching trees. Behind the house a low, sloping ridge of land glories in its historical fame as a ridge from which the patriotic farmer soldiers poured down their lire upon the retreating Britishers. But on this ridge, more beautiful still, I cannot but think, is a beautiful little path through a tangle of trees and underbrush, up and down which Hawthorne used to walk and think out the pages of his wonderful books. On Lake Walden stood the little hut in which Thorenu spent so many happy years ! Beautiful Lake Walden ! Read, some time, children, the delicate, gentle, beautiful lines that Thoreau has written of this perfect lake. Then the Alcott home — "The Orchard House" — STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 137 138 STOKIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. where your pet author, girls, spent so much of her life, stands a little beyond the Wayside. This is an old house, not so large and roomy, nor so suggestive of old, old times as those of Hawthorne and Emerson, but one which to you just now would be fuller of interest than all the rest. Yes, here it was the little Louisa Alcott grew good and wise and kind and loving, so that by-and-by she could write the beautiful books — "Little Men " and " Little Women " — that you all so love to read. But we must come away from this fascinating little town. We might read on and on all day, or, if you were there, you might ride about for days and then not see half the places of interest or hear half the beautiful stories of its history, its houses, its people. Just one glance at the quiet, deep, dark river — the Concord River — and we must — we must leave thi^ beautiful place. Thoreau wrote of this river ; Hawthorne lo^^ed to touch upon its beauties, its quiet, its peacefulness, in his lines. Hear what one writer has to say of a day spent upon this river : — " It might have been our day on the river that Hawthorne wrote about. For us, too, 'the winding course of the stream continually shut out the scene behind us and revealed as calm and lovely a one before. We STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. •139 uo STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. #* 'hW'I # Ik^ ^ ^^V t'/-' '''1' / y''7''X'v *; -^)^: \'.vV»^.-\M ii^ A '»,;,% , %'^:', b. ^^^^. ^m '^^K ^^iS^ =;;. ^;^ -=5i-~^^^^B %1 W: ^.yM b % ^ ^'^^ffi k ^ H I5. ~ ^ t ll ss. ~~=^^^= »H I^B f' ^^ i r HENRY DAVID THOKEAU. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 141 glided from depth to depth, and breathed new seclusion at every turn. The sky kingfisher flew from the withered branch close at hand to another at a distance, uttering a shrill cry of anger and alarm. Ducks that had been float- ing there since the preceding eve were startled at our approach, and skimmed along the grassy river, breaking its dark surface with a bright streak. The turtle, sunning itself upon a rock or at the root of a tree, slid suddenly into the water with a plunge.' But we saw one congrega- tion of seven turtles on a fallen tree out in the river, and they went on sunning themselves and never minded us at all, but disappeared in a flash, or rather in seven flashes, when a boat-load of boys paddled up to them with a whoop of delight. "Like Hawthorne, we too found in July the prophesy of autumn. A few tall maples were the color of the purple beech, a rare color for maples to take on, and fallen crimson leaves flecked the water here and there, and the golden rods were marshalled in stately ranks just ready to unfold their superb yellow plumes ; and with all the peace and beauty came, too, the 'half-acknowledged melancholy,' the feeling 'that Time has now given us all his flowers, and that the next work of his never idle fingers must be to steal them one by one away.' " 142 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. DUNSTABLE. Away up close to the New Hampshire line, only a few miles from old Concord, lies the quiet, white little village of Dunstable. Such a pretty little village, so still, so peaceful, so happy and prosperous ! This little town was settled by Capt. Brattle, who obtained for himself a grant of land of some sixteen hun- dred acres, the land upon which now is built the village of Dunstable. For several years this tract of land w^as known only as "Brattle Farm," but in 1673, so many families had gathered within its limits that, at petition of its people, the General Court made it an incorporated town. The land was carefully surveyed by Jonathan Dan- forth, the great surveyor of that colonial time, of w^hom the colonists were proud to say ' ' He rode the circuit, chained great towns and farms, To good behavior ; and by well-marked stations, He fixed their bounds for many generations." These early colonists, perhaps you already know, were very fond of rhyme, though they knew very little of poetry. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 143 Perhaps you would like to hear his description of his survey — the written document — which then, as now, it was the surveyor's duty to submit to the town authorities : "It lieth upon both sides of the Merrimac River on the Nashua River. It is bounded on the south by Chelms- ford, by Groton line, by country land. The westerly line runs due north until you come to Souhegan River to a hill called Drain Cut Hill, to a great pine near to said river at ye north-west corner of Charlestown school-farm ; bounded by Souhegan River on the north ; and on the east side Merrimac it begins at a great stone which is supposed to be the north-east corner of Mr. Brenton's farm, and from thence it runs south-south-east six miles to a pine tree marked F. standing within sight of Beaver Brook." There is much more in the report of the good sur- veyor, who we can not doubt did his work well and reported the same carefully and faithfully ; but this little fragment will be quite enough to show you the quaint wording of the times. This tract of land includes what is now Dunstable, Tyngsboro', Dracut, Groton, Pepperell, Townsend in Massachusetts, besides what is now Nashua, Hollis, Hudson, and parts of six other towns all in New Hamp- shire. 144 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. The settlements of the present pretty little village sprang up along the shores of Salmon Brook. This little town had its share of trouble with the Indians ; and there are records upon records showing that the early settlers were brave and daring, standing In'avely by their homes as long as any hope of life remained. At one time they were driven into their garrison where for days they lay in terror of attack. At another time, unable to resist the force of the Indians in the uprising of Philip in 1675, the little band of settlers left their homes and sought protection in the neighboring towns. Even in this, one heroic man, braving all danger, stood firmly at his post during the whole war, and was afterward given the honor of being called the first real settler of Dunstable. The house in which this brave man, Jonathan Tyng, dwelt was situated on the Merrimac, just opposite the Wicasnick Island. The house was long known as the haunted house, and even now the old cellar, grown over with weeds and bushes, may be seen. Fortifying his house as best he could, he sent to Boston for help, and there stood through the long war with Philip, a lone outpost between the enemy and the settle- ments below. Again, in King William's War, an attack was STUKIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 145 planned upon Dunstable. This was, however, fortunately averted through information given ])y two friendly Indians who went to Major Henchman, then commander of the little garrison at Pa wtucket Falls, and disclosed the whole plot. Help was immediately sent to Dunstable, and forty men were despatched to scour the country for the enemy. Thus the attack was prevented ; but tlie Indians were not the kind to be turned from their purpose, and a few weeks later four Indian spies were seen lurking about the settle- ment of Dunstable. They were carefully watched, and soon all seemed quiet. But there is never any means of reckoning upon the movements in Indian warfare. Not many days passed, when one beautiful September evening there stole into the quiet little village, a band of Indians bent on vengeance. Creeping up to a little farm-house, somewhat apart from the village, they fell upon the inha])itants and murdered five of them. A few days later and another attack ; and two more of Dunstable's brave pioneers were murdered. No one town in our state, perhaps, stood in so exposed a position and suftered so much from dread of the foe. But the little village lived on through these trying times and came at last to be the beautiful, peaceful, prosperous little town it now is. 146 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 147 SUDBURY. Another town not far from Concord, is the small town of Sudbury. Of itself little can be said, other than that it is quiet, prosperous — a beautiful village in the summer-time. There is, in its centre, a large, open green, with the white church, always a part of the New England village landscape. There is the Wadsworth Monument, erected in memory of Captain Wadsworth, who, in King Phillip's War, fell bravely fighting to defend the tower. And there is the Walker Garrison, the only one remaining of the several garrison houses built in the early days of the town when garrison houses were so needed. Along the highway — towards South Sudbury — stands a group of oaks, certainly centuries old. Beneath these oaks, old town records say that Washington and his soldiers passed ; beneath them a military force, marching to Ticonderoga and Crown Point, in the French and Indian Wars, stopped to rest But more than for these historic landmarks, will Sudbury be always dear to the people's hearts for the associations clusterino^ about its old tavern. 148 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. This tavern, called in "ye olden tyme"the Red Horse, was built as early as 1686 ; and for a full century and a half was kept by generation after generation of the Howe family. It stood on the turnpike '' twenty-three good English miles from the Boston Town House," and was a favorite inn for tired travelers, after a day's traveling out from Boston, over hard, rough roads. But it is not its history, though that is full of cheer, that has made the tavern ftimous. It is to the poet Longfellow that its glory is due. Although only twice did he ever stop in the little town, there was something about the tavern that sus^o^ested to him the idea of makino' it the site of the Wayside Inn, of which everybody has read, who has ever read anything of our beautiful })oet. In a journal of Longfellow's, we lind these words about the tavern and about the poems : 1862. Oct. 11. — Wrote a little about the Wayside Inn — only a beginning. Oct. 31. — October ends with a delicious Indian- summer day. Drove with Fields to the old Bed Horse Tavern at Sudl^ury — alas, no longer an inn. Nov. 11. — The Sudbury Tales go on famously. I have now five complete, with a great part of the prelude. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 149 Nov 18. — Finished the Prelude to the Wayside Inn, Nov. 29. — At work on Torquemado, a story for the Sudbury Tales. I need not tell you about these stories ; by-and-by you will read them for yourself. But the description of the tavern, as Longfellow gives it in his prelude, will not be out of place • " One Autumn night, in Sudbury town, Across the meadows bare and brown. The windows of the wayside inn Gleamed red with fire-light through the leaves Of woodbine, hanging from the eaves, Their crimson curtains rent and thin. ^' As ancient is this hostelry As any in the land may be, Built in the old Colonial day. When men lived in a grander way. With ampler hospitality ; A kind of old Hobgoblin Hall, Now somewhat fallen to decay, With weather-stains upon the wall, * And stairways worn, and craz}^ doors. 150 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. And creaking and uneven floors, And chimneys liuge, and tiled and tall. " A region of repose it seems, A place of slumber and of dreams, Remote among the wooded hills ! For there no noisy railway speeds, It torch-race scattering smoke and gieeds : But noon and night, the panting teams Stop under the great oaks, that throw Tangles of light and shade below, On roofs and doors and window-sills. Across the road the barns display Their lines of stalls, their mows of hay. Through the wide doors the breezes blow. The wattled cocks strut to and fro, And, half effaced by rain and shine, The Red Horse prances on the sign. Round this old-fashioned, quaint abode Deep silence reigned, save when a gust Went rushing down the country road, And skeletons of leaves, and dust, A moment quickened by its breath. Shuddered and danced their dance of death. And through the ancient oaks o'erhead Mysterious voices moaned and fled. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 151 And farther on in the prelude he says : " But first the Landlord I will trace ; Grave in his aspect and attire ; A man of ancient pedigree, A Justice of the Peace was he, Known in all Sudbury as " The Squire." Proud was he of his name and race. Of old Sir WilUam and Sir Hugh, And. in the parlor, full in view, His coat-of-arms, well framed and glazed. Upon the wall in colors blazed ; He beareth gules upon his shield, A chevi'on argent in the field. With three wolf's heads, and for the crest A Wyveru part-per-pale addressed Upon a helmet barred ; below The scroll reads, " By the name of Howe." And over this, no longer bright, Though glimmering with a latent light. Was hung the sword his granclsire bore In the rebellious days of yore, ■ Down there at Concord in the fight." Sudbury people themselves are very proud of their old .tavern, and do not, like too many of our " property 152 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. improvers," long to pull it down and build in its place a more fashionable hotel. It will be preserved by the people as long as its old oaken frame shall stand ; and judging from the well- preserved appearance now, that wall be for many, many years yet. It has been proposed that the old sign of the Red Horse again be hung over the door, that the tavern may be marked to all travelers who pass through the village. Who knows but some day it may be again the scene of literary gatherings? And perhaps, then will be told within its walls, stories as wonderful and as beautiful as those which Longfellow has made the travelers tell who gathered there so long ago ! * * Human hearts remain unchanged : the sorrow and the sin, The loves and hopes and fears of old are to our own akin ; And if, in tales our fathers told, the songs our mothers sung. Tradition wears a snowy beard, romance is always young. — J. G. Whittiek. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 153 WENHAM LAKE. " THE WITCH OF WENHAM." The ever-changing winds of the early springtime blew warmly upon the sunny slopes of Crane's River; and m every woody dell the violets opened their eyes, as the twitter of the birds wakened them from their winter's sleep. "Just the day to go a-wooing," thought Andrew, as he slipped on his Sunday coat. But before he could leave the house his mother called after him, "Where are you going, son Andrew? " " Only to Wenham Lake to catch a few perch," he replied. " No, no, my lad," said his mother," you are not going after fish, I am sure, but to see that blue-eyed witch, who 154 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. lives beside the pond. Ah me ! there is no witch in Salem jail that is not a saint compared to her." " Hush, mother," the young man cried," how can you be so cruel ? That fair girl has as white a soul as any God ever made. She takes care of her mother, who is ill and blind, and reads to her daily from the good Book, and cheers her heart with comfortino^ sono^s." But Andrew's mother would not be convinced, for, in those days, the belief in witchcraft was the rule and not the exception. And when, in spite of her pleading he left her and rode toward the lake, she wept long and bitterly. Finally she bethought herself that probably the minister could break the witch's spell with holy words and prayers ; so she hastened to his house and told him all about it and l^egged him to save her son. "Do not be afraid," said the preacher, "we will save Andrew and punish the witch, for many a good Avife can testify to having heard the girl speak words which have changed the butterflies into yellow birds ; nor is that all ; for they also say that even the wild bees will fly to their hive at her bidding, and that when she calls the fish Avill swim to the shore and take their food from her hand. But be comforted, for even now Marshall Herrick rides to the lake to take her prisoner." STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 155 So Andrew's mother left the minister and went home, fully convinced by those silly stories that the girl must belong to the Evil One, and that she deserved to be severely dealt with. Marshall Herrick sat in his saddle ready to start on his cruel errand, fully believing that arresting witches was a most commendable and praiseworthy service and particu- larly pleasing to the Lord. Just fancy how grim he must have looked on his gaunt, gray horse, as he rode swiftly through Wenham town after poor Andrew's sweetheart. Of course he found her and carried her off too, with her hands tied fast together, though she begged him pit- eously to let her go, or at least to allow her to say good-by to her mother. " Let me free," she begged, " for your sweet daughter's sake." But he answered, "I'll keep my daughter safe from witchcraft and will take you to Salem as the law com- mands." So he carried her away from all she loved to a dreary farm-house, and there shut her up in the dim old garret and bolted the door behind him. Slowly the hours passed by and the shadows lengthened and even the twinkling stars, as they came out one by one? 156 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. were not much company for the poor girl in her utter loneli- ness. But by-and-by the moon rose, and through the little window the moonbeams strayed in, making silvery paths of light on the dusty garret floor. And just at midnight Andrew's sweetheart fancied she heard her lover's voice whistling a well known tune. Filled with hope, she forced the oaken scuttle back, and, listening, heard him whisper, " Slide softly down the roof." You may be sure she did not wait to be told twice, but slid carefully along the sloping roof till she hung from the eaves. Then Andrew called, '^ Drop down to me, dear Jieart, and I will break your fall." Gladly she obeyed him, and almost before she knew it, he had placed her on his pillion, and they rode silently away. When they were once out of hearing, Andrew urged his horse to the top of his speed, and away they went over hill and dale, fording the streams as best they might, but never drawing rein. Next day, at noon, they reached the Merrimac River, and the old ferry man, as he put them across, stole many glances at the girl's fair face, and when the}^ reached the shore, he exclaimed as he watched them mount their horse, " God keep her from the evil eye and from the harm of STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 157 witches ! " Then Andrew's sweetheart laughed merrily and whispered, " He does not know that I am a little witch ! " So they rode on and on, and at sunset reached the friendly town of Berwick, where the good Quakers made them so welcome, that they remained there in safety until better days came. And better days did come soon; for people began to realize that in the excess of their zeal and self-righteousness they had been persecuting the innocent, and they grew to be ashamed of their fear of witchcraft, and finally set free those who had been imprisoned. So, after the sadness of spring and summer, came a winter of content ; and when once more the early violets purpled the hill side, and the meadow-land along the inlets from the sea grew green with the spring-tide glory, intol- erance and superstition gradually died away, and innocent people no longer filled the jails. Would you not like to read this story in the poem from which it was taken? I am sure you would, and if you will do so, you will find that Whittier's tuneful words picture vividly the mistaken notions of those days ; and as you read his verses you must remember that witches were thought to work their charms and spells, not only beside the clear waters of Wenham Lake, but also in other towns and villages, not so very far away from where Andrew helped his sweetheart to escape. 158 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. S STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 159 SALEM. Salem is one of the oldest American settlements. It is a beautiful city, situated on a lovely bay, and was once a chief sea-port. When Boston Harbor was blockaded in the those early times of trouble with England, I don't know what would have become of the colonists if Salem had not generously allowed them the use of their harbor. Salem has many beautiful streets, with great spreading elms on either side, meeting overhead. And so many quaint old mansion houses ! Many of them can boast of timbers brought from England before the days of mills in the colonies. And there are so many legends and stories connected with this town. So many homes of early colonists of note ; so many sites of "first churches," and "first houses," and "first battles," that you see Salem must be rich indeed in stories of colonial times. Still, of them all, I suppose nothing would attract more quickly the interest of any historical lore gatherer than." Gallows Hill," where the witches used to be hano^ed. 160 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. Now, witchcraft did not originate in Salem, as many not widely-read people seem to think. Indeed, one would hardly know where to say it did originate. It seems, through all the centuries, to have burst out from time to time, in some form or other, like a smouldering volcano. For some time in Old j!ngland it had been raging, pre- vious to its breaking out in ilio colonies. (31dmen and old women were being hanged ind drowned, tortured and burned, hundreds upon hundreds of them. Every vessel that came over brought stories upon stories of wonderful witch-doings. Everybody talked about it ; everybody feared it ; everybody watched for signs of it. Is it any wonder then, that in time, everybody began to see signs of witches among their own people? Is it any wonder then, that a few sensitive, imaginative, sickly persons, and many terrified children began to really think themselves be- witched? Many an innocent child in those days suffered agonies of fear as he lay in his rough little attic room and listened to the moanins^s of the forests and thousfht of the witch stories that every where were being told. Many a child was thrown into terrible convulsions from simple fright, and then the blame of it laid upon some poor, inno- cent old woman in the town. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 161 HOUSE or REBECCA NOURSE. Ill what is now Dan vers, aljout three miles from Witch Hill, or Gallows Hill, stands the old "Noarse House." The story of this house is as follows : Rebecca Nourse, one of Salem's kindest, most gentle old ladies, lived in the quiet old house with her sons, brave, good lads, who loved their mother with a tenderness and 162 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. devotion that shows she must have been a rare, good woman, and a strong, wise mother. Every! )ody loved Rebecca Nourse. No one ever so ready to help in the church, no one so ready to defend the down-trodden, lift the fallen, speak words of cheer to the discouraged, no one so ready and willing, and skillful in the sick room as she. Aunt Rebecca Nourse was a village word. Everybody knew Aunt Rel)ecca ; everybody loved her. Everybody could remember some time when her kind word, her care, her goodwill had carried them over hard places, given them fresh courage and helped them on. Fancy then the horror, the fear, the surprise, when one day, through the village, went the startling news, ''Rebecca Nourse is a witch ! Rel)ecca Nourse is a witch ! " Sure enough, a circle of girls, who sometimes met together to sew and to gossip, hadl)een anuising themselves by trying all sorts of witch charms, telling witch stories, ghost stories, until they had frightened themselves into a genuine panic. " We are bewitched ! We are bewitched ! " they cried; "O, save us, save us, we are bewitched! See, see, it is Rebecca Nourse ! There ! There ! there she is ! Up the chimney ! In the air I Save us ! Save us !" STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 153 And the excited girls, frightened out of their senses, would fall to the floor in convulsions. Eebecca was seized, thrown into prison, examined by the conclave of men who pretended to be able to judge, and was sentenced to be hano^ed. It was a cruel, cruel thing ; but the country was beside itself with fear. No one dared sleep in the dark for fear of ghosts ; no one dared ride through the forests for fear of witches. A ride through the woods at night was something indeed to be dreaded. The bushes were full of spectres. The rustling of the leaves were whispers of the witches. The tall white birches were ghosts ; and the very boughs, the outstretched arms. Many an otherwise brave rider spurred his poor steed along through the forest, driving him as did Tam O'Shanter in the Scotch story. * * Ye who listen to the tale of woe, Be not too swift in casting the first stone, Nor think New England bears the guilt alone. This sudden burst of wickedness and crime Was but the common madness of the time. When in all lands that lie within the sound Of Sabbath bells, a witch was burned or drowned. — H. W. Longfellow. 164 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. ROGER WILLIAMS' HOUSE, {^aleill). The house in which Roger Williams once lived stands on the corner of North Street. Let us walk down this street till we come to North River and the old bridge which spans it. Now shut your eyes to the rows of crowded buildings, and imagine great trees on both sides of the street, and poor, oftensive, tan-be-fouled North River here, a wide, pure, beautiful stream, winding out from among wooded hills. If you can do this you will have some idea of the STOKIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 165 appearance of this part of the town when the bridge was built, away back in 1744. A monument now stands at one end of the bridge to mark, as it says " the place where the first armed resistance was made to British forces." By the time you have read the inscription you will want to know all about the fight. OLD NORTH BRIDGE, {Salem). Captain Mason had been ordered by a committee, sent by the Continental Congress, to give into the care of Mr. John Foster, who lived on the north side of the river, seventeen cannon, for the purpose of having them fitted with carriages. Some one went at once to Boston and told Governor Gage that cannon were being secreted in and about Salem. 166 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. "That Av^ill never do," thought Gage, "we must stop that at once." So he sent off, with all speed, Colonel Leslie, with three hundred troops. Leslie and his men arrived by water off Marblehead, about noon of the next day, which happened to be Sunday ; but the quick-witted Marblehead people surmised what the soldiers were about and sent men to warn the Salem citizens. The Salem people were attending church. The meet- ings were dismissed, the bells were rung, the drums were beat, alarm guns were fired, and the people gathered together to plan what they should do. On the south side of Salem is South Kiver. The troops from Marblehead were obliged to cross this by the way of the South l)ridge. Salem people accordingly set to work and destroyed this bridge. While Leslie was repairing the bridge so that his troops might pass over, the Salem men hid the cannon, some in a gravel pit, and some in the woodlands near by. Some one told Leslie that the guns were at North Salem and away filed the troops down North Street. They reached the North Bridge, when lo ! the bridge is drawn up, and on the opposite side of the river is a long STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 167 line of citizens, resistance tind determination written all over them. "You may as Avell give up the cannon at once!" bawled Leslie to a Salem citizen. ^' Find them if you can! take them if you can! they loill never he surrendered " came the answer. Surprised and angry, Leslie drew up his men in line and prepared to open fire. "I warn you," said Captain John Felt, a Salem gentleman, to Leslie, "that if you fire not one of your men will leave Salem alive." Leslie then tried to cross his men in the fishing boats which lay in the river, Ijut the patriots saw what they were about and set the boats adrift in a twinklino^. It looked very much as though blood would be shed, but the Rev. Thomas Bernhard, of Salem, coaxed the citizens to allow the troops to cross the bridge and march a few rods beyond, provided they would then return peacably to Boston. The agreement was made, the troops marched the appointed distance, but no cannon could they find, and so were obliged to march back empty handed. Thus ended " the first armed resistance " to British rule in America ; and had it not been for wise and cool-headed Thomas Bernhard and John Felt, the first blood of the Revolution would have been spilled just here. 168 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. ****** When Salem's commerce was at its height, South river, broad and deep, crept far up into the town, even to the spot where the old stone depot stands, and was crowded with every kind and size of craft. In those days the little folks kept eager watch of the harbor, each one anxious to be the first to bear the tidings to the owner's ears of some returning vessel. Often, shad- ing their eyes from the sun, they could count as many as five India-men sailing into the harbor at once. Sailors just returned chatted on street corners with those just about to depart, or lounged at the sailors' board- ing house, w^here the children listened with awe to their wonderful stories of foreign lands and treasures. The shops were full of these treasures, from tea to screaming parrots, and monkeys that frisked about among the roofs at their own free will. There were the mathematical instrument maker's shops with their queer swinging signs in the shape of a quadrant : there, too, were the sail-lofts where, on the smooth floors, sat the sail makers, their curious thimbles fastened to the palms of their hands, busily stitching the great, white sheets of canvas that were to bear the ships away through storm and sunshine. Do you wonder that everything on land and sea STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 169 and river seemed all the time inviting the lads to become sailors ? But once out upon the sea, so tempting and blue in the sunshine and making such grand music in the storm, the young adventurers did not find everything to their tastes. We can hardly begin to imagine their danger. They had no correct charts, and no instruments by which to find out their location upon the sea. Then there was always the danger of running upon rocks and shores in the dark- ness, for there were no friendly light-houses upon the shores. In such days as these, and amid such perils, the ship Margaret, with a crew from Salem, Ipswich and Beverly, set sail from Salem Harbor (1809). In spite of some small mishaps, they reached the Eastern shores safely, took on their cargo — tea and pepper probably — and cruising around to Naples, set sail from that city for Salem. For more than a month they sailed peacefully ; but one morning in May a squall struck the ship and she was thrown, as sailors say, "on her beam ends." It was impos- sible to right her. The next morning found the sea more calm, and one of the boats being mended, four men left the ship. Luckily 170 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. they were picked up by a passing brig bound for Boston. The anxiety and suffering of those left upon the wreck were terrible. They raised a signal of distress ; one by one four ships passed them by, but oifered no help. Many of the crew died, and one morning at sunrise, unable to endure imprisonment longer on the dangerous w^reck, about seventy-fiye of them set sail in a small yawl which belonged to the ship. Terrible days followed, days of fierce hunger and fiercer thirst, of watching the horizon in hopes of relief which never came ; of seeing friends and brothers lose hope and die one by one. One day, in June, came a slight fall of rain. How eagerly the dying men held up their handkerchiefs in the hope of catching a few precious drops ! In a few days twenty-eight of the number were dead. Then came a morning with the sea running heavily, when they lost their oars, when their masts were broken away, and they gave themselves up for lost. Some looked gloomily into the water in silence, some wept, others, more hopeful, looked towards the horizon. ^^Ho! a sail I a sail!'' Handkerchiefs, bits of sails, flutter wildly in the air. Loud cries come from the parched throats of the ship- STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 171 wrecked crew, nearer comes the ship and now, O joy ! it is bearing down upon them. The ship proved to be from Gloucester. The captain of the vessel rescued them, treated them with the greatest care and kindness, and took them safely home. OLl) FIRST CHUliClI, ~,Se, the Bible; and this he read to them and taught them to read. This Bible was, by-and-])y, when printing-presses came, the first book printed in the American colonies. He lived a long, happy, useful lifco STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 187 Here on the Charles, where South Natick now stands, an Indian town was laid out, which consisted of thi;ee long streets— two on the Boston side of the river, one on the other. The houses w^ere built in Indian fashion ; and there was one large house to he used for school and church. There was a large fort, too, circular in form, and palisaded with trees. This little community had a strange form of govern- ment. They formed it as nearly as they could u]:>on the jTovernment which, in the Old Testament, we are told that Jethro proposed to Moses — " a hundred met together, chose one ruler of a hundred, two rulers of fifties, and ten rulers of tens." It was a hard time the good Apostle had with his wild converts, and a puzzling time he had trying to translate the Bible into their queer language. Here is a line of the Lord's Prayer : Our Father in heaven ; hallowed Nushun Kesu Kqut Quttianatamunach thy name come thy kingdom Ktowesuonk : Peyaumuutch Kukketassutam oouk But there ! I am sure you will not care to read another word. Think of trying to learn to read and spell the 188 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. words of that language ! It makes us think reading in our own language easy after all. And certainly it is, compared with the Indian lano^uagre. But what an endless amount of patience, and what a world of love for these poor Indians Eliot must have had to be willing to learn their whole language that he might make for them an Indian Bible ! There is a funny little story told illustrating the troul)le he often had to find a word in the Indian lanijuao^e to express the meaning. At one time he wished to translate from the Book of Judges : " The mother of Sisero looked out at the window and cried throuo^h the lattice." He went to the natives one after another for the word. He tried to show them by signs what he meant. At last they gave him what seemed the right word, and he wrote it down. Imagine his surprise some years later, when he had learned their dialect better, to find that the word they had given him meant eelpot. There his translation stood saying, in Indian language, " The mother of Sisero looked out at the window and cried through the eelpot." STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 189 190 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. CUTTING l>OWN MORTON'S MAY-POLE. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 19 J OLD MERRY MOUNT, Out on Wollaston Heights is a place called Merry Mount. I wonder how many Massachusetts children know its history. Among so many sad stories as we find in the early history of our colonies, I know of no merrier one than the story of Merry Mount. This region was settled by Captain Wollaston, and he brought Avith him, in spite of his own soberness, a "jolly crew," as the sailors express it. There was one Thomas Morton, who, good hearted soldier though he was and a great favorite among his fellow-soldiers, still was perhaps not quite as honorable as we would like to think him. He fretted under the rigid manners of the people and under the stern government of the captain. Some way we cannot but have some s^mipathy with him, when we recall that the people were so severe in their ideas of what they called right and wrong that a hearty laugh was looked upon with as great a horror l^y some as an oath would have been. It is little wonder then that one day when the Cap- tain was away, Morton said, "Come, come, my good lads I 192 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. The captain's away, now for sport ! Let's dance and sing ! sing and dance ! " Morton's spirit of rebellion was " catching." One l)y one the soldiers joined him, and such a merry-making as followed ! Never had the sober old ibrests resounded to such shouts and cheers. " A M.ay-pole ! A May-pole ! " cried Morton. " Let's have a^ May-pole ! Let's have a good old English May- pole dance ! Let's drink and carouse, and dance and sing !" The Indians joined them ; and night after night the white men sat about the camp-fires, or danced a])out the May-pole, with the Indian warriors and the Indian squaws hand in hand. "The May-pole," says an old description of this time, "was a goodly pine-tree eighty feet high, with a fine pair of horns nailed upon the top of it." It is a pity that Morton and his band could not have been content to merely have a "grand good time." Some way we coukl not but have sympathized with them that they burst out from the over rigid customs of the day and seized upon the joy that belonged to them. But to be true, we must admit that, after a time, they grew reckless and wild. It is a hard thing, you know, when you are having great fun, to know just when to STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 193 stop. So with these merry-makers. They went so far that Captain Miles Standish with his troops marched from Plymouth to arrest them. Now Miles Standish was not one to dally in any work he undertook. And before the merry-makers had any suspicion of what was at hand, this energetic, prompt captain was upon ihem, Morton was in chains, the Indians, terror stricken, Avere driven away, and the revels at Merry Mount came to a sudden end. 194 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. QUINCY. Qaincy is a town of contrasts, for, while one part of it is given np to every day life, another section of it is very sedate and dignified., with houses l)uilt a long time ago, when people never thought of such a thing as re-building every few years, as they do now-a-days. BIRTHPLACE OF JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. Among them is the old Quincy House, with its solid tim])ers of oak, still bearing upon them the marks of the axe ; and on the walls of one of the rooms may yet l)e seen the (juaint Chinese paper, which, tradition says, was STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 195 bung there when everything was made new and fresh, in honor of pretty Deborah Quincy's marriage in 1775. And then, there is the Adams House, with its Ions:, sloping roof. Such a nice roof to slide down in the winter time, one would think, if only the snow drifts were high enough under the eaves. You are all interested in this house, for here John Adams lived, and here his famous son, John Quincy, was born, and rocked in the queer old cradle you see in the picture. CRADLE IN WHICH ADAMS t>LEPT. While he was still quite young, the family moved into a more pretentious mansion, called the Yassae House. John Adams was very fond of this new home, but as he grew to be an old man, he tired of almost everything, and used to say, that he wished he could go to sleep in the 196 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. autumn like a dormouse, and not wake up until spring. No wonder he felt that way, after all his busy, active life devoted to serving his country. He did the work of two or three ordmary men, and, in spite of it, lived to be over ninety. He died on the 4th of July,- 1826, the fiftieth anniversary of Independence, just when all his townspeople were celebrating the day with games and sports, and the ringing of bells and booming of guns. Very pleasant were these sounds of rejoicing to the staunch old patriot, whose famous toast, "Independence Forever," will live forever in the loyal hearts that own allegiance to the Stars and Stripes.* When John Adams died, his son had already reached the height of his political fame, and, as President of the United States, had practically made his home in Washington. Even during his childhood, he did not spend much time in Quincy, for he went abroad with his father, who was sent to France and England to negotiate peace and alliance with those countries. Soon after his arrival in France, John wrote home to his mother as follows : Passy, September the 27th, 1778. Honored Mamma : My Papa enjoins it upon me to keep a Journal, or a Diary of the Events that happen to me, and of objects that I see, and STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 197 of Characters that I converse with from day to day ; and altho' I am Convinced of utility, importance and necessity of this Exercise, yet I have not patience and perseverance enough to do it so constantly as I ought. * * A Journal Book and a letter Book of a Lad of Eleven years old Can not be expected to Contain much of Science, Literature, Arts, wisdom or wit, yet it may serve to perpetuate many observations, that I may make, and may hereafter help me to recollect both persons and things, that would otherways escape my memory. * * * * Was not this a wise conclusion for a lad of eleven to come to? And he did not forget it either, for in 1779 the diary was commenced, and in after years he rarely failed to chronicle even the happenings of his every day life. If you will look at the picture, you will see just how a page or two of John Quincy Adams' first attempts at keeping a journal looked. I think he did pretty well for a small boy, don't you? This diary, taken as a whole, is one of the longest works of the kind to be found in any library ; and it is very valuable, because, in later years, Mr. Adams made mention in its pages of every man of note in the United States. He had the best opportunities for knowing them intim- ately ; for they were nearly all engaged in that political life 198 STORIES or MASSACHUSETTS, STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 199 in which he proved him8elf so great a statesman, that even those who did not agree with his views, could not fail to admire his courage, wisdom and integrity. How many men who hold pul)lic offices now-a-days, can lay claim to the proud distinction of being unswerv- ingly faithful to what they believe to be the best interests of the country? As Minister to Prussia, and later to Russia, as Com- missioner to treat for peace with Great Britain, as Senator, Secretary of State and President of the United States, one leading characteristic marks the official life of Mr. Adams, — he was absolutely incorriiptihle. But the town of Quincy lives in the present as well as in the past. It calls our attention not only to what has been, but also to what is. From noted names and famous old houses with their conscious air of belonging to other days, Ave may turn to the lovely, modern homes which line the shady streets, and to that well-known section of the town, where large derricks stand as sentinels, guarding the granite works. Surely, you have heard of Quincy granite. Perhaps you know, too, that one of the quarries is called the Bun- ker Hill Quarry, because it was bought and worked for the 200 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. purpose of obtaining this exceptionally fine granite for the Bunker Hill Monument. Many noted buildings have been built of stone brought from Quincy ; among them King's Chapel in Boston, and the famous Hancock mansion, which stood on Beacon Hill. In order to move the large blocks of granite a railroad was constructed, called the Granite Railway. Although it was only four miles long, it cost $50,000 dollars. The rails were of wood and placed upon stone tires, and horses were used to draw the cars, for almost forty years ; then the Old Colony Railroad Company l)uilt a modern railroad, which was opened for traffic in the fall of 1871. This new means of transit proved to be of great ben- efit to Quincy ; which is now one of the pleasantest suburbs of Boston, and since the changes which have been made in favor of temperance, it may fairly be said that never did the town contain Avithin its limits so many prosperous, well- to-do, contented, self-governed and well-governed human beings as are contained within them to-day. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 201 DOWN ON THE CAPE. Do you ever think that it is " down on the Cape " that Massachusett's history began? Why, to be sure, Plymouth is on the Cape ; and that otlier old town, Province- town. I have known certain newly-made American citizens to make what we call spread-eagle speeches about Plymouth Rock, " our national corner-stone ; " and then, in the next breath, toss out some careless, indifferent, even slurring remark of Cape Cod. Very likely he forgot his geography ; perhaps he was a Bostonian and thought that if Plymouth was any- where, it was somewhere out in Boston Harbor. Boston is a great city, of course, we all agree. We may well be proud of it ; for it is historic as well as com- mercial and populous ; but let us not forget that our State is greater than our Capital ; and that Cape Cod is a large and important part of that State. First of all, "the Cape" was settled at Plymouth, in 1620, by the Pilgrims. But as we read of Plymouth in the historical part of our book, we w^ill say no more of that town here : but pass on to other Cape towns of which we do not so often hear. 202 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. Fifty years ago people traveled to the Cape in a sailing packet. It made its trip once a week only ; and although to us who are angry at the railroad corporation if there is not, at least, an hourly train to everywhere, this may seem rather slow living and slower traveling, still I fancy the very lack of speed and conveniences of those days had its compensation. The soil of the Cape, is not inviting; but, after all, perhaps it is only a little less inviting than most of our New England soil ; for New England has never, and never will, shine in the world's great market as an agricultural country. But then, line soil is not by any means a sure indication of fine people ; rather it is the rugged soils that have produced races rugged and strong both in mind and body. And Cape Cod is no exception. The Cape Cod people are and have always been among the most rugged of our " rugged New England people." Speaking of the soil, Samuel Adams Drake in his " Nooks and Corners " says of Cape Cod : " The region between Sandwich when you enter the Cape and Orleans when you reach the bend of the fore-arm is Ixid enough ; but beyond this is simply a wilderness of sand. The surface about Brewster and Orleans is rolling prairie, barren, yet thinly covered with an appearance of soil. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 203 Stone walls divide the fields, but from here down the Cape you will seldom see a stone of any size in going thirty miles. My faith in Pilgrim's testimony began to diminish as I looked on all sides, and in vain, for a ' spit's-depth of excellent black earth,' such as they tell of. It has, perchance, been blown away, or buried out of sight in the shiftings constantly going on here." Speaking of the shape of the Cape, he says : "To me it looks like a skinny, attenuated arm thrust within a stocking for mending — the bony elbow at Chatham, the wrist at Truro, and the half-closed fingers at Provincetown. It seems quite down at the heel about Orleans, and as if much darning would be needed to make it as good as new." Nowhere in New England have the old Pilgrim customs been so nearly preserved as here on ''the Cape." It is on " the Cape " that you find so many of the old-tash- ioned double houses; the fire places, the old ovens, the " spare -chambers," with their " live-geese " feather beds heaped upon the massive mahogany bedsteads ; and the cold, stiff, unused '' best rooms " opened and warmed only on festal days. It is on "the Cape" that communicies are still contented, industrious, thrifty, temperate ; and all of tliese are Pilgrim customs. "The Cape" houses are filled with relics. It is the 204 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. place for old china and old furniture collectors ; for down there are real " Washington plates " and furniture that would make an antiquarian's heart bleed ; and the good "Cape" people love and reverence these for their real worth, and will not sell them for dollars and cents. Every old house has its treasures, too, from foreign lands ; there are " cedar chests " in every garret, with India shawls, and oriental fans, and silk l)rocades. For every family has had its sea captain, and its sailor lads. And many a house mourns the loss of these l)rave men ; and the treasures they brought — this on their tirst voyage, that, alas, on their last voyage — are carefully laid away and watched over as sacred things. Next to the towns of Plymouth and Provincetown, Truro, Sandwich, and Yarmouth, are perhaps as well known to us as any. Truro was named from the city of Truro in Cornwall, England ; and from the prominent family names of both Truros — Payne, Dyer, Rich, Higgins — there is no doubt as to the relationship of the towns and their i)eople. Truro's first meeting-house is no longer standing " on the hill of storms ; " ])ut for a hundred and twenty years it stood on the " wind swept plain," the great land mark of Cap Cod, which the incoming sailors, STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 205 straining their eyes to see, welcomed as the first sight of home. The general history of these quiet little Cape towns is, after all, so alike in general color — varying only in their local tints — that perhaps in a little book like this, where we can do little more than glance at even the largest cities, it is quite as well to let them pass together in the general picture we have had of them in the few pages W'C have just read. Sandwich and Yarmouth, so recently celebrating their two hundred fiftieth anniversary, have brought themselves into notice more than they ever dreamed of doing. That was a great day for the little towns, and a proud day too. For sons and daughters and grand-sons and grand- daughters, Avho had long ago gone out into the world to seek fame or fortune, or both, came back again to the little town, to prove how noble a little band of good and great people these towns had sent out into the world. And the little town welcomed them, one and all. There were processions and brass bands ; there were flags and banners weaving from historic houses ; and there were speeches and clambakes — these always go together on "the Cape ; " and in the evening, a boating carnival on the beautiful lake, Chinese lanterns, fire-works, everything 206 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 207 that could make the day one grand gala both for residents and visitors. The settling of a new town was always a hard, severe experience to its founders : but little Sandwich had more than its share of misfortune ; for its settlement was, so the old people say, preceded by the worst " line storm " New England ever knew, and was followed by an earthquake which did no little damage to all the country around. Wolves, the New England pest, conceived a special fond- ness, so the discouraged farmers sometimes thought, for the Sandwich farms. In both Sandwich and Yarmouth the only roads were Indian trails, some of which are pointed out to this day. The road to Plymouth ran along the shore, and until the grist-mill was l)uilt at Sandwich, these farmers walked to Plymouth with their corn upon their shoulders, or, following the old Indian fashion, pounded the corn to meal in stone mortars. Both towns had their share in Quaker persecution, l)ut at no time was the persecution in the Plymouth colony as cruel as in the Bay Colony. And they had their share in Indian troubles. No town in King Philip's war suffered more than did these two brave little settlements. 208 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. SANDY NECK LIGHT-HOUSE. Love of home is a .strong characteristic of Cai)e Cod people. One writer, in speaking of them, says : "To the Cape Codder, like the Icelander and the Swiss, his native province is the best that the sun shines on. A Cape man finds nowhere else so glorious a home, so full of such sweet memories. The Cape colors him all his life — the roots and fibre of him. He may get beyond, but he never gets over the Cape. Make him a merchant at Manilla or Calcutta, a whaler in the North Pole, a mate STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 209 in Australian waters, a millionaire on Fifth Avenue, a farmer in Minnesota, and the Cape sticks to him still. He will recall in odd hours, to his life's end, the Creek tide on which he floated inshore as a boy ; the hunger of the salt marsh in haying time ; the cold splash of the sea-spray at the harbor's mouth, the spring of the boat over the bar when he came home from fishing ; the blast of the wet northeaster in the September morning, Avhen, under the dripping branches, he picked up the windfall of golden apples. And he will see, in dreams perhaps, the trailing- arbutus among it^ gray mosses on the thin edge of a spring snow-bank, the bubbling spring at the hill-foot near tide water, the fat, crimson roses under his mother's windows, with a clump of Aaron's rod or lilac for background ; the yellow dawn of an October morning across his misty moors, and the fog of the chill pond among the pine trees; and, above all, the blue sea within its headlands, on which go the white-winged ships to that great far-ofl:* world which the boy had heard of and the grown man knows so well." 210 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. THE FIRST THANKSGIVING DAY. " Aud now," said the governor, gazing abroad on the piled-up store Of the sheaves that dotted the clearings and covered the meadows o'er, " 'Tis meet that we render praises because of this yield of grain ; 'Tis meet that the Lord of the harvest be thanked for his sun and rain. " And, therefore, I, William Bradford (by the grace of God to- day, And the franchise of this good people), governor of Plymouth, say,— Through virtue of vested power, — ye shall gather with one accord And hold, in the month of November, Thanksgiving unto the Lord. "He hath granted us peace and plenty, and the quiet we've sought so long ; He hath thwarted the wily savage, and kept him from wrack and wrong : And unto our feast the sachem shall be bidden, that he may know We worship his own Great Spirit, who maketh the harvests grow. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 211 "So shoulder your matchlocks, masters; there is hunting of all (degrees ; And fishermen, take your tackle and scour for spoil the seas ; And maidens and dames of Plymouth, your delicate crafts employ To honor our first Thanksgiving, and make it a feast of joy ! " We fail of the fruits and dainties, we fail of the old home cheer ; Ah ! these are the lightest losses, mayhap, that befall us here. But see ! in our open clearings how golden the melons lie ! Enrich them with sweets and spices, and give us the pumpkin- pie ! " So, bravely the preparations went on for the autumn feast : The deer and the bear were slaughtered; wild game from the greatest to least Was heaped in the colony cabins ; brown home-brew served for wine ; And the plum and the grape of the forest for orange and peach and pine. At length came the day appointed ; the snow had begun to fall, But the clang of the meeting-house belfrey rang merrily over all, And summoned the folk of Plymouth, who hastened with glad accord To listen to Elder Brewster as he fervently thanked the Lord. 212 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. In his seat sat Governor Bradford ; men, matrons, and maidens fair. Miles Standisli and all his soldiers, with corslet and sword were there : And sobbing and tears and gladness had each in its turn the sway, For the grave of sweet Rose Standish o'ershadowed Thanksgiving- day. And when Massasoit, the sachem, sat down with his hundred braves, And ate the varied riches of gardens and woods and waves, And looked on the granaried harvest, with a blow on his brawny chest, He muttered : " The Good Spirit loves his white children best ! ** — Makgaret J. Preston. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 213 PROVINCETOWN. On the 11th of November, 1620, the Mayflower came to anchor in the beautiful harbor of Provincetown, and here the Pilo-rims refreshed themselves after their lonof sea- voyage, and took in wood and water, and fitted out a little skiff in which to coast alono^ the shore. Just think how they must have enjoyed the fragrance of the oaks, the pines, the junipers and the sassafras, and other sweet woods which lined the shores of the bay, and sheltered its waters from the force of the storm. While the Mayflower swung to and fro at its anchor- age the first little Pilgrim, Peregrine White, was born. He took very kindly to New England clouds and sunshine, growing steadily up to manhood, proud of the distinction of being the first real Yankee boy on the Cape. All these happenings and many more should make the sunny harbor and near-by town very attractive to us, if some pleasant day we should take a trip to the very end of Cape Cod, where ProA'incetown has the world all to itself. Snugly nestled among the sand-hills lies this little town ; small compared to the manufacturing cities, but large in its importance as a valuable fishing station from 214 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 215 whence many and many a vessel sails away for its annual cruise to the Grand Banks. At first the boats employed carried only six or eight men, Init of late years larger vessels have been built, and many of the schooners are manned by crews of twenty-five. The season for these trips extends from April to September, and thousands of dollars worth of cod-fish are brought back every year, for Cape Cod turkey, as the Cape people call it, is one of the staple food supplies of the world. But cod-fish are not the only fish the men of Province- town sail away after in their boats. No, indeed ; there are mackerel and blue-fish to be caught in the oreat Atlantic Pond ; and then the shell-fish, — dear me ! we must not forget them — clams, scallops, shrimps and lol)sters, and that very important member of shell-fish society, the oyster. All along the shores of this part of the Cape known as Barnstable county, lie the oyster beds ; acres upon acres of them, forming more than two-thirds of all the grounds in the State. But, unfortunately, the shifting sand is destroying them, and some day not far distant these beds will be a thing of the past. Notwithstanding the fact that Provincetown has large 216 STpRIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. interests in sea-faring industries, tlie towns-people make even the sandy soil about home prove a good investment. Amonii- the sand hills lie the boi^s and the lowlands ; and when the l)ushes and stumps have been removed and the surface covered with a layer of sand, cranberry vines are set out, and before long the ripening berries gladden the hearts of the owners, and give the boys and girls, as well as older people, a chance to show what nimble lingers can do. Although the cranberries require constant care, the business is a profitable one ; for when the fruit is sorted, and the barrels and boxes filled, it is a very easy matter to ship them to Boston and elsewhere by the Old Colony Railroad, which connects the smaller towns with their larger brothers inland. So every year the number of acres devoted to cran- berry culture increases ; and who knows but that in the future we shall have unlimited cranberry sauce from the Cape Cod cranberry fields. I shall not tell you much about the life-saving stations at Provincetown, for you will read about the Surf-Side Station at Nantucket, and the story of one is in many ways the story of all ; a pleasant story enough, too, in the sunny days of mid-summer, when men may take their STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 217 218 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. ease amid the bay berries and beach grasses ; l)ut a sad one in the winter time ; for then come days and nights of storm and disaster, when every risk must be talven, and every nerve strained, in order to rescue lives and property from the sea-beaten wrecks. But most of the stories of Provincetown itself are not those of the dangers of the near-l)y ocean, but of the enterprise and success which have made the place one of the leading towns on the Cape; and more than all this, if you ever visit the farm-houses or village-houses, and stroll about among the wharves or along the beaches, and row along the shore, you will carry away with you, I am sure, only pleasant memories of Provincetow^n and the sheltered harbor where the Mayflower cmce floated safely at anchor. ■^5. •**:3:yX» STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 219 STORIES OF NANTUCKET. " God bless the sea-beat island ! And grant forever more, That charity and freedom dwell As now upon her shore." Nantucket, anchored thirty miles out at sea, makes a capital pleasure ground for the good people of Massachu- setts, who should have a special interest in it since it belongs to the Commonw^ealth. A pleasure ground of fifty square miles is worth having, don't you think so ? The Indians wdio were its first owners evidently appreciated it, and even had a legend as to the way in which it was discovered. The story goes that a great many moons ago an im- mense bird visited the shore of Cape Cod and carried away a large number of small children. This so enraged the good giant Mashope, Avho dwelt there, that he waded into the sea in pursuit of the bird, and, crossing the sound, reached Nantucket. Here he found the bones of the children heaped up under a large tree ; but whether he captured the bird or not the legend fails to tell. 220 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 221 However, it seems that before he left the island he sat down for a comfortable smoke, and smoked so much and so long that he caused the fogs which have since prevailed there. In allusion to this tradition, when the Indians saw a foe: rising, they would say, "There comes old Mashope's smoke." A rather more reliable account of the discovery of Nan- tucket is that which gives the credit to Bartholomew Gos- nold, a noted English navigator, who is thought to have visited the island in 1602. After that year white men must have frequently landed there, although the Indians remained in almost undisturbed possession until 1G59, when one Thomas Macy, with his family and two or three friends, came from Salisbury in a small sail-boat, bringing with them such of their posses- sions as they could conveniently carry. Afterwards Macy and othei-s purchased the island from Thomas May hew, to whom it had been deeded by the Eng- lish proprietors. Erom the first the Indians regarded the white men with favor, and in return the settlers honestly bought and paid for the land they occupied, and successfully set- tled what disagreements arose, in a fair and peaceable manlier. So the town of Nantucket experienced none of 222 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 223 those horrors of Indian warfare from which so many other settlements in Xew Eng-land suffered. As the years passed, other families came from the mainland, and the general prosperity increased. Very many of the Indians died ; the remainder gradually became Christianized ; and many adopted the customs and even the occupations of the white men. But both races were soon to be taught a new industry ; for in 1690 Ichabod Paddock, from Cape Cod, came to Xan- tucket and showed the islanders how to kill the whales that frequented the harbor. Their success was immediate, and soon small sloops and schooners were built for the chase ; these were finally fitted out with try- works, so that when whales were captured and the blubber cut up, the men could try out the oil on ship-board and not have to wait until they returned to the shore. Now came the palmy days of Nantucket. With all the sea for a work-shop, and all the world for a market, no wonder the whaling interest grew to be of large proportions. Fleets of vessels lay at the wharves, loading or unloading ©r refitting for new voyages. Harpoons, lances and cutting spades, coils of rigging and lines for the boats were familiar objects. Coopers, blacksmiths, riggers and rope- makers had no idle moments from Monday morning till 224 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. Saturday night. And if they were busy men, what do you think the candle-makers were, for before the Revohition three hundred and eighty tons of spermaceti candles were manufactured nt Nantucket every year? But the Revolutionary War interfered sadly with the whalemen. Everything necessary for the outfit of their ves- sels must be brought to the island ; but if they traded with the colonies, the British seized their ships, and if they pro- cured their supplies from foreign ports, the Colonial Govern- ment pronounced them smugglers, and dealt with them accordingly. How glad they must have been when the seven years of war were ended ! As soon as possible, after peace was declared, the good ship Bedford, with a cargo of four hundred and eighty-seven butts of oil, sailed for London, and had the honor of ])eing the first vessel to hoist the American flag in any British port. At the close of the Revolution business revived, but did not reach its former activity until after the war of 1812. Then once more the warehouses were crowded with goods and the streets thronged with heavy drays and busy, pros- perous people ; and vessels sailed away to come back not only laden with oil, but bringing silks and teas, and fruits and wines, and curiosities of every sort from the many for- STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 225 eign ports they touched at. Frequently the captains would take their wives with them when going long voyages, which sometimes lasted two or three years, and many a Nantucket boy and girl has been born on some of the sunny coral islands of the Pacific. But after 1842 the whaling interest gradually declined. Disastrous fires visited Nantucket. The great fire of 1846 caused a loss of a million dollars, and crippled the people greatly. Then came the discovery of petroleum and a consequent decrease in the value of whale oil ; whales were scarcer and the expense of fitting out vessels grew greater. So before many years the whale ships became scattered ; some were used in the coal trade between South American ports, and some, alas, once so often laden with valuable, if greasy cargoes, were left to lie idly rotting on the California coast. Although the Nantucket of to-day seems a very sleepy place compared to the bustling sea-port it once was, it does not lack in interest. There are the light-houses, which I think most of you would enjoy visiting, and the old wind-mill, which was built in 1746, probably for Eliakim Swain, though there isti story that the women got tired of grinding samp and meal 226 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. in the clumsy stone mortars, {ind iinally concluded to ask Elislia Macy, a handy sort of man, to build them a wind- mil]. Macy thought it all over, but could not quite decide how it should be done ; but when he went to bed that night he dreamt just how to build it ; and upon going to work the next dtiy ho followed the phm with very good success. As very likely that is not a true story, I think I must tell you one that is : In the tower of the Unitarian Church hangs an old Spanish l)ell, purchased in Lisl)on in 1812 hy Captain Clasl)y and brought to Nantucket that same year. It had belonged to a chime of six bells, and still bears an inscrip- STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 227 tion, showing that the devout people of Lisbon had intended to hang it in one of their churches as an offering, ^' To the ofood Jesus of the mountain." For three years after it was safely landed, it lay stored in a cellar ; then it was purchased from the owner by sub- scription and placed in the town. Now, this Lisbon bell had a tone so low 'and musical that its fame was noised abroad, which finally reaching Boston, the good people of that city desired to procure the bell for the Old South Church. So they sent their agents, who offered to buy it, saying that they had a very line clock in their tower, but unfortunately their bell was broken, and they would like to have the old Spanish bell to take its place. But the representatives of the Unitarian Church replied that they had a very fine bell in their tower, and would like to know at what price the Old South Society would sell their clock. Surely, after that the agents must have returned home rather crest-fallen at the result of their mission. There are so many stories of Nantucket that we shall hardly know where to stop. I should like to tell you about the good times every one had at the yearly sheep- shearing, when the sheep were gathered together and washed and then shorn of their wool. This was no small task, for at one time from seven to ten thousand sheep 228 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. roamed over the commons. When the work was done the good time began, and old and young made merry and enjoyed themselves so heartily that this yearly event became as popular as our great national holiday. Like many other old customs the shearings did not long survive modern ways. Yet after all there is much on the island "that time doe.? not seem to change ; and if you will visit the place some summer you may still see the old mill and the Lisbon bell, and may ramble through the once busy streets, now grass grown, and fish from the deserted Avharves ; and if you keep your eyes and ears open, I am sure you will come away knowing a great deal more about Nantucket than what I have told you. ;ankotv light, (Xa7)tucJ:et). STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 229 AMONG THE LIFE-SAVERS. When the bleak winter weather comes, and the wind whistles down the chimney, and the snow heaps itself on the window ledge as if waiting for a chance to fly in, do you ever think of the sailors who can not make port to escape the storm, but must stay on deck and handle the icy ropes, and keep the vessel on her course through all the bitter cold of days and nights at sea ? If you think of the many 230 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. danoers they encounter, you will not l)e surprised to know that every year many ships are lost in mid-ocean, or wrecked on the coast, and that frequently all on ])oard are drowned. To prevent as many of these disasters as possible our Government has established more than one hundred and seventy stations along the Atlantic coast, besides many in the Lakes, where skillful men, who were once sailors them- selves, keep a sharp lookout, especially in stormy weather, for any vessels that seem to be in distress. Our own Com- monwealth has twenty of these stations, and one of the most interesting of them is on the island of Nantucket, thirty miles from the mainland. The town of Nantucket lies along the western and southern shores of what is called the inner harbor, to dis- tinguish it from the great outer harbor, where very many vessels may lie anchored at one time, though they would find entrance difficult on account of the sand-bar, which disputes the way with all comers, and upon which many gallant ships have come to grief. Indeed, the island itself is a very large sand heap, nearly fifteen miles long and of varying breadth, and for the most part quite level and destitute of trees ; for even the most hardy kinds cannot long thrive in the sandy soil, nor do the rough winds give them much chance to grow. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 231 Out on the South Shore, at Surf Side, nearly two miles and a half from the town, is the Life-saving Station, and here, even in the summer time, the Avaves roll in with great force, and, as they break, till the air with flying spray. From the first of September until the end of April, the little house is well filled, as from six to eight men form the crew ; and though their hardest work is during the severe storms which drive vessels dangerously near the shoals in which that part of the coast abounds, still on sunny days they are by no means idle. The life-boats and their car- riages, the wreck-gun or mortar by which lines are shot to a disabled vessel, and all the beach apparatus, must be kept in readiness for instant use. Then, too, the captain of the crew frequently calls them out for a practice drill, so that every man may know exactly where his place is, and what will be expected of him. From the top of the station a sharp lookout is kept during the day time, but at sunset two of the crew start out and, going in opposite directions, each patrols the beach for three miles, always looking seaward and listening for signals of distress. Each patrolman carries relief signals, and if he discovers a vessel standing in toward the dangerous shoals, he lights one of them to warn the ship oft', or if she has already struck, to let those on board know that assis- 232 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. tance is at hand. As soon as a wreck is discovered, the life boat is launched from the station, or, if that cannot be done, the lighter surf-boat is hauled to a point opposite the wreck, and the attempt to reach her is made. It some- times happens that the boats cannot be used, and when this is the case a life-line is shot across by means of the wreck- gun. When the strong rope attached to the line is made fast to the vessel's mast, a life-car or buoy can be run from the shore to the ship. Sometimes there are women and children on board. They are carefully placed in the car and so securely fastened that they can come through the high waves and surf safely ; and, of course, they are the first ones sent on shore, for until they are landed no really brave man would leave the ship. Perhaps you will wonder if there are so very many wrecks after all. Yes, notwithstanding all the precautions that are taken, the maps of the ocean, called charts, which all ships carry, and the light-houses and light-ships, to warn and guide the sailor, there have been over five hun- dred wrecks on the coast of Nantucket alone ; and in the summer time, as one wanders along the beaches, he may see spars and other wreckage half hidden in the sand. All that IS left, perhaps, of what were once noble ships. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 233 GLOUCESTER. You all know where Cape Ann is, do you not? If so, I need not tell you where to look for Gloucester, for it covers nearly all the Cape, and finds a new name for itself in every separate corner it occupies. But whether we stop in Bay View or Annisquam, or Magnolia, or East or West Gloucester, we shall still be in this same famous fisherman's city. For two hundred and fifty years the fisheries have been the principal business of Gloucester. Before the settlement at Plymouth had been commenced, the vessels of France and Eno^land were fishino^ all alons^ the coast of Massachusetts and in Cape Ann's beautiful harbor. In 1626 the first settlement was made near it, and in 1639 the little village received the name of a "fishing plantation," and kept it until three years later, when it was made a town. This harbor I have mentioned, is one of the finest in the north-east coast, and a large fleet might safely anchor within it. In the still dusk of a summer's evening, when half a thousand vessels, more or less, lie sheltered from the .winds and wave?, their many colored lights flash like 234 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. fire-flies through the darkness, and, urged by the restless tides, they tug gently at their moorings as if eager to spread their wings and be off' again. And out from the harbor at the right time of year, thousands of vessels sail away, to come ])ack laden with cod and mackerel and halibut. Those engaged in cod-fishing carry strong lines, five hundred to one thousand feet long, and upon these, at intervals of from five to seven feet, are attached the hooks, from one to five hundred on each line, one end of which is fastened in the boat, the other anchored at the bottom of the sea, and its position marked by a floating buoy. In in-shore fishing, large nets set quite near each other are used. Most of the fishermen, however, go to the Grand Banks. The grounds for mackerel fishing cover 70,000 square miles, and as the fish move in schools from one part of the ocean to the other, the catch varies greatly from year to year. Fishing being the principal industry, you will not be surprised to learn that ship-building has been carried on at Gloucester since 1643. Here the first ship was launched, and this is the way it came to be called a schooner: "Mr. Andrew Robinson having constructed a vessel, STORIES OF MASSACHTJSETTS. 235 which he masted and rigged in the same manner as schooners are at this day, on her going off the stocks and passing into the water, a bystander cried out, 'Oh, how she scoonsf Eobinson instantly replied, 'A scooner let her be.' From which time vessels thus masted and rigged have gone by the name of 'schooners.'" In the old days Gloucester vessels were sent to trade with other countries, taking fish, beef, pork, hams and flour, and in return bringing cargoes of molasses, sugar, coffee and cocoa. These trips were made in the winter time, when the men could not go fishing. Sometimes, too, they coasted to Virginia, Maryland and North Carolina and traded for corn, and beans, and bacon. But all these ventures were given up long ago. Gloucester does not pay much attention to manufoc- turing industries; indeed, the towns-folk are quite too busy collecting tribute from the sea. But there is one very important business carried on there, — that of boxing and putting up thousands of dollars worth of " boneless codfish " for fish dinners and the ever popular fish-ball. One firm alone employs three hundred men all the year round to prepare and send oft' this dried fish, while the 236 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. odds and ends are made into a fertilizer, which is sold to the farmers throughout the State. But the people's time is not all given up to fishing and kindred pursuits. No, indeed ! Gloucester is a progressive little city, with fine churches and schools, and a free public library, the generous gift of Mr. Samuel E. Sawyer. I wonder if any more intelligent use can be made of money than that of enriching a town with a library for the people. All honor to the men who thus show both their liberality and their wisdom. From what I have told you, you will see that Gloucester has much to make it of great interest to visitors, both old and young; and many do go there every summer for the rest and change, and all the novelty they find in living for a little while among the fishermen of Cape Ann. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 237 MARBLEHEAD. Let us sail into the little harbor at Marblehead. It doesn't seem right to approach Marblehead in any other way. Marblehead isn't Marblehead unless you come first upon it at the bottom of the hill where the wharves are. You see the long point of land extending out from Marblehead, on your left as you sail up the bay. That is Marblehead Neck ; a beautiful seaside resort. The houses are, you see, "beach-cottages." By-and-by, they will all be closed for the summer and the " Neck " will present an air of desertion. But the errand old weather-beaten rocks will still be there, the bright beacon at the point will still shine, the old churn will still roar. As w^e sail along, look backward and off to sea, toward those rocky shored islands, about which the surf sparkles in its white light. Such names as these islands have ! I wish they could speak to us, tell us their history and how they came to be given such meaning names. They sound as if, they might have been regular old pirate names ; Satan, Koaring Bull, Great Misery, Little Misery, Cut-throat Ledge. Did you ever hear such names ? 238 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. W ^^ VIEW IN MARBLEHEAU. Before the Revolution, Marl:)lehead was the principal fishing port of Massachusetts. But when the war came, none more ready, none more brave and willing, none more eager to join the poor little American army, and do their part towards defending their homes, as these same ])rave fishermen of Marblehead. It was a hard season for the Marblehead women ; 1)ut Marblehead women in these early days were a sturdy class. Nowhere in the colonies could you find stronger, braver women than they. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 239 Again, in the war of 1812, tlie Marblehead fishermen were called away from their peaceful little shore ; and when the war was over, five hundred of these brave men lay dying in British prisons. Just how and by whom Marblehead was settled, is not known. It seems rather strange, that in this little colony, where there were so few people, that every one might easily know every other one, and where every little " clearing " was of especial care and interest to all its brother " clearings," that this settlement should be so shrouded in mystery. But as it was simply a fishing station at first, perhaps the little fishing-huts grew so gradually into homes, and the homes grew so gradually into a villao:e, that no notice was taken of it as a new settle- ment. But it is time our boat had reached the wharf, I am sure, and we may as well be getting ready to land. "But where shall we land?" do you say. Right here, at Tucker's wharf. See, there is a flight of green, shin}^ salty steps dipping down into the water in a most inviting manner. We will bring our boat up close. Now hurry up the steps — be careful ! do not slip. Those steps have done brave service for many a long year ; it is no wonder they are covered with sea moss. 240 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. Now we are at the top. Rather a disorderly place, is it? Well, you see there are so many fish barrels, and old boats, and new boats being painted, so many lobster cages, coils of rope, and heaven only knows what else dear to the fisherman's heart, and essential to the fisherman's trade, that the wharf has to be what a housekeeper would call "cluttered." But we will wind around among them, back of that building ; now we are on a Marblehead street. Such a funny street ! No regularity ! the houses in no lines, facing in all directions, projecting into the streets, staring at each other, turning their backs on each other ! Surely each house-builder followed his "own sweet will," when this town was laid out. Let us read this pretty description that Samuel Adams Drake has written of his journeyings in and about this quaint old town : "It was only after a third visit that I began to have some notions of the maze of rocky lanes, alleys, and courts. Caprice seemed to have governed the location of a majority of the houses by the water-side, and the streets to have adjusted themselves to the wooden anarchy ; or else the idea forced itself upon you that the houses must have been stranded here by the flood, remaining STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 241 where the subsiding waters left them ; for they stand any- where and nowhere, in a ravine or atop a cliff, crowding upon and elbowing each other until no man, it would seem, might know his own. " An air of snug and substantial comfort hung about many of the older houses, and some localities betokened there was an upper as well as a nether stratum of society in Marblehead. Fine old trees flourished in secluded neighborhoods where the brass-door knockers shone with unwonted lustre. I think my fingers itched to grasp them, so suggestive were they of feudal times when stranger knight summoned castle-warden by striking with his sword hilt on the oaken door. Fancy goes in unbidden at their portals, and roves among their cramped corridors and best rooms, peering into closets where choice china is kept, or rummaging among the curious lumber of the garrets, the accumulations of many generations. On the whole, the dwellings represent so far as they may a singular equality of condition. It is only by turning into some court or by-way that you come unexpectedly upon a mansion having about it some relics of a former splendor. "There are few sidewalks in the older quarter. The streets are too narrow to afford such a luxury, averaging, I should say, not more than a rod in 242 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. width ill the older ones, with barely room for a single vehicle." One of the first points of interest to you in Marble- head, will be the Lee Mansion. This was built in these early colonial times by Colonel Lee, who was one of the most earnest patriots in the days of the Revolution. There is little now about the mansion to attract the attention of a passer-T)y ; but once enter its broad front door, and you will know at once that you are in a house that has a history. First of all you find a broad hall — a very broad hall, and on its walls such remarkable paper ! There are great panel-shaped pictures upon it of Greek life, battle scenes, Roman cities, and one of them is a lively picture of a sea- fio'ht. This paper, once so beautiful, has now rather a dingy, dirty appearance ; but, considering that this hall was not long since used as a fish-market, it is little wonder that it is greasy and dirty. Doesn't it seem rather a pity to let such a erand, old house as this fall into the hands of those who care nothing for its historical associations ? But notice the rich wood of the staircase and the carv- ing of its balusters. Notice how many patterns there are in the carvin«:. All this was brought from England in STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 243 ships, and was, it is believed, carved especially for the Lee Mansion. Now let us enter the room just here at the right. O dear, dear! The old Lees would groan, I think, if they were to enter it now. Once that grand old fire-place crackled and glowed with the fragrant fire of pine boughs. Once over it was painted a great picture of Esther before Ahasuerus — the wonder and admiration of all the simple folk of the village. But we can notice the rich wainscot- ing which reaches from floor to ceiling, and the w^onderful carvings. How they must have lighted up in those quiet, old days when the fire crackled and glowed so kindly ! There used to be upon the walls large painted portraits of Colonel and Madam Lee ; but these are now in posses- sion of certain of the Lee descendants in Boston. Colonel Lee, if he looked as he did in his picture, and there is no doubt he did, was certainlv a fine lookino^ man. He had an honest, open face, a clear, intelligent eye, and has an air of true dignity as he sits there, richly dressed in his brown velvet coat laced with gold, and the white Avig, which was, you know, the fashion of the times. Madam Lee, too, was noble looking. Her full, black eyes, her self-possessed manners, seem to prove that in her time she was indeed mistress of her position. 244 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. FORT SEWALL (Marblehead) . But we must not linger here. Out into the hull again. Don't forget that wonderful paper. I don't know where you could ever see anything like it again. I wonder if the Lee children knew what the pictures meant. If they did, they knew more of Greek and Koman history than children now-a-days know, I fear. Just glance up the staircase once more as we pass out. See that broad landing — large enough for a room. What a house this would be to give a colonial party in ! How I should like to see the guests wandering up and down this grand old staircase, the women in their rich brocades, their powdered hair, the men in their velvet coats and knee- STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 245 breeches, their sparkling buckles and their long-tailed wigs ! But let us Avalk along the waterside of the town. A dusty road? Yes, but a paved, well-ordered street would be so out of place in this quaint old town. Here is the old fort — Fort Sewall. Many a story of the brave Revolutionary days could this old fort tell us, could its gray, weather-beaten walls only speak. In those massive stones that make the o^reat wall overhanjjino^ the dark water, it is said that for many years there were imbedded British bullets. But time and the storms have worn away the rock and cement, and these bullets have long ago fallen into the sea. Upon the hill, overlooking the town, is the old burial- ground. There was a church upon this hill once — Marble- head's first church; and it was built here, high above the village, that it might serve as a look-out and a watch tower. Nothing of the old church remains now ; and, thank heaven, nothing of the terrors and dangers of those days w^hen watch-towers were needed remain. St. Michael's is the next place for us to visit. This is but a common little wooden church, to be sure, but it has a story to tell. It was not always as simple and plain as it looks now. The original roof had seven gables, a tower 246 STOEIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 247 and several spires ; but this present roof was built over the old, and so that ancient glory is quite lost. But there is much inside the church of interest still. From the ceiling there is a chandelier of most curious pattern, which was a gift from an English merchant. In the organ loft is a quaint, wheezy little organ ; and behind the little pulpit is the Decalogue, lettered in the strange old English type of those times. It is said that under this church there Avere buried, at one time, those of the colonists who died, that the Indians, who were on the watch to fall upon the settlement, might not know that their number had been weakened by the loss of so many of its protectors. Have you read the story of old Floyd Ireson, who was tarred and feathered and borne in a cart Ijy the women of Marblehead? You will find it among Whittier's poems; and although Marl^lehead people do insist that there isn't "one word of truth in it,'' I'm sure I don't see why, if Floyd Ireson was as l)ad as the poem represents him, Marl)lehead women shouldn't have tarred and feathered him and dragged him in a cart through the streets of Marblehead. But then, you know, Whittier may have made free with the "poet's license," both as it regards Floyd Ireson's crime and his punishment. 248 STOKIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. To be sure, that manner of punishing may not be quite the fashion to-day, but none of tlie colonial fashions are the fashion to-day. And in speaking of this poem of Whittier's I am reminded of another — that sad little poem of Lucy Larcom's — "Hannah Binding Shoes." In those few verses you get, perhaps, as full an understanding of the sad lives of many a Marblehead Avonian and the dangers which beset the brave Marblehead fisherman, as pages upon pages of authentic history could give you. Twenty winters Bleach and tear the ragged shore she views ; Twenty seasons ; Never one has brought her any news. Still her dim eyes silently Chase the white sails o'er the sea. Hopeless, faithful, Hannah's at the window, binding shoes. — Lucy Larcom. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 249 NEWBURYPORT. Newburyport is one of Massachusett's prettiest sea- ports. Its main street, seven miles long, is a beautiful wide avenue, with great, over-arching elms, and grand old mansion houses, the homes long ago of the early sea- captains and wealthy sea-merchants. One of the land-marks of Newburyport, and the one, perhaps, to which a stranger would first be directed, is the old residence of Lord Timothy Dexter. Now Lord Timothy, as he called himself, and as he came to be called by all who knew him, was, to say the least, a peculiar person. He was one of those whom half the world will call a fool, the other half, a genius. He was enormously wealthy. He seemed, indeed, to have the Midas touch, for every business transaction, however absurd, seemed always to turn to his favor. For example, at one time a vessel was being fitted out for the West Lidies. As was the custom of those early times, every Newburyport man was anxious to make some little investment for himself, anxious to send something which should bring back to him from these rich, far-away islands, its value doubled and trebled. 250 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. "What shall I send?" asked Lord Tmiothy, strutting up and down the wharves, as was his special delight. " Better send a cargo of warming pans," growled out a sailor near by — one of those who looked upon the unbalanced, self-conceited, strutting Lord Timothy as a creature fit only for an asylum. " Warming pans ! warming pans ! " cried the easily- imposed-upon Lord Dexter. " Warming pans it shall be ! " and away he flew to get his cargo together. Now, to send w^arming pans to a country as hot as the West Indies, was as ridiculous as it would be to export ice to the land of the Esquimaux ; and as the simple-souled Lord Dexter hastened away to collect his cargo, you may be sure the sailors and the merchants lau2:hed amonof themselves and looked upon it as a huge joke. Soon all Newburyport knew that Dexter's last " freak " was to send warming pans to the West Indies. But nothing is so true as the old saying that " he laughs best who laughs last." The weeks rolled on ; hy- and-by the vessel returned with its West Indian freight, to be distributed among those who had invested their shares in the cargo it had carried away. The wharves Averc filled with the expectant merchants — none among them more expectant than our good Lord Dexter. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 251 '' My warming pans ! my West Indian investment ! " had been the continual brag of Dexter in all these weeks, until his words had become phrase words for the whole town. " Now for our warming pans ! " laughed the people among themselves, as the vessel drew nearer and nearer the wharf. But Lord Dexter never saw himself an object of ridicule ; or if he did, he never looked upon it as anything more than one added expression of the foolishness of the whole world. Lord Dexter was, indeed, like the old Quaker who said, "All the world's queer, wife, but thee and me ; and thee's a little queer." But the vessel had reached the wharf ; it was unloaded ; the caro^o was divided accordin^: to the success or failure of the various investments of the Newburyport merchants. And behold, Lord Timothy Dexter's was the greatest among them all ! Lord Timothy Dexter's share of profits outstripped and pushed out of sight the shares of New- buryport's greatest merchants ! Lord Timothy Dexter's warming pans had carried the market ! " What does it mean ? what can it mean ? " asked the sailors and the merchants, looking into each other's puzzled faces. "Warming pans in West Indies ! Has the climate 252 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. there changed? Have the people gone crazy, like Lord Timothy himself? " " 1 knew it ! I knew it ! " cried the excited Dexter, waving his great three-cornered hat, and racing like a wild man up and down the wharf. " Well, you see," explained one of the incoming sailors, " it does seem as if everything that Dexter, fool though he is, sets out ^o do is bound to be a success. Now, those warming pans — who would have supposed there could be any use for those in a climate so hot, so scorching hot? But the natives seized upon those warming pans as if they were the thing of all things the country needed. ^They are sugar pans ! they are sugar pans ! ' cried the women. 'With them we strain the sugar! See, see, how we strain the sugar ! ' " And sure enough, the pans, used in the north in those early days to hold hot coals with which to heat the cold rooms and the cold beds of the great unheated mansion houses, did make, in this sugar-boiling community in the West Indies, the very best of pans through which to strain their sugar. And so Lord Dexter's fortune was made ; and his joke-loving friends were forced to admit that the joke had indeed recoiled on themselves. The story spread from STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 253 254 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. town to town ; and Lord Dexter's warming pans became a household word throiio-h all the country. Lord Dexter's Hie was full of strange experiences like this ; and many are the stories the old Newburyport resi- dents will tell you of this strange man. His great house on High Street was in its time a marvelous sight. Very large and broad, the grounds were generously adorned with great pillars, on the tops of which Avere all sorts of figures of leading men of the times — himself, you may be sure, among the rest. Another deed of this Lord Dexter, and the one, which, next to the Avarming pan adventure, has perhaps immortal- ized him most of all, Avas the Avriting of an odd little book, which he called "A Pickle for the Knoaaing Ones." And a pickle indeed, it Avas ; surely no one but very knoAvini2f ones could even have understood it. The spelling, like everything else al)out Lord Dexter, was purely original. He scorned imitation in every form. Here is a page from his Avonderful book. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 255 THE PICKLE. FR03I HIE MUSEUM OF LORD TI3IOTHY DEXTER. Lord Dexter relates how he icas created Lord b>j the People, announces his intention of forming a Museum of great men, that shall be the wonder of the icorld, and shall confound his enemies. Ime the first Lord in tlie youuited States of A mercary Now of Newburyport it is tiie voise of tlie peopel and I cant Help it it and so Let it gone Now as I must be Lord there will f oiler many more Lords pretty soune for it dont hurt A Cat Nor the mouse Nor the son Nor the water Nor the p]are then gone on all is Easy Now bons broaken all is well all in Love Now I be gin to Lay the corner ston and the kee ston with grate Remembrence of my father Jorge Washington the grate herow 1 7 sentreys past before we found so good a father to his shiidren and Now gone to Rest Now to shoue my Love to my father and grate Caricters I will shoue the world one of the grate Wonders of the world in 15 months if now man mourders me in Dors or out of Dors such A mouserum* on Earth will annonce O Lord thou knowest to be troue fourder hear me good Lord I am A goueing to Let or shii- dren know Now to see good Lord what has bin in the world gr-it wase back to owr forefathers Not old plimethf but stop to Addom & Eave to shoue 45 figures two Leged and four Leged because we Cant Done weel with our four Leged in the first plase they are our foude in the next plase to make out Dexters mouseum I wants 4 Lions to defend thous grat and mistry men from East to wist from North to South which Now are at the plases Rased the Lam is not Readey in short meater if agreabel I forme a good and ♦Museum. tPlyiiioi^th. 256 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. peasabel government on my Land in Newburyport Compleat I taks 3 presedents hamsher govenor all to None york and the grate mister John Jay is one, that maks 2 in that state the king of grat britton mister pitt Rouf es king Cros over to f ranee Lones the 1 6 and then the grate bonneparty the grate and there segnetoure Crow biddey — I Command pease and the gratest brotherly Love and Not fade be Linked to gether with that best of trone Love so as to govern all nasions on the fass of the gloub not to At the close of the second edition of this strange volume, Lord Dexter placed a whole page of commas, periods, wonder marks and question marks, saying, "'in my first edition the nowing ones complane that I put in no stops so here I put in A Nuf that they may pepper and solt it as they plese." No locality in our State is richer in legendary and his- torical lore than this beautiful old city of Newburyport. I wish there were time to tell you of them all ; l)ut some time, perhaps, you may find time to go there for yourself. There stands the old Whitcfield church, with its whispering gallery and the vaults in which lie the bones of Whitefield himself ; the old Garrison House, the birthplace of William Lloyd Garrison, our noble Anti-slavery leader; and so many more well preserved places of historical interest that it would take pages upon pages to tell you of them all. The Newburyport people have an innate love and STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 257 reverence for the old; und for this reason, there is much more really to be seen there of real historical interest than in many other towns claimino: much more. The Newbury- port people value the grand old trees, the old mansion houses, the old homes in which illustrious people have lived ; and every pains is taken to keep them, as far as possible, as they were in early times. It would be well, indeed, if some other of our old Massachusetts towns would follow Newburyport's example, and rescue from the greed of land buyers and speculators the old land-marks that remind us of the early days of our brave old forefathers. The riches of the Commonwealth Are free, strong minds and hearts of health; And more to her than gold or grain The cunning hand and cultured brain. For well she keeps her ancient stock, The stubborn strength of Pilgrim Rock ; And still maintains, with miVler laws And clearer light, the good old cause I — J. G. Whittier 258 STOlilES OF MASSACHUSETTS. ISRAEL PUTNAM. BIRTH-PLACE OF *' OLD PUT." Let us take a walk out upon the quiet, old Andover road — a mile out beyond the witch neighborhood. Do you see there where the Newburyport turnpike crosses the Andover, that large, high-roofed house? A part of it seems much older than the rest. The old part was the original house ; and it was there that Israel Putman, known in Revolutionary times as ''old Put," was born. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 259 In the chamber in which he was born is the same old furniture, so rich and massive. "Old Put," you know, was noted for his energy, his daring, his prompt, decisive character. A sturdy, hardy old Puritan was he. You remember it is said he was at work ploughing in his field when he heard the sound of cannon in one of those first battles of the Revolution ; and that he coolly dropped the plough, hastened to the house, armed himself and went to the l^attle. Nor was he too late. Putnam never was too late. And this time he was there in the midst of the fight before the battle was more than underway. Putnam was a man of few words. With l^im, a thing either was or wasn't, and that was the end of it. One letter, written ])y him during the w^ar of the Revolution, tells the manner of man he was : Sir;— Nathan Palmer was to-day taken in my camp as a spy ; he is condemned as a spy ; he shall be hanged as a spy. P. S. Afternoon. He is hanged. Israel Putnam. I suppose Israel Putnam without the fox story would be like George Washington without the hatchet story. So here it is : It was in 1749 that Putnam moved from Salem to 260 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. Pomfret, a little town in Connecticut not far from Hartford. Here he purchased a large tract of land, and in his own energetic way began farming. But it was, for a long time, hard, up-hill work. There w^ere droughts in summer, destructive storms in harvest time, loss of cattle in winter, and, with all the rest, plundering of his harvests and sheep- folds. One night there were seventy sheep and kids killed and many more wounded. Now, this was done by a wolf which for years had infested the neighborhood. That it Avas the same w^olf was known by her tracks, one track being shorter than the other three, from having lost in a trap the toes of one of her feet. More than once had the farmers set out against her, but she w^as a wise old wolf and had every time escaped them. But when Putnam came into the neighborhood, the death knell for the thieving creature was struck. To be tormented year in and year out by one and the same wolf, was not Putnam's way at all. "See here," said he, to his neighbors, after this loss of seventy sheep and kids, "this has gone just far enough. Now I propose to stop work, give up everything and a^^e«c7 — mind you, attend to the capturing of this wolf. Now, who of you will join me?" STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 261 Putnam had a way of expressing himself among his fellow men that never failed to cany weight and conviction straight to the hearts of his hearers, no matter whether the subject was wolves, dead kids, or the Continental Congress. And so a campaign was planned against this common enemy, the wolf. Putnam and four other neighbors were to watch alternately, two at a time, night and day, till she was captured. They started forth with their bloodhounds, and followed her to the Connecticut river. Here they found, from the irregular tracks, that she had turned back towards the farms. On they followed, hour after hour, through the long night, until near noon on the following day, Avhen they drove her into her den. And now the people gathered with sticks and straw, and sulphur, guns, dogs, fire ; determined to put an end to her. First the blood-hounds were driven in ; but they returned, wounded and yelping with fright. Then the fire and burning sulphur were carried into the den ; but no wolf came, forth. Guns were fired into the den, but the wolf still lived ; for they could hear her moaning. Xow Putnam's temper was aroused. "She will escape us yet," said he, " by some underground passage that we 262 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. do not know of. Here, give me the gun. If.no one else dares, I myself will attack her." And seizing a gun, he crawled into the cave under the rocks, carrying with him a gun, and a ])lazing torch. A long rope was tied around his Avaist by which he was t;) be pulled out of the den, if, perchance, he, instead of the wolf, should ]:>e killed in the attack. It was a strange cavern, dark and damp. The open- ing, only about two feet square, led for some little distance straight into the ledge ; then it descended into a dark underground space. Cautiously and slowly Putnam crawled along to this space. There, at the farthest corner of the den, he could see the two glaring eyes of the wolf. At the sight of the torch, she growled and gnashed her teeth. Putnam drew nearer and nearer. The ^volf srrow o fiercer and fiercer. She howled, rolled her eyes, curled herself up, and made ready to spring. Putnam levelled his gun and fired. Stunned l)y the noise, and suffocated by the smoke, he was glad enough to be dragged forth by the rope into the open air. Waiting only for the smoke to clear away, he entered again. There lay the wolf dead, the blood pouring from the o^un shot wound in the side. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 263 Seizing her by the ears, Putnam gave the signal, and was dragged forth again from the cavern. Putnam, you may be sure, was henceforth the hero of the neighborhood ; and I am glad to say that from that time on, his fortunes seemed to change. His crops suc- ceeded, his stock w^ere unmolested, his orchards were fruitful, and success attended him on every hand. This same bravery and daring characterized his deeds in the wars that followed with the Indians, and in the war of the Revolution. It is said that Putnam, now General Putnam, w^as ploughing in his fields, when w^ord was brought him of the Battle of Lexington. "I must go to Boston," said he; and dropping his plough, he started without another word ; and long before the Battle of Bunker Hill, he was regularly established with his troops as a military officer. Such was the marvelous directness with wdiich he always moved. "If a thing is to be done, do it at once," was a favorite remark of his. After the w^ar, he retired to quiet life, ready, however, to come forth, if his country needed him, promptly, as had always been his habit. In 1790, he died. And his death the country mourned. Hardly greater tribute was paid to Washington himself, than to this brave man, Israel Putnam. 264 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. The funeral eulogy, pronounced iit his grave by Dr. Waldo, expresses well the profound love and respect with which, he was held in those days : " Those venerable relics ! once delighted in the endearing domestic virtues, which constitute the excellent neighbor — hus- band — parent — and worthy brother ! liberal and substantial in his friendship ; — unsuspicious — open — and generous ; — just and sincere in dealing; a benevolent citizen of the world — he concentrated in his bosom, the noble qualities of an honest man. "Born a hero — whom nature taught and cherished in the lap of innumerable toils and dangers, he was terrible in battle ! But, from the amiableness of his heart — when carnage cased, his humanity spread over the fields like the refreshing zephyrs of a summer's evening! — The prisoner — the wounded — the sick — the forlorn — experienced the delicate sympathy of this soldier's pillow — the poor, and the needy, of every descrip- tion, received tlie cliaritable bounties of this Ciikistian soldier. " He pitied littleness — loved goodness — admired greatness? and ever aspired to its glorious sununit ! The friend, the servant, and almost unparalleled lover of his country ; — worn with honor- able age, and the former toils of tear — Putnam ! ' Rests from his labors.' " " Till mouldering worlds and tumbling systems burst! When the last trump shall renovate his dust — Still ])y the mandate of eternal truth, His soul will flourish in immortal youth! " "This all who knew him, know; — this all who loved him, tell." STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 265 IPSWICH. Not a prettier village in all Massachusetts, I am sure. To ride into Ipswich in the summer time from the South Side, up the beautiful streets with the over-arching trees, past the green, past the church, over the river into "the town," — no visitor but will be charmed with the quiet old place. And into the town means into a little valley, on one side of which are very ordinary looking buildings, leading up an ordinary looking street to an ordinary looking depot. But on the other hill-side is the beautiful " church green," and beyond it, high up, shining through the trees, the little church itself. And there are legends about this church, ever and ever so many legends. And real witchy ones too. Do you see that great rock in front of the church on the green ? A^^ell, there is upon that rock, (and every inhabitant old and young will tell you the same story, therefore it must be true), a foot-print, — a large foot-print — just as plain as — as — well, as any foot-print hundreds of years old could be. There are the heel and the ball very plain ; and the toe^, there can be no doubt, were plain once ; l)ut the 266 STOKIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. rock is weather-worn- now, so you are forced to imagine the rest. But the way the foot-print came there is the strangest part of the story. There was, away back in the colonial times, a very stirring sort of a minister by the name of Whitetield — George Whitefield. He made a o:reat name for himself in Enofland, and then when he was "called " to Boston, you may be sure he was received with public demonstration. Indeed, some say he was met at the wharf l)y the son of the very governor himself, by a train of clergy and by all the wealthy inhal)itants. And when he attempted to preach, great throngs of people crowded close to hear him — or rather, perhaps I should say, to see him, for his voice and manner were such that one could hear him rods and rods away. Why, at one time, when he was to preach in the Old South, the church, the doorway, the side-walk, even the street were so packed with people, that he himself was obliged to go around to the back of the building and climb through a window, and so let himself into the chancel. Whitefield traveled from town to town and from village to village, preaching in his wonderful way. And now you will understand the story of the great foot-print on the rock in the church green at Ipswich. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 267 Whitefield came there to preach. His Satanic Majesty, determined not to be driven from this church, seated himself astride the ridge-pole and folded tight his arms, as if to say, "1 move not." Yon have heard of people saying, ''There was noise enough to raise the roof." Now Whitefield was a mighty preacher. And it is sup- posed — though, of course, even Ipswich inhabitants, at this late day, could not ])e quite sure — that the roof was raised on this occasion, else why should His Satanic Majesty have leaped with a howl of terror from that church and have landed upon this rock on the green with such force as to leave the imprint of his foot upon it ? But let us leave the church green now and come up on that high ridge of land. Do you see the old burial- ground off to the left? That is a very old burial-ground, and there are some noted people buried there. But let us go up higher, to the very top of the lono- ridge. There is a surprise awaiting you. The ocean ! Indeed, shut in' by this ridge of high land, one forgets in the town that Ipswich is so close upon the coast. But there lies the great ocean before us. There, away off to the left, are the Isles of Shoals; there to the right, the "revolvino; liofht." But almost more beautiful still are these fields just 268 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 269 here at our feet. See that little path leading in there across the brook, under those dense trees. If you should follow it you would come out into a beautiful open place, where most beautiful pedate violets grow. And in the very midst stands a group of trees, and among them a grand old mountain ash. Visitors to the town are always taken here to see this little spot of ]:)eauty, hemmed in on every side by beautiful trees and sloping fields. "Over the hills," the people call it ; and some way, standing there in all its quiet and beauty, it seems, indeed, an " Over the Hills." And do 3^ou see that great patch of white away to the left? That is The Sands. It is believed to be the site of the original settlement of the Agawam Indians. A few years ago, before it became the fashion to search for them, hundreds of arrow-heads were found in the sands. Ipswich has more than its share of "historical houses." There is an old Winthrop House outside the town ; and in the town, on High Street, are great mansion houses, the timber for which Avas brought from England. At the South Side is the old Caldwell House, which has a Revolutionary story attached to it, and has had Revolu- tionary bullets in its sides, as Avell. There is the old Perkins House, more than two 270 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. hundred years old. There is a story told of one of the very early Perkins' ancestors, that at one time he saved the town by running all the way from the shore to warn the people of the approach of hostile Indians. And they do say — though I have heard it claimed by other coast towns, too, — that in Ipswich was the first out-and-out rebellion against a " tax on tea." The old name for this town was Agawam, and it seems to me it is rather a matter of regret that that name was ever changed. But Ipswich is one of the legendary towns of New England. Some people, who like to slur at conservative towns, say of this town and its near neighbor, Newbury- port, that there is far too much in both of the spirit of " worship of ancestors." Perhaps ; but people Avho have no ancestors are apt to say such things, you know. One other point of interest — " Heart-Break Hill " — we must not forget to mention ; for there is a wonderful legend about an Indian maiden who spent long days and nights there watching for her lover, a ])rave young sailor, who had sailed away one sunny morning, comforting her with the assurance of his faithfulness and his s})eedy return. So this poor dusk Ariadne kept Her watch from the hill-top rugged and steep ; STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 271 Slowly the empty moments crept While she studied the changing face of the deep, Fastening her eyes upon every speck That crossed the ocean within her ken ; Might not her lover be walking the deck. Surely and swiftly returning again? ********* What was it to her though the Dawn should paint With delicate beauty skies and seas? But the sweet, sad sunset splendors faint Made her soul sick with memories. ********* Like a slender statue carved of stone She sat, with hardly motion or breath ; She wept no tears, and she made no moan. But her love was stronger than life or death. He never came back ! Yet faithful still She watched from the hill-top her life away. And the townsfolk christened it Heartbreak Hill, And it bears the name to this very day. — Celia Thaxteb. 272 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. RIVERS OF MASSACHUSETTS. One of the reasons why Massachusetts is so beautiful a State to travel through, i>^, ])ecause here, there and every- where are windinof rivers, iilistenino^ in the sunliofht, or fair, still lakes hidden in the valleys, or merry little ])rooks singing along l)y the road-side and through the meadows, or tuml)linuilt, schools were organized, houses multiplied, and Lynn became a manufacturing city, noted, so the geographies say, "for its manufacture of boots and shoes, its fine harbor, and its commei'cial interests." 296 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. LOWELL, THE CITY OF MAGIC. Once upon a time, infarEastern lands, Aladdin built a palace all in a night by the aid of a genie, whom he sum- moned by rubbing a wonderful lamp. The lamp was the Sfift of a i^reat ma2:ician ; the ojenie was the slave of the lamp ; and the palace was the most complete and beautiful building you ever dreamed of. So richly and artistically had the work been done, that in the morning, when it was noticed that one small space had been left unfinished, the king of the country could not find irems in his treasure house suflScient either in numbers or in beauty to complete it. Do you think such things never happen now-a-days? Ah, but they do. Read carefully and see if I do not tell you the truth. Once upon a time, then, not seventy years ago, several very wise men, who had built a mill upon the banks of the Charles River, decided that there would not ])e sufficient water power there for all the manufactories they meant to have. So they thought and thought, and wondered where they had better go to find the sort of place they needed. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 297 It had already been suggested that they should secure the privilege of using a large canal at Pawtucket Falls, near Chelmsford. This canal extended from a })oint just above the Falls to the Concord River, near where it joined the Merrimac. Those who built it never intended it for manufacturing purposes ; their only idea was to make it possible for boats to pass around the Falls, and the large rafts of logs which were floated down the river every spring. Among the manufacturers wdio had heard of the canal, was a man who might truly be called another Aladdin, — a real modern one, too, possessed of a wonderful lamp, by means of wdiich he had at his beck and call not one slave, but very many. That lamp was his brain, and the little, every day rubbing of events and circumstances kept it busily at work making all sorts of useful plans, and show- ing its master how they could be carried out. Though many w^ent to look at the canal to see if it would answer the purpose, our modern Aladdin was the only one to see how much better it w^ould be if they could gain control, not only of this water power, but of the river itself. So he quietly went to work and at his own risk bought the necessary land on both sides ot* the Merrimac, wisely 298 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. keeping his plan to himself; for if the farmers had known of it they would have asked exorbitant prices for all the acres they had to sell. The property thus purchased was afterwards extensively added to, and upon it was built the first mill on the river. When, in September 1823, the mill was finished, water was allowed to flow in, and the wheels were started; they went merrily round and round, as if to show that they, at least, were all ready for business. So were the owners ; and everyone went so heartily to work, that in this mill, which Aladdin's foresight had provided for, cloth was made and sold that same fall ; in fact, within less than two months. This was only the beginning of all the spinning and weaving by machinery which was to follow, and which has made Lowell what it is to-day. Now, there are ten millions of dollars invested in the manufacture of cotton into cloth, canvas and thread. Other Aladdins have used their lami)s to good pur- poses, as the result shows. One of them, Benjamin Shaw, came very near losing the credit and benefit of an invention, which his wisdom and genius had perfected. He had made a loom for manufac- STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 299 taring stockings, and, in order to call the attention of the public to it, had placed one on exhi])ition. Some scamp of an Englishman, for every nation has its scamps, thought to duplicate the loom in his own country, and patent it as if the invention had been his own. So when Mr. Shaw tried to secure his rights in England, he found much difficulty in doing so. Finally, the Lord Chancellor consented to the exhi- bition of the loom in his chambers at the Palace in Westminster, in order to compare it with the odds and ends and unorganized portions the opposing party had sent for inspection, in endeavoring to make good his claim. Their small size probably misled his lordship, as to the necessary weight and dimensions of such machinery. Now, the Shaw loom weighed about eight hundred pounds and occupied a floor space of several feet, and, as you can imagine, it was a very queer looking object to be carried into the palace and pushed and pulled up the famous "Peer's Staircase." When the men had managed to lift it almost to the top, wdio should come along but a rather important looking, and a very important feeling individual, called the chamberlain? "Stop right there!" he shouted, "What are you 300 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. doing? You will spoil the whole building. Who are you, anyway? Mr. Shaw tried to explain matters, but without any success, for the poor chamberlain was too horrified to listen. It was finally decided that the loom should remain upon the stairs until the Lord Chancellor had looked at it, which he very graciously condescended to do without the usual formalities. He brought with him very many learned chancellors and solicitors in gowns and wigs, and they all looked very wise and kept very still, while Mr. Shaw showed them what Yankee wit and ingenuity had accomplished. The result was, that a patent was granted, which protected Mr. Shaw's rights in England so satisfactorily that he was afterwards enabled to dispose of them very advantageously to a company of British manufacturers. To just such enterprise and ability shown in this and in other directions, is due that marvellously rapid development, which has changed a little agricultural village into an important centre of industry. Not like the growth of cities in other lands, reaching slowly the foremost rank of superiority in manufactures. Ah, no ; rather like Alad- din's palace, not indeed completed in a night, but in years STOKIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 301 SO quickly numbered that we may well call Lowell the City of Magic. Thousands of men, women and children call this place their home ; and thousands of them contribute their time and labor to the making of fabrics of use and beauty, to be sent to other lands, as well as to all parts of our own country. How many of the workers of to-day shall prove the Aladdins of to-morrow — possessors of gifts from a Great Magician, which shall work more wonders than did the storied lamps of old ? Even now, the brain of the city is extending its enter- prises in all directions, so that the products of its looms are attaining an enviable reputation. Think what will be accomplished before Lowell cele- brates its first centennial ! 302 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. WORCESTER, THE HEART OF THE COMMONWEALTH. If I were to write a story about Boston and call that conservative old city the head of the commonwealth, I should not be very far wrong ; so now if I tell you al)out Worcester, and speak of its busy centre as the heart of the commonwealth, I shall be very nearly right, for, at onetime, at least, this shire town of the county which bears the same name was very nearly midway between the eastern and western border of our State. The western border then meant practically the Con- necticut river, for you will remember how the wars with the French and Indians made it more than dangerous, in fact almost impossible, for the settlers to make their homes any further west. The old trail which the pioneers followed led them through the centre of the State, and as after the first few years there was a good deal of traveling to and fro, some convenient stopping place, half way on the journey, came to be almost a necessity. This must have been the case ; otherwise the colonists would never have been so persevering in their attempts to build a town where the city now stands. Nobody seems to know whether there was anyone to say to them, "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again." STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 303 Perhaps they knew enough to try again without being told. Probably they did, for, although the Indians literally made it too hot for them by burning their houses, the colonists made a second attempt six years later and succeeded in building quite a little village, which they called Worcester. But before long the Indians became so hostile that, in 1702, all the settlers left the place except one obstinate man, who said he wouldn't run and he would stay. So he did stay, sure enough, for almost before he knew it a red skin took his scalp and went off with it, doubtless thinking what fools some white people are. After a dozen years had passed, colonists came once more to Worcester, and this time the settlement proved permanent ; for the men were young, and brave, and adventurous, and then, too, peace had been declared and the worst of the troubles with the Indians were over. Until the Revolution the little town grew but slowly. When it w^as as many as forty years old most of the houses were only log cabins, one story high ; some with windows of glass, but many with simply oiled paper. Among the people were several Scotch and Irish emigrants who were skilled mechanics, and for this reason valual)le members of the little community. As their man- ner of worship differed from that of the Puritans, they 304 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. decided to have a church of their own ; l)ut when they attempted to build a meeting-house, the people, gathering together, tore the frame-work down. Just think what a silly piece of work that was ; for of course those who were interested in the new church, were justly indignant, and resented the interference with their plans by leaving the town altogether. So the Puritans lost the help of some very hand}^ workmen, just when they needed their practical knowledge the most. Of course nothing of that kind could happen now-a- days ; we have all grown so liberal and so willing for other people to differ from us if they want to. In 1731 Worcester County was incorporated, and because of its central location Worcester was made the county seat. County buildings were erected and the little town became more important than ever. Indeed l)y this time it was quite a large town. Old-fashioned coaches rumbled through its streets on their way to Springfield, Hartford, New York, Boston and Providence ; taverns were built to accommodate the travelers, who were often glad enough to stop over a night and rest their weary bodies, tired out Avith much jolting over rough roads. But, best of all, the country folk came from all the smaller villages round about to do their trading ; and if they STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 305 carried away flour and molasses, and calico and hardware, they first left behind them eggs and butter and cheese, and all sorts of good things brought in from their gardens and fields. From the very first Worcester seems to have been particularly interested in two directions, — the one spiritual, the other temporal. The Puritans had a Meeting-House all to themselves, and we have seen what a time they made about letting any one else enjoy the same privilege. Before the Revolution they built quite a fine church which was called the Old South. On the top of its spire, then or afterwards, was placed a rooster, a very lively- looking bird which kept its high perch until a few years ago when the old church was torn down. If that rooster could only have spoken what stories it could have told ! The best of them would surely have been the news it heard announced from the church porch one memorable summer's day, when Isaiah Thomas read to the listening people the Declaration of Independence ; that being the first time that document was made public in Massachu- setts. In this connection, at least, the Old South Church will always be rememl)ered. For many years it was the only meeting-house in the town, but when the people commenced 30G STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. to build more churches it seemed as if they would never stop. To-day we might almost call Worcester a city of churches, for there are more than sixty in all, representing almost every denomination you ever heard of. The other direction in which the town showed a great and growing interest was in its manufactures. These really commenced at the close of the Revolution, and after the first railway was completed it was astonishing how rapidly they developed. At the present day their name is legion, and millions and millions of dollars are invested in them. One of the largest industries is the making of looms for weaving carpets and all kinds of fancy woolen and cotton goods. It is said that there is no other place in the world where a greater variety of looms is constructed. Then there are the wire works, where the wire for some of the very first telegraph lines in this country was made, and where miles of metal fencing, weighing hundreds of tons, are manufactured every year. This fencing is used, not only in the East, but also very extensively in the West, where the farmers have so many acres under cultivation that they are glad enough to have some comparatively easy way of enclosino" them. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 307 I have told you that the increase of manufactures was largely dependent upon the railroads ; for after iron horses were made to travel between Boston and Worcester, all sorts of freight could be carried back and forth, and before many years could be shipped north, south, east and west. Like the veins and arteries which carry blood to and from the great centre of circulation, so AYorcester, the heart of the Commonwealth, has its o-reat veins and arteries of commerce, in the shape of its many railroads, which afford swift and easy means of communication with other sections of the country. Every week day over ninety trains arrive and depart, and more than ten thousand passengers come and go with no confusion and but little noise. All this traffic by rail adds to the prosperity of the city ; and when, beside, its other sources of wealth, we remember its fine schools and university, we shall see how well fitted Worcester is to keep the reputation it has gained, and to make for itself a still more prominent place among the leading cities of Massachusetts. 308 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. SPRINGFIELD AND THE UNITED STATES ARMORY. Of all the many towns bordering the banks of the Connecticut river, Springfield is the most important, and I had almost said the most beautiful, but that would not do at all, for the scenery all through this fertile valley is so lovely that we might go from one village to another, think- ing each more charming than the last. Very many years ago Mother Nature saw what possi- bilities of beauty lay hidden in the land near the riverside, and as soon as the long winter time, known as the glacial period, had passed, the good lady went busily to work. In place of the immense sheets of ice which had covered the hillsides, she planted forests of noble trees, and carpeted the unlovely valleys with luxuriant grasses and nodding flowers, till all the sheltered meadows grew as gay and lovely as fairyland. After hundreds of years had passed, the red men came to enjoy her handiwork, and because of their glowing accounts, some of the early settlers decided to make their homes in this section of the country, which is now known as Springfield. Here, only five years after the settlement of Boston STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 309 the little village had its beginning. For the most part the Indians were friendly ; and, owing to the richness of the soil, abundant harvests made glad the hearts of the workers and oftered inducements for others to join them. Slowly but steadily their numbers increased, and the only serious hindrance to the prosperity of the town occurred in 1675, when hostile Indians, followers of Philip, chief of the Wampanoags, burned thirty-two houses and twenty-five barns. As this happened just as winter was approaching, the inhabitants were quite discouraged, and, indeed, came very near making new homes elsewhere ; but fortunately this plan was abandoned. A hundred years later, at the commencement of the Revolution, Springfield was a very busy place indeed. Powder and bullets and other military supplies for the Colonial forces were stored here, and workshops were built, in which the fire-arms were repaired. When General Washington visited the town in 1789, he saw the site which was afterwards selected for a national armory, and doubtless thought how suitable it would prove for such a purpose. Perhaps he suggested the plan which was adopted five years later, when, by act of Congress, the establishment of an arsenal was provided for. 310 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. In 1795 the manufacture of small-arms was fairly com- menced, about forty men being employed. That first year they made two hundred and forty-five muskets, and very queer, old-fashioned guns they were, too, compared to the ingeniously constructed "breech-loaders" of to-day. During the next five years the United States was at peace, and more muskets were made than could be used by the government ; so some of them were sold to the Indians. But before long the red men wanted larger guns, and sent word, " Small gun no good ; big gun, big noise, big bullet ; no boy's gun for Indian." So the big guns, the King's and the Queen's Arm, were manufactured and became very popular, numbers of them being scattered through the States, and often auctioned off in large or small lots to eager buyers, to be sold again at a good profit. The first American gun was superior to any patterned after foreign models ; and since the great improvements which have been made during the past few years, our neigh- bors across the water have paid us the high compliment of copying our designs. Nearly all the buildings connected with the armory stand in the spacious grounds, comprising some fifty-seven acres, purchased by the government for this purpose. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 311 Upon the top of the muin arsenal is a tower, and on a clear day one may obtain from it a fine view of the city, and may look l)eyond in all directions, — southward across the meadows and the woodland to the winding river ; and westward from fertile fields and nestling villages to the distant beauty of the Berkshire Hills. Within the arsenal itself are stacks upon stacks of arms, like regiments of infantry all ready to march. What an array they would make ! Fancy three hundred thousand of them marching down the street ! If such a thing were possible you might then perhaps realize how wonderful it is that so large a number can be stored in one building. During the last year ot the Rebellion, there was a time when one thousand guns were made every day, which of course meant that a very large force of skilled workmen must be employed. At the close of the war very many of them built homes for themselves near where their work had been, and this tended to increase the prosperity of all by furthering a constant growth and development. Since then the future of this leading city of our Commonwealth has been assured, and every year makes a steady advance in all directions. 312 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. MOUNTAINS OF MASSACHUSETTS. In the western part of the State are the beautiful Berk- shire Hills. They are a continuation of the Green Moun- tain range and have all the restful beauty of those moun- tains of Vermont. I am always glad, in the hurry and bustle of our Eastern cities and towns, to think of these beautiful hills in the western part of our State, standing there so beautiful and grand and still. Then, farther toward the middle part of the State are the single peaks, Mt. Tom, Mt. Holyoke, Mt. Wachusett. I wonder if there is anything in all nature so beautiful as a mountain. It is so brave and strong ; it towers so into the air above us ; it stands out so grandly against the sky. And then the view from the top ! The villages in the valley below ! The broad, green fields, and the rivers winding like silver ribbons among the trees and across the plains ! The two mountains, Mt. Tom and Mt. Holyoke, are not very high mountains. Their summits are not snow- topped, neither are their uplifted heads hidden among the clouds ; but they are such beautiful mountains ! I remember so well a visit to these mountains not STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 313 many summers ago. Alighting at the odd little Mt. Tom station, we were told by the little wagon-driver, odder still than the station, "Now you can go up the Mt. Tom car- riage-road with me to Mt. Tom Hotel, or I can have you rowed across the river to the foot o' Mt. Holyoke ; then, somebody'll take you up in a basket to that hotel." Being carried up in a basket to a hotel sounded so very suggestive of produce carrying, our party decided to take the carriage- road for their first venture. We were not disappointed in the beauty, nor did we ever regret our choice. O, such a beautiful carriage-road ! As we passed into the deep shade of the sweet pines, a hush seemed to fall upon us. The very wheels of the heavy wagon grew quiet as they rolled along in the soft red soil of the mountain side. The road wound round and round, bending now to the right, now to the left, each bend revealing some new and beautiful view, some new, sweet spot of shady woodland. At last the " Eyrie House " was reached. We were glad to see it — but the ride had been so wonderfully sweet — not majestic to tire one with a sense of awe, not danger- ously steep to pique one with a little sense of fear ; but just sweet and restful, ofiering quiet welcome at every new and gentle winding. 314 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. But the view from the top was beautiful, too. The pretty villages and towns lying so peacefully at its base ; the shining Connecticut winding here and there, forming "the yoke," which is so beautiful to look down upon, then gliding away until lost in the busy little town below. Mt. Holyoke, too, is beautiful — just as beautiful in its scenery and in its views as Mt. Tom. But " the carriage- road " of Mt. Tom — one never forgets that ! The novelty of being lifted higher and higher in the basket-car at Mt. Holyoke never compensates for the loss of the "carnage road of Mt. Tom." I stood upon the hills, where heaven's wide arch Was glorious with the sun's returning march, And woods were brightened, and soft gales Went forth to kiss the sun-clad vales. ******** If thou art worn and hard beset With sorrows, that thou wouldst forget. If thou wouldst read a lesson that will keep Thy heart from fainting, and thy soul from sleep. Go to the woods and hills ! No tears Dim the sweet look that Nature wears. •Longfellow. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 315 THE HOOSAC TUNNEL. In the north-western part of Massachusetts, where the mountains try to stop one from going farther, there is a great hole cut through them, called the Hoosac Tunnel. It is probably the largest hole you ever saw ; not that it is so very wide, for its width is only twenty-six feet, nor so very high, for its height is nearly four feet less, but that it is so very long. When we speak of its length we must leave feet for miles ; for if you go west by the Fitchburg railroad you will be four miles and three-quarters further on your journey when you leave the tunnel than you were when you entered it. The tunnel is so often spoken of and is so well known, that the railroad line running through it is very frequently spoken of as the Hoosac Tunnel Route. Why should everyone take so much interest in a hole, even a big hole, through the mountains? It certainly isn't because of its beauty, for though the approach to the tunnel on either side is through a country unsurpassed in scenery by anything at least in other portions of Massachusetts , the tunnel itself impresses one as being a rather damp and dis- agreeable place, and dark, too, notwithstanding the twelve 316 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. hundred or more electric lights which make it possible for trains to be run in safety. I think the reason why everybody knows about and is in- terested in the Hoosac Tunnel, is first because of its utility, and secondly because it is really so great a triumph of en- gineering skill. Before the tunnel was completed there were no direct means of communication with the West. The mountains were in the Avay ; and to go around or over them, or to take some other circuitous route meant a decided loss of time and money. Massachusetts is a great manufacturing State and its cities and towns are thriving business centres ; and, above all, the people are so wide-awake that they quickly realize the necessity of having the best possible facilities to further their trade with the rest of the country, especially so im- portant a section as the West. What is true to-day was true as early as 182G, when the first propostion was made for a tunnel through the Hoosac mountain. In 1855 the work was commenced, but the first at- tempts seem to have been made in a rather half-hearted way ; for the greatness of the undertakinsf was discourafi^ins^, and then, too, it Avas still an open question who should assume STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 317 the responsibility and raise funds sufficient to carry out the plans. Between this year and 1862 several railroads were in- corporated and were to have received very substantial aid from the State, but the good people in the towns and vil- lages along the line could not be induced to subscribe very largely for the stock that was offered, and so the A'arious companies, one after another, failed to meet the conditions they had agreed upon with the State, which required them to raise a good round sum of money to begin with. The result was that, althouo^h the towns ofave a o^reat many thousands of dollars and the Commonwealth seconded their efforts, the work went on but slowly and sometimes not at all, and I don't know that it would ever have been fin- ished if, in 1862, the State had not assumed the whole con- trol and begun to push the work forward in good earnest. When the State has a piece of work to be done, it lets it out to contractors, and they are always eager to secure it because the money is pretty sure to be forthcoming. In this case it took quite a fortune. You and I cannot realize how so many dollars would look. Did I tell you how many? Well, more than eight millions and a half were spent from first to last in the making of the Hoosac Tun- nel ; and notwithstanding this great outlay and the use of 318 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. powerful drills and other machinery adapted to the work, and the employment of large gangs of men, the tunnel was not completed until 1875 — twenty years after its com- mencement. It was not merely that cuttings had to be made from both the eastern and western sides of the mountain. In fact, the first part of the work was that of sinking a shaft from the summit to the proposed centre of the tunnel, and this was naturally called the central shaft, and hy means of it a very perfect system of ventilation was secured. When we remember the oreat labor of drillino^ so far through the solid rock, and all the obstacles that had to be overcome, is it not interesting to know how nearly the right direction was kept by the workmen on either side. For we are told that the two headings, as they were called, finally met ; so perfectly had the work l)een done that the variation between them on the ground plan was less than an inch. On April 5, 1875, the first freight train, consisting of twenty-two carloads of grain, passed through the tunnel ; and only a few months later, in October, a passenger train was sent by that line from Boston to Troy. The advantage of this new means of communication with the West was speedily felt, and even those who had the most faith in the extension of business that would result STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 319 could hardly have foreseen to what an extent oar Common- wealth w^ould be enriched. Every year brings more of the products of the AVestern States to us, and sees our manufacturers in return filling large orders for their goods ; and, whether for business or pleasure, a constantly increasing number of people, traveling east or west, avail themselves of the direct route through the mountains which the Hoosac Tunnel secures to them. 320 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. FORT MASSACHUSETTS. Have any of you ever been down the harbor? Of course I mean Boston Harbor. If you have, perhaps you have noticed the forts that guard it : Forts Independence, and Winthrop, and Warren. If you could go over them you would get a very good idea of what a modern fort is like, and perhaps you would think Massachusetts always built her forts just that way. But in the old Colonial days, when men, and women and children, too, had much to fear from both the French and the Indians, forts were built on quite a different plan, and proved fully as useful as those we have been speaking of. Now, it would seem as if the English and the French might have been glad to join in friendly efforts to settle this new country, and make for themselves peaceful homes and prosperous villages in what had been an unknown wilder- ness. But the French were not contented with the land they held in Canada and elsewhere, and so made Avar upon the English colonists, hoping to drive them from America and establish in their place their own colonial empire. And although there is a saying that all is fair in war, it STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 321 certainly was not fair and right for the French, in order to accomplish this, to furnish the Indians with guns and ammunition and urge them to go on the war-path and attack the English settlers. At the same time, they promised them bounties for the scalps of defenceless women and children as well as men, and in France the records are still kept of how this blood-money was really paid. Ever since 1703, the colonists in the northern part of Massachusetts had suffered more or less from this warfare, and when in 1743 rumors of a new war reached them, they well understood all the horrors that were in store for them. In the north-western part of the State they were especially exposed, for the Indians, who liked so well to travel by water in their canoes, could come down that great water highway formed by the River St. Lawrence and Lake Champlain, and continue south until nearly opposite the valley of the Hoosac. Leaving their canoes at this point, and following the well-known trails through the forests, they could speedily reach the unprotected villages widely scattered through the fertile valleys. So, early in 1744, the General Court ordered several forts to be built, and among them Fort Massachusetts. Forts in those days were of two kinds, — those built by the settlers with very little help from the authorities and 322 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. kept largely under their own control, and those erected and garrisoned by the province. It is said that Fort Massachu- setts was the only province fort in Berkshire during the war of 1744, — called the Third Intercolonial, to distinguish it from other wars. With the exception of one or two forts on the sea-board, it was the most noted and important of any in the province. It stood on a spot which is now a beautiful meadow, on the south side of the road from North Adams to Williamstown, and about four miles east of the latter village . We can imagine how like beavers the men worked, driving firmly into the ground the hewn logs which formed the stockade surrounding the barracks, for they well knew to what an extent their own lives and those of the women and children depended on the character of the defences. In the north-west corner at least, if not in the others, was piled a mound of earth u[)()n which sharp-shooters and sentinels could be posted ; for constant watchfulness was necessary to prevent surprises. When the fort was finished. Captain Ephraim AVilliams was placed in command ; and not only of that fort, but also of eleven other posts forming a most important line of defence, though scattered over a a\ ide extent of territory very imperfectly supplied Avith roads. We shall want to STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 323 know something about Captain Williams, not only because he was a Massachusetts boy and a Imive soldier, but l^ecause he gave his name to Williams town, and by his will left money to establish a free school, the beginning of what is now Williams College. It is just a century since the old West College was first opened to those who could " read English well," and though one must know a great deal more than that to enter Williams now, I doubt ifany of the present two hundred students are more anxious to learn and improve themselves, than the boys who first went there a hundred years ago. Of course Captain Williams could not know what a great success his plan was going to be, and indeed he was so busy going from one fort to another, and sending scouts in every direction that he did not even write it down in the form of a will until a brief interval of peace gave him an opportunity to attend to his own affairs. But before peace came there were many skirmishes with the Indians, and many lives lost on both sides. In 1746, a party of French and Indians attacked Fort Massa- chusetts and, overcoming the small garrison stationed there, completely destroyed the fort and carried oft' all the stores they could find and the prisoners they had taken. But the colonists were not easily discouraged ; so when the General 324 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. Court ordered the fort to be rebuilt in the winter of 1746-7, they took hold of the work with right good will, and built an even better fort, which stood for many years after the war was ended, and which Captain Williams defended with so much skill and bravery that he was raised to the rank of major, and then to that of colonel. In 1755, it became necessary to send an expedition against the French at Crown Point, and our friend the Captain, now Colonel Williams, with a regiment of picked men, joined the Army under General Johnson. A good commander can generally tell which of his officers are most surely to be relied upon. It is said that our greatest soldier. General Grant, was wonderfully keen in his selection of men who could successfully execute his orders. General Johnson must have thought Colonel Williams one of his best officers, for he put him in charge of a large detachment and sent him ahead in search of the enemy. Unfortunately they were surprised by an ambuscade, and at the first volley Colonel Williams fell, shot through the head. Before starting on this, for him, fatal expedition, he had by will secured to the future village of Williamstown the college I have told you about ; and it seems as if he must have found that section of the country where Fort STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 325 Massachusetts stood especially beautiful, or he would not have wished it to bear his name. Near the rock where he fell, three miles from Caldwell, a marble monument stands, placed there by the graduates of Williams College, so that no one may forget the founder ; but on the now peaceful meadow, under the shadow of the hills and not far from that highest peak of all, where the snows of winter first appear and Imger longest, — " Grey- lock, cloud-girdled on his mountain throne," only a single elm tree marks the spot where the early colonists built and defended Fort Massachusetts. 326 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. DESTRUCTION OF DEERFIELD. You will remember what a ruthless and bloody war that w^as which received the name of Queen Anne's ; and how the Indians, urged on hy the French, murdered men, w^omen and children, and kept the settlers in an almost constant state of alarm. One would think that in the exposed towns the colonists would always have been on the lookout for sudden attacks, but the story of Deerfield proves that men may grow^ so used to danger as to neglect to prepare for it. In 1703, the French in Canada planned to lay waste the whole English frontier; fortunately they only partially succeeded, though all the eastern settlements from Casco to Wells were destroyed. At this time, with the excep- tion of a few^ families at Northfield, Deerfield was ftirther north than any of the other towns, and so was particularly liable to be visited by the enemy. In the winter of 1704 the town had been palisaded and some twenty soldiers stationed there, but, strangely enough, they were not gathered together in one place, but were scattered about in different houses. February came and nothing had happened, and I sup- STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 327 pose the people thought that perhaps after all they need not have been so much alarmed. Little did they know that a party of some two hun- dred and fifty French and Indians had already left Mont- real for the valley of the Connecticut, and were traveling swiftly south by the way of Lake Champlain. Leaving the lake and advancing up Onion river, they passed over to the Connecticut, and, following this icy highway, soon reached Deerfield. Their spies were placed as near the town as possible, and cats do not watch for mice more closely than those redskins watched for an opportunity to attack the unsus- pecting settlers. Unfortunately their chance soon came. On that fatal night of the twenty-ninth of February, a watch had been set as usual and had patrolled the streets up to about two hours before daybreak ; then, being tired and cold, and thinking the town safe for that night, they went home and lay down to sleep. All was now quiet, and the Indians advanced softly to the palisades, easily passing them, for the snow^ had drifted high and its hard crust gave good footing to the enemy. Then, dividing into small parties, the Indians with loud whoops rushed to the different houses, and with axes and hatchets broke in the doors and vrindows. 328 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. The surprise was complete. Awakened from their sleep of fancied security, and hastily and imperfectly armed, men and women fought bravely, but the issue of the fio:ht was not doubtful. Before two hours had passed the town was practically destroyed ; forty-seven of its people had been killed and one hundred taken prisoners. After the French and Indians had packed up the pro- visions and everything else of value they could find, they set the houses on fire, and about an hour after sun-rise left the town with their prisoners and passed over the river to the foot of the mountains. Here the captives were deprived of their shoes and given moccasins to wear, in preparation for the journey of three hundred miles that lay before them. Before they got fairly on their way a small party of English came up with them, and a skirmish took place, in which the would-be rescuers were routed without much loss on either side. Then began the hardships of the march to Canada. It was bitterly cold ; many of the prisoners were but half-clad, and the women and little children had not the strength for so toilsome a journey. Fortunately the Indians carried most of the children, probably hoping that STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 329 eventually large sums would be paid for their ransom. But no such help was given the feeble women , and many were killed and scalped by their cruel masters because they were unable to keep up with the party. Among those thus murdered was Mrs. Williams, the wife of Rev. John Williams, the Deerfield minister, who afterwards wrote a most graphic account of the destruction of the town and the captivity of the people. After twenty-live days of great privation and suffering they reached Chambly, and here the survivors were treated with considerable kindness, and in course of time many of them were ransomed. A few preferred to remain in Can- ada ; among them, Eunice Williams, the daughter of the clergyman, who married an Indian and adopted the Indian dress and customs. In 1706 her father and fifty-seven others were sent on from Quebec to Boston, where the people of one of the neighboring towns invited the good minister to become their pastor; but he refused, prefer- ring to return to the scene of his former labors. Here he was frequently visited by his daughter, but no persuasions could induce her to leave the Indians and make her home with him. For more than twenty years after his return, Mr. Williams ministered to the people with whom he had suffered so much. 330 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. The general prosperity of the settlement was largely increased by the addition of new families, and before their pastor died he had the satisfaction of seeing a new Deer- field standing on the very spot where years before the Indians had raided the town and so nearly destroyed it. Here the free spirit of mankind at length Throws its last fetters off ; and who shall place A limit to the giant's unchained strength, Or curb his swiftness in the forward race : Far, like the comet's way through infinite space, Stretches the long, untravelled path of light Into the depths of ages ; we may trace. Distant, the brightening glory of its flight. Till the receding rays are lost to human sight. — Wm. C. Bryant, STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 331 DEERFIELD'S DAUGHTER. Greenfield is Deerfield's daughter, for before its incor- poration in 1753 the land it occupies was set off from the mother town. The best of good feeling has always existed between them, and I think Deerfield must be very proud of this pretty, prosperous little town which once belonged to it, and which came into existence after the worst of the Indian troubles were over. Scattered bands of red-skins were, however, still rov- ing about the country, and, fearing an attack from them, the village worthies, gathered together at town meeting in 1754, voted to picket three houses "in this district forthwith." So the colonists surrounded them with a strong fence of timber set in the ground quite close together, each picket eight or nine feet high and well sharpened at the top. As these houses were the surest defence of the people, the little settlement grew up around them, and although the land near the village was improved, it was not until practically the close of the French and Indian wars that outlying farms began to be occupied. Fortunately there is no story of Indian warfare to be told about Greenfield, so sad and so true as that of the 332 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. destruction of Deerfield. The Indians, however, had not entirely given up their hostile intentions, as was proved by a number of less important skirmishes, and it was still necessary for the men working in the fields to keep their guns close beside them, as the following story shows. Five of the settlers went out one day to work on a farm near the village. They carried their guns as usual, but on reaching the field placed them against a stack of flax, and working busily here and there were soon some distance away. It so happened that a party of Indians lay concealed near by, and of course no redskin on the war path could omit so favorable an opportunity for getting a few scalps. So they stole softly toward the white men, and getting between them and their guns, fired, though fortunately without effect. Deprived of their weapons, the only thing for the settlers to do was to run, and doubtless they stood not upon the order of their going. Two of them, Benjamin Hastings and John Graves, fled across the river and finally reached the Arms Farm. Hastings said that the ferns in the field were as high as his waist, and that he ran over the tops of them. If that was so, we certainly must give him credit for some re- STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 333 markable running. We don't see anything equal to that now-a-clays, do we? But perhaps we should if the really wild Indians had not all gone long ago to the happy hunt- ing-grounds. After the close of the French and Indian wars we may think of the colonists as extending their farms, and building new homes upon them, and working with greater industr}^ and courage now that peace had been declared. But it was not all work and no play ; for, when the long winter evenings came, the men used to gather around the open fire-place in the village tavern and, snugly seated before the glowing logs, discuss the affairs of the town over their pipes and mugs of cider or flip, or tell famous stories of their success with rod or rifle. Here ruled Andrew Denio, landlord of the Greenfield tavern, known throughout the country-side as a man both wise and witty, though possessed of a rather peppery temper. One day a traveler stopped at his house and asked for a "small matter of bread and cheese," which was quickly placed before him. His host looked on as the stranger despatched slice after slice without apparently lessening his appetite. Finally Landlord Denio could keep quiet no longer, and exclaimed: "My good man, if 334 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 335 you will stop now, you are welcome, entirely welcome to what you have eaten ! " But Greenfield boasted of other and better public places than the tavern. There was the school-house, early built l)y the townspeople that the bo3^s and girls might learn reading, writing and arithmetic. They had no com- fortable desks and seats then, but sat on long benches made of slabs, with sticks for legs, and nothing for the children to rest their backs against when they grew tired. They had no black-])oards and ])ut very few text-l^ooks ; and the pupils were not arranged in classes, but one by one the older scholars would rise in their seats and say, "Please, sir, may I read?" Then, if the teacher was ready, he would hear two or three of them read what- ever had been selected. Woe betide the unlucky lad who did not know his lesson or played any pranks in school hours, for the rod was handy, and it was a time-honored custom to use it freely. While the children were in school or about the house, and the men at work in the fields or havins: a social chat at the tavern, the women were just as busily employed with their household duties, making the spinning wheels fly merrily or baking wonderful goodies in the generous brick 336 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. ovens. What famous cooks and housewives our great great grandmothers were, knowing so well how to make the most of the resources they could command, and learn- ing so bravely how to do without many luxuries which to us now-a-days seem necessities ! To the women, quite as much as to the men, was due the fact that after months of hardship, anxiety and toil, success crowned their efforts. What did they consider as "success" in those first years in which Deerfield's daughter existed as an inde- pendent town ? I think you will find that success meant to them the securing of safe and comfortable homes. It was for this purpose that the colonists made their way through the almost trackless wilderness to the beautiful and fertile shores of the Connecticut. It was for this that so many little villages were formed throughout the colony ; villages that afterwards became the towns of our Commonwealth. And it was for the rights of the home-makers that in after years the shot was fired that was heard around the world. When that day came Deerfield's daughter was not found wanting, and I should like to tell you how well she played her part in that mighty struggle. However, we must not begin with revolutionary days now, for we shall STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 337 not know where to stop ; but for the present, I wish you would remember how the people li\ 3d in Greenfield, because life there was so like to what it was at that time in many of the other villages in Massachusetts. 338 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. THE GREAT ELM AT PITTSFIELD. Among the many famous trees of Massachusetts was the great elm on Pittsfield Common. "That is a beautiful elm, so straight, so strong," said the early settlers, as they cleared a place for their little settlement. "We will spare that tree, and it shall stand a land-mark for us." By-and-by a town grew up about this tree. "Let us maken green just here," said the people, "and let it be the centre of our little town, and let this l)eautiful, great elm be our sentinel." "Let us build our church near the elm," said the vil- lagers again, when, by-and-by the village had grown so large, it was necessary to have a place in which to meet for worship. "Our children shall grow to be as straight and true, and strong as the old elm," the mothers would proudly say. " See, I can climb the great elm," said the village boys. "Come, let us play beneath the elm," the girls would say ; " no place so shady as the green beneath the elm." And so, year after year, the tree grew to be more and more to the simple people who loved their little village, and watched so tenderly its growing up. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 339 But there came a time when the quiet people grew ambitious. The little white church with its pretty white spire was not pretentious enough for them. " We want a large church, "said they — ^' a very large church, with towers and chapels and a great belfry." " And the great church must stand here upon the green — in the centre of the town," they added. " But the elm, the elm is in the way, the elm that in the very founding of our village was left standing by our fore- fathers to be a land-mark. " " Cut down the elm. there are trees enough, " growled the citizens, who cared little for tradition, still less for a mere tree. " Cut down the elm. " And so, though it was like cutting into the very hearts of the old men and women who loved the tree and had in their bal^yhood and childhood played ])eneath its great branches, the vote was carried and the tree was doomed. The morninsf came when the workmen were to fell the tree. Axes in hand they stood ready for their work — when lo, so the legend says, the leaves of the tree folded together, drooped, and there went through the boughs a whisper, which only the woodmen heard. There was a hush. And now a woman comes across the green. See, it is the lawyer's beautiful wife, dear old Mother Williams, 340 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. the people call her. '' Brothers," said she, tenderly throw- ing one arm about the dear old tree, "spare the elm to us. We have grown into youth, on into manhood and woman- hood, some of us on into old age, l)eneath this tree. To us it is full of sweet memories. O spare the tree ! " Then the leaves moved again. A sound as of sighing went through the branches. Kind old Mother AY il Hams, so pale, so gentle, so beautiful in her soft, white cap and rich, old laces. How beautiful she looked as she leaned so tenderly against the strong, old tree 1 The workmen looked into each other's faces. They were kind men, and there was in their hearts, rough men as they were, many a kind, tender thought. " We will not harm the tree," said they, and moved away. So the old elm Avas saved. A few days later Lawyer Williams himself came before the people, granting them a gift of land from his own estate — a beautiful, sightly spot, on which to build the new church. And so the elm grew on and on, loved and protected by the people, its pretty little legend cherished as a tender memory. And sad indeed were they when the old tree died. " We miss the tree," s;iid they; "but it lived its own life and we did not harm it." STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 341 THE BALANCED ROCK. Berkshire County ! The Berkshire Hills ! Our Swit- zerland of beauty, our land of lakes and mountains, of flowers and streams and forests ! In the beautiful village of Pittsfield, not far from the little sparkling lake of Pontosuc, stands the '' balanced rock." It is a great block of white marble, tons and tons in weight, and standing just poised on a little rock beneath. One could overturn it with a push of one hand, you would think to see it. But there it is, as firm and strong in its perfect poise, as if its support were miles in breadth. And there is a story about this rock, a pretty little legend. Of course, geologists will smile at this legend ; and it is altogether likely, scientific as they are, that they vill say something about glaciers that some time, in dim ages past, moved down through the Housatonic Valley. But the Indians used to tell a diff'erent story, such a pretty story, and of course, the Indians knew. Their story is this : One day the brave Indian youths were at play, rock pitching. It was a clear, cool day ; the air was fresh and crisp, and the healthy, hearty youths, full of health and strength, were shouting and screaming 342 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. and rLinniiio" ; just as, to-day, you ])oys shout and scream, and run in your game of base-ball. Now, these youths knew nothing of a '■ picked nine ; " and " innings " and " home stretches " were terms all unknown to them. But they could run, and scream, and shout, none the less, in their wild game of rock pitching. It wasn't much of a game, perhaps you who under- stand the mysteries of base-ball v/ill say : for the game AA^as merely this ; a roundish stone was set up on another stone, or, perhaps, upon an old tree trunk ; the youths in turn pitched rocks at this as a target ; each youth could try a certain num])er of times ; and he that sent the round stone toppling from its place to the ground was the hero, and won the game. Not much of a game to l)e sure ; ])ut it didn't take so much to amuse youths then, as now; perhaps because they were less wise, perhaps because they were wdser — who shall say? But you will wonder what all this has to do with the Balanced Rock out in the beautiful town of Pittsiield. Well, once upon a time, so the story goes, the Indian youths were at play, at their favorite game of rock-pitch- ing. Such pride as they did take in their strength ! And what contempt they had for physical weakness ! STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 343 The strongest of the youths had just made a — not a "big catch" exactly, but a "great throw." How the forests echoed with their yells of triumph ! It was the chief's own son that had done this. How proud they were of their chief's strono' son. o Just then, there suddenly appeared in their midst a youth not half as tall as they, yet as old, a little, weak, half-grown, puny, — even a sickly looking lad. "See, see ! " cried the chiefs son, elated with his own victory and proud of his strength. "See, see the papoose come to play at rock throwing ! " "Ha, ha, ha ; Ugh ! ugh ! ugh !" laughed and grunted, in Indian fashion, the youths. "Papoose, papoose come to play with the chief's son ! " The youth did not notice a threatening gleam that came in the stranger's eye. They danced about him, yelled and howled, "Papoose, papoose come and play at rock-pitching ! " But, in a moment, all were still as death. They stood, mouths and eyes wide open — gazing terror stricken. For lo, the papoose l>egan to grow, taller and taller, larger and larger — till the chief's son looked like a mere pigmy by his side. "The papoose vnll play at rock-throwing," thundered 344 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. he; "and he will play with the chief's son, yes, the chief's son, the strongest of all Indian youths. " Then he roared with scorn and laughter till the Indian youths, chief's son and all, quaked with fear. "Throw!" thundered he; and each youth in turn, trembling with fright, tried to throw. Such weak, weak throws. And the chief's son's throw was the weakest of them all. And how the giant roared with laughter. " The papoose will throw. See, now, how the papoose will thrown'' And, with one mighty summoning of all his strength, he dragged out from the earth, where ^ perhaps for centuries it had lain embedded, this great boulder, now called the balanced rock, and tossed it like a mere pebble at the target. It crushed and ground it to powder, as it struck full upon it. For a second it rocked and reeled ; then poising itself, as you see it now, it stood firm and strong, and still stands firm and strong, as any Pittsfield boy or girl can tell you. "The papoose can throw," said the giant, grimly — the Indians were not given to much talking — and then he walked away into the forests. What the Indian youths said among themselves is not recorded. Perhaps they said nothing, and went to their homes to think. STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 345 LAKE ONOTA AND ITS LEGEND. Of the hundred lakes of Berkshire Fairest is the Lake Onota ; Nestled at the feet of mountaius Lies her mirror-like, pure water. Graceful are her shores in outline, As the droop of elm or willow ; Wonderful the bed she lies on ; Green the banks that make her pillow. And she lies there in the sunshine Sighing, lisping, singing, dreaming. All the trees that stand about her, All the hills and mountains, seeming, All the little flowers beside her. Watchfully to guard and love her ; The king-fisher darts beneath her. And the eagle soars above her. Sing a song to please the children, Lake Onota, Lake Onota, Tell some pretty Indian legend With thy softly lisping water. 346 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. The Legend. Long ago, before the white man Set his foot on yonder monntain, Came a snow-white doe to drink here Of my cool, refreshing fountain. Lithe was she as any sapling, Fair and graceful as a lily ; Up the mountain, through the woodland. O'er the pastures, bare and hilly. Swift she wandered ; but no red man Ever turned toward her an arrow : For — so ran the old tradition — That would bring the warrior sorrow. " While she lingers by Onota," Oft I heard the Indians telling, " Peace will tarry with the red man, And no plague come nigh his dwelling. So, for many years in Spring-time, When the bloom was on the cherry And the sweet air all about here With the wild bird's song was merry, STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 347 Came the doe ; and unmolested Dwelt beside my cheering waters ; "We have seen her ! A good omen ! " Cried the Indian sons and daughters. But one sad day, from the Northland, Came Montalbert ; pledged to carry Some rare trophy from the woodland To his monarch ; long they tarry, The white hunter and his servants, They coax Wando into telling, Twixt strong draughts of fire-water. Where the famous deer is dwelling. Gleamed a rifle in the thicket ; Lo ! her deer blood stained my billows — Roared the oaks and pines with anger. Trembled all the elms and willows. Swift they bore her through the forest. While the breeze withheld his flinging Blossoms down upon my surface, And my wavelets ceased their singing. 348 STORIES OF MASSACHUSETTS. ^' All is sorrow, sorrow, sorrow," Sang the wild bird, where she wandered ; " All is sorrow, sorrow, sorrow," Moaned the dark chief as he pondered On the sad things sure to happen With no white deer dwelling near him ; " Curse the pale face ! " cried the warrior, " We will neither spare nor fear him." But the Indians' numbers lessened, And their brave tribe drooped and faded, Till not one was left to wander In the old paths, still and shaded ; Till the white man dwelt beside me, And the white man's pretty daughter Came to play where Indian maidens Once had frolicked by Onota. AMERICAN ^ HISTORY ^ STORIES. By Mara L. Pratt, Author o/" Young FoWs Library of American History," etc. Vols. I., 11., HI., IV. USED IN THE SCHOOLS OF Massachusetts.— Brookline, Meclway, Maiden, Plainfleld, Clinton, Stoughton, Dedham. Connecticut.— New Haven, Hartford, Collinsville, Portland, Meriden, Bridgeport. . *,, x, Pennsylvania.— Harriaburg, Sharon, McKeesport, Allegheny, Mansfield, Pittsburg, etc. "Wisconsin.— Milwaukee, Madison, Broadhead. Ohio.— Springfield, Wooster. Illinois — Rock Island, Moline, Rockford, Peoria. Minnesota.— Minneapolis, St. Paul, Benson. Also in the schools of New York, Boston, Brooklyn, Etc. STORIES OF INDUSTRY. BY A. CHASE AND E. CLOW. Vols. I. and II. Fully Illustrated. Boards. Price, each, 40 cents. " These are in my opinion unsurpassed for the purpose of Supplementary reading and to impart a knowlege of modern mdustries. I have witnessed no effort so successful as this to combine the practice of reading and training in reading witli the getting of useful knowledge. I wish every school in our city was supplied with sets of these books, because they best realize the true aim of the work of Supplementary reading in mtermediate and lower grades." Wm. E. Anderson, Supt, Schools, Milwaukee, Wis.