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At the Squire's 
 
 in Old Salem. 
 
 ^ 
 
 Mary Saltonstall Parker, 
 
 Author of 
 Salem Scrap Book. 
 Rules for Salad, in rhyme. 
 A Baker's Dozen of Charades. 
 
 Salem, Massachusetts, 
 
 MDCCCXCVII. 
 
 •i.\«^'0\^C.y 
 

 Copyright, 1897, by 
 Mary Saltonstall Parker. 
 

 ^^W^^^^^-.,, 
 ii|iiii^~'' ''^"" 
 
 
 At the Squire's 
 
 in Old Salem. 
 
 The Squire's house was built of wood ; 
 
 Like many in those days, it stood 
 
 End on the street. Its front door placed 
 
 Inside a yard, to eastward faced. 
 
 From street to garden, trimly kept, 
 
 The long and narrow mansion crept. 
 
 The parlor always in its best 
 
 Stood, as if waiting for a guest. 
 
 Then hall, and dining room, thence through 
 
 The kitchens, (there were several too) 
 
Succeeding pantries lastly led 
 
 To storerooms and an ample shed. 
 
 Presiding o'er these kitchens' space 
 
 Was one of power ; her thrifty race 
 
 Is almost in these days extinct : 
 
 So faithful, so her care was linked 
 
 With what her mistress should betide, 
 
 Few interests had she outside. 
 
 She her assistant too, could claim, 
 
 Phoebe perhaps, or Ruth by name ; 
 
 Hair meekly pushed behind her ears, 
 
 And boasting, say, a dozen years, 
 
 She oft, "The Little Help," was styled. 
 
 O, serious faced, unchildlike child, 
 
 When, work ''done up," they bade you play, 
 
 I cannot think you knew the way ! 
 
 Although 't would seem she might mayhap 
 
 But fill the tiniest kind of gap. 
 
 In all departments would she reach 
 
 And fit in any yawning breach. 
 
 Breakfast is over, and the Squire 
 Sits with his paper by the fire. 
 He finds it pleasant, conning o'er 
 Its columns thus, the blaze before. 
 No bulky page of morning news 
 Envelops him from eyes to shoes, 
 
Like ours, wherein accounts are stored 
 
 Of what transpires each day abroad ; 
 
 "Last night a bridge gave way in Florence, 
 
 In Cork today it rains in torrents.^'' 
 
 The hour these things take place, we're able 
 
 To know it by Atlantic cable ! 
 
 No, for such news the Squire must wait 
 
 It reached him just a full month late. 
 
 His wants in this respect were met 
 
 Twice every week by the Gazette. 
 
He and his wife would always greet 
 
 With joy that semi-weekly sheet ; 
 
 For often items would there be 
 
 Of interest to Madam T. 
 
 "The Misses Batchelder report 
 
 A fresh invoice of goods just bought. 
 
 Upon their shelves this week are seen 
 
 The choicest grasscloth and nankeen." 
 
 Or from the stock of Francis Choate 
 
 The Squire would new consignments quote. 
 
 "Pink tabby velvet, fine sarsnet 
 
 And many shades of bombazet." 
 
 Should ladies be in need of shoes, 
 
 Here is a chance they must not lose. 
 
 "Prunella shoes, just one more case, 
 
 Charles Brooks at figures low will place." 
 
 As now and then, he reads a bit 
 
 Not idle does his good wife sit. 
 
 The glass and silver she prefers 
 
 No other hand should wash but hers. 
 
 So at the breakfast table's end 
 
 To this detail would she attend. 
 
 To " wipe " the " Little Help " stood by 
 
 Who, when each piece was polished dry, 
 
 The table 'gainst the wall must wheel 
 
 Till wanted for another meal. 
 
 lO 
 
When everything was cleared away 
 
 Good Madam T. began her day. 
 
 Twelve shirts, her skilful fingers sewing 
 
 Were fast to their completion growing. 
 
 The finest linen 'twas her care, 
 
 And nothing less the Squire should wear. 
 
 Sure, patience added to her skill 
 
 The lady needed for that frill, 
 
 Which ruffled down each shirt front flowed, 
 
 And scarce the tiny stitches showed. 
 
Its filmy linen cambric made 
 
 A snowy rippling cascade. 
 
 No modern craft can, I believe, 
 
 So exquisite a texture weave 
 
 As that, on which the edge to hem, 
 
 She picked up threads, and counted them. 
 
 Thus as she worked, her ear would catch 
 Perchance, the lifting of the latch. 
 (They never thought of locked doors keeping, 
 Except at night when all were sleeping.) 
 Some neighbor 't was, who stopped to say, 
 "Good morning" passing on his way. 
 Then others came, without a knock 
 Or ring, and now 'twas twelve o'clock. 
 
 At noon each day when skies were fair 
 
 The Squire's lady took the air. 
 
 A sprightly niece, Miss Nancy G. 
 
 Was living then, with Madam T. 
 
 This maiden's charms of mind and form 
 
 Had taken Salem quite by storm. 
 
 So donning now, her best pelisse 
 
 "Down street" the aunt walked with her niece. 
 
 They would examine for themselves 
 
 Those latest goods upon the shelves. 
 
 Miss Batchelder before their view 
 
 Held up in turn, each fabric new, 
 
 12 
 
And all the while remarks would drop, 
 To her Mamma behind the shop, 
 Discussing in a sort of whine 
 The way in which that day they'd dine. 
 
 /!'.' 
 
 
 "What ! nimblecake" her voice protests 
 "And coffee Ma, to give our guests ! 
 Good apple sauce and roast pork Ma, 
 Nice pretty victuals surely are." 
 
 13 
 
Our ladies' shopping finished, they 
 
 Must hasten home, without delay. 
 
 For, time 'twould be for dinner soon. 
 
 Now later on that afternoon, 
 
 The "Little Help" in cloak and hood, 
 
 And more than ever serious mood. 
 
 Before her mistress, stood to note 
 
 Her words and learn them well by rote. 
 
 Those words portentous, to invite 
 
 Twelve dames to tea next Thursday night. 
 
 "And do you well the message know 
 
 To give to Mrs. 'Thus and So' ?" 
 
 Asked Mrs. T. "Repeat once more 
 
 What you must say at every door." 
 
 The child her lesson knew by heart. 
 
 And gravely thus rehearsed the part. 
 
 "My mistress charged me to convey 
 
 Her kind respects to you today. 
 
 Wishing your presence to bespeak 
 
 At tea with us on this day week. 
 
 And hoping in the evening she 
 
 May also your good husband see." 
 
 " That's right " the lady said ; " Now go 
 
 And hurry back your stent to sew. 
 
 And when your spelling has been learned 
 
 An hour's play you will have earned. 
 
 But dear, about that ' husband ' clause 
 
 14 
 
You must discriminate, because 
 
 (As in the case of good Miss S.) 
 
 Some might not such a thing possess. 
 
 And widows, ghastly would it be 
 
 To ask their husbands after tea !" 
 
 So fared it daily much the same 
 
 With our good friends, till Sunday came. 
 
 Then to the household came a rest. 
 
 With care each member early dressed ; 
 
 And all together walked, to search 
 
 The Scriptures in the Old North Church. 
 
No furnace heated temple that 
 
 In winter, where the faithful sat. 
 
 Severe and plain the structure, whose 
 
 Interior showed square high backed pews. 
 
 One fire did what it could to thaw 
 
 The atmosphere about the door. 
 
 The old and feeble it behove 
 
 To choose their seats quite near the stove ; 
 
 When very low the mercury fell, 
 
 The Squire's party (knowing well 
 
 What comfort lay in good warm feet 
 
 Well toasted underneath the seat) 
 
 Took footstoves with them when they went, 
 
 The church's warmth to supplement. 
 
 " For " said the Squire "with frozen limbs 
 
 No one can properly sing hymns." 
 
 (He always standing in his place, 
 
 To Duke Street roared a sonorous bass) 
 
 Down from the singing seats the choir 
 
 Poured melody with zest and fire. 
 
"This maiden's charms of tnind and/orm 
 Had taken Salem quite by storm." 
 
The " Help " on Sunday evenings sped 
 
 Their work, and went betimes to bed, 
 
 And so stored up their strength to gain 
 
 Fresh impulse for next day's campaign. 
 
 That day which could not be ignored 
 
 Held sacred to the washing board ! 
 
 The festal Thursday dawned ; this date 
 
 Had focussed every thought of late. 
 
 The Squire's household, ere the sun 
 
 Was up, their breakfast had begun. 
 
 The parlor by a vigorous broom 
 
 Invaded was ; to warm the room 
 
 A pile of giant logs all day 
 
 Upon its hearth must blaze away. 
 
 Miss Nancy said she'd undertake 
 
 To make her specialty, a cake 
 
 Whose rich ingredients mixed by pounds 
 
 Were moulded into " Hearts and Rounds." 
 
 So work went forward till four o'clock, 
 
 Then Aunt and Niece in festive frock, 
 
 Hands folded, sat them down in state 
 
 The first arrival to await. 
 
 They had not very long to sit, 
 
 Ere swung the portal to admit 
 
 Guest number one, who broke the ice, 
 
 The others following in a trice ; 
 
 i8 
 
By pairs and singly in they trouped 
 Till all about the fire were grouped. 
 Their gowns were for the most part made 
 Of sombre hued and rich brocade, 
 And each one carried as a rule 
 Some kind of bag or reticule, 
 For even when on pleasure bent 
 They liked their time to be well spent, 
 And took with industry befitting, 
 Some dainty needle work or knitting. 
 
 For tales the ladies' memories taxed 
 The conversation merry waxed. 
 (Among them all Miss Nancy G. 
 Was held a queen for repartee.) 
 Jest followed jest, and often it 
 Was really scintillating wit. 
 At half past five a gentle knock 
 Broke in upon the general talk. 
 Good Madam T. rose to her feet 
 And every guest too left her seat. 
 Moving together two and two 
 They passed in file the entry through. 
 Anticipation of the spread 
 Could in each countenance be read. 
 First, Madam T. must distribute 
 The revellers her mind to suit. 
 
 ^9 
 
Who then were bid, themselves to wedge 
 About the groaning table's edge ; 
 They seated finally, again 
 To their suspended tongues gave rein. 
 The " Little Help " decked in her best, 
 And all excitement (though suppressed,) 
 Her long sleeved apron newly starched 
 With prim step round the table marched. 
 That table ! pausing I imbibe 
 
 Fresh inspiration to describe 
 Its beauty, and its toothsome freight ; 
 Mere words seem so inadequate ! 
 Two urns the tea and coffee poured. 
 The short cake crisp (baked on a board) 
 Was brought in fresh and passed about 
 As oft as the supply gave out. 
 And biscuits here, and flapjacks vied 
 With waffles on the other side. 
 O, how the scorched salt fish was relished ! 
 Great bowls of quince the board embellished. 
 And from their depths with generous dips 
 The guests were served and smacked their lips. 
 The dainties thickly clustering drew 
 Warm praises from the feasting crew. 
 Who asked the hostess " Pray would she 
 Bestow on them that recipe?" 
 
A tray of whips came last ; a dream 
 
 Made up of jam and beaten cream 
 
 Disposed by layers in glasses high 
 
 Well pleasing both to taste and eye. 
 
 Now when the feast in its variety 
 
 Had been enjoyed to full satiety, 
 
 Up rose the ladies to withdraw 
 
 And seek the parlor as before. 
 
 (The hostess and Miss Nancy counted 
 
 Their number to fourteen amounted) 
 
 There stood the Squire to extend 
 
 A cordial hand to every friend ; 
 
 One single man ! He needs must brace 
 
 Himself a like ordeal to face ! 
 
 His courage had not equal been 
 
 To taking tea with all fourteen ! 
 
 For him upon the pantry slide 
 
 An early bite had been supplied. 
 
 The door to swing again began 
 And husbands turned up to a man. 
 They now for whist made up their sets. 
 (I think those cheerful faced quartettes 
 Were just as happy on the whole 
 Not knowing Cavendish or Pole !) 
 
 Then for the " Little Help " that night, 
 There still was one remaining rite. 
 
At curfew, she a tray brought in, 
 
 Its burden reaching to her chin. 
 
 With cheeks Uke theirs, the anxious child 
 
 Bore pyramids of apples piled. 
 
 Raisins there were, and walnuts cracked, 
 
 Close ranks of glasses stood compact. 
 
 While two decanters held some sort 
 
 Of sherry, and a priceless port. 
 
 And last, the playful Squire commanded 
 A plate of cockles to be handed ; 
 Those sugar cockles tightly rolled 
 Did each a sentiment enfold. 
 " It mattered not " the Squire said 
 " That he was elderly and wed. 
 He liked the mottoes to unwind 
 Some bit of sentiment to find !" 
 
 *These tiny cornucopias of sugar, white and colored, each 
 containing a couplet, expressive of a tender sentiment, printed 
 on a slip of paper, were often seen on the table at parties 
 twenty-five years ago. They were made by a French confec- 
 tioner, and not found, I think, out of, Salem. 
 
The final parting guest was sped ; 
 The entertainers moved to bed. 
 Only the master stayed below 
 The bolts to slide and lights to blow. 
 Farewells yet lingering on the air, 
 He mounted then the twisting stair ; 
 His big repeater having wound. 
 And ere its hands had travelled round 
 Another fleeting hour to mark, 
 The Squire's house was still and dark. 
 
Irving K. Annable, 
 
 Salem and Boston. 
 
 1897. 
 
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