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 SKETCHES 
 
 MARTHA'S VINEYARD 
 
 TRAVEL AT HOME, 
 ETC. 
 
 OTHER REMINISCENCES 
 
 BY AN INEXPERIENCED CLERGYMAN. 
 
 BOSTON, 
 
 PUBLISHED BY JAME3 MUNROE & CO 
 
 1838. 
 
«fc 
 
 IP 
 
 
 
 1< 
 
 Entered according to act of Congress in the year 1838, 
 
 By James Munroe & Co., 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 
 
 3 3-r4 
 
 PRESS OK GEO. H. BROWN, 
 
 East Bridgewaler, Mass, 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 In offering the present volume to the public the writer has 
 been much influenced by the favorable judgment of individuals, 
 for whom he has the highest respect, upon those portions which 
 appeared in the Christian Register in 1836 — 7. He has been 
 told they were worthy of being issued in a collected form t 
 May it prove so. They have been revised with considerable 
 care, and many alterations and additions made. The original 
 form of 'Letters' in the Sketch of the Vineyard it was thought 
 best to preserve. A good deal of the present volume, beside 
 the Memoirs at the close, has not before seen tbe light, but he 
 trusts that what has been annexed will not be unacceptable to 
 his readers. He has aimed at candor and truth in the narration 
 of facts and the description of scenes. 
 
 The writer does not profess to be a great traveller ever at home, 
 and what he has written has been thrown off hastily in the in- 
 tervals of professional labour. His object has been to add 
 something to the enjoyment, if not the improvement of his rea- 
 ders, and, to accomplish this eud, he has been willing to expose 
 himself to the charge of an itch for authorship. To those who 
 have been over the same routes, it may be pleasing to have 
 their recollections revived. To those who have not, the fol- 
 lowing pages may serve, al least, as hints and directions. 
 
 SAMUEL ADAMS DEVENS. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 MARTHA'S VINEYARD. 
 
 Letter I, ----- Page 1 
 
 Discovery by Gosnold. Original name. The Plain. South 
 
 Shore. A Sportsman. A sight worth seeing. Cliffs at 
 
 Gayhead. Mrs. Remember Skiffe. 
 
 Letter II, - - 8 
 
 Attached to Massachusetts. Routes to the Vineyard. Domes- 
 tic Animals. Enterprize of the Inhabitants. Saturday Bap- 
 tists. Houses, etc. of the Inhabitants. Character of the in- 
 habitants. 
 
 Letter III, --------14 
 
 Nervous Peculiarities — Religious Excitement. An Incident. 
 Climate — Breakwater — Climate — Longevity — Habits — 
 Modern Degeneracy. 
 
 Letter IV, - - - - - - - -21 
 
 A Patriarch. A View. The Finny Tribe. A Rare Pond. 
 Best Walking in Bad Weather. 
 
 Letter V, --------27 
 
 The Indians. 
 
 Letter VI, _ _ _ ---. 33 
 
 The Indians. The Clergy. 
 
 Letter VII, ------- 3g 
 
 The Oldest Church. The Church-Yard and Pastor's Grave, 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 The Sanctity of the Place. Fourth of July at Edgartown — 
 The Poem. Ugly Tenants. A Tartar. Hard catching 
 one. 
 
 Letter VIII, ------- 51 
 
 Rev. Joseph Thaxter. Chaplain's Commission. Extracts from 
 his Sermons. His Industry. Simplicity of Life. Dr. 
 Beecher. Anecdotes. Benevolence and Success as a 
 Preacher. Prayer at Consecration of Bunker-Hill Monu - 
 ment. — Liberal Christianity. 
 
 DOWN EAST. 
 Chapter I, ------- 63 
 
 ©ardiner. Hallovvell. Augusta. Bangor, its climate — 
 character of the Inhabitants. A sermon long enough in all 
 conscience. Religious Meetings. Eastward in a Packet. 
 An uncomfortable night. Gloucester — its beauty seen from 
 the Bay. Adventure on an Island. Great Disappointment. 
 A brace of ruffians. Stone Church at Sea. Hard Luck. 
 
 Chapter II, ------ 77 
 
 Penobscot Bey. The old and trusty Pilot. Castine Light. 
 Castine — its Sabbath stillness — Climate — Churches. Forts. 
 Count of Castine. The Fort par excellence. View from th e 
 Rampart. View from the Islands and the Heights of Brook- 
 ville. Inhabitants ofC*. — Character and Occupation. — 
 Things never to be forgotten. 
 
 SOUTHWARD. 
 Chapter I, - - '- - * 86 
 
 Hartford — Asylum for the Deaf and Dumb. New-York — 
 Jewish Sabbath — Peale's Museum — Hydro-Oxygen Mi- 
 croscope. Hoboken. Philadelphia — Pratt's Garden, etc. 
 Baltimore — a noble Forest — Catholic Cathedral — an ardent 
 Catholic. Hotels. 
 
 Chapter II, ------- 96 
 
 Indications of Slavery. Washington — Capitol and President's 
 House. Mt. Vernon — the way to it. The old Negro ser- 
 
CONTENTS. VII 
 
 vant. The new and the old Tomb. The Mansion — its 
 Apartments, etc, Curiosties. The view from the Piazza. 
 The Garden and Green-house. Oar departure. 
 
 Chapter III, ------- 105 
 
 Return to the city. President's House — Appurtenances and 
 Decorations — View from the Vestibule. State Depart m ent 
 — Curiosities. Patent Rooms. Capitol — Rotundo — Li- 
 brary — Representatives' Chamber — Senate Chamber — 
 Crypet — View from the Dome. 
 
 Chapter IV, 112 
 
 Fredericksburg. The Coachman a slave-holder. Conversation 
 on Slavery. Richmond — Character of the Inhabitants. 
 Thoughts and feelings. Shockoe Hill. Monumental Church. 
 Promenade on the Banks of James River. April in Virginia. 
 Jewish Family. Wrecks on the Chesapeake. 
 
 DOWN EAST AGAIN. 
 
 Ellsworth — Character of the Inhabitants. Religious Condi- 
 tion. Our place of worship. Progress. Lyceum. Odd 
 Events, ----<--- 121 
 
 DEATH without WARNING, - - - - 131 
 
 NORTH RIVER. 
 
 West Point. Hyde Park. Catskill Mountains. Alligators, so 
 called. Athens. Hudson. Kinderhook. Albany. Sara- 
 toga Springs. Over the Mountains Home. - - 138 
 
 WESTWARD. 
 
 Meadville. An adventure in the Wilderness. A log Cabin. 
 An honest Dutchman. Bats in the attic. A way to get along. 
 My sleeping room. Novel breakfast. A stage load. Dis- 
 tinguished honor. Dutch wisdom, curiosity and persever- 
 ance. An awkward sow. The moral of the Tale. Pitts- 
 burg. Alleghany Mountains. Tornado. Bedford Springs. 
 Fredericktown. - - - 3 44 
 
VIII CONTENTS. 
 
 NEWPORT, 156 
 
 POVERTY NOT MISERY, - - 158 
 
 ASCENT OF THE MONADNOCK. 
 
 To err is human. 'Hope deferred,' etc. Misfortunes never 
 come single. Genuine benevolence, - 160 
 
 CURIOUS EPITAPH, - - - 164 
 
 MONADNOCK ONCE MORE. 
 Simplicity and cupidity. A little scandal. - - 165 
 
 PASSAGE OF THE SACO, - - - 167 
 
 PLEASANT MODE OF JOURNEYING. 
 
 A sublime scene. A trial. Rutland, - - 169 
 
 WHITE HILLS. 
 
 Mt. Clinton. Tornado. WlnnipiseogeeLake. Red Mountain. 
 Old Man of the Mountain. Not so easy to meet death as one 
 thinks for, 172 
 
 MEMOIR of Rev. Henry Augustus Walker, - - 177 
 MEMOIR of Rev. Zabdiel Adams, - - - 190 
 
SKETCHES OF TRAVEL- 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 Martha's Vineyard, 18 — . 
 
 To the Editor of the Christian Register: — 
 
 Having recently passed some little time on the 
 Vineyard, perhaps a general description of the is- 
 land — of the state of society and religion in its 
 principal town, its metropolis as it were, may not 
 be unacceptable to your readers. I hope not to 
 trespass upon more interesting and useful matter 
 that should find place in your paper. 
 
 The Island of Martha's Vineyard was discovered 
 as early as 160.2, by Gosnold. Thomas Mayhew 
 of Watertown obtained a grant of it in 1642. Soon 
 after he removed to the island he was appointed its 
 Governor. Previous, however, to his arrival sev- 
 eral English families resided here, for a church was 
 gathered as early as 1641, of which his son was 
 pastor. The original name of the Island is sup- 
 posed by Dr. Belknap to be Martin's Vineyard, 
 from Martin Pring, who visited it about a year after 
 it was discovered, and spent some weeks gathering 
 
<? THE PLAIN. 
 
 sassafras. A fanciful and amusing origin of the 
 names of the various islands in this region is handed 
 down from father to son, viz: — that three sisters who 
 came over from England — Eizabeth, Martha, and 
 Ann had the choice of them, and Elizabeth prefer- 
 roi that cluster which is known by her name — Mar- 
 tha, the Vineyard — and Jinn took it, (Nantucket) 
 the only one left. 
 
 The Vineyard is nineteen miles long and upon an 
 average five miles broad. It is generally level, 
 though in the northern and western parts the land 
 rises into hills of two hundred and fifty feet above 
 the adjacent country. This range of hills is denom- 
 inated the back-bone of the island. There is a plain 
 in the southern part, upon which Edgartown is sit- 
 uated, eight miles in length and five or six in breadth. 
 Various roads intersect it, running in all directions ; 
 but the beauty of the plain consists in this, that on 
 horseback, or with any vehicle, you may strike from 
 the beaten track and make a course for yourself 
 wherever you please upon a firm foundation of 
 smooth, closely-matted grass-ground. On this plain 
 it is a delightful ride of three miles from Edgartown 
 to the South Shore where the full swell of the sea 
 comes in with its mountain- waves. Indeed, when 
 the wind has subsided after a storm, and the sun 
 pours his glory upon the outspread ocean and peace- 
 ful land, if there is sublimity anywhere, it is here, 
 where the white-crested billows, curling in tripple 
 lines on either side of you as far as the eye can 
 
SOUTH SHORE. 3 
 
 reach, and bounding on with inexpressible majesty 
 and loveliness fling themselves with furious energy 
 and deafening roar at your feet, and chase you from 
 your thoughtless and irreverent intrusion upon their 
 sacred domain. Often have I visited it on foot and 
 horse, (here the high-mettled speechless animal, the 
 better for being such, is the best company, seems 
 to comprehend and participate your emotions, and 
 relieves that feeling of extreme solitariness which 
 comes over the soul) sometimes with friends — gen- 
 erally alone — and never without an awful sense of 
 the grandeur of God's works, felt nowhere else. — 
 The soul cannot but inwardly breathe that highly 
 expressive and noble passage of Scripture, l Great 
 and marvellous are thy works, Lord God Almighty. 
 There is that in the spectacle which oppresses one 
 with a sense of utter powerlessness and insignificance. 
 When witnessed for the first time by a person of sen- 
 sibility, to speak or move is out of the question. 
 It was told to me at Nantucket some two or three 
 years since, where the sea breaks in a similar man- 
 ner, that the Falls of Niagara generally disappoint 
 those who have seen the surf under the most favora- 
 ble circumstances. For myself, expecting much in 
 the former case and little in the latter I must con- 
 fess that sublimer emotions were awakened in my 
 bosom upon the desolate, storm-beaten shores 01 
 Nantucket and the Vineyard, than upon the Terra- 
 pin or Table-rocks. The falls, however, notwith- 
 standing the disappointment to which we are liable 
 
4 A SPORTSMAN. 
 
 in consequence of high-wrought expectation, must 
 ever remain the unsurpassed wonder of the world. 
 The beach is continually changing. One day you 
 will see it a smooth and gentle slope to the water's 
 edge ; the next thrown up into a perpendicular bank 
 several feet in height. Within a century one half a 
 mile of the shore has been carried away. The noise 
 of the surf is heard for miles, and in Edgartown it so 
 fills, literally Jills the air at times that you may easi- 
 ly imagine the waters of the great deep have burst 
 their barriers, and are approaching the town to over- 
 whelm it in their terrible wrath. Along the shore 
 is a great variety of sea-fowl. The inhabitants of 
 the town not infrequently resort thither to kill a mess 
 for their families. One afternoon I ventured to the 
 the beach with my travelling companion to whom I 
 became quite attached, when the wind blew enough 
 to take one's whiskers off and the ocean was lashed 
 into more than ordinary rage. I perceived at a dis- 
 tance a somewhat tall personage, equipped with 
 arms. Not doubting his vocation I advanced tow- 
 ard him. He stood upon the margin of an elevated 
 bank, against which every wave beat with fearful vi- 
 olence. Suddenly he disappeared. Whether the 
 earth or sea had swallowed him was to me a matter 
 of uncertainty. As I drew near he rose. I found 
 him standing in a circular hole he had dug in the 
 sand, his implement of death deposited by his side, 
 and encircled with sea-birds, the trophies of hisskill. 
 Though it was piercing cold, his shoes were off his 
 
A SIGHT WORTH SEEING. 5 
 
 feer, and carefully placed aside. When not intrud- 
 ed upon, as at present, he crouched in his hole 
 watching his prey, (very much as the ant-lion is said 
 to do,) which he brought down as they passed him 
 on the wing. I exchanged a few words with him as 
 well as I could amid the blinding spray and thenoise 
 of the elements. Not wishing to interrupt him lon- 
 ger, and (earing a gust of rain which was likely to 
 overtake me from the West, I turned my horse and 
 rode hastily home. — In the neighborhood of E. there 
 is an elevation of land of no more than 50 feet, 
 from which is a fine view of the town ; the harbor 
 with its shipping ; the sweeping course of Chappe- 
 quiddick island ; the plain spotted with sheep ; sev- 
 eral cottage-houses in the distance ; the oak-forests 
 in the interior ; the blue waters stretching along the 
 horizon till lost from the eve by the high land on the 
 North and West. 
 
 The harbor of E. is almost entirely protected 
 from winds and is one of the best in the world. A 
 Nothwester drove in something like an hundred sail 
 a few weeks since. Though the wind blew a hur- 
 ricane, and every thing on land shook as with the 
 palsy, the surface of the bay was but little agitated 
 and the vessels lay as tranquil as sea-birds in a calm. 
 Next day the weather changed, and the scene I can 
 never forget. The wind coming from the opposite 
 quarter, the clouds passed off and the sun came 
 down upon the waters bright and beautiful. The 
 craft, small and great, uplifted their silver sails, and 
 1* 
 
O CLIFFS AT GAYIIEAD. 
 
 with a good breeze made out to sea in almost regu- 
 lar succession. For an hour or two they might be 
 counted a few hundred rods apart, cleaving the deep 
 blue waves with their dashing prows. At length 
 they broke from the line and dispersed in all direc- 
 tions upon the boundless ocean. 
 
 The harbor is so much superior to that of Nan- 
 tucket, that the whale-ships belonging to the latter 
 are obliged to resort to it to prepare for their voya- 
 ges, and, I believe, to unlade when they return. — 
 Lighters -carrying their outfits or return-freights, run 
 between the islands. The soil of the island is in 
 many parts fertile, producing good crops of Indian 
 corn, rye, potatoes, &c. more than enough for home 
 consumption. Some of the grass land is as good as 
 it is upon the continent. There are some fine or- 
 chards and different kinds of berries are plentiful 
 Much of the island is covered with a growth of small 
 oak. At Gay head, the western extremity of the is- 
 land, are some objects of no little curiosity. This 
 is the territory of the Indians, of whom there yet re- 
 main several hundred. The clay banks or cliffs at 
 G. are 150 ieet from the shore and in some places 
 nearly perpendicular. Washed as they are by tem- 
 pestuous rains into a variety of shapes, frequently re- 
 sembling the most symmetrical Gothic pinnacles, 
 and reflecting the several colors, white, red, blue, 
 yellow and black, as strongly and brilliantly as if 
 prismatic, (each pinnacle having a different color,) as 
 you pass them on the Sound in a clear day they are 
 
MRS. REMEMBER SKIFFE. / 
 
 said to be indescribably beautiful. Whatever they 
 are on the water — they are so on the land. Hence 
 the name Gayhead. Petrifactions of different sorts, 
 such as wood,quohaugs, and the vertebrae of fish, are 
 taken from these cliffs loO feet from the shore. The 
 vertebra of a Lizard was shown me as large in cir- 
 cumference as the ordinary plate, or the inner edge 
 of my hat trim. This lizard, so thought Professor 
 Silliman, must have been 100 feet long and belong- 
 ed to a species now extinct. The gentleman, who 
 was kind enough to accompany me to the cliffs, dug 
 from them the petrified claw of a turtle, quite perfect 
 and of course very valuable. There is much food 
 here for the Geological student. 
 
 At Gayhead light was the home of Mrs. Remem- 
 ber Skiffe, ever memorable, who lived a century, 
 and when 93 years old knit 50 pairs of stockings in 
 twelve months, and upon whom the angel of disease 
 never put his finger until he summoned her from the 
 world. Although G. is twenty miles from E. and 
 it is necessary in going thither to take down and put 
 up, some thirty pairs of bars, it will well repay the 
 perseverance of the visitor. Here he will see the 
 Devil's Den; which resembles the crater of an ex- 
 tinct volcano; where, tradition informs us, the Gi- 
 ant Maushop took up his abode and boiled whales 
 for breakfast upon the forest trees he tore up by 
 the roots. He decamped very suddenly and left 
 his Satanic majesty heir to his possessions. The 
 Panorama from the light, or from the head is very 
 
8 ATTACHED TO MASSACHUSETTS, 
 
 extensive and fine. The eye takes in the broad ex-. 
 pause of the ocean ; the Sound with its many sail ;■ 
 Falmouth ; N. Bedford, and the blue outline of No- 
 man's Land and the Elizabeth Islands. But enough 
 for the present. Yours, &c. 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 Martha's Vineyard, IS — . 
 
 It is surprizing how ignorant many of us are of 
 many portions of our own State — even of places but 
 a day's ride from our homes. Of many a man in the 
 State, even in the metropolis thereof, you might 
 ask the question, whether Duke's County is a part 
 of Massachusetts or Virginia, who would be at a loss 
 for an answer. The most that is generally knowr 
 of Martha's Vineyard, the larger part of the County, 
 is, that it is an island. But exactly where it is ; 
 how far from the main, and whether represented in 
 the General Court, many, I think, would be puzzled 
 to say. 
 
 The County was under the jurisdiction of the 
 Duke of York for some thirty years, until 1692 
 when it became actually a part of Massachusetts: I 
 say actually, as it was nominally attached to Massa- 
 chusetts as early as 1644, and afterwards in like 
 manner to New York, for the only testimony of al- 
 legiance paid to the latter state was the primitive ta.x, 
 
ROUTES TO THE VINEYARD. D 
 
 of two barrels of pickled codfish every year. Dur- 
 ing the whole period of the settlement of the Vine- 
 yard from a time farther back than 1642, until it was 
 finally and inseparably bound to Massachusetts in 
 1692, it was quite republican in the mode of its gov- 
 ernment. It was and is still, a place by itself — un- 
 ique in its character and in the habits of its popula- 
 tion. The point of the Vineyard, nearest Boston, 
 is but little over eighty miles. There are two 
 routes. You may goto N. Bedford and thence take 
 the Nantucket Steamboat, which touches at Holmes' 
 Hole — or to Falmouth through Plymouth and 
 Sandwich, thence in the mail boat to the same 
 point. The distance from N. Bedford to Holmes' 
 Hole is twenty-seven miles — from Falmouth, eight 
 miles. Packets moreover run every day from N. 
 Bedford to Edgartown, a distance of thirty -six miles. 
 The trip from N. Bedford to Edgartown, whether 
 you proceed the whole distance by water or touch 
 at Holmes' Hole, and cross the Island in a regular 
 stage or chaise, is exceedingly pleasant. 
 
 The superb city-like appearance of N. Bedford 
 from Buzzard's Bay, (from this position it surpasses 
 in beauty the principal cities of the Union) the Eli- 
 zabeth Islands of. various form, size and aspect, 
 those elysian fields for the bleating lambs and their 
 meek mothers ; the broad Vineyard Sound ; and 
 the irregular shore of the Continent, here and there 
 enlivened by a diminutive village — these, to say 
 nought of the Vineyard itself, more or less attract 
 
10 DOMESTIC ANIMALS. 
 
 the eye and serve to render the passage interesting. 
 From Falmouth to the Vineyard it is common to 
 sail in an hour or a little over, and from N. Bedford 
 to Edgartown, not uncommon to sail in three hours 
 and a half. The packets, though not large, are first 
 rate, and, with a smart breeze and favorable tide, 
 •will run twelve knots the hour with safety. 
 
 The Vineyard is a paradise for sportsmen, abound- 
 ing in all sorts of fish and wild-fowl. Forty species 
 of the latter might be enumerated without compre- 
 hending near all. Domestic animals of all sorts, es- 
 pecially sheep, are raised upon the island. In 1807 
 there were about fifteen thousand. There has been 
 some diminution since, and the exact number I can- 
 not state. Nantucket is somewhat indebted to the 
 Vineyard for its meat as well as vegetable market. 
 The roads on the island are good or bad according 
 to the nature of the soil. The road to the south 
 shore is as good as one can desire. That to Holmes' 
 Hole is not good, though as it leads directly across 
 the Island through a peculiar sort of woodland, and 
 as the scenery is wild and novel, it affords quite an 
 agreeable ride. Some parts of the Vineyard are 
 covered with shells to the depth of three feet. They 
 are mostly the scallop andquahaug. In Edgartown 
 there is an acre and a half covered to this depth. 
 These are, unquestionably, spots where the Abori- 
 gines had their abode. Their remains and imple- 
 ments are frequently exhumated in different parts 
 of the Island. 
 
ENTERPRIZE OF THE INHABITANTS. 11 
 
 The wonder has been expressed that the Islanders 
 do not engage in the whale fishery. Ignorance is 
 apt to wonder. The truth is, they are engaged in 
 it, and own eight or nine first-rate ships. They were 
 engaged in it before the revolutionary war, to the 
 amount of fifteen or sixteen sail, but owing to some 
 depressing losses occasioned by the war it was giv- 
 en up. I am informed that eighty captains of whal- 
 ing ships belong to Edgartown. They sail mostly 
 from N. Bedford and are esteemed the most skillful 
 and trust-worthy that can be found. It has been re- 
 cently the same as asserted in some of the public 
 prints, that the inhabitants are unenterprising. This 
 is also far from the truth. Ample evidence to the 
 contrary is contained in what has just been stated. 
 If more evidence is needed, we might add, that 
 out of a population in Edgartown of fifteen hun- 
 dred, (which number comprises all ages, male and 
 female,) about three hundred of those who have ar- 
 rived at maturity — the most active and vigorous, 
 the bone and muscle of the community are, I may 
 say, ever abroad and in all quarters of the globe : 
 and further that, out of a population of three thou- 
 sand on the island, about five or six hundred cannot 
 be said to have a home upon the land, but go down 
 and not only go down, but live upon the sea in ships 
 and do business, most venturous business, upon the 
 great waters. 
 
 Holmes' Hole is just what its name indicates. 
 The village of the same designation is very prettily 
 
12 SATURDAY BAPTISTS. 
 
 situated at the head of the bay which runs far into 
 the land. It has on each side a promontory extend- 
 ing boldly into the Sound. These promontories 
 are denominated the East and West Chop ; per- 
 haps because they chop the sea. It contains 
 some churches and is about one third the size of 
 Edgartown. This latter place (pronounced Edgar- 
 ton) is situated on the south-eastern shore of the Is- 
 land and is as compact as a city. The fellow-feel- 
 ing produced by their circumstances, their island-res- 
 idence and sea-occupation, naturally concentrates 
 inhabitants. 
 
 The soil is more sandy here than in the more wes- 
 tern parts of the Island. Several wharves run out 
 some distance from the shore, and as vessels oft- 
 times lie on all sides, in bad weather, from six to 
 ten deep on the lee side, they give to the town an 
 appearance of considerable business and enterprize. 
 Many of the vessels are engaged in the fisheries, and 
 belong to the Saturday Baptists of New London. 
 This sect was new to me until I visited the Vine- 
 yard. There I learned that they keep strictly the 
 Jewish Sabbath, and make for the harbor on Friday 
 evening or Saturday morning. On this day, the 
 crews of several vessels congregate together and 
 have a regular service performed. Their character 
 in a moral and religious point of view is represented 
 very favorably. But to return, the houses are only 
 two stories in height, neat, though many are unpaint- 
 ed. Th e best paint is worn off in a year or two by 
 
HOUSES, &C. OF THE INHABITANTS. 13 
 
 the salt air and the driving storms. Whitewash is 
 almost, if not quite, as durable. Some of them are 
 modern in their structure, painted white, and orna- 
 mented with Venetian blinds. A taste for a variety 
 of colors prevails. It is not uncommon to see the 
 body of a house of one color with the border or 
 trimmings of another. The fences are touched off 
 in like manner. Many of them, along the top, are 
 hollowed into curves resembling those formed by 
 chains suspended at each extremity. The houses 
 have a social aspect, and remind one of the mild 
 climate of a southern latitude, for almost every door 
 opens upon an enclosed platform furnished with 
 seats on either side. Handsome grass-plots orna- 
 mented with flowers, are attached to several houses 
 in the village. An air of comfort pervades the 
 apartments and the tables are well supplied with 
 good things. Bread-making is an art well under- 
 stood and for it the inhabitants are famed. Though 
 fish is so plentiful and excellent, I never saw it served 
 up but twice in the course of a month, and then in 
 consequence of some wish expressed to that effect. 
 That nearest at hand is often least desired. A com- 
 mon blessing is often, for that reason, least prized. 
 Pies and cake with tea and coffee are in many fam- 
 ilies put upon the table three times a day. The 
 inhabitants are remarkable for their kind-heartedness; 
 and, though a certain class are said to be grossly ig- 
 norant, the standard of intelligence is much higher 
 than in the inland towns of our State. The propor- 
 2 
 
14 CHARACTER OF THE INHABITANTS. 
 
 tion of females is large, partly owing to the exposure 
 of the male population. One is surprised to observe 
 so many pleasant and intelligent countenances, such 
 a degree of good taste in dress and improvement 
 in manners. Even to this place, by some consid- 
 ered a by-corner of the world, the empire of fashion 
 has reached and exerts a powerful influence. Of 
 the inhabitants in general and of the amiable sex in 
 particular, it may be said with truth that they are in 
 mind acute and sprightly ; in temperament gleeful 
 and happy. Their sensibilities are quick, and hence 
 they are more liable to turns of excitement and de- 
 pression than the dwellers upon the continent. 
 
 The causes which have conduced to this peculi- 
 arity will be remarked upon in my next letter. 
 Yours, &c. 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 Martha's Vineyard, 18 — . 
 
 In my last letter it was remarked that the Island- 
 ers are quick in their sensibilities, easily excited and 
 easily depressed. In the present it is my intention 
 at the first, to fulfil my promise of assigning the cau- 
 ses which have united to produce their peculiar tem- 
 perament. With this the climate is generally ack- 
 nowledged to have much to do, operating as it does, 
 powerfully upon the nervous system. Other caus- 
 ses, co-operating with the one mentioned, are the 
 
NERVOUS PECULIARTIES. 15 
 
 free use of strong tea and coffee, which constitute a 
 part, and an important part, of every meal ; the na- 
 ture of sea life, which carries the men far away from 
 their homes and exposes them to great hazards, thus 
 depriving their families of their counsel and encour- 
 agement and keeping these in a continual state of 
 anxiety — their out-of-the-way-of-tfee-world situa- 
 tion, having the effect to concentrate and strength- 
 en their interests and affections, their extraordinary 
 religious efforts and excitements, continued in times 
 past, night after night, for months in succession. 
 You may be surprized, Mr. Editor, at this last ob- 
 servation. There is no doubt, however, of the fact, 
 and as little of the result ; for my information is de- 
 rived from many persons, and especially from an in- 
 telligent physician resident upon the Island for sev- 
 eral years. Why, Sir, this place has been the strong- 
 hold of fanatical preachers, and not seldom patients 
 have been transferred from the hands of the clergy- 
 man to those of the physician. What think you of 
 meetings every night in the week for six weeks, yes, 
 for three months in succession, prolonged sometimes 
 even into midnight, until the vestry floor, by its ap- 
 parently lifeless trophies, bears melancholy witness 
 to the tremendous effects wrought upon the nervous 
 system by the machinery of superstition ? Such un- 
 welcome statements I would not publish unless sup- 
 ported by the best of evidence. They proceed 
 from the lips of those who have been constant atten- 
 dants on such occasions. But to borrow the quaint 
 
16 ' RELIGIOUS EXCITEMENT. 
 
 phrase of an ungrammared rustic, — ' times a'n't as 
 they used to was.' There has been some change 
 for the better, though, strange as it may seem, the 
 present Clergyman of the Trinitarian Society in Ed- 
 gartown, one year since, held a meeting of no less 
 than six weeks duration. You may form some con- 
 ception of the burden of his duties, when informed 
 that he had just entered the ministry and been or- 
 dained over his people. He told me he was pretty 
 much run down; and well he might be. It is sur* 
 prizing he ever got up again. 
 
 An anecdote occurs to me illustrative of the ex- 
 tent to which religious excitement has been some- 
 times carried. A farmer, who had been in the habit 
 of attending the protracted meetings, was much 
 wrought upon. One day, while hoeing in his field 
 alone, he was worked up into a state of uncontrolable 
 ecstacy. In the wild rush of his feelings he threw 
 his hoe into the air with all the momentum that lay 
 in his muscles and shouted to the top of his lungs. 
 But to return. 
 
 How far, or whether in any degree the tempera- 
 ment of the islanders is to be ascribed to inherited 
 tendencies I am unable to affirm, though intelligent 
 and well informed gentlemen say that some of the 
 the original settlers were constitutionally nervous, 
 and that, in consequence of the little intercourse 
 they had with the continent in former times and 
 their near as well as frequent intermarriages, the 
 evil has been aggravated. However this mav be. 
 
AN INCIDENT. 17 
 
 --one thing is certain, that at the present clay this char- 
 acteristic is more observable in some families and 
 their branches than in others. Cases of nervous 
 debility, hysterics, and mental prostration are not in- 
 frequent. Taking a walk one pleasant morning I 
 left the town a mile or two behind me, pursuing my 
 way into the interior of the island. Being some- 
 what fatigued, I sat down to rest myself on the edge 
 of a forest of small oak trees. Not expecting to be 
 greeted by the sight of a human being I suffered my- 
 self to fall into an idle revery. In a moment or two 
 turning my eye into the depth of the forest, I per- 
 ceived a wagoner descending a small rise of ground 
 with a load of produce. Fearing he might be some- 
 what startled at the sight of me in that solitary place, 
 I resolved to prove to him that mental alienation had 
 not caused me to stray thither, and when he reach- 
 ed me, forthwith commenced conversation with him. 
 We walked along in company. In early life, he 
 said, he had been accustomed to the seas, but was 
 now engaged in tilling the soil some eight or nine 
 miles from Edgartown. He was talkative and know- 
 ing, and told me about the island, its climate, and in- 
 habitants. Said he, a certain person, (naming him) 
 who had been much about the world, said to my fa- 
 ther, that in all his travels he never saw so many 
 ' Narvous ' people as on this Island, and the farmer 
 corroborated this observation by adding that there 
 were indeed 'many women in a poor way — and 
 some persons crackheaded.' Other items of his 
 
18 CLIMATE. 
 
 conversation I remember, but this is all to my pur- 
 pose. 
 
 Beside snervous disorders, which are common, con- 
 sumption prevails to some extent ; but, it is thought, 
 less than on the continent. To fevers, dysentery 
 and gout the Islanders can hardly be said to be sub- 
 ject. The temperature is even, the mercury sel- 
 dom if ever rising above 85, or falling lower than 6 
 below zero. The air is remarkably pure and for 
 most constitutions salubrious. Those who are from 
 the inland part of the continent, are generally braced 
 up, and highly exhilarated by its powerful nervous 
 action. Unless when the weather changes there is 
 far less difference between the air in the day and 
 night than in Boston and other parts of Massachu- 
 setts. No noxious exhalation from the ground in- 
 fuses its chill and poison. There is a blandness in 
 the breath of night that is truly delicious. For spring 
 and mid-winter in this respect I cannot vouch, but 
 for summer and autumn lean. The consequence 
 is that the latter part of the day and evening are the 
 chosen time for the fair to make their appearance. 
 At this period there is a life and joy around that re- 
 mind one of a different clime. 
 
 The length of the village is the common prome- 
 nade. A favorite resort is the Breakwater, erected 
 by the general government at an expense of seven 
 thousand dollars. It is built very strong of plank 
 and timber,and runs an eighth of a mile into the Bay. 
 It is wider than the foot walks of our bridges, and be- 
 
BREAKWATER CLIMATE. 19 
 
 ing railed in, much resembles them. At its extremity 
 is a small dwelling and light-house, conjoined. It is of 
 the purest white and glistens beautifully in the clear 
 beams of the setting sun. The view, from this point, 
 of the lively happy village reposing so quietly along 
 the shore, and of the calm blue Bay outspread on 
 either side, is uncommonly pleasing. The termi- 
 nation of an afternoon's ramble generally found me 
 fastened to this attractive spot. 
 
 About the climate it may be well to make one or 
 two more observations. In Winter the winds are 
 boisterous. From whatever quarter they blow they 
 have an almost unimpeded sweep across the Island. 
 In Spring aud Summer fogs are frequent but not in- 
 jurious to health. The suddenness with which, 
 however dense, they are burnt up by the morning 
 sun in Summer, is truly astonishing. It is almost a 
 fairy scene. During the most severe and fleecy 
 winters upon the main snow falls but very seldom, 
 and even poor sleighing is a rare phenomenon. Last 
 Winter there was not snow enough on the ground 
 for sleighing until March, and then only for a few 
 days. In mid-winter the Island is mostly encircled 
 with ice. For some days all communication 
 with the main is cut off. Last winter the Packets 
 were obliged to lie by for four weeks ; the mail-boat 
 however was detained but a week. The climate is 
 favorable to longevity. As an evidence of this it is 
 related that out of six of the Mayhew family, that 
 might be named, not one died onder 84 ; two died 
 
20 LONGEVITY HABITS. 
 
 at 87, and one at 90. Of the Coffin family it is al- 
 so matter of history, that the father died at 83, and 
 of his ten children none died under 70, four died 
 above 80, and two at DO. 
 
 The Piano did not find its way to the Island until 
 recently. Now you are enlivened by the pleasant 
 tones of several, as you pass up and down the prin- 
 cipal street. At any hour of the night the streets 
 are perfectly safe. On Nantucket, a few years since, 
 it was so well known who was on the Island, and 
 such a true, confidential, and delightfully pleasant 
 feeling pervaded the population, that it was an un- 
 known thing to lock or bar one's doors at night. I 
 doubt not the same was true of the Vineyard. 
 
 There are no signs of intemperance in Edgartown. 
 None are licenced to sell spirit, and all that is used 
 is bought and sold secretly. Beer, cider, and wine 
 are rarely seen. The inhabitants are remarkable for 
 a generous, upright, peaceable, and religious charac- 
 ter. Only three cases of litigation have gone to the 
 Jury in the space of five years. Of course there is 
 little or nothing for lawyers to feed upon. Knitting 
 was a very general occupation some thirty years 
 since. We are informed by Dr. Freeman,* that 
 15,000 pairs of stockings,— 3, COO mittens, and 600 
 wigs for seamen were knit annually. It is far from 
 being so now. The good old times rise in judgment 
 
 *He wrote an interesting narrative of Duke's County in 1807, 
 inserted in the Collection of the Massachusetts Historical Socie- 
 ty, Vol. 3d, 2d Series, 
 
MODERN DEGENERACY'. 21 
 
 against the sad degeneracy of the present, and con- 
 demn them. It used to he said that when you 
 reached Cape Poge light (which is near the North 
 extremity of Chappequiddick Island and several 
 miles from the Vineyard) you could hear the 
 knitting needles at Edgartown. It is not so now, 
 and many an ancient and discreet personage is found 
 to lament that the fingers of the fair are bewitch- 
 ed to thrum the keys of that modern notion and 
 arrant time-killer, — the Piano. If they could on- 
 ly talk Latin, how feelingly they would ex* hum, 
 tempora — O mores. Yours. 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 Martha's Vineyard, 18 — . 
 
 The Vineyard is set off into three townships, 
 Chilmark, Tisbury, and Edgartown. Gayheacl, 
 which contains the best land on the Island, is com- 
 prised within the limits of Chilmark. ft is, as I 
 have before observed, in possession of the Indians. 
 Some of it is cultivated by them, but the larger part 
 is used for pasturage. As you ride over its uneven 
 snrface, now to the summit of a rugged knoll, now 
 down the precipitous sides of a deep hollow, again 
 along the margin of an extended, irregular pond, it 
 gives an aspect of life to the bald and desolate scen- 
 ery to catch a view here and there of the herds of 
 
22 A PATRIARCH. 
 
 grazing cattle. One half the inhabitants of the Is- 
 land are dispersed over the townships of Chilraark 
 and Tisbury. Much of these townships is covered 
 with shrub-oak. That portion which is cleared is 
 good for pasturage or tillage. The northern and 
 western parts swell into hills, on whose summits rise 
 granite rocks of peculiar shape and appearance. At 
 a distance it is easy to mistake them for houses and 
 barns. Some are hollowed at the top, and, if in 
 the neighborhood of houses, are turned to good ac- 
 count by being converted into watering troughs' 
 The goat race, like the Indian, is fast disappearing 
 before the tide of civilization. Among the few that are 
 left, when threading my way through the forests 
 of bitter oak towards Gayhead, I saw one whose 
 like I am sure I never shall see again. To describe 
 him would be impossible. A patriarch of many 
 generations, — with a hair-coat of the glossiest black 
 and purest white ! The sight of it was enough to 
 keep off the chill of the most searching north-easter. 
 And then what an imposing creature ! As big ev- 
 ery whit as a Shetland poney. What noble propor- 
 tions ! What a bold and martial front, with threat- 
 ening and sturdy turrets above, and a huge sweeping 
 length of matted gray beard below, such as would 
 cheer the heart of the ( straitest sect ' of Jew or 
 Turk ! Such a veteran would have been the pride 
 of a menagerie. Alone he would have drawn more 
 visiters jthan the big ox, or the mock sea-serpent. You 
 could not but pay him reverence. Mammoth as he 
 
A VIEW 23 
 
 was, he had grown up from infancy on leaves and 
 twigs and buds. 
 
 Onward a (e\v miles — a little more than an hour's 
 ride from Gay head, where you must alight from 
 your chaise and mount your horse — while prepa- 
 rations are making, strike across the fields to the 
 South Coast, overleaping a few walls and fences. 
 It is but half a mile, and you will never regret it. 
 You will soon reach the bold head-land. But be 
 cautious that you approach not too near. Step light- 
 ly, for the smooth grass platform on which you 
 tread is precarious footing. The bank is worn away 
 many feet underneath and the turf projects far over 
 without support. If it should give way, as it has by 
 the weight of cattle grazing along its edge and by 
 the force of gravity alone, you would be precipita- 
 ted more than a hundred and thirty feet, with nothing 
 to interrupt your descent until you reached the roar- 
 ing surf, or struck upon the sea-worn rocks below. — 
 At any period of tide a fatal fall. — But take your 
 station a little from the edge, with one hand hold of 
 the rails of a fence, which seems erected here for 
 your especial convenience and security ; then bend 
 over and take a view of the spectacle. The sea-— 
 it is far, far beneath you. You are beyond the 
 reach of the wildest, maddest leap of his fury. As 
 it chafes upon the rocky shore, its solemn music 
 reaches your ear softened by distance. Now raise 
 your head — look ofFupon the measureless expanse. 
 Not a handful of earth till you reach Cuba or the 
 
24 THE FINNY TRIBE. 
 
 Bahamas. What a flood of waters! How profound 
 and infinite ! How awful, yet how peaceful ! 
 c What heavenly dignity'! Mysterious sea ! in thy 
 slumbers how serene — in thy wrath how terrific ! 
 Below, among the rocks and sands, thou dost 'play 
 upon thy lowest stops.' Thou sendest upward thy 
 mellowest — richest tones. 
 
 One may readily determine the great difference 
 between the night air along the shore and inland by 
 taking a ride of a few miles from Edgartown — say- 
 as far as Tisbury. In Tisbury and Chilmark, as 
 soon as the sun has set, the dank vapours rise and 
 the chill dews fall. Early in Autumn a coat is need- 
 ed, and thin ice makes in the pools and ponds. 
 While in Edgartown the evenings are mild, clear, 
 and summer-like. However in all parts of the Island 
 the < fig-tree and the vine do yield their strength.' 
 
 The shark is rarely seen ; but the whale occa- 
 sionally gambols a few miles from the South beach. 
 The sword-fish you may take when you will. The 
 squid is a soft bladder-fish found in the sand, egg- 
 shaped and of variegated colors ;very attractive to the 
 eye, but poisonous to the touch. With the -Island- 
 ers the brilliant blue-fish and the large fat eels of the 
 ponds and harbors (fifteen barrels of which are 
 sometimes taken in a night) are luxuries, as well as 
 that unique and really luscious dish — the corn-pud- 
 ding. 
 
 The bellows fish must not be omitted, which 
 pumps water into a membraneous apartment on its 
 
A RARE POND. 25 
 
 under side, and swells itself to such a degree that 
 its diameter is equal to twice its length. Singular 
 contrivance this ! yet it serves a most important pur- 
 pose. The fish thus escapes all enemies that would 
 swallow it up. 
 
 Its security in its own element is its ruin on land. 
 The little Islanders — mischievous urchins — catch 
 it and scratch its stomach to make it swell. When 
 it has reached its .mil dimensions, they give it a blow 
 with a stick or stone, and it bursts with a noise as 
 loud as a pistol. 
 
 It the vicinity of Edgartown is a pond which is 
 said to rise in dvy weather and fall in wet. Do you 
 doubl it, reader? Many of three -score years and ten 
 declare it upon their honor, and would testify to 
 it upon oath. You may be incredulous if you will, 
 but such is the testimony. 
 
 This is not the only strange and phenominal thing 
 about the Island. Credible men say that the hys- 
 tericks prevail more or less in those families living 
 along the Southern shore. The air is saturated with 
 the salt-vapour and strains up the system beyond its 
 capacity of endurance. Indeed the haughty sea 
 loves his solitary grandeur, and with hoarse tones 
 thunders in the ear of obtrusive humanity ■ — c hith- 
 erto shalt thou come but no further, and here thy 
 proud feet be stayed.' 
 
 Strange as it may seem, the flood tide sets up be- 
 tween the Elizabeth Islands and Gayhead, and flows 
 eastward through the Sound on towards Massachu- 
 3 
 
26 BEST WALKING IN BAD WEATHER. 
 
 selts Bay, and the ebb tide accordingly in a contra- 
 ry direction. At Point Judith the reverse is true. 
 
 Oil is money. Hence on the Island the circu- 
 lating medium is plentiful. For invalids the Island 
 offers advantages that few other places possess, at 
 least in one particular. You are not shut up within 
 doors at any season of the year in consequence of 
 muddy streets. The slippery ela) -hills up and down 
 the Kennebec and Penobscot render it impossible 
 to step out after an April shower without carrying 
 along with you a considerable portion of the street. 
 Here it is the best walking in bad weather. Heavy 
 rains have an effect upon the soil similar to the 
 ' hammer of the surf upon the sea-beach. 
 
 The old stock of the Islanders may be said to 
 have a language and pronunciation of their own. 
 The former is quaint, hearty, and much set ofFwith 
 sea-phrases and wild imagery. The latter is singu- 
 larly provincial, full of force and meaning, and high- 
 ly amusing. These remarks must be confined to 
 the old settlers, some of whom have never set foot 
 upon the main-land. If one of them who had seen 
 nothing but salt-water and a patch ol earth were sud- 
 denly transported to the crowded streets of Boston 
 or New-York, what would he think ? That he was 
 in his own sphere ? Notwithstanding such cases as 
 these, there are men on the Vineyard who have en- 
 joyed good advantages of education, and have much 
 experience and knowledge of the world. And it is 
 not strange, for they have visited its remotest cor- 
 
THE INDIANS. 27 
 
 ners. The representation from this place in the 
 House and Senate is more than respectable, and 
 will compare with that from almost any part of the 
 State. — Remarks upon the condition of the Indi- 
 ans and the state of Religion in a future number. 
 Yours. 
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 Martha's Vineyard, 18 — . 
 
 It was my intention, Mr. Editor, to have taken 
 some pains to prepare for your present paper a no- 
 tice of the past and present condition of the Indians 
 of Martha's Vineyard. Upon looking into the ' His- 
 torical Collections ' to obtain some facts illustrative 
 of their condition in the early settlement of our 
 country, a narrative written some thirty years since 
 so much pleased me by its interesting matter and 
 agreeable style that to attempt to condense and im- 
 prove it seemed to me unnecessary and presumptu- 
 ous. I gladly avail myself of its contents without 
 alteration for other important reasons with which I 
 doubt not you will equally coincide. Though writ- 
 ten in 1S07, it in the main describes correctly the 
 condition of the Aborigines at the present time. It 
 is moreover understood to be, and without question 
 is, the production of the late deceased and venerable 
 Dr. Freeman of King's Chapel. Since the account 
 was written Mr. Frederic Baylies has been minister 
 
28 THE INDIANS. 
 
 and teacher among the Indians, until within a Few 
 months. He was a true-hearted man and i 
 useful in the sphere allotted to him. He labored 
 diligently among them for some twenty-five years. 
 The first time I visited the Island he was hale and 
 vigorous, devoted to his work and much interested 
 in the furtherance of liberal views of Christianity. 
 The last time I was there the sad intelligence was 
 brought of his sudden death while on a journey into 
 the Western part of the State of New- York. His 
 salary was about 550 dollars, a portion of which he 
 expended for the support of Teachers among the 
 Indians on the Vineyard, Nantucket, and Cape Cod. 
 Under his instruction and preaching the Indians have 
 a good deal improved. They are more character- 
 ized by honest, chaste, sober, and industrious habits 
 than when Dr. Freeman visited them. In number 
 it is difficult to say whether there has been any de- 
 cided increase or diminution for thirty years past, 
 though Mr. B. whose judgment it would seem must 
 be correct, was of opinion they had decreased, 
 The number in 1S07 was 240. The present num- 
 ber is not far different. Says Dr. F.: 
 
 "The name of Martha's Vineyard, according to Gookin,was 
 Nope; but according to all ethers of the old writers, it was Cap- 
 awock. Gookin, who appears to have taken pains to ascertain 
 facts, and in whose Collection there is an air of simplicity and 
 truth, is not to be charged with having invented this word Nope; 
 but the probability is that the island had two name*. At the 
 time in which it was discovered by the English it was full of in- 
 habitants ; and as they continued to be numerous, when it waa 
 
THE INDIANS. 29 
 
 first settled by the English, it may be concluded that it was not 
 visited by the pestilence of 1617. Not less than three thousand 
 Indians, it has been generally estimated, were on the Island 
 when it was entered by Mayhew. As it seems capable of sup- 
 porting scarcely a greater number of white inhabitants, who oc- 
 cupy much less space than savages, it may be asked, whence did 
 so many of these children of nature derive their subsistence? 
 From the account that has been given of Martha's Vineyard, it 
 will be easy to answer this question. The truth is that its har- 
 bors, coves, lagunes, and ponds afford an inexhaustible supply 
 of food. They could obtain the shell fish, which lie in such 
 profusion 0:1 its shores, without the exercise of much invention; 
 and they had discovered several ingenious methods of entrap- 
 ping the eels and other fish, which swim in its waters. The Is- 
 land itself was not destitute of game ; and innumerable birds 
 haunted its woods and coasts, which would sometimes be pierc- 
 ed by the arrows of the Indians ; not to mention that the sandy 
 soil was peculiarly favorable to the cultivation of squashes, 
 beans, and maize It was a knowledge of these things, which 
 induced so many of the savages to press to these islands, and the 
 parts of the coast which resemble them : they appear barren to 
 those who think that no country is fruitful, where the fields are 
 not green ; but to an Indian they were the most fertile parts of 
 America. That Martha's Vineyard then was capable of sustain- 
 ing a multitude of inhabitants, is evident ; and that this was the 
 fact may with some degree of p obability be inferred from the 
 great number of proper names in common use. There was not 
 a hiil, a cove, a point ©f land, or a pond, however small, which 
 had not its own appellation. Many of these names are familiar 
 to the white inhabitants ; and many more which have become 
 obsolete, are still to be found in deeds of land and ancient books. 
 Words follow the steps of men ; and where a country by dis- 
 tinct names is subdivided into many minute parts, there is al- 
 ways reason to suppose that it has a numerous population. 
 
 " But though there is no room far doubting the testimony 
 of the writers who assert, that when these islands were first set- 
 tled by the English, they were well filled with inhabitants, yet it 
 
 3* 
 
SO THE INDIANS. 
 
 appears, that the peop^ began to waste away, soon after the 
 whites appeared among them. In 1643, and at several other 
 times they were visited by a general disease." This was proba- 
 bly the yellow fever, which was, with the consumption, the dis- 
 order of which they commonly died. In 1674, they were re- 
 duced to three hundred families, or about fifteen hundred souls. 
 
 " Like the other savages of New England, they were in a low 
 state of civilzation ; and they had attained few of the arts, which 
 contribute to the comfort of human life. The houses were small, 
 mean, and generally filled with smoke ; and their weapons of 
 war were feeble and pointless, as is evident from the stone 
 heads of their arrows which are still frequently picked up. They- 
 were however a hospitable and tractable people. When, there- 
 fore, the younger Mr. Mayhew attempted to introduce the gos- 
 pel among them, they received him with kindness, and with 
 readiness listened to his exhortations. The wonderful progress 
 which the Christian religion, through the zeal of this eminent 
 evangelist and his worthy successors, made in Martha's Vine- 
 yard, surprized and delighted the pious of that age ; and they 
 lailed not to notice with minute attention its various circum- 
 stances. The younger Mr. Mayhew labored in this benevolent 
 work, with diligence and fervor till his death. It was then as- 
 sumed by his father, and after him by his son ; and it has been 
 carried on in the same family to the present day. In less than 
 thirty years almost every Indian on the Island had become a 
 professed Christian. At first they were only catechumens ; but 
 they were formed into a church in 1659, from which another 
 church arose in the year 1670. 
 
 " The Indians were converted to the Christian faith ; and at- 
 tempts were made to reduce them to a state of civilization. But 
 they who have been conversant with the Indians will often 
 repeat how unprofitable the labor hath been either to civilize 
 or convert them. Much money hath been expended to little or 
 no purpose ; and every method to educate them has failed. 
 They who met with most success, such as Mr. Eliot and Mr. 
 Mayhew, had they lived longer, would have wondered to see 
 how soon their disciples returned to their former ignorance and 
 
THE INDIANS. 31 
 
 stupidity, how little difference was made in the face of the wil- 
 derness. If it blossomed for a while and yielded some little 
 fruit, the season was short and what was not covered with weeds, 
 proved a cold an-.l barren soil. The May hews, however pious 
 and benevolent, did not much benefit the Indians , but the Eng- 
 lish gained the most essential advantages from the ascendency 
 which was gained over their minds ; they were disarmed ot 
 their rage ; they were made friends and" fellow subjects. At 
 length they ceased to be formidable from another cause : then- 
 numbers dwindled away, their courage abated, and they sunk 
 into a mean and depressed people. The progress of their de- 
 cliaeto the year 1764, is exhibited in the following table : — 
 
 " Number of Indians in Duke's County at five different peri- 
 ods : in 1642, 3000 ; 1674, 1500 ; 1698, 1000 ; 1720, 300 ; 
 1764, 313. 
 
 " The present state of these Indians has not much to excite 
 attention or interest curiosity. Beginning east the first collection 
 is found at Chappaquiddick. On this Island they have a tract of 
 land reserved to them, containing about eight hundred acres. 
 They are much intermixed with white and negro blood, very 
 few of them being pure Indians ; and they have been improved 
 in their habits and industry by the intermixture. Several of them 
 live in framed houses, are good farmers, and are tolerably neat 
 in their persons and habitations. The old men only are far- 
 mers, and are assisted by the women, who sow and hoe the 
 corn : the young men are seamen. Their lands are not enclosed; 
 but their cattle are kept with a tedder. Their numbers wkich 
 are probably increasing, are sixty-five, of whom nine are stran- 
 gers, intermarried with them. The framed houses are ten ; the 
 wigwams two. 
 
 " Near Sangekantacket, adjoining the Lagune, at a place 
 called Farm Neck, there was formerly a large town of Indians; 
 and twenty persons of a mixed race still remain, who live in six 
 houses, are divided into six families, and retain near two hun- 
 dred acres of land. 
 
 " At West Chop in Tisbury, there is one Indian family, con 
 sisting of five persons. 
 
32 THE INDIANS. 
 
 " In the north-west part of Tisbury there is a tract of land, 
 called Christian town, assigned to the Indians, who are placed 
 under guardians. They consist of nine families and thirty-two 
 souls, ofwhom one male and sis females are pure ; the rest are 
 mixed, chiefly with whites. 
 
 "The great body of the Indians is at Gayhead. They have 
 here a tract of excellent land, containing three thousand acres, 
 reserved to them. It is destitute of trees ; but there are many 
 swamps, some of which afford peat, and others, springs of goo 1 
 water. The land is broken into hills ; and there are no roads. 
 The Indians have twenty-six framed houses and seven wigwams. 
 Ihe framed houses are nothing better than mean huts ; some of 
 them have two apartments ; but the greatest part of them, not 
 more than one. There are three barns, and two meeting-hous- 
 es, which are small buildings not more than twenty feet square. 
 The number of families is thirty four; and of souls one hundred 
 and forty two : beside whom about a hundred Indians are ab- 
 sent from Gayhead ; some of whom are children put out to ser- 
 vice in English families ; and others whale-men ; making the 
 whole number of proprietors, about two hundred and forty. Ev- 
 ery native, whether he live off or on the is'and, is considered as 
 a proprietor ; and every child born to him is entitled to a right, 
 which is equivalent to the pasture of three sheep. No sheep are 
 kept. ***** * * 
 
 The mixed race is better than the pure Indians. Al- 
 most all of them have cows ; and a few of them, oxen ; they 
 own as many as twenty horses. A part of their land is every 
 year let to the whites ; and the income is appropriated to the 
 support of their poor. The Indians raise very little corn, but 
 have pretty good gardens. They annually sell a hundred or 
 two hundred bushels of cranberries, which grow in great plen- 
 ty in t'leir cranberry bogs. The rest of their subsistence is 
 derived from fishing ; and from the sale of clay, which they 
 dispose of on the spot for three dollars, and when they carry it 
 to market, f-jr five dollars a ton. Small as their numbers are, 
 they have two preachers ; one ofwhom is a Baptist ; the other 
 a Congregational ist ; the first of the mixed race, the second an 
 
THE INDIANS. 3-5 
 
 Indian. Beside the houses at Gayhead, there is one Indian 
 hor.se and three wigwams at Chilmark ; all the inhabitants of 
 wh : ch, except a woman living in one of the wigwam-, have 
 rights at Gayhead, and are included in their numb 'r. r I be In- 
 dians in this part of the island, are generally unchaste, intem- 
 perate, without forethought, and many of them dishonest. They 
 are however more industrious, and neater in their persons and 
 houses than is common for Indians." Yours. 
 
 LETTER VI. 
 
 Martha's Vineyard, IS — . 
 
 The Indian huts are dispersed over a large ex- 
 tent at Gayhead. On my way to the cliffs I pass- 
 ed a small building used for a school-house and 
 church. It is situated upon the summit of a knoll 
 from which there is a fine prospect. Of the Indi- 
 ans it is said there are not more than five or six full- 
 blooded. While giving an account of the Indians, 
 the labors and character of the Mayhews, who were 
 the first apostles of Christ among them, ought not to 
 be passed over slightly. On this point I am happy 
 to recur agr.in to Dr. Freeman : 
 
 "Mr. Mayhew having established himself peaceably on the 
 Island, undertook with the assistance of his son, to civilize unci 
 christianize the native inhabitants. Of the attempts which were 
 made to convert the Indians to the f.iitii of the gospel we 
 not speak, except so far as may be necessary to show with 
 what prudence and moderation Mr. Mayhew cond acted himself 
 in his intercourse with the natives. The sachems of these is- 
 lands were absolute in their government ; but they were subject 
 
34 THE INDIANS. 
 
 in certain respects to the sagamore of the Wamponoags, to 
 whom they were obliged to do homage and make annual 
 presonts. This subjeetion was irksome to their minds ; and 
 they were ready to repel any new attempt to impose an addi- 
 tional yoke upon them; or to withdraw their subjects from tiie 
 obedience which was due to their pnnces. When, therefore, 
 they perceived the English missionaries among their people, 
 they became jealous that in their animated harangues, they wer \ 
 aiming to attach them to their own persons, and that under the 
 pretence of religion they were invading the authority of the sa- 
 chems. 
 
 " Mr. Mayhew observing this jealousy and the causes of it, 
 took an opportunity of addressing the sachems in the following 
 terms : That by an order from the king of England he was to gov- 
 ern the English who inhabited these islands ; that his royal maste:* 
 was in power superior to any of the Indian sagamores ; but 
 that he was just, as well as powerful ; that therefore he would 
 not in any manner invade their jurisdiction ; but on the contra- 
 ry, assist them, if necessary ; that religion and government were 
 distinct concerns ; and that the sachems might retain their au- 
 thority, though their subjects were christians. By such prudent 
 speeches he soon brought them to entertain a good opinion of 
 the christian religion. 
 
 " When afterwards the number of christian Indians increas- 
 ed, he prevailed upon them to admit the counsels of judicious 
 christians in their controversies, and in cases of more than ordi- 
 nary consequence to introduce a jury for trial ; promising his 
 own assistance to the sachems, whose assent was always to be 
 obtained, though they were nolchristions. Thus in a few years 
 he established a happy administration ofjustice among them, to 
 their great satisfaction ; and records were kept of all their pro- 
 ceedings in their several courts, by those who had learned to 
 write, and who were appointed to the office. 
 
 '• Hy his prudent conduct and arguments, he convinced the 
 sachems themselves of the distinguishing excellence of the Eng- 
 lish government; and in his administration he gave them so fair 
 an example of its happiness, as not only filled them' with a 
 
THE INDIANS. J5 
 
 strong desire of adopting the same form themselves, but even 
 induced them voluntarily to make a public acknowledgment of 
 their subjection to the crown of England ; though at the same 
 time they were careful to have it understood, that they retained 
 their authority as subordinate princes. 
 
 " In his administration he was always ready to hear and re- 
 dress their grievances, on the first complaint, without the least 
 delay ; by which means he wisely prevented any unfavorable 
 impression being made on their minds through a neglect of j is- 
 tice. Whenever he decided any causes between them, he not 
 only gave them equal justice wirh the English, but he also to >k 
 pains to convince them that what he determined was right. He 
 would not suffer any one to injure them either in their goods; 
 lands, or persons. They always found in him a protector and a 
 father: by the dignity of his manners, he excited their rever- 
 ence; and by his condescension and benevolence he secured 
 their affection. In consequence of this discreet and virtuous 
 conduct, no difference took place between the English and na- 
 tives on these islands as long as he lived among them, which 
 was near forty years. The Indians admired and loved him as 
 a superior being, who always did what was right, and who had 
 no other object than to make them happy. 
 
 " In the year 1675, the war, which like a black cloud had 
 hovered during four years over New England, burst whh fury 
 on the country. Almost all the Indian nations on the Main 
 were united against the English. Alarm and terror were dif- 
 fused on every side ; and the white inhabitants suffered their 
 minds to become unreasonably exasperated against all the Indi- 
 ans wirhout distinction, and even against their christian friends. 
 Of this jealous spirit were several persons at Martha's Vineyard, 
 who with difficulty could be restrained by Mr. Mayhew and oth- 
 ers associated in the magistracy with him, from attempting to 
 disarm the Indians by whom they were surrounded, and whose 
 number greatly exceeded that of the English. 
 
 "For the satisfaction of these jealous persons, Capt. Richard 
 Sarsan was sent with a small party to the west end of the island, 
 where the least dependence was to be placed on the Indians 
 
36 THE INDIANS. 
 
 because they were nearest the continent, and were the last who 
 had embraced Christianity. He made known to them the sus- 
 picions of some of the white inhabitants, and returned with this 
 wise and amicable answer : That the surrender of their arms 
 would expose them to the power of the Indians engaged in the 
 present war, who were not less enemies to thsm than to the 
 English ; that they had never given occasion for the jealousy 
 which now seemed to be entertained ofthem;lhat if by any means 
 without hazarding their safety, they could afford further proof 
 of their friendship and fidelity, they would readily doit; but 
 that they were unwilling to deliver up their arms, unless the 
 English would propose another method which would be more 
 likely to ensure their preservation. With this answer they sent 
 a writing, which was drawn up in their own language and in 
 which they declared : That as they had submitted freely to the 
 crown of England, so they were resolved to assut the English on 
 these islands against their enemies, whom they accounted as 
 much enemies to themselves, as to any other of the subjects of 
 the king. This paper was subscribed by persons of the greatest 
 not* and power among them. 
 
 " The Governor, Mr. Mayhew, was so well satisfied with the 
 answer which was sent, that he employed the Indians as a guard, 
 furnishing them with the necessary ammunition, and giving them 
 instructions how to conduct themselves for the common safety 
 in this time of imminent danger. So faithful were they, that 
 they not only rejected the strong and repeated solicitations of the 
 the natives on the Main, but when any landed from it, in obe- 
 dience to the orders which had been given them, they carried 
 them, though some of them were their near relations, before the 
 Governor to attend his pleasure. The English, convinced by 
 these proofs of the fumness of their friendship, took no care of 
 their own defence, but left it entirely to the Indians; and the 
 storm of war which raged on the continent was not suffered to 
 approach, but these islands enjoyed the calm of peace. This 
 was the genuine and happy effect of Mr. Mayhew's wisdom, and 
 of the introduction of the christian religion among the Indians. 
 
 M By the charter of William and Mary, which arrived in 
 
THE CLERGY. 37 
 
 1692, these islands were taken from New-York, and annexed 
 to Massachusetts. During the season of anarchy and confusion 
 which preceded this event, the Indians behaved in a peaceable 
 manner ; and on one occasion in particular forbore to resent 
 the injuries which were inflicted on them by some of the Eng- 
 lish who were unrestrained by law and government." 
 
 In Edgartown there are two excellent private 
 schools, and upon the Island there are twelve or 
 thirteen places of worship. Four of these are in 
 Edgartown, several in Holmes' Hole, and the re- 
 mainder scattered here an d there 1 for the conven- 
 ience of the scattered population. Of course there 
 are not Clergyman connected with all of them, 
 though there are several in each of the villages. 
 Th ere- are three in Edgartown, a Baptist, Metho- 
 dist, and Orthodox Congregationalism The Baptist 
 is a missionary and preaches but occasionally in E. 
 Their salaries vary from 3 to 500 dollars at most. 
 Five hundred dollars however on the Island are as 
 good as seven on the main. The Islanders are 
 kind to their Clergymen and relieve them of some 
 expenses they would be subject to elsewhere. Their 
 generosity manifests itself in one item especially — 
 that of riding — which can hardly be considered an 
 expense here, for it is seldom, if ever, they can be 
 induced to take compensation. It was my good 
 fortune to become acquainted with the clergymen 
 of the several denominations, and it is no more than 
 justice to say — though, doubtless, as strongly attach- 
 ed to their peculiar views as those who bear the same 
 name in other parts of the country; they were courte- 
 4 
 
38 THE OLDEST CHURH. 
 
 ous and friendly. There was an air of openness and 
 kindness about them that seemed to me rather uncom- 
 mon, and put me almost immediately at my ease with 
 them. In intelligence, manners and conversation, as al- 
 so in their preaching, for I seized upon several oppor- 
 tunities of hearing them .they differ little from preach- 
 ers in other parts of this State. The time and occa- 
 sion of my first acquaintance with them were the 
 Fourth of July and a public dinner in celebration 
 thereof, to which (thanks to the Island patriots) we 
 were severally invited. This memorable occasion 
 must receive a passing notice hereafter. Yours. 
 
 LETTER VII. 
 
 Martha's Vineyard, 18 — . 
 
 Mr. Editor : — Having been absent some little 
 time, my communications have been necessarily in- 
 terrupted. With your favor I hope to send one or 
 two more ere they are brought to a close. 
 
 The oldest church in Edgartown is that consecra- 
 ted by the long and faithful ministry of Mr. Thaxter. 
 He was of the liberal school in Theology, was pas- 
 tor of the Society about forty-seven years, and lived 
 to be silvered over with age, not being gathered to 
 his fathers until he had reached the patriarchal peri- 
 od of more than four score years. He devoted him- 
 self to the good of his country as well as the cause 
 of his Master — serving as Chaplain in PrescotVs 
 
THE CHURCH-YARD AND PASTOR'S GRAVE. 39 
 
 Regiment during our revolutionary struggle. Many 
 of your readers may recollect the ancient and ven- 
 erable man as he appeared at the laying of the cor- 
 ner-stone of the Bunker-Hill Monument, when he 
 stood up in the presence of an assembled host and 
 offered a simple, fervent, and patriotic prayer. But 
 to return to the Church. It was built in 1768. 
 The style of architecture — to frame a new order — 
 is Quaker. It is situated a little out of the village 
 and is the first object, when approaching it, that at- 
 tracts attention. It is of large dimensions and with- 
 out a steeple. No part is painted but the roof, which 
 is of brick color. Of course with its broad paint- 
 less sides, relieved only by its reddish roof, it has a 
 somewhat grave and sombre aspect. This speci- 
 men of antiquity rears its venerable form in the cen- 
 tre of an oblong enclosure of considerable extent, 
 all of which with the exception of a path from the 
 gate to the Church-door is occupied with graves, 
 headstones, and monuments of various forms, dimen- 
 sions and appearance. Many aae of the purest and 
 most brilliantly white marble, whose letters are en- 
 graved so distinctly and perfectly that, it would 
 seem, they must defy the effacing finger of time. 
 These impart to this dwelling-place of the dead a 
 cheerful rather than a gloomy aspect. The vener- 
 acle Pastor of the Town reposes in the rear of the 
 Church just beneath the window of that pulpit in 
 which he served his Maker for such a succession of 
 years. A weeping-willow waves gracefully over a 
 
40 THE SANCTITY OF THE PLACE. 
 
 marble monument erected to his memory by his 
 children. At one extremity of the enclosure is a 
 straw-colored hearse-house — neat and appropriate 
 — recently built by a benevolent widow, daughter of 
 the departed worthy Pastor. This spot is the ob- 
 ject of sacred affections — of many sad as well as 
 sweet remembrances to her soul. Not a broken 
 pane of glass, nor a loose stone in the foundation of 
 the old Church escapes her eye. Ir is never suf- 
 fered to go to decay, and its hallowed precincts 
 though seldom trod, (for there has been no regular 
 preaching for the past nine years) are swept by her 
 own hands some three times every twelvemonth 
 and preserved sweet and clean. The strength and 
 sanctity of the associations which many an aged man 
 and aged woman cherish towards this consecrated 
 place, to which from early years on the Sabbath day 
 they have gone up to worship the Most High, it is 
 not for a stranger fully to comprehend. Still no 
 one, however insensible, can approach this ancient 
 pile and this city of the dead built up around it, where 
 in a long line of generations c the rude forefathers 
 of the hamlet sleep,' without the deepest feelings of 
 solemnity and veneration. 
 
 The interior of the Church accords well with the 
 exterior. All is simple and plain — in the taste of 
 the Puritans. The front of the galleries and pulpit, 
 with the sounding-board above, and the Deacons'" 
 seats below, are painted light blue. There is nought 
 else but what wears its natural color. A neat greea 
 
FOURTH OF JULY 41 
 
 curtain and a cushion of the like material adorn the 
 Pulpit. The first Sabbath I entered the Church it 
 was highly decorated with fir, spruce, and other ev- 
 er-greens, reminding one of the tabernacles of old 
 in the wilderness. The following day was the An- 
 niversary of our national independence ; and in this 
 place, on this sea-girt Island, it was to be celebrated. 
 I was invited to participate not only in the dinner 
 but in the other services, and to make my appear- 
 ance on Monday morning at the Inn, there to meet 
 the chief ones of the village and to join the proces- 
 sion. One or two revolutionary patriots — revered 
 wrecks of tempestuous times — were there. The 
 affecting narrative which one of them gave of his 
 sufferings and those of his comrades from hunger, 
 thirst, chronic pains and rheumatisms, brought on by 
 lying night after night on the cold ground without 
 covering, caused many a tear to trickle down his 
 weather -hardened and wrinkled cheek, and deeply 
 moved the hearts of all preseut. He assured us w 7 e 
 had no conception of the greatness of our blessings, 
 and urged us with thrilling eloquence to be true to 
 our country. The procession w 7 as shortly formed. 
 The delegation from the place, the two school-mas- 
 ters, and the four members of the clergy walked in 
 its honored places, while two individuals bearing 
 staffs on which floated our national banner led the 
 way. We threaded several sandy streets beneath a 
 sweltering sun — a solemn, pre-eminently noiseless 
 
 train -a- without c stirring fife or pealing drum.' Still 
 4# 
 
42 AT EDGARTOWN. 
 
 there was a music within, and our souls were pledg- 
 ed to do our best to celebrate our country's glory, 
 yes, literally pledged — full six of us — the Senator 
 of Duke's County to pronounce the oration — the 
 School-masters, one to repeat the Declaration of 
 Independence, the other to enliven us with the ef- 
 fervescence of his poetical fancy — the oldest of 
 the Clergy, who was a Baptist Missionary, to ad- 
 dress the throne of the Almighty — the Trinitarian 
 and Unitarian Ministers to perform an equal part, 
 each to peruse in the best manner an original Hymn, 
 and though last, not least, our Methodist brother to 
 put the finale to the chapter of services and cere- 
 mories by the solemn benediction. 
 
 This sub-division of labor was as it should be but 
 it had a little touch of the amusing about it. We 
 entered the church and took our seats amid the beau- 
 ty, pride and patriotism of this simple, true-hearted 
 people. All passed off cheeringly. The Oration 
 was worthy of its author, and the Poem would have 
 done credit to a practised and well-known hand at the 
 art. This part of our duty done, we repaired to the 
 Inn to partake of a generous dinner. Not a few mer- 
 ry toasts were cracked and, though wine passed 
 round, many abstained, and all rose from the table 
 self possessed and undeceived thereby. A happier 
 Independent day, not even in my boyhood, has it 
 been my lot to enjoy. Of itself it was worth a trip 
 to the Island. Perhaps a few extracts from the 
 Poem may be interesting to your readers ; — 
 
THE POEM. 43 
 
 ** Forever consecrated be the day, 
 When freemen ross, and with heroic sway, 
 Plucked the rich laurel from Britannia's brow, 
 And quelled that foe who thought to rule us now ; 
 When Ireeborn sons, who were inured to toil, 
 Charmed with the beauties of Columbia's soil, 
 Rose in fall might, in martial pomp arrayed, 
 Feared not their foes, but grasped theglec-ming blade. 
 Though Britain's lion gave a hideous roa;, 
 Columbia's Eagle drove him from the sho e. 
 
 ***** 
 
 He led our Joshua thiough the tented fie'd, 
 And spread in front his everlasting shield. 
 Met hinks I hear our patriot fathers cry, 
 " We will be free, or in the fie'd we'll die." 
 Bold chivalry then flowed from heart 10 heavt, 
 And fi.ed their souls with more than magic art ; 
 When Britain's king gave forth the stern command — 
 " Go conquer and subdue that rebel land ;" 
 Columbia's sons then rose with fearless might, 
 They grasped the sword, they hastened to the fight, 
 Their worh they left, ihey ceased to trace the plough 
 Bushed to the field where richer laurels grow. 
 There honored fame slnll meet her just applause, 
 There patriot sons repel pernicious laws ; 
 There freeborn men demand an equal right, 
 
 And dare their foes upon the field of fight. 
 ***** 
 
 Columbia, pause ! waep o'er th' illustrious dead ! 
 Who fought for freedom, and to conquest led ; 
 Who dared the tempest, who the storm defied, 
 But who now rests by Vernon's rolling tide. 
 Here no proud abbey boasts the exclusive praise, 
 Nor c'aims the relics of my feeble lays ; 
 Nor shall the poppy fix its drowsy root, 
 Nor wormwood thrive, nor bearded thistle shoot 
 Around the grave where myriads oft repair, 
 
44 THE POEM. 
 
 To view the spot where lay their country's srre. 
 
 To sing his worth the muse has tuned her lyre, 
 
 To speak his praise the poets of aspire ; 
 
 Faint the description, feeble the design, 
 
 Should Pindar sing, or Homer trace the line. 
 
 The painter's canvass often has been spread, 
 
 To draw descriptions of th' illustrious dead, 
 
 Bat far they'd deviate from th' intended line, 
 
 Should Raphael's genius sketch the bold design : 
 
 Or should Titian his bright colors shed, 
 
 Or Guido's graces lavish on his head, 
 
 His deeds of valor memory still retains, 
 
 Reveres the man who burst a tyrant's chains. 
 
 Let other nations of their Csesars boast, 
 
 Of Charles, of Xerxes with his martial host, 
 
 Can Macedonia ask the muses' lyre, 
 
 While slaughtered millions round her chief expire ? 
 
 Can Rome and Carthage call her heroes good, 
 
 While earth is crimsoned with their soldiers' blood ? 
 
 Can France exalt the deeds of Bonaparte, 
 
 And sing his splendor and his warlike art 1 
 
 When, see ! ah see ! her hero rode to fame 
 
 O'er seas of blood and mangled heaps of slain. 
 
 But fates unseen reined up the mystic car — 
 
 Smote Europe's zone and burst Napoleon's star. 
 
 And where is he who came from Gallia's shore, 
 
 Saw our oppression, heard our cannon roar ; 
 
 Who wreathed a chaplet of immortal fame, 
 
 And richly won a philanthropic name ? 
 
 He, too, has gone to join his brave compeers, 
 
 Graced with high honors, crowned with many years. 
 
 And where areGREKN,MoNTGOMERY,LEEandGATEs 
 
 Who bowed the lion to resistless fates ? 
 
 They, too, are gone : and but a few remain, 
 
 Who helped our fathers burst Britannia's chain. 
 
 And soon the muffled drum or tolling bell. 
 
 Will .bid the last a long, a long farewe.U;i 
 
THE POEM. 45 
 
 Ye aged sires ! who grace this festive scene, 
 Who bow to age, and o'er your staves recline, 
 Review that day, when proud oppression's wand 
 Extended wide o'er freedom's happy land ; 
 Can you forget the piteous piles of slain 
 On Bunker's height, or Lexington's broad plain ? 
 Tell to the youth the stories of our wars, 
 And plead the merits of our pat.iols' scars. 
 Ye patriot band ? whofought in days of yore, 
 And drove the oppressor from our verdant shore, 
 Long life and health, the sons of freedom cry, 
 Long life and health, the winds of heaven reofy. 
 When summoned by th' archangel's thrilling call, 
 On young Elishas may your mantles fall ; 
 May patriot zeal your youthful sons inspire, 
 And each prove worthy of his hono-ed sire. 
 ***** 
 
 Rise, Bethlehem's star ! beam forth with charms divine, 
 O'er pagan lands l«t thy refulgence shine ; 
 
 Let pure devotion touch the Hindoo's heart, 
 And from his idols may he soon depart ; 
 From heathen lands may songs of triumph rise, 
 To Him who built Earth, Oceans, Air and Skies. 
 May distant islands catcli the heavenly flame, 
 And tawny Indians own Jehovah's name. 
 On wings of faith ye heralds of the c.oss, 
 Go and refine th* gold from nature's dross ; 
 Instruct the heathen from the sacred Word, 
 " Lead them from nature up to nature's God." 
 ***** 
 
 While on this day ourcheerful hearts unite, 
 While songs of joy inspire us with delight ; 
 While liberal laws adorn our happy land, 
 And pure devotion makes our hearts expand, 
 Let us review the purchase of our fame, 
 Our Patriots' honor and our Tories' shame. 
 Say was our freedom with a trifle bought 7 
 
46 THE POEM. 
 
 That Patriots bled, say does it matter not? 
 View Bunker's heights,and Charlestown's flaming spires 
 View Monmouth's plains, where fell our houored sires; 
 ***** 
 
 Then since our land was bought with streams of blood, 
 Firm let us stand though tyrants round us brood; 
 Though round us kings their hellish gambols play, 
 
 As venomed vipers hiss around their prey, 
 Let us support the standard of our fame, 
 Nor sink, like Rome, mid whirlpools of her shame. 
 Ask, where is Rome, and where her warlike band, 
 Whose armies spread and conquered every land , 
 Whose eagle rose and eyed the solar fire, 
 With talons strong, with wings that never tire, 
 Whose classic charms inspire us with delight, 
 Illume the regions of barbaric night. 
 Ask you the cause why Rome's republic fell ? 
 
 The cause I'd ask, why Satan did rebel ? 
 Factions burst forth and demagogues arose, 
 Crushed the fair tree, overwhelmed the land in woes. 
 Thus Rome's republic, which forages stood, 
 Fell mid the flames, and sunk in seas of blood. 
 Ask, where is Carthage, Afric's pride and boast ? 
 When factions rose, her fame and all were lost ; 
 Oceans of blood were spilt along her shore, 
 And Afric's glory set to rise no more. 
 And Greece, that land where science shed her rays, 
 Where heroes fought, where poets tuned their lays, 
 Was veiled in gloom, and sunk before the blast, 
 Her fame, her glory, and her grandeur past. 
 But may that morning soon salute the skies, 
 When Grecian glory shall again arise, 
 When Grecian bards shall sing fair freedom's songs, 
 And independence thunder from their tongues. 
 ***** 
 
 Columbians, rise — mark well the fatal coast, 
 Where sunk republics and their glory lost ; 
 
THE POEM. 47 
 
 And shun those rocks which proved their final doom, 
 
 And sunk their fame beneath Egyptian gloom. 
 
 Let the last legacy of Washington, 
 
 Still be your chart and show the course to run ; 
 
 And may our helmsman with a steady hand, 
 
 Guide safe our bark o'er shoals of rock and sand. 
 
 Should civil wars or base contentions rise, 
 
 Should haughty tyrants freedom's charms despise, 
 
 Ye youthful band, rush, rush into the field, 
 
 With sword in hand, and make those despots yield. 
 
 Quell your invaders — put your foes to flight — 
 
 March to the field and breast the deadly fight. 
 
 Were Homer's verse familiar to my tongue, 
 
 Or had I strains like those which Pindar sung, 
 
 And could my voice like Sinai's thunder roar, 
 
 Fair Freedom's charms should sound from shore to shore, 
 
 Till thrones of despots totter to the ground, 
 
 And mighty empires tremble at the sound. 
 
 And may that God, whose hand the lightnings form, 
 Who hurls the tempest, who directs the storm ; 
 Who bade the world from nature's embryo rise, 
 Whose wisdom built, whose fiat starred the skies ; 
 At whose command the nations rise and fall, 
 Whose will directs, whose power governs all ; 
 May He extend the sceptre of his love, 
 Our strong defence, our mighty bulwark prove. 
 Almighty God ! protect this favored land, 
 Guide, guard, and shield it by thy sovereign hand ; 
 WTiile sun's arise, or briny oceans roar, 
 Or bounding billows lash the rock-bound shore : 
 Let this Republic ever stand secure, 
 Till nations cease and time shall be no more." 
 
 Certain four-footed, short-legged, taper-nosed, 
 squirrel-tailed, black and white, unsavory creatures, 
 the name of which it would be useless to mention 
 after so minute description, have been frequent 
 
48 UGLY TENANTS. 
 
 attachees of the barn-yards and houses ol the Island' 
 ers. They fared so well, became so populous aud 
 formidable, committed such extensive devastations, 
 and withal got at length into such bad odour with the 
 good-hea:ted, pure-minded people of Edgartown, 
 that a bounty of 25 cents was offered for every one 
 thai should be despatched to that 4 bourne whence 
 no traveller returns.' They disappeared rapidly 
 and became so rare and seldom troublesome that 
 some were half ready to lament their loss, and al- 
 most wished their old and misused friends back 
 again : 
 
 Ttodog xa£ xccv.gjv ao y v tic, 
 
 xal ydq o fi-i]dafvi dij cpiXov r£v cpiXov. 
 
 [CEdipus Tyr annus. 1 
 Such persons were conscious of a change, a want. 
 They felt that all was not right, and began to con- 
 template their violent extermination with emotions 
 of melancholy regret, similar to those cherished to- 
 wards the unhappy Indian tribes. These animals 
 differ considerably in their tastes, some conceiving 
 an attachment to private, others to public buildings, 
 some to house-cellars, others to barns, sheds, &c. 
 There is one however whose taste is somewhat dif- 
 ferent from that of his tribe. His predominant sen- 
 timent, or biggest bump is veneration. He has been 
 for years a strong adherent to the church. He has 
 no occasion to repair to its sacred enclosure one 
 day in seven, for he is seldom anywhere else. The 
 undisturbed sanctity of the place seems to have for 
 
A TARTAR. 49 
 
 him peculiar attractions. Now and then he has 
 made excursions into the neighborhood to disturb 
 the pure and fragrant enjoyment of some pleasant 
 hamlet. Generally he has made choice of the prem- 
 ises of a certain Captain around which he has 
 
 diffused the atmosphere of his peculiar genius with 
 so much generosity, and produced thereby such a 
 pungent, irritating action upon the martial temper as 
 well as olfactories of the commander, as to rouse him 
 to a well-appointed and vigorous attack upon the in- 
 truder. Success has generally attended the bold 
 and perilous enterprize of the Captain against this 
 annoying and odious tenant. The Church has been 
 his most quiet abode — his city of refuge. The 
 pulpit, as it were, his citadel ; for beneath it has 
 been his place of rest. Here he has revelled in 
 sweets all his own, and yet not all his own, for ma- 
 ny unfortunates have been compelled to participate. 
 He is a most unwelcome guest. It is not that he 
 is ever seen ; it is not that he is ever heard ; but 
 he is most sensibly perceived — as the horse snuf- 
 feth the battle from afar — : how sensibly, let those 
 bear witness who have had experience. He is an 
 old covenanter. He was a pretty regular attend- 
 ant upon the ministry of the departed. The honest 
 Town's people, born and bred in the purest of at- 
 mospheres, have been wrought at times to a high 
 pitch of excitement and justifiable indignation. 
 Tongues have been busy and loud ; resolutions have 
 been passed by large majorities ; downright and vig- 
 
 5 
 
t>0 HARD CATCHING ONE. 
 
 orous measures have been takon ot expel the enemy. 
 By the assistance of boys hired to creep through the 
 loopholes of the granite underpinning, and with long 
 sticks to explore the broad ground-plot of the sa- 
 cred edifice, he has been forced to retreat with loss; 
 whether a gain to the pursuers may be a matter of 
 doubt. His hole was once discovered beneath the 
 flight of stairs that leads to the galleries. He was 
 furnished with leave of absence and his nest bounti- 
 fully tarred. Had he been taken in propria perso- 
 na, there is no doubt he would have been treated 
 by the enraged or highly incensed Islanders as a 
 genuine abolitionist," and not allowed to escape but 
 with a full suit of tar and feathers. He is again in 
 possession of his redoubt, bnt has taken a less preg- 
 nable position — beneath the pulpit and the dea- 
 cons' seats. When I left the Vineyard, he remain- 
 ed triumphant over all opposition, more redolent 
 and devoted to the Church than ever. What may 
 be lis fortune hereafter, or that of generations yet to 
 come who may assemble in this place of worship, 
 I am not prophet enough to foretell. 
 
 Yours. 
 
REV. JOSEPH THAXTER. 5l 
 
 LETTER VIII. 
 
 Martha's Vineyard, 18 — . 
 
 Mr. Joseph Thaxter, to whom I alluded in 
 my last letter, wa3 born in Hingham in the year 
 1744. He was in youth a cooper by trade. It is 
 reported of him that in consequence of good luck in 
 the purchase of a lottery ticket he was induced to 
 prepare himself lor college. He entered Cam- 
 bridge and was graduated in '6S. Either before or 
 after his Collegiate course he taught school in his 
 native town and w T ent by the title of Master Thax- 
 ter or Master Jo. Though he subsequently made 
 some advance in the study of medicine, he did not 
 give himself to its practice. Divinity became his 
 favorite pursuit and profession. He commenced 
 preaching in 1771 — and remained faithful to the cause 
 of his Master until removed by death in 1327, ape 
 riod of fifty -six years. In '76, he entered the army 
 as a chaplain. His commission to fill this station is 
 an interesting document : ■ — 
 
 COMMISSION. 
 
 The Council of the Colony of Massachusetts Bay to 
 Joseph Thaxter. Gentleman, Greeting. 
 
 We being informed of your exemplary life and manners, and 
 reposing especial trust in your abilities and good eonduct — do, 
 by these presents, constitute and appoint you, the said Joseph 
 Thaxier, to be Chaplain of the Regiment whereof John Robert- 
 son Esq. is Colonel, raised by this Colony to reinforce the 
 American Army until the first day of April next. You are 
 therefore carefully and diligently to inculcate on the minds of 
 the soldiers of said Regiment, a6 well by example as precept, 
 
52 
 
 the duties of religion and morality, and a fervent love to their 
 country, and in all respects to discharge the duty of a Chaplain 
 in said Regiment, observing from time to time such orders and 
 instructions as you shall receive from your superior officers ac" 
 cording to military rules and discipline established by the Amer- 
 ican Congress, in pursuance of the trust reposed in you, for 
 which this shall be your sufficient warrant. 
 
 Given under our hands and the seal of the said Colony at Wa- 
 tertown, the twenty-third day of Jan. 1776, in the sixteenth 
 year of the reign of his Majesty King George the Third. 
 
 By Command of the Major part of the Council, 
 
 Perez Morton, R. Secretary. 
 
 At the commencement ot the revolution, on the 
 19th April, '75, before his appointment as Chaplain, 
 he was at Concord bridge. Durirg the war he was 
 present as Chaplain at Cambridge and White Plains, 
 on the North River, and in New-Jersey until March 
 '71. In 'SO, he became Pastor of the Church in 
 Edgartown. His salary was originally £100. In 
 the latter part of his life it was reduced to $275. 
 There has been some difference of opinion particu- 
 larly on the Vineyard, as to the religious 
 views of Mr. T. He was unquestionably liberal. 
 To verify this assertion beyond a doubt a few pas- 
 sages will be subjoined, taken here and there from 
 his discourses, of which he wrote some twenty- 
 five hundred : 
 
 " Those who make Jesus Christ and the great eternal Jeho- 
 vah the Same being, take away my Saviour — 1 cannot find him 
 in their books — but I bless God I can find Him in my Bible." 
 
 s< To think well of his nature is necessary to the dignity and 
 happiness of man. There is a decent pride which is congenial 
 to virtue. That consciousness of innate dignity which shows 
 
EXTRACTS FROM HIS SERMONS. 53 
 
 him the glory of his nature will be his best protection from the 
 meanness of vice. Where this consciousness is wanting, there 
 can be no sense of moral honor, and consequently none of the 
 higher principles of action. What can you expect from him 
 who says it is his nature to be mean and selfish 1 and who can 
 doubt that he who thinks thus, thinks from the experience ofh's 
 own heart, from the tendency of his own inclinations. Let it 
 always be remembered, that he who would persuade men to be 
 good, ought to show. them that they are great. We may ven- 
 ture to affirm that a bad heart and a truly philosophic head have 
 never been united in the same individual. Vicious inclinations 
 not only corrupt the heart, but if indulged, darken the under- 
 standing, and in this way lead to false reasoning. Virtue alone 
 is on the side of truth. No man will take pains to practice vir- 
 tue who has not a high sense of the dignity of his nature, and 
 the worth of his precious and immortal soul. The more we 
 contemplate the dignity of man as a rational and immortal being, 
 the higher sense we shall have of the worth of our souls, and 
 the greater and the more irresistible will be our motives to the 
 practice of virtue and religion. W T e shall fear to degrade our- 
 selves by base and vile actions. It is the practice of piety and 
 virtue that dignifies and exalts human nature. It gives the mind 
 an elevation above the vain and empty pleasures of this vain and 
 transitory life. It raises it to contemplate scenes of future bliss 
 in the heavenly world, where disrobed of mortality, the rough 
 passions, and craving appetites that now war against our happi- 
 ness, we shall be raised to the highest dignity, partake of angel- 
 ic joys and drink of rivers of pleasure that flow at God's right 
 hand forevermore." 
 
 ." May I never be led to judge a brother or send him to hell 
 for what I may think an error. He may be right and I wrong. 
 Let the error be on which side it may, he that judgeth is guilty of 
 a much greater error, by a wilful violation of the law of Christ." 
 
 Oct. 9th, 1772. "In the beginning God made man in his 
 own Image, that is, in a small degree of similitude ; for he was 
 created a free, rational, moral agent, and was exempt from the 
 Dollutionof sin and guilt. He had an immortal soul, furnished 
 
354 HIS INDUSTRY. 
 
 with noble faculties and powers, but being left to act freely, he 
 fell from his original rectitude, not by a fata! necessity, nor by a 
 decree that he should fall. For if it was, then man could not, 
 had it not in his power to stand, and if so, then, he could not 
 be blame-worthy, or condemned therefor. If man fell by a fa- 
 tal necessity he was nothing more than a machine or instrument, 
 and these are not chargeable with the actions which are done 
 with them. The agent that exercises the instrument is charge- 
 able with the action ; for example, tho knife with which a man 
 is stabbed is not guilty of murder, but the man who made use of 
 it is justly chargeable with the crime. So then if man fel* 
 through necessity he could not be guilty, but that power which 
 laid him under the necessity, which could he no other than his 
 Creator, which is making God the author of sin, which is con- 
 trary to his being and perfections. For God to be the author of 
 sin, would be to destroy himself. I trust there are none pres- 
 ent who would be so weak and profane as to charge God as 
 being the author of the sins which are committed by them. No- 
 Let God be just but every mm a liar." 
 
 Mr. T. was a very industrious man. He not on* 
 ly wrote his twenty-five hundred -sermons — which 
 one would think enough for a man to do in the 
 course -of a life however long — but beside the oth- 
 er avocations of a minister, as he told a friend, 'he 
 did one fifth of the work of his house from the bot- 
 tom of the cellar to the top of the chimnies, made 
 his own water-pails and even hollowed the staves 
 with a bent razor.' 
 
 He was in the habit for many years, of walking 
 from E. to Holmes' Hole, a distance of eight miles, 
 to preach a lecture on Sunday evening, and of cross- 
 ing to the Island of Chappequiddick one evening of 
 each week for a like purpose. 
 
SIMPLICITY OF LIFE. *£ 
 
 At one time lie was the only clergyman and phy- 
 sician on the Island. Mr. T. read much, especial- 
 ly in the ancient tongues. His Greek, Testament 
 he perused every day. His counsel to young cler- 
 gymen was — always consult your Greek Testa- 
 ment before you sit down to writea sermon. When 
 it is considered that he was ever subject to parox- 
 ysms of sickhead-ache and was rendered useless 
 by their frequency and severity for no less than a 
 fourteenth part of his whole life — six entire years 
 — it must be acknowledged that he accomplished 
 wonders. Incredible as it may seem, he was absent 
 from his pulpit but five Sabbaths on account of sick- 
 ness through his whole ministry of forty-seven ) r ears. 
 He n:u>t have led a very simple life, if his practice 
 accorded with his preaching, for it was a maxim of 
 his, that ' brown bread and black (i.e. bohea) tea 
 were good enough for ministers.' Many pleasant 
 anecdotes are related of Mr. T. some of which, as 
 I have made a beginning, I will throw together in 
 this connection as they have been communicated to 
 me by those who best knew him. 
 
 Years ago Dr. B. was on the Island. He and 
 Mr. T. met and were introduced at the house of a 
 mutual friend. 'This is Mr. Thaxter, educated at 
 Cambridge and therefore, I conclude, a Unitarian,' 
 said the Dr. 'I profess to be,' was the reply. 'Ve- 
 ry sorry to hear it,' rejoined the Dr. 'Bad doc- 
 trine, Sir, bad doctrine ; not Scriptural, Sir, not 
 Scriptural.' 'This is Dr.Beecher fromConnecticutj' 
 
5Q DR. BEE CHER. 
 
 resumed Mr. T. 'and therefore, I conclude, a Trini- 
 tarian. ' I hope so, 5 replied the Dr. ' Very sorry to 
 hear it, 'rejoined Mr. T. ' Bad doctrine, Sir, bad 
 doctrine ; not Scriptural, Sir, not Scriptural.' 
 
 Dr. B. was very free with Mr. Thaxter and ask- 
 ed him a great many questions about doctrinal sub- 
 jects. 'Now,' says Mr.T.'I have answered you in 
 the simplicity and integrity ol my heart and given you 
 exactly my views on many points. I hope you will 
 be as ready to answer some questions that I will put 
 to you.' 'I will endeavor to,' replied the Dr. ' Can 
 you tell me then what is the meaning of these words, 
 ' ye which have followed me in the regeneration^ 
 when the Son of man shall sit in the throne of his 
 glory.' ' The Dr. paused and at length acknowledged 
 — he could not tell. 'What,' said Mr. T. not un- 
 derstand the meaning when the word is used here 
 for the first time in Scripture and is the foundation 
 of all your preaching ?' 'I never had any particular 
 thoughts on this passage,' said the Dr. ' Never,' re- 
 joined Mr. T. 'I am surprized.' Said the Dr. 'will 
 you tell me what you think is the meaning ?' ' No,' 
 sir, was the reply, if you don't know, you had bet- 
 ter go home and study your Testament.' In conver- 
 sation with him at this time or afterwards, Mr. T. 
 used nearly these words : ' There are a few of my 
 flock left about me — families which I have visited 
 in sickness and sorrow — children, whom I have pre- 
 sented in baptism at the altar and if you have come, 
 said he, with strong emotion ? to draw them away 
 
ANECDOTES. 57 
 
 and embitter the days of an old man, you ought to 
 hang your head for shame.' 
 
 Some one on the Island dislocated his limb. Mr.- 
 T. who always had the reputation of being the best 
 bone-setter on the Island, put it in place. ' What is 
 to pay, asked his relieved patient.' He replied — 
 * if rich — seventy-five cents ; if poor - — nothing. ' 
 
 A friend once asked him why he wrote such la- 
 bored sermons, when his people would be satisfied 
 with those far inferior. His reply deserves to be 
 written in letters of gold : ' Would you have me go 
 into the sanctuary with unbeaten oil or a worthless 
 offering ?? 
 
 To a friend who was going out of town said Mr- 
 T., ' you had better take your cloak. 'Why, Sir,' 
 said his friend, c it is fair weather.' 'Take your cloak 
 m fair weather,' rejoined Mr. T.; c any fool would 
 take it in foul.' 
 
 Speaking to his wife about his parishioners, he 
 said, l If they give you anything, wife, take it and 
 thank them. \( they offer me a fish, though I have 
 plenty, I take it and thank them, and on my way 
 home toss it into the first pool.' He used to say to 
 himself : c Be careful now Mr. Thaxter, and don't 
 preach for money,' and he satisfied himself that he 
 did not as he was quite as contented with a salary 
 of $275 as with £100. 
 
 One of the deacons of his church was asked by 
 some individual what he thought of the weather — 
 what he considered the prospect. C I hardly know,' 
 
58 BENEVOLENCE AND SUCCESS AS A PREACHER. 
 
 replied the deacon, 'for I am not very weather-wise.' 
 Mr.T. being in company, subjoined : 'No, nor much 
 otherwise.' 
 
 Mr. Thaxter was a man of a good deal of natural 
 eloquence and gifted in prayer. An evidence of the 
 latter is a singular fact told me by one of his broth- 
 ers in the ministry. He was present at an ordina- 
 tion some where in the southern part of the State, 
 and though not a member of the Council convened 
 to take a part in the exercises, he was unanimously 
 requested, contrary to all usage, to take that part 
 which constitutes the essence of the rite, viz : the 
 ordaining prayer. 
 
 Mr. T. was a very benevolent man. I have been 
 informed that not seldom he has got up at midnight 
 and crossed to the Island of Chappequiddick to vis- 
 it the sick, and that when he has been down in 
 Town, (for he lived on the outskirts thereof) and 
 filled his basket with vegetables and more substan- 
 tial things, he has stopped on his return to see this 
 and that family of his parish, and ere he has reached 
 home many time has found his basket empty. 
 
 Mr. Thaxter was settled as Pastor not only of a 
 congregation, but of the Town. One would have 
 no doubt of it from the size of the old Church. He 
 was very successful in the ministry. The first year 
 he added 53 to the Church and baptised 147. Af- 
 ter some years however the unity and peace of his 
 society were broken. The love for sects inherent 
 in human nature occasioned the rise of several 
 
PRAYER AT CONSECRATION 59 
 
 within his territorial Parish. All Israel however 
 were not backsliders. Many clung to him as strong- 
 ly as he clung to them. The simple annals of his 
 ministry can afford of course but little variety. To- 
 wards the latter part of his life, on the Seventeenth 
 of June, 1825, he was present at the laying of the 
 corner-stone of the Bunker-Hill Monument and of- 
 fered a simple and solemn prayer of consecration- 
 I have it in his very words, and send it to you, as 
 U seems to me worthy of preservation. He was at 
 this time over eighty hears of age : 
 
 PRAYER. 
 
 O, thou who rulest in the armies of Heaven and doest what- 
 soever seemest to thee good among the children of men below, 
 we desire at this time to remember thy loving kindness to our 
 pious ancestors in rescuing them from a land of intolerance and 
 persecution. We thank thee that thou didst conduct them in 
 safety through the mighty deep to this then howling wilderness, 
 that thou didst protect and defend them when few and helpless. 
 We thank thee that, by thy blessing on their endeavors and 
 labors, the wilderness was seon made to blossom like the rose. 
 We thank thee that thou didst animate them with an invincible 
 attachment to religion and liberty — that they adopted such wise 
 institutions. We thank thee that they so early established our 
 University, from which have flowed such streams as have made 
 glad the cities of onr God ; that thou hast raised up of our own 
 sons, wise, learned, and brave to guide in the gret»t and impor- 
 tant affairs both of church and state. May thy blessing rest on 
 that Seminary and continue it for a name and praise as long as 
 sun and moon shall endure. We thank thee that by the wis- 
 dom and fortitude of our fathers every attempt to infringe our 
 rights and privileges were defeated, and that we were never in 
 bondage to any. We thank thee that when our country was 
 invaded by the armies of the mother country, thou didst raise 
 
60 OF BUNKER-HILL MONUMENT. 
 
 up wise counsellors and unshaken patriots, who at the risk of 
 life and fortune not only defended our country, but raised it to the 
 rank of a nation among the nations of the earth. We thank thee 
 that thou hast blessed us with a constitution of government 
 which, if duly administered, secures to all, high and low, rich 
 and poor, their invaluable rights and privileges. We ask thy 
 blessing on our President and Congress — on our Governors and 
 Legislators, on our Judges and all our civil officers. Make them, 
 we beseech thee, ministers of God for good to thy people. Bless 
 the ministers of the Gospel and make them happy instruments 
 in thine hands of destroying Satan's kingdom and of building up 
 the Redeemer's. We thank thee that in thy good providence 
 we are assembled to lay the foundation of a monument, not for 
 the purpose of idolatry, but a standing monument to the rising 
 and future generations, that they may be excited to search the 
 history of our country and learn to know the greatness of thy 
 loving-kindness to our nation. May the service of this day be 
 performed under the most profound awe of thy glorious Majesty 
 and be an acceptable sacrifice. We thank thee for the unpar- 
 alelled progress and improvement in arts and sciences, in agri- 
 culture and manufactures, in navigation and commerce, where- 
 by our land has become the glory of all lands. We thank thee 
 that the light which came from the East, and has enlightened 
 this Western world is now reflected back and that the nations 
 of Europe are now learning lessons of wisdom from our infant 
 nation. We pray thee that these rays may be spread and shine 
 with greater power until the rod of oppression shall be broken 
 through the whole world and all mankind become wise and free 
 and happy. We humbly ask and offer all is the name of Jesus 
 Christ, our great and glorious Mediator, through whom be glory 
 unto God the Father now and forever — Amen. 
 
 Not long after this event, in 1827, well stricken 
 in years — the snow-white hairs of above four-score 
 winters playing around his venerable head — he was 
 taken hence like a shock of corn gathered in its sea* 
 
LIBERAL CHRISTIANITY. 61 
 
 son. The highest praise can be awarded to Mr. 
 Thaxter, that of being a good and holy man to the 
 close of his lengthened life. He stood the test of 
 our Saviour's ordeal, enduring unto the end. As he 
 lived — so he died. His last words were memora- 
 ble and inspiring. ' My faith is unshaken, my hope 
 is unclouded.' On the marble monument erected 
 to his memory by his children it is beautifully said, 
 c Full of the hope of a blessed immortality, he 
 sweetly fell asleep in Jesus.' He has left an im- 
 pression of himself that will not soon be obliterated. 
 His virtues yet speak with eloquent effect : 
 
 " Ev'n in his ashes live their wonted fires." 
 
 A few words more before I close this letter. 
 
 It is a natural subject of inquiry what the prospect 
 is for the formation of a liberal Society in Edgar- 
 town. It has been observed that there are but fif- 
 teen hundred inhabitants in E. and already three So- 
 cieties. Two of these may be said to be flourish- 
 ing. Of course the prospect for another cannot be 
 very encouraging. There are however a great ma- 
 ny Unitarians in the place. Originally they were 
 the parishioners of Mr. Thaxter, but since his death 
 they have become joined unto idols. There are a 
 few who have ever been ' faithful found among the 
 faithless,' and they are some of the most respecta- 
 ble and influential people in the place. These to- 
 gether with a sprinkling from every denomination, 
 Baptists, Methodists, Orthodox, and Universalists 
 
62 LIBERAL CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 constituted my audience, in number an hundred and 
 fifty. This was the consequence of holding the af- 
 ternoon service at 3 o'clock and sometimes as late 
 as 6, after the hour of tea — for every meal is serv- 
 ed earlier in Edgartown than on the main ; in sum- 
 mer, breakfast at 6, dinner at 12, and supper at half 
 past 4 or 5. 
 
 In Spring an effort will be made to rekindle the 
 embers of what we consider the true faith and, 
 whether very successful or not, a clergyman maybe 
 sure of a fair support as long as he perseveres in the 
 good cause. We hope they will not have reason 
 to be discouraged and that Zion will arise, her light 
 shine, and unto her many people be gathered. 
 
 Here, Mr. Editor, I take occasion to thank you 
 for your indulgence, and bring my communications, 
 — unexpectedly become a series, — to a close. 
 
 Yours. 
 
63 
 
 DOWN EAST. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Gardiner — Ilalloicell — Augusta — Bangor, Its 
 Climate — Character of the Inhabitants. A Ser- 
 mon long enough in all conscience. Religious 
 Meetings. Eastward in a Packet. Gloucester 
 — Us beauty seen from the Bay. Great Disap- 
 ment. Adventure on an Island in Portland Har- 
 bor. A Stone Church at Sea. Hard Luck. 
 
 In the fall of 1833, I made my first excursion 
 down East. My first point of destination was Gar- 
 diner on the Kennebec. I had been informed that 
 a preacher was much wanted in this place and had 
 been urged to go and see what could be done for the 
 formation of a liberal Society. Accordingly I took 
 letters of introduction and went down. Every as- 
 surance had been given that there would be no lack 
 of heart, or means. By the advice of those who 
 best know what advice to give, I took up my abode 
 at the public house of the Town. Here J remain- 
 ed for several weeks — preaching one Sabbath eve- 
 ning in the Episcopal church — the next in the 
 Methodist — afterwards during the day in the Lyceum 
 Hall, and always to respectable audiences. I made 
 many acquaintances, visited much, and was very 
 hospitably treated. Much interest, I was led to be- 
 lieve, had been excited in the cause of liberal Chris- 
 tianity, but in consequence of the strong influence 
 exerted by a single Episcopalian family of much 
 
64 GARDINER BANGOR. 
 
 worth, not an individual could be found who had 
 courage enough to put himself foremost in the cause 
 of what he believed to be truth. Perceiving what 
 turn things would take, or rather that they would take 
 no turn, but remain as they were, wisdom sugges- 
 ted to me to settle up my bills for board, room, fre, 
 attendance, et cetera, before they mounted up be- 
 yond my reach, and betake myself to another sphere. 
 This I did at once, carrying with me this morceau 
 of useful experience, that though the ' workman may 
 be worthy of his meat ' he does not always get it, 
 and that there is such a thing as c going a warfare 
 at one's own charges. ' Passing through those lovely 
 Towns on the beautiful Kennebec — Hallowell and 
 Augusta — my next point of destination was Bangor, 
 where I remained four weeks. 
 
 Bangor is not a very striking city. I describe it 
 with its latest improvements having been there with- 
 in a few months. It is situated on either bank of 
 the Kenduskeag (a river emptying into the Penob- 
 scot) and on the western bank of the latter. The 
 Banks of the Kenduskeag are bold and precipitous, 
 and as slippery after a rain as soft clay can make 
 them. The streets are irregular and the houses, 
 with a few exceptions, display no particular architec- 
 tural taste. Formerly they were here and there 
 and everywhere, and had the appearance, as was 
 quaintly said by some one, of having been shaken 
 from a pepper-box. Of late there has been much 
 improvement, 
 
CHARACTER OP THE INHABITANTS. 6-5 
 
 The first day I was there — the Sabbath — in- 
 quired after the state of the Thermometer and learned 
 to my astonishment that it was 10 below zero. This 
 circumstance however is not worthy of notice. It 
 is the trifle of trifles. For the mercury has the fin- 
 est of sport here. Its race-course is the longest in 
 the States. In the Summer it runs to 96 degrees 
 or more above, and in Winter to S9 degrees below 
 zero. The evening air is fearfully penetrating. A 
 smart gymnastic trot was the only expedient by 
 which I could keep myself from being chilled to ice. 
 
 The Bangoreans are intelligent, enterprising and 
 ambitious as every body knows. They are geneiv 
 ous and hospitable. They make money without 
 much effort, and spend it freely. Light come — 
 light go. They are fond of display. The chasten- 
 ed and refined tastes of some cf the older cities, 
 Boston and Philadelphia, have not yet been reached. 
 This is not to be expected in a city of sudden 
 growth. Though this remark is true of the city as 
 such, there are many well educated, polished, and ex- 
 cellent families. The social circle, however, is yet in 
 an unformed, unamalgarnated state. Reader, have you 
 never been to this city of the East ? There is a 
 spectacle you have yet to witness — a Bangorean 
 riding through the streets. To say that he rides 
 faster than the Bostonian, New-Yorker, or Phila- 
 delphia!!, would be saying little — would be doing 
 him manifest injustice. His velocity has not yet 
 been calculated. You must get a glimpse of him 
 '6* 
 
66 A LONG SERMON. 
 
 as he passes you, if you can, and judge for yourself. 
 The Bangoreans are proud of their city, and indeed 
 they deserve much credit for their unexampled en- 
 terprize and unwearied energy. Still one cannot 
 but think they are inclined to cherish an overween- 
 ing estimate of themselves. They have been in- 
 toxicated, and no wonder they should be, with un- 
 exampled success. They will however grow sober 
 betimes, if they have not become so already. 
 
 The Lyceum could not be made to flourish a few 
 years ago. It is otherwise now I believe. This 
 small fact is an indication of seme re-action from en- 
 tire absorption in business in favor of intellectual cul- 
 tivation, and attention to science and literature. 
 
 The first week I was in the city my mind was 
 much perplexed upon the subject of the Atonement 
 to which I had devoted more attention than usual. 
 The more I studied, the more obscure and unsatis- 
 factory were my views. After unwearied examina- 
 tion and reflection, my anxiety was relieved towards 
 the close of the week, and it occurred to me that it 
 would be an useful effort to preach an extempora- 
 neous sermon on the subject, the afternoon of the 
 approaching Sabbath. I prepared myself, putting 
 on paper a few notes to help my memory, and when 
 the hour arrived went into the desk, fearing I should 
 be brought to a full stop in a very few minutes. But 
 let the consequence be what it might, my determi- 
 nation was fixed to trust myself (and it was the first 
 time) to a few scanty notes. I began. My sub- 
 
RELIGIOUS MEETINGS. 67 
 
 ject, as I proceeded, enlarged before my vision. It 
 had occupied my attention so much the previous 
 week and I felt the importance of it so deeply that, 
 if ever, I was then enthusiastic. The passage of 
 time I did not realize. The current of my thoughts 
 flowed on — on — until the short day of Winter be- 
 gan to decline. Some went to the Post-Office and 
 returned with letters and papers. Ladies' gloves, 
 accidentally dropped upon the pew floor, could not 
 be discovered in the darkness that began to gather 
 fastand thick. This latter fact I do not take upon 
 me to vouch for, having received it by tradition 
 from others. One thing, however, I can vouch for, 
 that the homily, for godly length, would have done no 
 discredit to a full bottomed wig of the last century, 
 measuring an hour and twenty minutes. Some af- 
 firmed it a deal longer — near two hours. But kind 
 reader, beware how you believe everything that ev- 
 erybody says. You have my word for it that th s is 
 an extravagancy, a foul aspersion, a hyperbolical vi- 
 tuperation of the Bangoreans. However I never 
 expect to hear the last of my ' Bangor Sermon,' as 
 it is called. 
 
 During the four weeks I remained in the city, re- 
 ligious meetings were held in one church or another 
 the whole time — night and day. Some diseases 
 prevailed extensively and created considerable 
 stlarm, erysipelas and puerperal fever. By these 
 many were sent to their long home, and clerical du- 
 ties became somewhat trying. The religious meet- 
 
C3 EASTWARD IN A PACKET. 
 
 ings,I understood, originated, in part, in consequence 
 ol the fatality of these complaints. Liberal Chris- 
 tianity, notwithstanding much opposition, was flour- 
 ishing and has continued to flourish more and more. 
 — On the whole there is much to like in the Ban- 
 goreans, and their thriving city. 
 
 My return to Boston and, after a few months, 
 second visit to the East, furnish nothing of interest. 
 My third visit however must not be passed over in 
 silence. Having heretofore tried other modes of 
 journeying I was persuaded to try, with a friend, 
 a passage in one of the best Belfast Packets — the 
 Comet. With such a name, no wonder we were 
 tempted within the sphere of its influence. , and c a ugl 'it 
 within its sweeping trail. We expected of course 
 to leave the steamboat an infinite distance in the 
 rear ; to advance with a velocity hardly to be 
 brought within the limits of measurement. Our 
 freight was the fall and winter goods of eastern tra- 
 ders, and our passengers some thirty in number. 
 The wind had been contrary for a week, and the 
 passengers who, almost every hour of every day, 
 went down the wharf to talk with the Capt. about 
 starting, had become extremely uneasy, and at length 
 were for putting out— wind or no wind. The 
 Captain reasoned with them, and refused for a long 
 time, but unfortunately after much solicitation yield- 
 ed ; and now behold us at sunset — our anchors 
 weighed and sails set — going out of Boston Har- 
 bor ! The Captain saw no prospect of a wind,bu,t 
 
AN UNCOMFORTABLE NIGHT. 69 
 
 the passengers thought the wind must to a certainty 
 have nearly blown itself out, and would veer short- 
 ly. — 7 o'clock. The city vanished — the shades 
 of night all around us — the starred robe of Heaven 
 unrolled and flinging an uncertain light upon our 
 path — the ship under full sail and with a smart 
 breeze dashing with rapid course through the dark 
 and troubled waters. The old seaman at the helm 
 as tranquil as the planet Jupiter. For myself — 
 though I had been much on the water — not alto- 
 gether so calm. Not seeing distinctly the ship's 
 length ahead, what marvel if my fancy conjured up 
 the dreadful scene of our being run down and in a 
 moment sinking into the abyss of waters. That 
 night was a disturbed, dismal night. Towards day- 
 light, worn down with sleeplessness and anxiety, I 
 resolved to get upon deck. The vessel rolled so 
 awfully that I was nigh giving up in despair. At 
 length I succeeded ; and now look around with me. 
 Not a speck of land in sight — 80 miles from an- 
 chorage — the wind still dead ahead and impetuous 
 — the crested waves swelling to mountains' height 
 and coming towards us, apparently, with fell intent 
 to bury us forever'— our bark — the beautiful and 
 rapid bird of the seas — bounding, quivering, and 
 screaming in the blast — disappointment and doubt 
 (but no fearfulness) marked on every countenance. 
 A council was held upon the quarter deck and the 
 result was to make for the nearest and most conven- 
 ient harbor, The sun had nearly descended the 
 
70 GLOUCESTER. 
 
 horizon before we were greeted with the welcome 
 sight of the port of Gloucester. From our position 
 — two miles down the bay — it has an uncommonly 
 fine appearance. Wearied and sick, having had 
 nothing that could be called sleep, many of us anti- 
 cipated a blessed night of repose upon terra-firma, 
 in the motionless beds of a comfortable inn. We 
 were in high spirits, but alas! how soon depressed 
 even lower than before ! The wind, without our 
 knowledge, had changed to point more favorable, 
 and the clouds that skirted the horizon rose up- 
 wards and presented a broad track of golden light 
 to the eve. The weather-wise captain saw not in 
 vain. We stood gazing at the ranges of white houses 
 and the various steeples of the Town. Shortly the 
 word was passed from one to another that we were 
 going out to Sea. What so nigh the Town — 
 able to see into its very streets — and running away 
 from it ? We could not believe it. Our senses 
 must be deceived. But it proved too true. Grad- 
 ually the Town receded from us, and we could no 
 more trace its streets, or count its dwellings. Some 
 would have given anything to have landed upon one 
 of the islands in the harbor. But, no, our watch- 
 word was onward, and none of our regrets or com- 
 plaints restrained the progress of our leaping bark. 
 The night was more endurable than the last, but in 
 the morning we perceived we had made little head- 
 way. We were nearly opposite Old York. The 
 wind proved light and continued so through the day 
 
ADVENTURE ON AN ISLAND. 71 
 
 until night-fall, when a South-Easter with rain set 
 in, and the old seamen said we must make a har- 
 bor, as it would be dangerous to be out trying to 
 find our way in such squally weather. So we lay 
 our course for Portland. It was no easy thing to 
 discover the lights amid such rain and darkness. 
 At half past eleven o'clock we anchored three miles 
 from the city under the lee of an island in the har- 
 bor and about half a mile from the shore. The 
 captain feared to go up to the wharfs lest he should 
 run into some of the vessels. My companion and 
 myself were not satisfied with being where we were. 
 Though in calm water, we w r ere in the vessel and 
 must sleep in a birth with all its disagreeable associ- 
 ations. We resolved to see if we could not per- 
 suade the captain to put us on the shore of the island 
 in the boat. We inquired if there was any place 
 where we could get accommodations. He told us 
 there was and that it was common for passengers to 
 land for this purpose. Though the lain came down 
 in torrents he ordered his boat to be manned. It 
 w^as done. Our baggage was dropped in, and our- 
 selves followed. We were soon at the beach, 
 where we desired the seamen to remain until we 
 went to a house, where we could see a light, to as- 
 certain whether and where we could get lodging. 
 We were obliged to scramble up an almost perpen- 
 dicular clay bank of some fifty feet, covered with 
 shrubs and briars, down which streams of water, in- 
 finite in number, were running : 
 
72 GREAT DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 "Brook and brooklitig hurraing down." 
 
 And such a scramble, with umbrellas in hand too! 
 It seemed to me when I reached the summit, that 
 there was no part of me from the crown of my head 
 to the sole of my foot that had not received a thor- 
 ough scratching. No sooner had we set foot upon 
 the top of the bank than the taper seen in the cot- 
 tage at a little distance was extinguished. It was 
 now twelve o'clock, and we felt assured that all the 
 inmates had retired. Conceive our disappointment. 
 But what was to be done ? Rouse them ? 'T would 
 be cruel. We looked about us and discovered at a 
 distance a light. We made towards it, wading 
 through high wet grass — crossing some swollen 
 brooks — the rain unabated — until at length we 
 were at the threshold. It proved a house of two 
 stories, ancient and weather-beaten. We knocked. 
 A grum, ruffian voice reached our ears from an in- 
 ner apartment, sounding out in tones to make one 
 shudder, ' Come in.' We would not trust ourselves 
 until we saw our host — so knocked asrain — and 
 
 \-< 
 
 were greeted in like manner. In a moment foot- 
 steps were heard approaching. The door opened, 
 and two persons presented themselves. By the 
 light which one of them brought we perceived 
 they had a somewhat fearful aspect. Both were 
 shaggily apparelled. One was of the middle size 
 and, with his copper face and long black hair, had 
 the look of an Indian. The other was tall and big 
 every way — a brawny man with fiendish face — 
 
A BRACE OF RUFFIANS. 73 
 
 evidently brutalized with excessive potations. They 
 seemed to be alone in the house and, as it was Sat- 
 urday night, had probably been deep in a carouse. 
 They asked who we were, and where we came from, 
 and how we came there. Having answered their 
 questions, I asked them if there was an inn on the 
 island. They said, No. Any place where stran- 
 gers could be accommodated ? No. They were 
 vehemently urgent for us to come in. There was 
 so much reason to suspect them of sinister designs 
 that we declined. At length the fiercest of the two 
 grasped with his hand the collar of my coat and 
 would have me enter. But I resisted with all pos- 
 sible decision. Why I was not alarmed I know not. 
 My companion, who stood behind, pulled me by 
 the coat, as much as to say, we had better be ofTas 
 soon as possible. I told the ruffian to take his hand 
 from my collar and, suiting the action to the word, 
 jerked it forcibly off. Our backs were turned up- 
 on them in an instant. A volley of oaths followed 
 us at some distance, but in less than a trice we were 
 down the bank and at the boat's side. We told the 
 seamen we were disappointed and that they must 
 row us to the vessel. We were glad to get back to 
 our cabin again, but we kept our strange adventure 
 a profound secret, answering no more questions 
 than we were obliged to. 
 
 We were soon informed that some of the ladies, 
 presuming of course that we 'should not return, had 
 taken possession of our berths. There seemed to 
 7 
 
74 OBLIGING FRIENDS. 
 
 be no alternative left but to throw ourselves upon 
 the floor. Some of the passengers insisted upon 
 our taking their berths, declaring that they did not 
 wish to sleep, and, if they did, could get along a3 
 well on the floor as in the best berth. We accord- 
 ingly accepted their berths and turned ourselves in 
 more willingly than we had any previous night, 
 though expecting to while away the hours with un- 
 easy slumbers and distempered dreams. Our obli- 
 ging friends were better provided for than we imag- 
 ined, for the ladies overhearing us, had retired to thei r 
 own state-. ooms, leaving ours unoccupied. We pass- 
 ed a tolerable night, doubtless owing to our exercise 
 on the misty and mysterious Island. Awaking early 
 we still heard the rain beating down upon the deck, 
 and perceived that our vessel was in motion by the 
 gurgling of the water along the sides. We soon as- 
 certained that the captain was making towards the 
 city. He anchored at some distance from the 
 wharf, and those of us who wished to go ashore 
 must take to the long-boat. We had been out three 
 nights, and this day, Sunday, was the fourth since 
 we left Boston. We went to the captain and told 
 him that we had had quite enough of Packet-sailing 
 and should now try our luck at land-conveyance. 
 Having settled with him and bid adieu to our fel- 
 lows, who meant to stick by, w^e got into the 
 boat and were soon at the wharf. The tread 
 of our mother earth, or, I should rather say, our 
 foot-prints in the deep mire conveyed sensations of 
 
A STONE CHURCH AT SEA.. 75 
 
 exquisite pleasure through our enfeebled frames. 
 That day we attended service in Dr. N.'s church 
 — but not to our unmixed enjoyment — for the 
 church ^seemed metamorphosed into a vessel and 
 rolled from side to side as in a heavy sea. Though 
 requested to preach, the effect of my voyage made 
 it necessary for me to decline. The next day we 
 started by land, but had a most wearing and peril- 
 ous journey. It was the fall of the year, Novem- 
 ber, and the roads of course in a very bad state. 
 That from Augusta to Belfast, distant forty miles, 
 was most execrable. The mud had been many 
 inches deep and was now frozen solid. We must 
 rise at three o'clock in the morning, get into a wag- 
 on once covered, but now all in tatters, entirely 
 open in front, and resting without springs upon the 
 axle-trees. We fretted some, but to no purpose. 
 Our driver could not bnt acknowledge the justice of 
 our complaints. He was a young man, who had 
 some good qualities,' but whose highest attainment 
 appeared to be an astonishing volubility in the use of 
 profane language. Every crack of his whip was ac- 
 companied by a smart oath to give it increased ef- 
 fect. He beat his horses most unmercifully. His 
 lash was off their backs scarce a minute at a time 
 from the beginning to the end of the journey. Nev- 
 er in my life did I suffer so much from hard jolting. 
 As for sitting on the seat it was out of the question. 
 So I braced myself against the back and sides of the 
 vehicle, and rode thus a good part of the way. Ere 
 
76 HARD LUCK. 
 
 we had gone over half our course an aneurism was 
 produced in a vein on my hand, which somewhat 
 alarmed me and was not reduced for many days. 
 We reached Belfast some time in the afternoon, and 
 were obliged to pay more for our passage than we 
 should for the same distance in any other part of N. 
 England. Reader, if you are ever caught down 
 east, unless you wish to be beaten to a jelly, be shy 
 of trusting yourself upon the Belfast road at three 
 o'clock in the morning in the fall of the year. Rath- 
 er than wind round a curve of some thirty-two miles 
 •— perhaps with no better success than we had just 
 experienced — we preferred to step into the light 
 and swift packet that crosses straight to Castine, but 
 fifteen miles distant, which we reached after a short 
 and pleasant run. 
 
-CHAPTER It 77 
 
 Penobscot Bay. The old and trusty Pilot. Cas- 
 tine Light. Castine—ils Sabbath itillness — 
 Climate — Churches. Forts. Count of Castine. 
 The Fort par excellence — View from the Ram- 
 part. View from the Islands and the Heights of 
 Brookville. Inhabitants of C*. — Character 
 and Occupation. Things never to be forgotten. 
 
 Belfast or Penobscot Bay is fifteen miles 
 across, and extends to the open sea, distant thirty 
 miles. Into it pour the broad waters of Penobscot 
 River. On the North side is the town of Prospect, 
 and near by rises into view the rounded outline of 
 Brigadier's Island, with but one cleared spot amongst 
 its deep forests. A few mrles to the South is the 
 headland of a long and narrow Island, partially 
 wooded, running nine miles towards the sea and di- 
 viding the Bay, as it were, into two broad and migh- 
 ty rivers. On this are various settlements — the 
 town of Isleborough, &c. At the East and West 
 extremities of the Bay lie Castine and Belfast ; the 
 former with a population ot 1200 — the latter of 4 
 or 5000. The waters of the Bay are very deep, 
 and vessels of war of any size can float with perfect 
 safety almost everywhere. The curve of the Bay 
 on the Northern side it would be difficult for nature 
 to surpass. The ' tout ensemble 5 moreover is ex- 
 ceedingly picturesque, and with the golden sky and 
 balmy airs of summer to beguile the senses it is easy 
 to imagine oneself in the South of Europe looking 
 
 ( out upon one of the finest bays of the Mediterranean. 
 
 7 # 
 
78 THE TRUSTY PILOT AND CASTINE LIGHT. 
 
 Some Frenchmen indeed, who were here a few 
 years ago, were much taken with the beauty of this 
 inland sea, or l silvery lake ' and said it bore a stri- 
 king resemblance to the Bay of Naples. 
 
 But we must not forget the old and trusty pilot of 
 these waters. He has seen many a foul day as well 
 fair. He has been caught by, as well as escaped 
 many a squall. His little sloop with its green stri- 
 ped sides, has oft been buried beneath the swelling 
 waves. Though for many years he has crossed 
 these waters, at all seasons, and almost every day, 
 — bating those in mid-winter when the bay is thick- 
 ribbed with ice — he has ever saved himself and 
 those committed to his care. His shrewd weather- 
 beaten visage assures you of safety. Would that 
 his morals were as good as his pilotage. 
 
 With a fair breeze the passage across the Bay is 
 accomplished in two hours. Castine light is made 
 a mile this side of the village. It is on the Western 
 extremity of the Peninsula. Castine light ! I sup- 
 pose, reader you think it would hardly reward a 
 glance. You are mistaken. It is a beautiful object 
 situated as it is upon a lofty precipice, whose rugged 
 sides consist of rocks that have been worn into all 
 curious shapes by the ebb and flow of the restless 
 ocean-waters for unknown centuries. You run close 
 under them. In a few minutes you find yourself 
 alongside the wharfs, the snug village of Castine 
 and its neat Churches rising before you like a vision 
 of some fairy land. 
 
CASTINE ITS SABBATH STILLNESS. 79 
 
 The Peninsula is some four or five miles in cir- 
 cumference, oblong in shape, and rises gradually 
 from the water's edge to a considerable elevation. 
 The Town is on the southern slope, beneath the 
 battlements ol a large and strong forttification erec- 
 ted by the British during the revolutionary war, and 
 taken possession of by them again during the last war. 
 It seems to sleep quietly beneath the arm of a migh- 
 ty protector, literally to sleep, for there is not what 
 can be called bustle or stir therein from morn to 
 mid-day, or latest eve. No carts, wagons, or chai- 
 ses are heard rattling along the fme-gravelled streets. 
 The town contains but twelve hundred inhabitants 
 and two hundred of these form a village by them- 
 selves several miles from the Peninsula. All busi- 
 ness is transacted by water. So that a Sabbath still- 
 ness pervades the air every day of the week. Cas- 
 tine is a lovely place. The houses are quite com- 
 pact and nearly all painted ; most of them white. 
 They are of two stories, built in good taste, and 
 seldom destitute of gardens of considerable size and 
 some beauty. It has never been my good fortune 
 to be in a village that is blessed with greater tran- 
 quility — purer air — cleaner and better streets, or 
 houses, yards and fields more neat and pleasura- 
 ble. The climate is equable. The mercury sel- 
 dom mounts higher than 85, or descends lower than 
 — 15 degrees. 
 
 Castine would be a choice watering-place for the 
 rich merchants of Bangor during the heats of sum- 
 
&.Q 
 
 FORTS COUNT OF CaSTINE. 
 
 mer. There are two churches : one lifting a square 
 tower, and the other a very symmetrical spire into the 
 heavens. The Unitarian Church, inside and out, 
 is a model of correct taste. These churches, as is 
 the case in all small villages, are antipodal to each 
 other in aj] respects, but locality. The Bay in front 
 of Castine, which is three-fourths of a mile wide, i3 
 deep, and will float close to the town the largest 
 vessels of war. Between the Town and the Light 
 are the remains of three forts, one erected during 
 the last war, which is in a good state of preserva- 
 tion and contains a few cannon within its precincts 
 — another erected during the old French war — 
 and another erected by the Count of Castine, 
 a French Nobleman, who is supposed to have come 
 to this country in disgrace, and, attracted by the 
 beauty of the situation, to have fixed his abode here. 
 The Indians were numerous about him, and to pro- 
 tect himself against their depredations and any evil 
 schemes they might machinate against him in case 
 of offence, as also to gain entire sway over them so 
 as to make them subservient to his purposes, he is 
 said to have thrown up these mounds and planted 
 in front rows of palisades. These events must have 
 taken place some centuries since. 
 
 Reader, ascend with me now to the central and 
 principal fort on the height of the Peninsula, and 
 take a view of that Panorama which I have so often 
 gazed upon with delightful and sublime emotions^ 
 and with which my eye could never grow weary. 
 
GREAT FORT VIEW FROM ITS RAMPART. 81 
 
 Let me point out to you the different features of the 
 landscape. To the north you trace a line of wild 
 and rugged hills, and the serpentine course of that 
 Prince of Eastern rivers, the mighty Penohscot, 
 coming down from the solitude of unbroken forests 
 where the cry of wild beasts alone is heard. To 
 the East the ocean tides ascend far beyond the point 
 of land on which you stand to join the fresh-water 
 currents that descend from their sources several 
 miles above, and seventeen miles distant is the co- 
 nical swell of a certain wooded eminence, ever with 
 a veil of blue mist thrown around its sides and 
 heightening its natural charms, known as c Blue- 
 Hill.' To the South your eye falls upon the sweet 
 village at your feet — the wharfs and ships which be- 
 speak commerce of considerable moment — the bay 
 widening eastward from three-fourths of a mile iO 
 three miles, and spotted with many fairy islands of 
 every size and shape — some, bare and sea-washed 
 rocks — others, clothed with verdure and enlivened 
 with the bleat of flocks of sheep — some, producing 
 in abundance varieties of berries — the rich black- 
 berry and delicious strawberry — others, clothed 
 with a goodly growth of forest. Among them the 
 seal swims and the porpoise gambols, and upon them 
 in winter the foxes seek their food. Directed sea- 
 ward your eye will catch in the distance five or six 
 isles, twenty-nine miles off, one behind the other in 
 almost regular succession, the foremost small, but 
 increasing in size to the hindmost, and appearing 
 
82 HEIGHTS OF BROOKVILLE. 
 
 like a file of tortoises taking up their line of march 
 across the waters of the bay. To the West lies 
 spread out before you the broad bay at the mouth 
 of the Penobscot — Prospect and Belfast along its 
 shores — Long Island far-stretching North and 
 South, and the noble range of the Camden Hills 
 with their rounded summits rising one above anoth- 
 er, and, when reflected in golden splendor against 
 an evening sky, presenting a scene of great beauty 
 and one admirably suited to the pencil. The duty 
 of a Cicerone I have now discharged and leave you, 
 my Iriend, to gaze, admire, and indulge your own 
 reflections. — If you are a lover of fine scenery step 
 into one of the swift sail-boats at the wharf and 
 speed your course to the islands or the heights of 
 Brookville ; you will never repent it. 'New- 
 England cannot furnish more enchanting and mag- 
 nificent landscapes. Winnipisseogee lake with its 
 more than three hundred isles, as seen from the 
 summit of Red Mountain, hardly equals them. 
 
 Castine is a most sequestered spot. It is not upon 
 any of the main roads that traverse the State. It is 
 thirty-two miles South of Bangor and seventeen 
 from Bucksport. Every mile from this latter place 
 towards C # . carries you so far away from the com- 
 mon thoroughfare of travel. If a stranger is in Cas- 
 tine, he is there to view the scenery, visit his rela- 
 tions and friends, or accomplish some matter of bu- 
 siness. The chief events which serve to enliven 
 the Sabbath stillness of the place are the periodical 
 
INHABITANTS OF CASTINE. 83 
 
 sittings of the Courts and the occasional debarkation 
 of a steamboat party from Bangor. The inhabitants 
 of Castine partake of the character of their village 
 and climate. There is a gentleness, quiet, and equa- 
 bility about them, that are rarely to be found amidst 
 the bold enterprize and bustle of the East. Com- 
 merce built up the place, and this, together with 
 the regular outfit of the fishing-smacks that run to the 
 Great Banks, sustain it in about the same position 
 from year to year. The merchants, some of them, 
 have amassed considerable property. Of farmers 
 there are a few. The soil is generally untractable. 
 The Western parts of the Peninsula are very rocky, 
 yet produce grass enough for sheep. Springs gush 
 out here and there to quench their thirst, and clumps 
 of spruce, birch, and other trees form for them a 
 pleasant shade from the heats of mid-summer. 
 
 Castine — a pleasant vision will ever rise to my 
 mind when thy name is mentioned or occurs to me. 
 Never shall I forget that sacred desk, associated 
 with my earliest efforts in the cause of Christian 
 truth and love, where for the first time I felt myself 
 a preacher of the cross and charged with the respon- 
 sible care of immortal spirits, or that little band 
 that pledged themselves to commemorate a Saviour's 
 love, or the Sabbath School that responded so tru- 
 ly to the vesper prayer and listened with so much 
 interest to the friendly counsels of their Teachers, 
 and chanted with such harmonious and heavenly joy 
 hymns of praise to the Creator and Father of all. 
 
84 THINGS NEVER 
 
 Never shall I forget those weekly assemblings for 
 mutual instruction and encouragement, for the culti- 
 vation of the social feelings, for the attainment of a 
 spirit of true piety, for ' thanksgiving and the voice 
 of melody ', or those happy evenings spent in listen- 
 ing to rich, hallowed, and wonderful effusions of olden 
 song, which the musical upstarts of the present day, 
 one may venture to affirm, have never heard, if in- 
 deed they have known of their existence. Long 
 shall I remember my frequent rambles along thy 
 shores — Old Castine — the many curious stones and 
 sea-weeds, shells and fish I have gathered there — the 
 sea-birds floating upon the breast of the blue waters, 
 or careering and screaming overhead, or skimming 
 along the margin of the shore — the bleating of the 
 sheep borne from the islands in the stillness of the 
 evening twilight — the vessels in full sail, from ship 
 to fishing-smack, bounding in from the mighty sea 
 — the star-lit nights, clearer and brighter than far- 
 ther West — that happiest eve when an unexpect- 
 brother was my guest, and sitting in my chamber 
 discoursing of things that stirred our souls, we threw 
 our windows up, 
 
 ' And looked forth to the sky whose floating glow 
 Spread like a rosy ocean, vast and bright ; 
 And gazed upon the glittering sea below, 
 Whence the broad moon rose circling into sight, 
 And heard the waves' splash and the wind so low ' — 
 
 Long shall I remember the lovely bay seldom torn 
 with bitter squalls, on which I first learned to guide 
 
TO BE FORGOTTEN. 85 
 
 my little boat without pilot or companion, and that af- 
 ternoon when pursued by a man-mermaid or mer- 
 man — an unaccountable creature with broad face, 
 capacious head, large human eyes and locks some- 
 what grey and long — how he darted towards me 
 under water, reappearing at intervals to look around 
 and at me, and when with haste I ran my boat into 
 a nook hard by, disappearing to be seen no more. 
 Long shall I remember that aged woman ■ — a shin- 
 ing light of the church — who lived all but an hun- 
 dred years and was active as a person ot three score, 
 who retained all her intellects and affections to the 
 last, and died as she had lived full of faith and hope 
 — that solemn time when rowed three miles across 
 the waters in a light skiff, and from the landing- 
 place obliged to walk several miles beneath a swel- 
 tering sun to aUend the funeral solemnities of an old 
 man — a patriarch indeed — round whose remains 
 had gathered a company of mourners from the four 
 winds of heaven — that afflicted son of man, with a 
 large family of youthful sons and daughters depend- 
 ant upon him for subsi.stance, suddenly prostrated in 
 the prime of life, by an excruciating and horrid dis- 
 ease, unable to eat or drink, and, sad to tell or think 
 upon, starved — literally starved into his 'narrow 
 house ' — - and those thrilling tales of deserters from 
 the Euglish Camp, who were taken and subjected 
 to the rigour of martial law — shot outside the fort 
 into their coffins, as they kneeled over them, 
 by a file of their obedient but heart-rent comrades. 
 8 
 
S6 DEPARTURE FOR THE SOUTH. 
 
 These and many other things will never be forgotten. 
 Much professional labor, the short intermission 
 between services on the Sabbath (affording little op- 
 portunity for the repose of mind or body) together 
 with the powerful action upon my system of an at- 
 mosphere saturated with salt-vapors, made it necessa- 
 ry for me to obtain a release from the Society at 
 Castine and seek a more Southern clime. It was 
 the middle of February and the best ol sleighing ; ac- 
 cordingly a quick run over the hardened snow soon 
 brought me again to the metropolis of N. England. 
 
 SOUTHWARD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Hartford — Asylum for the Deaf and Dumb. Aeu> 
 York — Jewish Sabbath — Peak's Museum — 
 Hydro- Oxygen Microscope. Hoboken. Phila- 
 delphia — Pratt's Garden, etc. Baltimore — a 
 noble Forest — Catholic Cathedral — Jin ardent 
 Catholic. 
 
 From Boston, after the expiration of a month, 
 1 took steamboat for New York by the way of Hart- 
 ford, and visited the Asylum for the Deaf and Dumb 
 in H*. There were one hundred and thirty pupils. 
 
HARTFORD DEAF AND DUMB ASYLUM. 87 
 
 They obtain a good general education, and the 
 knowledge of some particular trade. I was inform- 
 ed that there were seven or eight thousand of these 
 unfortunates in the United States, and about fifteen 
 hundred in Massachusetts. The states severally 
 support their Deaf and Dumb who are in indigent 
 circumstances. Some of these have no idea of God. 
 Though they fear when it thunders and lightens, it is 
 not from any conception of a superior Being. They 
 expect to die like the beasts of the field, and perish 
 forever. So I was told. This must be true, I 
 should suppose, only those who have not had the 
 benefit of any education. The teachers are ten in 
 number, three of them deaf and dumb, and receive 
 salaries of five hundred to fifteen hundred dollars. 
 The fund of the Institution is $100,000. 
 
 I passed a week in New York, and made myself 
 familiar with all that is interesting therein ; its pub- 
 lic buildings — its City Hall with bespotted marble 
 steps — a desecrated place, literally a magnificent 
 spit-box — its Exchange, with its statue of exquis- 
 ite workmanship and truth — its churches, of which 
 St. John's with its lofty spire, imposing interior, 
 and noble square, guarded by a costly and sub- 
 stantial iron railing, took my fancy far more than any 
 other — its Hotels — its batteries and parks, its gar- 
 dens and refectories — its Museums — Hospitals 
 — .and Colleges — also its rattling and numberless 
 Omnibusses, some of whose inscriptions pleased me, 
 such as Washington Irving, Alice Gray, Lady Clin* 
 
88 NEW-YORK. 
 
 ton, Knickerbocker, Gideon Lee, North Star, and 
 Rip Van Winkle. Among the strange sights of this 
 strange city, I saw such strange signs and symbols 
 as i Quackenboss, Wjncoop & Co.' c Babylon — 
 Islip — Patchoque Stage.' Paid a visit to Mar- 
 quand's Jewelry Store, Gardiner's Furniture Ware 
 House, G. &. C. Carvill's Bookstore, Waldo & 
 Jewett's Painting Rooms, and the Rooms of the 
 Geological Institute, which I note thus particularly, 
 as every body ought to visit them. 
 
 A hot and sultry day — in the fifth story of a cof- 
 fee-house, taking a siesta after dinner, and slightly 
 protected by the netting that enclosed my couch 
 from the attacks of musketoes of monstrous size 
 and alarmingly ferocious dispositions — most blood- 
 thirsty phlebotomists ; here carried on with Quix- 
 otic ardor an argumentation with an antagonistical 
 friend on the value of posthumous fame. 
 
 Threaded a multitude of streets on Sabbath morn- 
 ing with the same friend to find the Jewish Syna- 
 gogue and attend its services. After a persevering 
 and wearisome search we ferreted it out, and drop- 
 ped upon its steps exhausted with latigue — all to 
 no purpose but to have impressed upon our memories 
 by an Israelite the old and lost lesson that Saturday 
 is the Jewish Sabbath. A laugh at our stupidity 
 and folly refreshed us somewhat, and we wound our 
 way to Murray -street and heard the Rev. Mr. Snod- 
 grass preach, (Phoebus what a name!) or rather 
 slept through Ins preaching — no fault of the ser- 
 
peale's museum, etc. 89 
 
 mon however. The physical man was prostrate. — 
 The flesh was weak, and the spirit also. 
 
 At Peale's Museum formed an acquaintance with 
 two or three individuals of the serpentine species, 
 su h as the Anaconda, the Boa Constrictor, end 
 took a seat within the shell of a Sycamore tree, big 
 enough to contain a score of humanities. At the 
 American was interested in the examination of 
 curiosities upon curiosities, too numerous to mention, 
 and there witnessed the astonishing powers of the 
 Hydro-oxygen Microscope, magnifying the skeleton 
 larvae of the Gnat and the Hydrophilus or water- 
 Devil, which devours every day six or eight times 
 its weight of insects, to two million and a half times 
 their natural size, and thereby exhibiting to view 
 their internal structure — muscles, organs, &c. 
 
 Washington Square, with its spacious and unique 
 marble edifice or College — The Park, with its 
 public buildings, and rural aspect in the heart of the 
 city — the Battery at its Southern extremity, with 
 its fine ranges of trees, its smoothed and winding 
 walks, and its seats for the weary or contemplative 
 — these are the pride of New York and an attrac- 
 tion to strangers. 
 
 Crossed by the ferry to Brooklyn and Hoboken 
 and have much to say in praise of both, especially 
 the latter. It is one and a half miles to Hoboken, 
 and the ferriage but six cents. Purchased a juve- 
 nile ride upon a circular fail-way for twelve cents, 
 and walked through the fine avenue of trees, stretch- 
 
 8* 
 
90 HOBOKEN PHILADELPHIA. 
 
 hing for miles, and forming a most romantic prom- 
 enade along the banks of the Hudson, as far as Tur- 
 tle Grove. The weather not proving good my 
 friend and my self were obliged to return, much to 
 our disappointment, without visiting the tomb of 
 the immortal Hamilton. We saw grape vines on 
 our way, the most astonishing for size — one sev- 
 enty feet in length, and covering the frame of a buil- 
 ding thirty-five feet in breadth, for which it answer- 
 ed as a perfect shelter or roof, and another eigh- 
 ty feet in length, forty in breadth, and eleven in 
 circumference at the trunk. This was the Burgun- 
 dy grape. 
 
 Next took passage for Philadelphia, where I tar- 
 ried another week and for the same purpose. — Went 
 as everybody does, to the Fair Mount waterworks 
 and the Mint where they cut 120 half dollars in 
 a minute and the mint-hopper throws out 50 at once 
 all stamped and ready for use. I was surprised to 
 learn from the superintendent that out of a thou- 
 sand persons who had been employed in the differ- 
 ent branches of the business, only two had been 
 dishonest and purloined money. — Went also to the 
 Navy Yard to see the largest ship in the Union, and 
 and a big one it is indeed. 
 
 Was favored by kind friends with a trip to Pratt's 
 Garden, a little out of the city, which is perfect in 
 its way. Among other plants and trees, I remem- 
 ber the Yew, Banyan, Cypress, Mocha Coffee, Ro- 
 dodendron, Arbor Vitae, Juniper, Tulip tree, Wax- 
 
BALTIMORE. 91 
 
 plant, Citron, Pine-apple, &c. f gave a j a^s- 
 ing look at the famous Penitentiary covering; so ma- 
 ny acres — thought the Arcade containing Peale's 
 unrivalled Museum, and the Chesnut-street Theatre 
 buildings of no common beauty, and admired much, 
 very much the simple architecture of the United 
 States Bank as well .as the rich and superb facade 
 of the Exchange. Chesnut St. is a fine street, 
 though not for a moment to be compared with 
 Broadway. The market in Philadelphia however, 
 is above comparison with any thing of the kind in 
 New York. The former place moreover has the 
 advantage of an abundant supply of good water, in 
 which the latter is sadly deficient. Philadelphia, on 
 the whole, is too much a city of straight lines for 
 my taste. Give me a little more up and down, 
 round-about and twist-about. There is nothing so 
 pleasant as to be lost once in a while in a large city. 
 — The Philadelphians and New Yorkers are as stri- 
 kingly different as their cities. Of this and their 
 peculiarities every body is aware. 
 
 Baltimore is a fine city. I do not mean that it 
 is more so than those already noticed, but it is more 
 to the mind of a Bostonian, or one who like my- 
 self has walked its streets for years, than any other 
 city i have seen. It contains nearly the same num- 
 ber of inhabitants, is just about as irregular, and, in 
 fact, is much like Boston. Baltimore and also Phil- 
 adelphia, as respects the syren charms of woman, 
 are said to surpass other cities. The chief objects 
 
92 A NOBLE FOREST. 
 
 of interest to a stranger in Baltimore, are Wash- 
 ington's Monument, the Battle Monument, the Pen- 
 itentiary and Prison, the Water Works, and the 
 City Spring. Within the enclosure of the latter is 
 a monument erected to some colonel who fell in a 
 skirmish in 1814. It is a small square shaft flanked 
 by marble cannon, with four cannon shot on the 
 summit, and upon these a bomb-shell. In the vi- 
 cinity of Washington's Monument, truly worthy of 
 the Father of his Country, is an extensive forest of 
 ancient oaks. It is most truly picturesque. You 
 cannot enter it with careless steps. You are awed 
 at once by the grandeur of the old forest brethren, 
 standing side by side, and lilting their crowned heads 
 towards the heavens. Within this sacred domain 
 the flame of devotion kindles in the soul without 
 effort — unconsciously. One feels the truth of the 
 following beautiful passage : ' In the woods is per- 
 petual youth ; within the plantations of God a deco- 
 r um and sanctity reign ; a perennial festival is dress- 
 ed, and the guest sees not how he should tire of 
 them in a thousand years.' 
 
 Among other objects of interest, are the Unitarian 
 Church, which is hardly equalled for imposing ef- 
 fect in the Union, — St Mary's College, which by 
 the by is of indifferent appearance — the Exchange, 
 U. S. Bank, and Custom House (one building) and 
 in particular the Catholic Cathedral. On the dif- 
 ferent sides of the last, as you approach, your at- 
 tention is attracted by the following passages of 
 
CATHOLIC CATHEDRAL. 93 
 
 Scripture : 'Ye shall keep my Sabbaths, and rever- 
 ence my sanctuary: I am the Lord.' (Levit. xix. 30.) 
 c Now mine eyes shall be open, and mine ears attent 
 unto the prayer that is made in this place.' (2 Chron. 
 vii. 15.) 'We preach Christ crucified, unto the 
 Jews a stumbling-block, and unto the Greeks foolish- 
 ness.' (I Corin. i. 23.) It is hardly necessary to 
 say that passages like these, inscribed in letters legi- 
 ble at considerable distance, produce a very solemn 
 effect upon the mind. As you enter the Cathedral 
 a marble figure on one side greets your eye, point- 
 ing toward the Holy of Holies with this inscription, 
 which seems to sound in your ears — ' Adore the 
 Lord in his Holy Temple ;' and another on the op- 
 posite side with the following : — ' He that shall vi- 
 olate the temple of God, him shall God destroy.' 
 Back of the pulpit you read — ' Come ye therefore 
 and teach all nations.' Many valuable paintings 
 hang about the walls, all of which are described 
 with great particularity by a female attendant. I 
 was at the Cathedral on a week-day, and afterwards 
 on the Sabbath. On my first visit I had a some- 
 what singular conversation with the pious Catholic 
 woman, who acted the part of a cicerone. She 
 discoursed with incredible fluency about the altar, 
 the paintings, the calendar of saints, the sacrifice of 
 the mass, a belief of which she declared essential to 
 salvation, transubsantiation, the history of the church, 
 &c. I told her, when the current of her thoughts 
 checked a little, that I did not know what she meant 
 
94 AN ARDENT CATHOLIC. 
 
 by the ' sacrifice of the mass,' which she deemed 
 so indispensable. She undertook to explain, but 
 her explanation left me in still greater perplexity 
 and darkness. ' It is all essential,' said she with 
 increased volubility ; ' The church is built upon it. 
 You cannot be saved without it.' 'But,' said I, 
 4 we read nothing of the sort in the Bible — The 
 expression is not there.' 'The Catholic Church/ 
 she replied, ' is the true church — Believe in this 
 and you will be saved.' ' How do you know,' said 
 I, c that it is the true church ?' ' 0,' said she, ' it 
 is founded upon the teaching of the apostles.' 
 4 How do vou know that ? Have you ever read 
 the history of the church?' 'No, I have not.' 
 ' How then do you know ?' ' The priest has told 
 us.' ' Now,' said I, 'allow me to say you are in 
 a great error. The history of the church I have 
 read carefully, and can assure you that the Catholic is 
 not the ancient, the true church. The true church is 
 that now called Liberal.' Pointing towards the dome 
 of the Unitarian church, ' there,' said I, ' is the an- 
 cient, the true church.' She shook her head, and 
 replied, 'No.' She argued moreover from the uni- 
 versality of the Catholic church that it was the 
 church of the apostles. ' No.' said I, ' In the first 
 place it is not universal, and if it were, it would 
 prove nothing. A belief in witchcraft was once uni- 
 versal. Does this prove its truth ? Do you be- 
 lieve in it on this account ?' 
 
 At length she said she did not consider the Uni- 
 
AN ARDENT CATHOLIC. 95 
 
 tarian church a church. 'No salvation is to be found 
 in it. If you are not a Catholic,' she continued,' you 
 may as well be an Unitarian as any thing else. There, 
 is no safety out of the true Church. After a while 
 she relaxed a little, and said 'she hoped I was on safe 
 grouud,' (or rather) ' hoped I was safe.' I walked 
 about the aisles and she recommenced her descrip- 
 tions of some of the painted figures. At length she 
 turned and said, ' But it is of no use for me to talk 
 — you do not believe what I say.' I replied, that 
 I believed all I knew to be historically true ; more 
 than this it was out of my power to believe. Part 
 of the conversation was quite amuseing, for she was 
 a quick-witted woman. I seated myself near the 
 pew of the last of the Signers, Charles Carrol, while 
 she stood in the aisle. Some of her remarks pleased 
 me so much that I quite forgot myself and irrever- 
 ently put my hat on my head, which she in a moment, 
 as if her sense of propriety had been in a degree 
 shocked, requested me to take off. Ere I left this 
 singular woman, as my friend and myself stood up- 
 on the steps of the Cathedral, she said, 'though she 
 could not think us safe, nay, must think us in much 
 danger, she hoped we might meet again in another 
 world, in the better country.' I replied that I did 
 not doubt, if we sought diligently to understand, and 
 to perform our duties here, she would find us there 
 at last. With these words we parted. I attended 
 the Cathedral service on the Sabbath. It was a most 
 ridiculous piece of mummery. It was bowing like 
 the bulrush throughout. 
 
96 HOTELS. 
 
 Lottery offices abound here.— Peale's Museum is 
 worth a visit. — The Pittsburgh wagons, with their 
 large breasted and fine-limbed horses — powerful 
 and high-spirited animals, cannot but attract notice. 
 
 The Hotels of the most established reputation 
 which it may be well to name for the benefit of some, 
 are the City Hotel — Beltzoover's -.-- the Baltimore 
 Hotel and Houseley's or Hussey's. 
 
 Of our religious societies in the several cities 
 noticed, as they were then, and have been since, 
 nothing could be told that is not generally known. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Indications of Slavery. Washington — Capitol and 
 President's House. Mt. Vernon— The way to 
 it. The old Negro Servant. The new and the 
 old Tomb. The Mansion — Its Apartments, etc. 
 etc. The View from the Piazza. The Garden 
 and Green-house. Our Departure. 
 
 Descending the steps of the City Hotel to take 
 the stage to Washington, I unexpectedly met upon 
 the pavement several highly valued friends, some 
 from Cambridge, whose faces were turned in the 
 same direction. We concluded to go in company, 
 and securing seats in the same coach, started off in 
 good spirits for the capital of the Union. It was a 
 fine spring morning. Its pure soft air, to which we 
 had long been strangers, with highly entertaining con- 
 versation answered as an offset to the hard road and 
 
INDICATIONS OF SLAVERY. 97 
 
 uninteresting aspect of the country. On our jour- 
 ney for the first time did I realize that we were in 
 a slave state. In Baltimore the idea had hardly oc- 
 curred to me. Here and there, as we rolled along, 
 a few miserable negro huts skirted the road, and 
 once in a while we could distinguish a lagged for- 
 lorn object busy at his task in the sterile and drea- 
 ry fields. Some time in the after part of the day 
 we found ourselves in the streets of the famed city 
 and, covered with dust, soon landed at the door of 
 Gadsby's Hotel. Though much fatigued one of 
 our company and myself could not but sally forth, 
 as soon as might be, to get a view ere night-fall 
 of the Capitol and President's house. They 
 tower — especially the former — in their pride and 
 glory at the extreme points of Pennsylvania ave- 
 nue. They are a mile distant from each other. 
 All I have to say of them and the city at piesentis, 
 that the former produce an imposing effect upon the 
 mind, and that the latter, apart from its being the 
 seat of government and its public buildings, contains 
 but little to interest. The view however from the 
 dome of the capitol is very extensive and very 
 good, though not extraordinary. But more of these 
 hereafter. 
 
 The next day our party were desirous of pro- 
 ceeding immediately to Mount Vernon. So we 
 procured a barouche and set off. It is fifteen miles 
 from the city. We entered a steamboat, barouche 
 and all, and descended the Potomac as far as Alex- 
 9 
 
93 MT. VERNON THE WAY TO IT. 
 
 andria, which is six miles distant. The trip was 
 pleasant, but Alaxandria we found to be a most un- 
 sightly place. We were soon out of it and on our 
 way to the shrine of our country's idol. For the 
 greater part of the nine miles the country on either 
 side of us was woody and wild. The road, if it 
 might be called such, was bad beyond description. 
 Mud, deep and miry, in some places to the hubs of 
 the wheels, and frequent peril of being overset and 
 buried therein made it necessary to walk the horses 
 nearly the whole distance. It was a long — long 
 journey, but not a tedious one. It w T ds a truly pleas- 
 ant pilgrimage. We made all due allowances for the 
 season of the year, but evidently at no season is the 
 road kept in repair, and it is a disgrace to the coun- 
 try that it should be so. The approach to the seat 
 from the main road is through an irregular and natu- 
 ral growth of fine tall trees which extend for a mile 
 or more. The aspect of the country all the way 
 irom Alexandria is rural, and Mount Vernon, as it 
 opens to the eye, is highly beautiful and picturesque. 
 It has all the essentials of a delightful country seat, 
 and one would not be at a loss to pronounce it the 
 hospitable abode of a Virginia gentleman — a man of 
 character and taste — a lover of nature in her natu- 
 ral mood and serene beauty. We alighted from 
 our vehicle and soon perceived an aged negro ap- 
 proaching, who greeted us in a most courtier-like 
 manner. We made known the object of our visit. 
 He turned and led the way slowly towards the house, 
 
THE OLD NEGRO SERVANT. 99 
 
 where we hoped to find Mrs. Washington, to whom 
 we had a card kindly furnished us by an intimate 
 friend of the family. He informed us, much to our 
 disappointment, that she was not at home. As we 
 walked along thoughts of days gone by and of him 
 — the pure genius of this sacred spot — crowded 
 upon our minds. A few questions put to the aged 
 negro proved him to be ready to communicate all he 
 knew. We learned from him that he had been a 
 servant in Washington's family and was 38 years old 
 when the General died. He said he was c raised ' 
 in the household, was ' given ' by the General to 
 the Judge, and by the latter to John Washington 
 4 to take care of.' ' When we were boys,' he contin- 
 ued, (speaking of Washington and himself) l we of- 
 ten rolled in the grass together. Dear me !' he ex- 
 claimed, ' many a thump have I given him in play. 
 Though much older than me, Washington loved to 
 play with me.' He must have been much more 
 than thirty-eight years old when the General died, 
 or his imagination has put considerable coloring on 
 this picture. Conversing about the General we fol- 
 lowed him past the house down to the c new tomb,' 
 which was begun by Washington, but left unfinished 
 at his death. In this tomb the ashes of the Father 
 of his Country now repose. 
 
 ( And does a hero's dust lie here ? 
 Columbia ! gaze and drop a tear ! 
 His country's and the orphan's friend, 
 See thousands o'er his ashes bend ) 
 
100 THE NEW AND THE OLD TOMB, 
 
 Among the heroes of the age, 
 He was the warrior and the sage. 
 He left a train of glory bright, 
 Which never will be hid in night. 
 
 * * * ♦ • 
 
 And every sex and every age 
 From lisping boy to learned sage. 
 The widow and her orphan son, 
 Revere the name of Washington.' 
 
 The tomb is a plain brick structure, shaded 
 by waving branches of cedar. The inscription 
 on the front produces a sublime effect upon the 
 mind and thrills it with lofty and sacred associations. 
 It is this : 
 
 WASHINGTON FAMILY. 
 
 c I am the resurrection and the life. He that be- 
 lieveth in me, though he were dead, yet he shall live, 
 and whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall nev- 
 er die.' John. 
 
 The rays of the bright sun gilded the face of the 
 tomb and the shadow of the trees fell upon the 
 arched and grassy roof, and here and there upon the 
 circumjacent ground. We took a few sprigs of the 
 branches that hung over the entrauce, then silently 
 and thoughtfully followed our venerable guide to the 
 old tomb where the body was first deposited. It 
 was built of like materials with the new, but is now 
 in a ruined state. When the body was removed, 
 our guide informed us that the mahogany covering 
 of the lead coffin had entirely rotted away even to 
 the screws and nails. The lead coffin was then 
 
THE MANSION. 101 
 
 put into a plain wooden box and then deposited in 
 the new tomb. From this spot, he said, the fami- 
 ly never would consent that it should be removed. 
 We brought away from the old tomb bits of the stone 
 on which the coffin rested for many years and which 
 seemed to us hallowed by this simple circumstance, 
 and some of the acorns which dropt from the oak that 
 lifts itself majestically near by, and seems to be the 
 protection ot the place from all irreverent intrusion. 
 We then naturally directed our steps towards the 
 house, anxious to see those apartments where the 
 Father of his Country studied and wrote, conversed 
 and planned, partook of the joys and endearments 
 of domestic life. We passed through the entry 
 that divides the house, into what is called the set- 
 ting-rcom. As every thing that is associated with 
 the ' First in the hearts of his countrymen ' is in- 
 teresting, I trust I shall be excused for minuteness 
 of description. Since his death few alterations of 
 any consequence have been made in any of the apart- 
 ments. The room just mentioned is of moderate 
 size and every thing about it indicates a simple taste. 
 This is true of all the apartments into which we were 
 admitted. The first object that attracted our attention 
 was the identical library, over whose books he had 
 pondered, enclosed in a large window case occupy- 
 ing, or rather constituting one side of the apartment. 
 Various pictures lay upon the table in the centre 
 of the room, near which stood two of Mrs Wash- 
 ington's sons. Among other things we noticed a 
 
 9* 
 
K)2 its 
 
 Jarge map — a fan of peacock feathers — and busts of 
 La Fayette and General Washington placed on op- 
 posite sides of the room. Near this is an apartment 
 where he transacted business and did all his writing. 
 The wainscoting and ceiling (which is highly 
 ornamented and beautiful,) are the same as when he 
 occupied it. The same pictures and engravings 
 hang on the walls, but since his death they have been 
 newly framed. Among them I noticed ' Hector 
 and Andromache.' 'The Fall of Montgomery.' 'The 
 ■defence of Gibraltar' — and *The battle of Bunker's 
 Hill.' On the other side of the entry is a small 
 room for winter, neat and appropriately furnished — 
 then a room quite spacious, added by the General 
 and containing a fire-frame presented him by La 
 Fayette, when he heard that he was enlarging his 
 house. It is of exquisite marble, having various 
 agricultural emblems wrought upon it, such as sheep 
 — cattle — milk-maids &c. The ceiling is decked 
 with similar devices, such as the rake — spade — 
 pitch-fork — pick-axe — sickle — wheat-sheaf &c. 
 These iare arranged in groups in the centre and an- 
 gles of a large figure occupying the whole ground. 
 A neat organ, a portrait of Judge Washington, neph- 
 ew of the General, and a large painting comprising 
 the different members of Mrs Washington's family 
 (the present occupant, (whose husband was a neph- 
 ew to the Judge) embrace all that deserves notice. 
 There is an adjacent room of small size, containing 
 a painting on canvass over the fire-place — an en- 
 
CURIOSITIES — PIAZZA. 103 
 
 •graved apotheosis of Washington — a perfect like- 
 ness of the General executed by a French boy upon 
 a pitcher and so exquisitely done that it has been cut 
 out and framed — a fine view of Mount Vernon and 
 the serpentine waters of the Potomac &c. In the 
 entry, your attention is attracted by several engra- 
 vings and curiosities on either side, a dog and a her* 
 on, two representations of a fox-chase, two land* 
 scapes without names, the key of the Bastile, the 
 tooth of a Mammoth, and over the door that opens 
 upouthe piazza, bronze images of slaves and lions. 
 The door was thrown open and we went out upon 
 the piazza which extends the whole length of the 
 house. For the information of those who have nev- 
 er seen an engraving of the house, it may be remark- 
 ed that it is two stories in height, covering an oblong 
 square, and of a color not much different from white; 
 with a sort of cupola and wings, (or whet may be 
 considered such) thrown a little back or towards 
 the rear of the main building. The latter are cov- 
 ered passages running out to what may be denomi- 
 nated magnified belfries. 
 
 The view from the Piazza of the winding course 
 of the silver Potomac, of fort Warburton and other 
 objects of interest in the distance is hardly equalled 
 in our country. The house itself has a light and 
 airy appearance and the whole picture limned upon 
 the fancy answers to an oriental scene. Having ob- 
 served all that was likely to gratify curiosity in the 
 abode of the departed, we retraced our steps to th§ 
 
104 THE GARDEN AND GREEN-HOUSE. 
 
 rear of the house, and vvhiled away a short time in 
 examining the lovely daffodils and hyacinths which 
 grew plentifully on the grounds, the luxuriant box, 
 so lofty and large-leafed, and a strikingly beautiful 
 horse-chestnut which well nigh remained a puzzle 
 to us all. We then passed through the garden 
 to the green-house which was built by the General. 
 This we found in a state of decay, the shingles on 
 the roof shrivelled to a fraction of their original size. 
 Inside however all looked thriving and blooming* 
 Among other plants and trees we noticed the myr- 
 tle, the orange, the cocoa-nut, the date, the palmet- 
 to, the laurentinus, and two magnificent specimens 
 of the sago, raised by General Washington and fif- 
 teen years old when he died. The rarities of the 
 green-house were pointed out and explained to us 
 by another slave or servant of the family, who seem- 
 ed to be the gardener and was highly intelligent and 
 polite. 
 
 We had now seen Mount Vernon — with all that 
 it contains hallowed by associations with the past, 
 with the good and the great — with all it has to 
 touch the heart of the stranger — the lover of his 
 country - — the lover of patriotism, virtue, and pie- 
 ty. In the short space of time we had been there 
 we had contracted a warm affection and deep rev- 
 erence for the spot, and when we left it, it was like 
 turning our backs upon an old and valued friend, 
 
105 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Return to the city. President's House — Apparte- 
 nances and Decorations — View from the Vesti- 
 bule. State Department — Curiosities. Patent 
 Rooms. Capitol — Rotundo — Library — Rep- 
 resentatives' Chamber — Senate Chamber — Cry- 
 pet — View from the Dome. 
 From Mt. Vernon we returned to the city, hav- 
 ing accomplished all that could be wished in a sin- 
 gle day. Our thoughts were all employed. Our 
 hearts were full. On the following morning we took 
 a curricle and drove to the President's House. 
 This was designed and completed by James Hoban, 
 It is built of white freestone, is two stories in height, 
 and has two entrances — one on either side — or- 
 namented with porticoes. We were not much 
 pleased with the portico on the side from which we 
 entered. The columns are at irregular distances 
 and have the appearance of plastered brick or stone. 
 We were ushered into a common apartment, sup- 
 ported by pillars resembling white marble, as they 
 probably were. It contains busts of Americus and 
 Columbus. They may be, for aught I know, very 
 good likenesses, but they certainly are rather ugly, 
 especially that of Americus. They are not what 
 imagination conceives, or demands. We then pass- 
 ed into a setting-room decorated with azure ceiling, 
 with satin-silk arm-chairs and window' curtains of the 
 same rich color. Busts of Washington and Gener- 
 al Jackson faced each other on opposite sides of the 
 
106 president's house. 
 
 room. That of Washington is very poor — that of 
 Jackson very good. We thence passed into the 
 great levee apartment. It is truly magnificent. It 
 is ninety or a hundred feet in length, and ornament- 
 ed with three candelabras, three centre tables of si- 
 enite marble, eight splendid mirrors, and four mir- 
 ror tables. You tread upon a rich and splendidly 
 figured carpet. The figure I do not exactly recol- 
 lect, but its prevailing colors are red and yellow, or 
 white. The sofas and easy-chairs are covered with 
 light-blue satin-silk. The walls are deep yellow 
 with a border of crimson. The curtains, some of 
 which are very gracefully supported by imitations of 
 the human arm thrown around them, are white, blue, 
 and light-yellow commingled. The room in some 
 particulars will hardly bear criticism. The light- 
 yellow of the curtains, deep-yellow of the walls and 
 scarlet borders hardly correspond. It was the unan- 
 imous opinion of our ladies that the carpet needed 
 the cleansiug effect of tea-leaves. — There are no 
 portraits, paintings, or engravings. — We next en- 
 tered the apartment where the General usually re- 
 ceives his friends. It is furnished in a simple but 
 costly manner. Its chief attraction is a fine paint- 
 ing of Washington by Stuart. General Jackson was 
 unable to make his appearance in consequence of 
 iudisposition. Though we had seen him before, we 
 regretted we could not witness his courtesy, and par- 
 take of his hospitality in the nation's palace. 
 
 Our next point was the vestibule on the South 
 
STATE DEPARTMENT. 107 
 
 side, looking towards the Potomac. The view is 
 very good, though the house being upon a somewhat 
 level site, cannot command a very extensive pros- 
 pect. The grounds on this side are diversi- 
 fied by some handsome swells clothed with 
 grass, are appropriately laid out, and, in the neigh- 
 borhood of the house, beautified with various flow- 
 ers and plants. On the whole it is a seat worthy 
 the people's idol. 
 
 We then drove to the building for the accomoda- 
 tion of the State Department, examined the Library 
 and other rooms, containing among their curiosites 
 the treaties made by the United States with foreign 
 nations. One in the Tukish language was very curious, 
 and attracted much notice. There were exhibited 
 to us the great seals of England, Sweden, France, 
 Russia, &c — the signatures, with their own hands, 
 of Alexander, Francis 1st, King John, Bernadotte, 
 the Sultan, Don Pedro, Louis Phillippe, Bonaparte, 
 &c. — the original Declaration of Independence as 
 penned by the father of the Rev. Dr. Palfrey, the 
 original Constitution of the United States, the Com- 
 mission of Washington as Commander-in-Chief of 
 the American forces, and his letter that accompanied 
 the Constitution of the U. S., also various Roman 
 coins, engravings on silver and gold, a gold box set 
 with a vast quantity of diamonds and valued by lapi- 
 daries at three thousand dollars, presented by the 
 Emperor of Russia to our Charge d 'Affaires for John 
 Quincy Adams, a singular shawl presented by the 
 
108 PATENT ROOMS THE CAPITOL. 
 
 Emperor of Muscat to a Lieutenant in the Navy, 
 Turkish guns from the Bey of Tunis, Turkish swords 
 from the Pacha of Egypt, &c. 
 
 The War Department came next, with its office 
 of Indian Affairs decorated with numberless por- 
 traits of Indian chiefs, squaws, and papooses. 
 
 The Patent rooms then received us, with their 
 heating, cooking, and ventilating apparatuses, &c. 
 A maze of inventions ! Pity they are no more. It 
 was one of the best illustrations of American charac- 
 ter. — We noticed a remarkable testimony to the 
 principles of phrenology in the vast organ of con- 
 structiveness developed on the head of the overseer. 
 
 The Capitol again. This building was designed 
 by William Thornton, and accepted by General 
 Washington. It is 215 feet above the level of Penn- 
 sylvania Avenue, built of the same materials with the 
 President's House, and has two magnificent wings. 
 On each of these wings is a low dome, and from the 
 centre of the building rises a third, large, lofty, and 
 noble. Porticoes of different style and magnitude 
 project from either side, and a stone balustrade en- 
 compasses the whole. The Rotundo is situated be- 
 twen the two wings, and is circular in shape. It is 
 marble throughout, with the exception of the green 
 baize door through which you enter and the sky- 
 light above. The floor is a solid and handsome pave- 
 ment; the arch is very elevated and grand. The light- 
 est footstep — the touch of a walking cane — con- 
 versation in a whisper are reverberated along the 
 
THE ROTUNDO LIBRARY. 109 
 
 walls and to the height of the dome in a most aston- 
 ishing manner. The sound of a melodious voice is 
 re-echoed so as to be exquisitely melodious. Soft 
 music comes to the ear in tones of witchery that it 
 possesses no where else. — In the niches are four 
 pieces of sculpture. One represents the landing of 
 our Pilgrim Fathers — another, a contest between 
 Daniel Boon, one of the first settlers of the West, 
 and an Indian Chief — the third, William Penn and 
 two Indian chiefs engaged in a treaty beneath an elm 
 tree on the eastern bank of the Delaware — the 
 fourth, the delivery of Capt. John Smith of Vir- 
 ginia memory from a violent death — the sentence of 
 King Powhatan. He is saved by the intercession 
 of Pocahontas, who almost breathes and speaks be- 
 fore the spectator. In the other niches are the 
 following paintings by Col. Trumbull : Decla- 
 ration of Independence — Surrender of Burgoyne 
 — Surrender of Cornwallis — Resignation of Wash- 
 ington at Annapolis in '83. 
 
 The Library Room is spacious, being ninety -two 
 feet long, thirty-four wide, and thirty-six high. It 
 contains twelve arched alcoves. A gallery extends 
 nearly round with recesses corresponding to the al 
 coves. Fluted pilasters, in imitation of the Octa- 
 gon Tower at Athens, adorn the several alcoves. 
 The number of volumes is about fourteen thousand. 
 There are in this room busts of Jefferson, La Fay- 
 ette, and Napoleon. That of La Fayette is poor. 
 
 The Chamber of the House of Representatives 
 
 10 
 
110 THE HALLS OF CONGRESS. 
 
 resembles an ancient Grecian Theatre. Its great- 
 est length is ninety feet, its height sixty. It is dec- 
 orated with twenty-four superb columns of mixed 
 marble or breccia, of the Corinthian order, quarried 
 from the banks of the Potomac. These support 
 capitals of white Italian marble, and rest on bases of 
 free-stone. A dome of remarkable beauty springs 
 from them, painted to represent the Pantheon at 
 Rome. This was done by Bonani, a young Italian 
 artist who died a few years since. An immense 
 chandelier of gilt bronze hangs from the centre. 
 The Speaker's chair is placed under a canopy. 
 Above it is a colossal figure of Liberty, and on the en- 
 tablature beneath the figure, the American Eagle. 
 Facing the chair, on the other side, is a fine statue 
 of marble, representing History. Red moreen hangs 
 fringed and festooned between the columns. A 
 full length portrait of La Fayette completes the dec- 
 oration of the Hall. 
 
 The Senate Chamber has the same form. Its 
 greatest length is seventy-five feet, its height forty- 
 five. A gallery extends nearly round supported by 
 Ionic columns of Potomac marble, with capitals in 
 omitation of those of Minerva Polias. The dome is 
 ornamented with caissons of stucco, and the walls 
 with drapery of straw-color between pilasters of mar- 
 ble. 
 
 Beneath the Rotundo is what has been denomi- 
 nated a Crypet, supporting the floor above by forty 
 columes. On the same level is the appartment used 
 
VIEW FROM THE DOME. Ill 
 
 by the Supreme Court of the United States. The 
 ceiling of this room which is somewhat peculiar, is 
 supported by massy Doric columns in imitation of 
 those in the temples of Faestum. There is a con- 
 centration of golden rays immediately over the head 
 of the Chief Justice. Three marble figures adorn 
 the East front — the Genius of America, Hope, and 
 Justice. In front of the Capitol, on the West side, 
 is a noble monument erected to the memory of the 
 American officers who fell in the Tripolitan war. 
 It was wrought in Italy and is contained within an 
 oblong marble vase. The ascent to the top of the 
 Dome is rather fatiguing, but one is sufficiently re- 
 paid by the view. The grounds about the Capitol 
 
 — Pennsylvania Avenue — the President's House 
 
 — the apparently distinct villages of the city — Co- 
 lumbian College — the Navy Yard — Greenleaf's 
 Point— the National Burying Ground — the Poto- 
 mac and the Bridge thereon — Georgetown — Mt. 
 Vernon, &c. all lie around you. — So much for 
 Washington and its environs. As Congress was not 
 in session and the Sabbath had passed, I have noth- 
 ing to say on politics or religion. The next day I 
 parted from my friends and stepped aboard a steam- 
 boat to descend the Potomac on my way to Vir- 
 ginia. 
 
112 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Fredericksburg. The Coachman a Slave-holder. 
 Conversation on Slavery. Richmond — Charac- 
 ter of the Inhabitants. Thoughts and Feelings. 
 Shockoe Hill. Monumental Church. Prome- 
 nade on the banks of James River. April in Vir- 
 ginia. Jewish Family. Wrecks on Chesapeake. 
 The view of Mt. Vernon from the river was 
 surpassingly beautiful. At Potomac Creek, forty- 
 five miles from Washington, my steamboat passage 
 was at an end, and I was under the necessity of 
 transferring myself to the stage-coach. Nine miles 
 brought me to Fredericksburg, a town situated on 
 the South side of the Rappahannock river. It con- 
 tains several thousand inhabitants. The chief ob- 
 ject of interest in the place is a touching monument 
 to the mother of Washington. 
 
 From F**. to Richmond is some over an hun- 
 dred miles. The several points on the route are 
 Vileboro', Bowling-Green, Matapony river, White 
 Chimneys, Hanover Court House, and Chickahom- 
 any River. 
 
 Out of Fredericksburg I took a seat upon the 
 stage box and ventured to converse with the driver, 
 who was a slave-holder, upon the subject of slave- 
 ry. I found him as willing to be free in speech as 
 myself. In the course of conversation he testified 
 to the truth of what many seem disposed to doubt 
 at the present day — that many of the slave-holders 
 are very hard masters. He told me that some fed 
 
THE COACHMAN A SLAVE-HOLDER. 11$ 
 
 their slaves upon nothing but salt-fish and bread, 
 and dealt out to them on Saturday night their allow- 
 ance for a week that;they let them have nothing but 
 straw to sleep on, and worked them from day-light 
 until sunrdown and after — a long day in mid-sum- 
 mer. — * Indeed we passed them in the fields — wo- 
 m3n as well as men — planting and plowing long af- 
 ter sunset. The women however prefer field-work 
 to house-work. — My informant remarked, they are 
 clothed in rags, their mode of living gives them a sort 
 of scurvy and enfeebles them, and this cause with in- 
 cessant labor brings on premature decay. This is the 
 treatment of some masters. Others, he said, fed them 
 well, clothed them well, and worked them no more 
 than they could bear. They saw that it was for their 
 interest to tieat them well. They took good care of 
 them as they would of their horses. For himself 
 he fed his negroes on bread and bacon and clothed 
 them with stuff similar to what he wore himself, 
 though a trifle coarser, and gave them three suits 
 yearly. When we arrived at his house — where the 
 stage-passengers usually dined — I took the oppor- 
 tunity to examine his negroes somewhat attentively, 
 but did not find them so well clothed as he repre- 
 sented. 
 
 He informed me moreover that the value of a 
 good negro was treble that of a good horse — that 
 there was much promiscuous intercourse among the 
 slaves, though a form of marriage was often used 
 and pronounced over them by the master or over- 
 
 10* 
 
J 14 CONVERSATION ON SLAVERT. 
 
 seer — that if a negro was detected in theft, he was- 
 lashed or branded in the hand, and the iron pressed 
 in until he repeated ( God save the Commonwealth ' 
 three times — and if one killed another, he was tried 
 and hung, and the owner indemnified by the State. 
 Hanging, said he, was too good for Nat Turner. 
 He ought to have been cut to pieces. I asked him 
 if he thought it probable that the negroes of Freder- 
 icksburg ever heard of the insurrection and its con- 
 sequences. He said, No. 
 
 This driver, whose lame as an upright and hon- 
 orable man had extended the country round, at his 
 inn or plantation resigned his honors to some one 
 else, and I took a seat inside the coach. Here I 
 had some talk with a young Virginian on the same 
 subject. The following are some of his observa- 
 tions. Good slaves are worth six or seven hundred 
 dollars. They are dog cheap at three or four hun- 
 dred dollars. Those most highly valued are from 
 sixteen to twenty-five years of age. A handsome 
 negress will sell for two or three thousand dollars. — 
 Negroes in Philadelphia are astonishingly impudent. 
 Johnny Randolph's slaves (he had three hundred) 
 were exceedingly polite — the finest of gentlemen. 
 — Negro-dealer, heretofore a term of reproach, is 
 now becoming more respectable. Many young men 
 make their fortunes in this kind of trade. — The 
 Virginians would get rid of slavery if they knew 
 how. They see its evil effects. 
 
 The coach rattled through the streets ot Rich- 
 
RICHMOND. |15 
 
 mond at twelve o'clock at night — the passengers 
 from Washington having been on the route since six 
 in the morning. It was now more than three weeks 
 since I left Boston and the whole expense of my 
 journey was less than sixty dollars. My fatigue 
 was so great the morning after my arrival that my 
 slumber was not broken until after ten o'clock, and 
 breakfast was served up at the very fashionable hour 
 of eleven. Slaves had been in my room early in 
 the morning. Slaves waited upon me at table. 
 Slaves had cooked and prepared all — and all scen- 
 ted and tasted of slavery. I could drink nothing — 
 could eat nothing. Slavery became to me the all 
 absorbing idea. It was my meat and drink for days. 
 It occasioned me much anxiety and distress of mind. 
 Richmond is a city of twenty thousand inhabitants 
 and half of them are slaves. They are with you in 
 the house and by the way — in the chamber — the 
 dining room — the market — the shop — the street 
 — at morning and evening — at all times. They 
 do every thing for you. They are ever at your el- 
 bow. They are like the frogs of Egypt: you can- 
 not escape them. 
 
 Richmond is a peculiar city. There is little to re- 
 mind one of N.England. People think differently — 
 feel differently — talk differently — pronounce differ- 
 ently — sing differently — look differently — dress dif- 
 ferently — live differently — do differently. I mean 
 no disparagement to the Virginians. Their ways 
 may be as good as ours. Certain it is that in many 
 
116 CHARACTER OF THE INHABITANTS. 
 
 respects the}' e%ce\ us. The mule-teams in the 
 street driven by noisy and cruel masters (slaves!!) 
 have altogether a strange aspect. Indeed one could 
 not feel himself farther from home if he had crossed 
 the Atlantic and was truly in a foreign land. There 
 are churches, and the Sabbath is observed ; but 
 they are not New England churches, and the Sab- 
 bath is not observed as in New England. The 
 Thanksgivings and Fasts of New England are not 
 there. The morality and sanctity of New England 
 are not there. Slavery rests like a great curse up- 
 on them. It is the worst of all evils. Of this it is 
 true that many of the Virginians are aware and de- 
 precate the same.— You sit at table. You are sur- 
 prized thefamily is not poisonedby those who have the 
 power in their hands. You are in the slreet. You 
 think it strange that kisty mule-driver is driven by 
 his brothers in the flesh. You walk along the banks 
 of the canal. You can hardly believe that hard- 
 -fisted, brawny-muscled man, forcing along that 
 boat-load ol merchandize, is not free. After ser- 
 vice on the Sabbath you pass the African Church. 
 A multitude is pouring out and has already covered 
 the pavement, a dense and mighty mass. You won- 
 der that so many fine athletic frames are not anima- 
 ted by daring spirits, that they do not rise in ven- 
 geance and strike a desperate blow for their liber- 
 ties. On a holiday (they have many in the course 
 of a year) you see them standing by scores at the 
 corners of the streets, and hear the loud laugh of 
 
THOUGHTS AMD FEELINGS. ] 17 
 
 jolity resound from far and near. You cannot per- 
 suade yourself that such happy beings are not their 
 own masters — that they are the property of others, 
 bought and sold like sheep in the shambles. You 
 go to the capitol. An armed sentinel treads its floor. 
 He is there night and day. When he is asleep, 
 the city sleeps not safely. He is the watchman, but 
 not of ireedom. He is the eye of jealousy — the 
 arm of power — the keeper of the bondman. You 
 go to the market place. You see the fruits of long 
 years of degradation and oppression in the ragged, 
 decrepit, broken, unmanned, half-embruted,and mis- 
 erable objects that greet you on every side. Wheth- 
 er the number would be diminished if slavery were 
 no more, many wise men question. You wind your 
 way to the neighboring hill. You tread that hallow- 
 ed spot of graves. You enter that simple rustic 
 church where the eloquence of Patrick Henry was 
 first enkindled and burned bright with the flame of 
 freedom, and can hardly realize that the chains of 
 slavery still clank around, and the air of freedom is 
 wafted only to the white man's breast. You may 
 not be an abolitionist. It is unnecessary you should 
 be in order to the rise of such thoughts and feelings. 
 Richmond is situated on the northern bank of the 
 James river. The land rises gradually to a con- 
 siderable elevation from the river, and on what is 
 called Shockoe hill, which is the highest point, lies 
 much of the Town. The principal buildings on 
 this site are the Court-House, the Powhatan House 
 
118 MONUMENTAL CHURCH PROMENADE. 
 
 (an extensive public boarding-house), the Capitol, 
 and the Monumental Church erected on the spot 
 where the theatre was burnt. Ninety individuals 
 were consumed in the flames, and to the memory 
 of their unhappy fate a monument stands in the ves- 
 tibule of the Church. From the Capitol the view 
 of the city reposing beneath your feet, of the James 
 river, and the country in the vicinity is highly 
 picturesque. Richmond is at the head of tide wa- 
 ter, near the lower falls of the river, and one hun- 
 dred and fifty miles from its outlet into the Chesa- 
 peake. The wide promenade along the banks of 
 the James, embowered in trees, with the clear wa- 
 ter of the canal enlivened by sounds of merchand- 
 ize on one side, and the romantic falls of the James 
 fifty or a hundred feet below you and extending for 
 miles on the other, has no equal to my knowledge 
 in the Northern States. Beyond the canal you look 
 into the depth of a wild and boundless forest. Be- 
 yond the river your eye rests upon the houses of 
 Manchester, a town of some magnitude, or ranges 
 over the partially cultivated country. It was early 
 in April when I was in Richmond. In Boston and 
 the vicinity the East winds blew cold, and tore your 
 lungs to tatters — every body was wrapped up in 
 flannel and woollen — the fields were cheerless and 
 the trees bare. On the contrary in R. the temper- 
 ature was warm and the breezes bland — flannel 
 and woollen were thrown aside for the light gar- 
 ments of summer — the fields were sreen and the 
 
JEWISH FAMILY. 119 
 
 trees leafed out, and their abundant blossoming filled 
 the air with delicious fragrance. 
 
 The church of our denomination is a small brick 
 edifice, similar in construction and external appear- 
 ance to the Jewish Synagogue, which is but little 
 distant also in the same street. — It was my good for- 
 tune to have letters to a Jewish family in the city. 
 What was my surprize, when ushered into their 
 dwelling, to behold a portrait of the Rev. Dr. Chan- 
 ning. I saw much of them and received expres- 
 sions and proofs of kindness which it will never, I 
 fear, be in my power to repay. In partial justice 
 to them, I cannot deny myself the satisfaction of 
 saying that it is not often one's lot to meet persons 
 of such intelligence, sensibility, refinement, hos- 
 pitality and genuine Christian feelings. They re- 
 ceive attention from the first circles of the city, visit 
 on the most friendly terms with Episcopalians, Pres- 
 byterians, &c. and are very much respected and 
 beloved. In about ten days I left Richmond in the 
 river-steamboat. The sail to Norfolk affords much 
 variety and is extremely pleasant. You pass many 
 fine old seats of the Virginia planters — Jamestown 
 where the English first settled — the Rip Raps 
 of Presidential memory &c. The night we were 
 on the Chesapeake there was a violent gale, and the 
 next morning we passed two wrecked vessels that had 
 been blown over with their sails set. Our Capt. as- 
 sured us that all board must have inevitably per- 
 ished. We passed within a few feet of them and it 
 
120 WRECKS ON THE CHESAPEAKE. 
 
 was a most distressing spectacle. There was the 
 silence of death upon the waters. Sadness pressed 
 upon every heart, and was visible upon every brow. 
 
 * * Thou deep and dark blue ocean * • 
 Upon the watery plain 
 
 The wrecks are all thy seeds, nor doth remain 
 A shadow of man's ravage save his own, 
 When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, 
 He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, 
 Without a grave, unknell'd uncofhVd, and unknown. 
 
 The afternoon of the same day I reached Balti- 
 more, having been two days and a night on the 
 passage. In a few days in Boston again. 
 
DOWN EAST AGAIN 
 
 m 
 
 Ellsworth — Character of the Inhabitants. Reli- 
 gious Condition. Our place of Worship. Pro- 
 gress. Lyceum. Odd Events. 
 
 Nine months in the East again. Ellsworth was 
 the sphere of ray ministerial labors. This town is 
 twenty -four miles south-east of Bangor, and plase- 
 antly situated on either bank of Union river. I have 
 heard it called by a traveller the handsomest town 
 on the shore road from Halifax to Boston. All 
 towns much larger must not be brought into the com- 
 parison. Ellsworth is a small town containing no 
 more than fifteen or sixteen hundred inhabitants. Its 
 local situation however will not suffer much com- 
 pared with that of any of the eastern towns. Along 
 the banks of the rapid river are some bold beetling 
 crags, and a wild woody eminence on which the 
 wigwams of the Penobscot Indians are seen at cer- 
 tain seasons of the year, where it would not be dif- 
 ficult to get up a little romantic sensibility. The 
 view from some parts of the town of the Schoodic 
 hills on the North East, of the broad blue waters of 
 Patten's bay and the Mount Desert Chain on the 
 South, is such as deeply to impress the imagination 
 of the lover of nature. 
 
 The village contains about five hundred inhabi- 
 tants and has an appearance of newness. Out of the 
 
 11 
 
122 CHARACTER OF THE INHABITANTS. 
 
 village the town exhibits all the evidences of long 
 settlement. The inhabitants are remarkable for res- 
 olution, enterprize, and natural vigor of understand- 
 ing. Every thing is taken up with warmth ; and al- 
 most all subjects, especially trade, politics and re- 
 ligion, give rise to competition — the first two, 
 at times, to bitter jealousy and its evil conse- 
 quences. The social circle is very good, though 
 small. Several families, some of which are from 
 Massachusetts, have given considerable attention to 
 literary pursuits and would be deemed cultivated any 
 where. The inhabitants generally are something 
 uncouth and do not appreciate what are denomina- 
 ted the humanities of life. Among Eastern towns 
 however E*. is not alone in this respect. — When 
 I went to E*. there were two religious Societies in 
 the place, a Baptist and Trinitarian. Liberal Chris- 
 tianity had never been preached, and its character 
 was hardly known. The old minister of the Trini- 
 tarian Society (who is now living and is a man of lib- 
 eral mind and genuine Christian feelings), though 
 not regarded by the Orthodox clergy as perfectly 
 sound in the faith, never was an acknowledged Uni- 
 tarian. — His successor, who was for some years a 
 preacher to the seamen in Portland, and whose ur- 
 banity, intelligence, and social harmony are still a- 
 mong my pleasant recollections, is, I believe, re- 
 garded as sound — without blemish and without 
 spot. I do not mean by this that he is bigoted — 
 far from it. He has too much of the milk of hu- 
 
OUR PLACE OF WORSHIP. 123 
 
 man kindness in him for that. — Being the first to 
 enter the place as the representative of our denomi- 
 nation, I expected to meet with much prejudice and 
 opposition, and was told that such would be the 
 case. To my surprize and very agreeable disap- 
 pointment it was not so. The only place for wor- 
 ship that could be obtained at the outset was a 
 school-room in the second story of a building near 
 the bridge that crosses Union river. Every thing 
 that passed over the bridge shook the building and 
 pulpit very much and not perceiving the cause at 
 first, I thought it was an earthquake. In a few Sab- 
 baths we obtained the use of the Baptist Church for 
 a little while, and at length removed to the Court 
 House which was to be our permanent place of wor- 
 ship. This was a new building and but partially 
 completed. The Society finished the Court-room, 
 erecting open pews, a very convenient pulpit and 
 and singing-seats, at an expense of five hundred dol- 
 lars. The larger part of this sum they expected 
 the town would refund. A Sabbath School was 
 formed which flourished very well, and a Benevolent 
 Society among the ladies — which was the means of 
 doing considerable good. A subscription for the 
 erection of a church was started at the expiration of 
 a few months, and an amount of twenty-seven hun- 
 dred dollars easily obtained. 
 
 The Lyceum producing, as is thought, a very fa- 
 vorable influence upon the moral and religious as 
 well as intellectual character of a people, one was 
 
124 LYCEUM. 
 
 set in motion. There was a debate or lecture ev- 
 ery week. It was continued without intermission 
 and without assistance from abroad for a period of 
 four or five months, and with an interest and suc- 
 cess hardly to be expected. Let it be recollected 
 there were but five hundred inhabitants in the vil- 
 lage. I have little doubt that an abler Senate might 
 have been formed out of the acting members of the 
 Lyceum than that at Augusta. 
 
 Neither the audience nor the Sabbath School 
 was large. Perhaps they were as large however as 
 could be expected in a town of this size. Since I 
 left the Society has settled a minister and, I be- 
 lieve, continues to increase and strengthen. 
 
 Some odd events. — One warm afternoon in Au- 
 gust when our service was held in the Baptist 
 Church, which is situated on an eminence com- 
 manding a view of the village and the country be- 
 yond, a somewhat singular event occurred. The 
 windows of the church were thrown up and the door 
 spread wide to admit the fresh airs of heaven. It 
 was a lovely season. The winds were asleep. The 
 birds were chanting on the trees, and all was fair and 
 tranquil as if cc the bridal of the earth and sky." 
 The sermon was finished and the last hymn had just 
 been given out, when during that dead pause which 
 precedes the swelling forth of the music of the choir, 
 a tall young man, in his shirt-sleeves, entered the 
 church in a calm and dignified manner, and marched 
 up the broad-aisle . I presumed that, whoever he 
 
ODD EVENTS. 125 
 
 was, he would take a seat in one of the pews. But 
 no! his mission seemed to be onward. I heard his 
 footsteps on the pulpit stairs, and in a moment or two 
 he presented himself before me. He reached out 
 his hand — I gave him mine. He shook it and 
 asked me how I did, then took a seat on the cush- 
 ion close beside me. All eyes were turned in a- 
 mazement towards the pulpit. It was natural I 
 should be a little astonished. Though unable to 
 comprehend the purpose of this unexpected visiter 
 and hardly knowing what to do, I was not discon- 
 certed. I turned towards him and gave him a sharp 
 look to read, if possible, his intent in the expression 
 of his countenance. He appeared perfectly at home 
 and was taking a leisurely survey of the audience 
 and choir. I said to him with some firmness, im? 
 plying no great satisfaction with his presence in the 
 pulpit, ' Had n't you better, sir, take a seat in a 
 pew below ?' He looked at me for a moment — 
 rose — bowed — descended the stairs, and went in- 
 to the first wall pew. He remained there quiet 
 through the service and also the exercises of the 
 Sabbath School, and then left the house. I was 
 somewhat curious to find out who he was and what 
 he intended by such sort of conduct, and learned 
 that he was a stranger — an unfortunate young man 
 ■ — actuated by no evil purpose, nay, much to be com- 
 misserated. Some time before this event, he acci- 
 dentally ran something into his foot, which severed 
 some of the cords, and ever since he had been sub- 
 
 n* 
 
126 ODD EVENTS. 
 
 ject to periodica] fits of derangement. In one of 
 these he had strayed away from home, and passing 
 by the open church door and every thing within 
 inviting him, he entered without ceremony and made 
 for the pulpit to form acquaintance with the preach- 
 er and have a fair view of the audience. 
 
 At another time, while preaching an extempora- 
 neaus sermon upon the wisdom and goodness of 
 God as manifested in the laws and arrangements of 
 the Universe, the door of our place of worship was 
 thrown open, and in rolled a seaman dressed in the 
 insignia of his craft, the tarpaulin hat and pea-jacket. 
 He came in with a nonchalant air and a curse-me-if- 
 I-care sort of manner, threw his tarpaulin upon the 
 seat near the door, and dropped down himself. As 
 soon as he entered I perceived that he was the worse 
 for something that had found its way to his stomach 
 and thence to his brain, and somewhat feared he 
 might disturb me in the train of my thoughts, espe- 
 cially as I had nothing to rely upon but a few notes. 
 The noise he made was considerable, and I paused 
 until he was quietly seated, and then went on. 
 Whatever relates to the heavenly bodies — those 
 guiding-lights upon the watery waste — is apt to in- 
 terest the way-farer of the deep. I noticed that the 
 seaman's attention was engaged. In a short time 
 his elbows dropped upon his knees, his face upon 
 his hands, and he fixed upon me a pair of the keen- 
 est black eyes. In the course of my remarks the 
 subject of the moon's distance, phases, magnitude, 
 
ODD EVENTS. 127 
 
 time of revolution, and force of gravitation was in- 
 troduced. There was an open space in front of the 
 seat where he sat, making him quite conspicuous. 
 All of a sudden he rose up, seized his tarpaulin, 
 clapped it upon his head, extended his arms to their 
 full length and shouted to the top of his lungs, — 
 4 Ship-mates — a lunar observation!' — I gave way 
 to him and sat down. He was evidently about to 
 proceed, but the audience did not seem disposed to 
 hear him out, and two of them seized him in the 
 height of his celestial enthusiasm, and led him out- 
 side the door. It was quite clear they considered 
 him something of a lunatic, and wished him to fin- 
 ish his lunary in a more suitable place. The floor 
 being left to me, I took up the thread of my dis- 
 course. The seaman was quite indignant at this, as 
 he conceived, uncourteous treatment and in a mo- 
 ment or two came back. It was thought best to re- 
 move him again and lock the door. He tried it sev- 
 eral times without success, then took a turn round 
 the house, muttering to himself in hot passion. At 
 length some individuals went out and coaxed him 
 down the hill into the centre of the village. — Thus 
 ended this curious adventure. The next day a lit- 
 tle of his history was found out. He proved to be 
 a ship-wrecked mariner on his way to the West. 
 Passing through town on the Sabbath he had depos- 
 ited some of his pittance at a bar-room or tippling- 
 shop, and, in sad plight in consequence, had stroll 
 
123 ODD EVENTS. 
 
 ed up to the house of Him who cannot look upon 
 sin but with displeasure. 
 
 The incident of the seaman reminds me of an- 
 other which occurred in a neighboring town. I 
 was preaching a sermon the object of which was 
 to give a general view of our faith — to set in as 
 clear a light as possible what Liberal Christians be- 
 and what they do not believe. In the midst of my 
 remarks the stillness of the house was suddenly bro- 
 ken by a deep and awful groan. It penetrated to 
 the very bottom of my heart. Whence it came, by 
 whom it was uttered, and for what purpose, if vol- 
 untary, were to me mysterious. It occurred to me 
 shortly that there might be some Methodist, 
 Baptist, Hopkinsian, or hot-headed partisan present, 
 who was shocked at the simplicity and beauty of 
 Liberal Christianity, and could not but give vent to 
 a horrific groan, such as might come up from the 
 tortured bosoms of the lost. It aroused my spirits. 
 The truth, thought I, ought to bespoken boldly and 
 I was resolved not to be daunted. On I. proceeded 
 in a louder and deeper tone, and the latter half of 
 the discourse was delivered with doubly increased 
 life and vigor. After service it was natural for me to 
 inquire out the author of this novel interruption and 
 the meaning thereof. The explanation was a little 
 different from what I expected and was somewhat 
 amusing. There proved to be a member of the 
 society, a rugged worker in iron, subject to uncon- 
 trollable fits of gaping. These were accompanied 
 
ODD EVENTS. 129 
 
 by deep groans of less or greater length, as the case 
 might be. It was not the first time the audience 
 had been greeted therewith, and they had got in a 
 measure accustomed to them. It seemed to me a 
 wise suggestion, which I offered partly from a be- 
 nevolent feeling towards other clergymen, that the 
 gaper be requested to take his seat hereafter next 
 the door, that when he perceived his mouth stretch- 
 ing wide, he might seize his hat and run for his life. 
 Perhaps I shall be excused for mentioning anoth- 
 er circumstance, though of a trifling nature, which 
 occurred in Hancock, a town but lew miles distant 
 from Ellsworth. I had been invited to preach an 
 evening lecture at this place. It was mid-winter. 
 I rode out in a sleigh and put up (for the night) at 
 the house of a plain farmer of the old school, who 
 had carried the mail in this part of the country on 
 foot or horseback for many years. I was surprized 
 to learn he was the brother of G. L. Esq., recently 
 Mayor of the city of N. York and a remarkable in- 
 stance of one, who from the lowest walks of life 
 has risen to wealth and distinction. The old far- 
 mer told me he had not seen his brother, until re- 
 cently, for forty years. But to return to the ser- 
 vice. It was held in a school-house a mile or more 
 distant. We rode to it and found It to be a room 
 in the back part of a dwelling-house. The audi- 
 ence after a while assembled and the the time ior the 
 lecture arrived. I was ushered into the apartment. 
 There was but a single light and that a tallow can- 
 
130 ODD EVENTS* 
 
 die. Only in the vicinity of this, which stood up- 
 on a desk near the fire-place, was the darkness made 
 visible. How far the apartment extended back, or 
 how much of an audience I had, I knew not. I 
 could see but the front line, consisting of men, wo- 
 men, and children. To use the flickering flame to 
 the best advantage, I took my station in front of the 
 desk and commenced the service. All went on tol- 
 erably until I got a little into my sermon. By this 
 time the sooty wick had become unconscionably 
 long, and the darkness of the room began to be in- 
 visible. There were no snufTers. The crisis was 
 at hand and something must be done without delay. 
 So I called upon the audience for snuffers. After 
 some bustle they were produced. I snuffed the 
 candle and went on. I had not proceeded far when 
 one of the children got loose from its mother's arms, 
 ran up to me, seized me by the knees and, raising 
 itself on tip-toe, looked me earnestly in the face, as 
 much as to say, 4 Do take me — do take me. ' It 
 was no time to play with children, so on I preach- 
 ed with as much composure as I could. The child 
 continued playing about me for some time, unmo- 
 lested by mother, myself, or any part of the audi- 
 ence, and at length tottered back whence it came. 
 After the lecture I was informed that the number of 
 my hearers was about sixty, and that many who had 
 never heard one of our denomination preach, had 
 come a distance of several miles, 
 
DEA.TH WITHOUT WARNING. 131 
 
 { Watch therefore, for ye know not what hour your 
 Lord doth come.'' 
 
 Perhaps the reader may be willing by this time 
 to turn from incidents of an amusing to one of a se- 
 rious character. 
 
 The changes of the world and the uncertainty of 
 life have ever been themes of solemn declamation 
 and warning. Reposing on the lap of prosperity 
 and buoyed up by the joyous spirit of health it is 
 difficult for us to realize these unquestioned and un- 
 questionable truths. We are told that we know not 
 what a day may bring forth, and yet we lay our plans 
 and anticipate such and such issues almost with cer- 
 tainty. The events of every day are, as it were, 
 mapped out before our vision, and we feel very 
 much as if we had the determination and arrange- 
 gement of all things in our hands. We seem to be 
 unaware that all changes and events are under the 
 direction of superior intelligence, that our own times 
 are at the disposal of him who called us into exist- 
 ence. 
 
 We are very likely to say to ourselves the follow- 
 ing, or something similar : 'To-day or to-morrow 
 we will go into such a city and continue there a year 
 and buy and sell and get gain ;' whereas, in the 
 language of the apostle, c we know not what shall 
 be on the morrow, for what is cur life ? It is even 
 a vapor.' We should, as the apostle would have 
 us, recognize the providence of God. We should 
 bear in mind that life is uncertain and that we can- 
 
132 DEATH WITHOUT WARNING. 
 
 not count with any assurance upon a succession of 
 years, or months, or even days. This should be 
 the language of our lips — c If the Lord will, we shall 
 live, and do this, or that.' 
 
 These thoughts have been suggested to my mind 
 by an event of melancholy interest. 
 
 The circumstances were of that nature that I can- 
 not but feel myself justified in alluding to them in a 
 public manner. It is not however my intention to 
 flatter the deceased, or even to discuss the elements 
 of his character, but to contemolate the manner of 
 his death and indulge in those reflections which 
 naturally arise. If those who read derive any spir- 
 itual benefit from the contemplation of this event, 
 the purpose for which it is introduced will be an- 
 swered. I trust the privilege will be granted me 
 of a somewhat minute narration. 
 
 On Saturday, 14th October, 1837, I went to 
 Scituate. The clergyman of the Parish being ab- 
 sent with his family on a visit to Connecticut, ac- 
 commodations were provided for me at the resi- 
 dence of Dr. Otis, the principal physician of the 
 place. Some years previous I had been at his 
 house, and of course did not feel myself to be a 
 perfect stranger. He received me in that cordial 
 and hospitable manner for which he was distinguish- 
 ed. He had been indisposed for a few days from 
 a disorder common to the season, but now consid- 
 ered hj[mself as about recovered. This disorder 
 was altogether independent of that which so sud- 
 
DEATH WITHOUT WARNING. 133 
 
 denly brought him to his end. His countenance in- 
 dicated health and the enjoyment oflife. I remark- 
 ed to him, in the course of the conversation that his 
 aspect was that of one who had been favored with 
 good health. c Yes,' said he, ' I have been highly 
 favored, and I ought to be grateful. Since I com- 
 menced the practice of physic — which is forty-five 
 years — I. have never been prevented by indisposi- 
 tion from visiting my patients day and night. I have 
 never been really sick.' c Very remarkable indeed,' 
 I replied. ' You have been truly favored.' He 
 further observed, < I have been in the practice so 
 long I have got tired of it. It is no object to me, and 
 if I find my health at all affected hereafter, I shall 
 give up the most of my business.' He retired for 
 the night in good season, and early in the morning 
 was called to visit a patient. He went, and seemed 
 to be perfectly well when he returned, and contin- 
 ued so. through the day. During the evening he 
 was in uncommonly good spirits, conversed with 
 great freedom on a variety of subjects, and was al- 
 ternately playful and serious. In the course of the 
 evening he had much to say about the old English 
 worthies in literature, and sent his daughter for a 
 copy of Goldsmith's essays and poems. He read 
 aloud to me the c Retaliation ', in which are con- 
 tained the portraits of various literary characters of 
 distinction. He read with peculiar interest, and re- 
 read the descriptions of the character of Burke, 
 Richard Cumberland, David Garrick, Sir Joshua 
 
 12 
 
134 DEATH WITHOUT WARNING, 
 
 Reynolds, and Dr. Douglas. He finished by a 
 recitation of the poetical epistle to Lord Clare on 
 the reception from him of a haunch of venison. 
 This piece is somewhat humorous and satirical. He 
 read in a loud tone and with great zest. In reading 
 he was obliged to assume different characters, and 
 his voice admitting of much variety and compass, he 
 succeeded to my admiration. Such spirited and 
 correct recitation, and from one who had nearly 
 reached three-score years and ten, was altogether 
 surprizing. The tones of his clear and sonorous 
 voice still ring in my ears. As I gazed at him — 
 all life and action — his clear and spacious browun- 
 wrinkled by care or age — his tall and majestic 
 form, as erect and vigorous as when the airs of youth 
 played around him — I could not but say to myself, 
 here is a man that will withstand the tempests ol life 
 for manv years. If any are likely to reach a good 
 old asie, it is he now before me. His locks are 
 grey, but time will have an opportunity to whiten 
 them. It will be years before he wrinkles that cheer- 
 ful brow, or bends that lofty frame. It will be long 
 before the silver cord is loosed and the golden bowl 
 broken. — He had sent word to one of his neigh- 
 bors that if he went to Boston in the morning and 
 had time to call, he wished much to see him. At 
 half past nine he retired perfectly well, and awoke 
 perfectly well. He said to his wife, c I feel so well 
 that I have a mind to go to Boston to-day.' Be- 
 tween seven and eight he arose, and as his ward- 
 
DEATH WITHOUT WARNING. 135 
 
 robe was nearly completed, he suddenly fell his length 
 upon the floor. It was a fall from which he never 
 arose. The swift dart of death had pierced him 
 through the heart. 
 
 He was alone. I was in the room beneath stand- 
 ing by the window and, what is remarkable enough, 
 perusing some of those passages which he had reci- 
 ted so admirably the night before. The fall was 
 heavy. A groan immediately followed and all was 
 still. Of the extent of the calamity I did not dream. 
 — Perhaps some one had leaped, or fallen from a 
 chair and got hurt a little. In a few minutes the 
 cry of death reached my ears, and the shriek of ag- 
 ony resounded through the apartments. I ascended 
 the stairs to the room above, and there lay that no- 
 ble form in the arms of women, whose eyes dropt 
 tears of deepest sorrow. The struggle seemed to 
 be over, and the shadows of death to have descend- 
 ed upon him. He spake not. He moved not. His 
 eyes rolled heavy and lustreless in their sockets. 
 We replaced him on his couch. I felt his pulse. 
 It was gone. I placed my hand upon his brow. It 
 was yet warm with life. The vital spark however 
 had flown, and no physician's art could rekindle or 
 recall it. 
 
 ' The agony is o'er ; nature her debt 
 
 Has paid : the earth is covered with a clay 
 
 That once was animate, and even yet 
 
 Is warm with an existence reft away 
 
 By Him who gave. It were but yesterday 
 
 This clay peopled a happy universe 
 
136 DEATH WITHOUT WARNING. 
 
 With beings buoyant, beautiful and gay, 
 But now, alas !' 
 
 He lies struck with instantaneous death — the flame 
 of life extinguished before he could c utter one re- 
 gret for life — one thought for his family — one 
 prayer to God.' She, but just a widow, falls upon 
 his face and wets it with scalding tears. c And can 
 it be ? O, that I had come to you a moment sooner! 
 0, that you could have spoken to me but a word.' 
 But let me not trespass upon private sorrow. The sad 
 tidings ran through the village, and friend and neigh- 
 bor came, one after another, to the house of mourn- 
 ing. The universal salutation, ' how sudden! how 
 awful!' The universal sentiment, 'A skillful healer of 
 disease — a rescuer of his fellow-men from death — 
 a man of opulence and distinguished for his public ca- 
 reer — an ardent friend to religion— a father of the 
 town has been struck from existence, as it were, by 
 fire from Heaven. A great man has fallen this day in 
 Israel. To him may be applied with peculiar ap- 
 propriateness and truth these lines from a hymn to 
 death by one of our most spiritual poets. They 
 seem to be written for his epitaph. 
 
 Oh, cut off 
 
 Untimely! when thy reason in its strength, 
 Ripened by years of toil and studious search, 
 And watch of nature's silent lessons, taught 
 Thy hand to practice best the lenient art ! 
 * * * * 
 
 * Tears were in unyielding eyes 
 And on hard cheeks, and they who deemed thy skill 
 Delayed their death-hour, shuddered and lurned pale 
 When thou wert gone* 
 
DEATH WITHOUT WARNING. 137 
 
 We know not what shall be on the morrow ; for 
 what is our life ? It is a vapor which appearethfor 
 a little time then vanisheth away. Little did I think 
 to be called to witness so dark a picture in human 
 life, to pass through so sad an experience when I 
 left my residence. I hope however I brought back 
 a lesson both for myself and others. Reader, trust not 
 tomorrow. You know not what tomorrow may bring 
 forth. Be not over-anxious for the things of this 
 life. You may not live to enjoy them. This night 
 thy soul may be required of thee. Prepare for death 
 while in life, for in life you are in the midst of death. 
 c Be wise to-day — 'tis madness to defer.' Now 
 is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation. 
 
 12* 
 
1 n $ 
 
 NORTH RIVER, 
 
 West Point. Hyde Park. Catskill Mountains. 
 Alligators, so called. Athens. Hudson. Kin- 
 derhook. Albany. Saratoga Springs. Over 
 the ^fountains home. 
 
 The latter part of the summer of — in company 
 with a friend I took a trip to New York, up the 
 North River to Saratoga Springs, and over the 
 Green Mountains home. On the river Weehaw- 
 ken, where General Hamilton received his death- 
 wound — the Palisadoes with Fort Lee perched up- 
 on their summit — Tappan and Haverstraw Bay, 
 with their romantic associations — the sublime scen- 
 ery of the Highlands and West Point — that im- 
 pregnable fortress — the scene of Arnold's conspir- 
 acy — all, it is needless to say, excited in us the 
 deepest interest. West Point, where we made our 
 first stop, is so well known and has been so well de- 
 scribed that it would be presumptuous in me to at- 
 tempt anything more than an allusion to its various 
 objects of attraction. These are (to say nought of 
 the splendid Hotel — the various Government buil- 
 dings and the wild picturesque scenery) the famous 
 garden, or retreat of Kosciusko — the marble mon- 
 ument erected to his memory ; one of the chastest 
 in America — a monument to the memory of Col- 
 onel Wood who was killed while heading a 
 charge at the sortie from Fort Erie — another to 
 
WEST POINT. 139 
 
 that of a certain cadet who was killed while breast- 
 ing a cannon on the Green — and Fort Putnam tow- 
 ering above you near six hundred feet. I ought not 
 to forget the morning and evening Parade — their 
 illuminated camps at night, and the soul-stirring mu- 
 sic of the U. States band. Thirty cadets are on 
 guard in the day and ten at night. They are relieved 
 eveiy two hours at night, and,if they sleepon guard ? 
 are expelled. They are on camp duty two months 
 of the year and the remaining ten are stationed in 
 the Barracks. These are large brick buildings, like 
 ourColleges which are guarded as well as the camps. 
 Each Cadet is an expense to Government of three 
 hundred and thirty-six dollars yearly. Two hundred 
 and fifty of them are admitted at a time at an ex- 
 pense of g84,000. 
 
 We left WestPoint casting a lingering look behind* 
 The hills known by the poetical appellations of 
 Bull's Head — Break-Neck — Crows' Nest— and 
 Butter's Hill soon look down upon us on either 
 shore. Thirty miles from W # .P # . Hyde Park, on 
 the East side of the river, breaks upon the view of 
 a place never to be forgotten — with its swells of 
 living green, its superb array of trees, and its 
 princely dwellings. In about two hours we reached 
 the foot of the Catskil Mountains. The highest 
 of these Mountains is from three to four thousand 
 feet in height. We rode, or rather walked and 
 rode from the village to Pine Orchard — a distance 
 of some twelve miles. In this are included tfie 
 
140 CATSKILL MOUNTAINS. 
 
 three miles of ascent from the base to the summit 
 of the mountain, for Pine Orchard is on the summit. 
 Halfway up we stopped at a shanty to quench our 
 thirst with the cool water of a spring. Here my 
 eye caught the following inscription : 
 
 Rip Van Winkle will frankly own, 
 
 That drinking water all alone, 
 
 Although it makes folks comfortable, 
 
 Is not to him so profitable, 
 
 And hopes those who for conscience sake 
 
 A drop of liquor dare not take, 
 
 Who stop for water as they pass, 
 
 Will pay the pay the boy who brings the glass. 
 
 On the summit there is extensive Hotel erected 
 at great expense by an incorporated company. It 
 is twenty two hundred feet above the level of the 
 Hudson. It is enough for me to say of the prospect 
 from this spot, as it has been often described, 
 that in extent and variety it hardly has its equal in 
 the country. The Falls, which impart to this place 
 its chief interest, are two miles from the Hotel. 
 There are two, one directly beneath the other. The 
 first is one hundred and seventy -five feet — the sec- 
 ond eighty-five — making in reality one of two hun- 
 dred and sixty feet. The Platform between the 
 Falls is wide, allowing a person to pass under- 
 neath, back of the second fall, no less than seven- 
 ty feet. The guide informed us that to the lowest 
 point of the bed of the river it was three hundred 
 and ten feet. It will be recollected that Niagara 
 measures but 164 feet on the American side and no 
 
ALLIGATORS — -SO CALLED. 141 
 
 more than 158 on the English. However the quan- 
 tity of water at Catskil is comparatively small. The 
 peculiar character of the Falls — the wild, rocky, 
 and almost bottomless ravine into which the waters 
 descend end disappear — »and the striking amphithe- 
 atre of woody hills, which seems intended as a guard 
 them against intrusion, render them an object of no 
 common attraction to the man of cultivated taste 
 and poetic imagination. 
 
 On our way to them through the forests we cap- 
 tured two harmless gold-spotted lizards — alligators, 
 as my friend called them. Not doubting they were 
 as dangerous to handle as the alligators of the Mis- 
 sissippi, we approached them with singular caution. 
 We took them captive by a process that deserves 
 notice. We procured a long straw, tied a loop in 
 the middle, and each holding an end, approached 
 the little innocent creatures with a wariness truly 
 laughable. We placed the loop before one of 
 them. Slowly he moved himself along and at length, 
 as we watched him with intensest gaze, he put his 
 head within. We pulled stoutly. The poor thing 
 breathed but a moment and all was over. In this 
 manner we triumphantly secured both the formida- 
 ble beasts. It was a bold and perilous adventure. 
 The world will not be witness to the like again.-— 
 But adieu to Mountains, Falls, andAlligators. 
 
 The next morning we descended and took the 
 boat for Albany. Athens and Hudson are the only 
 places of any interest along the banks of the river 
 
142 ATHENS — HUDSON — ALBANY. 
 
 between W*. P*. and Albany. Athens is a small 
 *own, but attracts the eye by several beautiful coun- 
 try seats. Hudson is a city, and contained in 1830 
 more than five thousand inhabitants. It is very fa- 
 vorably situated for manufactories and has many 
 erected on the creeks in the vicinity. Kinderhook, 
 the birth-place or residence of the President of the 
 U. S., is a few miles above Hudson. 
 
 At Albany. — When the boat came along-side the 
 wharf we nearly lost ourselves, as well as bag and 
 baggage, amidst the crowd of porters, coachmen, 
 bystanders, and passengers. However we succeed- 
 ed at length in reaching the Mansion House where 
 we were well served and well pleased. Albany 
 is a city, not much ' liked of * as the country peo- 
 ple say,by strangers,not withstanding it w T on amazing- 
 ly upon our good graces, and in a short time. We 
 were so fortunate as to meet with many pleasant 
 people — not travelling gentry, but inhabitants of the 
 place — some of honest Dutch lineage. Then the 
 State House, the City Hall, the noble Seminary, 
 the Basin, the multitude of large and comfort- 
 able Hotels, the Museum, the Mineral Spring, 
 the old Dutch structure, with its bull-dog knocker, 
 where La Fayette was quartered in the revolution 
 the bustle of business and of pleasure — these 
 contributed to awaken feelings of interest. Then 
 too it was delightful weather. The sun shone bright, 
 but not sultry, and all went merry as a marriage bell. 
 
 On the road to Troy (which is perhaps the best 
 
SARATOGA SPRINGS. 143 
 
 in the States) we were pleased with the appearance 
 of Gen. Van Rensselaer's mansion and the United 
 States' Arsenal. 
 
 Troy. — A fine city. Few have the preference 
 according to my taste. I wish I had room to say 
 more. 
 
 Saratoga Springs. — At the United States Hotel. 
 Crowded. No less than two hundred names on the 
 books. All calling themselves fashionable, or anx- 
 ious to be so called. Of the sick I say nothing, 
 for I have no recollection of seeing any. The 
 country in the vicinity is poor and dreary. Though 
 it is well enough to visit Saratoga for once, to taste 
 the waters of the Springs and see the various sorts 
 of people in this world, it is in itself a dull place, 
 and one must be on the wing, soon or that imp of the 
 evil spirit — ennui —will have hold of him. High 
 Rock Spring is a great curiosity. Congress-water 
 is bottled at the rate of twenty-five gross a week and 
 sent to all parts of the Union and into foreign coun- 
 tries. At the time I was in S*. it was sold at §1,75 
 by the dozen. 
 
 We returned over the Mountains home ; and a 
 more fatiguing jaunt I have never taken. Some of 
 the towns we passed through were Schuylersville, 
 Arcansaw, Cambridge, Salem, Arlington, Sunder- 
 land, Manchester, Winhall, Peru, Londonderry, 
 Weston, Andover, Chester, Bellows' Falls, &c. — 
 It seems from the names of the towns as if Massa- 
 chusetts had been transplanted to Vermont. 
 
144 
 
 WESTWARD. 
 
 Meadville. An adventure in the wilderness. A log 
 cabin. An honest Dutchman. Bats in the at- 
 tic. My sleeping room. Novel breakfast. A 
 stage load. Distinguished honor. Dutch wis- 
 dom, curiosity, and perseverance. An awkward 
 sow. The Moral of the Tale. Pittsburg. Al- 
 legany Mountains. Tornads. Bedford Springs, 
 ffiedericktoicn. 
 
 On a second trip up the Hudson, in company 
 with a friend, I left Alhany for the Falls of Ni- 
 agara? It would be useless for me to say any- 
 thing of Schenectady, Utica, Trenton-Falls, the 
 Montezuma Marshes, Geneva, Canandaigua, Roch- 
 ester, still more of the great, wonder of the world, 
 for the reason I have given heretofore, that they 
 have been described many times and infin tely better 
 than is in my power. It is sufficient to say that no 
 one who can muster the wherewithal to vi^it them, 
 should stay at home. From theFalls we went to Buf- 
 falo and there took steamboat on Lake Erie for the 
 town of Erie. Thence we proceeded to Meadville 
 — where we passed the Sabbath. Here we found 
 an old acquaintance and friend a member of the 
 same profession with ourselves — one who had been 
 an associate in Theological studies — wasted td a 
 skeleton by the fever of the country and laid upon 
 the bed of his last sickness. It was but a few weeks 
 
AN ADVENTURE IN THE WILDERNESS. 145 
 
 before that we had seen him in Cambridge in good 
 health. At the first glance I perceived the seal of 
 death upon his countenance, and not long after we 
 bade him a final and heart-rending adieu, we received 
 the tidings of his departure, I trust, to a better and 
 happier world.* On our way from Meadville to 
 Pittsburg is laid the scene of an occurrence which 
 I shall relate if it is in my power. We left Mercer 
 (I think it was) in the stage for P* early in the 
 evening after we had taken supper. It was cloudy 
 and dark, and the roads were in a desperately bad 
 state. At first we hesitated about starting, and for 
 myself I regretted afterwards that we did. The 
 driver told us he should have his lanterns light- 
 ed and assured us we should go on safely. We 
 found the roads, if anything, worse than we expect- 
 ed. The blackest pall of night gradually descended 
 upon us, and what was not the least evil of all, 
 the lights for some reason or other went out. The 
 peril was such that the horses could not proceed 
 faster than a walk. The driver stopped once or 
 twice to light up, but did not succeed. There was 
 no probability of our getting ahead more than twen- 
 ty miles if we travelled all night. As to sleep, or 
 anything different from a state of perpetual anxiety, 
 it was out of the question, at least, as regarded my- 
 self. My companion was one not subject to agita- 
 
 * My companion , sad to tell,has since followed him. He died 
 within a short time, in the West Indies, whither he had gone 
 
 seeking health. 
 
 10 
 o 
 
146 AN HONEST DUTCHMAN. 
 
 tion or alarm, and could sleep soundly, if need were, 
 on the top-gallant yards of a main-mast. He was 
 for going on — I was ' clean the contrary.' How- 
 ever we agreed to disagree. He was to have his 
 way, I mine ; but we engaged to meet again at 
 Pittsburg. The driver was requested to leave me 
 on the way, wherever there was a chance of my be- 
 ing taken care of for the night. After poking through 
 the dark for a few miles and pitching into numberless 
 mud-holes, he came to a halt and informed me that 
 we had reached a place for the wayfarer. ' What 
 sort of a place ?' I asked. ' A log cabin.' ' Who 
 lives in it ? an honest man ?' ' Yes, a right honest 
 Dutchman.' 'Well, you must rouse him and let 
 him know what's coming.' It was late and the 
 Dutchman— wife, children and all— was a-bed. The 
 door was, as usual, unfastened. The driver enter- 
 ed without knocking and notified my host. He was 
 up in a trice and was looking about for his panta- 
 loons. 'No matter for them,' exclaimed my pion- 
 eer who was in somewhat of a hurry. Luckily they 
 were found, and soon issued forth the dapper man in 
 his pants of grey. He greeted me with such an open, 
 downright manner that I felt all confidence in him 
 at once, though in the depths of the forest and 
 miles from any other human dwelling. I expressed 
 some anxiety that my baggage should be out of 
 harm's way. He said he would take it into his 
 own sleeping-room and there it would be safe. I 
 told him I was tired and wished to go to bed im» 
 
BATS IN THE ATTIC. 147 
 
 mediately. He took a bit of candle to light me. 
 And where do you think he lighted me ? Up the 
 rounds of a tottlish ladder into the loft of his cabin. 
 As he was leading the w T ay to my resting place, a 
 large bat flew by within a few inches of my face. 
 4 What!' I exclaimed, * do you have bats here ?' 
 4 Yes,' said he, c a plenty. But we never mind 
 them.' 'Don't mind them ? Well, if you don't mind 
 them, there is no reason why /should.' There was 
 just light enough from his candle to perceive 
 that there was no window and that there was 
 another bed close to mine with somebody in it. 
 Said I, ' You have got some personage here within 
 arm's length of me. I should like to know who 
 it is, as I am not in the habit of sleeping where there 
 are strangers.' ' 0,' said he, ' that's one of my 
 sons. You need have no fears of him. I'll bail ye 
 for him —he is an honest fellow.' £ But you have 
 no windows here — I never shall know when to get 
 up.' c We can rouse ye,' he replied. In a short 
 time my host left me and I found my way after some 
 effort between the sheets which felt about as soft as 
 crash-towel. Notwithstanding this inconvenience I 
 slept soundly. When I awoke the next morning, 
 my room-mate had disappeared. It was late, as I ex- 
 pected it would be. I might have slept all day, had 
 it not been for wide cracks between boards nailed 
 over an opening at the head of my bed. I bestirred 
 myself, and when apparelled thought it would be well 
 to take a view of the premises before leaving them. 
 
148 A WAY TO GET ALONG. 
 
 The loft seemed to be the place of deposit for all 
 valuables — the Dutchman's bank. Here was a 
 pile of one sort of grain — there of another. Here 
 was wool carded and uncarded — there was an old 
 spinning wheel, &c. There was variety enough to 
 remind one of a ' Fair.' As soon as i had dropped 
 myself down all eyes were fixed upon me. My host 
 and wife, with their bevy of bare-looted chil - 
 dren, girls and boys, stared at me with the most 
 insatiate curiosity. To meet their gaze required 
 more of a face of brass than I happened to be blessed 
 with. The plague of it was — a young man in 
 black, with spectacles on nose, and all. My first 
 object was to to ascertain if there was a prospect of 
 my getting a conveyance towards P*. I inquired 
 of my landlord. He did not know of any. * Can't I 
 get a horse and wagon somewhere about?' ' I have 
 no neighbors,' said he ; c there is no house within 
 six miles.' ( Perhaps you can help me on a piece.' 
 • I don't see how I can. It is a very busy time 
 with me. My horse I use every day on my land.' 
 ' But I must go on in some way. As for stopping 
 here all day and taking the stage at night, I cannot 
 think of it. As like as not I should be in no better 
 predicament than I was last night. You must carry 
 me on if you possibly can. You shall be no loser.' 
 He thought awhile. At length he said, ' I am wil- 
 ling to take you on to a certain village — twenty -four 
 miles distant — for so much.' c Very well,' said I, 
 ' harness up and let us be off, for I am in haste < 
 
NOVEL BREAKFAST, 149 
 
 But before I start I must have something to eat.' 
 'Yes,' said he, c I suppose you will want baiting.' 
 My meal was soon on the table. It was a perfect 
 unique. Read with care, ye who fare sumptuous- 
 ly ! A decoction of something, I know not what, 
 called tea ; sour bread; no butter ; but instead there - 
 of a big pickle, full as big as one's wrist. My land- 
 lady, not so comely, took a seat beside me with a 
 leafy twig to keep off the flies. She was one that 
 in the days of witchcraft would have been seized and 
 hung. My appetite was keen and my only alterna- 
 tive was to eat what was before me, or go without. 
 So I made up my mind to it and did the best I could. 
 I should have had no lasting association but of an 
 amusing character with this breakfast in the wilder- 
 ness, had it not been for the discord that soon sprung 
 up between my stomach and the strange medley 
 there deposited. — All ready for a start. Horse and 
 wagon, or, as they were called, donkey and dear- 
 born at the door. —My landlord, dressed in his 
 best grey suit and broad-brimmed white hat, and 
 equipped with a shining whip.?stick and leather 
 thong. On inquiring I found that the harness and 
 wagon-body, which were unpainted, were made 
 by himself and sons. The Dutchman said his wife 
 wished to take passage with us some ten miles to vis- 
 it her relations. 'Why, 'said I, 'my baggage fills one 
 half of the wagon and there is but one seat. Where 
 will you put her ?' ' 0, I'll fix it right,' he replied. 
 * I have a board to put in front ; that I'll set on my-* 
 
 J 3* 
 
150 DUTCH WISDOM, 
 
 self, and you shall have a seat with my wife.' That 
 's a good one, methought. Such a beauty and no 
 jealousy ! My thanks, good man, for such a dis- 
 tinguished favor. Of course I was all attention to 
 my lady, handed her to her seat with great care, and 
 then placed myself beside her. Our coachman was 
 on his box in a few moments and off we drove. 
 My host was much pleased with his new situation, 
 talked much, and with no little jovialty. He seemed 
 to know every body on the road. All had a word 
 for him and he a word for them. ' My name,' said 
 he 'is Sager. Every body knows me I have kept 
 a house of entertainment so long, and they call me 
 everywhere, 'old Sager.' I am known to be hon- 
 est and dacent.' We stopped after a few miles 
 ride, to water our donkey. ' Well, Sager, you 
 have turned stage-driver, have n't ye ?' shouted some 
 one of his old acquaintance. ' Yes,' says the old 
 man, ' I carries passengers when I can get the right 
 sort.' — We are on the move again. Very curious 
 and sagacious were his remarks upon religion, med- 
 icine, and law. I have ever regretted that I did not 
 put them down word for word. They are a great 
 loss to the world! Here are a few scraps: c It 
 wont do for all to be rich, or all to be poor. The 
 rich will not ask for favors — the poor cannot con- 
 fer them.' Speaking of his horse, ' There is no 
 scrupling his goodness.' Of a certain family 'They 
 are dreadful kindly — terrible kindly people.' 'He 
 liked to have friends come and make him icisits, but 
 
CURIOSITY AND PERSEVERANCE. 151 
 
 not to drink.' — 'He had lived with his wife tvventy- 
 aine years and there had not been twenty hard words 
 between them.' — 'No notion of ministers' families 
 not working as well as others.' 'There is one ques- 
 tion,' said he, ' that I want to ask you, if you won't 
 be put out.' ' You are at liberty,' said I, ' if it is a 
 proper question.' ' I want to know which profes- 
 sion you belong to ?' ' Which do you suppose?' 
 ' A doctor ?' ' No, I guess not.' 'Lawyer, then?' 
 ' No, I can't make my mind up to that.' 'I must 
 be a minister then ?' ' Yes, I rather think so. 
 You are as good as a Yankee at a guess, my friend. 
 You have hit the nail on the head.' He said he 
 made it a point of conscience to pay five dollars to 
 the minister yearly ; that he sent his children to 
 school as much as he possibly could, and made them 
 learn both Dutch and English. Various Dutch 
 pamphlets I remember hung around the walls of his 
 cabin. He told me he was raised near Philadelphia, 
 and came into this part of the country poor and with 
 a large family of children ; that he planted himself 
 in the forest not far from where he now lived, 
 built him a log hut with but one apartment for his 
 whole family and lived upon dry bread many a day; 
 after a while he removed to a new house and open- 
 ed it for one of entertainment, and had got along so 
 well in the world that he thought of retiring from 
 business, or giving it up to his son and building him- 
 self another house on the opposite side of the road. 
 Much success to you, my honest Dutchman, though 
 I indulge a smile. 
 
152 AN AWKWARD SOW. 
 
 After we had proceeded ten miles his wife, to 
 my no small relief and joy, resigned her place and 
 struck across the fields to find her relations. The 
 forward seat was now removed, and the old man and 
 myself became nearer friends. Going down hill 
 his horse, who was rather a careless traveller, occa^ 
 sionally stumbled. < My friend,' said I, c you must 
 pull up your horse on these sharp pitches, or he 
 will be down on all fours before you think of it, 
 snapping your thills and harnesss.' 'He must 
 look out for himself,' said the old man, ' I have as 
 much as I can do to take care of myself.' About 
 fifteen minutes after, as we were descending a hill, 
 headlong plunged the donkey, coming down on 
 the shaft with his whole weight. I was out in a 
 moment. As soon as the old gentleman got safely 
 out — the process of which consumed no little time 
 — he trotted up to his beast, gave him a ringing 
 slap on the cheek and addressed him thus : ' You 
 awkward sow, you ! What possessed ye to fall 
 down ?' We unharnessed the poor thing as quick 
 as possible — got him up, and to our astonishment 
 found he had broken neither harness nor thills. ■ — 
 We put all things to rights in a short time, and, 
 as experience teaches caution, the old man kept 
 him up on his feet through the rest of the journey. 
 
 Nothing especially worthy of note happened af- 
 terwards. Towards the latter part of the afternoon 
 I reached my destination. c Old Sager ' thought 
 he must return part of the way before night-fall ? sp 
 
PITTSBURG. 153 
 
 I paid him and we parted like old friends — never 
 probably to see each other again. However the 
 old man may rest assured that his good humour — 
 downright sincerity and curious sagacity will ever be 
 a delightful remembrance — an oases in the desert 
 of life. From this incident I derived more pleas- 
 ure and real profit than from any that occurred in the 
 whole journey. Ye proud, here learn a lesson of 
 humility, — A log-house in a wilderness is not to 
 be despised. 
 
 On my way to Pittsburg one of the wheel-horses 
 of the stage fell on the brow of a hill and was drag- 
 ged some distance down the gravelly descent gor- 
 ing his side badly. Poor lellow ! It could not 
 be prevented. It was one of the inevitable evils 
 of this sublunary sphere. 
 
 In Pittsburg — at the Eagle Hotel. Glad to meet 
 again my travelling companion. The wooded and 
 precipitous hills near P*, the road winding along 
 the banks ot the transparent Alleghany, and the si- 
 lent confluence of the latter with the Monongahela, 
 the multitude of Western and other steamboats ly- 
 ing side by side in goodly array, the enormous wag- 
 ons drawn by four or six gigantic horses, the coal- 
 pits in the sides of the adjacent hills, and the Ba- 
 bel tongues of every tribe and nation impart to this 
 city a somewhat peculiar character and interest. 
 It is however on the whole a dismal place — a black 
 spot. The cholera had been raging and but a few 
 davs before several had died of this disease in the 
 
154 ALLEGHANY MOUNTAINS. 
 
 very house where we took lodgings. We were 
 anxious on this account to leave the city as soon 
 as possible, and the next morning long ere 
 day, took the stage for Bedford Springs situated 
 near the southern line of Pennsylvania. We cross- 
 ed the highest summit of the Alleghany Mountains 
 at midnight — a thousand stars twinkling brightly o- 
 ver us. The ascent and descent were severally 
 five miles. As soon as we turned the summit, we 
 were whirled at a rapid rate along the brink of pre- 
 cipices hundreds of feet in perpendicular height. 
 It was too perilous and dizzying to look out. Our 
 horses and driver were well trained and we met with 
 no accident. The next morning ere we had left the 
 mountains ' a storm-blast came raging through the 
 air.' Such an one can only be witnessed in such a 
 place. The wind was a genuine tornado. It seem- 
 ed as though it would take the carriage off the 
 wheels. The earth was caught up from the roads 
 in clouds, and tall sturdy forest trees bent like sap- 
 lings. The rain came down like a river emptied 
 upon us. The lightning filled the heavens with a 
 perfect blaze and the thunder reverberated among 
 the hills with terrific peals. The coachman thought 
 it best to come to a stand as soon as possible, and 
 we found refuge in a traveller's home of this solita- 
 ry region until the storm had passed by. 
 
 Bedford Springs — a great place of resort. There 
 are not so many hotels, nor are they so spacious as 
 
BEDFORD SPRINGS. 155 
 
 at Saratoga, but the scenery is wild and romantic, 
 which cannot be said in any sense of the latter place. 
 From the Springs the first place of any note that 
 we reached was Hagerstown. Then came Fred- 
 eric or Frederick-town. Here we spent a part of 
 the Sabbath. It was a sunny day and the blacks in 
 their best attire thronged the streets on their way to 
 church. One waited upon me at the hotel and an 
 elegant fellow he was of some twenty-four years of 
 age and as much of a gentleman as I ever met with. 
 I conceived quite a penchant for him and could not 
 but slip a piece of silver into his hand, though told 
 it was prohibited by law. At this place we took 
 the rail-cars, drawn by horses to Baltimore — dis- 
 tant sixty miles — where we arrived safely in about 
 seven hours. From B*. we steam-boated and rail- 
 cared to Boston. This route has been made famil- 
 iar. So farewell to thee, reader, until I take a start 
 in some new direction, when I hope for thy com- 
 pany again. 
 
156 
 
 NEWPORT. 
 
 C** # , August, 18 — . 
 Dear Friend, 
 
 I have been at Newport and spent a little 
 time. It is a lovely place in Summer. There are 
 two very fine beaches — some think — the finest in 
 New England. They are near each other and 
 are beautifully curved, like the arcs of a circle. A 
 rock, designated as the Spouting Rock, is one of 
 some curiosity. The tide-water rushes underneath 
 some distance and through a hole upwards at 
 times spouts to the height of thirty or forty feet. It 
 is a magnificent sight after a storm. While on the 
 Island I made a journey to Paradise and Purgato- 
 ry, and was highly pleased with them, the latte 1 ' 
 as well as the former. Paradise is a spot exceed- 
 ingly romantic — about a mile from one of the shores. 
 A ridge of rock of considerable height extends a 
 half a mile and on one side there is a foot or car- 
 riage path running between ranges of trees and com- 
 pletely embowered. I counted two hundred and 
 fifty-two in a line. — Purgatory is a most singular 
 and unaccountable chasm formed in a mountainous 
 rock upon the sea-shore, from eight to ten feet 
 broad, one hundred feet deep, and more than an 
 hundred feet long. It looks as if cut by a sharp and 
 powerful instrument wielded by giants. Into this 
 cavity the sea pours with a voice of thunder. In 
 
NEWPORT. 151 
 
 such a purgatory one might be washed thorough- 
 ly of the pollution of the flesh in a very short time. 
 Fort Adams, where Government has expended a 
 million and a half of dollars, upon a fortification, is 
 well worth a visit. The Jewish Synagogue and 
 Cemetery attract attention ; also a curious relic 
 of antiquity, whose mystery is yet unsolved — a 
 circular structure of stone mason-work built j upon 
 several lofty arches. The height thereof may be 
 twenty-five feet. Newport is a place of some ten 
 thousand inhabitants, and has as many or more chur- 
 ches. Dr. Channing has a seat in the central part 
 of the Island. The Dr. most unfortunately was not 
 at home when I called. I however took the liber- 
 ty of viewing his place. It is a delightful retreat in 
 summer from the heat and dust of the city. The 
 mansion has an air of antiquity. The garden though 
 not extensive, has its attractions, and the fields adja- 
 cent are covered with fruit-trees. While on the 
 spot a young deer, as tame as a cosset, came run- 
 ning towards me and played various antics for my 
 amusement. A large and handsome dog of a kind- 
 ly disposition seemed to have the guardianship of 
 the premises. I could say more, but I have said 
 enough to give you an idea of N # . 
 
 Yours irulv. 
 14 
 
158 
 
 POVERTY NOT MISERY, 
 
 A mile out of the town of N crossing from 
 
 the old to the new Concord road. The walk was 
 rural, being mostly through woods, but unrelieved 
 by any human habitation. At a distance in advance 
 of me I saw two most haggish-looking creatures. 
 Supposing they might be Irish stragglers J did not 
 care to trust myself with them. A few steps ahead 
 I discovered a boy sitting by the way-side with 
 a basket of greens and asked him if those people 
 were town's people, or not. He said they were 
 and lived in the vicinity. So walked on with re- 
 newed courage Upon coming up with them and 
 perceiving they had baskets and some dandelions 
 therein, I accosted them — ' Do you find dandeli- 
 ons plenty ?' They replied, 'No — not so many 
 as we expected.' ' Do you gather them to sell?' 
 One of them said, ' I sometimes sell — sometimes 
 not.' The other, c I never pick but for myself.' 
 Nodding to them I passed on to the summit of the hill 
 before me and there caught sight not far from the road- 
 side of the only tree in blossom, which was extreme- 
 ly beautiful. I stopped until they reached me to make 
 inquiry. c It is the wild plum-tree.' Before I pro- 
 ceed farther, let me say that my informers were fe- 
 males, from forty to sixty years of age, ragged, soil- 
 ed, and frightfully ugly. — l How far to the Concord 
 turnpike?' c About a half mile or so. ' c Have you 
 
POVERTY NOT MISERY. 159 
 
 never been here before ?' said one. 'Never.' 'Per- 
 haps you'll get lost.' ' No,' says the other, e there 
 is no danger — our house is just at the foot of the 
 hill.' Pointing ahead, 'there,' said she, 'is our 
 hovel.' ' How do you contrive to live here P'said 
 I. ' 0, in our way. We get an honest living — 
 we work for it, and nothing can be more honest 
 than this. We don't call ourselves poor.' ' Who in 
 the world are poor,' methought, 'if you are not?' 
 'This gentleman don't look, 'said the other,'as though 
 he worked much for his living.'' The house was a one 
 story building containing two or three rooms, and 
 was occupied by two or three families. I remark* 
 ed, ' I suppose you live pretty comfortable here 
 
 — do a little yourself — get enough to eat and drink 
 
 — have wood enough to burn and clothes enough 
 to keep warm during the cold winter nights.' 'Yes, 
 I putter round, gather a few sticks for firing and 
 so on, and, thank God, I have got a husband that 
 can work for his living, and if he can't do any- 
 thing else, can work on a little patch of ground we 
 have. I have plenty to eat and drink. I have wood 
 enough and can keep warm the coldest night in 
 winter if I only have him with me. ' She was proceed- 
 ing in a curious strain. Not knowing what might be 
 said, I felt not a little uneasy, and, as quick as it was 
 in my power gave a different turn to the conversation. 
 The dame who proved herself of such amorous mate- 
 rial, was a salt-rheum-eyed wench, of some fifty years 
 old, stockingless, and with all the marks of extreme 
 
160 ASCENT OF THE MONABNOCK. 
 
 destitution upon her. They little suspected who I 
 was, and after I left them, I could not restrain a 
 hearty laugh at their singular chitty-chattiness. 
 
 ASCENT OF THE MONADNOCK 
 
 To err is human. i Hope deferred ,' etc. Misjor* 
 tunes never come single. Genuine benevolence. 
 
 This Mountain is one of the White Mountain 
 ridge and rises to the height of 3254 feet. Having 
 passed the Sabbath in Dublin, N. H. with a cleri- 
 cal gentleman of my acquaintance, who was kind 
 enough to invite me to accompany him to this place 
 on an exchange, we set off on Monday morning to 
 return to Fitchburg. The road led us along the 
 base of the Monadnock. As we gazed at it with 
 eager eyes, the ascent appeared gradual and the sum- 
 mit not far distant. We began to talk seri- 
 ously of attempting the ascent, and at length conclu- 
 ded so to do. We left our horse and chaise at the 
 nearest farm-house, and as we could not obtain a 
 guide, thought there would be no difficulty in guid- 
 ing our selves. So off we started. We were not 
 so fortunate as to find a path, and were obliged to 
 make one as we proceeded. This was no easy 
 matter as there was much brush- wood to work thro*. 
 After something of a strain we reached the top of 
 
'HOPE deferred,' etc. 161 
 
 the first peak. As we looked upward we saw an- 
 other peak at the distance of a mile. So down we 
 go nearly a half a mile over rocks and fallen trees 
 and up we toil to the height of the second: 
 peak. To our surprize and disappointment there 
 is a still higher peak beyond. Surely this, we 
 thought, must be the summit of the mountain. So 
 down we go again and up we toil again. Quite ex- 
 hausted we reach the height of the third peak. We, 
 look beyond and upward, and lot another still high- 
 er and more difficult of access. We were not dis- 
 posed to give out, though we had little strength left. 
 Like human beings we aspired to reach the utmost 
 elevation. So having reposed awhile we "perform, 
 another go-down and go-up, but not without incred- 
 ible iatigue. We look again and the summit is far 
 off still. We seem to make no approach to it. It 
 appears more distant than when we first began the 
 ascent. Exhausted and heart-sickened we are ready 
 to give over the pursuit. But it is dreadful hard, 
 when one has toiled so much, to fail of the object 
 sought. So we think we will make one more ef- 
 fort, trusting to a kind providence that it will be all 
 required of us. We reach the elevation of this 
 peak and look around. It is the loftiest of all. Our 
 exploit is- achieved — our solicitude at an end. 
 Our toil rewarded. We remained some time on the 
 summit to derive all the pleasure we could from the 
 wide and varied prospect, and to gather strength 
 sufficient to make the descent. Having nothing to, 
 
 13* 
 
162 MiSFORf UNES NEVER SINGLE. 
 
 eat or drink with us, and of course were about half 
 famished. At length we left the many peaks, over 
 which we had traversed, ' alone in their glory,' and 
 sought the base of the one on which we stood. How 
 sadly unfortunate! Instead of finding anything like a 
 path as we expected, we were obliged to penetrate 
 through a forest all but impenetrable, and which hu- 
 man foot had never penetrated before, to slide down 
 fearful declivities of bare rocks, and sometimes, with 
 nought to hold by but twigs and shrubs, to drop 
 ourselves from perpendicular precipices, not know- 
 ing what foot-hold we should find below. We were 
 in a melancholy plight before we had made half the 
 descent. Our shoes, a few hours before all shining 
 bright, worn to the color of the grey rocks — our 
 suits of black none the more comely for their rough 
 treatment from bushes and briars — our strength 
 all gone — our hearts faint— and countenances as pal- 
 lid as if the grave was about to claim us. We fear- 
 ed we should die upon the mountain and become 
 the food of the vultures, our bones whiten in the 
 depth ol the forest, and what hrd become of us 
 ever be a mystery. However such proved not to 
 be our fate. We lived to get into the lowlands and 
 made out to stagger to the nearest farm-house. We 
 told the farmer's wife, in the fewest words, the 
 plight we were in and begged of her to accommo- 
 date us with a bed to lie down and rest our- 
 selves. We obtained what we wished and soon fell 
 asleep — losing all recollection of the past. It was 
 
GENUINE BENEVOLENCE. 103 
 
 several hours and towards the close of the day be- 
 fore we again made our appearance. In the mean- 
 time our kind hostess had provided for us an excel- 
 lent supper, and had sent one of her sons after our 
 horse and chaise, which was no less than two or 
 three miles off. We ate heartily and would have 
 repaid her well for all she had done for us, but she 
 refused to take the smallest compensation. Bles- 
 sings on thee, good woman ! Thou hast cast thy 
 bread upon the waters. May it return to thee again! 
 We set off considerably refreshed, and that night we 
 rode to Fitchburg — a distance of thirty miles. 
 
U4 
 
 CURIOUS EPITAPH 
 
 TO REGALE THE READER. 
 
 Free from the stormy gusts of human life, 
 Free from the squalls of passion and of strife, 
 
 Her lies R C anchored — who stood the sea 
 
 Of ebbing life and flowing misery, 
 He luff'd and bore away to please mankind, 
 Yet duty urged him still to head the wind. 
 Though dandy-rigged, his prudent eye foresaw, 
 He took a reef at fortunes quickest flaw, 
 Rheumatic gusts at length his mast destroyed, 
 But jury-health awhile he still enjoyed. 
 Worn out with age and shattered head, 
 At last he struck and grounded on his bed — 
 There in distress careening thus he lay, 
 His final bilge expecting every day — 
 Heaven took his ballast from his dreary hold, 
 And left his body wrecked — destitute of soul. 
 
 R C alluded to in the epitaph kept a 
 
 wind-mill at Nantucket. His brother — President 
 of a bank there — wrote and placed it upon his 
 tomb-stone. The family had it removed awhile 
 since, as it was a subject of merriment among the 
 visiters of the burying ground* 
 
1G5 
 MONADNOCK ONCE MORE. 
 
 Simplicity and cupidity. A little scandal. 
 
 Left Fitzvvilliam at about 9 o'clock, A. M. and 
 returned at 4 1-2 P. M. Rode eight miles — ascen- 
 ded in 1 3-4 hours — descended in 1 1-2 hours. 
 The ascent two miles — generally quite easy — from 
 Marlboro'. Counted thirty ponds — could distinct- 
 ly see Keene, Troy, Fitzvvilliam, Jaffrey, Dublin and 
 the monument on Wachusett. Forests, hills, pas- 
 tures, waters, and villages lay out-spread with their 
 various beauties before the eye — a clear rich sun- 
 light thrown over all. Here and there lands, en- 
 closed and cultivated, attracted the attention. The 
 roofs of the farm-houses that spotted the landscape 
 glistened as if newly shingled. It was a rare day 
 and all nature wore a smiling face. Old Monadnock, 
 clad in an impenetrable panoply of solid rock, lifts 
 his head proudly towards the heavens. The decay- 
 ing trunks of a mighty forest rest upon his bosom 
 in mingled confusion, and excite the astonishment 
 of the beholder. 
 
 ' How divine 
 
 The liberty for frail, for mortal man, 
 To roam at large among unpeopled glens 
 And mountainous retirements, only trod 
 By devious footsteps : regions consecrate 
 To oldest time ! 
 
 Near the summit we discovered money secreted 
 
16G A LITTLE SCANDAL, 
 
 among the rocks and took the c responsibility of re- 
 moving the deposits.' I was much amused with 
 the simplicity and honest heartedness of the fellow- 
 travellers into whose company I was thrown by ac- 
 cident. They were a tailor, a chair-maker, and a 
 country store-keeper. The first asked me on the 
 summit of the mountain if rattle-snakes stung or bit. 
 The second was inordinately eager for the tinkling 
 brass discovered under the rocks, and scratched up 
 the mud like a dog after a wood-chuck. He over- 
 turned nearly every loose rock from the summit to 
 the base. The last told me pleasant stories about the 
 clergymen of a neighboring village, such as that the 
 Orthodox minister was c the greatest black-guard in 
 the place,' — and 'nobody could hold a row with 
 him,' — that e he was clear as a whistle,' &c. — That 
 the Unitarian minister c owned the best horse in 
 town, but kept him the poorest.' c When he feeds 
 his horse,' said he, ( he will give him half a hun- 
 dred of hay and not feed him again for a week,' 
 — c and such a driver there is not in the village.' 
 
 We all returned to the public house at the foot of 
 the hill, and drank lemonade together out of the same 
 glass, (an enormous one by the by) and then set 
 off for town in our several vehicles — having had a 
 most pleasant excursion. 
 
167 
 PASSAGE OF THE SACO. 
 
 On my way to the Notch of the White Hills. — 
 There had been in the vicinity heavy rains. The 
 Saco had overflowed its banks and carried away the 
 bridge, I think, not far from Conway. The only al- 
 ternative was to cross the swollen river where there 
 was the least danger. Our party set off in two ve- 
 hicles. Some in a double-horse wagon with a dri- 
 ver — One gentleman and myself in a single-horse 
 wagon. As my companion was older than myself 
 and we had taken no experienced driver, he took 
 upon him the chief management. We followed in 
 the track of the others. Where we attempted to 
 cross there was a sharp pitch from the bank to the 
 shore. Here our horse — a high-spirited animal — 
 began to curvet and conduct suspiciously. How- 
 ever it was no time to indulge fears. We persua- 
 ded him into the water and urged him on as far as 
 the channel of the stream. There the current was 
 rapid and deep — the wagon seeming to rest upon 
 the surface of the waters as it without wheels. Our 
 high-mettled steed, either terrified by the new situa- 
 tion in which he found himself, or glad of a good 
 chance for sport, and perhaps determined to get us 
 into a bad box, stopped progress and began to leap 
 and plunge. Said I to my friend, 'Give him a loose 
 rein and I'll give him a blow. He will carry us be- 
 yond danger at a few springs.' Our experiment did 
 not succeed. He grew more antic and unmanage- 
 
168 PASSAGE OF THE SACO. 
 
 able. My friend, thinking there was no hope, or 
 rather in a paroxysm of uncontrollable fright, threw 
 the reins into the stream, then leaped in himself. 
 Falling somewhat horizontally he altogether disap- 
 peared under the water. However he soon came 
 to the surface and struggled for the shore. It was 
 a struggle — for the water was as high as his breast 
 and swept along so furiously that he could hardly 
 keep his footing. He at length reached terra fir- 
 ma and stood there pale, drenched, and dripping — 
 a laughable sight even to myself, though in peril. 
 Perhaps, reader, you would like to know the mode 
 of my rescue. As you may well suppose, I was in 
 no very enviable situation — in the middle of a rush- 
 ing torrent with an ungovernable horse and without 
 reins. What to do I did not know. How it would 
 end was a question. The first step to be taken for 
 security was over the seat into the back part of the 
 wagon. This was necessary in order to escape the 
 wagon in case it should be upset. Luckily it was 
 not — for after a few more curvets and plunges the 
 horse fell and sunk, leaving nothing of himself to be 
 seen but his nostrils and the lower part of his head. 
 I felt comparatively at ease, though still uncertain 
 of the result. It was not long before our friends 
 who were in advance looked back to reconnoitre 
 us. They were not a little astonished to see the 
 predicament we were in. My friend, apparently 
 escaped from a watery grave — and myself in the 
 midst of the raging waters standing upright in our 
 
PASSAGE OP THE SACO. 160 
 
 vehicle with no horse. They were back shortly. 
 How to give me assistance in my perilous situation, 
 they were in no small doubt. The driver saw no 
 other way but to brave the stream, seize the horse 
 by the bridle and help him to rights. The thought 
 was the deed. The horse after a few lfemih ef- 
 forts stood upon his feet, and with skilful urging and 
 guidance drew me safe to land. 
 
 PLEASANT MODE OF JOURNEYING. 
 
 Ji sublime scene. A trial. Rutland. 
 
 One of the most agreeable journies I ever took 
 was with a horse and chaise, in company with a 
 class-mate, through the State of New Hampshire. 
 We filled our chaise-box with volumes of travel and 
 romance — and, though last not least, a singing- 
 book. Our horse was an able-bodied animal, saga- 
 cious, and altogether gentle, and had had much ex- 
 perience in travelling — for he had seen many days. 
 He was named 'Honesty.' I never think of him 
 but with a sentiment of gratitude, not to say a slight 
 touch of affection. You were safe with, or without 
 reins. If we were passing through an uninteresting 
 portion of country — whenever conversation flag- 
 ged, which was not often - one of us took a volume 
 
 15 
 
170 A SUBLIME SCENE. 
 
 and read to the other, or we tied the reins to the 
 safes and each took a volume read to himself. — 
 — When the spiritprompted, if our way was 
 through an uninhabited region, we broke the surrou,-, 
 ding silence and regaled ourselves with an air of 
 solemn music in harmony with the scene. Some of 
 the points of our route were Concord, the Capital 
 of the State, Newport, Claremont, Charlestown 
 No. 4, and the thriving towns along the banks of the 
 blue Connecticut towards our native State. I shall 
 never forget that time 
 
 c When the heavy night hung dark 
 1 The wood and waters o'er 
 
 and we wound our unknown and perilous way up 
 and down the steep hills of Newport— when the black 
 thunder-clouds were dispersed in masses over all the 
 heavens, and the lightning darted from one to the oth- 
 er with dazzling brilliancy, leaving us in a moment in 
 ten-fold gloom, and the far-distant burnings in the 
 forest, on either side reminded us of those days, not 
 long since gone, when the Indian gathered about his 
 council-fires on these same valleys and hill-sides. 
 We reached the place at last, much to our joy, but 
 were near being obliged to proceed further, as ev- 
 ery room and bed in the public house were taken up 
 by persons from the neighboring towns, who had 
 congregated to attend a revival meeting. We how- 
 ever prevailed on the landlord to put us up a bed in 
 the passage-way leading down the back stairs. It 
 wrs a warm night and we left the window open at the 
 head of our bed. So that what with the noise of the 
 
RUTLAND. 171 
 
 late nightly meeting in the church, which was with- 
 in hearing distance, and domestics, in attendance 
 upon some sick person in an adjoining room, going 
 up and down stairs, we slept but poorly, and 
 were glad to be off again the next morning. Though 
 the weather had changed and the wind blew very cold 
 we saw many females on their w r ay, before the 
 sun had risen to attend the morning prayer meeting. 
 
 On the elevated land of Rutland. - A bleak and 
 dismal spot. The night dark and cold, and winds 
 careering high. In bed turning over the ' Myste- 
 ries of Udolpho.' What wonder that imagination 
 was wrought up and sleep was not easily courted ! 
 
 I might say something of each the places we pass- 
 ed through — not forgetting some incidents that oc- 
 curred — but it is best to reserve space for other 
 matters. Let me recommend such a tour to every 
 one who loves pleasure and would make the most of 
 his travels. 
 
172 
 
 WHITE HILLS. 
 
 White Hills — Mt. Clinton. Tornado. Winni- 
 piseogee Lake. Red Mountain. JS"ot so easy to 
 meetdeath asone thinks for. 
 
 Left Castine in the packet at 7 o'clock in the 
 evening, -arrived in Belfast at 1 1-2 after a rainy 
 and disagreeable passage. Cabin extremely wet 
 and cold part of the time — extremely hot and un- 
 comfortable the remainder. On our arrival when 
 we came from below, the moon shone with unclou- 
 ded majesty. Repaired immediately to the public 
 house, found no one, and could find no one, though 
 the house was open, threw myself on a sofa-bed- 
 stead, without covering, was chilled through and 
 suffered intolerably. Sleep uneasy and unrefresh- 
 ing. Left in stage at 5A.M. for Augusta - sick most 
 of the way. A route of no interest. Arrived in 
 Augusta between one and 2P.M. forgot to pay pas- 
 sage and was pursued by driver half way to Hal- 
 lowel. Not a very pleasant occurrence. Paid for 
 myself and little brother $5 — the usual fare. How 
 exorbitant! Preached in H. on Sunday and left on 
 Monday at 4 o'clock, A. M. Reached Paris that 
 day — distant forty miles — was overset while de* 
 scending the banks of the Androscoggin and a 
 little bruised ; spec tacles buried in the sand. 
 — Regaledby delightful music at Paris. Left at 7 
 o'clock in the morning ior Fryburg, distant thirty 
 five miles, Took horse and chaise at this place 
 
WHITE HILLS. 173 
 
 for White Hills through North Conway and Bart- 
 lett. Visited Mts. Washington and Clinton. The 
 weather unfavorable on Mt. Washington. Obtained 
 a magnificent prospect from Mt. Clinton. It is 
 more than two miles to the summit of Mt. C*. 
 ascended in two hours accompanied by a guide. 
 Mts. Washington, Pleasant, Franklin, Munroe, Jef- 
 ferson, Deception, Kearsarge and Chocorua' Peak, 
 or Peaked Mountain, indeed a £ grand sierra of 
 mountain peaks' rose around us. The Saco and 
 Ammonoosuc have their rise among these ' crystal 
 hills.' The height of Mt. Washington is variously 
 estimated. Dr. Williams says 7,800 feet above 
 the level of the ocean. Dr. Cutter, 10,000 feet. 
 It is said to be visible 30 leagues at sea — wihich 
 would be a distance of 165 miles. Therefore, ac- 
 cording to Dr. Dwight, its height must be 12,000 
 feet. Every body has read, or ought to read his in- 
 teresting sketch of all that is remarkable at the 
 White Hills, so that the patience of the reader will 
 be spared any effort of mine. 
 
 Crawford's house. — The highest inhabited spot 
 in the United States. — 3,000 feet above the level of 
 the sea. He is not much at his ease in his situation 
 of innkeeper. c To be scolded at every day,' said 
 he, < for not having every variety of every thing — 
 Pox on't !I had rather hoe potatoes from sun-rise 
 to sun-set.' Followed up the c silver cascade,' near 
 to its source. Penetrated the wild and awfully sol- 
 itary ravines near the Notch. The sides of the 
 
 15* 
 
i?4 WINNIPISEOGEE LAKE. 
 
 Mountains at the Notch are about twenty-two feet 
 apart. But let others talk of the wonders. 
 
 Returned to Fryburg on second day. Took 
 horse and chaise for Centre Harbor, 40 mis. through 
 Eaton, Tamworth, Sandwich, Moultonboro'-got off 
 the road and travelled round some ten or fifteen 
 miles. Threaded a pine woods and witnessed the wo- 
 nderful effects of a thunder-storm, or tornado in 
 tearing up by the roots some of the sturdiest trees, 
 several of which had fallen across the road, but were 
 removed. It was such a tornado as Dante de- 
 scribes : 
 
 ' A mighty wind 
 Which, rushing swift to coo 1 some fervid zone, 
 Shatters the wood, and sweeping unconfined, 
 Tears off the boughs, beats down, and hurls away ; 
 In clouds of dust advances proudly on, 
 And fdls the beasts and shepherds with dismay.' 
 
 Centre Harbor is at the head of Winnipiseogee 
 Lake — a lake said not to be inferior to the far-fam- 
 ed Lake George. It contains not less than 365 is- 
 lands in its waters. In the vicinity of this lake is a 
 peculiar elevation, called * Red Mountain,' from its 
 remarkably red appearance at a distance. It is an 
 object with travellers to ascend this mountain. My 
 little brother and myself were desirous of making 
 the ascent. So, as is usual, we took a guide and 
 saddle horse w r ith a horse and wagon, and rode to 
 the base of the mountain, a distance of four miles. 
 We unharnessed our wagon-horse and saddled him 
 
OLH MAN OF THE MOUNTAIN. 175 
 
 and my brother and myself mounted on horse-back. 
 Our guide being on foot, we thus commenced the 
 ascent. It is 1 3-4 miles to the summit. The path 
 is stony and precipitous in some places, but it is 
 not a difficult matter to ride to the summit. 
 
 Half way up this mountain, or more, on a com- 
 paratively level spot, is the cot of an old man who 
 when young and newly married took up his abode 
 here in the depth of the forest and among the wild 
 beasts — driven, as he told me, by necessity from 
 the haunts of men. He goes by the appellation of 
 the ' Old Man of the Mountain.' He is very obli- 
 ging to those who reach the place of his habitation, 
 and delights to impart to them all the information in 
 his possession, He has two children who are deaf 
 and dumb, but are far from lacking shrewdness. 
 We were regaled with blue-berries and an abundance 
 of blue-berry cake gathered and made by his deaf 
 and dumb daughter. The old man seemed to be 
 glad to go to the summit with us, and we were not 
 at all sorry. So we moved on,- part on foot — part 
 on horse-back. On the way something led me to 
 relate to him the ancient fable of the Old Man of 
 the Mountain and Death. In turn he related to 
 me an anecdote of his wife, wherein the fable was 
 reduced to fact. His wife w r ent one afternoon to 
 visit some of her neighbors several miles off. She 
 was to return before night, and he had agreed to meet 
 her at a certain place to accompany her the rest of 
 the way home. She did not start until it was rather 
 
176 DEATH NOT SO WELCOME. 
 
 late and the neighbors told her £ they should think 
 she would be afraid the bears would catch her.' 
 She replied that ' she had such a hard lot in this 
 world that she did n't care if they did.' The bears 
 were not such great strangers in those days as they 
 are now,and it happened that before she had reached 
 the place where her husband was to meet her, she es- 
 pied, beside the path and very near to her alarge black 
 bear working his nose under the trunk of a fallen 
 and rotten tree. He heard foot-steps and look- 
 ed up. The poor woman was frightened almost 
 out of her senses. Though she had endured and 
 was likely to endure many more trials, she was not 
 quite prepared to^be seized and devoured by the wild 
 beasts. She was no more ready to obey the sum- 
 mons than the old man of the fable. 
 
 We eased the ascent by such unrestrained chat 
 and in a short time found ourselves upon the sum- 
 mit. We were one hour in the ascent. The view 
 from this mountain is almost unrivalled for beauty. 
 Winnipisseogee lake with its multitude of arms ex- 
 tending in all directions and its hundreds of islands 
 of every shape, size and aspect — Squam lake, small 
 compared with the former, but very beautiful — even 
 romantic, though with an unromantic name — lie 
 spread out distinctly before the eye. But I shall 
 not attempt a description of the extensive and de- 
 lightful prospect after the excellent and accurate 
 one of Dr. D wight. 
 
MEMOIR 
 
 OF 
 
 REV. HENRY AUGUSTUS WALKER 
 
 * Like other tyrants, Death delights to smite 
 What smitten most proclaims the pride of power.' 
 
 Young. 
 
 The papers have within a short time brought us 
 the melancholy tidings of the death of Mr. Walker 
 on one of the West India Islands. He died at San- 
 ta Cruz, Feb. 17th, 1838 — aged 28, and was in- 
 terred on the island at his own request. 
 
 I cannot consent that the grave should close over 
 the remains of the deceased without some effort to 
 keep alive his remembrance. For he was an indi- 
 vidual of no common excellence. I feel moreover, 
 that as I was so fortunate as to enjoy his friendship 
 for many years, some tribute is due from me to his 
 memory. Says the wise man, c The memory of 
 the just is blessed. 5 Such is the memory of the de- 
 parted. 
 
 Mr. Walker was a native of Charlestown. My 
 first acquaintance with him was at Billerica,to which 
 place we were sent when boys to attend the acade- 
 my, then under the superintendance of the Rev. 
 Bernard Whitman. Here he exhibited the samp 
 
178 MEMOIR OF 
 
 qualities which marked his character in after life. 
 He was fitted for college at Exeter, N. H. While 
 in this place he experienced the power of religion 
 through the ministrations of a Trinitarian clergyman, 
 and connected himself with his church. This step 
 he afterwards regretted, and it occasioned him con- 
 siderable uneasiness of mind. He was about be- 
 ginning his collegiate career. He entered Cam- 
 bridge University in 1826. Though I had been in 
 College one year, circumstances threw us much to- 
 gether and we became very intimate. I ever found 
 him gentle and modest, sincere, affectionate and 
 true, devoted to his studies, singularly just in his 
 judgements of persons and opinions, and possessed 
 of the deepest moral and religious principles. His 
 diffidence was great, and it led him to shrink from 
 much intercourse with his class-mates, and caused 
 him often to appear to disadvantage in the recitation 
 room. He however stood well with his fellows and 
 graduated with a respectable rank. The time had 
 arrived for him to enter upon a profession. The 
 temper of his mind was always serious, and he chose 
 with readiness the profession of Divinity. The 
 great question with him was where he should com- 
 mence his studies — whether at Andover or Cam- 
 bridge. Some of his family preferred he should 
 study at the former, others at the latter place, ac- 
 cording to their particular creeds. 
 
 His own mind was wavering. At length after 
 much deliberation upon the subject, he concludeds 
 
REV. H. A. WALKER. 17? 
 
 to go to Cambridge, though inclined to a graver 
 Theology than that which prevails there. As I did 
 no tenter the Theological School until the second 
 year after my graduation at college, Mr. Walker and 
 myself were in the same class. Our intimacy now 
 became more close than ever. The condition of 
 my own mind was not very different from that of 
 my friend. I felt a disposition for something a little 
 more grave than the Theology of Liberal Christian- 
 ity. Still my mind, like his, w T as in a very undeci- 
 ded state in regard to the great questions in dispute 
 among the different sects of Christians. My friend 
 and myself were determined to preserve our minds 
 as free as possible from all prejudice or partiality, 
 to study the Scriptures in their original languages 
 with care and earnestness, and to receive those doc- 
 trines as true which we should find taught, be they 
 Trinitarian and Calvinistic, Unitarian and Arminian, 
 or whatever different. For the space ot three years 
 we werein each other's company some part of al- 
 most every day. We studied together. We read 
 to each other. W r e discussed more or less almost 
 every difficult point in Theology. The more we 
 investigated and reasoned, the more all tendencies 
 to orthodoxy were checked within us, until at length 
 we became firmly grounded in the principles of Lib- 
 eral Christianity. We rejoiced in the liberty where- 
 Christ had made us free. 
 
 As soon as w T e had finished the prescribed term 
 of theological study, we took a tour in company 
 
180 MEMOIR OF 
 
 through the several States, visiting the Falls of 
 Trenton and Niagara, Lake Erie, Pittsburg, the 
 Allegany Mountains and Bedford Springs in the 
 Southern part of Pennsylvania. As a travelling 
 companion he was all one could desire, intelligent, 
 curious, agreeable, persevering and never disturbed 
 by trifles. This tour, of which it becomes me to 
 speak cursorily and only so for as it is connected 
 with the life of him whose remembrance should be 
 cherished, was beneficial to Mr. Walker's health, 
 as well as his mind. It gave him an opportunity of 
 mingling more freely with mankind than he had been 
 in the habit. After this he preached a few times 
 and then prepared for a journey to Europe, in part 
 for the benefit of his health and an acquaintance with 
 the world, but especially for greater advancement 
 in theological science. He was abroad nearly two 
 years. He travelled in England, Scotland, France 
 and Germany. In Germany he remained some 
 time at the University in Berlin, devoting his time 
 and strength to his favorite studies. He collected 
 something of a library of German theological works, 
 which he brought home with him. I have heard him 
 converse upon the subject of his travels. He seem- 
 ed to have turned them to a good account — having, 
 treasured up much knowledge of men and things. 
 Whatever he saw, heard, or learnt, he could describe 
 with remarkable vividness and truth. He had ac- 
 curately observed the characteristics of the differ- 
 ent nations among which he travelled, and possess- 
 
REV. H. A. WALKER. 181 
 
 ing much discrimination and acuteness, he was 
 scarcely surpassed in the skill and exactness with 
 which he could severally represent them. Soon af- 
 ter his return from abroad he entered upon the du- 
 ties of his profession, and wherever he labored in 
 the vineyard of the Lord, he left a favorable im- 
 pression of his character and capacity. His health, 
 though improved by his foreign travels, was not firm- 
 ly established, and it was not long before it began 
 to falter under the pressure of the cares and respon- 
 sibilities ol the Christian Ministry. About this time 
 some effort was made to procure his services in the 
 preparation of a commentary upon the New Testa- 
 ment, and some arrangement would have been made 
 by him had his health permitted. No one could 
 be better qualified for the task than himself. 
 He was an unprejudiced and faithful student, was 
 blessed with a strong and accurate understanding, 
 and I may say, for one of his age, was learned in 
 the Scriptures. We have great reason to lament 
 that he was not spared to accomplish this work. 
 His health continued to decline. It became neces- 
 sary for him to withdraw from the labors of his pro- 
 fession, and at length to give over all mental exer- 
 tion whatsoever. For some time before he sailed 
 for the West Indies he had been confined to the 
 house. While he was in this failing state, the death 
 of his father must have operated upon him unfavor- 
 ably. I saw him from time to time when I visited 
 C — n. but I could perceive no ground of encour- 
 
 ^16 
 
182 MEMOIR OF 
 
 agement that he would ever entirely recover. There 
 appeared to be no vigor in his constitution. He 
 was obliged to take medicine constantly, and at 
 length a cough, though not a very bad one, seized 
 upon his vitals. I was unwilling to give up all 
 hope, but the last time I saw him I felt that his fate 
 was sealed. One of his physicians advised him, as 
 the only chance of prolonging his existence, to resort 
 to a warmer clime. When he informed me he had 
 determined to go, I had, I confess, but little faith 
 in its being of any ultimate benefit to him. Indeed 
 it seemed to me there was but a bare possibility of 
 his living to reach home again. As far as I could 
 judge he had not much hope himself. Pale, ema- 
 ciated, without strength, his bodily system out of 
 order, and growing more so every day, depressed 
 and almost discouraged in mind, when I bade him 
 farewell I did it with a heavy heart, feeling that I 
 should not see him more. He was to sail the next 
 week, and when the time came, it is not difficult to 
 conceive the many saddening feelings with which 
 he must have left his home, so dear to him — his 
 sick mother — his brothers and sisters who loved 
 him and hoped, though against hope, that he would 
 live to be an ornament to the church and an honor 
 to his name. Circumstances were such that nei- 
 ther brother, nor sister — neither friend nor ac- 
 quaintance could accompany him. His only com- 
 panion was a servant and a stranger. From his last 
 conversation with me it appeared he was satisfied, 
 
REV. H« A. WALKER, 183 
 
 if his passage off the coast was bad, all would soon 
 be over with him. He felt that he was running a 
 great risk, but it was for his life ; and what will not 
 not man do for his life ? 
 
 The voyage at first seemed to be beneficial, but 
 during the latter part of it he relapsed, his lungs dis- 
 charged blood freely, and the last four nights were 
 very distressing to him. He told his servant once or 
 twice he did not think he should live until morning ; 
 and the thought of dying on board and being thrown 
 into the sea was dreadful to him. Every effort was 
 made to dispel apprehension and to sustain his spirits. 
 When at length the vessel was said to approach land 
 he was much relieved and rejoiced. He reached the 
 island of Santa Cruz on Wednesday, 14th of Feb, 
 Dr.Stedman, who visited him, considered him a very 
 sick man, and his situation called forth much sym- 
 pathy from him and many others. On Friday he was 
 able to walk about the apartment and entry of the 
 house where he lodged. The warmth of the climate 
 however prostrated his little remaining strength. On 
 Saturday morning he spoke to his servant and told 
 him he would try to get up. In the effort he was 
 seized with a shivering and fainting turn, which pro- 
 duced utter senselessness for some minutes. The 
 physician was called. He had already pronounced 
 him consumptive as well as dyspeptic, and he now 
 pronounced him beyond hope. After some persua- 
 sion he felt it his duty to inform him of his situation 
 and that he had but little time to live. The infor- 
 
184 MEMOIR OF 
 
 mati*on,tohis agreeable disappointment, was received 
 without a murmur or a sigh — with the most perfect 
 composure and resignation. He was asked if he 
 had any directions to leave behind him. As he had 
 arranged all his affairs before his departure, he had 
 but little to say. His thoughts doubtless were with 
 his God and his distant friends. Before he ex- 
 pired, he took his watch from around his neck and, 
 reaching it to his attendant, told him to carry it 
 home. These were the last words he spoke. In 
 a few minutes after he fell asleep in death. 
 
 Reader, think of that death-bed — on a sea- 
 beat island, far away from country and home, 
 with none but the eyes of strangers fixed upon him, 
 and none but hands of the stranger to administer to 
 him in the last great agony \ c Let me die 
 among my kindred,' becomes the prayer of every 
 heart. It appears however that his end was peaceful 
 and serene. He was a good man and regarded him- 
 self in the hands of God in any part of his universe. 
 
 How blest the righteous when he dies! 
 
 When sinks a weary soul to rest, 
 How mildly beam the closing eyes, 
 
 How gently heaves the expiring breast! 
 
 So fades a summer cloud away, 
 
 So sinks the gale when storms are o'er, 
 
 So gently shuts the eye of day, 
 So dies a wave along the shore. 
 
 The following extracts from a letter dated c Santa 
 Cruz, February 18th, 1838,' has been put irjto my 
 
REV. H. A. WALKER. 185 
 
 hands, and contains particulars of such interest 
 concerning his death and burial as to justify its pub- 
 licity : 
 
 "In that new made grave was but yesterday interred the bo- 
 dy of Rev. Henry A. Walker, a young Unitarian clergyman from , 
 as we are told, Charlestown Mass. Although we knew him 
 not, we could not but feel deeply interested in him, so far sep- 
 arated from all his near friends. He arrived here about a week 
 since very sick, very feeble indeed, but apparently unconscious 
 of the fatal character of his disease, as he told Dr. Stedman 
 that his lungs were not affected, and that if he could cure a 
 particular symptom of dyspepsia of which he complained, he 
 should get well. Dr. S. saw at that time that he wonld not 
 live many days. He was altogether too feeble to receive any 
 visits, or the little attentions we would gladly have paid him. 
 He fell into kind hands, and if his own mother had been with 
 him, he could not have been treated witn more tenderness, or 
 have had more judicious care taken of him. Miss Briggs, his 
 landlady, makes all her boarders love her. Rev. Mr. Lee, the 
 gentleman to whom he had a letter, was absent with his family 
 at the other end of the island, and detained there by the sick- 
 ness of his mother and sister; but Capt. Spencer, a son of 
 Judge Spencer's of New York, thought for him and fell for him 
 with as much interest as if he were his own brother. When 
 Capt. S. found on Saturday that he was rapidly sinking, he sent 
 for Mr. Livingston, a most excellent gentleman who boards with 
 us, to consult as to the propriety of letting Mr. W. know his 
 situation. They both felt that it would be unkind to let him die 
 unconsciously, for although they trusted he had not then to 
 make his preparation for death, yet they thought he might have 
 some message of importance to send, or some arrangements 
 of importance to make. They felt that it would be doing him 
 injustice not to apprize him of the event, which would take 
 place in a few days, or hours. They called upon Dr. Sted- 
 man and requested him to tell Mr. Walker the truth. Al- 
 though remarkably sincere as a professional man, he felt un- 
 
 16* 
 
186 MEMOIR OP 
 
 pleasantly "at undertaking the office. He said the young mail 
 was so unconscious of being so dangerously ill, and at the same 
 time was so very weak, that the suddenness of the intelligence 
 might agitate him and accelerate his death Still he acknowl- 
 edged that under any circumstances he could not live many 
 hours. At length he thought best to do it. Happily the intel- 
 ligence produced no ill effect. The young man was perfectly 
 calm, and said he had no arrangements to make, nothing to say, 
 but what he could say to Mr. Lee if he came the next day. Dr. 
 Stedman told him that would be too late ; that Capt. Spen- 
 cer was a gentleman in whom he could feel perfect confidence. 
 Mr. Walker afterwards sent for Capt. Spencer. He was then 
 too feeble to say much, but Capt S. assisted him as much as 
 he could, by anticipating in some measure what he wished to 
 have said to his friends. Mr. Walker's mind was perfectly 
 clear and cairn. He died about an hour after, at 9 o'clock Sat- 
 urday evening. We all felt very much touched, as you may 
 suppose, when we heard of this Sunday morning. The funeral 
 was to be Sunday afternoon. We went to Miss B.'s after meet- 
 ing in the morning that we might hear all the particulars from 
 Capt. and Mrs. Spencer. I went into his room with Mrs 9. and 
 looked at him as he lay in his coffin. We could not but speak 
 of his mother, and wish she might have the melancholy satisfac- 
 tion of gazing upon him as we did. In the afternoon most of the 
 Americans and some of the residents assembled at the house at 
 4 o'clock. The coffin, according to the custom here, was cov. 
 ered and lined with white cambric and three white napkins were 
 laid under it for the pall-holders to lift it by. When it was time, 
 the pall-holders, who had white satin rosettes, or bows on their 
 hats and white gloves, on raised the body and carried it to the 
 hearse. The servant followed first as chief mourner, with a long 
 weeper hanging from the back of his hat, then all the gentlemen 
 in pairs, then the ladies, then the servants of the house and sev- 
 eral other colored people following in a little group. We en- 
 tered the church, where the body was laid in the aisle. The 
 funeral service of the Episcopal church was commenced, and 
 very impressive it was at that still hour of the day, listened to 
 by a little band, in that large church. 
 
Rev. h. a. walker. 187 
 
 "The 15th chapter of Corinthians never had more power over 
 me than then. The little procession moved into the burying 
 ground, and I stood close at the foot of the grave and saw the 
 poor fellow laid in his narrow home. I wish his friends could 
 have beheld the scene. It was a few minutes before sunset, and 
 a breathless and reverent stillness pervaded all around. A group 
 of people, who a few months since were all strangers to each 
 other, met together around the body of one, emphatically " a 
 stranger in a strange land." The look of tender regret visible 
 in every face as their eyes fixed upon the grave, and the deep 
 solemnity which spread over every countenance as the reader 
 went on with the service, " Man that is born of woman," &c, 
 I shall never forget. If Mr. Walker had been among his own 
 friends, he could hardly have had, I think, more heartfelt sym- 
 pathy. My mind has been filled with the subject, and 1 have 
 thought that if you were acquainted with Mr. Walker's friends, 
 they might be interested in these little particulars." 
 
 Thus a young man of great promise is prema- 
 turely sent to the grave and the fond expectations of 
 many hearts are turned to ashes. 
 
 We naturally ask, why such an event is ordained 
 or permitted? 
 
 ' Why are the bad above, the good beneath 
 The green grass of the grave ?' 
 
 and, though we can assign some purposes that are 
 answered by such appointments, we are compelled to 
 acknowledge that c God moves in a mysterious way.' 
 Some may think that it would be better to have 
 things ordered differently, but God is not reduced to 
 the necessity of consulting our wisdom to know 
 when it is best to remove his children hence. He 
 is infinitely wise, and all that he does must be right* 
 He has brought us into the worlds he knows best 
 
188 MEMOIR OF 
 
 when to take us out of it. Let us be submissive to 
 the Divine will. Let us adore the unimpeachable 
 wisdom of the All-Perfect. 
 
 It becomes me, ere I bring this notice to a close, 
 to point out the excellences and virtues of the char- 
 acter of the deceased with more particularity. 
 
 The dead are commonly overpraised. — I would 
 not speak of him in terms of extravagant eulogy. 
 Indeed I can hardly venture to speak of him in a 
 manner due to his deserts lest his habitual modesty 
 might seem to reprove me. It shall be my endea- 
 vor to speak the truth of him — no more than the 
 truth — no less than the truth. 
 
 Mr. Walker was a man of retired habits and 
 seldom made his appearance in general society, but 
 those intimately acquainted with him, will bear tes- 
 timony to the correctness of the following charac- 
 ter. He was a man of a singularly clear and dis- 
 criminating mind, of great candour, justice, and sin- 
 cerity. As a scholar, he was correct and indefat- 
 igable. He loved study, because he loved truth. 
 He sought for it as the pearl of great price. As 
 a friend, he was faithful and firm. None ever had 
 occasion to question the warmth of his affections, 
 or their truth and permanency. His whole demean- 
 or was that of a gentle, modest, and humble man. 
 His conscience was quick and active. His prin- 
 ciples were, humanly speaking, immutable. His 
 feelings were tender and delicate. Though em- 
 barrassingly timid, he was, at times, a courageous 
 
REV. H. A. WALKER. 189 
 
 advocate of truth and rectitude, an unsparing denoun- 
 cer of error and vice. He had ability, and when 
 occasion required, he relied upon this rather than 
 his courage. His temperament was calm — dispas- 
 sionate — philosophic. In fine he was a devout 
 man and ' in wisdom,' as has been truly said of him, 
 c he was early old.' — Such was the character of the 
 deceased. In his death the profession to which he 
 belonged has sustained a severe loss. To his com- 
 panions at the University, and to those who were 
 prepared with, him by the discipline of several years, 
 for the ministry of the Gospel, this event must speak 
 in tones solemn, affecting, saddening. An ex- 
 tended family circle mourns his unhappy fate and 
 the disappointment of dear hopes. But the con- 
 solation which religious faith affords to all who lament 
 the early and sad termination of his mortal career, is 
 that, though gone from them, he is not lost. 'Blessed 
 are the dead, which die in the Lord. — They rest 
 from their labors and their works do follow them.' 
 
MEMOIR 
 
 OF 
 
 REV. ZABDIEL ADAMS. 
 
 5 Let us now praise famous men and our fathers that begat 
 us — such as did bear rule in their kingdoms, men renowned for 
 their power — leaders of the people by their counsels, and by 
 their knowledge of learning meet for the people, wise and elo- 
 quent in their instructions.' Son of Sirach. 
 
 Mr. Adams was born in that part of Braintree, 
 now called Quincy, Nov. 5th, 1739. His father, 
 Capt. Ebenezer Adams, was brother to the father 
 of John Adams, and his mother, whose maiden 
 name was Ann Boylston, was sister to the mother 
 of the President. Hence John Adams and himself 
 were a sort of double cousins. They were educa- 
 ted in the closest intimacy with each other, and in 
 after life kept up a cordial correspondence. The 
 President was strongly attached to his cousin, as ap- 
 years from the following observation which he made 
 after his decease, ' When I lost him, I lost bone of 
 my bone and flesh of my flesh.' 
 
 Mr. Adams was graduated at Cambridge in 1759. 
 He was inclined to the study of law. But his fa- 
 ther opposed this inclination, and was earnestly de- 
 sirous he should enter the ministry. He consulted 
 the wishes of his father, and said on his death-bed 
 he was rejoiced he had done so. 
 
MEMOIR OF REV. ZABDIEL ADaMS. 191 
 
 Sept. 5th, 1764 he was ordained as Pastor of the 
 church in Lunenburg. 
 
 In 1774 he discovered acuteness, though he did 
 not meet with success, in the management of a con- 
 troversy on the question, whether the Pastor has a 
 negative voice on the proceedings of the church. 
 He maintained that he has, in the same manner as 
 the Governor of Massachusetts has a negative voice 
 on the acts of the General Court. 
 
 The character of Mr. Adams is best illustrated 
 by a selection frcm the various anecdotes that are 
 related of him. Some that are connected with his 
 name are probably untrue. The following,obtained 
 from the most authentic sources, may be relied upon. 
 
 When Mr. Adams had chosen his partner for life, 
 which was about the time of his settlement, he said 
 to her in order to ascertain whether she loved him 
 as well as he did her. c I am just through my stud- 
 ies, Miss Boylston, and $400 in debt, and think it 
 advisable to put off marriage for about one year. 
 What do you think ?' c 0,' said she, c whatever 
 may be agreeable to you. If you wish to defer it, I 
 am willing. ' c Are you ?' said he, springing from his 
 chair, c Well, I am not, Worlds would not tempt 
 me.' 
 
 He was very fond of his wife, but tried to make 
 people believe he was not. Indeed if she was out, 
 I have heard it said, he would go down to the gate 
 in front fo his house and stand there looking up and 
 
192 MEMOIR OF 
 
 down the road to get a glimpse of her. When she 
 came in sight, he would return to his study, surround 
 himself with open books, and appear to be much 
 absorbed when she came in. c Well, wife,' he 
 would say, throwing his arms back, c you have been 
 out it seems,' as if he did not know it before. 
 1 What did you hear ?' &c. 
 
 The singing choir of the parish desired the sup- 
 port of a school for improvement in music. Through 
 the influence of a certain individual, who was a man 
 of note in the town, the request was not granted. 
 The consequence was that on the next Sabbath 
 there was nobody in the singing seats. Mr. Adams 
 took occasion to make some remarks to his people 
 on the importance of music as a part of public 
 worship and then told them that unless they furnish- 
 ed music, he should not furnish preaching. He 
 informed the scattered members of the choir that if 
 they had been wronged, he would endeavor to see 
 their wrongs redressed, and on the following Sab- 
 bath preached a sermon from this text, of which he 
 made an almost iJointecl application, 'It must needs 
 be that offences come, but woe unto that man by 
 whom the offence cometh.' The parish soon re- 
 considered and reversed their former vote, and the 
 seats afterwards were well filled with singers. 
 
 A certain individual of his parish called on him 
 one day and told him he could not in conscience go 
 
REV. ZABDIEL ADAMS. 193 
 
 to meeting while the violin and base viol, instruments 
 used at parties and balls were permitted to be in the 
 singing seats. SaysMrAdams, 'Captain — , 'calling him 
 by name, 'I had no hand in introducing them into the 
 seats and I shall have no hand in turning them out. 
 All is, if you can come to meeting, very well; if not, 
 we can get along very well without you. 5 The Cap- 
 tain, it is said was found in his pew as regular as ever. 
 
 He had attended a funeral one afternoon and 
 was following the corpse, in the rear of the pro- 
 cession, to the grave yard. All of a sudden the 
 procession came to a stand. After a considerable 
 pause, Mr. Adams got impatient and walked to the 
 bier to know the cause thereof. The Pall-bearers 
 informed him that a sheriff from Leominster had 
 attached the body for debt. This practice was le- 
 gal at this period. c Attached the body ?' exclaim- 
 ed Mr. A. thumping his cane down with vehe- 
 mence. c Move on,' said he ' and bury the man. 
 I have made a prayer at a funeral and somebody 
 shall be buried. If the Sheriff objects, take him up 
 and bury him.' The bier was raised without delay, 
 the procession moved on and the Sheriff thought best 
 to molest them no further or in vulgar parlance, made 
 
 himself scarce. A Parishioner brought a child to 
 
 him to be baptised. The old parson leaned forward 
 and asked him the name. 'Ichabod,' says he. Now 
 Mr. A. had a strong prejudice against this name. 
 c Poh, poh,' says he. ' John, you mean. John, 
 I baptise thee in the name, &c.' 
 
 17 
 
194 MEMOIR OF 
 
 One Sabbath afternoon his people were expect- 
 ing a stranger to preach whom they were all anx- 
 ious to hear, and a much more numerous congre- 
 gation than usual had assembled. The stranger did 
 not come and of course the people were disap- 
 pointed. Mr. Adams found himself obliged to offi- 
 ciate, and in the course of his devotional exercise 
 he spoke to this effect. "We beseech thee, O 
 Lord, for this people, who have come up with itch- 
 ing ears to the Sanctuary, that that their severe af- 
 fliction may be sanctified to them for their moral 
 and spiritual good, and that the humble efforts of 
 thy servant may be made, through thy grace, in some 
 measure effectual to their edification, &c. 
 
 A Parishioner, one of those who did' not sit 
 down and count the cost, undertook to build a' 
 house, and invited his friends and neighbors to have 
 a frolic with him in digging the cellar. After the 
 work was finished Mr. Adams happened to be 
 passing by, and stopping addressed him thus. "Mr. 
 Ritter, you have had a frolic and digged your cel- 
 lar. You had better have another frolic and fill it 
 up again." Had he heeded the old man's advice, 
 he would have escaped the misery of pursuit from 
 hungry creditors, and the necessity of resort to a 
 more humble dwelling. 
 
 A neighboring minister — a mild inoffensive man 
 .— • with whom he was about to exchange, said to 
 
REV. ZABDIEL ADAMS. 195 
 
 him, knowing the peculiar bluntness of his charac- 
 acter, < You will find some panes of glass in the pul- 
 pit window broken, and possibly you may suffer 
 from the cold. The cushion too, is in a bad condi- 
 tion, but I beg of you not to say anything to my 
 people on the subject. They are poor,' &c. <0, 
 no! 0, no!' says Mr. Adams. But ere he left home, 
 he filled a bag with rags and took it with him. When 
 he had been in the pulpit a short time, feeling some- 
 what incommoded by the too free circulation of air, 
 he deliberately took from the bag a handful or two 
 of rags and stuffed them into the window. — Tow t - 
 ards the close of his discourse, which was more or 
 less upon the duties of a people towards their cler- 
 gyman, he became very animated and purposely 
 brought down both his fists with tremendous force 
 upon the pulpit cushion. The feathers flew in all 
 directions, and the cushion was pretty much used 
 up. He instantly checked the current of his thoughts 
 and simply exclaiming, c Why, how these feathers 
 fly !' proceeded. He had fulfilled his promise of not 
 addressing the society on the subject^ but had taught 
 them a lesson not to be misunderstood. On the 
 next Sabbath the window and cushion were found 
 in excellent repair. 
 
 The foregoing anecdotes illustrate the remarkable 
 independence and fearlessness of Mr. Adams and 
 the degree of influence which the clergy exerted in 
 his day. — The following anecdotes are characteris- 
 tic of the man, but are of a different stamp. 
 
196 MEMOIR OF 
 
 One night he put up at the house of Mr. Emer- 
 son, the minister of Hollis. Now his host, as was 
 the general custom, took a glass of bitters every 
 morning, and it so happened that they were in the 
 closet of the chamber where Mr. Adams slept. 
 With the morning came his craving for his bitters. 
 He did not wish to disturb Mr. A, but he was very 
 anxious to get his bitters and try he must. So he 
 opened the door softly and crept slyly to the said 
 closet. Mr. Adams heard him, but wishing to know 
 what he would be at, pretended to be asleep. As 
 soon as he had secured the prize and was about ma- 
 king his escape, Mr. A. broke the profound silence 
 of the apartment with this exclamation, ' Bro. Em- 
 erson, I have always heard you was a very pious 
 man — much given to your closet devotions, but I 
 never caught you at them before.' 'Pshaw — 
 pshaw!' replied his friend, who made for the door 
 and shut it as soon as he cleverly could. 
 
 Sometimes he received a good hit, as it is well 
 known he gave many. He said to the minister of 
 Shirley one day, ' My people like to have me ex- 
 change with you very well, Bro. Whitney.' 'Good 
 reason why,' was the reply. ' They like to have 
 good preaching once in a while.' 'Poh — poh!' 
 says Mr. Adams. 'No such thing. It is because 
 they like to see you coming up from Shirley on 
 horse-back ; you ride so smart through the town. 
 Mr. W. prided himself on his horsemanship. 
 
REV. ZABDIEL ADaMS. 197 
 
 On an occasion when the Trustees of GrotonAcad- 
 emy were assembled, it became necessary for the 
 laws of the Institution to be read aloud. Mr Adams 
 read over a part and handed them to Mr. W. whom 
 all present knew to be less fond of his books than his 
 horse, saying 'Here, Bro. Whitney, you are a bookish 
 man — read. ' The retort came quick — ' I know as 
 mnch about books as you do about good manners.' 
 
 A council was convened at Westford to act upon 
 the dismission of Mr. Scrivener. Mr. Adams was 
 called upon to open the council with prayer. He 
 declined. It was urged upon him. He declined 
 more positively, saying he had made one prayer that 
 morning. He was told that the duty devolved up- 
 on him as the oldest member present. They were 
 so importunate that he was a little offended. Where- 
 upon seizing a chair, he arose in haste and offered a 
 prayer to God, the impression of which has not 
 been effaced even at this late day. When it was fin- 
 ished, the minister of Shirley said to Dr.R. ' I think 
 Mr. Adams prays best when he is a little mad.' 
 
 An individual in his parish killed one of his kine 
 and told an older son to carry such a part to Mr. 
 Adams. He said he didn't want to go, for he had 
 been twice and got nothing for his pains. A young- 
 er son thought he could get something and offered 
 to go. He took the meat to the house and pushing 
 without ceremony into the room where Mr. A. and 
 
 17* 
 
198 MEMOIR OP 
 
 some company were engaged in conversation, laid 
 it down and said in a bold tone, ' Father has sent 
 you this meat.' c Did your father, 'says Mr. Adams, 
 ' tell you to come into the room and speak to me in 
 this way ?' ' No,' replied the boy. 'Let me shew 
 you, then/ said Mr. A. ' how you should have done 
 you errand.' So having told the boy to sit down 
 in a certain chair, he took the piece of meat and 
 going out of the room came back in a very modest 
 manner and said to the boy, (representing Mr. A.) 
 in a very respectful tone, c Father has sent you a 
 piece of meat, if you will please to accept it.' ' Yes, 
 I will,' says the boy, c and, wife, give the boy 
 two coppers.' This reply pleased Mr. A. so much 
 that he told the boy to go into the next room and 
 tell Mrs. Adams to give him the two coppers. Mr. 
 Adams was always pleased with indications of bright- 
 ness in the young and he frequently talked with them 
 with a view to try and bring out their wits. Such 
 replies as these afforded him much satisfaction and 
 delight, perhaps the more, because the young were 
 generally afraid of him and kept at a distance. Riding 
 along on horse-back one day, he asked a boy he met, 
 1 Who lives in that house, my boy ?' pointing to a 
 house about which he and everybody knew. The 
 boy looked up in Mr. A.'s face roguishly and said, 
 c Mr. Nobody lives there and he's not at home.' 
 Mr. A rode on with a hearty laugh. 
 
 At another time he asked a boy which way he 
 should take to a neighboring town, whither the young- 
 
REV. ZABDIEL ADAMS. 199 
 
 ster knew he was in the habit of going. The reply 
 was, * The way, sir, you always do.' Mr. A. spur- 
 red up his horse and laughed heartily as before. 
 
 When the younger son of Mr. A. was in college, 
 he was fined a dollar for throwing snow-balls in the 
 college yard. He expected that his father would 
 give him a severe lecture when he should read the 
 item, or, in the phraseology of the students, 'the 
 poetry ' on his bill. On the contrary, at the sight 
 of it, his usual sternness was relaxed to a smile. It 
 reminded him of something similar in its result, 
 which occurred in his own college Hie. 
 
 He was in College at the time when wigs were 
 every were in vogue, and freshmen were treated by 
 the Tutors and the older classes little better than 
 servants. He told his son that he lived under a 
 Tutor and was at his beck continually. That one day 
 he sent for him so frequently he got out of all pa- 
 tience, and went up at last with his wig turned wrong 
 side foremost ; for which he was summoned before 
 the Faculty and fined a dollar. 
 
 His older son one Sabbath fell in a fit in Dr. 
 Morse's church in Charlestown. Word was sent to 
 his father at L — g that his son was quite unwell. 
 He immediately came down to see him. As soon 
 as he arrived, the gentleman of the house with whom 
 he boarded came to the gate. Mr. Adams inquired 
 after his son. He was told that he had a fit on 
 Sunday. ' A fit !' exclaimed Mr. A. 'A fit! My 
 
200 MEMOIR OF 
 
 family know nothing of fits unless it be mad fits. I 
 have them once in a while, but they pass off without 
 harm. ' 
 
 The following curious anecdote rests on the best 
 of authority. While Mr. A. was engaged in the study 
 of divinity, he boarded with his aunt, the mother of 
 John Adams. The latter was at the same period 
 engaged in the study of Law. Mrs. A. was a pious 
 woman and prayers were offered daily in her family. 
 Her son and nephew officiated in turn. Zabdiel 
 said to his cousin one day, 1 1 like your prayers very 
 well, John, but there is no variety in them; you say 
 the same thing over and over again. ' This remark 
 gave offence to John, and he declared he never 
 would pray again. The next morning at the usual 
 time his mother knocked for him. She waited awhile 
 but he did not make his appearance. She knocked 
 again, but with no better success. She then called 
 on Zabdiel to officiate. He declined, saying that 
 it was John's turn. At length however John came 
 down. Being asked to pray, he arose and simply 
 repeated the Lord's prayer, and ever after he said 
 this and nothing more. 
 
 Mr. Adams was subject to occaisonal fits of 
 depression or hypochondria as it is called. 
 
 When he was afflicted with one of these, a son 
 in law who understood him well, called to see him. 
 He asked how he did, c Poorly, ' said Mr. Adams, 
 * losing flesh and growing thin. I shall not stand it 
 a great while longer.' * Seems to me,' rejoined his 
 
REV. ZABDIEL ADAMS. 201 
 
 son in law, ' you do look thin and poorly. I should 
 not think you would stand it a great while/ Mr. 
 Adams little expected this reply. It however had the 
 effect intended. He walked to the glass, stroked 
 his face with his hand, and said in a sharp and strong 
 tone of voice, which indicated an- unwillingness to 
 have his account with this world settled hastily, 'not 
 so thin either — I shall stand it some time yet.' 
 
 He attended a* council convened to deliberate on 
 the case of a Mr. Pennyman. Upon his return being 
 asked by one of his people where he had been, he 
 replied, ' To a council to consider the case of a 
 Mr. Pennyman — a man rated a half-penny too 
 
 high.- 
 
 Mr. Adams' wife posessed a very retentive mem- 
 ory, and could often refer to chapter and verse when 
 he could not. On an occasion when she had fur- 
 nished him with something he could not recollect, 
 he remarked to those present with a smile, ' Mrs. 
 Adams has profited much by my instruction; you 
 see the fruits of it, my friends.' 
 
 Being asked what he thought of a certain clergy- 
 wan, he replied, c He is a fanciful man. If he would 
 pluck out some of the wing feathers of his imagin- 
 ation and put them in the tail of his judgment, he 
 would do better.' In the discription of Lunenburg, 
 which he wrote at the request of Dr. Morse for in- 
 sertion in his Gazetteer, he observes, with his usual 
 singularity, it is 'more remarkable for the health than 
 the icealth, of its possessors.' 
 
202 MEMOIR OF 
 
 The following saying of his deserves to be re- 
 corded for its practical wisdom, and the sympathy- 
 it indicates with the trials of humanity. — 'Mankind 
 do not realize how hard it is for poor people to be 
 honest.' 
 
 Mr. Adams was a man who (as the reader might 
 suppose from what has been said) thought for him- 
 self on religious subjects, and in the expression of 
 what he thought, was not influenced by the fear of 
 others. For the day in which he lived he was re- 
 markably liberal, in his religious sentiments. 
 
 There is an observation which shews the state of 
 his mind on one disputed topic. ' There are many 
 passages in scripture which seem to imply the final 
 restoration of all mankind, and far be it from me to 
 say that it is not so.' 
 
 Here is another, which, though not expressed in 
 a very clerical manner, indicates his deep dislike of 
 Calvinism. ' John Calvin has done more mischief 
 than his plaguy neck is worth.' Indeed Mr. Ad- 
 ams was one of the two clergymen in Worcester 
 county who dared to assist at the ordination of Dr. 
 Bancroft. His liberality however does not appear 
 to have diminished his influence, which continued 
 to be wide and powerful. I might proceed with an- 
 ecdote upon anecdote of this singular man, but it is 
 unnecessary, and the patience of the most patient 
 reader might be wearied. The peculiar and pre- 
 dominant qualities in the character of Mr. A. must 
 already stand out in sufficient relief. His life, like 
 
REV. ZABDIEL ADAMS. 203 
 
 that of most clergymen, was not marked by extra- 
 ordinary events. He labored in the ministry at 
 Lunenburg for 37 years. Being fond of study he is 
 thought to have shortened his days by too assiduous 
 devotion to his books. The death of his wife, 
 which occurred in August, 1800, was a deep afflic- 
 tion to him, and he survived her loss not many 
 months. Among his singularities, several weeks 
 before his death he uttered this singular prediction 
 in the hearing of his son, who is now living : ' We 
 (speaking of John Adams and himself)shall die about 
 the same time. He, a political ; I, a natural death.' 
 The prediction was actually fulfiilled. The term of 
 the President expired the 3d of March, 1801, and 
 Mr.A.ol L. died the 1st. The scene of his labors was 
 the place of his rest. The monument to his memory 
 in the grave-yard of L. bears the following inscription: 
 
 "This monument is erected by the town, as a tribute of af- 
 fectionate respect to the memory of their deceased Pastor, the 
 
 REV. ZABDIEL ADAMS, 
 who died universally esteemed and respected, March 1, 1801 , 
 in the 62 year of his age and 37th of his ministry. 
 
 An active and capacious mind, nurtured by a publick educa- 
 tion, rendered him an acceptable, instructive, and useful min- 
 ister. The asperities of his constitution were softened by the 
 refining influence of Religion. With a heart and understand- 
 ing formed for social life, he seldom failed to interest and im- 
 prove all who enjoyed his communication. 
 
 In his ministerial performances a ready utterance, command- 
 ing eloquence, and elevated sentiments, made him engaging 
 and profitable. 
 
 A catholic belief of the gospel, a respect and love of the 
 Saviour, and a confidence in the faithfulness of God disarmed 
 death of its terrors and inspired a final and certain hope of 
 resurrection. 
 
 He was a bright and shining light and we rejoiced for a sea- 
 son in his light." 
 
204 MEMOIR OF 
 
 Many of Mr. Adams' sermons were printed. I 
 have a number of them before me. Among them is 
 one delivered at Lexington in 1783 on the adversa- 
 ry of the 19th of April, and an election sermon de- 
 livered in 1782 when John Hancock was Governor. 
 With this his Excellency was so much pleased that he 
 presented Mr. Adams with an elegant black suit. 
 
 He gave the Dudleian lecture on Presbyterian 
 Ordination in 1794. This performance was highly 
 commended by the President of the University, but . 
 it did not appear in print. His sermons were well 
 suited to the times in which he lived, but are not 
 calculated to excite much interest at the present day. 
 
 Mr. Adams received a settlement of £ 200 with 
 a piece of ministerial land (which furnished him with 
 wood) and a salary of only £ 80 a year. With little 
 beside he brought up a family of ten children, gave 
 two of them a college education, and though his 
 house was ever open, left an estate valued at 6000 
 dollars. Such was the economy of olden time. 
 
 The personal appearance of Mr. A. was impos- 
 ing. His frame was large and noble. According to 
 the fashion of his day, he was equipped with a white 
 bush wig of no small dimensions and a three cor- 
 nered cocked up hat. He moreover wielded a 
 stout walking cane. No wonder it was said of him 
 that ' he carried a great presence.'- 1 should feel that 
 I had left this memoir in a half finished state 
 and had done injustice to the memory of Mr. Adams, 
 if I did not present the reader with the character 
 
HEV. ZABDIEL ADAMS. 205 
 
 of him as drawn by those who knew him more or 
 less intimately. 
 
 In a notice written about the time of his death, 
 but never printed, it is said, 
 
 "Few clerical characters have obtained so much celebrity as 
 Mr, Adams. Few indeed have like pretensions to popularity, 
 for it is very uncommon to find united in the same person so 
 much learning, literary taste, and genius. In his intercourse 
 with the world no man had clearer hands. Integrity, candour, 
 and sincerity shone so conspicuous in every part of his beha- 
 viour that even his enemies, (if he had any,) must allow he 
 possessed them in an eminent degree. Free and hospitable in 
 his disposition, he received and entertained his friends with 
 cordial satisfaction, and met the face of the stranger with gen- 
 tle greetings. He sustained a long and p.inful illness with 
 perfect resignation. lie waited the approach of that important 
 hour, which was to decide his.future hopes, with noble constan- 
 cy, and, at the age of 62, closed an useful and honorable life to 
 join the band of kindred spirits in the heavenly world.'* 
 
 Dr. Thayer of Lancaster in a letter writes, after 
 observing that he entered the ministry towards the lat- 
 ter part of Mr. Adams' life aid had not an opportu- 
 nity of an intimate intercourse wit!) him, 
 
 "My recollections of Mr. Adams are highly respectful. I 
 knew him to be one of the most acceptable preachers in this 
 quarter, and that there were peculiarities in his disposition and 
 character which greatly interested all who had an acquaintance 
 with him." 
 
 Dr. Bancroft of Worcester in a letter writes, 
 
 "Mr. Adams was distinguished among the congregational 
 ministers of his day. His mind was cultivated, and his com- 
 positions for the period polished. He embraced, generally 
 speaking, Arminian views respecting Christian doctrine. He 
 was liberal in his christian — ready and communicative in his 
 
 18 
 
206 MEMOIR OF 
 
 social intercourse." In his pulpit performances " often he was 
 bold, lofty, and impressive, sometimes weak and nninteresting. 
 In delivery he differed as much as in his composition. Both 
 depended on the state of his feelings. In manners he was un- 
 reserved — sometimes rough. — Mr. Adams warmly espoused 
 the prerogatives of the Pastoral office. He was conversant 
 with the general affairs of the Church, and often appeared be- 
 fore Ecclesiastical Councils as an advocate for a party in the 
 controversy. 
 
 Mr. Adams was a faithful Parish Minister. His pastoral in- 
 fluence was great, and exercised for the good of the people of 
 his charge. At his death he left his society in a state of peace,- 
 union, and strength. They subsequently fell into division and 
 disorder." 
 
 The funeral discourse of Mr. Whitney of Shir- 
 ley, who lived on terms of intimacy with Mr. Ad- 
 ams for more than forty years, contains the following, 
 
 "The God of nature furnished him with strong and vigorous 
 powers of mind, which were enlarged by a public education 
 and strengthened by application and study, which soon quali 
 fied him to make a conspicuous figure as a minister of the Gos- 
 pel. He was distinguished as a scholar at college; and retain- 
 ed his classical learning in a good degree to the latter part of 
 his life. He had a taste for the arts and sciences in general, 
 and in the most of them made very laudable proficiency.. 'He 
 was a man of knowledge, and understanding was found in him.' 
 * * * His religion was substantial, not tainted with super- 
 stition, nor clouded with enthusiasm, which he always detested; 
 believing where enthusiasm prevailed, the substance and life 
 of religion would soon be lost. * * * For several years 
 before his death, he had a prevailing apprehension that his 
 departure was at hand, and he frequently mentioned it to his 
 friends, with calmness and composure of mind, alledging that 
 he was worn out in the hard service of the ministry; and some- 
 itmes would add 'I have fought a good fight, I have finished 
 my course. I have kept the faith." 
 
REV. ZABDIEL ADAMS. 207 
 
 The foliowing is from the pen of President Allen, 
 the author of the American Biographical Dictiona- 
 ry. Whether he personally knew Mr. A. or not, I 
 am unable to say: 
 
 "Mr. Adams was eminent as a preacher of the Gospel, often 
 explaining the most important doctrines in a rational and 
 scriptural manner, and enforcing them with plainness and pun- 
 gency. His language was nervous; and while in his public 
 performances he gave instruction, he also imparted pleasure. 
 In his addresses to the throne of grace, he was remarkable for 
 pertinency of thought and readiness of utterance. Though by 
 bodily constitution he was liable to irritation, yet he treasured 
 no ill-will in his bosom. His heart was easily touched by the 
 afflictions of others, and his sympathy and benevolence prompt- 
 ed him to administer relief when in his power." 
 
 Such are the life and character of the Rev. Mr. 
 Adams of Lunenburg. Truly he may be numbered 
 among those £ honored in their generations and the 
 glory of their times." 
 
ERRATA. 
 
 Page 5, 10th line from bottom, for ' Nothvvester,' read 'North, 
 easter.' 
 
 " 7, 7th I. from t. for ' the,' read ' an.' 
 
 " 12, 12th 1. from t after 'concentrates,' insert' the.' 
 
 " 20, 2d 1- from b. for ' Collection,' read « Collections.* 
 
 " 21, for < Letter II,' read ' Letter IV.' 
 
 " 84, 15th 1. f om b. for ' in ' read ' on.' 
 
 " 8S. 9th 1. from t. for ' Geological' read ' Zoological.' 
 
 " 89. 2d, I. from b. for' fail-way ' read ' rail- way ' 
 
 cs 100, last line, erase ' then,' 
 
 " 102, 4th 1. from b. erase parenth. before ' the.' 
 
 " 105, 1st 1. for ' appartenances,' read ' appurtenances.' 
 
 " 117, 1st 1. for « jolity ' read « jollity.' 
 
 " 118, iast 1. erase ' and.' 
 
 " 119, 6th I. from t. for ' also,' read ' and.' 
 
 " 120, 6th 1. from t. for c seeds ' read ' deed.' 
 
 " 128, 7th 1. from t. to ' be ' affix ' lieve.' 
 
 " 132, 11th 1. for ' contemolate,' read ' comtemplate.' 
 
 " 136, 20th 1. from t. insert an ' ' ' after < Israel.' 
 
 " 139, 4th 1. from t. for ' their ' read ' the.' 
 
 " 140, 13th 1. from t. erase' the pay.' 
 
 " 141, 7th 1. from t. erase first ' them.' 
 
 " 142, 15th 1. from t. insert'.' after 'strangers.' 
 
 " 151, 7th 1. from b. before' after' insert ' that.' 
 
 " 153, 4th 1. after 'be' insert 'to me.' 
 
 " " 5th 1. for ' 'an — oases.' read * an oasis.' 
 
 " 154, 11th 1. for 'height,' road 'descent.' 
 
 " 157 1st 1. for 'thoroughly ' read 'in one sense.' 
 
 " 162, 1st 1. for 'and ' read 'we' 
 
 " " 8th I. from b. erase 'to be.' 
 
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