GIFT TO UNIVERSITY OF MASSACHUSETTS LIBRARY from WALTER J. INGRAM ,0^'M45>^ ••1863 DATE DUE HMMS ^^ U 14 UNIVERSITY OF MASSACHUSETTS LIBRARY F 74 L98 N48 ^f i f,w^ ^^^^^/^Jf^^ ^e^cJ~K^e^ ^.QAAx^xx^ry /^ /T^^ DIAGRAM OF THE THIRD PLANTATION. Interestms; localities designated by the figureP: i. Old Burying Ground, page 231. — 2. Old Tunnel Meeting House, page 283. — ^' 3. Anchor Tavern, page 401. — 4. Pirates' Glen, page 410. — 5. Dungeon Rock, page 427. — 6. Pines Point, page 445. The Localities are spokc7i of in the pages referred to. LIN OB. J E T^ E L S THIRD PLANTATION. •' I loue of worthies gone to tell ; their virtues to discuss ; For they that fought life's battels wdl, ensamples are for vs." SECOND EDITION : ENLARGED. BOSTON: D. C. C O LE S W O RTH Y. LYNN: SILAS A. BARTON. 1880. U3RARY u .iVElTiy" F ft: 1 .■ . t i fl Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1879, by James R. Nevvhall, in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. I'REFA.CE. The first edition of this work appeared in 1862, and the author had abundant reason to be satisfied witli the kind manner in which it was received. It has now been " out of print " for some years, and the time seems to have arrived when a new and enlarged edition would not be deemed a literary obtrusion. The original work was embraced in just four hundred pages. To this edition a hundred pages have been added under the title of "THE ANCHOR TAVERN." And this addition is distinguished by a style of type somewhat different from the original pages. A few explanatory passages from the preface of the first edition may properly be introduced here. A leading purpose of this volume is to illustrate, in a somewhat lively way, the character of the People, and the condition of Things, during a most interesting period of our history. Divers remarkable personages and occurrences, strangely overlooked by others, receive due attention. And such wayside reflections are interspersed as it is hoped may, at least here and there, prove good seed sown in good ground. The Actors and Scenes are to a degree local. But we have endeivored to treat them in such a manner that they will, for that very reason, be the more acceptable to the general reader. One is always most interested in a narrative when he can point the finger and say — It was right there that the thing happened. We are aware that the style will appear rather episodical ; and arc also aware that it is a dangerous style to venture upon. But the plan seemed to demand that it should be adopted. Slight circumstances often suggest important schemes. And it is be- coming to acknowledge that a casual remark of the Ancient Bookseller of Nassau street — whose dusty stall and obliging manners so often staid the author's youthful steps, whose judgment of books was so penetrating that he discerned their value by their binding, whose modesty was so intense that he wrote the first person singular with a little i, and who descended from one of the brightest Jewels of the Third Plantation — proved so (iii) IV PJREFACE. influential in inducing the present attempt, that it might, perhaps, be proper even to dedicate the work to him. The author, during several years of his early life, wielded the printer's "stick," and has ever, in after years, while pursuing what is called a "profession," retained agreeable recollections of the printing office, insomuch that he has long kept a font or two of type, in a cozy back room, to which he could resort at a vacant hour for that semi-intellectual entertainment which is so agreeable. A good portion of the volume was never written ; but with memoranda and sketches lying on the " upper case," the author proceeded to compose sentences and types at the same time. And could he be assured that the reader would, in the perusal, find a few of his leisure hours as pleasantly occupied, he would be more than pleased — without, however, overlooking the fact that in this scram- bling world pecuniary recompense is seldom to be disdained. Egg Rock. See Diagram. i:n dex. Adventures and Discoveries, 58, 66. Anchor Tavern, 401 to 495. Anderson, Julia, tragic fate of, 109. Anointing of Obadiuh Turner, 479, A;>parition in Old Tunnel, 3S6. Armitage, Deborah, herb seller, 239. Armitagc, landlord, 40O, 472. Arthur and Haroldine, 131. Assaults. Of David, Indian, on Joel Dunn, 444. Of David on Dr. Read. 472. Mysterious, 352. Of Edward Randolph on Oliver Pur- chis, 172. Autumn foliage, 328. 13. Bachelor, Rev. Mr., first minister, 64. Ballard, Abel, his adventures, 103. Banquet, Old Tunnel dedication, 285. Banquet on fiftieth Anniversary, 464. Bears, 405, 463, 4S3. Bees, attempt at raising, 148. Bonfires, 462, 467. Boudinot, Mr., the Huguenot, 310. Bowlegs (Joel Dunn,) 413. Burial of a suicide, 278. Burial, a premature, 275. Burying Ground, the Old, 231 to 282. C. Celebration of Fiftieth Anniversa- ry, 462 to 495. Celestial phenomena, 67, 79, 88. Characteristics of settlers, 41, 392. Charming, snake, 430. Choir, Old Tunnel, 359, 389. Christmas, prosecution for observ- ing, 82. Cider, 469, 479. Cobbet, Rev. Thomas, 80. Coins, first American, 77. College student, punishment of, 371. Comet, great, 88. Commencement of Plantation, 23. Conrad, the enthusiast, 485. Cora Reddan and her lover, 382. Cow, Mr. Kertland's, 220. Cues. Dr. Read's, 470, 472. Dr. Tyndale'.s, 337. Cure, remarkable, 338. D. Dancing, 294, 485. David Kunkshamooshaw (Indian,) 442 ; at celebration, 467 to 4S0. Davis, jolly John, at celebration, 4S0. Dedication of Old Tunnel Meeting House, 283. Devil, old belief in the, 56, 63, 75, 103, 196. Dexter, Thomas, — biographical sketch of, 187 to 216. Dinners, public, 285, 464. Discoveries and adventures, 58, 66. Dress, extravagant, prohibited, 425. Ducking of Gooddy Baker, 77. Dungeon Rock, 82, 427 to 442. Dunn, Joel, a tramp, 413 to 426 ; his terrible night in the woods, 430 ; his strange death, 452. E. Early settlers, traits of the, 40, 392. Earthquake, effect of, at Dungeon Rock, 82, 438. Eeling expedition, 303. Egg Rock, 103 194. Enthusiast, Conrad, the, 485. Excursions for discovery, 57, 66. E.xplosion of Dr. Tyndale's cue, 337. (V) VI INDEX. Familiar spirit, Mrs. Hawkins's, 460. Farmer's home, in olden time, 144. Fiftieth Anniversary of the first set- tlement, celebration of, 462 to 495. Fifty years, the first, of the Planta- tion, 85, 462. First habitation, erection of, ;^^. First minister, 64. First settlers, character of, 40, 392. Footprints in rocks, 66, 75, 103. Freemen, how made, 115. Funerals, doings at, 80, 279, 490. G. Geese, 320, 384, 483. Ghost in Old Tunnel, 387. Gipsys, 71. Glen, Pirates', 410. Goff, the regicide, in Lynn, 177. Graves, Daniel, and little girl, 387. Guatolf, the apostate Jew, 271. PI. Habitation, first in the Plantation,33. Haroldine and Arthur, 131. Hart, Zachariaii, — biographical sketch of, 19 to 50. Harvard college, punishment in, 371. Hawkins, Jane, an antinomian, 458. Plornets, attack of on Mr. Hart, 26. Huguenots. 308. Humphrey, Nora, her touching sto- ry, indiscretion, and sad fate, 362. Humphrey, Verna, the strange vi- cissitudes of her life, 247 to 270. Hunter, public, chosen, 70. Hutchinson, Mrs., and her teach- ings, 39, 459. I. Indian characteristics, 68, 95, 468. Indian land tenures, 91, 468. Indian pets, 463. Indian summer, 329. Indian, the Old, (tree) 443. Indians at celebration of fiftieth an- niversary, 463, 464, 481, 485. Indians, youthful, 78, 464, 48 1, 485. Introductory remarks, 9, 229, 401. Iron Works, 75. Jenks, Dolly, pleasant story of, 421. Jenks, Joseph, and his wife, 425. Jew, Guatolf, the a]5ostate, 271. Journal of Obadiah Turner, 57 to go. Kektland, Philip, first shoemaker in the Plantation, 217 to 228. Kiss, story of a hasty, 422. Knopp, Nicholas a travelling doctor, 455. He doctors the governor, 456. Kunkshamooshaw, David, (Indian), 442. At celebration, 467 to 480. L. Landlords of the Anchor Tavern, 406 to 409. Land tenures, (Indian,) 91, 468. Lightning, serious effects of, 105, 276, 386, 482. Love unrequited, story of, 362. Lynn, name of, 14, 88. M. Makepeace, John, and his strange sanitary contrivance, 475. Marsh, Joel FJunn's haying on, 417. Marshall, Captain, landlord of the Anchor Tavern, 407. Martin, Josiah, landlord of the An- ch'or Tavern, 408. Mather, Cotton, at Old Tunnel, 3S3. Mechanics' wages regulated, 60. Medical practice in early times, 455. Meeting house. Old Tunnel, 89, 283 to 400. Melrose, Elizabeth, her premature burial, 275. Military parades, 63, 312, 453, 463. Mill established, 61. Money Diggers, 446. Mudget, Deacon, his lesson, 359. Music in Old Tunnel, 3S9. Mysterious assault, 352. Mysterious stranger, 177. N. Nahant, 66, 103, 167, 197. Name of Lynn, 14, 88. INDEX. Vll Newhall, Ephraim, his grave, 278. Nevvhall, Jacob, landlord of the An- chor Tavern, 409. Newhall, origin of the name, 138. Newhall, Thomas — biographical sketch of, 117 to 156. Newhall, Thomas, first white per- son born in the Plantation, 479. Norwood, widow, landlady of the Anchor, 408. Norwood, Zaccheus, landlord of the Anchor, 408. O. Old and new style, 55. Old Burying Ground, 231 to 2S2. Old Indian, (tree) 443. Oldpath, Ezekiel, teacher, 325. Old Tunnel Choir, 359, 389. Old Tunnel Meeting House, 89, 283 to 400. Orthography, old style, 54, 91. Pets, Indian, 463. Pine Tree coins, 77. Pines Point, 445. Pirates, 82, 411, 427, 451. Pirates' Glen, 410. Plantation, the Third, territorial sit- uation and beginning of, 14, 23. Procession, fiftieth anniversary, 463. Pulpit Rock, 105. Pumpkins, David's assault with, 469. PuRCHis, Oliver — biographical sketch of, 157 to 186. Quakers, laws against, 83. R. Ramsdell, Dame, and her interest- ing son, 369. Randolph, Edward, his wrong do- ings and disappointments, 1 59, 1 66. Rattlesnake, (Indian), his cruelty, 81. Read, Dr. Philip, 469 to 472. Reception tomb, scene at, 275. Reddan, Cora, and her lover, 382. Reddan, Francis, his eventful life and touching death, 3 78. Review of fifty years progress, 85. Rhodes, Aaron, his wonderful cure, 336. Rock, Dungeon, 82, 427 to 442. Rock, Egg, 103, 194. Rock, Pulpit, 105. S. Salt marsh, haying on, 417. Salt works, 63. Sanitary apparatus invented by Mr. Makepeace, 475. Saugus River, 195, 303. Scalding of Dr. Read by David, 472. Scalping of Mr. Laighton, 204. Sea-serpent, 68, 195. Serpents. See .Snakes. Sermons of olden time, 373. Settlement, beginning of the, 23. Settlers, traits of the, 41, 392. Shoe trade, 224. Singers in the Old Tunnel, 359 389. Skeletons found, 65. Skunks, 59, 461. Sleepers in meeting, 70, 215. Sleigh ride in summer, 408. Snakes, 3 1, 58, 68, 195, 367, 430, 464. Spelling in early times, 54, 91. Spirit, familiar, Mrs. Hawkins's, 460. Stocks, 70. Storms, 83, 431, 482. Stormy and cold winters, 60, 83. Stranger, mysterious, 177. Style, old and new, 55. Suicide, grave of a, 278. Summer, Indian, 329. Summer sleigh ride, 408. Talisman, David's, 477, 478. Tavern, Anchor, 401 to 495. Tavern scores, old time, 406. Teachers of youth, 31 S, 325, 330, 483. Third Plantation, its territorial loca- tion and commencement, 14, 23. Tomb, reception, scene at the, 275. Tornado, 482. Trainings, military, 63, 312, 453, 463. Tramps, old time, 414. Treason of Joseph Jcnks, 421. Turnbody, Alastcr, 31 8. Turner' Obadiah — biographical sketch and journal, 51 to 116. Vlll INDEX. Turner, Obadiah, At celebration of the fifiieth anniversary, 477. At Old Tunnel dedication din- ner, 291. His grave, 274, Tyndale, Dr. Jotham, 233- V. Vane, Governor, 42 ; his visit, 45. Veal, the pirate, 82, 427 to 441. Verna Humphrey, touching story of, 247. W. Wages of mechanics regulated by the Court, 60. Whiting, Rev. Samuel, 86. At celebration of fiftieth anni- versary, 466. Biographical sketch of, 496. His grave, 270. Wild Geese, 320, 384. Witchcraft, 342 to 359, 470. Wonderful cure, 336. Wood, William, his book, 62. David Kunkshamooshaw and Abigail his wife. Cicely alias .Su George. Mary Ponham alias Quonopohit. James Quono- pohit, husband of Mary, signed his name in full. INDIAN SIGNATURES TO THE DEED OF RELEASE of the Plantation Territory. 1686. See p. 442 ; also p. 468 et seq. 4 F»A.RT I. — — ♦ NOTABLE PEOPLE OF OLDEN TIME. *' Roll back thou mist of the dark brown years ! Unveil the paths our fathers trod ! We will lean upon their mossy tombs And recount their noble deeds ! Then shall our souls be nerved As by the bracing wind of the North." INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. It is the duty of every man, while sojourning in this unsatisfying though rather interesting world, and beating about amid its perplexing and endearing vicis- situdes, to endeavor something for the benefit of his miserable race. And every man intends to perform that duty at some time before his chance comes for escape hence. But how true it is that with most of us, that indefinite " some time " never arrives. Our healthful efforts are postponed till disabilities intervene or the better opportunities cease ; and so we finally wither away, still unfruitful vines. Pro- crastination justl}' bears the evil name of thief. Yet with what sublime resignation men yield to her even in their highest concerns. Some, it is true, who pass A* (9) 10 NOTABLE PEOPLE. through early and middle life in ways unapproved by themselves, and consequently void of real enjoyment, arouse, at the eleventh hour, and do much to retrieve their former delin'^uencjes. But sMch instances are rare, and no more to be depended on than those death- bed repentances which our clerical admonishers so constantly warn us against trusting to. While one man makes a figure in the world after his head has begun to bleach, ten thousand pursue the old unprofitable course. And, reflecting in this wise, the writer, having pen in hand, and not being able to recall any particularly satisfactory achievement of his past life, considered whether something might not be accomplished by making a Book. But then the m^'stic dread produced by that impatient ejaculation of the most patient of men — "Behold, my desire is , . . that mine ad- versary had written a book" — brought him shivering to a stand. PresentI}', however, coming to the con- clusion that if in the attacks to which his temerity might expose him, no more formidable enginery than literary criticism were employed, annihilation, certain- ly, would not be the melancholy result, he bravely determined to proceed. Yet the labor is undertaken with unfeigned diffidence ; for if a vicious sentiment should be promulgated, however unintentionally, the effects of the wrong might be felt long after his power to counter-work had ceased ; though, being void of evil intent, he might reasonably hope to escape the fu- ture punishment denounced by the worthy old Catholic against depraved writers ; namely, that they writhe in purgatory just so long as the mischievous effects of their writings are felt among mankind. A very whole- some adjustment; though one under which that dread abode will not be likely soon to want for population. 4t INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 11 To keep in proper humor with an author, and most effectually secure the good he intends, the reader should, in the very first place, endeavor to bring him- self to a realizing sense of the exact spirit in which the work originated ; to explore the mind of the writer, so to speak, primarily as regards his object, and sec- ondarily as regards his style. A writer is necessitated, much more than a speaker, to rely on the discernment and fairness of those whom he addresses, for he cannot resort to gestures, intonations, and the thousand little arts that a speaker can, to make clear his meaning and adorn his periods. We hope to be dealt justly with. Yea, more than that, generously. Most of us are great sticklers for justice when it falls on heads not our own. But when we ourselves are in danger, mercy is the cry. Men's ideas of justice, too, greatly vary. Few agree as to what it is ; or they award to it an elasticity capable of suiting any purpose. It is quite instructive to the philosophical observer to see how often the claims of pure justice mongers are based on the most arrant selfishness. What, indeed, would become of the best of us, if strict justice were meted out? We be- speak, then, the generous consideration of the reader. Some authors write to magnify themselves, and some to promote other selfish ends. Others write to in- struct, and others to amuse. Hence the importance of the suggestion just made, that it be a first object to search the mind of the writer whose book is in hand. True, the search may sometimes lead into crooked ways and among mists. And the reader may possibly come from the exploration without finding any purpose at all. But such instances will be rare. Every book has some object, or it is not worthy of the dignity of being burnt by the hangman. As to the present vol- 12 KOTABLE PEOPLE. ume, vre trust there will be no necessity for complaint in this respect. It would be a matter of unbounded regret and mortification with the writer, should any reader deem the time occupied in perusing his produc- tion misspent ; so much so, indeed, as to move him to endeavor some amends. But what amends? Pecu- niary? People usually look that way first. And hence he might offer to acquit himself accordingly. But as no one would expect such unheard of generosity to extend beyond the profits of the work, and the profits depending on its merits, there might be some doubt as to the value of the offer. We are to deal chiefly with scenes and characters of past time. And oftentimes more good maybe derived from the contemplation of what pertains to former days, than from what relates to the present, though the latter may in itself possess the greater merit. "What- ever withdraws us from the power of our senses,'* says the sturdy old moralist, " whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future, predominate over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings. That man is little to be envied whose patriotism would not gain force on the plains of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of Ion." And by parity of reasoning we are forward to ask who can fail to be benefitted by considering the pregnant scenes and noble characters of New Eng- land's early days ? Who would not receive inspiration from viewing the giant needle on Bunker Hill, the Pil- grim monument at Plymouth, when built, or even from wandering among our quaint old tomb stones? In old Plj-mouth colony there commences a range of hills, varying in height, but never reaching an alti- INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 13 tude rendering them eligible to the title of mountains, that extends eastward some sixty or seventy miles. These hills present great irregularities in shape, and diversity in soil and geological construction. They follow the line of the coast at distances varying from half a mile to six miles from the shore, and in many places bear strong evidence of once having been the boundary of the tide. Anciently they were well wooded ; but as population extended, the axe in many places laid them bare to the genial influence of the sun, and orchards, gardens and arable fields took the place of the old vestments. And now, at intervals, the chain seems much broken, as most portions, likely for the present to repay the expense, have been reclaimed. Some sections, which nature left in the most wild and untamable condition, still appear in the primeval aspect. In the vicinity of Quincy these hills present immense ledges of beautiful and durable granite, which afford an inexhaustible field for remunerative labor. Farther east tower stupendous cliffs of porphyry. The range sweeps up from Plymouth, through Norfolk and Mid- dlesex, and terminates in Essex, near the Merrimack. Should one take a view from the cupola of the State House at Boston, or from the top of Bunker Hill Mon- ument, he might trace for many miles the undulating course of this interesting cliain. At intervals, along the whole line, are detached transverse sections, great- er or less in extent, giving diversity to the landscape, and furnishing romantic nestling places for numerous little settlements. A principal spur traverses the whole length of Cape Ann, terminating at Rockport^ where the billows of the Atlantic eternally beat against its granite butress. 14 NOTABLE PEOPLE. The territory from the hills to the sea is in somo places almost a perfect plain for miles in extent; in other places it is broken and abrupt. Some of the largest and most thrifty settlements of New England adorn and make busy this tract. Indeed, Boston itself is within the limit, as well as Roxbury, Cambridge, Charlestown, Lynn and Salem. Here and in the adja- cent hill country were the first explorations of the pil- grim fathers; and here were many of the first English settlements. It was in ihe rear of Boston, that the apos- tle Eliot commenced his pious labors, perseveringly, through winter's cold and summer's heat, pursuing his intiepid course, achieving such noble conquests and gaining such enduring renown. In this vicinity, too, some of the most stirring of the opening scenes of the Revolution took place. And on those bright mornings of April and June, when our Pine Tree Flag unfurled at Lexington and Bunker Hill, the whole region re- sounded with the tramp of gathering patriots. All along this vast range of hills are disclosed such magnificent marine and landscape views as it is be- lieved are equalled nowhere else on the Atlantic coast. The Third Plantation occupied a central portion of this charming coast terriiui-y, and was parent of the renowned City of Lynn, or '• Lin," as it is spelled in the act bestowing the name ;• a place known and respected wherever shoes are v/oi'n and bay fish eaten. Several other ambitious towns are honored by the same parent- age ; but Lynn seems always to have ranked as the most eminent of the beautiful off'spring of that memo- rable settlement; and hence the whole Plantation is occasionally distinguished by her euphonious name. It was in 1629 that the good old Third Plantation was INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 15 commenced. And it is our purpose to follow these introductorj remarks by some biographical sketches of the sturdy old settlors, they being eminently types of the times — interspersed by allusions and details of various complexion. There is no kind of general reading more profitabla than well digested biography. Every person possesses an instinctive propensity to imitate the actions of others ; and it is on this account that evil communicar tions corrupt. But it is also true that a channel is thus afforded through which the most beneficial results may flow. In reading the hfe of a great or good man, where the traits which led to his greatness or good- ness are clearly and judiciously delineated, the most healtliful inspiration is imparted. " Plutarch's Lives " have probably moulded more great characters than any other collection extant, save the sacred writings. ■. And how often do we find them spoken of by leading spirits of departed centuries, as well as those of modern times, as having furnished the models by which they endeavored to shape themselves. They have imparted energy to the regal arm; incor- ruptibility to the dauntless breast; inspiration to the patriot heart. Some of the loftiest principles of juris- prudence are in them developed, some of the noblest conceptions of genuine liberty enforced, some of the most exalted characteristics of true manhood pre- sented. They were the companions of Alfred, of Eliz- abeth, of Shakspeare, of Cromwell, of Chatham, of Franklin and Bonaparte ; yes, and of some of the stout-hearted wilderness battlers of whom we are pres- ently to speak. The history of every community may furnish char- acters for the skilful biographer to delineate with ap- 16 NOTABLE PEOPLE. plaiise and profit. And such local biographies may perhaps in many instances prove most useful, because the circumstances and interests of the principals and those who should be the imitators are so nearly iden- tical as to afibrd a more steady and comprehensible light. But we approach our task with diffidence, consider- ing how many biographers prove themselves unfit for the labors they undertake. The dispositions of some lead them to indiscriminately laud, of others to indis- criminately calumniate. Few have power to analyze character without bias, and perhaps fewer still the dis- position. Yet, the biographer who conceals all the faults of his subject because he discovers much to applaud, or all his virtues because he discovers much to condemn, betrays his trust most sadly. And then again, many rampant authors have their own innate prejudices, whims and fancies to be pi'ovided for. And these are at times not a little troublesome. Little indeed do readers know of the throes of authors — of the ideas that spring up, kicking and ranting among the brains like unbroken colts, too ill-conditioned to prance before the critical and exacting world, and yet so impatient of restraint. If they knew they might pity and forgive. And many readers fail properly to appreciate the labors of an author in a work like the one now in hand, from entertaining divers wrong notions touching the quality cf the information. Some suspect if they happen to come across anything of which they have not before heard, that it must be false ; forgetting that there may be some truths in the world with which they have never become acquainted — that many im- portant historical facts have for ages slept in private DfTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 17 records : where, having escaped the search of the an- tiquarian plodder, they have finally been stumbled upon, as it were, by the mere excursionist in history. It has been remarked that much of the truth of his- tory is stranger than fiction. It certainly is. And hence, worthy reader, we trust you will not question any of our statements because they detail strange or even absurd transactions. That would be to suppose men never do strange or absurd things. The moment that a relation should enter the territory of the impos- sible, however, it is right to reject it. And we are free to admit that errors will sometimes creep into the most dignified and solemn histories. Even the intelli- gent and conscientious Prescott, it has been discovered, was led to adopt many fictions for truth. It is not possible always to avoid this. And all that the best can safely promise, is to be faithful in the endeavor not to mislead. An untruth, when it appears upon the page of a book, may be the instrument of much greater mischief than it could have occasioned as a mere spoken word ; because in the "book it is more enduring, more widely circulated, and comes before the world in more pre- tentious guise. Of this we are aware, and wish that every author would take due cognizance. Occasion- ally, it is true, an innocent fiction may prove an excel- lent illustration. In the Bible itself we sometimes find great truths illustrated by parable. And in this view a historical writer may take a little comfort ; for while he cannot always know the truth of his statements, he can know their aptness to produce the desired im- pression. The annds of that favored region which was the scene of much that we shall relate, are rife with bril- 2 18 NOTABLE PEOPLE. liant characters which we are persuaded would, if faithfully exhibited, not only shed lustre upon her name, but exercise an influence powerful and good. Yet it is not our iutention to undertake anything like extended biographies. All we propose ic, to attempt a few sketches of certain early settlers — rather the bringing of them out as lights to show the condition of things during the interesting and eventful times when it pleased their Maker to direct their sojourn here. And the first of the ancient gentry with whom it is proposed to step upon the stage is Zachariah Hart, to whose name may be found on the records the prefix of Mister. The pseudo-aristocracy of the col- ony were very particular about titular distinctions. The simple appellation of Goodman was generally awarded to such as had not taken the freeman's oath, and the more dignified one of Mister to such as had. The rule, however, was not invariable. Of 'other titles something may be said hereafter. 3 X?\4^4'Afe^'^^ Primitive IIauitation. ZA.CHi^RIA.H Hi^HT. " With brawnie arme and dauntless hearte, he strode in godlie pryde ; Nor ghosts, wolves, Indians, Devill's art, could turne his steps asyde." Mr. Hart was born in an ancient cathedral town, near the Scottish border, somewhere in the hitherward verge of the sixteenth century ; it is believed in the year 1594. And as he had little or no religious train- ing, he was liable, as he grew up, to be swayed by com- paratively slight circumstances. He became a rigid puritan. And his principles were fixed, probabl}', by the fact that the hair of his head was of a rusty 3'ellow, grew rather in tufts than broadcast, and was almost as stiff as the bristles on a swine's back. It is well known that the good churchmen were careful in the dressing of their hair, taking much pride in the graceful curl and shining lock, while the dissen- ters dissented as strongly from all such vanities as from the grievous superstitions, as they deemed them, perpetuated by any of the fondly cherished ceremonials of the establishment. Slighter circumstances than swayed Mr. Hart in his choice of a religion, have swayed others in all ages. He probably had a sort of underground apprehension that there was a natural impediment to his becoming a good, or at least a shining, churchman, and so the (19) 20 NOTABLE PEOPLE. other party at once had his sympathies. And by the time he had attained one score and ten years, his prin- ciples were as well defined and stiff as the tufts that adorned his head. Of the common frailties of human nature he possessed a competence. But he also had conspicuous virtues. And in this brief sketch we shall probably be able to show that he was one of the most useful and meritorious of the little band who made the first christian lodgment on this heathen territory. It is not worth while to spend time in details re- specting the early life of our Subject, for that was passed much as the early lives of others. He was sent to a decent school, and now punished and now re- warded, as his merits determined or the caprice of his teacher dictated. And he left the school, improved by his instruction and discipline. One thing, however, ought to be mentioned. While at school he lodged in an upper room, just beneath the window of which an outbuilding was reared. And over the roof of that architectural adjunct hung the unsuspicious branches of a fruit tree belonging to a neighbor. . Zachariah had not occupied the room long before the ripening fruit attracted a glance that he had to spare from his book. And that glance was the occa- sion of some reflection after his head was laid upon the pillow. In short, the luscious fruit was a temptation that could not be winked down ; and he began to lay plans for the possession of a share. His plans and the fruit were ripe at about the same time. So by the lio-ht of the moon he lowered himself from his window, stole along the ridge-pole, and then commenced a slide towards the eaves. Unfortunately a shower had ren- dered the roofing exceedingly slippery, and do what ZACHARIAH HART. 21 lie could it was impossible for biin to arrest bis pro- gress downward. As he gracefully sailed by the golden fruit that lay within reach, he cast upon it that mingled look of shame, contempt and contrition wherewith one is apt to view a tempter in whose snare he is fairly caught, and who looks impudently 'up, laughing at his calamity. After an interesting exploration among the branches of the tree, he landed upon a bed of rocks, and was presently found and taken up very much frightened and somewhat weakened by the loss of blood. There was a terrible wound on his forehead, but no bones were broken ; and he was soon able again to take his place in the school. In after life he derived considerable benefit from this adventure. After the healing of the wound a frightful scar was fortunately left. And this proved of much service to him, not only in a moral way, by reminding him how unex4)ectedly dangers may spring up in the path of the evil doer, but otherwise, by furnishing a mark that might indicate the performance of some perilous duty. And he was not backward in availing himself of the advantages of the providential bestowment. At one time it answered for a wound received in the Dutch war; at another, for one received in defending a forti- fication against the French. And it made him a hero here in New England, as being a badge gained in a desperate conflict with Indians soon after he landed. We are astonished that one in those days of simplicity should predicate such diverse theories on a single fact; though we should not wonder at any thing of the kind in these days ; for men are now so given to lying that when one undertakes to tell the truth he becomes an object of suspicion, and people wonder what on earth 22 NOTABLE PEOPLE. W his purpose can be, especially where no selfish end is apparent. Among the manifold excuses that have been urged for Mr. Hart is the one that his false statements were made under a loss of self-possession ; that is, we sup- pose, being suddenly asked the occasion of his scar, and unwilling to name the true caus6, he would, in confused haste, attribute it to this or that imaginary agency. That people do sometimes sin under a loss of self- possession is no doubt true. But no instance of any sin excepting that of profanity committed under such circumstances, at this moment occurs to us. We are told of a certain minister once living in this region, who would sometimes, under sudden excitement or alarm, swear in a way that would have done dirty honor to the army in Flanders, but who, when the gale had passed, had no sort of recollection of his guilty utterances. And when the matter was pressed home upon him he would seek to change the issue and refer to tlie ex- ample of St. Peter, declaring that on the memorable occasion of his denying his Master, the swearing was added through inadvertence. We certainly think Peter's denial was bad enough without his vulgar ad- dition, but do not learn that he ever sought to excuse himself on this singular ground. Still, there was inge- nuity in the minister's position. Mr. Hart's case is a little strengthened, too, by a statement in the journal of Obadiah Turner, which work will be more fully brought into notice hereafter. On the whole, anomalous as it may seem in one generally 80 steady and brave, there really is reason to apprehend that Mr. Hart did occasionally lose his self-possession to a degree that left him to do things of which he ZACHARIAH HART. 23 might well have been ashamed. In Mr. Turner's jour- nal we find this statement: ''Zachariah Harte was wth y® firste companie y* came to Lin. lie worked wth greate brauerie in putting vp y^ firste habitation. And there being no minister wth them, he did make a lustie praier at y*^ laying of y^ cor- ner stone well for y" time was a stoute oake blocke. I'hey do discourse mch of hjs skill and handiework and of hjs godlie exhortations on y** ocacion. But jt hath been given oute y' he did use manie prophane words mcli to y*^ scandall of those aboute. And vpon hjs being reprimanded therefor he did stoutlie denie y^ same ; whereat they greatlie wondered, there being so manie witnesses. But he further sayd y* if jt so seemed to them, he could say y* jt was onlie a wrong working of y** tongue, there being no euil speech in hjs liearte. But I thinke this strange talke." Mr. Hart joined the pilgrims at Leyden and remained with them there a few years. Having thus cast his lot with the refugees, he scorned to desert them ; and when they, as perils thickened, fled to these shores, with undaunted heart followed. In what particular ves- sel he came over, it does not appear. But we find him at Lynn, with the very first detachment of settlers. It was a warm day in the early part of June, 1629, when tlie little band pitched their tent among the trees that overshadowed the beautiful plain stretching from the hills to the sea, and immediately set about erecting a habitation. In speaking of this "goodlie companie," some histo- rians have omitted to mention that Mr. Hart was one of them. But such a slight cannot extinguish him. He did more labor, sweat more, ate and drank more, and according to Mr. Turner, swore more on that 24 NOTABLE PEOPLE. eventful day, than any other individual present. But they all Avoiked with the industry of bees and beavers and were right glad when evening drew on. It should be borne in mind that on this great occa- sion there were several present who did not come with the intention of remaining. They were from Salem, it is presumed, and came by special appointment or invitation, to assist by their advice and skill in laying the corner stone, as it were, of the new settlement. Among these, as will afterwards appear, was the famous Roger Conant. The Captain of the day himself, was also one of these temporary sojourners. Now those historians who do not mention these, and what the number of them was is not readily ascertained, as among the first settlers, do right, for they were not settlers in a. proper sense. Some appear to have remained a con- siderable time, and some to have left immediately. And furthermore, some who are reckoned as first set- tlers do not seem to have been here for the first few months. Indeed it was something like the signing of the declaration of independence ; though purporting to have been begun and completed on the fourth of July, the fact is that many if not most of the signatures were affixed at different times subsequent to that date. The purpose of these remarks is to remind the reader that though there may be apparent conflicts between ourselves and others who have written on the subject, yet all may be right. We have no thought of being captious, making charges of ignorance, or casting re- flections. As the glorious sun sank behind the tall pines that thrcAV their dense shade upon the little clearing that had been made, those sturdy pioneers looked with sat- isfaction upon the habitation they had erected. It was ZACHAEIAH HART. 26 sufEcient for temporary shelter, though not comely to the eye. Oii that day, for the first time, had the pri- mary sounds of civilization, the noise of the saw, the axe and the hammer, been heard in these solitudes. But these sounds were now hushed. The workmen had gathered together the tools with which they had been toiling, and washed in a neighbor- ing rivulet. The little girl and her boy companion had returned from their rambles, with muddy feet and stain- ed lips. And the whole company were gathered near, the habitation in preparation for their evening meal. The venerable leader of the band was seated upon a stately oaken stump. The refreshing breeze played on his manly brow and swayed his white locks. The mild lustre of his hazel eye, told of the undisturbed spirit within. Time had plowed deep furrows along his dingy cheeks, and having harrowed rather unskilfully, little ridges of warts were left, much resembling such as are sometimes seen upon the hard shell gourd. He sat in silence, evidently contemplating the results that might flow from that day of small things. And had he been permitted to extend his vision along the vista of years to this our day, how glorious must have appeared to him the end of that vista, though some dark spots intervened. But the meditations of the worthy leader were sud- denly interrupted by a little occurrence which will be best related iu the words of the old writer to whom we are chiefly indebted for our account of the transactions of that important day : '< Y® godlie and prudent Captain of y® ocacion did for a time sit on y"^ stumpe in pleasante moode. And y^ others did stroUe abovte as best sujted themselues their worke being done, save one or two who must B 26 NOTABLE PEOPLE. needs always be at work at something. Presentlie all were hurried together in greate alarruni to witness y'' strainge doing of y** goode olde man. Vtteriug a lu-stie screame he bounded from y*' stumpe, and they ct)ming vpp did discry him jumping aboute in y*' oddest manner, snapping lijs fingers and throwing hjs arms arounde in such wise as to make all greatlie feare y* he had been seized wth some sudden and direfuU distrac- tion, and would doe harme to all y* got within hjs reache. And he did likewise puff and blow Avth hjs mouthe and roll vpp hjs eyes in y" most distressful! way. " All were greatlie moved and did loudlie beg of hjm to advertise them whereof he was afflicted in so sore a manner. And presentlie he pointing to hjs forehead, they did spy tliere a small red spot, and swelHng. Then did they begin to thinke y' what had happened vnto him was this, y* some pestigious scorpion or fly- ing dcvill had bitten him, and y'' he was crying oute in agonie of paine. Goodwife Norlan did seize a hand- full of wett moss, and running vpp hold y® same vpon y® wounde, and y' did mch abate y® paine. Then said he, y* as he sat on y^ stumpe he did spy vpon y'' branche of a tree y*^ stoode neare by, what to hjm seemed a large fruite, y'' like of wch he had never before seen, being mch in size and shape like y^ heade of a man, and hauing a grey rinde wch, as he deemed, betokened ripeness. There being so manie new and luscious fruits from time to time discovered in this faire land, none could know y" whole of them, and jt might be y' a fruit of y® coccownut kinde might grow hereabout. And he said hjs eyes did mch rejoice at y" sight. " Seizing a stone wch lay neare, he hurled y® same thereat, thinking to bring jt to y^ ground, and thereby s%- ZACHARIAH HART. 27 procure a daintie for y'' svpper table. But nut taking faire aime, lie onlie hit j'' branch whereon hung y^ fruit. Y'' jarr was not enow to shake down y® same, bvt there issued from jt as from a nest, seeminglie in great rage, diverse little winged scorpions mch in size like y"^ large fenn flies on y" marish lands of olde Englande, bvt hav- ing more of a yellow color. And one of them bound- ing againste hjs forehead, did in an instant, as he declared, giue a moste terrible sting, whereof came y^ horrible paine and agonie at wch he so cried out." What the company then did about tlie newly discov- ered hornet's nest, as such it seems to have been — whether their curiosity overcame their prudence and they pelted it to pieces, suffering the penalty which the outraged insects knew so- well how to inflict, or whether their fears overcame their curiosity and they let it alone — we are not inforrfied. The interruption was not of long continuance, and things were soon progressing as quietly as before. There is our worthy friend Zachariaji Hai-t, busy again with his axe, chopping up fuel for the morrow's use. He is always at work and seemingl}^ never tired. His short sword dangles with a sort of good natured defi- ance at his side. And having thrown by his slouched hat, the brassy light and swaying shadows fill upon his bristly locks giving them a picturesque tinge of yellow green. And there, with his sinewy arms bared to the task of assisting in the preparation of the evening meal, is the renowned Roger Con