Such then is a brief sketch of a remarkable Bostonian. The poor boy who landed in Boston a little over a half century ago has become its Chief Magistrate. Boston has honored him. He has shown, and is still showing, his appreciation of the high honor. Slowly, but surely, this modest gentleman has won his way to the front in the popular estimation of his fellow-citizens. A man who tries constantly to do right for the love of doing right, he has become more distinguished than many so-called brilliant men who, meteor-like, flash before people's eyes once, and are heard of no more. There is a solidity about all his public acts which command attention and elicit approbation. It is too early to write the full history of Mayor O'Brien, because he is rapidly making history; but Boston's history thus far does not record when the city has had a more efficient or more honest Mayor than the present Chief Magistrate.

* * * * *



HELEN HUNT JACKSON.

The news of the death of Mrs. Helen Jackson—better known as "H.H."—will probably carry a pang of regret into more American homes than similar intelligence in regard to any other woman, with the possible exception of Mrs. H.B. Stowe, who belongs to an earlier literary generation.

Helen Maria (Fiske) Jackson was the daughter of Prof. Nathan W. Fiske, of Amherst College, whose "Manual of Classical Literature," based on that of Eschenberg, was long in use in our colleges, and who wrote several other books. She was born in Amherst, Mass., October 18, 1831; her mother's maiden name being Vinal. The daughter was educated in part at Ipswich (Mass.) Female Seminary, and in part at the school of the Rev. J.S.C. Abbott in New York city. She was married to Captain (afterward Major) Edward B. Hunt, an eminent engineer officer of the United States Army. Major Hunt was a man of scientific attainments quite unusual in his profession, was a member of various learned societies, and for some time an assistant professor at West Point. He contributed to one of the early volumes of the Atlantic Monthly (xii, 794) a paper on "Military Bridges." His wife resided with him at various military stations—West Point, Washington, Newport, R.I., etc.—and they had several children, all of whom died very young except one boy, Rennie, who lived to the age of eight or ten, showing extraordinary promise. His death and that of Major Hunt—who was killed in 1863 by the discharge of suffocating vapors from a submarine battery of his own invention—left Mrs. Hunt alone in the world, and she removed her residence a year or two after to Newport, R.I., where the second period of her life began.

Up to this time she had given absolutely no signs of literary talent. She had been absorbed in her duties as wife and mother, and had been fond of society, in which she was always welcome because of her vivacity, wit, and ready sympathy. In Newport she found herself, from various causes, under strong literary influences, appealing to tastes that developed rapidly in herself. She soon began to publish poems, one of the first of which, if not the first—a translation from Victor Hugo—appeared in the Nation. Others of her poems, perhaps her best—including the sonnets "Burnt Ships" and "Ariadne's Farewell"—appeared also in the Nation. Not long after, she began to print short papers on domestic subjects in the Independent and elsewhere, and soon found herself thoroughly embarked in a literary career. Her first poem in the Atlantic Monthly appeared in February, 1869; and her volume of "Verses" was printed at her own expense in 1870, being reprinted with some enlargement in 1871. and again, almost doubled in size, in 1874. Her "Bits of Travel" (1872) was made up of sketches of a tour in Europe in 1868-9; a portion of these, called "Encyclicals of a Traveller," having been originally written as circular letters to her many friends and then printed—rather against her judgment, but at the urgent request of Mr. J.T. Fields—almost precisely as they were written. Upon this followed "Bits of Talk About Home Matters" (1873), "Bits of Talk for Young Folks" (1876), and "Bits of Travel at Home" (1878). These, with a little poem called "The Story of Boon," constituted, for some time, all her acknowledged volumes; but it is now no secret that she wrote two of the most successful novels of the No Name series—"Mercy Philbrick's Choice" (1876) and "Hetty's Strange History" (1877). We do not propose here to enter into the vexed question of the authorship of the "Saxe Holme" stories, which appeared in the early volumes of Scribner's Monthly, and were published in two volumes (1873, 1878). The secret was certainly very well kept, and in spite of her denials, they were very often attributed to her by readers and critics.

Her residence in Newport as a busy and successful literary woman thus formed a distinct period of her life, quite apart from the epoch which preceded it and from the later one which followed. A change soon came. Her health was never very strong, and she was liable to severe attacks of diphtheria, to relieve which she tried the climate of Colorado. She finally took up her residence there, and was married about 1876, to William S. Jackson, a merchant of Colorado Springs. She had always had the greatest love for travel and exploration, and found unbounded field for this in her new life, driving many miles a day over precipitous roads, and thinking little of crossing the continent by rail from the Atlantic to the Pacific. In the course of these journeys she became profoundly interested in the wrongs of the Indians, and for the rest of her life all literary interests and ambitions were utterly subordinated to this. During a winter of hard work at the Astor Library in New York she prepared her "Century of Dishonor" (1881). As one result of this book she was appointed by the United States Government as one of two commissioners (Abbot Kinney being the other) to examine and report upon "the condition and needs of the Mission Indians of California." Their report, to which Mrs. Jackson's name is first signed, is dated at Colorado Springs, July 13, 1883, and is a thoroughly business-like document of thirty-five pages. A new edition of "A Century of Dishonor" containing this report is just ready by her publishers, Messrs Roberts Brothers.

As another fruit of this philanthropic interest, she wrote, during another winter in this city, her novel, "Ramona," a book composed with the greatest rapidity, and printed first in the Christian Union, afterward appearing in a volume in 1884. Its sole object was further to delineate the wrongs of the aborigines. Besides these two books, she wrote, during this later period, some children's stories, "Nelly's Silver Mine, a Story of Colorado Life" (1878), and three little volumes of tales about cats. But her life-work, as she viewed it at the end, was in her two books in behalf of the Indians.

* * * * *



HINGHAM.

By Francis H. Lincoln.



The impression left upon the mind of the traveller who has seen Hingham only from the railroad train would be one of backyards, a mill-pond, and woods; but to him who approaches it towards the close of a pleasant June day by steamboat, when the tide is in, there is spread out a lovely view. As the boat comes near the landing-place, islands and green hills, beautiful trees and fields, form a complete circle around him. The picture is one he will not forget. This pleasant impression will grow stronger if he drives by almost any of the streets leading from the harbor, for about five miles, to the southern limit of the town. Should he take the main street he will be charmed by the wealth of stately elms and other shade-trees, which in many places form a complete arch over his head, and by the neat dwellings, for the most part of modest pretensions, some old and some new, almost every one with well-kept grounds all betokening thrift and suggesting a well-to-do community. Nor need he confine himself to the main street. Several of the thickly settled villages spread out into equally attractive side streets. Here and there a church, a school-house, or a public building adds to the general tidy look of the place. Numerous pleasant wood roads, with a few fresh water ponds and streams, make up a variety of scenery which is certainly equal to any New England town.



"Do you have any poor here?" was once asked by a visitor. "I see no evidence of anything but plenty, and yet you do not seem to have any specially leading industries. Whence comes this prosperity?" Whence, indeed? The history of the settlement and growth of Hingham differs little from many another town in eastern Massachusetts. Founded by the Puritans, it is the same story of hardship, patient, persistent toil, prudent economy, encouragement of education and morality, which has been told over and over again, and which has demonstrated the sure foundation upon which true civilization rests.

Hingham lies on the south shore of Massachusetts Bay, on the line of the Old Colony Railroad, 17 miles from Boston by railroad and about 13 by water. Its area is a little less than 13,000 square acres, and its population in 1880 was 4,485. Its valuation in 1884 was $3,245,661, and the number of dwelling-houses was 1,044. Its original limits included the present town of Cohasset, which was set off and incorporated April 26, 1770. Until March 26, 1793, Hingham was a part of Suffolk county, when it was annexed to the County of Norfolk, and June 20, 1793, it again became a part of the County of Suffolk. June 18, 1803, it was annexed to the County of Plymouth, of which it has since formed a part.



The original name of the settlement was Bare (or Bear) Cove. The name was changed to Hingham, and the town incorporated Sept. 3, 1635, on the same day with Weymouth and Concord. There are but eleven towns in the State older than these three. Settlements having dates earlier than the incorporation were made in many towns, and there is proof that there were inhabitants here in 1633. There was a recognition of the place as a sort of municipality in 1634, for Bare Cove was assessed in that year. Rev. Peter Hobart, of Hingham, England, the first minister, arrived at Charlestown in June, 1635, and soon after settled in this town where many of his friends from Hingham, England, had already settled, from which fact the name of their old home was given to the new. Mr. Hobart and twenty-nine others drew for house-lots on the 18th of September, 1635. Grants of land were made at various times during the year 1635, and for several succeeding years. Hence it will be seen that, in this present year, two hundred and fifty years of the town's history will have been completed, and the anniversary will be celebrated during the present month of September.

The close proximity of Hingham to Hull, of which the original name was Nantasket or Nantascot, well known during recent years as a famous summer resort, lends an added interest to one of the earliest of Hingham's controversies. We find a record in July, 1643:—

There is chosen by the town, Joseph Peck, Bozoan Allen, Anthony Eames, and Joshua Hubbard, to go to the next Court to make the best improvement of the evidence the town have for the property of Nantascot, and to answer the suit that now depends, &c.

But this attempt of the inhabitants of Hingham to claim a title was summarily disposed of by the General Court, in September, 1643, as follows:—

The former grant to Nantascot was again voted and confirmed, and Hingham was willed to forbear troubling the Court any more about Nantascot.

Under the lead of such a man as Rev. Peter Hobart, who appears to have been fearless and courageous, the inhabitants could not long remain at rest. In 1645, and through several succeeding years, there were difficulties of a very pronounced character between the inhabitants and the colonial magistrates, especially between Peter Hobart and Gov. Winthrop. The story has been briefly told as follows:—

The town of Hingham had chosen a certain man to be the captain of its military company, and had sent his name to the magistrates for approval. Before action had been taken upon the name the town reconsidered its action, and chose another man to be captain, and sent in his name. The magistrates were strongly inclined to confirm and appoint the first and to reject the second. Winthrop was especially pronounced and for his conduct in the affair Hobart impeached him before the General Court for maladministration in office. The contest was long and bitter. Winthrop was acquitted and exonerated; Hobart was censured, and, with many other inhabitants of Hingham, heavily fined. The town was thoroughly aroused, supported Hobart to the utmost, and paid his fine.... Winthrop and Hobart were the representatives of the two parties into which the colony was forming—the more conservative and the more radical. The extreme radicals scented in the measures and conduct of the magistrates, tyranny; and the conservatives deprecated the views of the radicals as leading to unrestrained action and lawlessness. Winthrop was a conservative; Hobart was a radical. He said he did not know for what he was fined, unless it was for presuming to petition the General Court, and that fine was a violation of the right of petition.

Mr. Hobart was characterized "as a bold man, who would speak his mind."

The story of the contest with the authorities is long and tedious, and it would not serve the purpose of this article to relate it fully, but we can see in the brief statement above that, whether the minister and his people were right or wrong, they had in them that energy, pluck, and persistency which men who would establish strong foundations of society and municipal prosperity must have.

Many interesting events in the early history of the town must be passed over. The complete history is being prepared under the authority of the town, and he who has curiosity concerning it will, ere long, have an opportunity to gratify it. Suffice it to say that the town suffered, in common with all the early settlements, from the Indians, though not extraordinarily; the usual precautions were taken to prevent assaults, and considerable attention was paid to the maintenance of the military. The whole civil history of the town has been one of steady prosperity, of rather slow growth in population.

The first church in Hingham was formed in 1635, on the settlement of the town, with Rev. Peter Hobart as its first minister.

The first house for public worship was erected by the first settlers of the town, probably within a short time after its settlement in 1635. It was surrounded by a palisado, and surmounted by a belfry with a bell, and was undoubtedly a plain structure, so far as the scanty records give any light upon it. It stood upon a hill, in front of the present site of the Derby Academy, in the centre of what is now Main street. But the chief curiosity of Hingham to-day is the second meeting-house, known as the "Old Meeting-house." It is believed that no house for public worship exists within the limits of the United States, which continues to be used for the purpose for which it was erected, and remaining on the same site where it was built, which is so old as this. It is said that timbers from the first were used in the construction of the present house. The brass tablet on its wall states:—

"This Church was gathered in 1635. The frame of this Meeting-house was raised on the twenty-sixth, twenty-seventh, and twenty-eighth days of July, 1681, and the house was completed and opened for public worship on the eighth of January, 1681-2. It cost the town L430 and the old house."

In 1881 there were elaborate commemorative services on the occasion of the 200th anniversary of the building of the meeting-house.

The history of this parish has been remarkable for the long terms of service of its ministers. During the two hundred and fifty years of its existence it has had but eight ministers, of whom the eighth and the present one is the Rev. H. Price Collier. The denomination is Unitarian. Originally a Puritan church, it was liberalized under the sixty-nine years' ministry of Rev. Ebenezer Gay, D.D., extending from 1718 to 1787. Of this able divine many interesting anecdotes are told. He was a powerful leader of religious thought, who "sounded almost the first evangel of that more liberal faith which found its highest expression in Channing, and its fruit in the absolute religious freedom of to-day. Well may the Commonwealth cherish this church in high and in sacred esteem, which, through two such men as Peter Hobart and Ebenezer Gay, has put, in the spirit of the highest independence, its mark upon the tablets of civil liberty and of religious thought."

The second parish (Unitarian) at South Hingham was set off March 25, 1745. Its first minister was Rev. Daniel Shute, D.D., a man of great ability and practical sense, who was an earnest advocate of his country's cause during the revolutionary war. He was a member of the convention which formed the constitution of Massachusetts, and of that which adopted the constitution of the United States.

The Third Congregational Society (Unitarian) was organized in 1807. There is also within the town a religious society of each of the following denominations, viz.: Evangelical Congregational, Baptist, Methodist Episcopal, Universalist, Protestant Episcopal, Second Advent, and Roman Catholic. It would seem as if there need be no hungering for the "bread of life."

The military record of Hingham is worthy of notice.

In Philip's war, in 1675, it appears that "souldiers were impressed into the country service," and provision was made by the selectmen for their expenses.

In 1690 "Capt. Thomas Andrews and soldiers met on board ship to go to Canada" in the expedition under command of Sir William Phips. Capt. Andrews and most of the soldiers belonging to Hingham died in the expedition.

In the French and Indian wars many Hingham citizens enlisted, and Capt. Joshua Barker was in the expedition to the West Indies in 1740, and in the wars of later years.

In the war of the Revolution there was no lack of patriotism in Hingham, "The records indicate that nowhere did patriotism put forth in a greater degree the fulness of its efforts and the energy of its whole soul and spirit."

The limits of this article will not permit an extended notice of all the acts which make up the creditable and patriotic record of the town. Descended from those, who, through hardship and toil, labored for the common good, and bore each other's burdens, it is naturally to be expected that the people of Hingham aided the cause of freedom and the liberties of their country by resolutions and votes, and by liberal supplies of money. Nor did they hesitate to take up arms and sacrifice their lives for their country's good. From the beginning to the end of the Revolution, in many a hard-fought battle, in the sufferings and hardships of camp and march, from the struggle on Breed's Hill to the brilliant affair of Yorktown, we find the names of Hingham men mentioned with honor. And how could it be otherwise? If heredity tells for anything the whole history of the early struggles of the infant colonies was a guarantee that sturdy traits would be found in the descendants of the first settlers. In the world's history we find no higher type of patriotism than on the barren, rocky shores of Massachusetts. It is undoubtedly true that there were some whose sympathies were not with the principles which inspired the majority of the people of that day, who were distrustful of the consequences which would result from failure, and who gave but feeble encouragement. We find such in every age and country. But it must be put down to the credit of even these few that they paid heavy taxes without resistance, and yielded to the popular will after independence was once declared. "Royalists as well as republicans, tories as well as whigs, gave of their substance to establish the liberties of their country."

The acts and motives of the men of this town deserved to be crowned with that success which came in due season, a priceless benefit to posterity.

It was General Benjamin Lincoln, of Hingham, the wise counsellor, the foremost citizen of his time, the trusted friend of Washington, who was designated to receive the sword of Cornwallis at Yorktown. Among the many worthy and distinguished names of the sons of Hingham, that of General Lincoln stands in the foremost rank. His monument stands in the cemetery near the Old Meeting-house, characteristic of the man in its rich simplicity.

In the war of 1812, although a majority of the citizens disapproved of the State administration, "all manifested a disposition to defend their houses and firesides against the common foe, and repaired with alacrity to resist any invasion upon their neighbors."

In the war of the Rebellion it is the same story of patriotism and a ready response to the call of the country. Early in the field and late to leave it, the record of the town does not differ from others in the State. A monument bearing the names of those who gave their lives for the country was erected in 1870, in the Hingham cemetery, near the statue of Governor Andrew.

The town has always made liberal provision for education, and its schools stand to-day, as they have always stood, among the best. The public schools have, for several years past, contained between 600 and 700 pupils, and appropriations of $13,000 to $14,000 are made annually for their support. Besides the public schools there are a number of small private schools, and the Derby Academy, which was established by Mrs. Sarah Derby, who endowed it with funds for its support. She died in 1790, and the school was opened in 1791, since which time it has continued uninterruptedly to educate many pupils in the town as well as a number from neighboring towns. The list of graduates contains the names of many who became distinguished in after life. It is for both males and females, and is managed by a board of trustees. Its history is one of credit to its founder and to the town. Mrs. Derby's first husband, from whom she acquired her property, was Dr. Ezekiel Hersey, of Hingham, well known as the founder of the professorship bearing his name in Harvard College.

Among the other benefactions to the town must be mentioned the Hingham Public Library, opened for the use of the inhabitants, in 1869, through the liberality of the late Hon. Albert Fearing. By liberal gifts of money from him a building was built and books were purchased. Large and valuable donations of books were also made by other public-spirited citizens until several thousand volumes were collected together. The building and its contents were totally destroyed by fire, Jan. 3, 1879. A more commodious building was immediately erected, and opened to the public April 5, 1880. Its shelves are well filled with standard literature. The library is managed by a board of trustees under a deed of trust from Mr. Fearing.

The industries of Hingham are varied, and, from a business point of view, it must be admitted that there has been a considerable decline during the last fifty years. Although never a manufacturing town, within the usual meaning of that term, there were formerly many small manufactories of various articles, among which may be mentioned buckets, furniture, hatchets, etc. The mackerel-fishery was also extensively carried on from this port; but that has all disappeared, and Hingham is becoming, more and more every year, a surburban town of residences. With the increased facilities afforded by railroad and steamboat for daily access to the city of Boston, many of its citizens, whose business is in the city, have their residences in Hingham; and it is also the summer home of many others. The railroad was opened in 1849, and a steamboat has made regular trips to and from the city during the summer months for the past fifty years. Downer Landing, the well-known summer resort, with its pleasure-gardens, summer cottages, and hotel, the Rose Standish House, built up through the philanthropy and liberality of the late Mr. Samuel Downer, are within the limits of Hingham.

There is one hotel in the settled part of the town, the Cushing House.

The town is abundantly supplied with water of the purest quality for domestic and fire purposes, from Accord Pond, situated on the southern boundary line of the town, and there is an excellent fire department.

There is a weekly paper (The Hingham Journal), a national bank, a savings-bank, and a fire insurance company, which, with numerous stores in almost every department of domestic supplies, largely make up the business of the town.

The Hingham Agricultural and Horticultural Society holds monthly meetings and an annual exhibition in its spacious hall and grounds.

The views from several of the hills in Hingham are very beautiful, and its woods and fields afford a large and varied study for the botanist.

Of a high average of intelligence, attentive to education, encouraging morality, obedient to the laws, the people of Hingham have always stood high in the scale of social enjoyment and prosperity. Its town meetings are models of democratic government, and there are few places in which this purely American institution is preserved with so much respect and true regard for the public welfare.

It is with justifiable pride that the native of Hingham looks back through the two and one-half centuries of her history.

"Such is the patriot's boast, where'er we roam, His first, best country ever is at home."

* * * * *



THE HOUSE OF TICKNOR.

WITH A GLIMPSE OF THE OLD CORNER BOOKSTORE.

By Barry Lyndon.

The great Boston fire of 1872 had a forerunner in the same city. In 1711 a most sweeping conflagration occurred, which burned down all the houses on both sides of Cornhill, from School street to Dock square, besides the First Church, the Town House, all the upper part of King street, and the greater part of Pudding Lane, between Water street and Spring Lane. Nearly one hundred houses were destroyed, of which the debris was used to fill up Long Wharf. The fire "broke out," says an account in the Boston News-Letter, "in an old tenement within a backyard in Cornhill, near the First Meeting-house, occasioned by the carelessness of a poor Scottish woman by using fire near a parcel of ocum, chips, and other combustible rubbish."

The houses which were rebuilt along Cornhill, soon after the fire, were "of brick, three stories high, with a garret, a flat roof, and balustrade." Several of these houses were still standing in 1825; in 1855 only a very few remained; while only one, so far as we know, has come down to us to-day and is yet even well-preserved, namely, the Old Corner Bookstore, on the corner of the present Washington and School streets.

This old house teems with historical associations, past and present. Under its roof Mrs. Anne Hutchinson was wont to hold her Antinomian seances, under the very nose of Governor John Winthrop, when "over against the site of the Old Corner Store dwelt the notables of the town,—the governor, the elder of the church, the captain of the artillery company, and the most needful of the craftsmen and artificers of the humble plantation; and at a short distance from it were the meeting-house, the market-house, the town-house, the school-house, and the ever-flowing spring of pure water."

The Old Corner Store is supposed to have been built directly after the fire of 1711. It is an example of what is known as the colonial style of architecture, and is thought to be the oldest brick building now standing in Boston. Upon a tablet on its western gable appears the supposed date of its construction, 1712.



After passing through several ownerships the house reverted, in 1755, to the descendants of the Hutchinson family. In 1784 it belonged to Mr. Edward Sohier and his wife Susanna (Brimmer), and was valued at L1,600. In 1795 it came into the possession of Mr. Herman Brimmer, and was designated in the first Boston Directory (1789) as No. 76 Cornhill. In 1817 the front part of the building was used as an apothecary shop, by Dr. Samuel Clarke, the father of Rev. James Freeman Clarke. In 1824 the name of Cornhill was changed to Washington street, and the old store was variously numbered until it took No. 135. Here Dr. Clarke remained keeping shop until 1828, when he was succeeded by a firm of booksellers. After he left, the building was considerably changed, inside and out, and Messrs. Richard B. Carter and Charles J. Hendee then occupied the front room as a bookstore, in 1828, and Mr. Isaac R. Butts moved his printing-office from Wilson's Lane to the chambers soon afterwards. Messrs. Carter and Hendee continued in the store until 1832, when they removed to No. 131, upstairs, and were succeeded by John Allen and William D. Ticknor in 1832-34. From 1834 the store was occupied by Mr. W.D. Ticknor alone until 1845; and subsequently by himself and partners, Mr. John Reed, Jr., and James T. Fields, until the spring of 1864, when the senior partner died. The new firm of Ticknor (Howard M.), Fields (James T.), and Osgood (James R.) remained at the Old Corner till 1867, when they removed to No. 124 Tremont street. Messrs. E.P. Dutton & Co. next moved into the Old Corner Store, and was succeeded, September 1, 1869, by Alexander Williams & Co. The store is now occupied, since 1882, by Messrs. Cupples, Upham, & Co., well-known book publishers.



It will be seen that the first appearance of the name of Ticknor, as in any way associated with the publishing of books, was in 1832. In the spring of 1864 Mr. William D. Ticknor visited Philadelphia in company with Nathaniel Hawthorne; was taken suddenly ill and died there. Shortly afterwards his eldest son Howard M. Ticknor, a graduate of Harvard College in the class of 1856, was taken into the firm, which, under the name of TICKNOR & FIELDS, held a very prominent place among American publishers for over twenty years. During the period ending with the year 1867 the Old Corner was one of the best known spots in Boston, not alone by reason of its antiquity, but equally by reason of its distinguished literary history and its habitues. Here Charles Dickens and Thackeray used to loiter and chat with their American publishers; Lowell, Longfellow, Holmes, and Whittier, and Whipple the essayist, made it their head-quarters. Nearly all of their best-known writings, and those of Emerson, Hawthorne, Saxe, Winthrop, Bayard Taylor, Mrs. Stowe, Aldrich, Howells, and a host of other well-known authors, sooner or later bore the imprint of the house of Ticknor. After the failure of Messrs. Phillips, Sampson,& Co., the "Atlantic Monthly," first suggested by Mr. Francis H. Underwood, now United States Consul to Glasgow, passed into the hands of Ticknor & Fields, and, a little later, was added "Our Young Folks," edited by J.T. Trowbridge and Lucy Larcom, "Every Saturday," edited by T.B. Aldrich, and the "North American Review," long edited by James Russell Lowell.



Still later the firm name was Fields, Osgood, & Co., then James R. Osgood & Co., then Houghton, Osgood,& Co., and again James R. Osgood & Co. The last-named firm published a remarkable series of books, which their successors inherit.



At no time in its history, from 1832 to the present time, has the firm been without a Ticknor in its copartnership. For a brief season, however, the name disappeared from the firm's imprint.

The great publishing house has just inaugurated a new tenure of life as Ticknor & Co., the copartnership consisting of Benjamin H. and Thomas B. Ticknor, sons of William D. Ticknor, and George F. Godfrey, of Bangor, Me., a gentleman of marked culture and geniality, and one, too, who, all may rest assured, will take kindly to and will find success in the book business. With scholarly acquirements, and with minds trained to the wants of to-day, the sons of W.D. Ticknor, both gentlemen of refined literary taste, now step to the front with strong hands and vigorous purposes, not alone to perpetuate but to add to the former reputation of the time-honored publishing house.

The new house succeeds to a rich inheritance of the books of younger American authors,—those of Howells, James, Edgar Fawcett, Kate Field, Mrs. Burnett, Miss Howard, Julian Hawthorne, George W. Cable, and others. That it means to maintain the supremacy is foreshadowed by the list of important works which it has announced as forthcoming.

* * * * *



THE FIRST NEW ENGLAND WITCH.

By Willard H. Morse, M.D.

At the beginning of the seventeenth century, in an English country district, two lads romped on the same lea and chased the same butterflies. One was a little brown-eyed boy, with red cheeks, fine round form, and fiery temper. The other was a gentle child, tall, lithe, and blonde. The one was the son of a man of wealth and a noble lady, and carried his captive butterflies to a mansion-house, and kept them in a crystal case. The other ran from the fields to a farm-house, and thought of the lea as a grain field. It might have been the year 1606, when the two were called in from their play-ground, and sent to school, thus to begin life. The farmer's boy went to a common school, and his brown-eyed play-mate entered a grammar school. From that time their paths were far apart.

The name of the tall, blonde boy was Samuel Morse. At fifteen he left school to help his father on the home farm. At twenty he had become second tenant on a Wiltshire holding, and began to be a prosperous farmer. Before he had attained the age of forty he was the father of a large family of children, among them five sons, whose names were Samuel, William, Robert, John, and Anthony. William, Robert, and Anthony ultimately emigrated to America, while Samuel, Jr., and John remained in England. Young Samuel went to London, and became a merchant and a miser. When past his fiftieth year he married. His wife died four years later, leaving a baby daughter and a son. Both children were sent up to Marlboro, where they had a home with their Uncle John, who was living on the old farm. There they grew up, and became the heirs both of John and their father. The boy was named Morgan. He received a finished education, embraced the law, and married. His only child and daughter, Mary, became the heiress of her aunt's property and her great-uncle John's estate, and was accounted a lady of wealth, station, and beauty.

Meanwhile, the family of old Samuel Morse's playfellow had also reached the fourth generation. The name of that playfellow was Oliver Cromwell, who became Lord Protector of the British Commonwealth. Of course he forgot Samuel Morse, and was sitting in Parliament when Samuel died. He had children and grandchildren who lived as contemporaries of his old playmate's children and grandchildren. Two or three years before Samuel's great granddaughter, Mary, was born, a great grandson of the Protector saw the light. This boy was named Oliver, but was called "Rummy Noll." The ancestral estate of Theodale's became his sole inheritance, and as soon as he came into the property he began to live a wild, fast life, distinguishing himself as an adventurous, if not profligate gentleman.

He travelled much; and one day in a sunny English year came to the town of his great-grandfather's nativity. There he chanced to meet Mary Morse. The beautiful girl fascinated him, but would not consent to be his wife until all of his "wild oats" were sown. Then she became Mrs. Cromwell, and was a happy wife, as well as a lady of eminence and wealth. Oliver and Mary Cromwell had a daughter Olivia, who married a Mr. Russell, and whose daughters are the present sole representatives of the Protectorate family.

As was said above, William, Anthony, and Robert Morse, brothers of Samuel, Jr., emigrated to America, and became the ancestors of nearly all of their name in this country. William and Anthony settled at Newbury, Massachusetts. The latter became a respected citizen, and among his descendants were such men as Rev. Dr. James Morse of Newburyport, Samuel Finley Breese Morse, the inventor of the telegraph, Rev. Sidney Edwards Morse, and others scarcely less notable.

Robert Morse, Anthony's brother, left England at about the time of the beginning of the civil war, and located in Boston as a tailor. He was a sterling old Puritan, prudent, enterprising and of strict morality. He speculated in real estate, and after a while removed to Elizabethtown, New Jersey, which place he helped to settle, and where he amassed much wealth. He had nine children. Among his descendants were some men of eminence, as Dr. Isaac Morse of Elizabethtown, Honorable Nathan Morse of New Orleans, Isaac E. Morse, long a member of Congress from Louisiana, Judge Morse of Ohio, and others.

None of these sons of Samuel, the mate of Cromwell, were great men themselves, but were notable in their descendants. Samuel's descendant came to represent a historical family; Anthony's greatest descendant invented the telegraph; and the descendants of Robert were noble Southrons. William alone of the five brothers had notoriety. Samuel, Jr., was more eminent, but William made a mark in Massachusetts' history. Settling in the town of Newbury, William Morse led an humble and monotonous life. When he had lived there more than forty years, and had come to be an old and infirm man, he was made to figure unhappily in the first legal investigation of New England witchcraft. This was in 1679-81, or more than ten years before the Salem witchcraft, and it constitutes a page of hitherto unpublished Massachusetts history. Mr. and Mrs. Morse resided in a plain, wooden house that still stands at the head of Market Street, in what is now Newburyport. William had been a farmer, but his sons had now taken the homestead, and he was supporting himself and wife by shoe-making. His age was almost three-score-years-and-ten, and he was a reputably worthy man, then just in the early years of his dotage. His wife, the "goody Elizabeth," was a Newbury woman, and apparently some few years her husband's senior.

I can easily imagine the worthy couple there in the old square room of a winter's night. On one side of the fire-place sits the old man in his hard arm-chair, his hands folded, and his spectacles awry, as he sonorously snores away the time. Opposite him sits the old lady, a little, toothless dame, with angular features half hidden in a stiffly starched white cap, her fingers flying over her knitting-work, as precisely and perseveringly she "seams," "narrows," and "widens." At the old lady's right hand stands a cherry table, on which burns a yellow tallow candle that occasionally the dame proceeds to snuff. There is no carpet on the floor, and the furniture is poor and plain. A kitchen chair sits at the other side of the table, and in, or on it, sits a half-grown boy, a ruddy, freckled, country boy who wants to whistle, and prefers to go out and play, but who is required to stay in the house, to sit still, and to read from out the leather-covered Bible that lies open on the table before him.

"But I would like to go out and slide down hill!" begs the boy.

"Have you read yer ten chapters yit?" asks the old dame.

"N-no!"

"Wal; read on."

And the lad obeys. He is reading aloud; he is not a good reader; the chapters are in Deuteronomy; but that stint must be performed before evening; then ten chapters after six o'clock, and at eight he must go to bed. If he moves uneasily in his chair, or stops to breathe, he is reprimanded.

The boy was the grandson of the old couple, and resided with them. Under just such restrictions he was kept. Bright, quick, and full of boy life, he was restless under the enforced restraint.

In the neighborhood resided a Yankee school-master, named Caleb Powell, a fellow, who delighted in interfering with the affairs of his neighbors, and in airing his wisdom on almost every known subject. He noticed that the Puritan families kept their boys too closely confined; and influenced by surreptitious gifts of cider and cheese, he interceded in their behalf. He was regarded as an oracle, and was listened to with respect. Gran'ther Morse was among those argued with, and being told that the boy was losing his health by being "kept in" so much, he at once consented to give him a rest from the Bible readings and let him play out of doors and at the houses of the neighbors. Once released, the lad declared that he "should not be put under again." Fertile in imagination, he soon devised a plan.

At that time a belief in witchcraft was universal, and afforded a solution of everything strange and unintelligible. The old shoemaker firmly believed in the supernatural agency of witches, and his roguish grandson knew it. That he might not be obliged to return to the Scripture readings, the boy practised impositions on his grandfather to which the old man became a very easy dupe.

No one suspected the boy's agency, except Caleb Powell. That worthy knew the young man, and believed that there was nothing marvellous or superstitious about the "manifestations." Desirous of being esteemed learned, he laid claim to a knowledge of astrology, and when the "witchcraft" was the town talk he gave out that he could develope the whole mystery. The consequence was that he was suspected of dealing in the black art, and was accused, tried, and narrowly escaped with his life.

On the court records of Salem is entered:—

"December 3, 1679. Caleb Powell being complained of for suspicion of working with ye devill to the molesting of William Morse and his family, was by warrant directed to constable, and respited till Monday." "December 8, (Monday) Caleb Powell appeared ... and it was determined that sd. Morse should present ye case at ye county court at Ipswich in March."

This order was obeyed, and the trial came on. The following is a specimen of the testimony presented:—

"William Morse saith, together with his wife, that Thursday night being November 27, we heard a great noyes of knocking ye boards of ye house, whereupon myselfe and wife looks out and see nobody, but we had stones and sticks thrown at us so that we were forced to retire.

"Ye same night, ye doore being lockt when we went to bed, we heerd a great hog grunt in ye house, and willing to go out. That we might not be disturbed in our sleep, I rose to let him out, and I found a hog and the door unlockt.

"Ye next night I had a great awl that I kept in the window, the which awl I saw fall down ye chimney into ye ashes. I bid ye boy put ye same awl in ye cupboard which I saw done, and ye door shut too. When ye same awl came down ye chimney again in our sight, and I took it up myselfe.

"Ye next day, being Saturday, stones, sticks and pieces of bricks came down so that we could not quietly eat our breakfast. Sticks of fire came downe also at ye same time.

"Ye same day in ye afternoon, my thread four times taken away and come downe ye chimney againe; my awl and a gimlet wanting came down ye chimney. Againe, my leather and my nailes, being in ye cover of a firkin, taken away, and came downe ye chimney.

"The next, being Sunday, stones, sticks and brickbats came down ye chimney. On Monday, Mr. Richardson [the minister,] and my brother was there. They saw ye frame of my cow-house standing firm. I sent my boy to drive ye fowls from my hog's trough. He went to ye cow-house, and ye frame fell on him, he crying with ye hurt. In ye afternoon ye potts hanging over ye fire did dash so vehemently one against another that we did sett down one that they might not dash to pieces. I saw ye andiron leap into ye pott and dance, and leap out, and again leap in, and leap on a table and there abide. And my wife saw ye andiron on ye table. Also I saw ye pott turn over, and throw down all ye water. Againe we see a tray with wool leap up and downe, and throw ye wool out, and saw nobody meddle with it. Again a tub's hoop fly off, and nobody near it. Againe ye woolen wheele upside downe, and stood upon its end, and a spade set on it. This myself, my wife, and Stephen Greenleaf saw. Againe my tools fell down on ye ground, and before my boy could take them they were sent from him. Againe when my wife and ye boy were making ye bed, ye chest did open and shutt, ye bed-clothes would not be made to ly on ye bed, but flew off againe.

"We saw a keeler of bread turn over. A chair did often bow to me. Ye chamber door did violently fly together. Ye bed did move to and fro. Ye barn-door was unpinned four times. We agreed to a big noise in ye other room. My chair would not stand still, but was ready to throw me backward. Ye catt was thrown at us five times. A great stone of six pounds weight did remove from place to place. Being minded to write, my ink-horne was hid from me, which I found covered by a ragg, and my pen quite gone. I made a new penn, and while I was writing, one eare of corne hitt me in ye face, and sticks, stones, and my old pen were flung att me. Againe my spectickles were throwne from ye table, and almost into ye hot fire. My paper, do what I could, I could hardly keep it. Before I could dry my writing, a mammouth hat rubbed along it, but I held it so fast that it did only blot some of it. My wife and I being much afraid that I should not preserve ye writing, we did think best to lay it in ye Bible. Againe ye next night I lay it there againe, but in ye morning it was not to be found, till I found it in a box alone. Againe while I was writing this morning I was forced to forbeare writing any more, because I was so disturbed by many things constantly thrown att me."

Anthony Morse testified:—

"Occasionally, being to my brother Morse's hous, he showed to me a pece of brick, what had several times come down ye chimne. I sitting in ye cornar towde that pece of brick in my hand. Within a littel spas of tiem ye pece of brick was gone from me I know not by what meanes. Quickly after it come down chimne. Also in ye chimne cornar I saw a hammar on ye ground. Their bein no person nigh it, it was sodenly gone, by what meanes I know not; but within a littell spas it fell down chimne, and ... also a pece of woud a fute long.

"Taken on oath Dec. the 8, 1679, before me,

"JOHN WOODBRIDGE, COMMISSIONER."

Thomas Hardy testified:—

"I and George Hardy being at William Morse his house, affirm that ye earth in ye chimny cornar moved and scattered on us. I was hitt with somewhat; Hardy hitt by a iron ladle; somewhat hitt Morse a great blow, butt itt was so swift none could tell what itt was. After, we saw itt was a shoe."

Rev. Mr. Richardson testified:—

"Was at Bro. Morse his house on a Saturday. A board flew against my chair. I heard a noyes in another roome, which I suppose in all reason was diabolicall."

John Dole testified:—

"I saw, sir, a large fire-stick of candle-wood, a stone, and a fire-brand to fall down. These I saw nott whence they come till they fell by me."

Elizabeth Titcomb testified:—

"Powell said that he could find out ye witch by his learning if he had another scholar with him."

Joseph Myrick and Sarah Hale testified:—

"Joseph Morse, often said in our hearing that if there are any Wizards he was sure Caleb Powell was one."

William Morse being asked what he had to say as to Powell being a wizard, testified:—

"He come in, and seeing our spirit very low cause by our great affliction, he said, 'Poore old man, and poor old woman, I eye ye boy, who is ye occasion of all your greefe; and I draw neere ye with great compassion.' Then sayd I, 'Powell, how can ye boy do them things?' Then sayd he, 'This boy is a young rogue, a vile rogue!' Powell, he also sayd, that he had understanding in Astrology and Astronomie, and knew the working of spirits. Looking on ye boy, he said, 'You young rogue!' And to me, Goodman Morse, if you be willing to lett me have ye boy I will undertake that you shall be freed from any trouble of this kind the while he is with me."

Other evidence was received for the prosecution. The defence put in by Powell was that "on Monday night last, till Friday after the noone, I had ye boy with me, and they had no trouble."

Mary Tucker deposed:—

"Powell said he come to Morse's and did not see fit to go in as the old man was att prayer. He lookt in a window, and saw ye boy fling a shoe at the old man's head while he prayed."

The verdict now stands on the court record, and reads as follows:—

"Upon hearing the complaint brought to this court against Caleb Powell for suspicion of working by the devill to the molesting of ye family of William Morse of Newbury, though this court cannot find any evident ground of proceeding farther against ye sayd Powell, yett we determine that he hath given such ground of suspicion of his so dealing that we cannot so acquit him but that he justly deserves to bare his own shame and the costs of prosecution of the complaint."

The bad boy seems to have had a grudge against Powell, and, anxious to see that person punched, he resumed his pranks both at his grandfather's and among the neighbors.

Strange things happened. Joseph Bayley's cows would stand still and not move. Caleb Powell, having been discharged, no longer boasted of his learning. Jonathan Haines' oxen would not work. A sheep belonging to Caleb Moody was mysteriously dyed. Zachariah Davis' calves all died, as did also a sheep belonging to Joshua Richardson. Mrs. John Wells said that she saw the "imp of God in sayd Morse's hous."

Sickness visited several families, and Goody Morse, as was her custom, acted as village nurse. One by one her patients died. John Dee, Mrs. William Chandler, Mrs. Goodwin's child, and an infant of Mr. Ordway's, were among the dead. The rumor ran about that Goody Morse was a witch. John Chase affirmed that he had seen her coming into his house through a knot-hole at night. John Gladding saw "halfe of Marm Morse about two a clocke in ye daytime." Jonathan Woodman, seeing a strange black cat, struck it; and Dr. Dole was called the same day to treat a bruise on Mrs. Morse. The natural inference was that the old lady was a witch and the cause of all of these strange things, as well as of the extraordinary occurrences in her home. Accusers were not wanting, and she was arrested. In her trial all of this evidence was put in, and her husband repeated his testimony at the Powell trial. The county court heard it and passed the case to the General Court, from whence it was returned.

The records abound in reports of the testimony. We will only quote the evidence of Zachariah Davis, who said:—

"I having offended Goody Morse, my three calves fell a dancing and roaring, and were in such a condition as I never saw a calf in before ... A calf ran a roaringe away soe that we gott him only with much adoe and putt him in ye barne, and we heard him roar severell times in ye night. In ye morning I went to ye barne, and there he was setting upon his tail like a dog. I never see no calf set after that manner before; and so he remained in these fits till he died."

The entry on the court record is as follows:—

"Boston, May ye 20, 1680:—The Grand Jury presenting Elizabeth, wife of William Morse. She was indicted by name of Elizabeth Morse for that she not having ye fear of God before her eyes, being instigated by the Devil, and had familiarity with the Devil contrary to ye peace of our sovereign lord, the King, his crown and dignity, the laws of God, and of this jurisdiction. After the prisoner was att ye barr and pleaded not guilty, and put herself on ye country and God for trial. Ye evidences being produced were read and committed to ye jury."

"Boston, May 21st, of 1680:—Ye jury brought in their verdict. They found Elizabeth Morse guilty according to indictment.

"May ye 27:—Then ye sentence of ye Governor, to wit:—'Elizabeth you are to goe from hence to ye plaice from which you come, and thence to the plaice of execution, and there to be hanged, by ye neck, till you be dead; and ye Lord have mercy on your Soule.'"

"June ye 1st:—Ye Governor and ye magistrates voted ye reprieving of Eliz. Morse, as attests,

"EDWARD RAWSON, Secretary."

The unfortunate woman seems to have remained imprisoned until the meeting of the Legislature. On the records of that body we find:—

"Ye Deputies in perusal of ye Acts of ye Hon. Court of Assistants relating to ye woman condemned for witchcraft doe not understand why execution of ye sentence given her by ye sd. court is not executed. Her repreeval seems to us to be beyond what ye law will allow, and doe therefore judge meete to declare ourselves against it, etc. This Nov. 3d., 1680.

"WM. TORREY, Clerk."

Then follows this entry:—

"Exceptions not consented to by ye magistrates.

"EDWARD RAWSON, Secretary."

Mrs. Morse continued in prison until May 1681. On the fourteenth of that month her husband petitioned for her to "the honorable gen. court now sitting in Boston," begging "to clere up ye truth." This petition recites a review of the testimony of seventeen persons who had testified against Goody Morse. On the eighteenth, he petitioned "ye hon. Governor, deputy Governor, deputies and magistrates." In answer, a new hearing was granted. The court record says:—

"Ye Deputyes judge meet to grant ye petitioner a hearing ye next sixth day and that warrants go forth to all persons concerned from this court, they to appear in order to her further trial, our honored magistrates hereto consenting.

"WM. TORREY, Clerk."

Again the magistrates were refractory, for we find:—

"May twenty-fourth, 1681:—Not consented to by ye magistrates.

"EDWARD RAWSON, Secretary."

No further trial followed. Mr. Morse did not rest in his efforts for the release of his wife. He called a council of the clergymen of the neighborhood to examine her. The council met and acted. The report of the Rev. John Hale of Beverly (probably chairman) is before me. It reads:—

"This touching Madam Elizabeth Morse:—

"She being reprieved, her husband desired us to discourse her, which we did. Her discourse was very christain, and she still pleaded her innocence of that which was laid to her dischage. We did not esteem it prudence for us to pass any definite sentence upon on under her circumstances, yet we inclined to ye more charitable side."

After this examination the court permitted her to return home, when she never gave further occasion for slander, dying the death of a hopeful Christian not many years after.

And the mischievous grandson, what of him? He went to Beverly, married, had children, died. His great-great-grandson lives to-day. He, descendant of William, over wires that Anthony's descendant made to do noble work, sends this message, written on paper made by a descendant of Robert, to Miss Russell, representing Samuel Morse and Oliver Cromwell:—

"After two centuries witch-work is in electricity, and that witch-work has made us a name."

* * * * *



IN EMBER DAYS.

By Adelaide C. Waldron.

Softly there sounds above the roar Of the wide world's deafening din, An echo of song from a far-off time, Deeper and sweeter than poet's rhyme, Whose tidings of joy and whose message sublime, "Heaven's peace on earth, and good-will to mankind," Fill me with force; I yet will find The way to enter in!

* * * * *



CHRISTOPHER GAULT.—A STORY.

By Edward P. Guild.

In the summer of 1879 I went to a quiet town in north-western Massachusetts, with the object of getting a few weeks of much needed rest and recreation. It had been four years since the first appearance of my name as "Attorney and Counsellor at Law," on the door of a small Washington-street office, just below the Herald Building in the city of Boston; and, as I had worked all that time with hardly a thought of rest, I decided to take a good, respectable vacation.

Hopkins, who had an office on the same floor, advised me to go to H——, in Franklin county, where I could find the purest of air, splendid scenery, good trout fishing, and entire freedom from fashionable boarders. As this was just the bill of fare that I wanted, and as Hopkins was born and brought up there, and ought to know, I thankfully accepted his advice.

A week after my arrival I met Christopher Gault, who was boarding not far from Deacon Thompson's, where I had my quarters. A friendship at once began to grow between us, and our time was largely spent in each other's company. I found my new acquaintance a very agreeable companion, and, moreover, an unusually interesting young man. He was then about twenty-six years old, of medium stature, dark brown hair, and closely-cut side whiskers and moustache. His talents were brilliant and varied. Mathematics were his delight, and he had well chosen the profession of a civil engineer, in which, as I afterwards learned, he was already gaining distinction in my own city of Boston. He was an ardent admirer of nature, and was always ready for a ramble with me over the hills or through the woods; always closely observing the formation of the rocks, and capturing any interesting specimen of mineral, plant, or bug that came under the notice of his sharp eyes.

In conversation, which we often enjoyed on the broad piazza, Gault was exceedingly entertaining, and usually took an absorbing interest in the subject under discussion; but at times he would sit silent as though engrossed in other thoughts, and often with a very apparent look of melancholy in his face. One day when I had been noticing this, I said:—

"Gault, you are growing too serious for your age; you ought to get a wife."

He smiled a little quickly, and resumed his former expression, without replying; but after a moment drew from his pocket book a photograph, and placed it in my hand.

It was of a most attractive looking young lady of, perhaps, twenty-two years.

"Ah! I see that my suggestion is not needed," I said, holding the picture at arm's length to get a better general impression. "Is she yours?"

He flushed a little at so direct a question, as he answered evasively:—

"She is a very true friend of mine."

"But she is more than that. Now, tell me, Gault, when is your honeymoon to begin?"

"That is more than I can tell," he replied, slowly returning the photograph to his pocket book.

"You must not wait to get rich," I observed. "It is when a man is working for success that he most needs the sympathy and help of a good wife."

"I know that," replied my friend; "but I am in a peculiar position. Some day I will tell you all."

I saw that he was growing nervous, and changed the subject of conversation.

Returning from the post office that afternoon to the old farm house, I stopped for a little chat with Deacon Thompson, my good natured host, who was mending his orchard fence; for the well loaded boughs of apples, just beginning to assume their various tinges of red, yellow, or russet, offered a strong temptation to the cattle in the adjoining pasture. Incidentally I inquired regarding an old excavation which I had noticed on the hill near an unfrequented road. This excavation had apparently once served for a cellar, although most of the stones had been removed, and the sheep easily ran down its now sloping and grassy sides. In close proximity was a deep well, over the top of which had been placed a huge, flat stone. Overshadowing both cellar and well were three ancient elms, storm-beaten and lightning-cleft, but still standing as if to guard the very solitude which was unbroken save by the tinkling bell, which told whither the farmer's flock was straying. From Mr. Thompson I learned the history connected with this scene.

Twenty years before he was born, his father's folks saw, one morning in March, a smoke curling above the tops of the elms which were just visible over the brow of the hill. Quickly going to the scene, they found the house burned to the ground. The occupants were an old man, named Peter Colburn, and his wife; and they, together with a traveller, who had obtained lodging there for the night, were all burned with the house. The stranger's horse and saddle were found in the barn, some little distance from the house, but there was no clew to his identity. There were only a few people then who had settled in this bleak region, and there was no funeral other than the assembling of a half dozen together, who dug a grave within fifty feet from the elms, and there laid the charred remains of the unfortunate victims. I had seen a small, rough, unlettered stone standing there, but did not before know its meaning.

The next day I related the bit of tragic history to Christopher Gault, and we strolled over the hill to its scene.

"What a magnificent view!" he exclaimed, as we came to the place.

Certainly it could not be finer. We stood upon an elevated plateau, from which the prospect in either direction was beautiful and grand. To the north could be seen the graceful curves of the Green Mountain range, gradually growing fainter and of paler blue as the eye followed them to at least seventy miles away.

Farther to the east rose the majestic form of Monadnock, if not the highest, one of the very noblest peaks in the Granite State. In an opposite direction, and nearly one hundred miles from Monadnock, stood old Greylock, the greatest elevation in Massachusetts; while much nearer by—in fact, seeming almost at our feet when compared with these immense ranges—lay the charming Deerfield valley, up from which rose the curling smoke of the locomotive as it moved steadily westward, until hidden from view by a sudden entrance into Hoosac Tunnel.

The view so absorbed our attention for a time that we hardly noticed our immediate surroundings. When we did so we began to make an examination. Gault, with characteristic curiosity, began a search in the bottom of the old cellar. Suddenly he emerged.

"A veritable relic!" he exclaimed. "See! an old knife; and here on its handle is a name. Can you read it?" and he handed it to me.

A minute's brisk scouring made it quite plain.

"I have it now," I said. "It is Samuel Wickham."

As I read the inscription I was startled to see the color almost instantly leave Gault's face.

"Samuel Wickham! You don't mean It. Let me see," and he grasped the knife from my hand.

"It is. You are right," he said. "You do not understand my interest in this matter," he added, evidently a little embarrassed at his own manner. "It was the name that struck me. Probably this knife belonged to the unfortunate stranger," and he put it carefully in his pocket.

"Do you know just when the house was burned,—did Mr. Thompson say?" he inquired, trying hard to control his excitement.

"Not exactly," I replied; "but he told me that he had a record somewhere. You could probably ascertain from him."

The next morning I went trouting alone, and did not return to the house until afternoon. When I did so I found a note awaiting me.

It proved to be from my friend, and said that for special reasons he had decided to return to the city that day. He was sorry not to see me again, but hoped to do so before long. I, in turn, was quite anxious to meet him again, and learn why he had returned so unexpectedly, and to know the cause of his singular manner upon finding the rusty knife. The two events were naturally connected in my mind, and also our previous conversation when he had shown me the picture of the young lady.

Three weeks later I was in Boston, and almost at once visited Mr. Gault's office at No.—Water street. To my disappointment, I learned that he had just taken passage for England.

I hoped to see him when he returned, but was not destined to do so until two years later.

Before relating my unexpected meeting with him in 1881, I must describe a certain somewhat remarkable case which I was so fortunate as to have put into my hands shortly after my return from the country.

II.

It was one day in October that a distinguished-looking gentleman of about fifty-five entered my office, introduced himself as Mr. Crabshaw, and asked me to take the following case.

An old woman named Nancy Blake had recently died in Virginia, leaving a large amount of property. This Nancy Blake had lived for over half a century all alone, and almost entirely secluded. She had left neither will nor near relatives, and the question was, who is her nearest of kin? My visitor informed me that long ago he had known of the existence of an eccentric woman in Virginia,—a great-aunt of his now deceased wife. Nothing had been heard from her, however, for twenty-five years, and it was supposed that she was dead; but he had just received information that led him to believe in the identity of the old lady Blake with the aforementioned great-aunt. If the relationship could be established, then his daughter Cecilia would be the true heir. Her claim had been brought to the attention of the court, and she bad been informed that there was another claimant. Would I undertake the case? After a long talk with Mr. Crabshaw, I decided that I would do so. I agreed to call at his house the next day and have another talk with him, and also meet his daughter, preparatory to my trip to Virginia.

Mr. Crabshaw, who, as I subsequently learned, was descended from an English family which had been represented in this country for two generations only, lived in the famous and once aristocratic quarter of Boston known as West End. A short residence on our republican soil had done little to Americanize the Crabshaw family, who lived in true English style. The household consisted only of Mr. Crabshaw and his one daughter, Cecilia, and a small retinue of servants, although he was not possessed of any very large wealth. My first meeting with Miss Crabshaw was at once a pleasure and a surprise; the first because she was a most charming young lady, and the latter because she was the original of the picture shown me a few months before by Christopher Gault. I did not mention the coincidence, however, but proceeded directly to the business in hand. Miss Cecilia was an exceedingly sensible and intelligent young lady and I could get more needed information in ten minutes from her than in half an hour from the old gentleman.

The last time that I met Mr. Crabshaw before going to Virginia, I mentioned having met Mr. Gault the summer before.

"You got acquainted with him then, did you? I am very glad to know it. He is a fine young man—a very estimable fellow, sir. I have always known the family, and always liked Christopher. As you are very likely aware, he thinks a great deal of Cecilia, and she is a pretty firm friend of his. Now that is all very well, sir, as long as they don't get sentimental, or anything of that kind."

"We are constituted so as to grow a little sentimental when the occasion presents itself, Mr. Crabshaw," I remarked.

"Yes, yes, I understand, but my daughter knows quite well that there is no occasion for her yet. I might as well tell you," he continued, after a pause, "that, although it is nothing against Christopher himself, there is a streak of bad blood in the family. His great-grandfather turned traitor; yes, sir, committed treason against the crown of England, and then fled. To be sure," he added, "Christopher Gault is no more responsible for the crime of his ancestor than am I myself; but the question of blood is an important one, and these traits are very liable to crop out; if not in one generation, then in another."

"You believe, then, in the law of heredity as affecting moral character?"

"Certainly. Physical and mental traits are inherited; why not moral?"

A few days later I was in the city of Richmond, and from there I proceeded directly to D—— county, where, at the November term of the county court, I intended to present Miss Crabshaw's claim to the property in question. Meantime I devoted myself to the preparation of testimony relating to the case. I visited the place where old Nancy Blake had lived, situated about twelve miles from D—— court-house. The property left by her consisted of the old house, fallen badly into decay, a small amount of land, and a large sum of money deposited in the bank. Little was known about "Old Nancy," as the few people in the thinly settled locality called her. The most information that I could glean was from an old negro who had been her neighbor for the most of his life. He said that he could well remember her father, who had been dead for fifty years. He was a man of military look and an Englishman. His name was John Blake. He could remember nothing about his wife, but he had at least one son and a daughter besides Nancy. When he was about to die his son came to see him. He was much older than either daughter, Nancy being the youngest. Eleanor died not long after, and Nancy was left alone. She was very eccentric and seldom saw any one.

Such was the story, in brief, as I was able to obtain it from the old negro.

The details of the case, as it was brought out in court, do not need special mention, and it will be sufficient to merely state the basis of the claim.

Although Mr. Crabshaw was very proud of his descent, and traced his lineage back some hundreds of years, and was very particular to have the family coat-of-arms always made conspicuous, yet he had married a lady whose ancestry was not clearly known. Mrs. Crabshaw, who had died when her daughter was a mere child, was a beautiful and accomplished woman, whose grandfather, on her father's side, she had never seen, and of whom she knew no more than that his name was Thomas Blake, and that he died in the town of S——, Connecticut, in 1832, at the age of forty-nine years.

The one important thing that I wished to prove was, that Thomas Blake was the brother of Nancy Blake, and that Cecilia Crabshaw was thus great-grand niece of said Nancy. The court pronounced itself satisfied as to this, and Miss Crabshaw was declared the nearest of kin, and hence heir to the property.

The case had required the presence of my fair client, so she had made the journey to Washington a week previous, where she visited an uncle, and came out to D—— county to be present at the hearing.

It was necessary for me to remain in Virginia some little time on account of other business, and it was arranged that I should see what could be done towards effecting a sale of the real estate. Accordingly, soon after the case had been decided, I went out to look over the premises.

The house was very old, and showed no signs of any improvement having been made for at least half a century. The furniture was of little value and there were but few other things. A rusty sword, a few old books, and some odd trinkets comprised about all. As Miss Crabshaw did not care for these they were given to a negro woman who had rendered some assistance to Old Nancy in the last years of her life.

The house itself contained none of those mysterious passages or hidden closets which the imagination so readily connects with such old habitations. There was a kind of small locker, however, opening from a large closet near the ceiling. This little recess contained nothing but a package of old papers and worthless letters, faded and mouldy. On looking them over, one in particular attracted my attention on account of an official seal which it bore. It proved to be a document commissioning Richard Anthony Treadwell as Major in the Seventh Regiment of Cavalry in the Royal Army of his Majesty King George III. The date was June 12, 1793. But who was Richard Anthony Treadwell, and how happened his commission to be here? A discovery made a few minutes later served to throw some light on the mystery. Among the few books found in the house was an antique volume of Shakspere's plays, which, judging from the thick net-work of cobwebs encircling it, had not been touched for years.

Curiosity led me to open the book. On its fly-leaf was the inscription: "A present to Thomas from his father, Richard A. Treadwell." A curious fact was that this name had been crossed and recrossed with a pen, and underneath had been written as a substitute in the same handwriting: "John Blake." The ink used at the first writing had retained its blackness in a remarkable degree; while that used at the time of the erasure and for the substitute name had so faded that the first name was much plainer than the second. The natural inference, then, was that the father of Nancy Blake and the great-great-grandfather of Cecilia Crabshaw had, at some time, changed his name from that of Richard Anthony Treadwell to that of John Blake. Why he should have done so was an unexplained problem, and whether it was my duty to inform Miss Crabshaw of the fact or not was not quite evident to me. What I really did, however, was to put the old document in my pocket and forget it.

The place was soon after sold for a few hundred dollars, and after attending to my affairs in the locality I returned to Boston, but not to remain.

A leading lawyer in Washington, an old and esteemed friend of my father, and a former adviser of mine in the matter of studying law, had offered to admit me to partnership in a lucrative practice which had become too large for his advancing years. I accepted, and bade good-by to dear old Boston.

III.

It was not until May, 1881, that I returned to my former home, and then for a short time only.

The next day after my arrival I had a caller at my hotel, and to my surprise and pleasure it proved to be my old acquaintance and friend, Christopher Gault.

"I saw your name in the list of arrivals in the morning paper, and came up at once. I am delighted to find you here. I was in hopes to have met you on my return from England, but learned that you had left 'The Hub' entirely."

"Yes, I have been gone a year and a half. But tell me, Gault, where have you kept yourself all of this time? I had nearly lost all trace of you. You made your departure from this continent so suddenly, nearly two years ago, that I thought you must have been"—

"Fleeing from justice?" he interrupted, laughing. "Seeking it, rather. I see you don't quite understand," he added. "Well, you shall have an explanation; but it is quite a little story, and I will not detain you this morning."

"I shall see you again?"

"I hope so, by all means; and Mrs. Gault would be most happy to meet you."

"Mrs. Gault!" I exclaimed, extending my hand,—"Mrs. Gault! Let me congratulate you. And Mrs. Gault was formerly"—

"Miss Cecilia Crabshaw," he interposed, anticipating my guess.

"I could have guessed it," I remarked. "In fact, I think I was rather more sanguine than you two years ago."

He laughed a little, with evident satisfaction. "I have been better prospered than I anticipated then. We have now been married three months. By the way, when do you return to Washington?"

"Probably a week from now,—ten days at the latest."

"Then let me make you a proposition. Besides my acquisition of which you have just learned I have been favored in other ways, and I have just purchased a house in the beautiful town of H——, where you and I met for the first time. This house I have remodelled into a summer residence; and Mrs. Gault and myself, with two or three friends, intend going up tomorrow for a two-months' stay. Now, my proposition is this: when you get ready to return, take a train on the Fitchburg Railroad, and go by the way of Albany and the Hudson river. Stop off at the little station of C——, and come up to H——, and spend a day with your old friend. I will meet you at the station myself. Nothing would give me greater pleasure, and I know the lady who was once your client would unite with me in the invitation."

"The temptation is too great to resist," I responded, after a moment's reflection, "and I accept with pleasure."

A week later I alighted from Christopher Gault's carriage at the door of a beautiful summer cottage, not a mile from where my vacation had been spent in '79. His own groom led the horse to the stable, and Mrs. Gault met us on the veranda. She welcomed me in her charming manner, making a pleasant allusion as she did so to our first meeting as attorney and client. We chatted pleasantly for a half hour, when a bell announced that dinner was ready, and we repaired to the dining-room, where a meal was served, simply, but most tastefully. "Now," said Mr. Gault, as we rose from the table, "perhaps you have in mind the promised explanation of my rather precipitate departure from this attractive region some time ago; and, if Mrs. Gault will excuse us, we will take a little walk.

"You will remember," he began, as we walked leisurely down the well-shaded path in the narrow country road, "that two years ago I showed to you a picture of a lady whom we have just left. You also remember that, while I gave you to understand that we were strongly attached to each other, I was very far from being enthusiastic about it as a young lover might be. You did not know the reason then, but it was simply a question of blood.

"In the year 1795 flagrant act of treason was committed against the Government of Great Britain and His Majesty King George III. My great-grandfather was then a large property holder, not far from London, and he figured prominently in public affairs.

"Although he had always been of irreproachable character, trusted and respected, yet the circumstances were such that suspicion was turned towards him. A certain officer in the king's army appeared and declared himself ready to testify as a witness to treasonable acts and words on the part of my great-grandfather. A warrant was issued for his arrest, and the process was about to be served when it was discovered that he had fled. Then his house was searched, and in it was found strong corroborative evidence. This was nothing less than letters, which, if genuine, proved without the shadow of doubt that he was guilty. There was no one to appear in defence of the accused, and he was convicted. As he was not to be found within the king's domains, judgment of outlawry was pronounced against him as a fugitive from justice. Then followed those dreadful attendant penalties; confiscation of his estate and the terrible 'attainder and corruption of blood.' His only son was in America at the time, and, disgraced and with prospects blighted by the news of his father's downfall, he resolved never to return. Twelve years ago this son's youngest daughter, my beloved mother, died, leaving me with little else than barely means enough to finish my education, and a good amount of ambition.

"Although we lived in a republic where attainder is unknown in the laws of the land, still my mother felt the disgrace keenly. She never believed implicitly, however, that her grandfather was really guilty of the crime for which he was convicted. In fact, after his sentence had been pronounced, there were strong reasons for believing that he was not in England at all at the time of the treason, and his son never ceased in his unavailing efforts to find his whereabouts.

"The Crabshaw family had always been warm friends of ours, and, although they had brought from England many British ideas and counted much on loyalty, yet they were always ready to appreciate any true worth. After I was left alone I valued their friendship highly. I was always welcome at Mr. Crabshaw's house. Cecilia and I were companions in study, and almost before I knew it we were—in love. As I found this sentiment strengthening I grew alarmed; for, although no allusion to my family disgrace had ever been made in my presence, I was aware that Mr. Crabshaw knew the history well, and that the thought of an alliance with the house of Crabshaw would be folly. It was at that time that my mother's belief in her grandfather's innocence became more strongly impressed upon me, and I formed the purpose, almost hopeless though it seemed, of establishing the truth of this belief. The idea grew upon me. I found myself getting nervous, and for the sake of my health I came here two years ago to find relaxation in trout fishing and the study of nature."

We had walked during the relation of my friend's narrative along the road often travelled by me before, and which led to the three shattered elms and the old cellar. We sat down beneath the shade of the trees once more to rest, and as we did so Gault took from his pocket the old knife which two years before had been discovered in the grass-grown cellar.

"There," said he, holding it before my eyes, "there is the name on the handle that you read for the first time,—'Samuel Wickham,'—and you can imagine my feelings when I tell you that that was the name of my great-grandfather. When you told me that Deacon Thompson had a record of this long past tragedy you doubtless remember the intense eagerness with which I hastened to find him.

"In the diary was distinctly recorded the burning of the house, March 4, 1795. If Samuel Wickham was guilty of the crime it was utterly impossible that he should have been out of England at that time. From that moment my cherished belief became a settled conviction. My means were limited, but I resolved to visit England at once, and, if possible, substantiate the evidence found so unexpectedly under these elms; not that I expected to obtain reversal of a sentence pronounced in a court of law over eighty years ago, but Cecelia Crabshaw should know that my blood was not tainted by an ancestor's crime. I can assure you that I thought much more than I slept that night.

"The next day, as you know, I went back to Boston, and a month later was in England. I went directly to S——, and there found the old mansion, once the rightful property of my great-grandfather. I found proof that he sailed for New York, January 23, 1795. But that was not all. The old Wickham mansion had stood for years unoccupied. I learned that after its forfeiture to the crown the whole estate had been granted for life as a reward to the young officer who had brought to the government the evidence of its former owner's treason. By him it was occupied for some thirty years; then he suddenly disappeared. After that the estate was sold to an eccentric and wealthy bachelor, who built a superb residence thereon, letting the old mansion remain closed. Very recently he had died, leaving no will and no heirs, and the estate again escheated to the crown.

"I was very anxious to search the old mansion, and readily obtained permission to enter. It was built in the time of Elizabeth, and was a large building, similar in architecture to many others built in the sixteenth century in this part of England. As I entered the deserted building a strange feeling of desolation took possession of me. Hardly a human being had been within its walls for fifty years. The dust lay deep on the bare oaken floor, and almost muffled the sound of my footsteps. On one exquisitely carved panel appeared, in defiance of attempts to destroy it, the Wickham coat-of-arms.

"I was searching for nothing in particular, but everything had to me a fascinating interest, and I opened every door and examined every nook and shelf. In one room I came across an antique oaken desk. As I pulled open one of its drawers a half-dozen scared spiders fled before the intruding rays of light. In the drawer there was a small wooden box. There was nothing in this box but a sheet of paper, folded and sealed, and addressed to the attorney-general of England. I hesitated a moment, and then broke it open with excited curiosity. It was the most thrilling moment of my life. Even now, as I tell you this story, I feel the same thrill go through me as when my eyes ran over that page. It was nothing more nor less than a written confession of,—first, treason against the crown of England; and, second, perjury and false witness against Samuel Wickham. It was signed by the officer who appeared against him, and was witnessed by two parties. Strange to say, both of these parties were still living, and able to attest the validity of their signatures and the genuineness of the other. They had merely witnessed this signature at the time, without being aware of the nature of the document.

"The excitement and delight which followed this discovery were so great that I could do nothing at all for a time. I then engaged the services of an able barrister, and within six months the judgment of outlawry, forfeiture, attainder, and corruption of blood, pronounced eighty-five years ago upon Samuel Wickham by the Court of the King's Bench, was, upon a writ of error, reversed by the Court of the King's Exchequer. I then proved that I was the only surviving heir of the wrongfully convicted man, and in a short time the estate became mine. After consideration I decided best not to keep the property, and just before my departure from England I sold it for ninety-two thousand pounds sterling. Four months after my return Cecilia married a man whose blood was, at least, free from the inherited taint of treason.

"And now, my dear fellow, you have the story. To be sure there are some things connected with it not entirely clear; as, for instance, why did my ancestor leave England when he did, and how came he to be travelling over these hills? And, in regard to the traitorous officer, where did he go after he had written the letter of confession?—that is a question, although it has been said that he fled to America and settled in Virginia."

"What was this officer's name?"

"His name was Richard Anthony Treadwell, and he was major of the seventh regiment of cavalry."

The sudden mention of this name brought me to my feet. My surprise was so great that for a moment I could say nothing. Then I said, coolly, "I have Major Treadwell's commission in my pocket." Gault stared at me in blank amazement. I drew from my pocket the old document found in the little house in Virginia after the death of Nancy Blake, and handed it to him. I had put it in my pocket just before I left Washington, intending to at last give it to its owner.

He took the paper and glanced at the name. "Where did you get this?" he exclaimed, bewildered with astonishment.

I briefly related the circumstances.

"Well," said Gault, "this is a wonderful coincidence; it is the most remarkable thing that I ever knew. The traitor, it seems, is still in my family, but not on my side of the house. Fortunately for me, however, I do not share my excellent father-in-law's sentiments on the subject of 'blood,' and this singular discovery regarding my wife's great-great-grandfather will not disturb me in the least. Now," he continued, "this remarkable sequel of a remarkable case is known by you and me only, and we may as well let it rest here. It would be a terrible shock to Mr. Crabshaw, with all his proud ideas regarding everything of this kind, to know that his own daughter was descended from one who had been an actual traitor, and I shall never inflict the suffering which such a revelation would cause him. This historic place has given me one relic which led to all my success, and now I will pay it back with another relic for which I have no further use."

As he said this he tore into shreds the old commission and threw them into the ancient cellar.

* * * * *



ELIZABETH.[5]

A ROMANCE OF COLONIAL DAYS.

By Frances C. Sparhawk, Author of "A Lazy Man's Work."

CHAPTER XXII.

THE ARMY SAILS.

Winter was over by the calendar. But neither the skies nor the thermometer agreed with that. Spring could not bring forward evidences of her reign while her predecessor's snowy foot was still planted upon the earth, and showed no haste to get under it. The season had been unusually mild, but it lingered, fighting the battle with its last reserve forces, the breath of the icebergs that came rushing up the harbor like the charge of ten thousand bayonets. Military comparisons were frequent at that time, for the thoughts of New England were bent upon war. Governor Shirley had pressed his measure well. Defeated in the secret conclave of the General Court, he had attacked the Legislature through a petition signed by merchants in Boston and Salem who urged re-consideration. Before February the measure had passed by a majority of one. No student of history can ever despair of the power of one voice or one will. The measure had not passed until the end of January. But public enthusiasm had mounted high, and now while March had still a week to run, the last transports were ready to sail out of the harbor to meet the others at Nantasket Roads, and thence proceed to Canso, where they were to remain and receive supplies until the ice should clear from the harbor. Then to Louisburg.

It might be said that the troops had tiptoed through the state to the music of muffled drums, so much stress had been laid upon secrecy, and so much the success of the expedition depended upon it. No vessels were permitted to sail toward Louisburg, lest they should carry the news of the intended attack. Government and people united their efforts to give the expedition every chance. It was well that telegraph and telephone were not to the front then.

But the pressure of public affairs could not keep hearts from being heavy over private griefs. Archdale was wounded both in his affection and his pride, for Katie had refused to marry him on the anniversary of that frustrated wedding, or, indeed, at all, at present. She said that it would be too sudden, that she must first have a little time to regard Stephen as a lover. "But I've never been anything else," he said. Katie insisted that she had been training herself to regard him as Elizabeth's husband. And to his reply that if she were so foolish, she must not make him pay for her folly, she asserted with spirit that no one had ever spoken so to her before. In truth, Lord Bulchester's assiduous humility did make the directness of Stephen Archdale seem like assertion to her; and Katie was not one to forget while she was talking with Stephen that if she chose to turn her head, there were the beauties of a coronet and of Lyburg Chase offered to her on bended knee. She had not turned her head yet. Stephen told himself that he was sure that she never meant to, but for all that, he was not quite sure that she would not do it almost without meaning it. He began by insisting that now Bulchester should be dismissed. But Katie declared that he should not be sent away as if she had lost her own freedom the moment of Stephen's return to her. She would send him away herself at least before she became Stephen's wife. To Archdale's representations of the cruelty of this course, she answered that Lord Bulchester had known of her engagement before he met her. If he could not take care of himself, why, then——. And Katie tossed her charming head a very little, and smiled at Stephen so winningly, and added that it would not hurt him, that he yielded, with as good a grace as he could, a position that he found untenable. So Archdale waited, and Bulchester kept his place, whether more securely or less Stephen could not tell.