Chapter II: Part 2

It is easy to account for the variations in the evidence taken before Mr. Nash, when we find from the statements of the parties that the distance at which the serpent was seen varied from thirty feet to one hundred and fifty yards. But there is agreement in the important points which clearly separate the animal described from all well-known fishes. The undulating vertical motion producing the appearance of humps upon the back, the small size of the body compared with its length, the sharp turns when the head and tail moved in opposite directions, the elevated head, and the protruding tongue, are more or less recognized in every description.

Let us now return to our friends, whom we have left at the old mill. It was the curiosity of Col. Perkins, who was already familiar with the water-snakes of the Indian Ocean, and strongly inclined to believe in the existence of the monster serpent, which led him, at the first reports from Gloucester, to plan this visit to the scene of the excitement. And in good truth he had planned it well, and had selected his time with that rare good luck which attended most of his mercantile operations. It had been a "field-day," so to speak, in Gloucester Harbor, the serpent having been visible, more or less, all the morning.

Looking out over the water, where boats were moving cautiously about, Rocky Neck and Ten-Pound Island on one side and the old fort on the other, our friends found that most of the points from which a good view could be obtained were occupied by spectators waiting for the sinuous monster, who was not long in making his appearance, and seemed to enjoy the occasion as well as his company.

Sometimes playing in wide circles, sometimes moving rapidly in a straight line, leaving a long wake behind him, he at length approached so near the lookout of our travellers that, with the Colonel's field-glass, they could easily see his snaky head, his open mouth, his gleaming eyes, and his protruding tongue.

One adventurous boatman, Mr. Matthew Gaffney, getting within some thirty feet, fired at him with his gun, carrying an eighteen-to-the-pound ball, and aiming full at his head. The monster turned, and sinking down like a rock, went directly under the boat, making his appearance a hundred rods off, apparently unhurt. He continued his playful gambols as before, finally moving off out of the harbor till he was lost in the distance.

Our friends now found themselves the objects of attention on the part of several gentlemen, who, hearing of their visit, had sought them out, in order to pay due respect to such distinguished visitors. Among them were Mr. Lonson Nash, the eminently respectable lawyer of the town, before whom were made the affidavits to which we have already alluded; Capt. Jack Beach, an eccentric gentleman of leisure, whose drawing of Gloucester harbor, with the serpent occupying a prominent position, was afterward enlarged into a painting, and subsequently engraved; and Col. William Tappan, landlord of the tavern where our friends were to dine.

The meeting between this last gentleman and Mr. Webster was one of unusual interest. Col. Tappan had been the instructor of Mr. Webster's youth at Salisbury in his native State, and was greeted with unaffected and hearty cordiality by his now eminent pupil. The future statesman had been the brightest boy in his school, so Master Tappan said, and among other well-earned rewards obtained a new jackknife for committing to memory a large number of verses from the Bible. After hearing sixty or seventy, with several chapters yet in mind, his instructor gave up the trial, and afterwards told the boy's father that he "would do God's work injustice if he did not send him to college."

In company with Col. Tappan and the other gentlemen, our travellers repaired to the tavern, which was near at hand, and enjoyed not only a good dinner, but much pleasant conversation in regard to the events of the week, varied with reminiscences of school days by the master and pupil.

But the waning afternoon soon warned them that an early departure was necessary if they were to reach their homes before dark. Their carriage was ordered, leave taken of their new acquaintances, as well as of the landlord, and with lingering looks at the now quiet scene of the day's excitement, they passed rapidly out of the town over the same road by which they entered it in the early part of the day.

Seen from the opposite side, each point in the home journey presented new beauties to add to the pleasant remembrances of the morning. The afternoon shadows gave a tender touch to the landscape, and a serious tone to the conversation, which, dealing reverently with the great problems of life and immortality, continued till the friends arrived at their homes in the early dusk.

Sixty-eight years have passed since the events which have been narrated, and the two friends whom we have followed through that beautiful August day have long since passed to their reward.

The shrewd, far-seeing, and successful merchant and public-spirited citizen, completing at the extreme old age of ninety a well-developed life, and leaving a reputation, not only without a stain, but adorned with the memory of numerous philanthropic and benevolent acts.

The able lawyer, after rising to the highest fame as a statesman and orator, passing away at threescore and ten, his latest years overshadowed by the grief of a disappointed ambition.

A few weeks before his death at Marshfield, in 1852, Mr. Webster presented to Colonel Perkins a copy of his published speeches, with the following written therein:--

"MY DEAR SIR,--If I possessed anything which I might suppose
likely to be more acceptable to you as a proof of my esteem
than these volumes, I should have sent it in their stead. But I
do not; and therefore ask your acceptance of a copy of this
volume of my speeches. I have long cherished, my dear sir, a
profound, warm, affectionate, and I may say a filial regard for
your person and character. I have looked upon you as one born
to do good, and who has fulfilled his mission; as a man without
a spot or blemish, as a merchant known and honored over the
whole world; a most liberal supporter and promoter of science
and the arts; always kind to scholars and literary men, and
greatly beloved by them all; friendly to all the institutions
of religion, morality, and education; and an unwavering and
determined supporter of the constitution of his country, and of
those great principles of civil liberty which it is so well
calculated to uphold and advance. These sentiments I inscribe
here in accordance with my best judgment, and out of the
fulness of my heart: and I wish here to record, also, my deep
sense of the many personal obligations under which you have
placed me in the course of our long acquaintance. Your ever
faithful friend,

DANIEL WEBSTER."

Should this dedication, truly as it portrays the excellent character of the person to whom it was addressed, seem to be redundant and overstated, let us remember that the writer, feeble and sorrowful, was penning his last words to his old and perhaps best friend, and its very extravagance at once assumes a childish pathos. The critical eye as it scans the record becomes dim with the sympathetic tear, and reads between the blurred lines only the passionate tribute of a broken spirit.

In the ample stairway of the Boston Athenaeum hang portraits of the two men,--that of Colonel Perkins, painted by Sully in 1833, is an exceedingly graceful presentation, and represents him at full length, carefully dressed, and seated in an easy attitude. The accessories are skilfully introduced, especially the large and exquisitely shaped china pitcher, which doubtless represents some gift received through his commercial relations with the East. The picture of Mr. Webster, also full length, was painted by Harding in 1849, and is an excellent likeness as well as a painting of much merit, though lacking the charming qualities of the other portrait.

During these sixty-eight years, great changes have come upon the little village of Gloucester, now grown to a city of more than twenty thousand people; its houses, then few and rude, have increased in number till the rocky hills are covered almost to their summits with the neat dwellings of its still hardy and adventurous population.

The old wind-mill, from whose vicinity our friends saw the monster snake, has given way to a summer hotel, whose occupants look out upon the beautiful bay and watch the incoming and outgoing of the fishing fleet of five hundred staunch schooners, manned by the bold mariners who seek their prey on "Georges," the Grand Banks, or the far waters of the Gulf of St. Lawrence; while the old fort, which never succumbed to a foe, has given way to the invasion of industry, till its grounds are covered and its walls obscured by buildings intended for occupation or labor.

And what during these sixty-eight years has befallen the enormous reptile, whose visit to Cape Ann called our friends to examine for themselves his claim to be the real Sea Serpent?

In what waters plays the sportive monster to-day? Did he return to the coast of Norway, where, according to the naturalists of the country, such as he live at the bottom of the sea, rising sometimes to the surface in summer, but plunging again as soon as the wind raises the least wave? Or did the bullet of Matthew Gaffney inflict a wound of which he afterwards perished in some submarine retreat?

The most cautious naturalists, while endeavoring to explain on various hypotheses the authentic appearances of marine monsters resembling serpents,--one theory being that they are abnormal cases of unusual growth of ordinary marine animals, and another that they are individuals of an almost extinct race,--are compelled to admit that the time may come when, with further evidence, scientific examination will accurately determine the question, and the Sea Serpent take its place among the acknowledged dwellers in the sea.

ATTLEBORO, MASS.

BY C. M. BARROWS.

When the Puritans removed from Charlestown to Trimountain in search of wholesome water-springs they found the ground preoccupied by Motley's "Hermit of Shawmut;" and when the godly people who discarded the musical Wannamoisett and gave their plantation a homely Bible name, joined to their borders the tract of wilderness lying between them and the Bay line, they found the same whimsical anchoret snugly domiciled in his "Study Hall" beside a stream that bounded their new possessions. Thus it happened that the first English inhabitant of Boston and the pioneer settler in the wilds of Rehoboth North Purchase were one and the same person.

For years this piece of unimproved real estate waited for a name, until, at length, for some unaccountable reason, it was christened after the English town where George Eliot attended Miss Lathom's school when a child, and caught a chronic cold, from the effects of which she seemed never to have quite recovered, and it was called Attleborough. The original purchase included a much larger area than that comprised in the present township; and, like the then adjacent domain of Dorchester, Attleboro parted with one section of land and then another, until its acreage to-day is but a fraction of that perambulated by the colonial surveyors. On the west side a triangle, locally known as the Gore, was set off in 1746 to form the town of Cumberland, R. I., while from the south and east sides were taken generous slices to piece out the towns of old Rehoboth, Mansfield, and Norton.

The history of Attleboro, like that of so many other New England towns, naturally divides itself into two widely different epochs, each interesting to the modern reader. From the year 1661, when Wamsetta, chief sachem of Pokanokett, made the original conveyance of the territory to Capt. Thomas Willett, representing the town of Rehoboth, until the close of the last war between this country and Great Britain, is a period rich in annals of men and deeds, whose records live on musty parchments and crumbling gravestones. It is crowded with tales of hardship, struggle, and heroism out of which some local Scott or Cooper with wizard hand might fashion many books of poetry or fiction:--

"And so, by some strange spell, the years,
The half-forgotten years of glory,
That slumber on their dusty biers,
In the dim crypts of ancient story,
Awake with all their shadowy files,
Shape, spirit, name in death immortal,
The phantoms glide along the aisles,
And ghosts steal in at every portal."

Then, after the primeval wilderness had been subdued under the patient tillage of more than one generation of sturdy farmers, there opens a second period extending to the present date,--busy years of modern industry, when the nervous spirit of enterprise and the restless fever for gain have stimulated brain and brawn to ceaseless endeavor.

It would be difficult for the present dwellers in the thriving villages of Attleboro to imagine a time when but a single white inhabitant had a fixed abode within the limits of Capt. Willett's extensive purchase, when Ten-Mile River had never reflected a pale face or turned a mill-wheel, and when the site of humming Robinsonville was occupied by a clump of Indian wigwams in a beaver clearing. The historic elm on the Carpenter estate, under which Whitefield preached so eloquently, had not yet sprouted from the seed; the falling leaves had scarcely obliterated the footprints of persecuted Roger Williams, making his toilsome retreat from the new settlement on the Bay to the headwaters of the Narragansett; and the Bay road was only an uncertain path blazed through a dense forest, along which not a hundred pairs of Anglo-Saxon feet had ever trudged.

In this vast solitude the intrepid William Blaxton had spent thirty lonely years before the original purchase was made. He built his rude house on the extreme western frontier of Attleboro Gore, beside the river which now bears his name with altered spelling, made friends with his Indian neighbors, planted the first apple-orchard in North America, and trained an imported bull to serve him as a saddle-horse. There, like Thoreau in his Walden hut, the old divine encountered nature in her rougher aspects and studied her wonderful book untrammelled by even the slight social conventionalities that obtained in colonial Boston.

The first settlement within the limits of the present town was made beside a stream which crossed the Bay road, on the site of the Hatch tavern, opposite Barden's building in North Attleboro; and because this stream marked a journey of ten miles from Seekonk, the early travellers named it Ten-Mile River. Here the famous John Woodcock took up his abode in 1663 or 1664, and established a garrison which afterwards formed one of a chain of strongholds extending from Boston to Rhode Island. An avowed foe of the red race who surrounded him, he found them hostile and treacherous, and had no recourse but to fortify himself behind his stockades, and keep the stealthy warriors at bay with his musket. At this dangerous outpost Woodcock bravely defended his little family for many years, until quite a community of white people had placed themselves under his protection, and he became a sort of feudal lord, into whose rude castle they might retreat in time of danger. He was a restless spirit, fond of hazardous adventure, to whom civilized life was unendurably tame, and many are the current traditions of his prowess and bloody encounters with the savage aborigines. In 1670 he opened a licensed ordinary on his premises, the first public house in the country; and from that time a hostelry was kept on that spot for nearly two centuries.

Other settlements were naturally made in the open meadows easily accessible from the Bay road; and so we find the next community growing up in what is now the Falls Village, where a corn mill was erected in 1686. Then a few new families, immigrating from Rehoboth, made themselves a home in the south part of the town; and near the close of the century settlers found their way down the winding Ten-Mile River, and built houses at Mechanics.

For obvious reasons the east precinct, as Attleboro-bred people are wont to call it, is the newest part of the town; the north and the south sections were traversed by the one thoroughfare then open as a highway between the home of the Puritans and the shores of Narragansett Bay, and for years after these began to number a very respectable colonial population, the now thickly settled area in the east village bounded by Peck, Pleasant, Pine, Capron, and Main streets, contained no buildings except the Balcom Tavern with its contiguous barn, a small dwelling-house near the present site of the old straw shop, and another house about forty rods further to the south.

Lying in the very heart of the Narragansett country, this town was constantly menaced by King Philip and his braves during the period of the Indian wars, and two of the bloodiest fights occurred within the limits of Attleboro Gore. The settlers found it necessary to go about their daily work armed, lest some red man skulking in the borders of the forest should attack and slay them. John Woodcock, the leading spirit among them, was a special object of savage hatred, and in the summer of 1676 he and his sons were surprised while at work in a field, and, before they could retreat within the garrison, one son was killed outright, and another was severely wounded.

On Sunday morning, March 26, 1676, Captain Pierce, who, with a company of sixty-three white men and twenty Cape Indians, was advancing upon the enemy, was surrounded by about nine hundred Indians at a point on the Blackstone not far from William Blaxton's house. With true Spartan courage he and his little band resolved to sell their lives at a high price; so forming a circle back to back, they made a desperate resistance for two mortal hours, and after they had fallen it was found that about three hundred of their cruel captors had perished with them.

In the same war another brutal butchery entailed upon another spot in the Gore just north of Camp Swamp the name of "Nine Men's Misery." There three triads of white soldiers, finding themselves surrounded by a large force of savages who had been lying in wait for them, placed their backs against a huge rock and fought like heroic knights in the old Arthurian days, until all were slain. Afterwards their nine bodies were buried in one wide grave, which was marked by a heap of stones; and many years later a company of young Boston physicians exhumed the bones, and one skeleton was identified as that of Bucklin of Rehoboth, because the jaws contained a set of double front teeth.

In the Revolutionary struggle Attleboro men bore an active and honorable part, and some of her noblest sons were under fire in the hottest engagements of the eight years' war. A respected citizen of the town recently told the writer that immediately after the battle of Bunker Hill, Caleb Parmenter, Thomas French, and Isaac Perry proceeded to Boston on foot, and joined the army then in command of General Ward; and the first of the three, on whom Governor Samuel Adams afterwards conferred a lieutenant's commission, was present at Cambridge when General Washington assumed charge of the army. A company of men was also raised in Attleboro for service at the siege of Newport, R. I., and in the engagement at Quaker Hill they pushed bayonets with the British three times in a single day, and two of their number, Israel Dyer and Valentine Wilmarth, were slain.

At an early date in the history of the town two taverns (already referred to) were established, which under successive proprietors flourished for many years, and acquired a wide reputation for abundant good cheer and excellent liquors. As model public houses of the time they were not inferior to the Punch Bowl at Brookline, Bride's in Dedham, or even the Wayside Inn in ancient Sudbury, made forever famous by Longfellow. Each in its way was

"A kind of old Hobgoblin Hall,
* * *
With weather-stains upon the wall,
And stairways worn, and crazy doors,
And creaking and uneven floors,
And chimneys huge and tiled and tall."

Hatch's Tavern, the older of the two inns, was John Woodcock's ordinary enlarged to meet the demands of the times. It stood on the identical spot where his garrison was planted, and until quite recently some of the logs that formed the ancient stockades might be found built into the older portion of the structure. In 1806 the original house was removed a few feet to the south to make room for a new tavern, and there it is still standing. The new house in which the original proprietor and landlord made his enviable reputation was needed to accommodate the increased public travel soon after the opening of the Norfolk and Bristol Turnpike, as described in an article entitled "From the White Horse to Little Rhody," and published in the first volume of this magazine. No house along the entire line of this once important thoroughfare dispensed a more generous hospitality or was presided over by a more genial host. It was twelve miles out from Providence, and a place where all the stages stopped to change horses, and allow passengers to partake of a breakfast, or some favorite beverage at the bar.

Somewhat later in the century Balcom's Tavern in the east part of the town sprung up, and was maintained for a long period as a popular house of resort. The original structure, enlarged and changed by successive additions, still stands on the corner of South Main and Park streets. Here have been entertained not only celebrities of the earlier days, but famous modern men, among whom might be mentioned Ralph Waldo Emerson, Wendell Phillips, and Oliver Wendell Holmes, who visited the town as lyceum lecturers. In 1852 this house was purchased by Dr. Edward Sanford, who remodelled and repaired it, and made it his own private residence for thirty years, when it passed into the care of tenants.

The proprietors who gave their names to these public houses were men quite widely known in their day, though for different reasons. Col. Hatch was emphatically a man of affairs, and full of business both public and private; wiser, perhaps, for this world than the next, he sought to become a political leader and office-holder among his townsmen. Col. Balcom on the contrary was a merry sporting-man, equally at home among gamblers and horse-racers, and in the society of gentlemen. He was politic and adroit, not lacking in good points, though he had conspicuous vices. The former kept a quiet, orderly, and eminently respectable house; the latter liked to entertain a jovial company, and enjoyed the fun too well to frown upon youthful pranks or hilarious conduct. Among many good anecdotes told of Col. Balcom, there is one very characteristic, and good enough to find a record here.

It is related that Parson Holman and other pious people of the village often sought to induce the colonel to reform his course of life and seek those things which concerned his eternal peace; but the wily landlord, while receiving them with a most gracious suavity, usually managed to evade the force of their appeals and frustrate their most serious efforts for the good of his soul. On one occasion, so runs the story, the deacons of the church made him a special visit, and, being ushered into the parlor, were given a patient audience while they pointed out the moral danger of his way of life, and besought him earnestly to reform. But presently the colonel was called out, and having obtained a short leave of absence ordered a flask of his best brandy carried in to the deacons, with sugar and glasses. Of course it was in entire accord with the custom of those days for the worthy pillars of the church to partake of the proffered beverage; and, on his return Col. Balcom said: "Now, gentlemen, let's take a drink, and then I'm ready to talk." So the deacons drank again. Scarcely had they picked up the lost thread of the conversation, however, when the landlord was once more obliged to excuse himself in order to attend to some urgent duty as host; and, in fact, several like interruptions occurred in the course of an hour. But in each case the imperturbable colonel returned with the same hearty words upon his lips: "Now, gentlemen, let's take a drink, and then I'm ready to talk." Then as the smooth brandy began to tell on the deacons, they gradually modified their estimate of the landlord's sins and their personal duty, until at length one of them rose from his chair and turning to the other said: "Waal, I guess Col. Balcom ain't the wust sort o' man in the world--come, brother, let's go home."

Although nature and circumstances would seem to have destined Attleboro for an agricultural town, its reputation rests chiefly on its mechanical industries, and during the eighteenth century there were several small cotton mills running in the place. As early as 1825, a traveller following the Ten-Mile River from the Wrentham line to where the stream slips into Seekonk on the other side of the town, would have found two cotton mills near where Whiting's jewelry factory now stands, a third near the site of the "Company's" shop, and still a fourth at Falls Village. Farther on he would have come upon the rude beginnings of the button factory which has flourished so long at Robinsonville; a nail factory at Deantown and another at the Farmers, as well as a cotton mill on the spot where the stove foundry now stands in the same village. Robert Saunderson's forge would have been blazing at Mechanics beside John Cooper's corn mill, and Balcom's machine shop in active operation where R. Wolfenden's sons now ply the trade of dyers. Hebronville also would then, as now, have greeted the visitor with the music of swift shuttles and whirling spindles, as he passed on to the end of his tour of inspection at Kent's grist mill, the oldest, probably, in the country.

These rude mills were the original sources of a progressive, ever-widening, material prosperity for which Attleboro is justly noted. Its people display great business thrift; its many commodious factories are crowded with skilled mechanics and trained artisans; and its abundant products are sold by men of enterprise in all the markets of the world. The farm and garden products of the town make a very respectable display at the annual local and county fairs; the textile and other manufactures would make no mean showing; but all these industries are eclipsed by the one business that absorbs the majority of labor and capital, namely, the making of jewelry.

It has been facetiously, sometimes sneeringly, remarked that the Attleboro jewelers are as nearly creators as finite beings can be, because they almost make something out of nothing, while the cheap trinkets they turn out by the barrel have to be hurried to market by rapid express, lest they corrode and tarnish before they can be disposed of. Such jests, however, convey a very erroneous and unfair notion of the real character of most of the work done in those large shops, and the amount of money invested in the business. It is true that grades of very poor jewelry are made in Attleboro, and it is equally true that most of the goods manufactured there are both costly and durable; it is not "washed brass" that goes to the trade with the stamp of those great firms upon it, but heavy rolled plate goods, containing such a thickness of fine gold that they may be deeply cut with the graver's tool, and will never wear down to the baser metal which it conceals. The curious and wonderful processes of this complex manufacture cannot be even hinted at in the space of such an article as this, and only an approximate estimate of the value of these products and the number of employes working upon them can be given in figures.

The census reports for the year 1880 enumerate the different manufactures of the town as artisans' tools, boots and shoes, boxes, brushes, buttons, carriages and wagons, coffin trimmings, cooking and heating apparatus, cotton goods, cotton, woollen, and other textiles, electroplating, food preparations, jewelry burnishing, lapidary work, leather, machinery, metallic goods, printing, bleaching, and dyeing. The capital invested in these industries is chiefly devoted to jewelry business, and is placed by the report at a total of $2,924,890; the products are valued at $4,345,809; and the number of employes is set at 3,378. But that census, though substantially correct when made, will not answer now; for, in the five years elapsed since it was taken, new factories have been built, new firms have started in business, and old ones have enlarged their trade.

The spirit of enterprise engendered by the large business interests in which the leading citizens are engaged is manifest also in the management of public affairs, and the town is noted for liberal expenditures of money in the way of substantial improvements. The public buildings, with the exception of two high-school houses recently erected, and the new Universalist Church in North Attleboro, a handsome brick structure, demand no special mention; but its system of abundant water supply and the provision made for an efficient fire department are standing advertisements that the town looks carefully after the health and protection of its citizens and their homes. For many years the Farmers and Mechanics Association has held an autumnal town fair, where in its ample grounds and halls are exhibited a fine display of farm stock, implements and produce, domestic and artistic handiwork, and manufactured goods of the trades. The grounds contain also a fine half-mile track, on which is annually made a showing of horses owned in Attleboro that would compare favorably with any other in the country. Another organization which attests the live, progressive spirit of the place is the Board of Trade, to which most of the leading business men belong. It was established in the spring of 1881, with commodious rooms and appointments on Washington Street, North Attleboro.

No town in Bristol county has provided more liberally for the education of youth than Attleboro, and in the larger centres a graded school system has been adopted; nor is it lacking in the appointed means of moral improvement, since there are within its limits no less than fifteen religious societies, holding regular Sunday services. Two weekly newspapers, the _Advocate_ and the ... are published in the place; there are also two national banks, one savings bank, and a savings and loan association.

Did space permit, it would be possible to single out from the many sons and residents of Attleboro, men who have become distinguished for learning and the public and private services they have rendered their fellow-men; but it must suffice here simply to remark that it is the crowning glory of the town to count among its citizens a large number of sagacious, sensible men of affairs, who have built up its manifold interests, and by personal enterprise and energy have secured for the place a large measure of material prosperity. Very early in its history the family names of these substantial men appear on the records of the town--Allen, Peck, Carpenter, Daggett, Robinson, Blackinton, May, Thacher, Richards, Capron, Ide, Wheaton, Bliss, and others,--names that stand for character, influence, thrift, and wealth. But these have no need of eulogy or praise, since every busy factory and every commodious home testifies to their worth; then let this sketch be concluded with a brief allusion to one whose simple record, though one of the curiosities of the town, and containing an epitome of instructive history, will excite no man's envy and pique no family pride.

In the old-burying ground in the north part of the town--the first cemetery in the region--is a headstone marking the grave of a pious negro slave, on which is rudely chiselled the following inscription:--

Here lies the best of slaves,
Now turning into dust;
Caesar, the Ethiopian, craves
A place among the just.

His faithful soul has fled
To realms of heavenly light,
And, by the blood of Jesus shed,
Is changed from _Black_ to _White_.

January 15, he quitted the stage,
In the 77th year of his age.
1780.

[From Christmas Wide Awake.]]

ART IN BOOK ILLUSTRATION.

BY CHARLES E. HURD.

Books, books, books! Their number, variety, gorgeousness of bindings, and wealth of illustration confuse the visitor who at this season wanders through the bookstores of a great city, whether aimlessly, or with the design of purchase. Books stare at him from the long rows of shelves; books are piled in reckless profusion upon the counters; they protrude from under the tables, as if vainly seeking to hide themselves there from insatiable buyers; they bulge through the broken paper of packages in corners; they crowd themselves into the windows, where the boldest and most gorgeous display themselves as if calling to the passers-by to come in and purchase.

One cannot help wondering, sometimes, where all these books come from. Who are their makers? What reason is there for their existence? Under what circumstances were they thrust upon the world? For, really, eight out of ten count as nothing in the literary race for fame or money. Either the publisher or the author--nowadays, as a rule, the latter--must suffer. The book--representative of the hopes, the wearisome labors, and, sometimes, of the brains of the author--leaps into being with the air of "Who will not buy me?" which soon changes into that of "Who will buy me?" and goes out finally to stand at the doors of the second-hand bookstores on a dirty shelf, to get its covers blistered in the sun, its binding dampened by the rain, all the while shamefully conscious of the legend displayed above,--"Anything on this shelf for 25 cents."

[From Childe Harold.]]

There are, however, books that achieve success, and that publishers thrive upon. Books that are "a joy forever," companions, counsellors, and friends, the value of whose printed pages is aided and added to by the hand of the draughtsman, and in which text and illustration harmoniously blend to make the perfect book.

It speaks well for the growing taste of the American public that these books, whose cost of manufacture often reaches many thousands of dollars, always meet with popular favor, and so exacting has the public taste become that no publisher of reputation dares leave a stone unturned in the carrying-out of any literary project in which illustration bears part.

[From Childe Harold.]]

It is only by putting the work of twenty years ago by the side of that of to-day that one can realize what wonderful strides have been made in every department of bookmaking, more especially in that of illustration. The art of wood-engraving has been carried, one could almost say, to perfection. In its marvellous capability of imitation it has, perhaps, lost individuality, but it has proved its adaptability to the production of the most diverse and beautiful effects. In the hands of artistic workmen,--for an engraver must nowadays be an artist as well as a workman,--a wood cut may imitate a true engraving, an etching, a mezzotint, a charcoal or crayon drawing, or even the wash of water color, or india ink. One with some theoretical knowledge of the art will find wonderful opportunities for study in some of the holiday volumes of the present season, which show the latest developments of the skill of the engraver, and the different methods of producing effects.

[From Childe Harold.]]

Let us stand here at the counter in one of our largest bookstores, and turn over the pages of a few of the books which lie nearest. First at hand is _Childe Harold_, the latest in that admirable series of gift books which includes _The Princess_, Owen Meredith's _Lucile_, and Scott's _Lady of the Lake_. How charmingly everything is balanced in the making of the book,--type, margin, binding, and what we are now specially considering, illustration. How full of atmosphere are the landscapes, and how clear and perfectly kept their values! Look at the exquisite little wood scene on page 123, with the foreground in shadow, and a bar of sunshine lying across the middle distance. And here, in a totally different subject, a view of Stamboul, where the engraver has had to deal with land, water, and sky,--how cleverly he has managed to bring each part of his picture into its proper relations with the others, and yet how simply it is done! Changing from landscape to figure, take the ideal head, "Ianthe," which one might imagine was drawn, feature by feature, from the portrait of Byron, which forms the frontispiece of the volume. It is an example of what perfect knowledge can achieve on the part of the engraver,--delicate and yet strong in its way, soft without being indistinct, every line being made to fulfil its purpose and nothing more.

[From Tuscan Cities.]]

Here is another volume from the same house, "Tuscan Cities," which shows the capabilities of wood-engraving in quite another direction. Some of the illustrations might absolutely be taken for etchings, so faithfully have the peculiarities of the artist been followed. Compare the treatment of "The Tower of the Mengia" with that of the pictures already mentioned, and mark the difference of effect.

[From Heroines of the Poets.]]

[From Ideal Poems.]]

[From Poems of Nature.]]

[_From "Songs of Seven."_]]

Here is another exquisite holiday volume,--"Heroines of the Poets,"--which will further exemplify what we have been saying. It has been made up of a series of pictures by Fernand H. Lungren, with accompanying text. Any single picture will serve as an illustration. For instance, this of Ellen, in "The Lady of the Lake," a subject of unusual difficulty, and requiring unusual skill for its proper management. It needs no second glance to see how perfectly the engraver has triumphed over his difficulties. Or, select at random any of the illustrations in this second volume from the same publishers, "Ideal Poems." One of the best, perhaps, is Henry Sandham's vigorous illustration of Browning's poem, "How they brought the good news from Ghent to Aix." The sunburst over the eastern hills, the cattle black against the light, the panting horses and their eager riders, and the rolling clouds of dust,--the character of each and all, as portrayed by the artist, is perfectly rendered.

[From The High Tide.]]

Elbridge Kingsley has acquired reputation for engraving directly from nature, without the intervention of brush or pencil. One may judge of the results of his work by the plates in Whittier's "Poems of Nature," issued as a special holiday volume the present season. The pictures vary in merit, but they all show what the skilled workman is capable of doing with block and graver.

Here is another volume of the season, an exquisite edition of "The Favorite Poems" of Jean Ingelow, from which we copy two pictures as admirably illustrating a phase of wood-engraving especially pleasing and attractive. The first, from "Songs of Seven," has the advantage of being a charming subject in itself, but the engraver has been as conscientious in his work as if he had no such aid, and the result is doubly satisfying to the eye. The other, from "The High Tide on the Coast of Lincolnshire," is equally gratifying and artistic.

[Wonderful Christmases.]]

RICHARD AND GAMALIEL WAYTE, AND SOME OF THEIR DESCENDANTS.

BY ARTHUR THOMAS LOVELL.

The records of Boston, beginning with the year 1633, and for many years thereafter, contain frequent references to Richard and Gamaliel Wayte, brothers, born in England, the former in the year 1596, and the latter in the year 1598. A writer in the _Boston Transcript_ (Dec. 6, 1874) makes the ancestry of these brothers common with that of Thomas Wayte, who was a member of the English Parliament in Cromwell's time, one of the judges who condemned Charles the First to death, and who signed the warrant for his execution. Be this as it may, the records show that the brothers Richard and Gamaliel were admitted to the church in Boston in 1634 and 1633 respectively, thus establishing the fact of their residence here at that early date. Tracing their history chronologically, the name of Gamaliel, the younger brother, appears first on the list of Freemen, in 1635. Nov. 30, 1637, he was disarmed because of his sympathy with the views of Mr. Wheelwright and Mrs. Anne Hutchinson. His occupation is inferred from the fact that in company with other fishermen he petitioned the court at Salem, Oct. 14, 1657, "for exemption from training in the fishing season." In 1670 he received from the General Court a grant of a half acre of land in Boston, on the south side of "Sentry Hill," to plant and improve; and in 1673 he was part owner of Long Island in Boston Harbor. Mention is made in 1677 of his son John, his daughter Deborah, and his grandchildren Ebenezer and Richard Price, the children of his daughter Grace. From an entry in the diary of Judge Sewell it is learned that he died suddenly, Dec. 9, 1685, aged 87 years.

His son John, born in 1646, after long experience as a member of the General Court of Massachusetts, was in 1684 made Speaker of the House of Representatives. He was eminent in his day among Boston business-men, was a witness to the will of Governor Leverett, was one of the sureties on the bond of Emma, widow and administratrix of the estate of Moses Maverick, of Marblehead, in 1686; succeeded to his father in the ownership of a portion of Long Island in Boston Harbor, and in 1694 sold "Beudal's Dock," then in his possession. His wife Emma (nee Roberts), upon his death in 1702, was appointed executrix of his estate.

From John, and other descendants of Gamaliel Wayte, are traced the Watertown, Medford, and Brookfield branches of the family, whose representatives are found in all parts of the United States. A memorial of the last named branch is found in the historic "Wait Monument" at Springfield, Mass., erected in 1763 to mark the old "Boston Road." It appears that Mr. Wait, mistaking his way at this point, nearly perished in a snow-storm, and erected this waymark for the benefit of future travellers. It is about four feet high, two feet broad, and one foot thick, and, beside Masonic emblems, bears two Latin inscriptions,--"VIRTUS EST SUA MERCES," and another, of which only the word "PULSANTI" remains. Beneath are the words,--

BOSTON ROAD.
THIS STONE IS ERECTED BY
JOSEPH WAIT, ESQ., OF BROOKFIELD,
FOR THE BENEFIT OF TRAVELLERS, 1763.

The stone is of a dark red, similar to the Long Meadow stone, and is supposed to have been cut by Nathaniel Brewer. By a singular coincidence, it marks the spot where the celebrated "Shay's Rebellion" culminated in an encounter between the insurgents and the Springfield militia under General Shepard, and bears upon its face the scars of the opposing bullets.

Thomas, one of the Malden descendants of Gamaliel, removed to Lyme, Conn., about the year 1700, where he married, in 1704, Mary Bronson, a granddaughter of Matthew Griswold, the ancestor of a family distinguished in American history. Remick, a grandson of the Thomas last referred to, married Susannah Matson, whose sister was the mother of Connecticut's noble war governor, Hon. William A. Buckingham. The first child of Remick and Susannah (Matson) Wait, born in Lyme, Feb. 9, 1787, was Henry Matson, who, when of legal age, restored to the name the final letter, which had been for some time omitted by many of the descendants of Gamaliel Wayte. Henry Matson Waite was fitted for college at the academy in Colchester, and graduated at Yale with distinction, in 1809. He studied in the office of Gov. Matthew Griswold, and his brother, Lieut.-Gov. Roger Griswold; became a lawyer of marked ability; was repeatedly made a member of the legislature; in 1832 and 1833 was a member of the state senate; in 1834 was made associate of the supreme court of Connecticut; and in 1854, by the almost unanimous vote of the legislature, was elevated to the position of chief justice. He held this office until 1857, when he retired, having reached his seventieth year, the legal limit as to age. He died Dec. 14, 1869, full of years and full of honors. His wife, married in 1816, was Maria, daughter of Col. Richard Selden, of Lyme, and granddaughter of Col. Samuel Selden, of the revolutionary army. By her he had eight children. The first born of these was Morrison Remick, the most distinguished of the members of this old and honorable family.

Hon. Morrison Remick Waite, LL.D., Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court, was born in Lyme, Conn., Nov. 29, 1816. He graduated with distinction from Yale College in 1837, in a class which included Hon. William M. Evarts, Edwards Pierrepont, and Prof. Benjamin Silliman, Jr., and began the study of law in his father's office. He finished his studies, preparatory to admission to the bar of Ohio, in the office of Samuel M. Young, in Maumee City, in that state, and, on his admission, formed a partnership with Mr. Young. In 1840 the firm removed to Toledo, and there continued their law-partnership until Mr. Waite's youngest brother, Richard, who graduated at Yale College in 1853, was admitted to the bar, when the brothers formed a new partnership, which existed until the senior partner received his present appointment. He was married Sept. 21, 1840, to Miss Amelia C. Warner, a resident of his native town. He received the degree of LL.D. from Yale College in 1872, and, a year prior to his appointment as chief justice, was admitted to the bar of the United States Supreme Court, on motion of Hon. Caleb Cushing, whose name was subsequently spoken of in connection with the office of chief justice. It was not until 1849 that Judge Waite, as he was called by courtesy, occupied a public position. He was then elected a member of the Ohio House of Representatives for the sessions of 1849 and 1850. Although frequently urged to allow the use of his name as a candidate for Congress, and other positions, he subsequently declined to hold office. On two or three occasions, he was offered a position on the supreme bench of his adopted state, offers which he also declined. The esteem in which he was held by the citizens of Ohio is marked by the fact that he was unanimously chosen as the representative from Toledo in the Ohio Constitutional Convention in 1874, of which body he was made president.

In 1871, as is generally known, Mr. Waite was appointed one of the counsel in the matter of the Alabama claims, to prepare the case of the United States and present the same before the Court of Arbitration at Geneva. While the most prominent part was assigned to the senior counsel, Mr. Cushing, it is the opinion of those familiar with the arguments, including Mr. J. C. Bancroft Davis, that Mr. Waite contributed in a very large degree to the success of the case of the United States, and thus to the peaceful settlement of long standing and bitterly contested questions of the gravest national concern. A writer in the Boston Evening _Transcript_, date of Dec. 6, 1874,--Mr. A. H. Hoyt, to whom we are indebted for many of the facts here recorded,--very accurately describes the characteristics of the chief justice at that time as follows: "He has the reputation of possessing a vigorous intellect, which very readily and clearly grasps the facts and the law of a case. He has a sound and well-balanced judgment and a large share of practical common sense. He is blessed with robust health, is industrious in his habits, and possesses an equable temper. His appointment was not prompted by motives of party or political policy. He will enter into his office untrammelled by close political alliances, and free from the biases and prejudices engendered and fostered by party spirit and party contests." The truth of these words has been more than proven by the dignity, ability and impartiality with which Mr. Waite has filled his high office,--an office in the esteem of many the most important and honorable in the gift of the American people. In Washington, as in Toledo, Mr. Waite's home is one of unostentatious comfort rather than elegance, commendably in contrast with those of many men at present prominent in political circles at the national capital. His home and private life may be said, in brief, to present a notable example of the simplicity, quiet dignity, and domestic virtues which should characterize the home and life of a republican citizen in exalted station. Those who have enjoyed familiar acquaintance with him speak of him as affable, thoroughly unaffected, as a good conversationalist, well informed in history, literature, philosophy, and the sciences, and as a close student of social, financial, and all political questions of the day. His interest in these respects is evidenced by his connection with the management of the "Peabody Fund," as a trustee, and with the important non-partisan movement in the direction of political education recently inaugurated by the American Institute of Civics, a corporate institution, national in scope, of whose advisory board he is president.

Judge Waite was married to Miss Amelia C. Warner, of Lyme, Conn., Sept. 21, 1840. Mrs. Waite is a woman of fine mind, engaging manners, and great force of character, and is in every way worthy of the position in life to which her husband's distinguished abilities have exalted her. Of their living children all save one--Miss Mary F. Waite, highly esteemed because of her personal qualities and her deep interest in philanthropic and charitable work--have gone forth from the home roof to occupy honorable positions in homes of their own. Judge Waite and family are communicants and active co-operators in the work of the Protestant Episcopal church.

We have traced the descent of the Hon. Morrison R. Waite to Remick, a grandson of Thomas and Mary Bronson Wait, of Lyme. Among other grandsons of Thomas was Marvin, who became a noted member of the Connecticut bar, having his office in Lyme, where he was a partner of Gen. Samuel Holden Parsons, a nephew of Gov. Matthew Griswold. Marvin Wait was a member of the electoral college chosen after the war, and cast his vote for Washington. He was nineteen times made a member of the Connecticut General Assembly, was several years judge of the county court, and was one of the commissioners for the sale of the state's land in the northwestern territory. Judge Marvin Wait was the father of that honored citizen of Connecticut, Hon. John T. Wait, LL.D., who was born in New London, and graduated at Washington (now Trinity) College, Hartford, in 1842, held the office of state attorney in 1863, headed the electoral ticket cast for Lincoln in 1864, was elected to the state Senate in 1865, and in 1866 presided over that body. In 1867 he was speaker of the national House of Representatives, and from that time to the present has been almost regularly returned to that body, where he has a recognized position as one of the ablest, most upright, and most influential of its members. He is familiarly known in New London, where, with his family, he has always resided, as "Colonel Wait," and is not merely esteemed, but beloved, by his fellow-citizens of all parties and creeds.

From these notes concerning Gamaliel Wayte and his descendants we now turn to his elder brother Richard.