Chapter II: Part 2

As to the place of Otis in the early colonial history of America it is somewhat difficult to state it. His influence as the leader and exponent of popular opinion was undoubtedly very great so long as it lasted, and in the main it was beneficial. If, like many another great moral and political force, he accomplished something entirely different from what he intended, both what he intended and what he actually accomplished were equally a credit to him. Some of his contemporaries thought that his courage, his eloquence, his pure and undiluted patriotism, had a serious drawback in the irrepressible fire and vehemence of his nature; but passion enters largely into the composition of all noble natures, and is, in no inconsiderable degree, the secret of their success. Otis was certainly wanting in some of the elements of greatness displayed by the most distinguished of his contemporaries and compatriots. His style of statemanship was not so far-seeing, comprehensive, and solid as that of a Samuel Adams, a Thomas Jefferson, a John Dickenson, or a Benjamin Franklin, and it certainly lacked the Machiavellian coolness and argumentativeness of a Hutchinson. But what Otis accomplished was impossible to any of them. His work was quite unique in its way, and his public life and action have produced results as valuable and lasting as the public labors of any of the noble men who devoted without stint their best thought and energies to laying down, deep, strong, and enduring, the foundation-stones of the American Republic.

A ROMANCE OF KING PHILIP'S WAR.

BY FANNY BULLOCK WORKMAN.

CHAPTER I.

One bright afternoon early in the month of June, 1676, a young girl stood leaning against the trunk of a tree, gazing into the waters of the beautiful Lake Quinsigamond. Her head rested heavily on her hand, as if weighed down by the burden of despair. Suddenly she started, uttering a slight cry, then sank back against the tree with a sigh of relief as she recognized a tall young Indian who approached her.

"Ah! is it you, Ninigret?"

"Yes, Millicent; fear not, there is no foe near; and if there were I would protect you. Why do you tremble so?"

"Is it strange I tremble at the least noise, when the sound of a footstep or the rustling of a leaf may mean instant death to me? The forest is full of enemies. They lurk in every by-path. Behind every bush or fair spreading tree may be seen their leering faces. What, then, has a poor captive girl to expect of their mercy?"

"Do not I and those of my tribe here protect you? Have I not already saved you from death at the hands of a roving Indian?"

"You have; perhaps only for a worse fate. Death, indeed, would be no worse than a future of such captivity; for though you will save me from the violence of the red men, neither you nor your associates will liberate me. Ah, Ninigret! why are you so in the power of that tyrant, Philip? Why will you not brave him, he is so far from here now, and take me to a white settlement? I promise you no harm shall come to you. You shall return unhurt to your people."

"Do you not remember that Wattasacompanum has promised to keep you in safety until Philip is ready to have you ransomed? Have you forgotten the solemn rites by which he bound himself the day they brought you to us? Wattasacompanum is a good chief, a true Indian, who will not break his promise."

"Then, Ninigret, I appeal to you, who have made no promise for me, to help me to escape to my countrymen."

"I cannot do that; but I will take you to a place of safety, though it may be a long, long journey from here. Say, Millicent, will you come with me?"

"Go with you, Ninigret, in any direction other than to a white settlement?" replied Millicent, turning her wondering blue eyes full upon him. "Even if such a thing were possible, where would you take me? Where and how in this time of war?"

"Beyond the reach of the present strife, until Philip has driven the white men from our country. I cannot take you to the whites, for they will soon be swept from the land. They are much broken up already. Philip is a mighty chief, and has powerful friends among the Indians."

"Can it be so? No, no; the Indian may do harm and cause suffering, but surely the white race cannot be exterminated."

"Yes, it can, Millicent; as when, in the spring, the warm sun melts the snow, causing it to disappear from the dark earth, so will the white men vanish from this country, leaving the red men in possession."

"I cannot believe it. Yet how can a poor creature like me, a captive in the forest, cut off from all communication with her friends, know what is the real state of affairs outside? In the long months since I was taken captive rumors have come to me of one town after another being destroyed or abandoned. Alas! what else may not have happened? Yes, it is doubtless true. O my God! is it then to be my fate to be held in life-long bondage, without a friend to whom I can turn?"

"I will be your friend; come with me. I will take you away from here, where you are so unhappy, I will make a home for you. We will live together. You shall be my wife."

"Your wife!" and Millicent, deadly pale, clung closer to the tree.

"Yes, why not? I am brave and strong; I would guard you from all evil, and would make you happy. What better have you to hope? Why await Philip's pleasure? You say you have no rich friends to ransom you. If not, he will marry you himself, and he would not be as kind as I. He is a hard master."

"I marry you, or Philip?" the young girl murmured, with a look of dreary terror on her face; then, as if to herself, "In fairy tales, as a child, I read of maidens marrying kings, and wished I were the heroine of such a tale; but little did I dream that such a king might some time be offered me for a husband." And she dropped her head upon her arm.

"Do not look so unhappy. Philip is, in truth, no husband for you; but I am different, and do not hate the white race as he does. He is a fierce warrior, while I wish but to live in peace, to have you for my wife." The Indian drew nearer to Millicent. His dark hand stretched forth to grasp her slender white wrist, his black eyes flashing with entreaty. "I am not like the others of my tribe you see about here; I am more civilized; I speak your language; I have the last year embraced your religion. I vowed to you I would not lay hands upon one of your race to hurt them while you were amongst us. That I have sacredly kept this vow you well know; but you do not know what it has cost me at times, when I have seen the bitter cruelty shown by your race toward mine. All this I would do willingly for you; will you not then be my wife and love me a little?"

The young Indian spoke with a modesty and manliness so remarkable in a son of the forest that Millicent was impressed with his manner, and in her reply tried to show consideration.

"You are an exception to your race, Ninigret, and have always acted honorably toward me. I thank you for all you have done; and, if God ever restore me to my countrymen, I will show my gratitude in more substantial form than mere words. Marry you I never can; think of it calmly, and you will see that it is impossible; such a marriage would only bring misery to us both."

"You scorn me I see," Ninigret said, quickly, growing angry. "I tell you we should be happy."

"Indeed, we should not; from this on you must never mention this subject to me."

"You cannot put me off so easily. What do I care for the kindness you may show me after you leave here? But you will not leave here very soon, let me tell you, unless you marry me. In that case you shall escape in a few days."

"Then I shall never escape," replied Millicent, a bright flash of determination suffusing her fair face.

"Your only answer then is No?"

"No; I will never be your wife."

"And I say you shall. Farewell! We will meet again." And all the latent savage nature gleamed forth from his face as he swiftly and noiselessly disappeared into the forest.

Millicent, overcome with emotion, sank listlessly on the ground, where she remained for some time with her head bowed upon her knees, regardless of the beauty of the scene about her. Above, the sky was cloudless, a deep impenetrable blue, as seen through the heavy foliage of the grand primeval forest. At her feet stretched the calm, smooth lake, dotted here and there with tiny islands, so thickly wooded that they looked like escaped bits of the forest floating on the glassy surface of the water. For miles stretched the line of the shore, here straight, there gracefully curving, and everywhere heavily overhung by majestic trees. After a time she raised her eyes, and, stretching her hand with a hopeless gesture toward the lake, said, "Better to drown in that quiet water than to remain longer with these savages, now that Ninigret has turned foe also, and I have no friend to help me."

"Let me be a friend to help you," replied a manly voice close by.

Surprised and astonished Millicent sprang to her feet, and saw standing before her a tall, handsome man of perhaps five and thirty years, dressed in uniform.

"O sir! can I really hope that you will help a poor, distressed captive girl?"

"Of course I will," he answered, moving near to her. "First tell me the circumstances of your captivity and"--

"Hush! do not speak so loud, or they will hear us and take you prisoner also. Come this way," said Millicent, as she led him to a thick clump of trees near at hand. "A short distance from here, on yonder hill, is an Indian camp, which has been my home for many months."

"How large is the encampment?" asked the young man, looking with interest and admiration at the poorly clad but refined and beautiful girl by his side.

"When all are there they number about one hundred; but at present most of the warriors are away."

"Where is your home?"

"I have no home. I am an orphan, and with my sister was visiting friends in Taunton, at the time the Indians attacked that place."

"Ah! Tell me the story of your capture."

"I will if you care to hear it. Upon the breaking out of the war, my friends, like others, became alarmed, and adopted such means of defence as they could command; still, when Philip really appeared with his Indians, they were surprised. Ah, sir, even you, who I see are an officer, and probably used to such sights, would have been touched by the misery and desolation those wretches caused on that day. They fired the house we were in, and when we were driven by the flames to the open air, they assailed us; and then I saw my friends struck down about me. An old woman, a mother, three daughters and a son, all brutally killed. Then they seized me, more dead than alive. A fierce Indian, with a yell, raised some weapon in the air, while holding me fast with the other hand; but his uplifted arm was suddenly grasped by a stalwart and gayly dressed chief, whom I soon learned was King Philip. Although nearly overcome with terror, I heard him say, 'She is too'"--

"Beautiful to be killed," added the officer.

"Well, yes, I suppose that was the idea. 'Take her captive.' They bound my arms to my sides and carried me away. I fainted at that point, and when I came to myself was on horseback, supported by a horrible old squaw."

"Poor girl! how did you survive such a shock?"

"I do not know, for I was ill with fever throughout the journey; but am I not wearying you with the history of a girl who has surely no claim upon you?"

"You have a claim, dear lady; the unfortunate have always a claim upon any honorable man; besides, I am deeply interested in your story. Please proceed."

"We travelled slowly on for several days, resting at night. The shock, the mode of life, and, above all, the anxiety about my sister, of whose fate I knew nothing, made me ill and unfit for the rough journey. When I failed and fainted, as I did several times, they beat me and knocked me about, making me walk when utterly unable, as a punishment for my laziness, they said. At last, when they saw I could go no farther on my feet, they strapped me on a horse's back, where I lay, half delirious and without food, until we reached this place."

"What an experience for one so delicate!" remarked the officer, looking at Millicent with increasing interest.

"We arrived here late one night, and then an old squaw, who has ever since been kind to me, took me to her wigwam and made me as comfortable as she could. I shall never forget the relief it was to lie quiet, if only on a bed of pine-boughs."

"You must have had fortitude to have lived through such a mental and physical strain. How did they happen to bring you here?"

"That night, when they thought I slept, I overheard the leader of the band that brought me talking with Wattasacompanum, the chief of the Nipmucks. He said Philip had ordered them to bring me here, and sent a message that I should be kept and well treated until he should see fit to have me ransomed. Wattasacompanum, who is a good chief and a praying Indian, promised that I should be faithfully guarded. The next day, before Philip's messengers departed, I was carried outside the wigwam, where the Indians danced a wild, fantastic war-dance about me, to the music of their own strange screaming. I lay trembling with fright, until the old squaw came out and sat by me, somewhat quieting my fears by repeating, 'They no kill you; they no kill.' They wished to paint my face and decorate my head with branches, but Wattasacompanum said no, that being ill I should not be disturbed. He laid his hand on my head, and solemnly promised to safely keep me; and after that the strange Indians departed."

"What did they do for you to bring back your health?"

"Very little. I was allowed to rest for a time, was not treated very harshly, and nature did the rest."

"What food did you have?"

"Ah, that was the worst trial; for days I ate almost nothing. I could not touch the meat they kept constantly boiling in a great common kettle, which all could go to, but I soon learned to eat a sort of cake they make of Indian corn, and when stronger I wandered about and found berries and dried nuts for myself; but I have never been strong since I came here."

"That does not surprise me. Such a life for one like you! Have they always treated you well?"

"No, they are often very rough; but the women are kinder than the men, who, fortunately for me, are away upon the war-path the greater part of the time, returning only occasionally for a night."

"What work do they require of you?"

"I first bring up water from the lake in the morning,--that tires me most,--then I help cook their food, and do whatever is necessary in an Indian household,"--and Millicent smiled,--"and I sew for the women and children."

"The wretches! why don't they bring their own water from the lake, and make their own clothes?"

"I would willingly do all they ask could I but know that I may soon be free to look for my sister, and be among my own race again."

"We will see about that. You must not do drudgery for these savages much longer. Have you no relatives with whom it may be possible your sister is now?"

"None; the family whom we were visiting when I was captured were our only relatives. My sister was out at the time on an errand in the town; so you see I do not know whether she was killed or captured, undoubtedly one or the other. My name is Millicent Gordon; hers, Martha. Now, sir, you have my history, and I wish to thank you for your kind attention. It has done me good to relate it to you, for you are the first white man whom I have seen for many months."

"My dear lady, your story has interested me deeply and aroused in me both sincere admiration and sympathy for one who has suffered so much and so bravely. My one thought is to liberate you."

"Can you really do so? Is the country, then, not all given over to the Indians? Oh, tell me it is not!"

"No, indeed; they are being steadily and surely conquered; though, God knows, they do enough damage even now. I am Captain Merwin, sent here from Boston on a scouting expedition. I have two men with me, who are awaiting my return less than a mile off. I wandered in this direction while they were resting. I knew there were many Indians roving about; but that there was a camp in this vicinity I was not aware."

"They suppose their existence here to be unknown to the whites."

"I wonder they trust you as far as this."

"They do; I always return. They know I am unable to escape, and would be found and brought back if I tried; so they grant me my only solace, that of wandering in the woods."

"This time they have trusted you once too often. Will you go with me, and let me take you back to your friends?" asked the captain, impulsively.

"I would go with you most willingly; but would the venture not be too rash? Would it not endanger your own safety and that of your men, who might escape harm alone, but, impeded with a woman, you might lose your lives while saving hers. No, I had better stay where I am. You can be of more service without me," answered Millicent, with quiet forethought.

"Not for a moment would I consider myself in the matter, Miss Gordon," replied the captain, with prompt assurance; "but perhaps it is not best to attempt to rescue you until I have secured more men." He remained silent a few minutes, apparently in deep thought, and said, at last, very decidedly, "No; in case we met even a small band of Indians we should be unable to resist, and they would surely recapture you or kill us all at once. If you will have a little patience, and still trust me, I promise to return and liberate you as soon as I can get men."

"Yes, I trust you wholly; and, as for patience, the hope of rescue will make it infinite until you come," said Millicent, smiling.

"Thank you for your trust; it shall not be misplaced. Be prepared at any time after a week for an attack upon the camp, and this time the war-cry will come from friends instead of enemies. May I do homage to the fair hand that has carried water to quench the thirst of an Indian squaw?" Before the blushing Millicent could deny the favor he had pressed her fingers to his lips.

"I must return now, or they will look for me. See, the sun sets already."

"I will go part way with you, as I wish to observe the situation of your present home."

"Abode, not home," Millicent said, half-jestingly. "Yes, come with me, but tread softly or you may be heard," and she led the way through the wood. Upon reaching the brow of the hill she halted, and, placing her hand on the captain's arm, said, "Look through these trees into the clearing yonder." He did so, and saw a number of wigwams, with smoke curling out from their tops, and, sitting about on the ground outside, several women, and one or two old men.

"And there you have lived for nearly a year; but it is late; I must leave you. Be of good courage, and believe that never a crusader felt his pledge to visit the Holy Land more sacred than I do mine to liberate you;" and, lifting his hat with deference, he withdrew into the forest.

The scene above described carries the reader back to the time of the fierce and devastating war waged by King Philip against the settlers of New England, in which all the worst elements of the Indian nature came to the surface. The firebrand and the tomahawk were the weapons employed by the Indians to accomplish their purpose of destroying the advancing power of the white man; and so mercilessly did they use these that the outposts of civilization were swept away as by a whirlwind. The savages, avoiding direct conflict with organized forces of the English, made sudden and unsuspected attacks, under cover of darkness, upon exposed houses or towns, applying the torch to the buildings, and massacring the inhabitants or carrying them into captivity. Neither the life nor property of a white man was safe for an instant. While sitting quietly by his fireside or working in his cornfield, he was liable to instant death at the hands of an unseen foe. In such a condition of affairs it is not surprising that spots, where of late the influence of civilization had begun to make itself felt, were abandoned by their terror-stricken inhabitants. Thus, for a while, the rude savages again appeared as rulers of the land, and the forest often resounded with their war-cry as they fell on one partly-deserted town after another, and their yells of triumph rang on the hushes of midnight as they returned from their fiendish expeditions of plunder waving aloft the scalps of their victims. For a year or more this bloody war lasted, bringing death and desolation to many homes, until its guiding hand and vital breath, King Philip, was struck down, killed by one of his race.

[TO BE CONCLUDED IN NEXT ISSUE.]

THE SINGER.

[FROM THE GERMAN OF GOETHE.]

BY LAURA GARLAND CARR.

"Outside the gate, what do I hear
Along the drawbridge sounding?
A song! Now let it reach my ear
Through palace-halls resounding!"
So speaks the king; the small page flies;
The lackey comes; the message hies;
The old man comes, low bowing.

"These noble lords have welcomed me;
These fair dames give me greeting.
What heavenly kingdom do I see
With star-gleam, star-gleam meeting!
Such splendor, pomp, and wealth allied,
Desire must here rest satisfied,
While Time forgets his speeding!"

He pauses now; now strikes in song
Full toned, of pleasing phrases.
Each knight grows proud in look, and strong;
Dames blush at fancied praises.
The king, for whom the songs awake,
As fair return the bard to make--
A golden chain upraises.

"Oh give to me no gift of gold!
Such to your knights deliver,
Before whose faces, stern and bold,
The foe's best lances shiver.
Or let some chancellor of state
This gift receive, a treasure mete,
Fit token from wise giver.

"I sing as some free wild bird sings,
Among green branches swinging.
The song that from the throat outrings
Its own reward is bringing.
But may I beg a gift of thine?
Then give to me of rare old wine
In golden beaker, brimming."

They bring it in; he drinks it up.
"O drink--sweet, strength-bestowing!
O happy house--where one may sup
With such wealth ever flowing!
Thank God--you share with me a part!
It stirs my brain; it warms my heart!
I go with new life glowing."

[Webster Historical Society Papers.]

THE WEBSTER FAMILY.

BY HON. STEPHEN M. ALLEN.

I.

The family of Webster, which settled on the easterly coast of Massachusetts and New Hampshire, became quite numerous, and emigrated to the various parts of western New Hampshire as early as 1763. Stephen Webster was one of the twelve pioneers of the town of Plymouth, N.H., in which, with other settlers of the backwoods, they had to endure great privations and hardships.

The three Webster families which settled and remained in Plymouth always claimed Daniel and Ezekiel of Salisbury as first or second cousins.

I quote from Moore Russell Fletcher, M.D., who was connected with the Webster family on both sides, the following narration. He says that Mrs. Stephen Webster and her sons and daughters, the youngest of whom was Mrs. Betsey Fletcher Webster,--the mother of the doctor, and who died in 1863, at the advanced age of eighty-one,--gave him much of his information.

"Stephen Webster, with eleven others, with their wives and children, went from Chester, N.H., to Plymouth, N.H., then a wilderness, about forty-five miles north of Penacook, now Concord, and there, on the Pemigewasset, near the juncture of Baker's River (afterwards so called), they erected a log-cabin, in that hitherto transient abode of the wild animals of the forest and the still wilder Indians, who at intervals passed through the place on their way to Penacook, Contoocook, Hooksett, Suncook, and Soucook, their old camping-grounds. These men, having selected lands for farms, had no alternative but to carry on their backs the articles of food, implements and seeds requisite for their colonization. They had axes, saws, augers, and shaves, or drawing-knives, and for protection and food their guns and ammunition; not forgetting their bibles, hymn-books, and tinder-boxes. In their journey through the wilderness from Penacook, a distance of sixty or seventy miles, they were guided by blazes on trees made by surveyors or men in search of lands, were obliged to cross streams on fallen trees reaching from bank to bank, and when hunger and fatigue compelled a halt, they selected a spot near some stream, drew forth their tinder-boxes, and with steel and flint struck a fire; then they selected flat stones, wet some Indian meal, placed it on the stones, and baked it for their frugal meal--their 'Johnny-cake.' At night they constructed a little booth of bushes, with their fire at its entrance, and, as they laid upon the boughs, their feet would be near the fire,--a great protection against wild animals who infested the forest and who are known to have great dread of fire.

"Each day was a repetition of its predecessor. Upon their arrival their first efforts were directed to erecting a temporary wigwam of trees and bushes in their new home, and all reposed on the boughs, prior to which all joined in prayer and thanksgiving for their safe arrival and good health. On the morrow, after locating the spot for buildings, they began the erection of their log-houses, with one room, with opening for light, and an attic, which was accessible by a small ladder. The crevices between the logs were stopped with moss; the floor of the rooms, roofs, and the attics and doors were of small poles. A few days were sufficient to get their houses in the rough well under way. For food all had equal rights and took an equal part in procuring it. Three or four took dog and gun, and in an hour or two returned with a dead moose, bear, or three or four deer on their shoulders. They subsisted largely upon game, which was plenty in the forest, and when a change was desired they sought fish, with which the streams abounded.

"A few months after their arrival, Mrs. Stephen Webster signified her expectation of adding another member to her family. It was a matter deemed of such importance that a town meeting was called, a moderator and clerk chosen, and the vote put to the meeting upon the name which should be given to the new-comer, which vote was unanimous 'if a boy his name shall be Plymouth.' But their vote did not prevent its being a girl, and she was called Lydia, with the remark, 'the first white child born in Plymouth.'

"Upon one occasion, food being nearly exhausted, a settler took a bag, went to Concord, got one hundred pounds of Indian meal, took it on his shoulder, and carried it to Plymouth, sleeping on boughs, and baking his corn-cake on a flat stone. His arrival was hailed with enthusiasm. When tired of moose and bear meat they tried deer, rabbit, coon, and turtle, then turned to salmon, eels, and pouts. For dessert they had chestnuts, beech-nuts, and butternuts, and for drink they used the checkerberry and hardhack, but mostly they used mountain tea and swamp chocolate-root; these two last-named articles nearly resembled those brought from foreign countries. They raised flax, and with it made their clothing for both men and women. For coats and outer garments they doubled and redoubled the threads, the cloth resembling our present canvas. Linen was found to be cold for stockings and socks, and their inventive talent was brought into use. They cut hair from the bear-skins and mixed it with tow, and thus Bruin furnished them meat, cotton, and wool.

"After a few years of roughing it the settlers began to reckon on some of the luxuries of civilization, and indulged in windows, each allowing two panes of glass 7 X 9. Their fireplaces and chimneys were built of flat stones for the first few feet, and were 'topped out' with clay, mixed with straw, and held by sticks of wood laid up cob-house fashion. The same kind of chimney may now be seen in the rural districts of Canada, New Brunswick, and Nova Scotia. In many places the fireplace and chimney stand outside of the house, and the fireplace is wide enough to burn wood ten feet long. The wood requires but little chopping or splitting. For andirons they used large stones. When the children wanted to warm themselves they stood at the corner at the ends of the wood.

"They made their furniture, hewing planks from logs for tables, and for a tub chopped off the end of a log, dug a hole through it, leaving only a shell, in which, with a jackknife, they made a groove for the bottom, which also was hewn from a piece of log. The shell of their tub was then soaked with hot water, to enlarge its circle; the plank bottom was then crowded into the groove, and the tub dried before the fire. If not water-tight, the openings were filled with rags. For chairs they took tops of trees with many limbs, split them into two parts, and the limbs answered for legs. Their crockery, much of it, was made of hard wood: from knarls they made trays, bowls, pans, plates, and sometimes spoons, knives, and forks. Instead of candles they used pitch and candle woods. My grandfather, had in his house wooden trays, bowls, plates, and wooden spoons.

"When the number of inhabitants had increased so that it was called a village, earthen plates and pewter plates and iron spoons were brought into town from the town and larger settlements. Men carried the flax wheel on their backs, and their mechanical skill enabled them to construct looms.

"As the settlement increased in number, and the people began felling trees, the Indians, who from time to time passed there on their way to Penacook, Contoocook, Hooksett, etc., seeing the whites encroaching upon their lands, began their maraudings and became so troublesome, that the settlers regarded it as no sin to kill a redskin who was known to watch about for an opportunity to secretly send an arrow with deadly intent at their white brothers whenever they ventured beyond the limits of their little settlement.

"There was one, Mr. Baker, whose delight was, we learned of the Indians,--being at their camping-ground, near the union of what is now Baker's River with the Pemigewasset River, about a mile above Plymouth,--to take his gun, as he termed it, and play hide-and-seek with the redskins. His scouting about would seem to be known, and an Indian would come out to spy his enemy, hiding from tree to tree. Baker did the same, and as each peeped for the other Baker placed his hat on the muzzle of his gun, and held it so that the Indian saw, as he thought, a white man's head. Then he sent an arrow whizzing through Baker's old hat, and, seeing it fall, stepped out to finish his foe by raising the hair, when Baker sent a slug through the redskin. Soon another Indian came peeping from trees to learn the cause of that report and the fate of his chief. In a few minutes Baker played the same game on him and several others. Baker became so notorious an Indian exterminator that they gave the river his name; hence Baker's River."

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

]

THE NEW ENGLAND LIBRARY AND ITS FOUNDER.

BY VICTORIA REED.

Thomas Prince was an eminent divine and accomplished scholar, well known throughout New England during the first half of the 18th century. His life is worthy of consideration on many accounts, but particularly for the great work he accomplished outside of his profession. He is, perhaps, best known to this generation as the collector of the Prince Library, now incorporated with many other private collections in the Public Library of Boston, although his published work, "The Chronology of New England," confers an equal benefit on posterity, and both together entitle him to a place of honor in our annals.

His library was gathered as much for the instruction of others as for his own gratification. It is interesting to know that this bequest, now one hundred and fifty years old, obsolete in some respects, is still highly valued. Some writer says, that, if for no other reason, there should be a new fire-proof building for the Public Library for the better preservation of the Shakespeare collection and the Prince Library. The valuable editions of Shakespeare arranged in glass cases in the Bates Hall are no doubt familiar to many people, but it is possible that the majority even of the daily visitors to this institution have no definite knowledge of the Prince Library, which is found, on examination, to contain a fund for the curious, as well as many things of importance to the antiquarian.

This library was added to the Public Library twenty-four years ago, and was originally a gift to the Old South Church. It is a collection which should be treasured, not only by Bostonians and all New England people, but is also of importance to the country at large, as it was, in a limited sense, the forerunner of all public libraries in the land. It is of a twofold nature,--an historical section, with the other devoted to ecclesiastical works. Mr. Prince designed the ecclesiastical or Old South collection, as he called it, for the use of the pastors and church of which he was associate pastor forty years. This contained all the Latin and Greek books, and all in oriental languages.

His will states: "That whereas I have been many years collecting a number of books, pamphlets, maps, prints and manuscripts, either published in New England or pertaining to its history and public affairs, to which collection I have given the name of 'Ye New England Library,' and have deposited in the steeple of the Old South Church; and as I made this collection from a public view and desire that many important transactions might be remembered, which otherwise would be lost, I hereby bequeath the collection to the Old South Church forever, to the end that this collection may be kept entire. I desire that this collection be kept in a different department from the other books, and that it may be so made that no person shall borrow any book or paper therefrom, but that any person whom the pastors and deacons of the church for the time being shall approve, may have access thereto, and take copies therefrom."

The Prince catalogue states that, "at his death, the New England Library was the most extensive of the kind that had ever been formed. It contains, in its depleted state, not less than 1,500 books and tracts relating to America during the period of our colonial history."

The Mather family and Gov. Hutchinson are alone to be compared with Mr. Prince as collectors of books, and theirs avail little, as they have been scattered and destroyed. It is a matter of congratulation that the greater portion of Mr. Prince's books have been preserved, each of which had been carefully selected, "many bearing name, date of purchase, cost, and place where it was acquired." He frequently noted contemporaneous events of public importance on fly-leaf.

A great number were purchased during a seven-years' residence in Europe, and some one says, "By means of this memoranda, we can easily trace the stages of his sojourn abroad." He invented a very quaint book-plate, with flowered border, in which he inscribed his name.

Many valuable books and manuscripts were destroyed at the beginning of hostilities, which resulted in the Revolutionary war. The library, when entire, was a rare monument to the energy and perseverance of Mr. Prince, who, through a long and laborious life, never lost sight of this cherished project of his youth. It has never been merged into any other collection, but remains entirely separate, in accordance with the will of the testator. It has a special catalogue, and no book is ever taken from the building, though accessible for reference in the main hall. The books are deposited in an alcove at the top of the house, reached by a spiral stairway. Many of them are of immense size, in heavy leather bindings, while others are of the smallest dimensions. The pages are yellow with age, and the majority will have only the ravages of time to contend with, as the contents are not of a nature to make them attractive to the youth, or even to many maturer minds of this generation; but to the antiquarian, and as a picture of the growth of a mind in Puritan days, from its earliest years to advanced age, this collection is unequalled; for it was carefully selected, subject to the taste and needs of Mr. Prince's nature, and each book was familiar and favorite ground to him.

The first book with date bears this inscription: "Thos. Prince, his book, 1697, 10 years of age." The book was "Marrow of Modern Divinity," with "Awakening Call to the Unconverted" attached, and in his 16th year the following book was added: "Some Account of Holy Life and Death of Mr. Henry Gearing, late citizen of London, who departed this life Jan. 4th, 1693, aged 61. Boston in New England, printed for Sam'l Phillips, at the Brick Shop, 1704." Underneath is written, "Anno Domini, 1704, Thomas Prince, Duke of Landwich, Earl of Pen^apog."

The taking down of the first Old South and "Ye day of laying foundation of y^e South Church, New Meeting House, March 31, 1727," are duly chronicled in books of those dates. All through his life Thomas Prince showed a wonderful adaptability in noting the minutest as well as greatest events, and we trace a thorough command of detail in his published work, both lay and clerical. This, joined with enthusiasm and unflagging zeal, caused him to master all difficulties, and to accomplish tasks that would be appalling to an untrained or undisciplined mind.

One of the cards used for reference in the Public Library contains the following: "The Prince Library has some rare specimens of the earliest typographical art in British America, and other books of peculiar interest in the history of New England, though not printed in America. The Bay Psalm Book, which was printed at Cambridge, Mass., in 1640, being the first book ever printed in the British Possessions, 'The Freeman's Oath' and a small almanac only preceding it. What is supposed to be the original draught of the preface of this book, in the handwriting of one of the editors, the Rev. Richard Mather, is among the Prince MSS. Elliot's Indian Bible,--first edition printed at Cambridge, 1663,--also Eliot's Indian Primer, 1720, in original binding, and thought in that style to be unique. Capt. John Smith's description of New England, printed in London, 1616, with the early map. This copy contains the old and new names, and has differences from most copies that have been preserved."

Mr. Prince collected the original manuscripts of the "Mather Papers," and arranged them chronologically with notes. He seemed to know intuitively that everything should be preserved that would be of the least advantage to future historians. The salvation of the records of this most important family, who, with extreme rigor and cruelty even, in some cases, ruled the Puritans of their day, was a natural and thoughtful act on Mr. Prince's part.

The "Hinckley Papers" are of great interest also. The catalogue of this portion of the library has been very carefully prepared, as each letter in all these manuscript collections is designated by subject, the name of the writer, date, and volume that contains it. The Hinckley papers were those belonging to Mr. Prince's maternal grandfather, Gov. Hinckley, who had a very extensive correspondence during the twenty years he was governor of Plymouth Colony. It contains letters from all men of note of that period,--Roger Williams, the Cottons, the Mathers, Gov. Winslow, a letter of King Charles II. to Gov. Josiah Winslow, Gov. Hinckley's address, and petition to James II.; also many personal letters to wife and daughters. Mr. Prince says "that on his grandfather's death he took these papers from his study, but while he was in Europe some of curiosity and value were unhappily lost." There are some Prince papers, mostly letters of distinguished divines to his brother, Rev. Nathan Prince. In his brother's commonplace book he inscribes, "This book belongs to the New England Library. Begun to be collected by Thomas Prince upon his entering Harvard College in 1703, and was given by Prince to s'd library in memory of his late dear brother, y^e Rev. Nathan Prince, M.A., formerly Fellow and Tutor of Harvard College. Born at Sandwich, November, 1698; died at Rattan, 1748, and wrote this manuscript before he left s^d college in 1742." The catalogue remarks: "Two vols. MSS., evidently companions to this book, are in the Library of Bishop of London at Fulham."

There is in the Prince Library quite a large collection of ecclesiastical history and biblical literature.

The psalms in numberless versions, metres, and paraphrases, in Hebrew, Latin, and Greek; one hundred and six volumes on natural, polemic, and practical theology. All his own works are to be found here; as many as thirty-three sermons, mostly funeral discourses, others commemorating great events, such as victories at Culloden and Louisburg. He gave frequently the genealogy of the person eulogized in his funeral orations, thus making them valuable for family reference, and often of historical significance. We easily trace the early bent of his mind toward chronology. It gathered force throughout his whole career, and finally bore fruit in his own "Chronology of New England," on which he spent many years of preparation.

He said himself, when he presented it in person to the House, of which Hon. Mr. Quincy was speaker, in 1736: "I most humbly present to your honor, and this honorable house, the first volume of my 'Chronology of New England,' which at no small expense and pains I have composed and published for the instruction and good of my country." He published three parts of the second volume, and made elaborate preparations for its continuance. He began his work at the patriarchal period, and brought it down with careful attention to reliable facts into the earliest annals and descriptive history of Plymouth Colony, throwing light on the mode of living and thinking of the Puritans by copious quotations from their diaries. If his diligent and inquisitive mind could have completed this wonderful production,--bringing it to the middle of the 18th century,--it would have been such a perfect and minute account of the early history of New England that there would have been nothing for later historians to glean. It was, however, unappreciated at the time of its publication, which was a discouragement to him, though he always maintained, with his peculiar insight into the needs of coming ages, that the time would surely arrive when his patient and laborious work would meet with some reward,--a prophecy which has been more than fulfilled as far as the historians of New England are concerned.

The last work of his busy life was the revision of the Bay Psalm Book. Mr. Prince, in his account of this undertaking, gives an idea of the thoroughness of his preparatory work. He says: "The old Psalm Book,--the first book printed in all North America, or in the New World,--this version of 1640, by the clergymen, John Elliot, of Roxbury, Mr. Richard Mather, of Dorchester, and Mr. Thomas Weld,--was liked so much, that it was used by some congregations in England while I was there." "To gain sentiment," he says, for his own version, "I read every verse in English Bible and Polyglot; also in Hebrew, with Moulane's Interlineary, the Septuagint, the Chaldee, the ancient Latin, Latin versions of Syriac and Arabic, Castalio, Tremilius and Junius, Ainsworth and De Mies. When I met with difficulty I searched the following ancient lexicons: Avenarius, Schindler, Pagnini, Mercer, Buxtorfs two lexicons, namely, Hebrew and Chaldaic, Leigh, Castillus, Bythun, and Martin Albert." There were also various interpretations from another long list of names; while he looked into New England version for groundwork, he compared with twelve metrical versions.

A contemporary says: "It showed his wonderful industry and remarkable scholarship." His professional labors throughout fifty years were very arduous, but he brought the same careful preparation into all branches of his daily occupations that we find in his published work. In addition to his theological studies, which were naturally absorbing, and his historical research, he was thoroughly conversant with polite literature. At his death his library, which he had deposited in the belfry of the Old South Church, said to be his study, remained there intact and undisturbed for seventeen years. The books were on shelves, the manuscripts and maps in boxes and barrels. At the breaking out of the Revolutionary war they were still left where Mr. Prince placed them, though the old meeting-house became the camping ground of British soldiery. Pews and pulpit were burnt, to enable the riding school--which the soldiers inaugurated--a better opportunity for its operations. Gov. Winthrop's old residence, next door to the church, opposite the foot of School street, which had been used some time as a parsonage, fell a victim to the lawlessness of the soldiers, who used the beams and rafters of this memento of the earliest Puritan days for firewood, while many of Mr. Prince's books and manuscripts were immolated on the same altar. It has been suggested that some were taken by the spectators who thronged to witness the exhibitions, as manuscripts known to have belonged to this library were found--so the catalogue states--as remote as in a grocer's shop in Nova Scotia. It would be difficult to conjecture which would have caused the greater grief to Mr. Prince,--the desecration of the church, whose construction had been a daily delight, and where he had earnestly labored for so many years, or the sacrifice of a portion of the results of the patient toil of a lifetime. This material, however, which was consigned to the flames, would have been of great benefit to historical societies, who now treasure the minutest facts that bear upon our past history. In 1814, when society had recovered its equilibrium, and began to feel a dawning pride in the great achievement that made of the colonies a free and independent nation, an interest naturally increased in those things that pertained to their earliest chronicles. The Historical Society looked over the books and pamphlets belonging to Mr. Prince, removing the historical portion to their rooms, while the ecclesiastical was sent to the house of the pastor of the Old South. In 1860 it was considered desirable to place them all together in the Public Library of Boston, where they would be under the guardianship of the city, and be far more accessible, though still the property of the Old South.

Everything seemed to conspire to make the life of Thomas Prince an exceptionally happy and fortunate one. He had remarkable opportunities from his birth to develop all his natural capabilities, and in spite of his Puritan surroundings he gained a liberal view of life, and appreciated and profited by the facilities for culture that were open to him. He traced himself the genealogy and characteristics of the Prince family, and we find in him the modified traits of his English and Puritan forefathers, who, though strictly religious, were not so fanatical as many about them. His great-grandfather, the Rev. John Prince, who lived in the reign of James I. and Charles I., was educated at Oxford, and became rector of East Shefford, Berkshire, Eng. Thomas Prince says of him: "Of whom there was this remarkable, that he was one of the Puritan ministers of the Church of England who in part conformed and who greatly longed for a further reformation. He had married a daughter of Dr. Toldenburg, D.D., of Oxford, by whom he had four sons and seven daughters. Every one of the children proved conscientious non-conformists even while their parents lived, without any breach of affection. Thus they continued pretty near together until the furious and cruel Archbishop Laud dispersed and drove their eldest son, with many others, to this country."

Walter Money, F.S.A., local secretary of Berks, writes of the old church at East Shefford, of which Rev. John Prince was rector from 1620 to 1644: "The church where he preached still stands, being used only for a mortuary chapel, a new one for use having been erected near by. The old chapel is a most interesting building of the time of Henry VIII., and considered worthy to be described in full in archaeological works found in the British Museum. It contains a remarkable monument of Sir Thomas Fettiplace and his wife Beatrice, whose old manor-house adjoined the church. There is an exquisite view of the latter in the British Museum."

The rector's oldest son, also named John, was destined for the ministry, and had been three years at Oxford before coming to this country. On arriving here, thinking his preparatory work too meagre for his profession, he devoted himself to husbandry. He settled in Hull, in 1633. His son Samuel, the father of Thomas, was born in 1649, and his son chronicles of him, "That he was healthy and strong in body, vigorous and active in spirit, thoughtful and religious from youth, esteemed for his abilities and gifts, especially of his power of arguing; a zealous asserter of New England liberties, with charity to others, instructive in conversation." He represented the town of Sandwich nineteen times in legislative councils. He had two wives; the second was Mercy, daughter of Governor Hinckley, and Thomas was her oldest son. Governor Hinckley was a man of superior ability, distinguished in the history of Plymouth Colony. "He had been from first to last the associate, in weal or woe, of its great and good men, and had lived himself chief among the survivors to see the last chapter written in its immortal annals." His grandmother Hinckley was a daughter of Quartermaster Smith, who came from England. Her grandson, Thomas Prince, says of her: "To the day of her death she shone in the eyes of all as the loveliest and brightest for beauty, knowledge, wisdom, majesty, accomplishments and graces throughout the colony." Governor Hinckley had seventeen children, their names corresponding to the spirit of the times. Among them we find Mataliah, Mehitable, Mercy, Experience, Thankful, Reliance, Ebenezer, and Bathsheba. Thomas Prince himself, one of fourteen children, was born at Sandwich, the first town settled on the Cape in 1687. When eleven years old he went to his grandfather Hinckley's, and remained with him until he entered college. Here he imbibed his taste for chronology and his love of books. His grandfather fostered him in his youthful ambition of founding a library, and gave him many from his own collection. During his long life of eighty years Governor Hinckley became thoroughly acquainted with all events of importance that had happened in the new world, and the eager boy was fed and stimulated by companionship with him, and all the moving spirits of the day who frequented his grandfather's house. His early attention to religious subjects, his wide culture, and remarkable sympathy with everything pertaining to his own times, was the blossoming fruit instilled into him by an honorable ancestry, who from the early part of the seventeenth century had been consistent Puritans, and filled places of trust with honor and fidelity.