In the course of a mysterious providence, this venerable mansion was destined to be rendered memorable by its connection with the darkest scene in our annals. As that scene cannot otherwise be comprehended in all the elements that led to it, it is necessary to give the intermediate history of the Townsend Bishop farm and mansion. In 1641, Bishop sold it to Henry Chickering, who seems to have been residing for some time in Salem, and to whom, in January, 1640, a grant of land had been made by the town. He continued to own it until the 4th of October, 1648; although he does not appear to have resided on the farm long, as he soon removed to Dedham, from which place he was deputy to the General Court in 1642, and several years afterwards. He sold the farm at the above-mentioned date to Governor Endicott for one hundred and sixty pounds. In 1653, John Endicott, Jr., the eldest son of the Governor, married Elizabeth, daughter of Jeremiah Houchins, an eminent citizen of Boston, who had before resided in Hingham, which place he represented as deputy for six years. The name was pronounced "Houkins," and so perhaps was finally spelled "Hawkins." By agreement, or "articles of marriage contract," Endicott bestowed the farm upon his son. "Present possession" was given. How long, or how much of the time, the young couple lived on the estate, is not known. Their principal residence was in Boston. The General Court, in 1660, granted John Endicott, Jr., four hundred acres of land on the eastern side of the upper part of Merrimac River. After the purchase of the farm from Chickering, the Endicott property covered nearly a thousand acres in one tract, extending from the arms of the sea to the centre of the present village of Tapleyville. On the 10th of May, 1662, the Governor executed a deed, carrying out the engagements of the marriage contract, giving to his son John, his heirs, and assigns for ever, the Bishop farm. Governor Endicott died in 1665. A will was found signed and sealed by him, dated May 2, 1659, in which, referring to the marriage gift to John, he bequeathes the aforesaid farm to "him and his heirs," but does not add, "and assigns." Another item of the will is, "The land I have bequeathed to my two sons, in one place or another, my will is that the longest liver of them shall enjoy the whole, except the Lord send them children to inherit it after them." Unfortunately, there were no witnesses to the will. It was not allowed in Probate. The matter was carried up to the General Court; and it was decided Aug. 1, 1665, that the court "do not approve of the instrument produced in court to be the last will and testament of the late John Endicott, Esq., governor." In October of the same year, John Endicott, Jr., petitioned the General Court to act on the settlement of his father's estate; and the court directs administration to be granted to "Mrs. Elizabeth Endicott and her two sons, John and Zerubabel," and that they bring in an inventory to the next county court at Boston, and to dispose of the same as the law directs. Upon this, the widow of the Governor, and his son Zerubabel, again appeal to the General Court; and on the 23d of May, 1666, "after a full hearing of all parties concerned in the said estate, i.e., the said Mrs. Elizabeth Endicott and her two sons, Mr. John and Mr. Zerubabel Endicott, Mr. Jeremiah Houchin being also present in court, and respectively presenting their pleas and evidences in the case," it was finally decided and ordered by the court, that the provisions of the document purporting to be the will of Governor Endicott should be carried into effect, with these exceptions: that the Bishop or Chickering farm shall go to his son John "to him, his heirs and assigns for ever;" and that Elizabeth, the wife of said son John, if she should survive her husband, shall enjoy during her life all the estate of her husband in all the other houses and lands mentioned in the instrument purporting to be his father's will. The court adjudge that this must have been "the real intent of the aforesaid John Endicott, Esq., deceased, who had during his life special favor and respect for her." They give the widow of the Governor "the goods and chattels" of the said John Endicott, Esq., her late husband, provided that, if "she shall die seized to the value of more than eighty pounds sterling" thereof, the surplus shall be divided between her two sons: John to have a double portion thereof. Finally, they appoint the widow sole administratrix, and require her to bring in a true inventory to the next court for the county of Suffolk, and to pay all debts.

John and his father-in-law had it all their own way. The decision of the court was perhaps correct, according to legal principles; although it is not so certain that it was, in all respects, in conformity with the intent of Governor Endicott. Undoubtedly, as the language of the deed shows, he had made up his mind to give to his son John and "his assigns" absolute, full, and final possession of the Bishop farm. But it seems equally certain, that he meant to have the rest of his landed estate, including the Orchard Farm and the Ipswich-river farm, go directly and wholly to the survivor, if either of his sons died without issue. The facts and dates are as follows: His son John was married in 1653. The Governor's will was made in 1659. It had then become quite probable that John might not have issue. The will gives him and his heirs, but not his assigns, the Bishop farm. In the event of his death without issue, his widow would have her dower and legal life right in it, but the final heir would be Zerubabel. In 1662, the Governor, who had, some years before, removed to Boston, where he resided the remainder of his life, executed a deed, giving to his son John, "his heirs and assigns," a full and permanent title to the Bishop farm. This was a variation of the plan for the disposition of his estate as shown in his will. He probably designed to make a new will, securing to his natural heirs, so far as his other landed property was concerned, what he had thus permitted to pass away from them in the Bishop farm; that is, the full and immediate possession by the survivor, if either of the sons died without issue. It was a favorite idea, almost a sacred principle, in those days, to have lands go in the natural descent. The sentiment is quite apparent in the tenor of the Governor's will. When he deprived, by his deed to John in 1662, Zerubabel's family of the right to the final possession of the Bishop farm, it can hardly be doubted that he relied upon the provisions of his will to secure to them the immediate, complete possession of all his other lands, without the incumbrance of any claim of dower or otherwise of John's widow. But the pressure of public duties prevented his duly executing his will, and putting it into a new shape, in conformity with the circumstances of the case. The troubles that followed teach the necessity of the utmost caution and carefulness in that most difficult and most irremediable of all business transactions,—the attempt to continue the control of property, after death, by written instruments.

John Endicott, Jr., died in February, 1668, without issue; leaving his whole estate to his widow, "her heirs and assigns for ever." His will is dated Jan. 27, 1668, and was offered to Probate on the 29th of February, 1668. His widow married, Aug. 31, 1668, the Rev. James Allen, one of the ministers of the First Church in Boston, whose previous wife, Hannah Dummer, by whom he received five hundred acres of land, had died in March, 1668. His Endicott wife died April 5, 1673, leaving the Townsend-Bishop farm and all her other property to him; and on the 11th of September, of the same year, he married Sarah Hawlins. By his two preceding wives he received twelve hundred acres of land. How much he got by the last-mentioned, we have no information. Besides these matrimonial accumulations, the accounts seem to indicate that he was rich before.

It may well be imagined, that it could not have been very agreeable to the family at the Orchard Farm to see this choice and extensive portion of their estate, which was within full view from their windows, swept into the hands of utter strangers in so rapid and extraordinary a manner, by a series of circumstances most distasteful and provoking. But this was but the beginning of their trouble.

On the 29th of April, 1678, Allen sold the Bishop farm to Francis Nurse, of the town of Salem, for four hundred pounds. Nurse was an early settler, and, before this purchase, had lived, for some forty years, "near Skerry's," on the North River, between the main part of the settlement in the town of Salem and the ferry to Beverly. He is described as a "tray-maker." The making of these articles, and similar objects of domestic use, was an important employment in a new country remote from foreign supply. He appears to have been a very respectable person, of great stability and energy of character, whose judgment was much relied on by his neighbors. No one is mentioned more frequently as umpire to settle disputes, or arbitrator to adjust conflicting claims. He was often on committees to determine boundaries or estimate valuations, or on local juries to lay out highways and assess damages. The fact that he was willing to encounter the difficulties connected with such a heavy transaction as the purchase of the Bishop farm at such a price at his time of life proves that he had a spirit equal to a bold undertaking. He was then fifty-eight years of age. His wife Rebecca was fifty-seven years of age. We shall meet her again.

They had four sons,—Samuel, John, Francis, and Benjamin; and four daughters,—Rebecca, married to Thomas Preston, Mary to John Tarbell, Elizabeth to William Russell, and Sarah, who remained unmarried until after the death of her mother. With this strong force of stalwart sons and sons-in-law, and their industrious wives, Francis Nurse took hold of the farm. The terms of the purchase were so judicious and ingenious, that they are worthy of being related, and show in what manner energetic and able-bodied men, even if not possessed of capital, particularly if they could command an effective co-operation in the labor of their families, obtained possession of valuable landed estates. The purchase-money was not required to be paid until the expiration of twenty-one years. In the mean time, a moderate annual rent was fixed upon; seven pounds for each of the first twelve years, and ten pounds for each of the remaining nine years. If, at the end of the time, the amount stipulated had not been paid, or Nurse should abandon the undertaking, the property was to relapse to Allen. Disinterested and suitable men, whose appointment was provided for, were then to estimate the value added to the estate by Nurse during his occupancy, by the clearing of meadows or erection of buildings or other permanent improvements, and all of that value over and above one hundred and fifty pounds was to be paid to him. If any part of the principal sum should be paid prior to the expiration of twenty-one years, a proportionate part of the farm was to be relieved of all obligation to Allen, vest absolutely in Nurse, and be disposable by him. By these terms, Allen felt authorized to fix a very high price for the farm, it not being payable until the lapse of a long period of time. If not paid at all, the property would come back to him, with one hundred and fifty pounds of value added to it. It was not a bad bargain for him,—a man of independent means derived from other sources, and so situated as not to be able to carry on the farm himself. It was a good investment ahead. To Nurse the terms were most favorable. He did not have to pay down a dollar at the start. The low rent required enabled him to apply almost the entire income from the farm to improvements that would make it more and more productive. Before half the time had elapsed, a value was created competent to discharge the whole sum due to Allen. His children severally had good farms within the bounds of the estate, were able to assume with ease their respective shares of the obligations of the purchase; and the property was thus fully secured within the allotted time. Allen gave, at the beginning, a full deed, in the ordinary form, which was recorded in this county. Nurse gave a duly executed bond, in which the foregoing conditions are carefully and clearly defined. That was recorded in Suffolk County; and nothing, perhaps, was known in the neighborhood, at the time or ever after, of the terms of the transaction. When the success of the enterprise was fully secured, Nurse conveyed to his children the larger half of the farm, reserving the homestead and a convenient amount of land in his own possession. The plan of this division shows great fairness and judgment, and was entirely satisfactory to them all. They were required, by the deeds he gave them, to maintain a roadway by which they could communicate with each other and with the old parental home.

Here the venerable couple were living in truly patriarchal style, occupying the "mansion" of Townsend Bishop, when the witchcraft delusion occurred. They and their children were all clustered within the limits of the three-hundred-acre farm. They were one family. The territory was their own, secured by their united action, and made commodious, productive, valuable, and beautiful to behold, by their harmonious, patient, and persevering labor. Each family had a homestead, and fields and gardens; and children were growing up in every household. The elder sons and sons-in-law had become men of influence in the affairs of the church and village. It was a scene of domestic happiness and prosperity rarely surpassed. The work of life having been successfully done, it seemed that a peaceful and serene descent into the vale of years was secured to Francis and Rebecca Nurse. But far otherwise was the allotment of a dark and inscrutable providence.

There is some reason to suspect that the prosperity of the Nurses had awakened envy and jealousy among the neighbors. The very fact that they were a community of themselves and by themselves, may have operated prejudicially. To have a man, who, for forty years, had been known, in the immediate vicinity, as a farmer and mechanic on a small scale, without any pecuniary means, get possession of such a property, and spread out his family to such an extent, was inexplicable to all, and not relished perhaps by some. There seems to have been a disposition to persist in withholding from him the dignity of a landholder; and, long after he had distributed his estate among his descendants, it is mentioned in deeds made by parties that bounded upon it, as "the farm which Mr. Allen, of Boston, lets to the Nurses." Not knowing probably any thing about it, they call it, even after Nurse's death, "Mr. Allen's farm." This, however, was a slight matter. When Allen sold the farm to Nurse, he bound himself to defend the title; and he was true to his bond. What was required to be done in this direction may, perhaps, have exposed the Nurses to animosities which afterwards took terrible effect against them.

In granting lands originally, neither the General Court nor the town exercised sufficient care to define boundaries. There does not appear to have been any well-arranged system, based upon elaborate, accurate, scientific surveys. Of the dimensions of the area of a rough, thickly wooded, unfrequented country, the best estimates of the most practised eyes, and measurements resting on mere exploration or perambulation, are very unreliable. The consequence was, that, in many cases, grants were found to overlap each other. This was the case with the Bishop farm; and soon after Nurse came into possession, and had begun to operate upon it, a conflict commenced; trespasses were complained of; suits were instituted; and one of the most memorable and obstinately contested land-controversies known to our courts took place. In that controversy Nurse was not formally a principal. The case was between James Allen and Zerubabel Endicott, or between Allen and Nathaniel Putnam.

An inspection of the map, at this point, will enable us to understand the grounds on which the suit was contested. The Orchard Farm was granted to Endicott, as has been stated, July 3, 1632, by the General Court. The grant states the bounds on the south and on the north to be two rivers; on the east, another river, into which they both flow; and, on the west, the mainland. Where this western line was to strike the rivers on the north and south is not specified; but the natural interpretation would seem to be, in the absence of any thing to the contrary, that it was to strike them at their respective heads. The evidence of all persons who were conversant with the premises during the life of the Governor as connected with the farm was unanimous and conclusive to this point; that is, that he and they always supposed that the west line was, as drawn on the map, from the head of one river to the head of the other; that the farm embraced all between them as far up as the tide set. It was objected, on the other side, that this made the farm much more than three hundred acres; but as an offset to that was the fact, that a considerable part of the area was swamp or marsh, not usually taken into the account in reckoning the extent of a grant, and the additional fact, that the language of the General Court in reference to quantity was not precise,—"about" three hundred acres. At the same date with the grant to Endicott, the General Court granted two hundred acres to Mr. Skelton, which tract is given on the map.

As has been stated, the General Court conferred upon the towns the exclusive right to dispose of the lands within their limits, March 3, 1635. On the 10th of December of that year, the town of Salem granted to Robert Cole the tract of three hundred acres subsequently purchased by Emanuel Downing, which is indicated on the map. On the 11th of January, 1636, the grant of three hundred acres was made to Townsend Bishop. Its language is unfortunately obscure in some expressions; but it is clear, that the tract was to be four hundred rods in length, one hundred and twenty-four rods in width at the western end, and one hundred and sixteen rods at the eastern. At the north-east corner it was to meet the water or brook that separated it from the grant to Skelton; and it was also to "but" upon, or touch, at the eastern end, the land granted to Endicott by the General Court. After the grant to Bishop, the town, from time to time, made grants to Stileman of land north of the Bishop grant. Stileman's grants adjoined Skelton's at the north-eastern corner of the Bishop farm. That part of Stileman's land had come into possession of Nathaniel Putnam, and the residue westwardly, together with the grant to Weston, into the possession of Hutchinson, Houlton, and Ingersol. Still further west, the town had made grants to Swinnerton. Their respective locations are given in the map. The point of difficulty which gave rise to litigation was this: The Bishop farm was required, by the terms of the grant, to be one hundred and sixteen rods wide at its eastern end. But there was no room for it. The requisite width could not be got without encroaching upon either Putnam or Endicott, or both. As Endicott stood upon an earlier title than that of Bishop, and from a higher authority, and Putnam upon a later title from an inferior authority, the court of trials might have disposed of the matter, at the opening, on that ground, and Putnam been left to suffer the encroachment. But it did not so decide; and the case went on. The struggle was between Endicott to push it north, and thereby save his Orchard Farm, and the land between it and the Bishop grant, given by the town to his father, called the Governor's Plain, and Nathaniel Putnam to push it south, and thereby save the land he had received from his wife's father, Richard Hutchinson, who had purchased from Stileman. Allen stood on the defensive against both of them. The Nurses had nothing to do but to attend to their own business, carrying on their farming operations up to the limits of their deed, looking to Allen for redress, if, in the end, the dimensions of their estate should be curtailed. But, being the occupants, and, until finally ousted, the owners of the land, if there was any intrusion to be repelled, or violence to be met, or fighting to be done, they were the ones to do it. They were equal to the situation.

After various trials in the courts of law in all possible shapes, the whole subject was carried up to the General Court, where it was decided, in conformity with the report of a special commission in May, 1679, substantially in favor of Putnam and Allen. Endicott petitioned for a new hearing. Another commission was appointed; and their report was accepted in May, 1682. It was more unfavorable to Endicott than the previous one. He protested against the judgment of the court in earnest but respectful language, and petitioned for still another hearing. They again complied with his request, and appointed a day for once more examining the case; but, when the day came, Nov. 24, 1683, he was sick in bed, and the case was settled irrevocably against him.

The map gives the lines of the Bishop farm as finally settled by the General Court. It will be noticed, that it is laid directly across the Governor's Plain, and runs far into the Orchard Farm "up to the rocks near Endicott's dwelling-house," or, as it is otherwise stated, "within a few rods of Guppy's ditch, near to" the said house. It may be said to have been a necessity, as the original three hundred acres of the grant to Townsend Bishop had to be made up. It could not go north; for Houlton and Ingersol stood upon the Weston grant, and Hutchinson and Nathaniel Putnam stood upon Stileman's grants, to push it back. It could not go west or south-west, for there Swinnerton stood to fend off upon his grants; and there, too, was Nathaniel Putnam, upon his own grant, and lands he had purchased of another original grantee. It could not be swung round to the south without jamming up the lands of Felton and others, or pushing them over the grants, made to Robert Cole—under which Downing had purchased—and to Thomas Read. All these parties were combined to force it south-eastwardly over the grounds of Endicott. Nathaniel Putnam was his most fatal antagonist. He was a man of remarkable energy, of consummate adroitness, and untiring resources in such a transaction; and he so managed to press in the bounds of the Bishop farm, at the north-east, as to gain a valuable strip for himself. With this strong man against him, acting in combination with the rich and influential James Allen, minister of the great metropolitan First Church, and licenser of the press, who brought the whole power of his clerical and social connections in Boston and throughout the colony to bear upon the General Court, Zerubabel Endicott had no chance for justice, and no redress for wrong. In vain he invoked the memory of his father, or of Winthrop, the grandfather of his wife. His father and both the Winthrops had long before left the scene: a new generation had risen, and there was none to help him.

One would have supposed, that the General Court, which had granted the Orchard Farm to Governor Endicott, would have felt bound, in self-respect and in honor, to have protected it against any overlapping grants subsequently made by an inferior authority. Under the circumstances of the case, it was its duty to have held the Orchard Farm intact, and made it up to the satisfaction of Allen and Nurse by a grant elsewhere, or an equitable compensation in money. It owed so much to the son of Endicott and the grand-daughter of Winthrop, the first noble Fathers of the colony. Perhaps the court found its justification in the phraseology of the deed of conveyance of the Bishop farm from Governor Endicott to his son John. After reciting or referring to the original town grant to Bishop, and the deeds from Bishop to Chickering, and from Chickering to himself, the Governor conveys to his son John all the houses, &c., and every part and parcel of the land "to the utmost extent thereof, according as is expressed or included in either of the forecited deeds, or town grant." It was maintained, and justly, by Allen, that he held all that was conveyed to John Endicott, Jr. But the Court had no right to encroach upon the Orchard Farm, which had been granted to the Governor by them prior to all deeds and to the town grant to Bishop.

Never did that deep and sagacious observation on the mysteries of human nature, "Men's judgments are a parcel of their fortunes," receive a more striking or melancholy illustration than in the case of Zerubabel Endicott. With his falling fortunes, his judgment and discretion fell also; his mind, maddened by a sense of wrong, seemed bent upon exposing itself to new wrongs. Having been broken down by lawsuits, that had wasted his estate, he seemed to have acquired a blind passion for them. Having destroyed his peace and embarrassed his affairs in attempts to resist the adjudications of the Court, he persisted in struggling against them. He had tried to push the Bishop grant west, over the land of Nathaniel Putnam in that quarter. The highest tribunal had settled it against him. But he appeared to be incapable of realizing the fact. He sent his hired men to cut timber on that land. They worked there some days, felled a large number of trees, and hewed them into beams and joists for the frame of a house. One morning, returning to their work, there was no timber to be found; logs, framework, and all, were gone. They were carefully piled up a mile away, by the side of Putnam's dwelling-house, who had sent two teams, one of four oxen, the other of two oxen and a horse, with an adequate force of men, and in two loadings had cleaned out the whole. Endicott of course sued him, and of course was cast.

When the General Court had consented to give him a rehearing of the case of the Bishop farm, they expressly forbade his making any "strip" of the land in the mean while. But with the infatuation which seemed to possess him, and not heeding how fatally it would prejudice his cause at the impending hearing to violate the order of the Court, he again sent a gang of men to cut wood on the land in controversy. The following shows the result:—

"Hugh Jones, aged 46 years, and Alexius Reinolds, aged 25 years, testify and say, that we, these deponents, being desired by Mr. Zerubabel Endicott to cut up some wood, for his winter firewood, accordingly went with our teams, which had four oxen and a horse; and there we met with several other teams of our neighbors, which were upon the same account, that is to say, to help carry up Mr. Endicott some wood for his winter firewood, and when we had loaded our sleds, Thomas Preston and John Tarbell came in a violent manner, and hauled the wood out of our sleds; and Francis Nurse, being present, demanded whose men we were. Mr. Endicott, being present, answered, they were his men."

These witnesses testify that this "battle of the wilderness" lasted two days,—Endicott's men cutting the wood and loading the teams, and Nurse's men pitching it off. The altercations and conflicts that took place between the parties during those two days may easily be imagined. Whether there was a final, decisive pitched battle, we are not informed. Perhaps there was. The woods rang with rough echoes, we may be well assured. A lawsuit followed; the result could not be in doubt. Endicott had no right there; he was there in direct violation of the order of Court. Nurse was in possession, had a right, and was bound, to keep the land from being stripped.

Shortly after this, Endicott broke down, under the difficulties that had accumulated around him. On the 24th of November, 1683, as we have seen, he was "sick in bed." Two days before,—that is, on the 22d of November,—he had made his will, which was presented in court on the 27th of March, 1684. He was game to the last; for this is an item of the will:—

"Whereas my late father, by his last will, bequeathed to me his farm called Bishop's or Chickering's farm, I do give the said farm to my five sons, to be equally divided among them."

The will of his father had been declared invalid on that point, and others. The whole thing had been conclusively settled for years; but he never would recognize the fact. It is a singular instance of an obstinacy of will completely superseding and suppressing the reason and the judgment. He lost the perception of the actual and real, in clinging to what he felt to be the right.

Every association and sentiment of his soul had been shocked by the wrongs he had suffered. He could not walk over his fields, or look from his windows, without feeling that a property which his father had given to his brother had, in a manner that he knew would have been as odious to that father as it was to him, passed into the hands of strangers, and been used as a wedge on which everybody had conspired to deal blows, driving it into the centre of his patrimonial acres, splitting and rending them through and through. He brooded over the thought, until, whenever his mind was turned to it, his reason was dethroned, his heart broken, and under its weight he fell into his grave.

An argument addressed by him to the court and jury, in one of the innumerable trials of the Bishop-farm case, is among the papers on file. It appears to be a verbatim report of the speech as it was delivered at the time, and proves him to have been a man of talents. It is courteous, gentlemanly, and, I might say, scholarly in its diction and style, skilful in its statements, and forcible in its arguments.

In all the earlier trials, the juries uniformly gave verdicts in favor of Endicott; but Allen carried the cases up to the General Court, which exercised a final and unrestrained jurisdiction in all matters referred to it. It usually appointed committees or commissioners to examine such questions, accepted their reports, and made them binding. Lands were thus disposed of without the agency, and against the decisions, of juries. In his arguments addressed to the General Court, Zerubabel Endicott protested against this jurisdiction, by which his lands were taken from him "by a committee, in an arbitrary way, being neither bound nor sworn by law or evidence." He boldly denounced it.

"To be disseized of my inheritance; to be judged by three or four committee-men, who are neither bound to law nor evidence,—who are, or may be, mutable in their apprehensions, doing one thing to-day, and soon again undoing what they did,—I conceive, to be judged in such an arbitrary way is repugnant to the fundamental law of England contained in Magna Charta, chap. 29, which says no freeman shall be disseized of his freehold but by the lawful judgment of his peers,—that is to say, by due process of law; which was also confirmed by the Petition of Right, by Act of Parliament, tertio Caroli I. And also such arbitrary jurisdiction was exploded in putting down the Star-Chamber Court; and the excessive fines imposed upon all such actings. See 'English Liberties,' as also the fourth and sixth articles against the Earl of Strafford in Baker's 'Chronicle,' folio 518."

He closes one of his remonstrances thus:—

"The humble request of your petitioner to the Hon. Gen. Court, that, as an Englishman,—as a freeman of this jurisdiction; as descended from him who, in his time, sought the welfare of this commonwealth,—I may have the benefit and protection of the wholesome laws established in this jurisdiction: that, in my extreme wrong, I may have liberty to seek relief in a way of law, and may not, contrary to Magna Charta, be disseized of my freehold by the arbitrary act of two or three committee-men; the fundamental law of England knowing no such constitution, abhorring such administrations: and that the Hon. Court would release your petitioner from the injurious effects of the said committee's act, and explode so pernicious a precedent."

Zerubabel Endicott was an imprudent and obstinate man, but had the traits of a generous, ardent, and noble character. He was a physician by profession. His second wife—the widow, as has been stated, of Rev. Antipas Newman, of Wenham, and daughter of John Winthrop, Jr., governor of Connecticut—survived him. Although he left five sons, the name, at one time, was borne by a single descendant only, a lad of seven years of age,—Samuel, a grandson of Zerubabel. On him it hung suspended, but he saved it. From that boy, those who bear the name in New England have been derived. We rejoice to believe that they will preserve it, and keep its honor bright.

Winthrop was recognized as the great leader in the early history of the Colony. He had a combination of qualities that marked him as a wise and good man, and gave him precedence. The eminent dignity of his character was admired and revered by all. No one was more ready to admit this than Endicott. Never were men placed towards each other in relations more severely testing their magnanimity, and none ever bore the test more perfectly. But Endicott was, after all, the most complete representative man of that generation. He was thoroughly identified with the people, participating in their virtues and in their defects. He was a strict religionist, a sturdy Puritan, a firm administrator of the law; at the same time, there are indications that he was of a genial spirit. He was personally brave, and officially intrepid. His administration of the government required nerve, and he had it. Sometimes the ardor of his temperament put him for a moment off his guard; but he was quick to acknowledge his error. He was true to the people, who never faltered in their fidelity to him. The author of "Wonder-working Providence" described him as "a fit instrument to begin the wilderness worke, of courage bold undaunted, yet sociable and of a cheerful spirit." I have presented some instances of his kind and pleasant relations with his workmen and neighbors. His name will ever be held in honored remembrance in this vicinity, where his useful enterprise was appreciated; and his descendants in our day, and to the present time, have contributed to the prosperity and the adornment of the community.

It is not unlikely, that hostile feelings towards the Nurses, which contributed afterwards to serious results, may have been engendered in this long-continued land quarrel. There is evidence that no such feeling existed on the part of the Endicotts: but there were many others interested; for, by testimony at the trials and in outside discussions, the whole community had become more or less implicated in the strife. The Nurses, as holding the ground and having to bear the brunt of defending it in all cases of intrusion, had a difficult position, and may have made some enemies. At any rate, this controversy was one of the means of stirring up animosities in the neighborhood; and an account of it has been deemed necessary, as contributing to indicate the elements of the awful convulsions which soon afterwards desolated Salem Village.

When we reach the story, for which this account of the farms of the village and the population that grew up on them is a preparative, we shall come back to the Townsend-Bishop grant, and to the house, still standing, that he built and dwelt in, upon it. It may be well to pause, and view its interesting history prior to 1692. While occupied by its original owner, the "mansion," or "cottage," was the scene of social intercourse among the choicest spirits of the earliest age of New England. Here Bishop, and, after him, Chickering, entertained their friends. Here the fine family of Richard Ingersoll was brought up. Here Governor Endicott projected plans for opening the country; and the road that passes its entrance-gate was laid out by him. To this same house, young John Endicott brought his youthful Boston bride. Here she came again, fifteen years afterwards, as the bride of the learned and distinguished James Allen, to show him the farm which, received as a "marriage gift" from her former husband, she had brought as a "marriage gift" to him. Here the same Allen, in less than six years afterwards, brought still another bride. In all these various, and some of them rather rapid, changes, it was, no doubt, often the resort of distinguished guests, and the place of meeting of many pleasant companies. During the protracted years of litigation for its possession, frequent consultations were held within it; and now, for twelve years, it had been the home of a happy, harmonious, and prosperous family, exemplifying the industry, energy, and enterprise of a New England household. A new chapter was destined, as we shall see, to be opened in its singular and diversified history. But we must return to the enumeration of the original landholders of the village.

George Corwin came to Salem in 1638. He had large tracts of land in various places. He lived, a part of his time, on his farm in the village; is found to have taken an active part in the proceedings of the people, particularly in military affairs; and was captain of a company of cavalry. His great mercantile transactions probably led him to have his residence mostly in the town, first on a lot on Washington Street, near the corner of Norman Street, where his grandson the sheriff lived in 1692. In 1660, he bought of Ann, the relict of Nicholas Woodbury, a lot on Essex Street, next east of the Browne Block, with a front of about one hundred and fifty feet. Here he built a fine mansion, in which he lived the remainder of his days. He died Jan. 6, 1685, leaving an estate inventoried at L5,964. 10s. 7d.,—a large fortune for those times. His portrait is preserved by his descendants, one of whom, the late George A. Ward, describes his dress as represented in the picture: "A wrought flowing neckcloth, a sash covered with lace, a coat with short cuffs and reaching half-way between the wrist and elbow; the skirts in plaits below; an octagon ring and cane." The last two articles are still preserved. His inventory mentions "a silver-laced cloth coat, a velvet ditto, a satin waistcoat embroidered with gold, a trooping scarf and silver hat-band, golden-topped and embroidered, and a silver-headed cane." His farms in the vicinity contained fifteen hundred acres. His connections were distinguished, and his descendants have included many eminent persons. The name, by male descent, disappeared for a time in this part of the country; but in the last generation it was restored in the female descent by an act of the Legislature, and is honorably borne by one of our most respectable families, who inherit his blood, and cherish the memorials which time has spared of their first American ancestor.

William Hathorne appears on the church records as early as 1636. He died in June, 1681, seventy-four years of age. No one in our annals fills a larger space. As soldier commanding important and difficult expeditions, as counsel in cases before the courts, as judge on the bench, and in innumerable other positions requiring talent and intelligence, he was constantly called to serve the public. He was distinguished as a public speaker, and is the only person, I believe, of that period, whose reputation as an orator has come down to us. He was an Assistant, that is, in the upper branch of the Legislature, seventeen years. He was a deputy twenty years. When the deputies, who before sat with the assistants, were separated into a distinct body, and the House of Representatives thus came into existence, in 1644, Hathorne was their first Speaker. He occupied the chair, with intermediate services on the floor from time to time, until raised to the other House. He was an inhabitant of Salem Village, having his farm there, and a dwelling-house, in which he resided when his legislative, military, and other official duties permitted. His son John, who succeeded him in all his public honors, also lived on his own farm in the village a great part of the time. The name is indelibly stamped on the hills and meadows of the region, as it was in the civil history of that age, and has been in the elegant literature of the present.

William Trask was one of what are called the "First Planters." He came over before Endicott, had his residence on Salem Farms, was a most energetic, enterprising, and useful citizen, and filled a great variety of public stations. He brought large tracts of land under culture, planted orchards, and established mills at the head of tide-water on the North River. He was the military leader of the first age of the plantations in this neighborhood, was captain of the train-band from the beginning, and, by his gallantry and energy in action, commanded the applause of his contemporaries. For his services in the Pequot Expedition, the General Court gave him and his associates large grants of land. His obsequies were celebrated, on the 16th of May, 1666, with great military parade; and the people of the town and the whole surrounding country followed his honored remains to the grave.

Richard Davenport came to Salem in 1631. His first residence was in the town; but soon he was led to the Farms. In 1636, he received a grant of eighty acres; in 1638, of two hundred and twenty acres; and, in 1642, eighty acres more, to be divided between him and Captain Lothrop. Besides these, he received several smaller grants of meadow and salt marsh. Such grants were made only with the view of having them duly improved; and it cannot be doubted that he was zealously engaged in agricultural operations. His town residence was on a lot reaching from Essex Street to the North River. Its front extended from the grounds now the site of the North Church to North Street. His house stood at some distance back from Essex Street. This estate was sold by his administrators, in 1674, to Jonathan Corwin, whose family occupied it until a very recent period. He left the town in 1643, and subsequently lived in what was afterwards Salem Village, until the public service called him away. He sold some of his estates, but retained others, on the Farms and in the town, to the time of his death. He continued the superintendence of his country estate, which seems to have been his family home, to the last. His military career gave him early distinction, and closed only with his life. In 1634, the General Court chose him "Ensign to Capt. Trask." He was concerned with Endicott in cutting out the cross from the king's colors. The following is from the record of a meeting of the court, Nov. 7, 1634: "It is ordered that Ensign Davenport shall be sent for by warrant, with command to bring his colors with him to the next court, as also any other that hath defaced the said colors." Davenport did not seem anxious to cover up his agency in this matter; for, when he offered his next child to baptism, he signified to the assembly that he was determined to commemorate and perpetuate the memory of the transaction, by having her christened "True Cross." It was necessary to make a show of punishing Endicott and Davenport on this occasion, to prevent trouble from the home government. Soon after, we find the General Court heaping honors upon Davenport, and finally, in 1639, making him a grant of one hundred and fifty acres of land, specially noticing his services in the Pequot War, which appear to have elicited general applause. In some desperate encounters with the savages, seventeen arrows were shot "into his coat of mail," and he was wounded in unprotected parts of his person. He was twice deputy to the General Court. In 1644, the General Court organized an elaborate system of external defence, the whole based upon Castle Island, now Fort Independence, in Boston Harbor. From that point, hostile invasion by a naval force was to be repelled. Every vessel, on entering, was to report to the castle, be examined and subject to the orders of the commandant. It became the military headquarters of the colony, the protection and oversight of whose commerce were intrusted to the officer in command. This was the highest military station and trust in the gift of the Government. It was assigned to Richard Davenport; and he held it for twenty-one years, to the moment of his death. The country reposed in confidence upon his watchful fidelity. He put and kept the castle in an efficient condition. In 1659, as evidence of their satisfaction and approval of his official conduct, the General Court made him a grant of five hundred acres of land laid out in Lancaster. On the 15th of July, 1665, he was killed by lightning, at his post. The records of the General Court speak of "the solemn stroke of thunder that took away Captain Davenport." The whole country mourned the loss of the veteran soldier; and the Court granted his family an additional tract of one hundred acres of land on the Merrimac River. He was in his sixtieth year at the time of his death. Of the company required to be raised in Salem for the Block-Island Expedition, in 1636, the three commissioned officers were furnished from the Farms,—Trask, Davenport, and Read. They were soldiers by nature and instinct, and to the end. The volleys of devoted, faithful, and mourning comrades were fired over their graves, with no great interval of time. United in early service, separated by the course of their lives, they were united again in death.

Thomas Lothrop originally lived in the town, between Collins Cove and the North River. He became a member of the First Church in Salem, and was admitted a freeman in 1634. He soon removed to the Farms; and his name appears among the rate-payers at the formation of the village parish. For many years he was deputy from Salem to the General Court; and after Beverly was set off, as his residence at the time was on that side of the line, he was always in the General Court, as deputy from the new town, when his other public employments permitted. No man was ever more identified with the history of the Salem Farms. He contributed to form the structure of its society, and the character of its population, by all that a wise and good man could do. During his whole life in America, he was more or less engaged in the military service, in arduous, difficult, and dangerous positions and operations; acting sometimes against Indians, and sometimes against the French, or, as was usually the case, against them both combined. He was occasionally sent to distant posts; commanding expeditions to the eastward as far as Acadia. He was at one time in charge of a force at Port Royal, now Annapolis, Nova Scotia. Increase Mather calls him a "godly and courageous commander." When the last decisive struggle with King Philip was approaching, and aid was needed from the eastern part of the colony to rescue the settlements on the Connecticut River from utter destruction, the "Flower of Essex" was summoned to the field. It was a choice body of efficient men, "all culled out of the towns belonging to this county," numbering about one hundred men. Lothrop, of course, was their captain. In August, 1675, they were on the ground at Hadley, the place of rendezvous. On the 26th of that month, Captain Lothrop, with his company, and Captain Beers, of Watertown, with his, after a vigorous pursuit, attacked the Indians in a swamp, about ten miles from Hatfield, at the foot of Sugar-Loaf Hill. Ten were killed on the side of the English, and twenty-six on the side of the Indians, who were driven from the swamp, and scattered in their flight; to fall, as was their custom, upon detached settlements; and continuing to waste and destroy, by fire and sword, with hatchet, scalping-knife, torch, and gun. On the 18th of September, Lothrop, with his company, started from Deerfield, to convoy a train of eighteen wagons, loaded with grain, and furniture of the inhabitants seeking refuge from danger, with teamsters and others. Moseley, with his men, remained behind, to scout the woods, and give notice of the approach of Indians; but the stealthy savages succeeded in effecting a complete surprise, and fell upon Lothrop as his wagons were crossing a stream. They poured in a destructive fire from the woods, in all directions. They were seven to one. A perfect carnage ensued. Lothrop fell early in the unequal fight, and only seven or eight of his whole party were left to tell the story of the fatal scene. The locality of this disastrous and sanguinary tragedy has ever since been known as "Bloody Brook." In the list of those who perished by bullet, tomahawk, or arrow, on that fearful morning, we read the names of many village neighbors of the brave and lamented commander,—Thomas Bayley, Edward Trask, Josiah Dodge, Peter Woodbury, Joseph Balch, Thomas Buckley, Joseph King, Robert Wilson, and James Tufts. One of Lothrop's sergeants, who was among the slain, Thomas Smith, then of Newbury, originated in the village. His family had grants of land, including the hill called by their name.

Captain Lothrop was as remarkable for the benevolence of his spirit and the tenderness of his nature as for his wisdom in council, energy in command, or gallantry in battle. Indeed, his character in private life was so beautiful and lovable, that I cannot refrain from leading you into the recesses of his domestic circle. It presents a picture of rare attractiveness. He had no children. His wife was a kind and amiable person. They longed for objects upon which to gratify the yearnings of their affectionate hearts. He had a large estate. His character became known to the neighbors and the country people around. If there was an occurrence calling for commiseration anywhere in the vicinity, it was managed to bring it to his notice. Orphan children were received into his household, and brought up with parental care and tenderness. Many were, in this way, the objects of his charity and affections. Persons especially, who were in any degree connected with his wife's family, naturally conceived the desire to have him adopt their children. This was the case particularly with those who were in straitened circumstances. Others, knowing his disposition, would bring tales of distress and destitution to his ears. Some, perhaps, turned out to be unworthy of his goodness. In one instance, at least, where he had taken a child into his family in its infancy, touched by appeals made to his compassion by the parents, brought it up carefully, watched over its education, and become attached to it, when it had reached an age to be serviceable, the parents claimed and insisted on their right to it, and took it away, much against his will. But the good man's benevolence was not impaired, nor the stream of his affectionate charities checked, by the misconduct or ingratitude of his wards or of their friends. His plan was to do all the good in his power to the children thus brought into his family, to prepare them for usefulness, and start them favorably in life. In the case of boys, he would get them apprenticed to worthy people in useful callings. At the time of his death, there were two grown-up members of his family, who appear to have been foisted upon his care in their earliest childhood. But there was no blame to be attached to them in the premises; and they were regarded by him with much affection. There were no relations of his own in this country in need of charitable aid or without adequate parental protection; and it was not strange that several of his wife's connections should have availed themselves of the benefit of his generous disposition. She herself gives a very interesting account of an instance of this sort, in a deposition found wrapped up among some old papers in the county court-house. The object of the statement was to explain how a connection of hers became domesticated in the family.

"When the child's mother was dead, my husband being with me at my cousin's burial, and seeing our friends in so sad a condition, the poor babe having lost its mother, and the woman that nursed it being fallen sick, I then did say to some of my friends, that, if my husband would give me leave, I could be very willing to take my cousin's little one for a while, till he could better dispose of it; whereupon the child's father did move it to my husband. My dear husband, considering my weakness, and the incumbrance I had in the family, was pleased to return this answer,—that he did not see how it was possible for his wife to undergo such a burden. The next day there came a friend to our house, a woman which gave suck, and she understanding how the poor babe was left, being intreated, was willing to take it to nurse, and forthwith it was brought to her: but it had not been with her three weeks before it pleased the Lord to visit that nurse with sickness also; and the nurse's mother came to me desiring I would take the child from her daughter, and then my dear husband, observing the providence of God, was freely willing to receive her into his house."

At the time when this addition was made to his family, there was certainly already in it another of his wife's connections, who had been brought there when an infant in a manner perhaps equally singular, and who had grown up to maturity. The particular "incumbrance," however, spoken of by her, related to another matter. She was an only daughter. Her father had died many years before, at quite an advanced age. Her mother, who was sickly and infirm as well as aged, was taken immediately into her family, and remained under her roof until her death. In her weak and helpless condition, much care and exertion were thrown upon her daughter. The only objection the captain seemed to have to increasing the burden of the household, by receiving into it this additional child with its nurse, resulted from conjugal tenderness and considerateness. It must be confessed that there are some indications of well-arranged management in the foregoing account. The friend who happened to call at the house the "next day," and who was able to supply what the "poor babe" needed, certainly came very opportunely; and there was altogether a remarkable concurrence and sequence of circumstances. But all that he saw was a case of suffering, helpless innocence, and an opportunity for benevolence and charity; and in these, with a true theology, he read "a providence of God." That child continued, to the hour when he took his last farewell of his family, beneath his roof, and was an object of affectionate care, and in her amiable qualities a source of happiness to him and his good wife. It is stated that the children, thus from time to time domesticated in the family, called him father, and that he addressed them as his children. While they were infants, he was "a tender nursing father" to them. When fondling them in his arms, in the presence of his wife, he would solemnly take notice of the providence of God that had "disposed of them from one place to another" until they had been brought to him; and "would present them in his desires to God, and implore a blessing upon them."

The picture presented in the foregoing details is worth rescuing from oblivion. Such instances of actual life, exhibited in the most private spheres, constitute a branch of history more valuable, in some respects, than the public acts of official dignitaries. History has been too exclusively confined, in its materials, to the movements of states and of armies. It ought to paint the portraits of individual men and women in their common lives; it ought to lead us into the interior of society, and introduce us to the family circles and home experiences of the past. It cannot but do us good to know Thomas Lothrop, not only as an early counsellor among the legislators of the colony, and as having immortalized by his blood a memorable field of battle and slaughter, but as the centre of a happy and virtuous household on a New England farm. He made that home happy by his benignant virtue. Although denied the blessing of children of his own, his fireside was enlivened with the prattle and gayeties of the young. Joy and hope and growth were within his walls. He was not a parent; but his heart was kept warm with parental affections. He had a home where dear ones waited for him, and rushed out to meet and cling round him with loving arms, and welcome him with merry voices, when he returned from the sessions of the General Court, or from campaigns against the French and Indians.

Besides these offices of beneficence in the domestic sphere, we find traces, in the local records, of constant usefulness and kindness among his rural neighbors. He was called, on all occasions, to advise and assist. As a judicious friend, he was relied upon and sought at the bedside of the sick and dying, and in families bereaved of their head. His name appears as a witness to wills, appraiser of estates, trustee and guardian of the young. He was the friend of all. I know not where to find a more perfect union of the hero and the Christian; of all that is manly and chivalrous with all that is tender, benevolent, and devout.

Somewhere about the year 1650, after he had been married a considerable time, he revisited his native country. A sister, Ellen, had, in the mean while, grown up from early childhood; and he found her all that a fond brother could have hoped for. With much persuasion, he besought his mother to allow her to return with him to America. He stated that he had no children; that he would be a father to her, and watch over and care for her as for his own child. At length the mother yielded, and committed her daughter to his custody, not without great reluctance, trusting to his fraternal affection and plighted promise. He brought her over with him to his American home. She was worthy of his love, and he was true to his sacred and precious trust.

Ellen Lothrop became the wife of Ezekiel Cheever, the great schoolmaster; and I should consider myself false to all good learning, if I allowed the name of this famous old man to slip by, without pausing to pay homage to it. His record, as a teacher of a Latin Grammar School, is unrivalled. Twelve years at New Haven, eleven at Ipswich, nine at Charlestown, and more than thirty-eight at Boston,—more than seventy in all,—may it not be safely said that he was one of the very greatest benefactors of America? With Elijah Corlett, who taught a similar school at Cambridge for more than forty years, he bridged over the wide chasm between the education brought with them by the fathers from the old country, and the education that was reared in the new. They fed and kept alive the lamp of learning through the dark age of our history. All the scholars raised here were trained by them. One of Cotton Mather's most characteristic productions is the tribute to his venerated master. It flows from a heart warm with gratitude. "Although he had usefully spent his life among children, yet he was not become twice a child," but held his faculties to the last. "In this great work of bringing our sons to be men, he was my master seven and thirty years ago, was master to my betters no less than seventy years ago; so long ago, that I must even mention my father's tutor for one of them. He was a Christian of the old fashion,—an old New England Christian; and I may tell you, that was as venerable a sight, as the world, since the days of primitive Christianity, has ever looked upon. He lived, as a master, the term which has been, for above three thousand years, assigned for the life of a man." Mather celebrated his praises in a poetical effusion:—

"He lived, and to vast age no illness knew, Till Time's scythe, waiting for him, rusty grew. He lived and wrought; his labors were immense, But ne'er declined to preterperfect tense.

* * * * *

'Tis Corlett's pains, and Cheever's, we must own, That thou, New England, art not Scythia grown."

To our early schoolmasters, as Mather says, and the later too, I may add, it is owing, that the whole country did not become another Scythia.

Ezekiel Cheever was in this country as early as 1637. He was then in New Haven, sharing in the work of the first settlement of that colony, teaching school as his ordinary employment, but sometimes preaching, and in other ways helping to lay the foundations of church and commonwealth. While there, he had a family of several children. The first-born, Samuel, became the minister of Marblehead. In 1650, he was keeping a school at Ipswich. About this time, he lost his wife. On the 18th of November, 1652, he married Ellen, the sister whom Captain Lothrop had brought with him from England. They had several children; one of them, Thomas, was ordained first at Malden, and afterwards at Chelsea. The old schoolmaster died on the 21st of August, 1708, aged ninety-three years and seven months. His son Thomas reached the same age. Samuel, the minister at Marblehead, was eighty-five years old at his death. The name of Ezekiel, jr., appears on the rate-list of the village parish as late as 1731, so that he must have reached the age of at least seventy-seven years.

The antiquarians have been sorely perplexed in determining the relationship of the Cheevers and Reas, as they appear to be connected together as heirs of the Lothrop property, in an order of the General Court of the 11th of June, 1681.

The facts are these: Captain Lothrop married Bethia, daughter of Daniel Rea. He died without issue, and had made no will. As he was killed in battle, his widow undertook to set up a nuncupative will. A snow-storm, on the day appointed to act upon the matter, so blocked up the roads, that neither Ezekiel Cheever nor his son Thomas, who had charge of his mother's rights, could get to Salem; and the court granted administration to the widow. The Cheevers demanded a rehearing: it was granted; and quite an interesting and pertinacious law-suit arose, which was finally carried up to the General Court, who decided it in 1681. The widow does not appear to have been actuated by merely selfish motives, but sought to divert a portion of the landed estate from the only legal heir, Ellen, the wife of Ezekiel Cheever, to other parties, in favor of whom her feelings were much enlisted. There is no indication of any unfriendliness between her and her "sister Cheever."

Lothrop's wife had become much attached to one of her connections, who had been brought into the family. Her husband, having been fond of children, had often expressed great affection for those of her brother, Joshua Rea. He had also sometimes, in expressing his interest in the Beverly Church, evinced a disposition to leave to it "his ten acre lot and his house upon the same," as a parsonage. Perhaps, if he had not been suddenly called away, he might have done something, particularly for the latter object. It appeared in evidence, from her statements and from others, that he had been importuned to make a will, and that it was much on his mind, particularly when recovering from a long and dangerous sickness the winter before his death; but he never could be brought to do it. There was no evidence that he had ever absolutely determined on any thing positively or specifically. His widow, who seems to have been a perfectly honest and truthful woman, testified to a conversation that passed between them on the subject, as they were riding "together towards Wenham, the last spring, in the week before the Court of election." In passing by particular pieces of property owned by him, he indulged in some speculations as to what disposal he should make of this or that pasture or plain or woodland. But she did not represent that his expressions were absolute and determinate, but rather indicative of the then inclination of his mind. In another part of her statement, she said, "I did desire him to make his will, which, when he was sick, I did more than once or twice; and his answer to me was, that he did look upon it as that which was very requisite and fit should be done. But, dear wife, thou hast no cause to be troubled; if I should die and not make a will, it would be never the worse for thee; thyself would have the more." It is not difficult to understand the case as it probably stood in the mind of Captain Lothrop. Whenever the subject of making a will, and doing kind things for the Beverly parish, and the individuals in whose behalf his wife was so anxious, was brought up, he felt the force, as he expressed it, "of the duty which God required of a master of a family to set his house in order;" and he was no doubt strongly moved, and sometimes almost resolved, to gratify her wishes: but he remembered the solemn promise he had made to his mother, as he parted from her for ever, and received his sister from her hands, and every sentiment of honor, and of filial and fraternal love, restrained him; and his mind settled into a conviction that it was his duty to allow his sister the benefit of the final inheritance of his property. As the particular persons to whom his wife wished him to make bequests were her relatives, and the law would give her an ample allowance in the use, for life, of his large landed property, she would be able to provide for them after his death, as he had been in the habit of doing.

The General Court took a just view of the case, and decided that she should have the whole movable estate for her own "use and dispose," and the "use and benefit" for life of the houses and lands, "making no strip nor waste;" after her death, the same to go to Ellen, the wife of Ezekiel Cheever. The widow was to pay all debts due from the estate, and also twenty pounds to the children of her brother, Joshua Rea. The Court seemed to think, that, if any expectations had been excited in that quarter, she was fully as responsible for it as her late husband; and, as the Cheevers were to get nothing, while she lived, out of the estate, the Court required her to pay the sum just named to her nephews and nieces. They ordered Ezekiel Cheever to pay five pounds as costs for their hearing the case, which he did on the spot.

It may be mentioned, by the way, that the widow of Captain Lothrop was married again within eight months of his death; but that was quite usual in those days. She and her new husband concluded that it would be troublesome to take care of Captain Lothrop's several farms. They preferred to live in the town. She was probably over sixty years of age. The conclusion of the whole matter was, that, in consideration of sixty pounds paid down, they surrendered all claim whatever to the "houseing and lands" left by Captain Lothrop, to Cheever and his wife. They conveyed them "free and clear of and from all debts owing from the estate of said Lothrop, and gifts or bequests pretended to be made by him, or by any ways or means to be had, claimed, or challenged therefrom by any person or persons whomsoever." The relict of Captain Lothrop died in 1688.

Ezekiel Cheever and his wife, having thus become possessed of all her brother's real estate, conveyed the lands belonging to it in Salem Village to their son, Ezekiel Cheever, Jr. He had, for some years, been living in the town of Salem, carrying on the business of a tailor. He was a member of the First Church, and appears to have been a respectable person. His dwelling-house stood on the lot in Washington Street occupied by the late Robert Brookhouse. He sold it to the Rev. Nicholas Noyes, on the 14th of April, 1684, removed to the village, took possession of the Lothrop farm, and was there in time to bear a share in the witchcraft delusion.

In 1636, a grant of land was made to Thomas Gardner of one hundred acres. He came to this country as early as 1624, and resided at Cape Ann. Subsequently he removed to Salem, and, with his wife, was admitted to the church. He was deputy to the General Court in 1637. His grant was in the western part of the township, and embraced land included within the limits of Salem Village. The name still remains on the same territory. His sons became proprietors of several additional tracts in the neighborhood. One of them, Joseph, is connected, in the most conspicuous and interesting manner, with our military history.

The destruction of Captain Lothrop and his company, on the 18th of September, filled the country with grief and consternation; and, as the year 1675 drew towards a close, the conviction became general, that the crisis of the fate of the colonies was near at hand. The Indians were carrying all before them. Philip was spreading conflagration, devastation, and slaughter around the borders, and striking sudden and deadly blows into the heart of the country. It was evident that he was consolidating the Indian power into irresistible strength. Among papers on file in the State House is a letter addressed to the governor and council, dated at Mendon, Oct. 1, 1675, from Lieutenant Phinehas Upham, of Malden. In command of a company, acting under Captain Gorham of Barnstable, who had also a company of his own, he had been on a scout for Indians beyond Mendon, which was a frontier town. Their route had been over a sweep of territory then an almost unbroken wilderness, embracing the present sites of Grafton, Worcester, Oxford, and Dudley. The result of the exploration is thus given: "Now, seeing that in all our marches we find no Indians, we verily think that they are drawn together into great bodies far remote from these parts." From other scouting parties, it became evident that this opinion was correct, and that the Indians were collecting stores and assembling their warriors somewhere, to fall upon the colonies at the first opening of spring. Further information made it certain, that their place of gathering was in the Narragansett country, in the south-westerly part of the colony of Rhode Island. There was no alternative but, as a last effort, to strike the enemy at that point, with the utmost available force. A thousand men were raised, 527 by Massachusetts, 315 by Connecticut, and 158 by Plymouth. Massachusetts organized a company of cavalry and six companies of foot soldiers, Connecticut five and Plymouth two companies of foot. All were placed under the command of Governor Winslow, of Plymouth. The winter had set in earlier than usual; much snow had fallen, and the weather was extremely cold. The seven companies of Massachusetts, under the command of Major Samuel Appleton of Ipswich, started on their march, Dec. 10. On the evening of the 12th, having effected a junction with the Plymouth companies, they reached the rendezvous, on the north side of Wickford Hill, in North Kingston, R.I. On the 13th, Winslow commenced his move upon the enemy. On the 18th, the Connecticut troops joined him. His army was complete; the enemy was known to be near, and all haste made to reach him. The snow was deep. The Narragansetts were intrenched on a somewhat elevated piece of ground of five or six acres in area, surrounded by a swamp, within the limits of the present town of South Kingston. The Indian camp was strongly fortified by a double row of palisades, about a rod apart, and also by a thick hedge. There was but a single entrance known to our troops, which could only be reached, one at a time, over a slanting log or felled tree, slippery from frost and falling snow, about six feet above a ditch. There were other passages, known only to the Indians, by which they could steal out, a few at a time, and get a shot at our people in the flank and rear. Many of our men were cut off in this way. The allied forces had expected to pass the night, previous to reaching the hostile camp, at a garrison about fifteen miles distant from that point; but the Indians had destroyed the buildings, and slaughtered the occupants, seventeen in number, two days before. Here the troops passed the night, unsheltered from the bitter weather. The next day, Dec. 19, was Sunday; but their provisions were exhausted, and the supply they had expected to find had been destroyed with the garrison-house. There could be no delay. They recommenced their march, at half-past five o'clock in the morning, through the deep snow, which continued falling all day, and reached the borders of what was described, by a writer well acquainted with it, as "a hideous swamp." Fortunately, the early and long-continued extreme cold weather of that winter had rendered it more passable than it otherwise would have been. But the ground was rough, and very difficult to traverse. They were chilled and worn by their long march, following winding paths through thick woods, across gullies, and over hills and fields. It was between one and two o'clock in the afternoon, and the short winter day was wearing away. Winslow saw the position at a glance, and, by the promptness of his decision, proved himself a great captain. He ordered an instant assault. The Massachusetts troops were in the van; the Plymouth, with the commander-in-chief, in the centre; the Connecticut, in the rear. The Indians had erected a block-house near the entrance, filled with sharp-shooters, who also lined the palisades. The men rushed on, although it was into the jaws of death, under an unerring fire. The block-house told them where the entrance was. The companies of Moseley and Davenport led the way. Moseley succeeded in passing through. Davenport fell beneath three fatal shots, just within the entrance. Isaac Johnson, captain of the Roxbury company, was killed while on the log. But death had no terrors to that army. The centre and rear divisions pressed up to support the front and fill the gaps; and all equally shared the glory of the hour. Enough survived the terrible passage to bring the Indians to a hand-to-hand fight within the fort. After a desperate struggle of nearly three hours, the savages were driven from their stronghold; and, with the setting of that sun, their power was broken. Philip's fortunes had received a decided overthrow, and the colonies were saved. In all military history, there is not a more daring exploit. Never, on any field, has more heroic prowess been displayed. By the best computations, the Indian loss was at least one thousand, including the large numbers who perished from cold, as they scattered in their flight without shelter, food, or place of refuge. Of the colonial force, over eighty were killed, and one hundred and fifty wounded. Three of the Massachusetts captains—Johnson, Gardner, and Davenport—were killed on the spot. Three of the Connecticut captains—John Gallop, Samuel Marshall, and Robert Seely—also fell in the fight. Captain William Bradford, of Plymouth, was wounded by a musket-ball, which he carried in his body to his grave. Captain John Gorham, also of the Plymouth colony, was shortly after carried off by a fever, occasioned by the over-exhaustion of the march and the battle. Lieutenant Phinehas Upham, of Johnson's company, was mortally wounded. Great value appears to have been attached to the services of this officer. In the hurried preparation for the campaign, Captain Johnson had nominated his brother as his lieutenant. The General Court overruled the appointment. Johnson cheerfully acquiesced, and, in a paper addressed to the Court, assured them that he "most readily submitted to their choice of Lieutenant Upham." This single passage is an imperishable eulogium upon the characters of the two brave men who gave their lives to the country on that fatal but glorious day.

Captain Gardner's company was raised in this neighborhood. Joseph Peirce and Samuel Pikeworth of Salem, and Mark Bachelder of Wenham, were killed before entering the fort. Abraham Switchell of Marblehead, Joseph Soames of Cape Ann, and Robert Andrews of Topsfield, were killed at the fort. Charles Knight, Thomas Flint, and Joseph Houlton, Jr., of Salem Village; Nicholas Hakins and John Farrington, of Lynn; Robert Cox, of Marblehead; Eben Baker and Joseph Abbot, of Andover; Edward Harding, of Cape Ann; and Christopher Read, of Beverly,—were wounded. An account of the death of Captain Gardner, in detail, has been preserved. The famous warrior, and final conqueror of King Philip, Benjamin Church, was in the fight as a volunteer, rendered efficient service, and was wounded. His "History of King Philip's War" is reprinted, by John Kimball Wiggin, as one of his series of elegant editions of rare and valuable early colonial publications entitled "Library of New England History." In the second number, Part I. of Church's history is edited by Henry Martyn Dexter. Church's account of what came within his observation in this fight, with the notes of the learned editor, is the most valuable source of information we have in reference to it. He says, that, in the heat of the battle, he came across Gardner, "amidst the wigwams in the east end of the fort, making towards him; but, on a sudden, while they were looking each other in the face, Captain Gardner settled down." He instantly went to him. The blood was running over his cheek. Church lifted up his cap, calling him by name. "Gardner looked up in his face, but spoke not a word, being mortally shot through the head." The widow of Captain Gardner (Ann, sister of Sir George Downing) became the successor of Ann Dudley, the celebrated poetess of her day, by marrying Governor Bradstreet, in 1680. She died in 1713.

There is a curious parallelism between the first and the last great victory over the Indian power in the history of America. An interval of one hundred and sixty one years separates them. On the 19th of December, 1836,—the anniversary of the day when Winslow stormed the Narragansett fort,—Colonel Taylor received his orders to pursue the Florida Indians. It was a last attempt to subdue them. They had long baffled and defied the whole power of the United States. Every general in the army had laid down his laurels in inglorious and utter failure. He started on the 20th, with an army of about one thousand men. On the 25th, he found himself on the edge of a swamp, impassable by artillery or horses. On the opposite side were the Indian warriors, ready to deal destruction, if he should attempt to cross the swamp. He had the same question to decide which Winslow had; and he decided it in the same way, with equal promptness. The struggle lasted about the same time; and the loss, in proportion to the numbers engaged, was about the same. The results were alike permanently decisive. Okee-cho-bee stands by the side of Narragansett, and the names of Josiah Winslow and Zachary Taylor are imperishably inscribed together on the tablets of military glory.

Dr. Palfrey says that Captain Nathaniel Davenport was a son of "Davenport of the Pequot War." He was born in Salem, and brought up in the village. His name, with those of his brave father, and his associate in youth and in death Joseph Gardner, belongs to our local annals. They were both the idols of their men. Davenport was dressed, when he fell, in a "full buff suit," and was probably thought by the Indians to be the commander-in-chief. On receiving his triple wound, he called his lieutenant, Edward Tyng, to him, gave him his gun in charge, delivered over to him the command of his company, and died.

There has been some uncertainty on the point whether Nathaniel Davenport was a son of Richard, the commandant at the castle. The fact that he was associated with William Stoughton, and Stephen Minot whose wife was a daughter of Richard Davenport, as an administrator of the estate of the latter, has been regarded as rendering it probable. Dr. Palfrey's unhesitating statement to that effect is, of itself, enough to settle the question. There is, moreover, a document on file which proves that he is correct. Nathaniel's widow had some difficulty in settling his estate, and applied to the General Court for its interposition. Quite a mass of papers belong to the case. Among them is a bill of expenses incurred by her in connection with his funeral charges, such as, "twenty-one rings to relatives," and to those "who took care to bring him off slain, eight pounds;" and "for mourning for my mother Davenport, sisters Minot and Elliot, and myself, sixteen pounds." This latter item is decisive, as we know that two of Richard Davenport's daughters married persons of those names. It is a circumstance of singular interest, as showing by how slight an accident—for it is a mere accident—important questions of history are sometimes determinable. This item, so far as I have been able to find, is the only absolute evidence we have to the point that Richard was the father of Nathaniel Davenport; and it would not have been in existence, had not questions arisen in the settlement of the estate of the latter requiring the action of the General Court. The record of baptisms in the First Church at Salem, prior to 1636, is lost. The names of Richard Davenport's children, baptized subsequent to that date, are in the records of the Salem or Boston churches. As Nathaniel is understood to have been one of the earliest born, the record of his baptism was probably in the lost part of the Salem book.

It may be thought surprising, that so little appears to have been known concerning an officer of his rank and parentage, and whose death has rendered his name so memorable. To account for it, I must recur to the history of the Narragansett expedition. No military organization was ever more rapidly effected, or more thoroughly and promptly executed its work. The commissioners of the three united colonies were satisfied that the Indian rendezvous at Narragansett, where their forces and stores were being collected and their resources concentrated, must be struck at without a moment's delay; that the blow must be swift and decisive; that it must be struck then, in the depth of winter; that, if deferred to the spring, all would be lost; that, if the Indian power was allowed to remain and to gather strength until the next season, nothing could save the settlements from destruction. Early in November, they formed their plan, and put the machinery for summoning all their utmost resources into instant action. On the 30th of November, the officers appointed for the purpose made return, that they had impressed the required number in the several counties and towns, fitted them out with arms, ammunition, clothes, and all necessary equipments; that the men were on the ground, ready to go forward. There was no time for recruiting, or raising bounties, or substitute brokerage; no time for electioneering to get commissions. The rank and file were ready: they had been brought in by a process that gave no time for canvassing for offices. A summons had been left at the house of every drafted man, to report himself the next morning. If any one failed to appear, some other member of the family, brother or father, had to take his place. The organizing and officering of this force must be done instanter. All depended upon suitable officers being selected. A company was waiting at Boston for a captain, and a captain must be found. Some one in authority happened to think of Nathaniel Davenport. His childhood and youth had been passed at Salem Village and on Castle Island: on reaching maturity, he had removed to New York, and been there for years in commercial pursuits. A short time before, he had returned to Boston, and engaged in business there. His father had been dead since 1665, and not many persons knew him,—only, perhaps, a few of his early associates, and the old friends of his father: but they knew, that, from his birth to his manhood, he had breathed a military atmosphere,—was a soldier, by inheritance, of the school of Lothrop, Read, and Trask; and it was determined at once to hunt him up. He was serving at Court; taken out of the jury-box in a pending trial; and placed at the head of the company. The accurate historian of Boston, Samuel G. Drake, says, "Captain Davenport's men were extremely grieved at the death of their leader; he having, by his courteous carriage, much attached them to himself, although he was a stranger to most of them when he was appointed their captain. On which occasion he made 'a very civil speech,' and allowed them to choose their sergeants themselves." He had no time to settle his accounts, arrange his affairs, or confer with any one, but led his company at once to the rendezvous. These circumstances, perhaps, partially explain why so little seems to have been known of him in Boston, or to local writers.

Besides Captains Gardner and Davenport and the men whose names have been mentioned as killed or wounded, there were in the Narragansett fight the following from Salem Village and its farming neighborhood: John Dodge, William Dodge, William Raymond, Thomas Raymond, John Raymond, Joseph Herrick, Thomas Putnam, Jr., Thomas Abbey, Robert Leach, and Peter Prescott. There may have been others: no full roll is on record. The foregoing are gathered from partial returns miscellaneously collected in the files at the State House. The Dodges (sometimes the name is written Dodds, which appears, I think, to have been its original form), and the Raymonds (sometimes written Rayment), were, from the first, conspicuous in military affairs. A few words explanatory of their relation to the village may be here properly given.