While it is a fact, overlooked by the enthusiasts on this subject, that no such national law can be passed without an amendment to the constitution, since the passage of such an act would be an invasion of the rights reserved to the several states; yet in view of this widespread interest in the question, the development and present condition of the laws regulating divorce in our own Commonwealth becomes an interesting matter of inquiry. While such a discussion has little or nothing to do directly with the moral aspects of the subject, it is well to note in passing that the doctrine of the indissolubility of the marriage relation was not made a tenet of the church until as late as 1653. The Mosaic Law made the husband the sole judge of the cause for which the woman might lawfully be "put away," and many Bibical scholars of great attainments have maintained that when rightly interpreted the words of Christ do not restrict divorce to the single cause of actual adultery, while elsewhere in the New Testament divorce for desertion is expressly sanctioned.

The Roman Catholic Church, while it pronounced the marriage tie indissoluble, at the same time reserved to the Pope the right to grant absolute divorce, a right which was often exercised for reward, while her Ecclesiastical Courts in the meantime declared many marriages null and void upon so-called impediments established solely upon the confession of one or the other of the parties seeking divorce. This course is hard to explain satisfactorily if we admit a sincere belief in the justice of her own dogma. It was from this practice of the Church that came the custom of granting partial divorce, or, as it was termed, divorce from bed and board—a divorce which was one only in name, and made a bad matter worse, surrounding both parties with temptations, and being, as it has been said, an insult to any man of ordinary feelings and understanding. It was, to be sure, an attempt to comply with the established doctrine of the Church, but it was a compromise with common-sense. To this same source may be traced the curious procedure in England, known as a suit for the restoration of conjugal rights, wherein a husband or wife, who, being unable to obtain a a genuine divorce, had separated from his or her partner for cause, might be compelled by the power of the law to return to the "bliss too lightly-esteemed."

There is one state in our Union in which, as one of her Judges puts it, "to her unfading honor," not a single divorce has been granted for any cause since the Revolution. But the fact remains, not so much to her unfading honor, perhaps, that she has found it necessary to regulate by statute the proportion of his property which a married man may bestow upon his concubine, while at the same time adultery is not an indictable offence. Another of her Judges has said from the bench, "We often see men of excellent characters unfortunate in their marriages, and virtuous women abandoned or driven away houseless by their husbands, who would be doomed to celibacy and solitude if they did not form connections which the law does not allow, and who make excellent husbands and wives still."

This judicial utterance makes an excellent basis for the statement that it is better to adapt the law to facts as we find them, than to proceed on the principle that as there is no redress called for save where there is a wrong, if we do not allow the redress, there will, of course, be no wrong. There is no escape from the conclusion that divorce or irregular connections will prevail in every community; why not agree with Milton that honest liberty is the greatest foe to dishonest license?

When the founders of the new Commonwealth came to these shores they brought with them of necessity the laws of the mother country, and so we shall find that the divorce laws of England, as they existed at that time, were the early laws of the colonies of Plymouth and Massachusetts Bay. The Ecclesiastical courts of England were invested with full jurisdiction of all matters of divorce, but from about the year 1601 they had steadily refused to grant an absolute divorce for any cause whatever, although they as constantly granted divorce from bed and board, allusion to which has already been made; that is, they decreed a judicial separation of man and wife, which freed the parties from the society of each other, but at the same time left upon them all the obligations of the marriage vow as to third parties. Finally, when divorce was sought for cause of adultery, resort was had to parliament, and in 1669 an absolute divorce for that cause was granted by that body for the first time. This mode of procedure was, of course, a most expensive one, and during the seventeenth century but three decrees absolute were granted, the parties in each belonging to the peerage and the cause being the same.

In cases arising in the early history of the colonies we should therefore expect to find the law as I have briefly sketched it as existing in England, and as there were then no courts exercising the functions of the Ecclesiastical Courts we might safely look for the exercise of these powers by the Court of Deputies, or General Court, which was at that time not simply a deliberative body, but also a court of most extensive and varied jurisdiction, in matters both civil and criminal. This was precisely the fact; the records show that in 1652 Mrs. Dorothy Pester presented to the General Court her petition for leave to marry again, giving as her reason the fact that her husband had sailed for England some ten years before, and had not been heard from since. The court decreed that liberty be granted her to marry, "when God in his providence shall afford her the opportunity." In 1667 the same court refused to grant a like petition, for the reason that they were not satisfied by the evidence that the husband had not been heard from for three years.

One year prior to this appears the first record of a divorce in the Plymouth colony, which, taken in connection with the two cases just referred to, throws a bright light on the unwritten laws then regulating this matter. Elizabeth, wife of John Williams, appeared with a petition asking for a divorce, and complaining of her husband because of his great abuse of, and "unaturall carryages towards her, in that by word and deed he had defamed her character and had refused to perform his duty towards her according to what the laws of God and man requireth." Her husband appeared and demanded trial of the issue by jury, who found the complaint to be just and true. Thereupon the deputies "proseeded to pase centance" against him as follows: "that it is not safe or convenient for her to live with him and we doe give her liberty att present to depart from him unto her friends untill the court shall otherwise order or he shall behave himself in such a way that she may be better satisfyed to returne to him againe." He must also "apparell her suitably at present and provide her with a bed and bedding and allow her ten pounds yearly to maintaine her while she shall bee thus absent from him," and to ensure the faithful performance of the decree of the court he must "put in cecurities" or one third of his estate must be secured to her comfort. As he has also defamed his wife and otherwise abused her, it is further decreed that he must stand in the market place near the post, with an inscription in large letters over his head which shall declare to all the world his unworthy behavior towards his wife. And as though the poor man was not yet sufficiently punished they go on to say that "Inasmuch as these his wicked carriages have been contrary to the lawes of God and man, and very disturbing and expensive to this government, we doe amerce him to pay a fine of twenty pounds to the use of the Colonie." One is inclined to think upon reading this rather severe "centance" that if the law of our day was somewhat similar the divorce docket would not be so long as at present.

I have cited this case at considerable length for the reason that it shows that the divorces then granted, even in aggravated cases, were from bed and board, and that the right of the wife to a certain portion of the property of her husband was recognized and enforced. The other cases show that cruel and abusive treatment and absence unexplained for the term of three years were then as now considered good grounds on which to seek separation.

The first legislation in our state bearing directly on our subject appears to have been in 1692, when it it was provided that all controversies concerning marriage and divorce should be heard and determined by the Governor and Council, thus changing simply the tribunal without affecting the existing laws. Curiously enough, although the tribunal which should determine the controversies was thus fixed, there was no provision made for enforcing its decrees, and it was thus left practically powerless for sixty-two years, or until 1754, when this defect in the law was remedied by a provision that refusal or neglect to obey the decrees of the Governor and Council might be punished like contempt of courts of law and equity by imprisonment.

In 1693 were passed the first statutes regulating the subject of marriage in the colony, the preamble to which was as follows: "Although this court doth not take in hand to determine what is the whole bredth of the divine commandment respecting marriage, yet, for preventing the abominable dishonesty and confusion which might otherwise happen," certain marriages are declared to be unlawful and the issue thereof illegitimate, and severe and degrading punishments are provided for all offenders, even although innocent of any wrong intent.

As the population of the colony increased and spread over the country at a distance from Boston, the fact that the only court having jurisdiction of matters of divorce and marriage was held only in that town was the cause of ever-increasing inconvenience, and accordingly it was enacted in 1786 that "whereas, it is a great expense to the people of this state to be obliged to attend at Boston upon all questions of divorce, when the same might be done within the counties where the parties live, and where the truth might be better discovered by having the parties in court," jurisdiction in all matters of divorce should be vested in the Supreme Judicial Court, where it has ever since remained in spite of efforts made at various times to give to other courts concurrent or even exclusive jurisdiction. As the Supreme Judicial Court is now overworked, and as it is not deemed advisable, for various reasons, to increase its numbers, it is more than probable, in view of the increase in the number of libels annually filed, that some modification of our laws will soon be made which shall give the entire jurisdiction of this matter either to the Superior Court or to the Judges of Probate in the several counties. Governor Robinson called the attention of the Legislature to the importance of some change in this direction in his last message, and urged speedy action.

The act of 1786, above alluded to, fixed the causes of divorce at two—adultery or impotency of either of the parties, but allowed a divorce from bed and board for extreme cruelty. To this was added in 1810 the further cause of desertion, or refusal to furnish proper support to the wife. To the two causes above named the Legislature of 1836 added a third, namely, the imprisonment of either party for the term of seven years or more at hard labor.

In 1698 it had been provided that in case of three years' absence at sea, when the voyage set out upon was not usually of more than three months' duration, the man or woman whose relation was in this way parted from him might be considered single and unmarried. In 1838 wilful desertion for five years was added to the then existing causes for absolute divorce, in favor of the innocent party, and in 1850 yet another cause was added by providing that if either party separated from the other and for three years remained united with any religious sect or society believing or professing to believe that the relation of husband and wife is void and unlawful, a full divorce might be granted to the other.

The law remained thus for ten years, or until the adoption of the General Statutes in 1860, when desertion for five years was made ground for granting a divorce to the deserting party also, provided it could be shown that such desertion was due to the cruelty of the other, or in case of the wife, to the failure of the husband to properly provide for her. Divorce from bed and board was also authorized for extreme cruelty, complete desertion, gross and confirmed habits of intoxication, if contracted after the marriage, and neglect of the husband to provide for his wife. Such limited divorces might be made absolute after five years' separation, on petition of the party to whom the divorce was granted, and after ten years on that of the guilty party. There was no change in these laws until 1870, when limited divorce, a relic of churchly superstition, was done away with entirely in this State, the grounds upon which it had been granted being at the same time made cause for absolute divorce, with the condition, however, that all such divorces should be in the first instance nisi, that is, conditional, to be made absolute after three years in the discretion of the court, and after five years as of right. Prior to this time, in 1867, it had been enacted that all decrees of divorce should be first entered nisi, to be made absolute in six months in the discretion of the court, and this act of 1870 therefore left nine causes for absolute divorce; but in all cases for cruelty, desertion, intoxication, or neglect or refusal to support, the decree must remain conditional for at least three years. Since that date there have been many changes in the statutes, but all in the direction of regulating the entry of the decree, without affecting the causes therefor, except that in 1873, habits of intoxication, even if contracted before marriage, were made good grounds for a decree.

The law of 1841, which remained in force until 1853, forbad the marriage of the party for whose fault divorce was granted during the lifetime of the innocent partner; but in the latter year the court was authorized to allow the guilty party, except in cases of adultery, to remarry; and in 1864 it was provided that even in such cases the guilty one might marry after three years, unless actually tried and convicted of the crime. In 1873 even this restriction of three years was removed, and the law remained so until 1881, when it was enacted that the guilty party in all cases might marry after two years without the formality of applying to the court for leave so to do.

From this brief review of the history of our law there is but one conclusion to be drawn, that slowly but surely the doors to divorce have been opened until it has become a comparatively easy matter to obtain that relief which for so many years was absolutely refused. A few statistics will illustrate this: In the year 1863 there were in the state 10,873 marriages and 207 divorces; in 1882 there were 17,684 marriages and 515 divorces, or an increase in the former of 62.6 per cent., and of the latter of 147.6 per cent., while the population of the state increased in the same time 53.4 per cent. Since the legislation of 1870, which, as we have seen above, made divorce obtainable on nine grounds, the increase in the number of decrees granted has been 36 per cent., while in the same period marriages have increased but 20 per cent.

During this twenty years 79 per cent. of all divorces granted were for adultery and desertion, and of those granted for the first-mentioned cause only a trifle over one-half were for the fault of the man; while, contrary to a widely-prevalent belief, the record shows that of the decrees entered for that cause the proportion is greater in the country districts than in our cities. In the same period the highest ratio of divorce to marriage has been one to twenty-three, and the lowest one to thirty-three, the average for the whole time being one to thirty-one; but in Suffolk County, comprising the cities of Boston and Chelsea and the towns of Winthrop and Revere, the average has been only one to forty-one and nine-tenths. These statistics are indeed startling, and may be easily used as a foundation for an argument that our laws governing the matter are far too lenient, since the number of divorces is so apparently excessive.

But on the other hand is it not as fair an inference from all the facts, that beyond and deeper than any provisions of the law there is something wrong in society itself; that we must look for the real root of the trouble in the influences which are operating upon our social life as a people? Our Judges who administer the law are learned, of great experience in the matter of weighing evidence, careful and conscientious. The laws are carefully framed to prevent collusion between the parties, and especially to render it difficult to obtain a divorce for the groundless desertion of the party seeking the separation; in fact they are far in advance of the laws of many of our sister states, and it has been truly said that the divorce laws of this Commonwealth have kept pace with the improved understanding of the condition of the people, and have been wisely framed to meet the many causes which exist in modern life to break up the domestic relations.

There is not one of our statutory causes for divorce which could be stricken out without a certainty of inflicting legal cruelty in the future. Of all our divorces nearly seventy per cent, are upon petition of the wife; and it can be safely said that nearly all will agree that to compel a woman to submit to the cruelty and brutalities of a drunken or profligate husband, is not only inflicting upon her legal cruelty, but has an influence which extends beyond the individual and is powerful for evil upon those who are to come after us.

Strangely enough as our educational advantages have increased, as more avenues of self support have been opened to women, so has the ratio of divorce to marriage also grown larger, thus apparently furnishing conclusive proof that it is not legislative reform that is now needed. It is not necessary to argue that no legislation can operate in any way to strengthen those family ties which have their foundation in the social and domestic affections. On the other hand, any thing in the direction of education of the young tending to strengthen love of home and domestic life, and to do away with the prevalent tendency to what has been termed individualism, will be a step in the right path and will aid in lessening the evils which so many wrongly ascribe to faulty legislation. If any further proof of this fact is needed it is found in the knowledge that by far the larger part of the seekers for relief come from our native population, while none but those who have some practical experience in the realities of the divorce court room can know how intolerable are the burdens from which this relief is sought.

* * * * *



SHEM DROWNE AND HIS HANDIWORK.

By Elbridge H. Goss.

The weird imaginings and romantic theories of our great story-teller, Hawthorne, must not be taken as veritable and indisputable history. Some of the Boston newspapers have recently run riot in this respect. Hawthorne, in his "Drowne's Wooden Image," in "Mosses from an Old Manse," says the figure of "Admiral Vernon," which has stood on the corner of State and Broad streets, Boston, for over a century, was the handiwork of one Shem Browne, "a cunning carver of wood." Upon this statement of the romancer, for there is no authentic history to warrant it, one paper, in an article entitled "A Funny Old Man," says: "Deacon Shem Drowne, the Carver. Concerning the origin of the carved figure of Admiral Vernon there can be no doubt. History, ancient records, and fiction all record the presence in Boston of one Deacon Shem Drowne, whose business it was to supply the tradesmen and tavern-keepers of the day with similar carved images to indicate their calling, or by which to identify their places of business."[1]

Another, discoursing of this same image, as "Our Oldest Inhabitant," after attributing it to the same man's workmanship, states: "Deacon Shem Drowne, whose name suggests pious and patriarchal, if not nautical associations, carved the grasshopper which still holds its place over Faneuil Hall, and also the gilded Indian,[2] who, with his bow bent and arrow on the string, so long kept watch and ward over the Province House, the stately residence of the royal Governors of Massachusetts."[3] This writer repeatedly spells the name wrong. His name was Drowne, not Droune.[4] In "Drowne's Wooden Image," Hawthorne makes his Shem Drowne a wood-carver, plain and simple: "He became noted for carving ornamental pump heads, and wooden urns for gate posts, and decorations, more grotesque than fanciful, for mantle pieces." "He followed his business industriously for many years, acquired a competence, and in the latter part of his life attained to a dignified station in the church, being remembered in records and traditions as Deacon Drowne, the carver," and he connects him with the real Shem Drowne of history, only by speaking of him this once as "Deacon Drowne," and saying: "One of his productions, an Indian Chief, gilded all over, stood during the better part of a century on the cupola of the Province House, bedazzling the eyes of those who looked upward, like an angel of the sun;" plainly indicating that he thought the Indian was carved from wood, instead of being made, as it was, of hammered copper.

The real Shem Drowne was not a wood-carver; no authority for such a statement can be found. His trade is given as that of a "tin plate worker,"[5] and a "cunning artificer" in metal;[6] nowhere as a wood-carver. He was born in Kittery, Maine, in 1683. His father was Leonard Drowne, who came from the west of England to Kittery, where he carried on the ship building business until 1692, when, on account of the French and Indian wars, he removed his family to Boston, where he died, a few years after, and his grave is in the old Copp's Hill Burying Ground.[7] At Boston Shem Browne established himself in his trade. He was elected a deacon of the First Baptist Church, in 1721. He was "often employed in Town affairs, especially in the management of Fortifications."[8]

He married Catherine Clark, one of the heirs of Nicholas Bavison, of Charlestown, who was a purchaser in the "Pemaquid Patent," or grant of the Plymouth Company, of some twelve thousand acres, to Messrs. Aldsworth and Elbridge of Bristol, England, made in 1631. Becoming interested in the claim of his wife, as one of the heirs, in 1735, he was appointed agent and attorney of the "Pemaquid Proprietors," in which capacity he acted for many years. It was sometimes called the "Drowne Claim." In 1747 he had the whole tract of land surveyed, and was instrumental in causing forty or more families to settle in that region. That he became blind, or nearly so, as early as 1762, is attested by a deed of land at Broad Cove (Bristol, Maine), made in that year to Thomas Johnston; a note in the margin of which states that it was "distinctly read to him on account of his sight;"[9] but the signature is written in a large, plain hand. He died January 13, 1774, aged ninety-one years. He had a daughter, Sarah, who, in 1757, was married to Rev. Jeremiah Condy, who, from 1739 to 1764, was pastor of the First Baptist Church, of which church Mr. Drowne was a deacon. As a metal worker he made the grasshopper, Indian, and other vanes; but that he ever carved a pump head, urn, gate-post, "Admiral Vernon," or any other wooden image, there is not a scintilla of evidence; nothing but the figment of a romancer's brain.

The following letter to his nephew, Honorable Solomon Drowne of Providence, Rhode Island, is here printed by the kindness of Henry T. Drowne, Esq., of New York, who has many of the old papers of the Drowne families. It was written soon after his nephew's marriage, and is an interesting document; full of a sympathetic and kindly spirit; showing that the customs of his church, the Baptist, of that day, were very similar to those of the Evangelical churches of to-day; and gives an instance of "Catholic Christian Spirit" worthy of note. The use of the colon instead of the period is also noticeable:

BOSTON [Massachusetts],

August y'e 18, 1732.

LOVING KINSMAN:

Yours I received and have considered the Contents, and pray that your spouse may be directed and assisted by the grace and holy spirit of God to live in all good conscience before Him and this being the indispensable Duty of everyone when come to the use of Reason, with all seriousness to search the Scriptures, from thence to learn our Duty; and, then with Humility to devote ourselves to God, which is our reasonable Service; and, this being the awfulest solemnity that poor mortal man ever transacts in, whilst in this world: being to enter into Covenant with the Most High God. In the Concernment of a precious soul for a vast Eternity, ought to be entered upon with earnest prayer to God for his grace, that it may be sufficient for us, and that His strength might be made perfect in weakness: As for the order in which our Church admits Members into Communion: the Person who desires to joyn to the Church stands propounded a fortnight, in which time inquiry is made concerning their Life and Conversation: then they appear before the Church, make Confession, with their mouth, of their Repentance toward God, and their faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ: and, if nothing appears by information contrary to their Confession, then they are approved of by a vote of the Church, with all readiness; and so partake of the Holy ordinances—Baptism and the Lord's Supper.

Our breaking-bread day is always on the first Sabbath in every month, and, always on the Friday before it, we have a Church Meeting, which is carried on by prayer, in order to prepare for our approach to the Lord's table: at which Meetings those are sometimes heard and sometimes on the Sabbath, as circumstances best serve—so that any Person at a Distance may send to our minister to propound them to the Church timely, and order their coming, so as to partake of both ordinances on the same day: The Reverend Mr. Cotton of Newton, on occasion of a man of his Parish desiring to join in Communion with our Church, gave him a Letter of Recommendation, not as a member with him, but as of one in Judgment of Charity qualified by the grace of God to be received amongst us: which the Church received as a mark of his Catholic Christian Spirit.

That you and your spouse may be directed to do what may be most for the glory of God: and for your own Peace and Comfort, both for time and Eternity: that you may both walk in all the commands and ordinances of the Lord blameless is the Prayer and Desire of your loving uncle.

SHEM DROWNE.

Two of the three best known weather vanes made by Drowne, are still on duty; and one, the Indian chief, which for so many years decked the Province House, is now the property of the Massachusetts Historical Society, in one of the rooms of which it is to be seen, still swinging on its original pivot. From the sole of his foot to the top of his plume, it is four feet, six inches; and from his elbow to tip of arrow, four feet; weight forty-eight pounds.

The old grasshopper on Fanueil Hall[10] was made in 1742, and has veered with the winds and been beaten by the storms of one hundred and forty odd years. It was last repaired in 1852, when there was found within it a much-defaced paper, only a part of which could be read:

SHEM DROWNE MADE ITT

May 25, 1742

To my Brethren and Fellow Grasshoppers

Fell in y'e year 1755 Nov 15th day from y'e Market by a great Earthquake ... sing ... sett a ... by my old Master above.

Again Like to have Met with my Utter Ruin by Fire, but hopping Timely from my Publick Situation came of with Broken bones, and much Bruised, Cured and again fixed....

Old Master's Son Thomas Drowne June 28th, 1763. And Although I now promise to Play ... Discharge my Office, yet I shall vary as ye wind.[11]

The other one still in use is the old "Cockerel" of Hanover Street Church fame. This was made for the New Brick Church in 1721, and is the oldest of the three. It held its position on this church and its successors, one of which was long known as the "Cockerel Church," for one hundred and forty-eight years, when it was raised on the Shepard Memorial Church of Cambridge, where it now is. "It measures five feet four inches from bill to tip of tail, and stands five feet five inches from the foot of the socket to the top of comb, and weighs one hundred and seventy-two pounds."[12]

Possibly some other specimens of the handiwork of this good Deacon Shem Drowne are still in existence. Who knows?

[Footnote 1: Boston Globe, October 18, 1884.]

[Footnote 2: Neither of these were carved; they were both of metal.]

[Footnote 3: Boston Evening Record, January 10, 1885.]

[Footnote 4: Fac-similes of his signature are given in "Memorial History of Boston," vol. II, p. 110, written in 1733, and in John Johnston's "History of Bristol, Bremen and the Pemaquid Plantation," p. 466, written in 1762.]

[Footnote 5: Johnston's "Bristol and Bremen."]

[Footnote 6: Samuel Adams Drake's "Old Landmarks of Boston," p. 135.]

[Footnote 7: Mss. letter of Henry T. Drowne, Esq., of New York.]

[Footnote 8: Samuel G. Drake's "History of Boston."]

[Footnote 9: History of "Bristol and Bremen."]

[Footnote 10: Drake in "Old Landmarks," says: "the grasshopper was long thought to be the crest of the Faneuils."]

[Footnote 11: Boston Daily Advertiser, December 3, 1852.]

[Footnote 12: Historical and Genealogical Register, vol. XXVII, p. 422.]

* * * * *



THE WEDDING IN YE DAYS LANG SYNE.

By Rev. Anson Titus.

The story of courtship and marriage is ever fascinating. It is new and fresh to the hearts of the youthful and aged. A few words upon the marriage day in the early New England will not be without interest. September 9, 1639, the General Court of Massachusetts Bay Colony passed a law ordering intentions of marriage to be published fourteen days at the public lecture, or in towns where there was no lecture the "intention" was to be posted "vpon some poast standinge in publique viewe." On this same day it was ordered that the clerks of the several towns record all marriages, births and deaths. This was a wise provision. It at once taught the people of the beginning and of the designed stability of the new-founded government.

The course of true love did not run smooth in these early days any more than to-day. Parents were desirous of having sons and daughters intermarry with families of like social standing and respectability. But the youth and maid often desired to exercise their own freedom and choice. On May 7, 1651, the General Court ordered a fine and punishment against those who "seeke to draw away y'e affections of yong maydens." In the time of Louis XV, of France, the following decree was made: "Whoever by means of red or white paint, perfumes, essences, artificial teeth, false hair, cotton, wool, iron corsets, hoops, shoes, with high heels, or false tips, shall seek to entice into the bonds of marriage any male subject of his majesty, shall be prosecuted for witchcraft, and declared incapable of matrimony." The fathers of New England may have made foolish laws, but this one in France at a later time goes beyond them. The seductive charms of the sexes they deemed could not be trusted. Wonderment often comes to us of the thoughts and manners of the sage law-makers when their youthful hearts were reaching out after another's love.

The marriage day was celebrated with decorum. The entire community were conversant of the proposed marriage, for the same had been read in meeting and posted in "publique viewe." The earliest lawmakers of the Colony were pillars in the church, and though they did not regard marriage an ordinance over which the church had chief to say, yet they desired an attending solemnity. In 1651 it was ordered that "there shall be no dancinge vpon such occasions," meaning the festivities, which usually followed the marriage, at the "ordinary" or village inn.

The marriage of widows made special laws needful. Property was held in the name of the husband. The wife owned nothing, though it came from the meagre dowry of her own father. When the husband died the widow had certain rights as long as she "remained his widow." These rights were small at best, though the estate may have been accumulated through years of their mutual toil and hardships. We have notes of a number of cases, but give only a few. We omit the names of the contracting parties. "T—— C—— of A—— and H—— B—— of S——, widow were married together, September y'e 28th, 1748, before O—— B—— J.P. And at ye same time y'e s'd H—— solemnly declared as in y'e presence of Almighty God & before many witnesses, that she was in no way in possession of her former husband's estate of whatever kind soever neither possession or reversion." An excellent Deacon married an elderly matron, Dorothea ——, and before the Justice of Peace "Y'e s'd Dorothea declared she was free from using any of her former husband's estate, and so y'e s'd Nathaniel [the Deacon] received her." The following declarations are not without interest. "Y'e s'd John B—— declared before marriage that he took y'e s'd Hannah naked and had clothed her & that he took her then in his own clothes separate from any interest of her former husbands." Again a groom declares: "And he takes her as naked and destitute, not having nor in no ways holding any part of her former husband's estate whatever." We have also the declaration of a widower on marrying a widow in 1702, who had property in her own name, probably gained by will, "that he did renounce meddling with her estate." These declarations evidence that the widow relinquished, and that the groom received her without the least design upon the estate. It has been intimated that in a few instances these declarations became a "sign," but we can hardly credit it. The "rich" widow was taken out of the matrimonial problem.

The following affidavit is spread on the town records of Amesbury:

"Whereas Thomas Challis of Amesbury in y'e County of Essex in y'e Province of y'e Massachsetts Bay in New England, and Sarah Weed, daughter of George Weed in y'e same Town, County and Province, have declared their intention of taking each other in marriage before several public meetings of y'e people called Quakers in Hampton and Amesbury, and according to y't good order used amongst them whose proceeding therein after a deliberate consideration thereof with regard to y'e righteous law of God and example of his people recorded in y'e holy Scriptures of truth in that case, and by enquiry they appeared clear of all others relating to marriage and having consent of parties and relations concerned were approved by said meeting.

Now these certify whom it may concern y't for y'e full accomplishment of their intention, this twenty-second day of September being y'e year according to our account 1727, then they the s'd Thom's Challis and Sarah Weed appeared in a public assembly of y'e afores'd people and others met together for that purpose at their public meeting-house in Amesbury afores'd and then and there he y'e s'd Thom's Challis standing up in y'e s'd assembly taking y'e s'd Sarah Weed by y'e hand did solemnly declare as followeth:

Friends in y'e fear of God and in y'e presence of this assembly whom I declare to bear witness, that I take this my Friend Sarah Weed to be my wife promising by y'e Lord's assistance to be unto her a kind and loving husband till death, or to this effect; and then and there in y'e s'd assembly she y'e said Sarah Weed did in like manner declare as follweth: Friends in y'e fear of God and presence of this assembly whom I declare to bear witness that I take this my Friend Thom's Challis to be my husband promising to be unto him a faithful and loving wife till death separate us, or words of y'e same effect. And y'e s'd Thom's Challis and Sarah Weed, as a further confirmation thereof did then and there to these presents set their hands, she assuming y'e name of her husband. And we whose names are hereto subscribed being present amongst others at their solemnizing Subscription in manner afores'd have hereto set our names as witness."

Then follow the names of groom and bride, relatives on either side, and then the names of members in the assembly, first the "menfolks," then the "womenfolks." The names all told are forty-one. Among them is that of Joseph Whittier, which name with those of Challis and Weed have long been honored names in Amesbury.

The marriage gift to the husband on the part of his parents was usually a farm, a part of the homestead; the dowry to the young bride from her parents was a cow, a year's supply of wool, or something needful in setting up house-keeping. If the homestead farm was not large the young couple were brave enough to encounter the labors and toils of frontier life, and begin for themselves on virgin soil and amid new scenes. It required bravery on the part of the young bride. But there were noble maidens in those days. The cares and duties of motherhood soon followed, but the house-cares and the maternal obligations were performed to the admiration of later generations. The fathers and mothers of New England were strong and hardy. Their praises come down to us. Witnesses new and ancient testify of their worth and royalty of character.

* * * * *



A REMINISCENCE OF COL. FLETCHER WEBSTER.

In a private conversation with the writer not long since General Marston, of New Hampshire, related the following story:

"On the morning of the thirtieth of August, 1862, before sunrise, I was lying under a fence rolled up in a blanket on the Bull Run battle-field. It was the second day of the Bull Run battle. My own regiment, the Second New Hampshire Volunteers, had been in the fight the day before and had lost one-third of the entire regiment in killed and wounded.

"While so lying by the fence some one shook me and said, 'Get up here.' In answer I said, without throwing the blanket from over my head, 'Who in thunder are you?' The answer was made, 'Get up here and see the Colonel of the Massachusetts Twelfth.'

"The speaker then partly pulled the blanket off my head and I saw that it was Colonel Fletcher Webster; whereupon I arose, and we sat down together and I sent my orderly for coffee.

"We sat there drinking the coffee and talking about his father, Daniel Webster, and he told me about his father going up to Franklin every year and always using the same expression about going. He would say 'Fletcher, my son, let us go up to Franklin to-morrow; let us have a good time and leave the old lady at home. Let us have a good old New Hampshire dinner—fried apples and onions and pork.' At about that time the Adjutant of Colonel Webster's regiment came along and told him that the General commanding his brigade wanted to see him. Colonel Webster replied that he would be there shortly.

"As he sat there on the blanket with me he took hold of his left leg just below the knee with both hands and said: 'There, I will agree to have my leg taken off right there for my share of the casualties of this day.' I replied: 'I would as soon be killed as lose a leg; and the chances are a hundred to one that you won't be hit at all.' 'Well,' said he as he gave me his hand, 'I hope to see you again; goodbye.' I never saw him again. He was killed that day. His extreme sadness, his depression, was perhaps indicative of a conviction or presentiment of some impending misfortune."

* * * * *



OLD DORCHESTER.

By Charles M. Barrows.

The quaint old Puritan annalist, James Blake, wrote as a preface to his book of records:

"When many most Godly and Religious People that Dissented from y'e way of worship then Established by Law in y'e Realm of England, in y'e Reign of King Charles y'e first, being denied y'e free exercise of Religion after y'e manner they professed according to y'e light of God's Word and their own consciences, did under y'e Incouragment of a Charter Granted by y'e S'd King, Charles, in y'e Fourth Year of his Reign, A.D. 1628, Remoue themselues & their Families into y'e Colony of y'e Massachusetts Bay in New England, that they might Worship God according to y'e light of their own Consciences, without any burthensome Impositions, which was y'e very motive & cause of their coming; Then it was, that the First Inhabitants of Dorchester came ouer, and were y'e first Company or Church Society that arriued here, next y'e Town of Salem who was one year before them."

Nonconformity, then, was the "very motive and cause" which settled Dorchester, the oldest town but one in Puritan New England, and planted there a sturdy yeomanry to whom freedom of conscience was more than home and dearer than life. Nor was this "vast extent of wilderness" to which they succeeded by right of purchase from the heirs of Chickatabat any such narrow area as that of the same name, recently annexed to the city of Boston. It extended from what is now the northern limit of South Boston to within a hundred and sixty rods of the Rhode Island line, thus giving the township a length of about thirty-five miles "as y'e road goethe." The late Ellis Ames, of Canton, a competent authority, says the town "was formerly bounded by Boston, Roxbury, Dedham, Wrentham, Taunton, Bridgewater and Braintree," so that its history is the history of a large part of the towns in Norfolk county and a portion of Bristol. The manner in which the original territory has been gradually reduced is thus told by Mr. Ames: "Milton was set off in 1662; part of Wrentham, in 1724: Stoughton, in 1726; Sharon, in 1765; Foxborough, in 1778; Canton, in 1797; strips were also set off to Dedham, probably, in 1739; and before the whole was annexed, portions of the northern part of the town were set off to Boston, at two several times: in 1804 and in 1855." Since that date another portion has been severed to make the northern quarter of Hyde Park. Honorable John Daggett, the historian of Attleborough, which was then a part of the Rehoboth North Purchase, says there was a dispute concerning the boundary between Dorchester and that town, which was finally settled by a conference of delegates, held at the house of one of his ancestors.

Why those "most Godly and Religious People" chose to settle where they did rather than on the Charles river, as at first intended, Mr. Blake proceeds to tell us in his annals. He says they made the voyage from England to New England in a vessel of four hundred tons, commanded by Captain Squeb, and that they had "preaching or expounding of the Scriptures every day of their passage, performed by Ministers." Contrary to their desires, the ship discharged them and their goods at Nantasket, but they procured a boat in which part of the company rowed into Boston harbor and up the Charles river, "until it became narrow and shallow," when they went ashore at a point in the present village of Watertown. But after exploring the open lands about Boston, they finally made choice of a neck of land "joyning to a place called by y'e Indians Mattapan," because it formed a natural inclosure for the cattle they had brought with them, and which, if turned into the open land, would be liable to stray and be lost. This little circumstance fixed the original settlement on the marsh now known as Dorchester Neck.

The honor of the name Dorchester appears to belong to Rev. John White, minister of a town of the same name in the mother country, who planned and encouraged the exodus to America. But the hardy little band of exiles who received the title from old Cutshumaquin, the successor of Chickatabat, little knew what their wild territory was destined to become in the course of a hundred years. They were loyal subjects of the English throne, building their log cabins and rude meeting-house on Allen's Plain under protection of a charter from King Charles; there they hoped to found a permanent town, where the worship of God should be maintained in accordance with the dictates of the Puritan conscience, without interference of churchman, Roman Catholic, Baptist, or Quaker. There was room in the unexplored forests to the south for pasturage and for the overflow, whenever, as Cotton Mather said when the whole state contained less than six thousand white inhabitants, "Massachusetts should be like a hive overstocked with bees."

The first meeting-house in Dorchester, a very unpretentious structure of logs and thatch, was completed in 1631, and no free-holder was allowed to plant his domicile farther than the distance of half a mile from it, without special permission of the fathers of the town. It stood near the intersection of the present Pleasant and Cottage streets, and that portion of the former highway between Cottage and Stoughton streets is supposed to have been the first road laid out in the early settlement. Shortly after, this road was extended to Five Corners in one direction, and to the marsh, then called the Calf Pasture, in the other. The present names of these extensions are Pond street and Crescent avenue. From Five Corners a road was subsequently laid out running, north-east to a point a little below the Captain William Clapp place, where there was a gate which closed the entrance to Dorchester Neck, where the cattle were pastured. It was on this street that Rev. Richard Mather, the first minister of the town, Roger Williams, of Rhode Island fame, and other distinguished citizens resided. The next undertaking in the way of public improvements was the building of two important roads, one leading to Penny Ferry, thus opening a highway of communication with the sister Colony at Plymouth; the other leading to Roxbury, Brookline and Cambridge.

In Josselyn's description of the town soon after its settlement may be read:

"Six myles from Braintree lyeth Dorchester, a frontire Town, pleasantly situated and of large extent into the maine land, well watered with two small rivers, her body and wings filled somewhat thick with houses, ... accounted the greatest town heretofore in New England, but now giving way to Boston."

Through what hardships and privations this infant freehold was maintained can be understood by those only, who have read the records of the colonial struggle against a sterile soil, a rigorous climate, grim famine, hostile Indians, and a total lack of all the appliances and comforts of civilization. The years 1631 and 1632 were a period of great distress to the Dorchester farmers, on account of the failure of their crops and supplies of provision, and Captain Clapp wrote concerning it: "Oh! y'e Hunger that many suffered and saw no hope in an Eye of Reason to be Supplied, only by Clams & Muscles, and Fish; and Bread was very Scarce, that sometimes y'e very Crusts of my Fathers Table would have been very sweete vnto me; And when I could have Meal & Water & Salt, boyled together, it was so good, who could wish better. And it was not accounted a strange thing in those Days to Drink Water, and to eat Samp or Homine without Butter or Milk. Indeed it would have been a very strange thing to see a piece of Roast Beef, Mutton, or Veal, tho' it was not long before there was Roast Goat."

In 1740, the same year that Whitefield visited New England, on his evangelistic mission, the crops were again cut off by untimely frosts, and Mr. Blake wrote in his annual entry-book: "There was this year an early frost that much Damnified y'e Indian Corn in y'e Field, and after it was Gathered a long Series of wett weather & a very hard frost vpon it, that damnified a great deal more."

It is not unfair to suppose that the habits of rigid economy learned in this school of adversity influenced the passage of the celebrated law against wearing superfluities, quite as much as their austere prejudice against display. Be that as it may, the attention of the court was called to the dangerous increase of lace and other ornaments in female attire, and, after mature deliberation, it seemed wise to them to pass the following wholesome law:

"Whereas there is much complaint of the wearing of lace and other superflueties tending to little use, or benefit, but to the nourishing of pride, and exhausting men's estates, and also of evil example to others; it is therefore ordered that henceforth no person whatsoever shall prsume to buy or sell within this jurisdiction any manner of lace to bee worne ore used within o'r limits.

"And no taylor or any other person, whatsoever shall hereafter set any lace or points vpon any garments, either linnen, woolen, or any other wearing cloathes whatsoever, and that no p'son hereafter shall be imployed in making any manner of lace, but such as they shall sell to such persons but such as shall and will transport the same out of this jurisdiction, who in such a case shall have liberty to buy and sell; and that hereafter no garment shall be made w'th short sleeves, whereby the nakedness of the arm may be discovered in the bareing thereof, and such as have garments already made w'th short sleeves shall not hereafter wear the same, unless they cover their armes with linnen or otherwise; and that hereafter no person whatsoever shall make any garment for women, or any of their sex, w'th sleeves more than halfe an elle wide in y'e widest place thereof, and so proportionable for bigger or smaller persons; and for the p'r sent alleviation of immoderate great sleeves and some other superfluities, w'ch may easily bee redressed w'th out much pr udice, or y'e spoile of garments, as immoderate great briches, knots of ribban, broad shoulder bands and rayles, silk lases, double ruffes and caffes, &c."

But the court did not confine itself to prescribing the size of a lady's sleeves, or the trimming she might wear on her dress: it passed other timely laws to restrain the idle and vicious and preserve good order throughout the community. It was ordered in 1632 "that y'e remainder of Mr. (John) Allen's strong water, being estimated about two gallandes, shall be deliuered into y'e hands of y'e Deacons of Dorchester for the benefit of y'e poore there, for his selling of it dyvers tymes to such as were drunke by it, knowing thereof."

In 1638 the court passed a curious law regulating the use of tobacco, which runs as follows:

"The Court finding since y'e repealing of y'e former laws against tobacco y'e law is more abused than before, it hath therefore ordered that no man shall take any tobacco in y'e field except in his iourney, or meale times, vpon pain of 12'd for every offence, nor shall take any tobacco in (or near) any dwelling house, barne, Corn or Haye, as may be likely to endanger y'e fireing thereof, vpon paine of 2's for every offence, nor shall take any tobacco in any Inne or common victualling house; except in a private room there; so as neither the master of the same house nor any other gueste there shall take offence thereat; w'ch if they doo, then such p son is forth w'th to forebeare, vpon paine of 2's 6'd for every offence."

One office created by the court of that early period it might not be a bad idea for the authorities of the present day to revive. Wardens were appointed annually to "take care of and manage y'e affairs of y'e School; they shall see that both y'e Master & Schollar, perform, their duty, and Judge of and End any difference that may arrise between Master & Schollar, or their Parents, according to Sundry Rules & Directions," set down for their guidance.

In all matters coming within the province and jurisdiction of the colonial church the law was even more exacting than in merely civil affairs; and singularly enough, the town authorities took it upon themselves to seat all persons who attended divine service in the meeting-house where it seemed to them most proper. With the full approbation of the selectmen, responsible persons were sometimes allowed to construct pews or seats for themselves and their families in the meeting-house; but it appears on one occasion that three citizens undertook to "make a seat in y'e meeting-house," without first getting the full permission and consent of the town fathers, an act deemed exceedingly sinful, and for which they were arraigned before the town at a special meeting and publicly censured. After duly considering the case it was decided to allow the seat to remain, provided it should not be disposed of to any person but such as the town should approve of, and that the offending parties acknowledge their "too much forwardness," in writing, which they did in the following manner:

"We whose names are underwritten, do acknowledge that it was our weakness that we were so inconsiderate as to make a small seat in the meeting-house without more clear and full approbation of the town and selectmen thereof, though we thought upon the conference we had with some of the selectmen apart, and elders, we had satisfying ground for our proceeding therein; w'ch we now see was not sufficent; therefore we do desire that our failing therein may be passed by; and if the town will grant our seat that we have been at so much cost in setting up, we thankfully acknowledge your love unto us therein, and we do hereupon further engage ourselves that we will not give up nor sell any of our places in that seat to any person or persons but whom the elders shall approve of, or such as shall have power to place men in seats in the assembly.

[Signed]. INCREASE ATHERTON, SAMUEL PROCTOR, THOMAS BIRD.

At another time one Joseph Leeds, a member of the church, was accused of maltreating his wife; the charge was sustained, and after the case had been considered at several special meetings, it was settled by his confessing and promising "to carry it more lovingly to her for time to come." But Jonathan Blackman, another erring brother, was charged with misdemeanors that could not be so easily overlooked; he was accused of lying and also of stealing. He had been whipped for these offences, but refused to come before the church for wholesome discipline, and ran away out of the jurisdiction. Accordingly he was "disowned from his church relation and excommunicated, though not deliuered up to Satan, as those in full communion, but yet to be looked at as a Heathen and a Publican unto his relations natural and civil, that he might be ashamed."

Another class of statutes—laws that have a queer sound in nineteenth-century Massachusetts—were designed for the encouragement of special public service. Here are examples of some of them:

"1638. For the better encouragement of any that shall destroy wolves, it is ordered that for every wolf any man shall take in Dorchester plantation, he shall have 20's by the town, for the first wolf, 15's for the second, and for every wolf afterwards, 10's besides the Country's pay."

"1736. Voted, that whosoever shall kill brown rats, so much grown as to have their hair on them, within y'e town of Dochester, y'e year ensuing, until our meeting in May next, and bring in their scalps with y'e ears on unto y'e town treasurer, shall be paid by y'e town treasurer Fourpence for every rat's scalp."

The same year the town offered a bounty for the destroying of striped squirrels.

Now that the recent death of Wendell Phillips brings freshly to mind the bitter opposition with which the early champions of abolution were treated in Boston and vicinity, it is pleasant to find in the musty records of the Dochester Plantation emphatic evidence that they not only recognized slavery as an evil, and the slave-trade as a heinous crime, but that they set their faces like a flint against it. The traffic in slaves began among the colonists in the winter of 1645-6, and in the following November the court placed on record this outspoken denunciation of the practice:

"The Gen'all Co'te conceiving themselves bound by y'e first opertunity to bear Witness against y'e haynos & crying sin of man stealing, as also to prscribe such timely redresse for what is past, and such a law for y'e future as may sufficiently deter all others belonging to us to have to do in such vile and odious courses, iustly abhored of all good and iust men, do order y't y'e negro interpreter w'th others unlawfully taken, be y'e first opertunity (at y'e charge of y'e country for psent), sent to his native country in Ginny, & a letter w'th him of y'e indignation of y'e Corte thereabout, and iustice hereof, desiring o'r hono'red Gov'rnr would please put this order in execution."

How men so clear in their convictions of the rights of Africans could be guilty of the most heartless injustice to Quakers and their friends, it is not easy to explain; and yet they mercilessly persecuted one of their own fellow-citizens, Nicholas Upsall, and made him an exile from his home, for no greater crime than that of countenancing and befriending members of the Society of Friends. He kept the Dorchester hostelry, and was wont to entertain Quakers as he did any other decent people; but for this he was apprehended and tried by the court, and sentenced to pay a fine of L20 and be thrown into prison. Finally, finding it impossible to entirely prevent his friends from holding intercourse with him, he was banished from the settlement for the remainder of his life. That curious book, "Persecutors Maul'd with their own Weapons," contains the following account of the case:

"Nicholas Upsall, an old man full of years, seeing their (the authorities) cruelty to the harmless Quakers that they had condemned some of them to die, both he and elder Wisewell, or otherwise Deacon Wisewell, members of the church in Boston, bore their testimonies in public against their brethren's horrid cruelty to the said Quakers. And the said Upsall declared that he did look at it as a sad forerunner of some heavy judgment to follow upon the country; which they took so ill at his hands, that they fined him twenty pounds and three pounds more at another meeting of the court, for not coming to their meeting, and would not abate him one grote, but imprisoned him and then banished him on pain of death, which was done in a time of such extreme bitter weather for frost, snow and cold, that had not the heathen Indians in the wilderness woods taken compassion on his misery, for the winter season, he in all likelihood had perished, though he had then a good estate in houses and lands, goods and money, also a wife and children."

One of the officials who for a time had charge of poor Upsall during the period of his imprisonment was John Capen, of whom the old chroniclers have left a pleasanter record, namely, a transcript of several of his youthful love-letters. The following will serve as sample:

"SWEETE-HARTE,

"My kind loue and affection to you remembered; hauinge not a convenient opertunety to see and speake w'th you soe oft as I could desier, I therefore make bold to take opertunety as occassione offers it selfe to vissit you w'th my letter, desiering y't it may find acceptance w'th you, as a token of my loue to you; as I can assuer you y't yours have found from me; for as I came home from you y'e other day, by y'e way I reseaued your letter from your faithfull messenger w'ch was welcom vnto me, and for w'ch I kindly thanke you, and do desier y't as it is y'e first: so y't may not be y'e last, but y't it may be as a seed w'ch will bring forth more frute: and for your good counsell and aduise in your letter specified, I doe accept, and do desier y't we may still command y'e casse to god for direction and cleering vp of your way as I hope wee haue hitherto done; and y't our long considerations may at y'e next time bring forth firme concessions, I meane verbally though not formally. Sweete-harte I have given you a large ensample of patience, I hope you will learn this instruction from y'e same, namely, to show y'e like toward me if euer occassion be offered for futuer time, and for y'e present condesendency vnto my request; thus w'ch my kind loue remembered to yo'r father and mother and Brothers and sisters w'th thanks for all their kindness w'ch haue been vndeseruing in me I rest, leauing both them and vs vnto y'e protection and wise direction of y'e almighty.

"My mother remembers her love vnto y'or father and mother; as also vnto your selfe though as it vnknown.

"Yo'rs to command in anything I pleas.

"JOHN CAPEN."

In this connection may very properly be given another letter written at about the same date. Punkapoag, the summer residence of Thomas Bailey Aldrich, the poet editor of the Atlantic, was a part of colonial Dorchester and one of the points where the famous John Eliot began his missionary labors among the Indians. In the interest of the natives at that station he wrote the following letter to his friend, Major Atherton, in 1657:

"Much Honored and Beloved in the Lord:

"Though our poore Indians are molested in most places in their meetings in way of civilities, yet the Lord hath put it into your hearts to suffer us to meet quietly at Ponkipog, for w'ch I thank God, and am thankful to yourselfe and all the good people of Dorchester. And now that our meetings may be the more comfortable and p varable, my request is, y't you would further these two motions: first, y't you would please to make an order in your towne and record it in your towne record, that you approve and allow y'e Indians of Ponkipog there to sit downe and make a towne, and to inioy such accommodations as may be competent to maintain God's ordinances among them another day. My second request is, y't you would appoint fitting men, who may in a fitt season bound and lay out the same, and record y't alsoe. And thus commending you to the Lord, I rest,

"Yours to serve in the service of Jesus Christ,

"JOHN ELIOT."

Following this missive a letter on quite a different subject, dictated by the redoubtable Indian chief, King Philip, may be interesting. It bears date of 1672, and is addressed to Captain Hopestill Foster of Dorchester:

"S'r you may please to remember that when I last saw You att Walling river You promised me six pounds in goods; now my request is that you would send me by this Indian five yards of White light collered serge to make me a coat and a good Holland shirt redy made; and a p'r of good Indian briches all of which I have present need of, therefoer I pray S'r faile not to send them by my Indian and with them the severall prices of them; and silke & buttens & 7 yards Gallownes for trimming; not else att present to trouble you w'th onley the subscription of

"KING PHILIP,

"his Majesty P.P."

One of the best commentaries on the lives and characters of the chief actors in the history of the Dorchester Plantation may be read on the tombstones that mark the places where their precious dust was deposited. From Rev. Richard Mather, the most noted pastor of the church of that period, to the humblest contemporary of his who enjoyed the rights and priveleges of a free-holder, none was so mean or obscure that a characteristic, if not fitting, epitaph did not mark the place of his sepulture. From the many well worth perusing, the following are singled and transcribed for the readers of this sketch.

Epitaph of James Humfrey, "one of y'e ruling elders of Dorchester," in the form of an acrostic:

"I nclos'd within this shrine is precious dust. A nd only waits ye rising of ye just. M ost usefull while he liu'd, adorn'd his Station, E uen to old age he Seur'd his Generation.

H ow great a Blessing this Ruling Elder be U nto the Church & Town: & Pastors Three. M ather he first did by him help Receiue; F lynt did he next his burden much Relieue; R enouned Danforth he did assist with Skill: E steemed high by all; Bear fruit Untill, Y eilding to Death his Glorious seat did fill."

When Elder Hopestill Clapp died his pastor, Rev. John Danforth, composed the following verses for his grave stone:

"His Dust waits till ye Jubile, Shall then Shine brighter than ye Skie; Shall meet and join to part no more, His soul that Glorify'd before. Pastors and Churches happy be, With Ruling Elders such as he; Present useful, Absent Wanted, Liv'd Desired, Died Lamented."

William Pole, an eccentric citizen of the village, before his demise, composed an epitaph to be chiseled on his monument, "Y't so being dead he might warn posterity; or, a resemblance of a dead man bespeaking y'e reader;" so under a death's head and cross-bones it stands thus:

"Ho passenger 'tis worth your paines to stay & take a dead man's lesson by ye way. I was what now thou art & thou shall be What I am now what odds twixt me and thee Now go thy way but stay take one word more Thy staff for ought thou knowest stands next ye door Death is ye dore yea dore of heaven or hell Be warned, Be armed, Believe, Repent, Fairewell."

The virtues of one who was "downright for business, one of cheerful spirit and entire for the country" are recorded in this fashion:

"Here lyes ovr Captaine, & Major of Suffolk was withall: A Goodley Magistrate was he, and Major Generall, Two Troops of Hors with him here came, svch worth his loue did crave; Ten Companyes of Foot also movrning marcht to his grave. Let all that Read be sure to Keep the Faith as he has don. With Christ his liues now, crowned, his name was Hvmfrey Atherton."

The following was written on the death of John Foster, who is mentioned in the old annals as a "mathematician and printer":

"Thy body which no activeness did lack, Now's laid aside like an old Almanack; But for the present only's out of date, 'Twill have at length a far more active state. Yes, tho' with dust thy body soiled be. Yet at the resurrection we shall see A fair EDITION, and of matchless worth. Free from ERRATAS, new in Heaven set forth. 'Tis but a word from God the great Creator, It shall be done when he saith Imprimator."

The clerk of the old Dorchester Church seems also to have been a maker of elegiac verse; for after the decease of Rev. Richard Mather, the pastor, and one of the ablest divines of colonial New England, the church records contain the two complimentary stanzas quoted below, the first being an evident attempt at anagram:

"Third in New England's Dorchester, Was this ordained minister. Second to none for faithfulness, Abilities and usefulness. Divine his charms, years seven times seven, Wise to win souls from earth to heaven. Prophet's reward his gains above, But great's our loss by his remove."

Sacred to God his servant Richard Mather, Sons like him, good and great, did call him father. Hard to discern a difference in degree, 'Twixt his bright learning and his piety. Short time his sleeping dust lies covered down, So can't his soul or his deserved renown. From 's birth six lustres and a jubilee To his repose: but labored hard in thee, O, Dorchester! four more than thirty years His sacred dust with thee thine honour rears."

This couplet to three brothers named Clarke must suffice for epitaphs:

"Here lie three Clarkes, their accounts are even, Entered on earth, carried up to Heaven."

Before taking leave of these fascinating old records, so rich in facts and the stuff that fiction is made of, it will be interesting to have an estimate of the growth of the Dorchester Plantation; for this purpose the valuation of the town is given, a century from the date of its settlement:

Houses, 117 Mills, 6 Acres of orchard, 250 1-2 Acres of mowing, 1834 1-4 Acres of pasture, 2873 1-2 Acres of tillage, 518 1-2 Male slaves, 10 Female slaves, 1 Oxen, 157 Cows, 661 Horses, 207 Sheep and goats, 661 Swine, 251

Value of feeding stock, etc., L431

Decked vessels, tons, 64 Open vessels, tons 68 ==== 132

Ratable polls, 252 Not ratable, 24 ==== 276

The tax for that year, assessed on real estate, was L72 16s 6d; on personal estate, L9 14s 11d.

When all who took up the original claims on Allen's Plain had passed through the vicissitudes of their troubled lives and been numbered with the silent majority in the field of epitaphs, already alluded to, and their descendents were on the eve of the great struggle which was destined to sever them from the mother country, and the hearts of patriotic men began to feel the premonitory throbs of that spirit of independence soon to fire the first shot at Lexington, the Union and Association of Sons of Liberty in the province held a grand celebration in Boston, on the fourteenth of August, 1769. From John Adams's famous diary we learn that this jovial company, including the leading spirits of the time, first assembled at Liberty Tree, in Boston, where they drank fourteen toasts, and then adjourned to Liberty Tree Tavern, which was none other than Robinson's Tavern in Dorchester. There under a mammoth tent in an adjacent field long tables were spread, and over three hundred persons sat down to a sumptuous dinner. "Three large pigs were barbecued," and "forty-five toasts were given on the occasion," the last of which was, "Strong halters, firm blocks and sharp axes to all such as deserve them." The toasts were varied with songs of liberty and patriotism by a noted colonial mimic named Balch, and another song composed and sung by Dr. Church. "At five o'clock," says Mr. Adams, "the Boston people started home, led by Mr. Hancock in his chariot, and to the honour of the Sons, I did not see one person intoxicated."

* * * * *



HOLLIS STREET CHURCH.

The demolition of Hollis Street Church in this city destroys another old historic land-mark, which, like King's Chapel, the old State House, and other venerable structures, have a record that endears them to the popular heart. A brief sketch of the three buildings which have successively occupied the site, which is so soon to be left vacant, is worthy of preservation.

The name of the church and the street on which it stood was bestowed in honor of Thomas Hollis, of London, noted for his liberal benefactions; and his nephew of the same name devoted a bell for the edifice, in 1734.

The land on which the original structure was erected, was presented for that purpose by Governor Belcher, in 1731; and in April of the same year, by permission of the selectmen of Tri-Mountain, or Boston, a wooden building, sixty feet long and forty feet wide, was began, which was finished and dedicated in midsummer of the following year.

In the great South End fire, on the twentieth of April, 1787, and in response to an imperative demand, a second, and larger wooden house, was erected on the site of the first, and made ready for occupancy in the course of the following year. This building was planned by Charles Bulfinch, and in its architecture resembled St. Paul's Church, now standing on Tremont street.

Within a year the Hollis Street Society has removed to an elegant new edifice on the Back Bay, and the brick building they left behind must now disappear in the march of improvement. It was erected in 1811, in order to accommodate the prosperous and rapidly-growing society for whom it stood as a place of worship. To make room for it, the wooden meeting-house already referred to was taken down in sections and removed to the town of Braintree.

The several clergymen who have been the honored pastors of Hollis Street Church are worthy of mention in this connection. The first was Rev. Mather Byles, a lineal descendant of John Cotton and Richard Mather, who was ordained pastor, December 20, 1732. He was dismissed August 14, 1776, on account of his strong Tory proclivities. His immediate successor was Rev. Ebenezer Wright, a young divine from Dedham and a graduate of Harvard, who remained the pastor until the new meeting-house was finished, in 1788, when he was dismissed at his own request, on account of ill-health.

The next pastor was a man in middle life, who made himself an acknowledged power among the Boston clergy, Rev. Samuel West, of Needham. He died in 1808, and was succeeded by Rev. Horace Holley, from Connecticut, who was installed in March, 1809, and remained till 1818. Rev. John Pierpont, who resigned in 1845, made way for Rev. David Fosdick, who preached there two years, when Rev. Starr King was settled in 1845, and remained till 1861, Rev. George L. Chaney then took the place till 1877, and was succeeded by Rev. H. Bernard Carpenter, the present pastor.

* * * * *



ELIZABETH.[13]

A ROMANCE OF COLONIAL DAYS.

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

CHAPTER XIII.—Continued.

Half an hour later Edmonson marched into his friend's room. His face was flushed, and his eyes had a triumphant glitter. It was an expression that heightened most the kind of beauty he had.

"You are booked for a visit, Bulchester," he began, seating himself in the chair opposite the other. "I have accepted for you; knew you would be glad to go with me."

"That is cool!" And Bulchester's light blue eyes glowed with anger for a moment. His moods of resentment against his companion's domination, though few and far between, were very real.

"Not at all. In fact it is a delightful place, and I don't know to what good fortune we are indebted for an invitation. Neither of us has much acquaintance with Archdale."

"Archdale? Stephen Archdale?"

"Yes. You look amazed, man. We are asked to meet Sir Temple and Lady Dacre. I don't exactly see how it came about, but I do see that it is the very thing I want in order to go on with the search. Another city, other families."

"But—." Bulchester stopped.

"But what?"

"Why, the possible Mistress Archdale,—Elizabeth. Of course I am happy to go, if you enjoy the situation."

A dangerous look rayed out from Edmonson's eyes.

"I can stand it, if Archdale can," he answered. "How fate works to bring us together," he mused.

"I don't understand," cried the other. "What has fate to do with this invitation?" Edmonson, who had spoken, forgetting that he was not alone, looked at his companion with sudden suspicion. But Bulchester went on in the same tone. "If it is to carry out your purpose though, little you will care for having been a suitor of Mistress Archdale."

"On the contrary, it will add piquancy to the visit." Then he added, "Don't you see, Bulchester, that I dare not throw away an opportunity? Ship 'Number One' has foundered. 'Number Two' must come to land. That is the amount of it."

"Yes," returned Bulchester with so much assurance that the other's scrutiny relaxed.

"I suppose it is settled," said his lordship after a pause.

"Certainly," answered Edmonson; and he smiled.

Lady Dacre and train, having fairly started on their two day's journey, she settled herself luxuriously and again began her observations. But as they were not especially striking, no chronicle of them can be found, except that she called Brattle Street an alley, begged pardon for it with a mixture of contrition and amusement, and generally patronized the country a little. Sir Temple enjoyed it greatly, and Archdale was glad of any diversion. When they had stopped for the night, as they sat by the open windows of the inn and looked out into the garden which was too much a tangle for anything but moonlight and June to give it beauty, Lady Dacre sprang up, interrupting her husband in one of his remarks, and declaring it a shame to stay indoors such a night.

"Give me your arm," she said to Archdale, "and let us take a turn out here. We don't want you, Temple; we want to talk."

Sir Temple, serenely sure of hearing, before he slept, the purport of any conversation that his wife might have had, took up a book which he had brought with him. He was an excellent traveler in regard to one kind of luggage; the same book lasted him a good while.

Lady Dacre moved off with Stephen. They went out of the house and down the walk. She commented on the neglected appearance of things until Stephen asked her if weeds were peculiar to the American soil. In answer she struck him lightly with her fan and walked on laughing. But when they reached the end of the garden, she turned upon him suddenly.

"Now tell me," she said.

"Tell you what?"

"Tell me what, indeed! What a speech for a lover, a young husband. Has the light of your honeymoon faded so quickly? Mine has not yet. Tell me about her, of course, your charming bride."

Stephen came to a dead halt, and stood looking into the smiling eyes gazing up into his.

"Lady Dacre," he said, "the Mistress Archdale you will find at Seascape is my mother." Then he gave the history of his intended marriage, and of that other marriage which might prove real. His listener was more moved than she liked to show.

"It will all be right," she said tearfully. "But it is dreadful for you, and for the young ladies, both of them."

"Yes," he answered, "for both of them."

"You know," she began eagerly, "that I am the——?" then she stopped.

Stephen waited courteously for the end of the sentence that was never to be finished. He felt no curiosity at her sudden breaking off; it seemed to him that curiosity and interest, except on one subject, were over for him forever.

When Lady Dacre repeated this story to her husband she finished by saying: "Why do you suppose it is, Temple, that my heart goes out to the married one?"

"Natural perversity, my dear."

"Then you think she is married?"

"Don't know; it is very probable."

"Poor Archdale!"

Sir Temple burst into a laugh. "Is he poor, Archdale, because you think he has made the best bargain?"

"No, you heartless man, but because he does not see it. Besides, I cannot even tell if it is so. I believe I pity everybody."

"That's a good way," responded her husband. "Then you will be sure to hit right somewhere."

"I will remember that," returned Lady Dacre between vexation and laughing, "and lay it up against you, too. But, poor fellow, he is so in love with his pretty cousin, and she with him."

"Poor cousin! Is she like a certain lady I know who chose to be married in a dowdy dress and a poke bonnet for fear of losing her husband altogether?"

But Lady Dacre did not hear a word. She was listening to a mouse behind the wainscotting, and spying out a nail-hole which she was sure was big enough for it to come out of, and she insisted that her husband should ring and have the place stopped up.

When the party reached Seascape the summer clouds that floated over the ocean were beginning to glow with the warmth of coming sunset. The sea lay so tranquil that the flash of the waves on the pebbly shore sounded like the rythmic accompaniment to the beautiful vision of earth and sky, and the boom of the water against the cliffs beyond came now and then, accentuating this like the beat of a heavy drum muffled or distant. The mansion at Seascape with its forty rooms, although new, was so substantial and stately that as they drove up the avenue Lady Dacre, accustomed to grandeur, ran her quick eye over its ample dimensions, its gambrel roof, its immense chimneys, its generous hall door, and turning to Archdale, without her condescension, she asked him how he had contrived to combine newness and dignity.

"One sees it in nature sometimes," he answered. "Dignity and youth are a fascinating combination."

In the hall stood a lady whom Archdale looked at with pride. He was fond of his mother without recognizing a certain likeness between them. She was dressed elegantly, although without ostentation, and she came towards her guests with an ease as delightful as their own. Stephen going to meet her, led her forward and introduced her. Lady Dacre looked at her scrutinizingly, and gave a little nod of satisfaction.

"I am pleased to come to see you Madam Archdale," she said in answer to the other's greeting. There was a touch of sadness in her face and the clasp of her hand had a silent sympathy in it. It was as if the two women already made moan over the desolation of the man in whom they both were interested, though in so different degrees. But the tact of both saved awkwardness in their meeting.

Archdale stood a little apart, silent for a moment, struggling against the overwhelming suggestions of the situation. Even his mother did not belong here; she had her own home. Perhaps it would be found that no woman for whom he cared could ever have a right in this lovely house. When these guests had gone he would shut up the place forever, unless——. But possibilities of delight seemed very vague to Stephen as he stood there in his home unlighted by Katie's presence. All at once he felt a long keen ray from Sir Temple's eyes upon his face. That gentleman had a fondness for making out his own narratives of people and things; he preferred Mss. to print, that is, the Mss. of the histories he found written on the faces of those about him, which, although sometimes difficult to decipher, had the charm of novelty, and often that of not being decipherable by the multitude. Stephen immediately turned his glance upon Sir Temple.

"You are tired," he said with decision, "and Lady Dacre must be quite exhausted, animated as she looks. But I see that my mother is already leading her away. Let me show you your rooms."

Sir Temple's eyes had fallen, and with a bow and a half smile upon his lips, he walked beside his host in silence.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE HOSTESS.

The second morning of the visit was delightful. Madam Archdale had taken Lady Dacre to the cupola, and the view that met their eyes would have more admiration from people more travelled than these. On the east was the sea, looking in the early sunshine like a great flashing crescent of silver laid with both its arcs upon the earth. Down to it wandered the creek winding by the grounds beneath the watchers, turned out of its straight course, now to lave the foot of some large tree that in return spread a circle of shade to cool its waters before they passed out under the hot sun again; now to creep through some field, perhaps of daises, to send its freshness through all their roots and renew their courage in the contest with the farmers, so that the more they were cut down, the more they flourished, for the sun, and the stream, the summer air, and the soil, all were upon their side. Shadows fell upon the water from the bridge across the road over which the lumbering carts went sometimes, and the heavy carriages still more seldom. On the other hand, looking up the stream, were the hills from among which this little river slipped out rippling along with its musical undertone, as if they had sent it as a messenger to express their delight in summer. In the distance the Piscataqua broadened out to the sea, and beyond the river the city was outlined against the sky. To the left of this, and in great sweeps along the horizon stretched the forests. As one looked at these forests, the fields of com, the scattered houses, the pastures dotted with cattle, the city, all signs of civilization, seemed like a forlorn hope sent against these dense barriers of nature; yet it was that forlorn hope that is destined always to win.

"Do you know, I like it?" said Lady Dacre turning to her hostess. "I think it all very nice. So does Sir Temple. Yet I don't see how you can get along without a bit of London, sometimes. London is the spice, you know, the flavor of the cake, the bouquet of the wine."

"Only, it differs from these, since one cannot get too much of it," answered Madam Archdale smiling, thinking as her eyes swept over the landscape that there were charms in her own land which it would be hard to lose.

Lady Dacre settled herself comfortably in one of the chairs of the cupola, and turning to her companion, said abruptly:

"Dear Madam Archdale, what is going to be done about that poor son of yours; he is in a terrible situation?"

"Indeed, he is."

"When is he going to get out? Have you done anything about it?"

"Done anything? Everything, rather. To say nothing of Stephen and my poor little niece. Elizabeth Royal is not a woman to sit down calmly under the imputation of having married a man against his will. And, besides, I have heard that she would like to marry one of her suitors."

"Do you know him?"

"Not even who it is. I imagine that Stephen does, but he does not tell all he knows."

"I have found that out," laughed Lady Dacre. "Indeed, I don't feel like laughing," she added quickly, "but it seems to me only an awkward predicament, you see, and I am thinking of the time when the young people will be free to tie themselves according to their fancies.

"I don't take it so lightly," answered the lady, "and my husband, when Stephen is out of the way, shakes his head dolefully over it. He believes Harwin's story, and in that case he argues badly. My husband has a conscience, and he does not intend that his son shall commit bigamy. Neither does Stephen, of course, intend to; but then, Stephen is in love with Katie, and he and Elizabeth Royal are disposed to carry matters with a high hand. But Katie has scruples, too, and she must, of course, be satisfied."

"Of course. What kind of person is this Elizabeth Royal?" asked Lady Dacre after a pause. "Is she pretty, or plain?"

"Not plain, certainly. She has a kind of beauty at times, a beauty of expression quite remarkable, Katie tells me. But I have not seen anything especial about her."

"You don't like her?" questioned Lady Dacre.

"Oh, yes, only that I think her rather cool in her manners. She is the soul of honor. She comes of good stock, some of the best in the country. Her mother was a connection of Madam Pepperell. I believe she is about to visit there with her father. We shall meet them both." And the speaker explained that the Colonel knew Mr. Royal well, and would be anxious to pay them some attention. "I suppose I am no judge of the young lady," she added. "I have not seen her since the wedding, and only a few times before that when she was visiting Katie. She is an heiress; I understand that she is very wealthy, much richer than my little niece will ever be."

"Ah!" said Lady Dacre. It seemed to her that she understood how troublesome Colonel Archdale's conscience must be to him in this matter. But the Colonel was a stranger to her, and at times Lady Dacre was severe in her judgments. Sir Temple declared that she never had any scruples over that second line of the famous poem of aversion,

"I do not like you. Dr. Fell."

"There is something I want to tell you," she said after a pause, "something about Sir Temple and myself." And her listener received the confidence that had been withheld from Stephen a few evenings before in the garden.

Lady Dacre had scarcely finished when there came the sound of feet on the stairs, a blonde head appeared in the narrow opening, another head of dull brown hair came close behind, and Gerald Edmonson, followed by Lord Bulchester, stepped into the cupola. Lady Dacre remembered at the moment what Archdale had said on the journey, that most peoples' shadows changed about,—now before, now on one side or the other, but Edmonson's always went straight behind him.

"May we come?" asked the foremost young man, bowing to each of the ladies.

"It is rather late to ask that," returned Madam Archdale, "but as you are here, we will try to make you welcome."

And they sat there talking until the sun grew too hot for them.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth Royal, the subject of Lady Dacre's curiosity, was thinking of the visit she was on her way to make which would bring her within a few miles of Seascape. She dreaded it, yet she knew that her father was right when he told her that the more she could appear to treat the question of this marriage as a jest,—a thing which meant nothing to her,—the wiser she would be. This was the course that by her father's advice she had marked out for herself. Elizabeth Royal had her faults; she sometimes tried her friends a good deal by them; but if she had been Lot's wife, and had gone out of Sodom with him, she would never have been left on the plain as a bitter warning against vacillation. Only, it seemed to her a very long time since her restful days had gone by, and she realized that the one course she hated was to do things because it was good policy to do them. Before Archdale she was brave; not only from pride, but out of pity to him; before others, all but her father, pride restrained her from complaint, even from admission of the possibility of the disaster she feared. But alone her courage often ebbed.

CHAPTER XV.

THE GUESTS.

The fourth morning from this as Madam Archdale and her guest were on their way to the garden they met Archdale in the hall.

"Come with us," cried Lady Dacre to him, pointing through the open door. But Archdale had letters to write and the ladies went on without him. A few rods away they saw Edmonson seated under an elm near the door. "He has lost his shadow," whispered Lady Dacre to her companion as they drew near, and she repeated Stephen's speech. Her listener smiled. Edmonson rose as he saw them and sauntered beside them through the shaded walks. But for all his brilliant conversation he did not keep Lady Dacre from remembering the gloomy look she had surprised upon his face. As they were walking Bulchester joined them. He explained that he had been paying a visit to Madam Pepperell, whom he had met in Boston during the spring. Lady Dacre noticed that he and his friend exchanged significant glances, but neither spoke to the other. Edmonson devoted himself to her, while Bulchester walked on with his hostess.

At last they all sat down to rest where the sea-breeze beginning to blow brought a refreshing coolness. Sir Temple Dacre came out looking for them, and on being questioned by his wife as to where Archdale was, professed his ignorance. "He must have a larger correspondence than you," she returned, "if he is still at work; he told me that he had letters to write."

"I think he has gone to ask a friend of his to dine with us," said his mother. "I saw him gallop off half an hour ago. We are going to be very quiet to-day that you may have a chance to rest; tomorrow guests have been invited to meet you. Stephen thought that this evening you might like a sail,—unless you have had too much of the water?" And she turned inquiringly to Lady Dacre.

"Oh, no," cried her ladyship. "I should be delighted. The moon fulls to-night Am I right, Temple?"

A few minutes later Edmonson and Bulchester having strolled down to the beach confronted one another there in silence, until the sound of a wave breaking seemed to rouse their surprise into speech.

"Edmonson," exclaimed the smaller man, "for once you are at fault. You did not describe her at all."

"The—!" cried Edmonson with a black look. "I was never so amazed in my life. What has got into the girl? She is a different creature. That present air of hers would take in London; better even than in this out-of-the-world hole, it would be more appreciated. And what thousands she has to carry it off well, or I ought to say, to carry it on well. That good-for-nothing," he added, "does not even understand his luck." There was an undertone in his voice which gave the bitter laugh with which he tried to hide it an intensity that made Bulchester look at him anxiously.

"You don't mean that you admire her so much as that?" he asked. Edmonson laughed again.

"My admiration of any woman will not injure my digestion. I believe you know my ideas on that subject. But such a figure for the head of one's table, and such golden accompaniments to her presentablity—all mine, you know, or to be mine, and here this young lordship steps in between. Lordship; indeed! he thinks himself no less than a duke by his airs. But I—." He stopped, and ground his teeth to swallow his rage, and his face was so lowering that the other cried in trepidation:

"What are you going to do, Edmonson? Nothing,—nothing—uncomfortable, you know, I hope?"

Edmonson turned slowly upon him with the blackness of his look lightening into a smile as different from mirth as the brassy gleam behind a thundercloud is from sunshine. "What concerns your lordship?" he asked contemptuously. "Do you imagine that I shall forget my station?"

"Or your position as guest?"

"Or my 'position as guest?' No, indeed," sneered his listener. "What has come over you, Bulchester?" he added. "For how long are you engaged for this role of dictator? I shall leave until it is over, you do it so badly." And he turned on his heel, grinding the pebbles under it hard as he did so.

"Nonsense, stay where you are, I beg," cried Bulchester with an assumption of indifference in his manner, and a tone of humility so incongruous that Edmonson glancing over his shoulder smiled in scorn, and having remained in that position a moment, came back to his little squire, and said impressively:

"Bulchester, we are beginning to burn; something will turn up here. I can't tell you why, but I feel it."

"You mean that you have a clue? That the name amounts to anything?" cried the other excitedly. "That you have found—?"

"Hush!" interrupted Edmonson. "Lady Dacre! Yes, I have found the air here delightful. My tedious headache is wearing away already. And here comes her ladyship to make us appreciate our blessings still more. Say, Bul," he added in a quick undertone as he was about moving forward to meet the new-comer, "how good does one have to be among this set? Have you any idea?"