Chapter 2

DUTY.

"How strange it seems here," said Nancy Foster leaning forward toward Elizabeth, as they sat in the sunshine on the deck of the schooner; and as she spoke she glanced along the horizon.

Elizabeth before answering turned her head in the direction in which the land, had it been in sight, would have appeared; but no vision of shore broke the wide circuit of ocean and sky. Then her eyes came back to the little vessel as if to assure herself that she was not alone in this waste of water. Her father sat on the opposite side reading. With a word of reply to Nancy, she fell into silence again. Only, instead of the vague wonder how she should meet the future, her thoughts now turned to the past. It was nine mornings since that consultation with her father in the library, and they had been only one night at sea. It had taken a week to get off. From the first she had counted upon Mrs. Eveleigh's remonstrances and vehement reproaches of Mr. Royal's wrong-doing in taking his daughter into such danger. They were only a little more vehement than she had expected. But Mrs. Eveleigh did not know the errand; if she had, that would have made a difference, or, as Elizabeth reflected, she thought that this would have been treated as the strangest part of the affair. But she had kept her own counsel, saying only that her father and she thought it right. Mrs. Eveleigh had been so exasperated by being kept in the dark that she had retained her anger to the very last day. Then she had drowned her resentment in a flood of tears, and declared between her sobs that, frightful as it all was, for she dreaded the very sight of a gun, she would rather go with Elizabeth than have the dear girl set off without any companion. Elizabeth's reminder that her father and Nancy were to accompany her only called forth the assertion that a maid was no companion, and a man was nothing at such a time. Elizabeth thought that at the time of sieges and battles a man might be considered of some little consequence. But she never argued with Mrs. Eveleigh, and she had quitted her thankful for the good lady's affection, and glad that Mrs. Eveleigh was to be left behind on such an expedition.

"You'll never come back," Mrs. Eveleigh sobbed. "The French ships of war will be sure to gobble up you and your father, too. I know just how it will be. You are a crazy girl, and I don't know what is the matter with you," she had added irrelevantly; "and as to your father, you must have bewitched him; he used to have plenty of common sense."

The matter with Mr. Royal was, that he knew his daughter well enough to be sure that if Archdale was killed during the siege she would feel always that her silence might have given the opportunity for his death. And he knew that to bring upon Elizabeth the miseries of an uneasy conscience would be to kill her by slow torture. Besides, he himself believed in the danger, his own conscience was aroused, and that was not easily put to sleep. But if he had heard the verdict of Mrs. Eveleigh, who knew nothing of the matter, he would not have blamed her so much.

He had hired this little schooner in which they now were at a ruinous rate, and had not been able to do even that until he had pledged himself to pay all damages in case of loss. Governor Shirley had seized the opportunity to send dispatches several days earlier than he had intended. Mr. Royal went with a picked crew, men both honest and skilful. He knew the dangers of French vessels as well as Mrs. Eveleigh did, but his daughter's persistent assertion: "We shall be murderers," had overborne every objection.

Elizabeth sitting on deck that morning, was thinking of these things, and tracing in this danger which she was trying to avert, one of the consequences of her frolic on the river that summer evening. Then she remembered that but for that she would perhaps have been Edmonson's wife, and she said to herself that the Lord had been very merciful to her, and that she would try not to shrink from her duty.

"How fast we are going," said Nancy again. It was true that the little vessel before a fair wind was flying over the water at a rate that, if kept up, and in the same direction, would soon bring its passengers to their destination. Elizabeth was glad of speed, already it might be too late. And besides, the sooner her errand was done, the sooner she should return with a mind at rest. She began to reckon how long before she should be at home again. In a week, in less time if they were fortunate, they should reach Louisburg. She should not want more than five minutes' talk with Mr. Archdale. Then it would be home again immediately. Her father had hired the schooner for the very reason that it should not be detailed for any other service, but should bring them back at once. How strange it was, she thought, to spend fourteen days for only five minutes' conversation, and that, too, with one who was no especial friend except through his engagement to Katie. But for all the weariness she was thankful to do it, and grateful to her father. She hoped that she should not catch even a glimpse of Edmonson, and it seemed improbable that she would. After the siege was over he would probably go to England again. How she wished he were there now, and she quietly at home, where in that case she might have been now.

The next day there was a head wind, and the day following no wind at all. As time went on, it grew evident that it would be more than a week from their starting before they could drop anchor in Cabanus Bay. Dread lest they should be too late began to harass Elizabeth. But she showed no impatience. Her silence was what Nancy noticed most. But, then, Nancy liked talking, and did not enjoy the books which her Mistress had brought with her and read most persistently, or sometimes tried to read, unsuccessfully. Even then they served as a protection against the maid's talk when she was in too anxious a mood to endure it.

On the morning of the seventeenth they caught sight of the "Little Gibraltar," but the wind was against them, and it was the afternoon of the next day before the Captain of the schooner could run into the Bay, and go ashore with his dispatches and Mistress Royal's message to the General.

Elizabeth looked about her with breathless interest, realizing that here she was to find war. It happened that on her arrival there was a lull in the cannonading. Both sides had paused to draw breath, but the lull was far from perfect silence, and to her inexperience this occasional thunder of bursting shells seemed sharp conflict. She said so to the Captain as they drew toward shore.

"Bless yer!" he answered with a laugh. "This ain' t no thin' at all, this is nothin' but child's play. Wait till yer see it hot and heavy. I s'pose we shall go back to-morrow, though. I'd like to have yer see some good stout work first."

"Ain't we in danger here?" inquired Nancy.

The skipper rolled his quid of tobacco in his cheek reflectively a moment. "Well, no," he said, "I guess nothin' to speak of. They're too busy answering the batteries; it's only the stray shot that comes our way. There's a thousand chances to one agin' its hitting us, and I guess we can stand the one." He looked at Nancy closely to guage the amount of her courage.

"I guess we can," she answered coolly. This reply seemed to please him. He had before considered Nancy "a nice lookin' girl;" and now, as he put down "grit" in his mental catalogue of her fascinations, he smiled to himself, and thought of a neat little home on the Salem shore where his mother now presided, and where it was not impossible that some day Nancy might be persuaded to reign. But the demands of the hour recalled him from this dream to his usual brisk attention to realities, and as soon as he had cast anchor, he left the ship in charge of the mate, and went in search of the General.

General Pepperell was in his tent, resting after a hard day's work. Not only had he been through the camp cheering the soldiers, by imparting to them something of his own indomitable resolution and by seeing personally that everything possible was done for the sufferers in the hospital, but he had also been for hours superintending the arrangements on the new battery that was to do such execution upon the granite walls of Louisburg. Now everything was in readiness and he had ordered two hours of rest before the firing from it should begin. Nearly an hour of that had gone by before he entered his tent for the rest he needed, when almost immediately the messenger reached him.

"Mr. Royal and his daughter here!" he cried. "And Mr. Royal requests to see Captain Archdale? I don't understand. But I shall hear why from them." He dispatched an orderly for Stephen who was still at the battery, and then went with the skipper to the little vessel that had brought the unexpected guests. Elizabeth never forgot the kindness of his greeting. In the midst of the strange scene and of preparations for work in which women had no part, the friendliness of his face and tones, and his cordial grasp of her hand made her feel almost at home. She had been sure of courtesy, but she had not dared to look for this, and her eyes grew dim for an instant.

"I suppose that we shall return this evening," she said after the greetings and inquiries were over and Mr. Royal had explained that in a few minutes all that he had come for could be said to Mr. Archdale. Although after thinking the matter over carefully he had decided that it was Elizabeth, filled with the spirit of her warning, who should herself give her message to Archdale yet he spoke to Pepperell as if she had accompanied him. And when the General said that he had already sent for the young man, Mr. Royal told him that his daughter had that in her pocket for him which, if he knew, it would lend wings to his feet.

"A letter from our charming Mistress Katie," pronounced Pepperell, smiling at Elizabeth.

"Yes," she said, and after a little repeated her question of their returning that evening.

"Yes, I know," said the General. He waited a moment, and then added. "But if you come among soldiers, you will feel the exactions of war. There are those dispatches, you remember, not even read yet" and he touched the breast of his coat, "because I was in such haste to pay my respects to you. Now, I should like to send an answer to these, and I am afraid I shall not have it ready before to-morrow morning; the Commodore will probably write me to-night and I want to include whatever news he may have. Will to-morrow do?"

"Oh, yes, I shall be glad to help the cause, even so little as that," she answered. Pepperell thanked her for her words, and ignored the look of disappointment that he had seen flit across her face before she spoke.

"We have been putting up a fascine battery within two hundred and fifteen yards of the west gate," he said, "It will open fire in an hour, and then you will see a cannonade! We have two forty-two pounders there, it will be no child's play." Nothing had then hinted at the Titanic scale of modern war engines. Elizabeth's eyes dilated, but she said nothing. The General sat beside her, and asked how things were going on in Boston, asked about his friends, and many trifling details that neither dispatches nor letters would give him, and that she wondered that he had heart for in the scenes going on about him. Then he told them many particulars of the siege and especially of the terrible labor of dragging the heavy guns from the shore into position, interspersing all this narrative of the life-and-death struggles with amusing anecdotes and bright comments, until she was amazed, and in listening found that she had gained a better knowledge of him than in years of ordinary acquaintance. For she could not have realized by that how many-sided the man was, how full of resources, and how indomitable. She noticed how sympathetically he spoke of the brave fellows he was leading. When he said that the hardships of the campaign and the cold of a severer climate than they had been accustomed to had prostrated numbers of them. Elizabeth saw that it was not only soldiers that he felt he was losing when they died, but men from his own home and neighborhood and in whom he had a personal interest. Then as he sat there, she begged him not to think of her if others needed him but to go.

"This time is at my own disposal," he answered, adding with a smile. "If the struggle had come, Mistress Royal, I should think of you, no doubt, but I should not give you a moment's attention. The pointing of the smallest cannon would at the moment be of more importance than all your affairs. A besieging army can have no cry of '_Place aux dames_;' therefore I shall not invite you to stay after to-morrow. I shall even send you home. Or, lest I should hurt your feelings too much, I will put it this way; I shall send your father home, and he will take you with him."

Elizabeth laughed; and the conversation went on with its interest increasing, when all at once Pepperell rose, and held out his hand to her in farewell. "I may not see you again until we meet in Boston." he said, "but if I can, I will come for a moment in the morning."

She was surprised at his going away so soon after his assurance of being at leisure but as after speaking to her father he stepped over the side of the vessel, she perceived the reason for his sudden departure. His trained eye had caught what the distance had hidden from her, the figure of a man coming rapidly toward the shore.

When the General landed, the keel of the little boat he was in grated on the beach at Stephen Archdale's feet. With a salute to his commander, the latter sprang into it, and before Elizabeth had recovered her breath, was coming over the ship's side.

The General walked on without turning his head toward the schooner. Nevertheless, it is true that once he said to himself distinctly. "The Yankee in me does clamor to know what they want of that fellow."

[Footnote 1: Copyright, 1884, by Frances C. Sparhawk.]

* * * * *

ROOM AT THE TOP.

Never you mind the crowd, lad, Or fancy your life won't tell; The work is the work for a' that To him that doeth it well. Fancy the world a hill, lad; Look where the millions stop; You'll find the crowd at the base, lad; There's always room at the top.

Courage and faith and patience, There's space in the old world, yet; The better the chance you stand, lad, The further along you get. Keep your eye on the goal, lad, Never despair or drop; Be sure that your path leads upward; There's always room at the top.

* * * * *

TWO DAYS WITH THE A.M.C.

By Helen M. Winslow.

It is a divine up-reaching instinct in man that forces him to climb the hills of science, unlock the mysteries of ages, and wrest from the natural forces of earth and air, their well-guarded secrets. Is it the subtle workings of this desire for the mastery over mechanical agencies, this prying into Nature's secrets, that leads us out into the forest primeval and gives zest to mountain climbing?

Fortune is said to favor the brave. It certainly favored the writer of this article when an opportunity was offered for a two days' trip with the Appalachian Mountain Club up Mounts Kearsarge South and Cardigan in New Hampshire. A few words in regard to this club. Well known as it has come to be, the objects of its existence are scarcely understood by the majority, even, of Bostonians.

"Oh," said one, referring to this very trip. "They go off somewhere, climb a mountain, have a jolly time and then come home. It's about the same thing over and over."

Very true. But they do more. According to the by-laws, "the objects of the club are to explore the mountains of New England and adjacent regions, both for scientific and artistic purposes, and in general to cultivate an interest in geographical studies."

In addition they do much to open up new mountain resorts to the public and render the old ones more attractive. They construct new and accurate maps. They not only collect scattered scientific information of all kinds but study to make it available. All this they do by combining effort, comparing notes and interchanging ideas. They hold monthly meetings in Boston, publish a magazine, own quite a library, and have established a reputation second to no similar organization in the country. The club was established in 1876, and the membership to-day of over six hundred is ample proof of its popularity. That their researches are really valuable is demonstrated by the fact that Professor Hitchcock in his geological works quotes them frequently in support of his own theories.

On the seventeenth of June some twenty members of the Appalachian Mountain Club gathered at an early hour in the Lowell station at Boston. The party was unusually small for one of their popular excursions. The majority were young and strong and looked amply fitted for mountain climbing. Yet grave men were there whose silver hair told that they had already climbed life's rounded hill and saw its westering sun; but elderly people are never old, so long as they remain young in heart and spirits, and pleasant anticipation beamed from the faces of all as the train steamed away toward the north, and the two days' outing was fairly begun.

The morning was cloudy and a possible rain storm threatened the plans of the Appalachians. But the clerk of the weather-bureau evidently understood the necessity for favorable conditions and issued them accordingly. Before we had reached Canaan, N.H., the clouds had broken away and the afternoon promised to be perfect. We had with us a Harvard professor, a topographical surveyor, an amateur photographer, a Concord philosopher and the champion walker of the club. Apropos of some of the feats of the latter a story was told of the man who walked forty miles in two hours. This was putting the Appalachians entirely in the shade, and the story called forth incredulous remarks. Investigation proved, however, that the Appalachian was not outdone, for the hero of the canard accomplished his feat only by taking a Champlain steamer at Burlington, Vt., and walking deck the entire distance to Rouse's Point!

After passing Concord we advanced through wilder regions where the swiftly changing views of clustering villages and quiet farm-houses alternated with wooded slopes and glimpses of pond or river forming a series of charming pictures. Nature was at her best and the picturesque hills of New Hampshire were beautiful in all their June finery.

At Penacook the granite monument on Dustin Island was pointed out. In 1697 Hannah Dustin, with her six weeks' old babe and its nurse, were captured by Indians at Haverhill and brought to the wigwam camp on this island. The babe was killed before her eyes but the mother planned an escape. Awaking the nurse and a white lad who had been taken prisoner also, she took the Indians' own tomahawks and dispatched the men and one woman. The brave white women then spiked all the cannon save one and taking the scalps of their victims with them, they embarked on the Merrimack, then high with the spring floods, and soon reached Haverhill. Afterwards she was called to Boston, publicly thanked by the General Court and received a grant of fifty pounds. Fifty years later the Indians attacked and massacred the settlers in this valley. Today their descendants, the "Kanucks," cross the country daily in the modern express trains and find employment in our manufacturing cities.

As we go northward Kearsarge may be seen from the back of the train, now sinking behind the green hills, now rising abruptly from the horizon and looming grandly above the surrounding country. Cardigan does not come into view until we have nearly reached Canaan, whose fair and happy land was our destination. On alighting from the train, amid the crowd of assembled villagers, a three seated carriage and two immense Shaker wagons awaited us. The ride of six miles was a welcome change from the preceding railway travel. Coming from a city where the mercury had reached 96 deg. in the shade but the day before, the fresh invigorating mountain air was like a breath from the open doors of Paradise. The stout horses scrambled up the steep hills altogether unmindful of the wagon-loads of people behind. Perhaps the light hearts and buoyant spirits of the party lessened their avoirdupois and the tonnage was actually less than it seemed!

Billowy mountains, charming valleys, winding streams and picturesque bypaths varied our course over the rural highways. The blackberry bushes were white with bloom and the gardens of the farm-houses gay with peonies and flower-de-luce. After passing a small mica quarry, we came suddenly upon a bend of the road where was revealed a grand sweep of the hazy Green Mountains, and a bewildering view of the New Hampshire hill-country. Shortly afterward we passed the little box-like white building, which serves as both church and town house, where the sixty votes of Dorchester are counted. This building constitutes the entire town of Dorchester. Surely, in view of the stony soil, the inhabitants of the place may be said to show great wisdom by not living there!

By three o'clock we found ourselves at the Mountain House, twelve hundred feet below the summit of Mount Cardigan. This house is nothing more or less than a barn, in one end of which an attempt has been made to make a comfortable shelter for the human family. Here the real work of the day began, although we had already come one hundred and four miles by train and six by teams. No enterprising railroad man has set his seal upon this region and we were forced to pursue the journey by means of the conveyances which nature long ago--(how long, thank fortune, we are not obliged to tell)--at our disposal. But faint heart ne'er climbed a high mountain and with the aid of stout walking-sticks we easily climbed the path which led up under sighing spruces and stunted birch, filled with a fine exhilaration.

On each side and under foot was a profusion of wild flowers. Not June flowers, but those found with us in May, so backward was the season at that altitude. The red and white trillium, the sarsaparilla, Solomon's seal, "moose-missy" and black-berry bushes, and, farther up, the blue-berry bushes, all hung full of blossoms, a small Alpine flower of seven white petals excited much curious comment, for in spite of its resemblance to the wind-flower, no one seemed able to classify it.

Suddenly some six hundred feet below the summit of Cardigan we came out from the stunted under-growth and found ourselves traversing the smooth granite mass which constitutes the entire mountain top. The rock is full of minute particles of mica, which glitter and flash in the sun like "gems of purest ray serene." A brisk wind was blowing and the rarefied air infused us with new strength to make the remaining ascent.

Some distance from each other, half way up the rounded cone, lie several huge boulders poised in the bed of what was once a glacial drift. They are of entirely different character from the rock on Cardigan and without doubt came from much farther north. Whence, and when? The course of the drift is also very plainly marked from northeast to southwest. From the character of the rock there is reason to believe that when God said, "Let the dry land appear," Mount Cardigan was the first to show his head and came from the very bowels of the earth. Hitchcock's "Geology of New Hampshire" states that these White Mountains appeared above the face of the waters as islands at a very early period of the world's history. "It would not be surprising," he says, "if this archipelago covered as much area as New Hampshire and Vermont combined." If these hoary old mountains could tell us their history since creation, how short-lived and insignificant our own little lives would appear!

Professor Hitchcock has also traced the course of glacial drift among the mountains in a most interesting manner. Glacial action, and marks of scarification are numerous on the north and west sides of them while they are entirely wanting on the southeastern slopes. In some instances the general course of the drift from the northwest was changed by the position of the mountains. For instance, Ragged Mountain and Kearsarge, South, rise abruptly from comparatively level regions and from their proximity to each other gave rise to a different motion of the ice, the marks of which still show its course.

The view from this, the oldest of the mountains is scarcely surpassed by any in the state. To the north, Moosilauke, Chocorua, Lafayette, Mount Washington and the main peaks of the principal White Mountain group lie sharply outlined. The Ossipee Mountain toward the east, the Uncanoonacs in the distance, Ragged and Sunapee and Kearsarge, near neighbors, claimed attention. In the far western horizon Ascutney, Camel's Hump, Mount Mansfield, and Jay Peak showed hazy and indistinct. Below us the broken ranges of green hills surged like immense billows of some Titanic sea. The fresh verdure of every field and tree made up a landscape seldom equalled in tone of color, and one which amply repaid the climber. But while some were content with looking, other true Appalachians remembered the objects of the club. While one took photographs of the surrounding scenery, far and near, another made profile sketches of the distant peaks; while one attempted a bit of topographical work, another took measurements by means of a powerful telescope; and the results of all were put on record for future reference.

A member of the A.M.C. just returned from Florida had been carrying about some strange looking fruit all day, resembling partly an orange but more nearly a small yellow winter squash. Now, he made himself popular by dispensing great pieces of grape-fruit among the thirsty crowd. It is a necessity of perverse humanity to be thirsty wherever there is no water; and but for the Florida fruit and the canteens which had been filled at the spring on the mountain side, we should have suffered.

Mount Cardigan is but 3,156 feet above the sea-level; but as it stands alone the view on all sides is unobstructed and clear. It did not take us an hour to decide that three thousand feet above the sea, under favorable conditions is quite a sightly place. And we took the homeward path, feeling that the view was worth a dozen times its cost. Forty minutes afterward we arrived at the bottom in the condition of the weak-kneed and trembling saints whom the hymn-book denounces.

An hour of rattling down the hills brought us to Canaan depot again where our special train awaited us. After a refreshing draught of milk at the Cardigan House, from the piazzas of which a fine view of the mountain may be had, we were rapidly whirled away toward Patler Place in Andover.

This village was named for the once famous sleight of hand performer Patler. His house is a cozy, pretty affair, freshly painted and nestled under great embowering trees. Close by is his grave.

Here, too, barges were in waiting to take us to the Winslow House, four miles distant on Mount Kearsarge. Before we had left the train the soft rays of the setting sun had changed the hill-sides to amethyst and deepened the purple gloom of the valleys. Now, as we rode in merry groups of six or eight, over the country by-ways, the new moon slowly touched every tree and shrub with her magical wand until the land with its long, weird shadows and silver radiance seemed to belong to another world than that of day-light.

It was nine o'clock when the Winslow House suddenly revealed itself. An open wood fire burned brightly in the brick fireplace, and in that altitude was a comfort indeed. The ample walls seemed to fairly glow with welcome as we entered. Some of us acknowledged that we were tired; others confessed to sleepiness; but one and all openly declared their hunger. We had only to look at each other to madly accept the theory that mankind was created of dust; but we were not long in disposing of a large amount of surplus material. And then the supper bell,--welcome sound! In view of a cherished reputation for veracity, it would not be wise to state the exact amount of sirloin steak and broiled salmon that disappeared from mortal vision that night at ten o'clock, or to tell how the strawberries and boiled lobster were stored safely away by the A.M.C. We are sworn to secrecy, and although the supper hour was not passed over in silence then--far from it! it must be now.

No one need suppose that after the experiences of the day the representative A.M.C's. were fatigued sufficiently to make them willing to retire at half-past ten. Besides, nightmare has its horrors, and there was that supper!

It is popularly supposed throughout the country, that Bostonians make an annual pilgrimage on the seventeenth of June to Bunker Hill, and devoutly ascend the monument on their hands and knees. Although circumstances had prevented the A.M.C. party from discharging their debt of gratitude to their ancestors in the prescribed method, they could not forget that it was Bunker Hill Day. One of our gallant and patriotic brethren had been carrying a mysterious bundle about and guarding it with jealous care all day. Now, he produced and displayed--sky-rockets! They went off, soon after, with great success, surprising alike the stately mountain behind us and the little country girl who had come up from the valley below, to see the "Boston folks."

The powerful telescopes were also set up and observations of the heavens occupied the astronomically inclined for an hour or two. Thus the moons of Jupiter were made to contribute to the evening's entertainment. The piano, too, was not the instrument of torture usually found masquerading in hotel-parlors, and we finally gravitated towards it and made night hideous with our music and college songs until, to pharaphrase the poet, in to-day already walked to-morrow and it was twelve o'clock,

"My friends," spoke up one of the gentlemen, "I am very sorry to say that we shall not be able to ascend Mount Kearsarge to-morrow."

"Why?" exclaimed a dozen anxious voices.

"Because," was the impressive answer, "it is to-day!"

In the laugh which followed the party said good night and retired.

The Winslow House was named for Admiral Winslow, of the war-ship Keasarge, who was present at the opening of the hotel, and gave the owner a stand of colors. On the parlor table lay a Bible presented by him, as stated by a gilt inscription on the cover. When the gallant commander died, a boulder was taken from the side of Mount Kearsarge for his monument, but the controversy in regard to which of the two Kearsarges the ship had been named for arose about that time and the family of the officer finally decided not to use the boulder. It has been pretty well settled, at last, that the mountain in Merrimack County, designated by Superintendent Patterson as Kearsarge South, is the one which gave the famous ship its name. Under the shadow of it, too, was laid the body of the soldier of the Sixth Massachusetts Regiment who fell at Baltimore, exclaiming with his dying breath: "All hail to the Stars and Stripes;" although afterward he was removed to lie near the soldiers' monument at Lowell. The ancient spelling of this monument was Carasage, and later, Kyar Sarga; but as early as 1804 the laws of New Hampshire give it as Kearsage. The local spelling of Kearsarge North, until a comparatively recent period, was Kiarsarge. It is still called Pequaket.

Early the next morning, two bold Appalachians rose early and took a run up the mountain, getting back to breakfast and making the descent of nearly 1,200 feet in eighteen minutes! The climb was represented as more difficult than that of the day before. We did not find it so, however, as we proceeded with the reinforcements furnished by a hearty breakfast; the clear bracing air of the morning was delightful. The song-sparrows, perched at a safe distance, poured forth floods of melody, the Peabody bird added his high weird note, while other wild birds occasionally chimed in. The path led up through forests of black spruce whose sighing branches whispered softly over our heads. Every one was in excellent humor and had a capital story or a bit of geological scientific or botanical wisdom. The wild-flowers were scarcer than on Cardigan but there was greater variety of ferns. Half way up, a tiny spring welled up in the pathway. Our grave philosopher, as well-versed in mystical wood-craft as metaphysics, cut a strip of birch-bark from one of the over-hanging trees and deftly fashioned an Indian drinking-cup. Working from the idea of a birch-bark canoe somebody offered the cup-full, as a "schooner of water." On being asked to explain her nautical terms, the joker protested ignorance and entirely disowned her far-fetched joke.

**

As we advanced, here and there, under the white birches or between the dense growth of spruce, broad glimpses were visible of the townships below. Suddenly, vegetation ceased and we were again on the bare rock with several hundred feet between us and the rude structure called, by courtesy, the Summit House. Beside the latter, we already descried our companions, not lost but gone before; and we find ourselves in the awkward predicament of the man with three hands--a right, a left and a little behind-hand.

The top of Kearsarge is composed of andalusite schist. The marks of glacial action are even more distinct than on Cardigan, while the stratification is very curious. When we reached the top, the first-comers were already busy with surveys, profile sketches and photographs. As we looked at Cardigan looming up grandly in the northwest, we were proud of our work of the day before. The view from the two mountains, only twenty miles apart, is of course much the same. Kearsarge is in exact line with Wauchusct, the Pack Monadnocks and Moosilauke. These, except the first, could be plainly seen. Mount Washington, seventy miles distant, Lafayette, Chocorua, Tridyranid, the Twin Mountains, and Franconia Notch formed a sharp, clear picture against the northern sky, and were flanked by scores of smaller mountains. The green rolling country, flecked by numerous ponds and rivers, stretched away for miles at our feet, to a line of blue, hazy mountains. The Black-water hills, Sunapee and dozens of other well-known mountains seemed from our standpoint hardly more than good-sized haystacks. So, perhaps, will our greatest earthly achievements look, when viewed from the heights of eternity.

By noon a blue haze had crept over the horizon and was spreading over the whole landscape. But we had scored a victory over it by coming early.

"To have the great poetic heart, Is more than all the climber's art."

In some sense, we each felt the meaning of the lines, as we turned from Kearsarge top and made the gradual descent. There is a precipitous bridle-path which shortens the distance in proportion as it increases fatigue. The majority of us were unwilling to tempt fate by adopting it, and took the easier way. As we stopped occasionally in a shady nook to rest, we severally confessed that scraps of Lowell's matchless poem had been floating nebulously in the brain ever since the clouds had disappeared the day before. Two such days as we had been blessed with are rare, even in June. Up there in the forest primeval, in the happy shining weather, we were constantly proving that there was

"Not a leaf or a blade too mean To be some happy creature's palace."

If we waxed sentimental, something must be forgiven the lavish summer.

At the hotel, the bountiful dinner was garnished with the best of all sauces. Then, reluctantly indeed after our two days' tramping, we started for Boston, arriving there a little past seven the same evening. We had had unprecedented weather, and a well-planned and perfectly executed trip. Never was there a pleasanter excursion or a more successful outing. If the path up the hill of life were no more difficult than that up Cardigan! If all earthly troubles could be as easily surmounted as Kearsarge! Possibly they might be if we went forth to meet them with the same stout heart and determined spirit.

"Daily with souls that cringe and plot, We Sinais climb and know it not"

* * * * *

THE MARCH OF THE SIXTH REGIMENT.

By Rev. Charles Babbidge, Chaplain.

Should a motto ever be needed for some prospective medal commemorative of the "Old Sixth Reg." none would seem to be more appropriate than a quotation from Virgil,--"Primus tentare viam." Though but little honor attaches to being first, where all were equally ready to be foremost, still, the "chances of war" gave some little advantage to this fortunate military body. Its ready re-response to the call "To Arms," served to awaken a similar enthusiasm in all the other military organizations of the Commonwealth. The admirable state of discipline to which the regiment had been brought by its accomplished and efficient commander, Col. Edward F. Jones, and his subordinate officers, was fully competent to secure the respect and confidence of the multitudes of patriotic citizens with whom it came in contact after leaving Massachusetts; and it is only doing justice to the soldiers of this regiment to say, that amid all the excitement of the commencement of a campaign, and all the flattering attentions and entertainments which they received from every quarter, and on all occasions, they maintained the solid, steady deportment of soldiers well trained, of citizens accustomed to good society, and of patriots ready and willing to do whatever these qualities imply and require.

It can hardly be said that "the order to march" came unlooked for, though it most certainly was sudden. The tender of the services of the regiment had long since been in the hands of Gov. Andrew; meetings of the field and staff officers had been held; there was a free and thorough interchange of opinions and sentiments among the line officers; and not a single soldier could be found who had not fully digested all the particulars of a possible future.

The ready response of our citizen-soldiers to the call of the governor furnishes an apt illustration of the peculiar character of our people. Under a government that requires the constant maintenance of a strong military force, "General Orders" would have been issued to the various camps and garrisons scattered throughout the country. When danger threatened us it became manifest at once, that every peaceful village was a garrison, and every city a fortified camp. It was often a subject of merriment while we, like Christopher North were "under canvas," to relate the particular circumstances of time, place, and occupation at the moment when each of us found himself suddenly transformed into a soldier. Each had his story to tell of his numerous "hair's breadth escapes," as through mud, snow and darkness he made his way to the appointed rendezvous, on the morning of April 16th.

In Lowell the regiment paraded in Huntington Hall, and there received a cordial welcome from the people of that city. Taking the cars we arrived in Boston about noon, and were assigned quarters in one of the armories in Faneuil Hall. With a view to better accomodations, the regiment in the afternoon marched to Boylston Hall, and there prepared for as comfortable a bivouac as circumstances permitted.

Up to this time the weather had been as gloomy as war and dripping clouds could make it. Having (figuratively) pitched our tents in Boylston Hall, the discipline of camp-life was at once established, and communication with the world outside, was largely cut off. This however did not interfere with the free admission of many tokens of regard from friends outside, in the form of refreshments of various kinds.

Two memorable incidents of the evening will long be remembered. The pretty and graceful daughter of Col. Jones was adopted, with all the honors, as "Daughter of the Regiment"; and secondly the comfortable and becoming overcoats prepared with wise forethought for the regiment were issued. The motley outer-garments, in which, up to this moment, we had found shelter from the storm, were at once discarded. In our new garments we not only found great comfort;--we also felt that the inner as well as the outer man could boast a resemblance to "regular" troops.

On the morning of the 17th we were marched to the State House, then and there to receive the salutations of the Governor, and also to receive, what at the moment struck some of us as a pretty forcible reminder that we were now occupying positions that were entirely new to us.

Drawn up in military array in Doric Hall we were each of us "donated" two blue flannel shirts and some corresponding under garments. This gratuitous equipment implied _service_. To those of us who within a twelvemonth had figured in the hall over our heads, as representatives of the sovereign people, it indicated a very marked change of circumstances.

Among other tokens of the confidence reposed in our patriotism and prowess, a heavy cavalry revolver was bestowed upon each of the field and staff officers. As these could not be conveniently carried, on the return march, by those who had been made the happy recipients of these bulky favors, they were bundled together and consigned for safe-keeping to the Chaplain, to be borne on the line of march back to Boylston Hall. Why that functionary should have been chosen to carry a whole armory of weapons, in the sight of the admiring crowds that lined the streets of Boston remains a question. Opinions are equally divided as to whether, _as chaplain_ he would be most likely to prevent a hasty and rash use of fire-arms; or whether, he was _de facto_ a "common carrier," on the ground that ministers were made and designed for "bearing burdens."

Early in the afternoon, the regiments entered the cars of the Worcester Railroad, and the march to Washington was fairly begun. So long as daylight permitted, tokens of the uprising of the people of the commonwealth were everywhere visible; and when darkness had settled down around us, we caught glimpses of excited multitudes as the cars dashed on without stopping, by the brilliantly illuminated depots and settlements along the route. Our reception at Springfield was of a truly jubilant character. Refreshments in great profusion, and of the most appetizing kind were furnished and received a most cordial welcome within our hungry ranks. The streets were illuminated, and cannon thundered in every direction. Our stay was a short one; and we rattled on and on until the morning revealed the fact that we were in Connecticut and not far from New York.

It will require a more gifted pen than the one that traces these lines to picture the march of the "Old Sixth" through the city of New York. Never before had so _deep_ because so _peculiar_ an enthusiasm pervaded the people of that vast metropolis. Patriotism, under its normal and customary forms, had, on many previous occasions, been wrought up to an intense height; but now it was not to celebrate their national independence, but to secure their national existence, or rather, to settle the question whether the American people were, or were not a Nation.

At the St. Nicholas and other places, the wants of the regiment were sumptuously provided for. At the Astor House, the field and staff officers were entertained in a manner that left nothing to be desired.

Once more on the march, the regiment passed through the crowded streets, everywhere receiving welcome plaudits until they reached the ferry that conducted them to Hoboken, and the places en route to Baltimore and Washington. As we passed into the ferry boats to cross the river, a voice was heard above the tumult of the place and hour, "Good luck to you, boys, but some of you will never return by this route;" a prediction speedily fulfilled. Within about twenty-four hours, three of our number had been transferred to a higher department.

The passage through Delaware to Philadelphia was not marked by any incidents worthy of notice. Their long and weary pilgrimage had begun to change a brisk, wide-awake regiment into a common-place body of weary pilgrims, glad to find a shelter, without much questioning as to what it might be. Quarters were assigned us in the Gerard House which happened at that time to be unoccupied. For a brief period quiet ruled the hour, and the weary soldier had begun his dreams of home and happiness long before he was ready to stretch his limbs upon the mattresses that covered the floors of the spacious hotel.

Suddenly the "Long-roll" was heard echoing along the streets and through the halls of the Gerard House. The accoutrements and garments that had been doffed in readiness for sleep were hastely resumed; and at the word "Fall in," every man was in his place.

The "weight of affliction" in this crisis fell upon the field and staff officers. They had but just assembled in the drawing-room of the Continental Hotel, and gone through with those preliminary forms that are quite as indicative of a good appetite as of good manners, and were quiet taking their places at the table, amid the sumptuous surroundings of a dining hall at that time scarcely equalled on the continent, when Col. Jones entered the apartment, with the abrupt salutation, "Gentlemen, to your posts; we start for Baltimore immediately, the regiment awaits the order to march." "_Væ mihi_!" the writer of this paper felt that _he_ might, under the circumstances of the moment, appropriate a few minutes of time's rapid flight to contemplate in sorrow and silence the scene of disappointment and woe. The little he still retained of classic lore brought back images of the Harpies, as he had read of them in Virgil. And even Sancho Panza thrust in his bullet head, with an asinine smile, as the writer recalled poor Sancho's distress at not sharing the feast so tantalizingly spread before him.

But, "hurry up" became the word when the drums and fifes gave notice that the regiment was on the move, and that somebody would "get left" if they did not practise the "_Pas redouble_."

* * * * *

BY THE SEA.

By Teresa Herrick.

I watch the mighty breakers rear, and dash Against the shore, I hear the sad complaining of the sea; Forevermore There rises in my soul a ceaseless song, A lonely wail; A yearning for the golden days to come, A craving to be deluged in that Sea Whose waves are loves Unutterable.

And now I see the gray mist creeping down Upon the sea. The bright blue waves are hidden from my sight; Ah me, ah me, Thou too, O Sea of God's Immensity From me art screened; But till the mists be lifted up I wait, Wait patiently and long, then will I plunge Beneath Thy waves O wondrous Sea!

* * * * *

THE RESPONSE OF MARBLEHEAD IN 1861.

By Samuel Roads, Jr.

AUTHOR OF "HISTORY AND TRADITIONS OF MARBLEHEAD."

The news of the fall of Fort Sumter aroused the entire North to action. The great civil war which had so long been threatened could no longer be averted, and in every town and hamlet, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, the people rose as one man to defend the integrity of the Union.

On the 15th of April, President Lincoln issued his first proclamation calling for seventy-five thousand militia for a three months' service. The news was received in Marblehead, Mass., late in the afternoon of that day, and the three militia companies were at once notified by their respective commanders to be in readiness to take the early morning train for Boston. These companies were: The Marblehead Sutton Light Infantry, Company C, Eighth Regiment, commanded by Capt. Knott V. Martin; The Lafayette Guards, Company B, Eighth Regiment, commanded by Capt. Richard Phillips; and the Glover Light Guards, Company H, Eighth Regiment, commanded by Capt. Francis Boardman.

The morning of Tuesday, the 16th of April, broke cold and stormy. Notwithstanding the rain and sleet which rendered the cold weather uncomfortable in the extreme, the streets of Marblehead were filled with an excited throng of people. Wives and mothers and fathers and children were represented there in the dense crowd, all anxious to speak a farewell word to the soldiers on their departure. The first companies to leave town were those commanded by Captains Martin and Boardman, which marched to the depot and took the half-past seven o'clock train for Boston. Captain Phillips' company took the train which left Marblehead about an hour and a half later.

As the trains slowly left the depot, the cheers of the assembled multitude were re-echoed by the soldiers in the cars. "God bless you!" "Good-by!" resounded on all sides; and it was not until the last car had disappeared in the distance, that the great crowd began to disperse.

Of the arrival of the Marblehead companies in Boston there is little need for me to write. The testimony of such eminent witnesses as Adjutant-general Schouler and General E.W. Hinks cannot be disputed, and we quote it _verbatim_.

"There has been some controversy in military circles," wrote General Schouler, "as to which company can claim the honor of first reaching Boston. I can answer, that the first were the three companies of the Eighth Regiment belonging to Marblehead, commanded by Captains Martin, Phillips and Boardman. I had been at the State House all night; and early in the morning, rode to the arsenal at Cambridge, to ascertain whether the orders from headquarters to send in arms, ammunition, overcoats and equipments had been properly attended to. Messengers had also been stationed at the different depots, with orders for the companies, on their arrival, to proceed at once to Faneuil Hall, as a northeasterly storm of sleet and rain had set in during the night, and had not abated in the morning. On my return from Cambridge, I stopped at the Eastern Railroad depot. A large crowd of men and women, notwithstanding the storm, had gathered there, expecting the arrival of troops. Shortly after eight o'clock, the train arrived with the Marblehead companies. They were received with deafening shouts from the excited throng. The companies immediately formed in line, and marched by the flank directly to Faneuil Hall, the fifes and drums playing "Yankee Doodle," the people following and shouting like madmen, and the rain and sleet falling piteously, as if to abate the ardor of the popular welcome. And thus it was that the Marblehead men entered Faneuil Hall on the morning of the 16th of April."

The testimony of General Hinks, who at the breaking out of the war was Lieutenant-colonel of the Eighth Regiment, is interesting as an important historical statement, and is as follows:

"On Monday, April 15, 1861, at quarter-past two o'clock, in reply to an offer of my services made in the morning of that day, I received from Governor Andrew a verbal command to summon the companies of the Eighth Regiment, by his authority, to rendezvous at Faneuil Hall at the earliest possible hour. Leaving Boston on the half-past two o'clock train, I proceeded to Lynn, and personally notified the commanding officers of the two companies in that city, and from thence telegraphed to Captain Bartlett at Newburyport, and Captain Centre of Gloucester, and then drove to Beverly and summoned the company there; and from thence hastened to Marblehead, where I personally notified the commanding officers of the three Marblehead companies. I found Captain Martin in his slaughter-house, with the carcass of a hog, just killed, and in readiness for the "scald." On communicating to the captain my orders, I advised him to immediately cause the bells of the town to be rung, and to get all the recruits he could. Taking his coat from a peg, he seemed for a moment to hesitate about leaving his business unfinished, and then turned to me, and with words of emphatic indifference in regard to it, put the garment on, with his arms yet stained with blood and his shirt-sleeves but half rolled down, and with me left the premises to rally his company.

"On Tuesday, April 16, I was directed to remain on duty at Faneuil Hall, and during the forenoon the following named companies arrived there and reported for duty, to wit;--

"1. Companies C, Eighth Regiment, forty muskets, Capt. Knott V. Martin, and H, Eighth Regiment, Capt. Francis Boardman, both of Marblehead, which place they left at half-past seven o'clock A.M. and arrived in Boston at about nine o'clock.

"2. Company D, Fourth Regiment, thirty-two muskets, Sergt. H.F. Wales, left home about nine o'clock, and arrived at about ten A.M.

"3. Company B, Eighth Regiment, forty muskets, Capt. Richard Phillips, of Marblehead, left home at nine o'clock, and arrived in Faneuil Hall about eleven A.M.

"The above is substantially a true record, as will appear by reference to the files of the "Journal" of that date, and is prompted only by a desire to do justice to Captain Martin and the patriotic men of Marblehead, who, on the outbreak of the Rebellion, were the first to leave home, the first to arrive in Boston, and subsequently, under my command, the first to leave the yard of the Naval Academy at Annapolis, to repair and relay the track in the march through Maryland to relieve the beleaguered capitol of the Nation."

On the morning after the departure of the companies, thirty more men left Marblehead to join them. The greatest enthusiasm prevailed throughout the town, and men everywhere were ready and anxious to enlist. Of the patriotic spirit of the people, no better evidence can be given than that contained in the reply of Governor Andrew to a gentleman who asked him if any more men would be needed. "For heaven's sake," replied the governor, "don't send any more men from Marblehead, for it is imposing on your goodness to take so many as have already come!"

The citizens were not less prompt to act than those who had rallied for the defence of the nation. On the 20th of April, a town meeting was held to provide for the families of the soldiers, and the old town hall was crowded to repletion. Mr. Adoniram C. Orne was chosen moderator. The venerable town clerk, Capt. Glover Broughton, a veteran of the War of 1812, was there beside the moderator, his hands tremulous with emotion, awaiting the action of his fellow-citizens. "It was voted that the town treasurer be authorized to hire the sum of five thousand dollars, to be distributed for the relief of the families of those who have gone or are going to fight the battles of their country." A committee of five persons was chosen to repair to the assessors' room and report the names of ten persons to act as distributors of the fund. The town was divided into districts, and the following gentlemen were chosen as a distributing committee, namely: Messrs, Thomas Main, John J. Lyon, Frederick Robinson, William Courtis, William Litchman, Stephen Hathaway, Jr., James J.H. Gregory, John C. Hamson, Jr., Richard Tutt, Joshua O. Bowden.

No resolutions were adopted. The times called for action, and "_Factis non verbis_." was the motto of the hour. But human nature must find some vent for enthusiasm, and we are informed in the records, by the faithful clerk, that "three cheers were then given." They probably shook the building for genuine Marble-headers are blessed with strong lungs, and can never cheer by rule.

The patriotism of the ladies of Marblehead at this time and throughout the entire period of the war cannot be overestimated. With loving hearts and willing hands, they contributed their time, their labor, and their money for the benefit of those who had gone forth to battle. The work of some was of a public nature, and the deeds of these are recorded; but the only record of hundreds who worked quietly in their own homes was written on the grateful hearts of the soldiers for whom they labored.

On the 22d of April a meeting of the ladies was held at the town hall, and a Soldiers' Aid Society was organized. The object was to perform such work as was necessary for the comfort of the soldiers, and to furnish articles of clothing, medicines, and delicacies for use in the hospitals. Mrs. Maria L. Williams was elected president. That lady subsequently resigned, and Mrs. Margaret Newhall became president, and Mrs. Mary M. Oliver, secretary.

On the following day, eighteen ladies met at the Sewall Grammar School-house, on Spring Street, and organized a committee to solicit money for the benefit of the soldiers. The following are the names of the ladies who composed this committee:--Miss Mary E. Graves, _President_; Miss Mary A. Alley, _Secretary_; Miss Mary L. Pitman, _Treasurer_; Mrs. Mary Glover, Mrs. Hannah Hidden, Miss Harriet Newhall, Miss Tabitha Trefry, Mrs. Hannah J. Hathaway, Mrs. John F. Harris, Miss Amy K. Prentiss, Miss Sarah E. Sparhawk, Miss Hannah J. Woodfin, Miss Lizzie Cross, Miss Mary A. Cross, Mrs. Hannah Doak, Miss Alicia H. Gilley, Miss Carrie Paine, Miss Mary E. Homan.

In less than one week from the time of their organization the ladies of this committee had collected the sum of $508.17. The teachers of the public schools generously contributed six per cent of their salaries for the year in aid of the object; and there was a disposition manifested by the people generally, to give _something_, however small the amount.

Stirring reports were now received from the companies at the seat of war. The blockading of the railroad to Baltimore by the Secessionists; the seizure of the steamer Maryland; and the saving of the old frigate Constitution, in which their fathers fought so valiantly, caused the hearts of the people to swell with pride, as they related the story one to another. The men of Captain Boardman's company were the first to board "Old Ironsides," and a delegation of them helped to man her on the voyage to New York. The sufferings of their soldier boys, who were obliged to eat pilot bread baked in the year "1848," brought tears to the eyes of many an anxious mother. But the tears were momentary only, and the sufferings of the boys were forgotten in the joy that Marblehead soldiers had been permitted to lead the advance on the memorable march to Annapolis Junction and to relay the track which had been torn up to prevent the passage of the troops. The arrival of the troops in Washington; the new uniforms furnished in place of those worn out in eight days; and the quartering of soldiers in the United States Capitol Building, was all related in the letters that came home.

Some of these letters were so full of patriotic sentiment that they should be preserved to testify of the spirit of the men of Marblehead who participated in the struggle for national life. I have space only for one of these, which is quoted in full because it is so characteristic of the heroic old veteran who wrote it.

"HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES, WASHINGTON CITY, April 27, 1861.

"_Dear Sir_: We arrived in Washington yesterday after a great deal of hardship and privation, living for thirty-six hours at a time on one small loaf to a man; water a great part of the time very scarce, and not of a very good quality. But the men bore it almost without a murmur. The Eighth Regiment had the honor of taking the noble old frigate Constitution out of the dock at Annapolis, and placing her out of reach of the Secessionists. The Eighth came from Annapolis to Washington, in company with the New York Seventh,--God bless them. They shared with us their last morsel; and the two regiments together have laid railroad tracks, built bridges, run steam-engines, and contracted an eternal friendship, which has been cemented by deeds of daring for each other. We have encamped in corn-fields, on railroad embankments, with one eye open while sleeping; and have opened R.R. communication between Annapolis and Washington, for all troops which may hereafter want to pass that way.

"Give my love to all friends of the Stars and Stripes, and my eternal hatred to its enemies.

"Yours Respectfully,

"KNOTT V. MARTIN. To WM. B. BROWN, Esq."

During the latter part of April, active measures were taken to recruit another company to join those already in the field. In a few davs the "Mugford Guards," a full company of fifty-seven men, was organized, and Captain Benjamin Day was commissioned as commander. Every effort was made to get the new company in readiness for departure as soon as possible. The men were without uniforms, and the school teachers at once voted to furnish the materials for making them, at their own expense. Mr. John Marr, the local tailor, offered his services as cutter, and they were gratefully accepted. On Sunday, May 5, the ladies of the Soldiers Aid Society, with a large number of others, assembled at Academy Hall, and industriously worked throughout the entire day and evening to make up the uniforms.

On the following day, the town voted to appropriate the sum of $400 to furnish the company with comfortable and necessary clothing.

On the 7th of June another meeting was held, and the town voted to borrow a sum not exceeding ten thousand dollars, to be applied by the selectmen in aid of the families of volunteers.

On the morning of Monday, June 24, the new company took its departure for the "seat of war." The soldiers were escorted to the entrance of the town by the Mugford Fire Association and a large concourse of citizens. Almost the entire community assembled in the streets to say "farewell," and to bid them "God speed." On arriving at the locality known as the "Work-house Rocks," the procession halted, and the soldiers were addressed by William B. Brown, Esq., in behalf of the citizens.

The soldiers embarked for Boston in wagons which were in waiting, and departed amid the deafening cheers of the citizens.

On Thursday, August 1, the three Marblehead companies arrived home. Arrangements had been made to give them an enthusiastic welcome. At three o'clock in the afternoon a procession was formed, consisting of the Marblehead Band, the "Home Guards," the boards of town officers, the entire fire department, and the scholars of the public schools. An interesting feature of the procession was thirteen young ladies, representing the original States, wearing white dresses, and red, white, and blue veils. The arrival of the train bringing the soldiers was announced by the ringing of bells, the firing of guns, and the joyful acclamations of the people. They were received at the depot at about six o'clock P.M., and escorted to the "Town House" where an address of welcome was delivered by Jonathan H. Orne, Esq., a member of the board of selectmen.

On the afternoon of the following day, the veterans were given a grand reception. The procession was again formed, and they were escorted about town to Fort Sewall, where a dinner was served.

Shortly after the return of the companies, Capt. Knott V. Martin resigned as commander of the Sutton Light Infantry, and recruited a company for the Twenty-third Regiment. More than half the members of this company were enlisted in Marblehead. They left for the seat of war during the month of November.

It does not fall within the province of this article to trace the fortunes of the sons of Marblehead through the long and cruel war. Their experience, however, was not unlike that of thousands who suffered and died for the nation. With patient endurance and the fortitude of martyrs, they drank to the dregs the bitter cup of war. Through the long and fatiguing marches, in the many hard fought battles, and in the hopeless agony of life in the prison-pens, they were manly and true. It is unnecessary to say more. By the self-sacrificing devotion of heroes like these, the nation was saved.

* * * * *

EQUINOCTIAL.

By Sidney Maxwell.

The autumn day is almost spent. And yet No length' ning shadows mark the sun's decline, For all is shadowed by the cold, gray mist Which long has driven with the fitful wind, And still it is not gone. How chill the air! It seems but yesterday that summer's breath, Sultry and dry, distressed the thirsty fields-- And now the skies, repentant of their fault, Will more than make amends. It rains again, Beating a doleful measure on the pane, Sobbing in sad, wild cadence through the street While ever 'mid the rising, falling strains The eaves drop notes as those of muffled drum, Alone in rhythm, save, perchance, the beat Of some tired horse's hoofs, as, homeward bound, He treads the flooded pavement stones. And now The sun, weary of contest for the day, Forsakes the scene and sinks away to rest, Leaving the world to darkness and to rain.

* * * * *

EDITOR'S TABLE.

The Democrats of Massachusetts are perplexed in regard to the choice of a candidate for gubernatorial honors. In their dilemma they seem indisposed to heed the counsel of the venerable Dutchman who, on a certain critical occasion, asserted that it was not wise to "swap horses while crossing a stream."

It so happens that in this present year the Democratic party throughout the country is crossing a stream, a deep and muddy one which divides its former prestige from its future hopes and prospects. The wise and foolish members of the party are at loggerheads. Both have taken into their confidence an anomalous contingent which is neither in sympathy, nor even in alliance with them as regards principles. The Mugwumps, so called, whose only recommendation in politics is, that they have a well-filled purse and know how to use it to bolster up what they are pleased to designate as _their_ "independence," after having bitterly opposed the Democratic party, in season and out of season, now join hands with their deluded brethren for a grand all hands round. By their help a President of the United States has been elected, by their dictation his policy has been mapped out, and by their threatening attitude the entire administration is controlled. A similar condition of affairs was never before known in the history of American politics.

Now, the Independent Republican will always be a Republican in principles. The same honest motives which impelled him to oppose the chosen candidates of a majority of the Republican party, at the last national canvass, will again and always prompt him to oppose a Simon-pure Democrat of the Democrats. So long as he can have his own way, he will deny an equal right to his political neighbor. One thing is very evident, and that is, in Massachusetts the Independents are bound to rule so long as the Democratic party will continue to let them; and that the administration encourages this state of affairs is alike evident to all careful observers. It would be easy to make some very interesting disclosures on this theme, and it is not improbable that they will be made very shortly.

But we began by asserting that the party in the old Bay State is in a quandary. It has reached a point when one of two alternatives must be chosen,--either to force an issue with its allies, as well as with its Republican opponents, by nominating a downright, old-fashioned Democrat for the governorship; or, acquiescing with the wishes of its allies, to attempt a quasi victory over its opponents. In the former case defeat would be honorable, though defeat is by no means a foregone conclusion; in the latter case a victory is probable which would be worse than a defeat for the Democrats. We may not presume to give any advice in this matter; and yet it would seem that some well-intentioned and honest advice is needed. If there is to-day a true-blue, a frank and out-spoken Democratic newspaper in the city of Boston, we do not know its name. Our esteemed contemporaries of so-called Democratic persuasion, in this cultured city, are either bridled by the administration or are timid in expressing their convictions. Why has it never occurred to any one of them to urge the selection of a candidate that has _not_ allied himself with the new gods in Israel,--a stanch, dyed-in-the-wool, old-fashioned Jackson Democrat, such for example as the HONORABLE CHARLES LEVI WOODBURY? He has always been an ornament to his party, wise and prudent in his counsels, broad in his scholarship and still broader in his views, untrammelled in his profession of honest principles, and true to the faith. He was never known to wander after strange gods: he has never paraded before the eyes of the public, clad in a Joseph's coat of many colors; he has never sought the emolument or the honor of public office, and yet, if we are not greatly mistaken, his scrupulous fidelity to party principles, his unswerving integrity, and the confidence which men of all parties repose in him, have merited for him as high an honor as lies within the gift of the people. There are but few such men in Massachusetts, and their worth is only comprehended when they are compared with that of the aristocratic dudes whom President Cleveland has thus far smiled upon in this state.

The Massachusetts Democrats have this year a grand opportunity to assert their independence, and to set a wholesome example to the party in other states. They can do no safer, wiser, or more honorable thing than to nominate Judge Woodbury, a Democrat of Democrats, as their standard bearer.

The Boston _Evening Record_ is a sample of daily journalism that is getting to be rather common nowadays. Like many other of its contemporaries, it seems to be impressed with the idea that the province of a newspaper is to _coin_ facts rather than to chronicle them; and that editorial ability consists in getting away from the truth as far as possible.

In a recent issue, it comments on General Butler's article in the _North American Review,_ and more particularly upon the reason why the General did not desire the Republican nomination for the Vice Presidency in 1864, expressed by him as follows:--

Being made to sit as presiding officer over the senate, to listen for four years to debates more or less stupid, in which I can take no part or say a word, nor even be allowed a vote upon any subject which concerns the welfare of the country, except when my enemies might think my vote would injure me in the estimation of the people, and therefore, by some parliamentary trick, make a tie on such question, so I should be compelled to vote; and then, at the end of four years (as nowadays no Vice President is ever elected President), and because of the dignity of the position I had held, not to be permitted to go on with my profession, and therefore with nothing left for me to do save to ornament my lot in the cemetery tastefully, and get into it gracefully and respectably, as a Vice President should do.

The _Record_ asserts that, "this is about as near the truth as Butler ever gets," and then goes on to make some additional statements which, to say the least, are exceedingly interesting, and _proofs_ of which the Editor's Table respectfully requests.

The _Record_ says; "It is true that his (Butler's) name was proposed for the nomination for Vice President in 1864."

Upon whose authority does this assertion rest, and _by whom_ was General Butler's name thus proposed?

The _Record_ says:--"It is also true that he (Butler) heard of it, and objected to the plan not for the reasons he now gives, but because he '_didn't want to run on the ticket with Abe Lincoln.'"_

Intensely interesting this, an important fact it would seem for the future historian. But,--will the _Record_ please quote its authority?

The _Record_ says:--"That this was the ground for his (Butler's) refusal to take the nomination, in case it should be offered to him, was well known to those who were informed of the exact state of affairs at the time."

The historian is still incredulous. All this "was well known to those who were informed," etc.,--undoubtedly, but _who_ were these persons? Will the _Record_ cite the name of one _living_ man thus informed? Did General George A. Gordon know anything about it: and if not, why not?

The _Record_ says:--"Butler, in the last days of the war, uttered an insult to the President who was shortly to be made a martyr."

Well, this is really a serious charge, and the public certainly will be interested in knowing what the "insult" was. Will the _Record_ kindly explain? For the present, the subject may rest here. In the name of truth and justice, however, the Editor's Table humbly requests that the _Evening Record_ will enlighten its contemporaries.

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The Republican newspapers have all been pleased to remark that President Cleveland has done a very decent thing by refusing to appoint as post-master at Mr. Blaine's home, in Augusta, the Democratic editor, who "was virulently active in publishing particularly unclean falsehoods concerning the Republican candidate last fall." Mr. Blaine had a perfect right to object, and he exercised the right, to the appointment of Morton; and likewise, the President had a perfect right not to heed the objection,--a right, however, which he did not exercise. The action of the President therefore commends itself to the right-thinking men of all parties.

So far as the Editor's Table can remember, this is the first opportunity that the Republican newspapers have improved to say anything good of President Cleveland, who, it is not forgotten, was a target for as virulent and uncalled for abuse as was ever heaped upon any known American citizen. Magnanimity is always in order even in politics.

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Civil Service Reform seems to-day to be the mare of the Mugwumps and the nightmare of everybody else. The eloquence or, if you please, the waste of words which the minority employ in advocating its deceptive principles, is only to be contrasted with the almost ludicrous indifference with which both Republican and Democratic majorities regard it. Thoughtful people are, at this time, more concerned with the prospective treatment of the tariff problem.

Now, it is neither our purpose nor desire to add to the literature of discussion, on this important theme; but one thought which occurs to us may here be submitted in the form of a question. People who talk much on tariff topics are supposed to be interested in the same, and to have some reason, good, bad, or indifferent, for advancing their diverse arguments.

To all such, the inquiry may be addressed:--Are you sure that you believe in a "protective" tariff because you think it is a _public_ benefit, or because you think it is a private benefit?

And again:--Does "protective" tariff protect? If it does,--whom?

Last autumn, the cry arose throughout the land that free trade meant the destruction of home labor, and the "introduction of the pauper labor of Europe," or at least a competition at home with the pauper labor of Europe. Well, some very dismal pictures have been drawn of the condition of the pauper labor of Europe, and when thinking of them, it must be confessed that one does not like to run any risks.

But suppose that we widen the thought a little. At this very moment, the iron monopoly of this country is raising a fund to head off a tariff revision, or to bring about an increased duty. What can be said of the Iron Monopoly? This, as one fact; that in Pennsylvania, it employs miners at _fourteen_ dollars a month, charges them _five_ dollars a month each for a tenement in which to live, and charges them exorbitant prices for the food and provisions which, in spite of a law prohibiting the system, _must_ be purchased at the Monopoly's stores. At the end of the month, many of these miners have not only consumed every dollar of their wages but are actually in debt. It is stated, further, as an incontestable fact that, "a miner who objects to the amount of work or wages given to him gets no more of either, for he is at once dropped from the rolls, and his name is sent to the neighboring mines as that of a man unlit for employment." These people subsist--miraculously--on scanty and unwholesome food, and frequently are subjected to the greatest hardships.

We assert that this is no fanciful picture. It is the absolute truth, with the worst untold. Monopoly is fond of calling these pitiable men "Molly Maguires,"--"a dangerous class that must be carefully watched!" These men are _protected_, and their industry and their entire living afford a charming picture of the results of the "protective" system, so far as the Iron Monopoly is concerned. With such facts as these to ponder over, and with the additional knowledge that there is not a single person today employed in a cotton or woolen mill in the United States who is not taxed _in the name of protection_, to enrich the corporation for whom he labors, it seems almost inexplicable that _honest_ men should neglect one of the greatest and, as God knows, one of the most threatening problems of this age and country, and waste words and precious moments over that most arrant humbug--Civil Service Reform. The People are more important than the Government: for to-day the Government is the politicians.

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HISTORICAL RECORD.

September 10.--The seventy-second anniversary of our first great Naval victory was celebrated at Newport, R.I. The most important incident was the unveiling of the statue erected to the honor of its hero. Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry. The order of exercises included a brilliant oration by the Hon. William P. Sheffield, chairman of the Perry statue committee, this oration by courtesy of its author being printed in full in this number of the Bay State Monthly; other addresses at the unveiling were made by Governor George Peabody Wetmore and Mayor Robert S. Franklin. At the banquet among the speakers were the Governor, Hon. George Bancroft, the historian, Mayor Franklin, Judge Blatchford, Chief Justice Durfee, Admiral Rodgers, and Admiral Almy. The occasion was an exceedingly notable one.

September 12.--The two hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the incorporation of the town of Concord, Mass., was celebrated with appropriate military and civic exercises. There was first, a procession, reviewed by the Governor and invited guests. At the town hall an oration was delivered by Senator George F. Hoar, and other interesting literary exercises took place, at the conclusion of which the line was reformed and the march was taken up to the Hall where the dinner was served. Judge John S. Keyes presided, and the principal after dinner speeches were made by William M. Evarts, George William Curtis, George F. Hoar, E. Rockwood Hoar, James Russell Lowell, and others.

September 15.--The town of Hingham, Mass., celebrated the quarter millenial of its incorporation as a town. Business was generally suspended, and all the prominent residences and public buildings were elaborately decorated. There was a procession at 11 A.M. to the "old meeting house." The order of exercises at this place included an oration by Hon. Solomon Lincoln. A banquet was spread in Agricultural Hail, attended by ex-governor Long and many other notables. The bells on all the churches were rung at sunset and as darkness settled over the town, bonfires were lighted upon Baker's, Otis, Planter's, Turkey, Liberty Pole and Prospect Hills. The Hingham band gave an open air concert, and in the evening the citizens and invited guests held a social reunion at the hall.

September 16--The annual Salisbury beach gathering opened and continued through the 17th. About five thousand persons attended. The exercises consisted of band concerts, base ball, illuminations, etc.

September 16.--The great race in New York harbor between the Yankee yacht "Puritan" and the English yacht "Genesta,"--the second in the contest was won by the former, thus deciding that the America's cup shall remain in America. The sailing tune was: Puritan, 5.03. 14: Genesta, 5.04. 52.

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OBITUARY.

September 1.--In Cohasset, Mass., Charles Faulkner of the Boston and New York firm of Faulkner, Page & Co.

September 6.--In New Bedford, Mass., William A. Wall, a well known artist.

September 8.--In Hanover, N.H., Edward A. Rollins of Philadelphia, ex-commissioner of internal revenue.

September 8.--In Haverhill, Mass., Rev. Raymond H. Seeley, D.D. a prominent Congregational clergyman.

September 12.--Jonathan Cartland of Lee, Mass, died, aged seventy-six. He was one of the leading old guard of abolitionists, an uncompromising prohibitory advocate, and a bosom friend and co-worker of Wendell Phillips. He held many important town and county offices. He was a warm friend of the fleeing negroes from the South to Canada, his home being the refuge for many, and often piloting them from there by night to the Canadian border.

September 14.--The death of Hon. Oliver Warner occurred at Lynn, Mass. He was the son of Oliver Warner of Northampton, where he was born on April 17, 1818. He was graduated at Williams College in 1842, and subsequently at Gilmanton Theological Seminary. He officiated as a Congregational clergyman at Chesterfield from 1844 to 1846. In 1552 and 1853 he was a tutor at Williston Seminary, Easthampton. In 1854 and 1855 he served in the Massachusetts House of Representatives, and in 1856 and 1857 in the Senate. He occupied the position of secretary of state for eighteen years, retiring in 1876. His majority in 1872 was greater than any other on the Republican ticket. In 1875 considerable opposition was made to his election, the effect of which was to lose him the Republican nomination and the office. From 1876 to 1879 he filled the position of librarian of the State Library. In September, 1882, he married Miss Newhall of Lynn, and departed on a six months' tour in Europe.

September 16.--Rev. Benjamin F. Tefft, D.D., LL.D., a widely known Methodist divine, died, aged seventy two years, from a shock of paralysis received on Friday. He was one of the ablest pulpit orators in the denomination, has been a president of the Genesee College, editor of the Methodist Book concern and author of several works. He was a member of the New York Geographical and Statistical Society, the Society of Arts of London, etc. He was United States consul to Stockholm in 1862, and acting minister to Sweden, and commissioner of emigration from Europe to the state of Maine in 1864. He has been in poor health the past two years. Dr. Tefft was the author of "Evolution and Christianity," published last Spring, a veritable encyclopaedia of Evolution-lore.

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AMONG THE BOOKS.

A very notable contribution to the annals of our times is the publication of the _Writings and Speeches of Samuel L. Tilden_[2] This contribution is comprised in two volumes, and is so complete in itself as to ensure a welcome from not only a large body of political sympathizers and admirers but also from all students of American political history. Mr. Tilden has the honor of being unquestionably the greatest Democratic leader of recent years, and, in more ways than one, of being a unique figure among the statesmen whom his country has produced.

He was born in New Lebanon, N.Y. 1814, and before he reached his majority he began to discuss political questions in print and on the rostrum. In these early, as well as in later years, he was in his instincts a conservative; as time moved on, he grew more and more fond of the democracy of Jefferson and of Jackson, and their democracy, it may be said, has had, during the past quarter of a century, no more devoted or worthier expounder and representative than Mr. Tilden. No question of paramount interest has arisen that has not, from the Democratic standpoint, received his attention. When the nullifiers assaulted the Union he stood by it; whenever anybody has undertaken to advocate the American "protection" system, he has invariably denounced it as unconstitutional, in this respect differing from another leading Democrat, General Butler. Mr. Tilden also stood by the removal of the deposits from the United States Banks, advocated the establishment of the Sub Treasury, and was the first to contend for free banking. He asserted the supervision of legislatures over charters of their own creation. He protested against the nationalization of slavery in 1848.

These few specifications of a general character, to say nothing of those of special interest, indicate something of the wealth of thought and expression contained within the covers of these volumes. Of the minor themes, one was exceedingly important in its day, and important also as a lesson for future municipalities,--namely, the Tweed charter for New York city and the story of the destruction of the Tweed ring. It is herein presented with the fullest details.

Mr. Bigelow, the editor of the collection, has happily taken the time for publication when Mr. Tilden has retired from active political service; and thus the volumes may now be read with a less prejudiced mind than in a former period of years.

It is impossible not to derive information and suggestions from a careful perusal of these discussions, and inspiration from the _dignity_ with which they are conducted; at the same time the reader is somehow impressed in the perusal that Mr. Tilden is neither a _great_ statesman _per se_, nor always a safe one to follow. At this hour, it would be difficult to estimate the influence which he has exerted upon the politics of his time. The accident of a political defeat, rather than any extraordinary ability of his own, won for him the remarkable and enthusiastic loyalty of his party, and perhaps also a political immortality. As is still remembered, he bore his defeat manfully and with a dignified grace unexampled in history, when all the circumstances are considered, and this will be to his everlasting honor. During his active participation in politics, Mr. Tilden was a partisan, in the best sense of that word, as every man must be who lives and _thinks_ under our system of government. He cherished principles directly opposed to those of a host of his contemporaries, and this, too, was a prerogative of his citizenship. Nevertheless, the integrity of his character was never questioned, his motives were always honorable, his opinions were generally carefully conceded and candidly asserted, his acts never savored of trickery. We wish as much could be said of many who have professed admiration of the man, as well as of many who have not scrupled to malign him to a merciless degree.

[Footnote 2: The Writings and Speeches of Samuel J. Tilden. Edited by John Bigelow In two volumes. New York: Harper & Brothers. Price $6.00.]

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We have been particularly pleased with the four volumes which are comprised in the "Garnet Series."[3]--They are, to speak first of their mechanical attractions, handsomely made, as regards paper, press-work and binding, and at once tempt the reader to look within. The object of their publication is to furnish in neat but low priced books choice reading to so called Chautauqua circles; and thus far there is a promise of brilliant success.

The character of the contents of these volumes demands neither explanation nor criticism at this time. _Readings from Ruskin_ is edited with a suitable introduction, by Prof. H.A. Beers of Yale College, and the selections are made mostly from the great writer's chapters pertaining to Italy. The _Readings from Macaulay_ also pertains to Italy, including the remarkable essays on Dante, Petrarch and Machiavelli, and the Lays of Ancient Rome, and is pleasantly "introduced" by Donald G. Mitchell. An exceedingly timely volume is that entitled _Art and the Formation of Taste_, by Lucy Crane, with illustrations drawn by Thomas and Walter Crane. It is one of the most inspiring and practical books on the subject that have been written in our generation. Charles C. Black's _Michael Angelo_ contains within 275 pages the principal facts of the great sculptor's life and labors, faithfully and appreciatively recounted. It is, so far as it goes, declared to be a very valuable work. We cannot too highly commend these publications. Every one of them is an incentive to further reading and reflection.

[Footnote 3: THE GARNET SERIES;--Readings from Ruskin--Readings from Macauley--Art and the Formation of Taste--Life and Works of Michel Angelo. 5 vols. Boston; The Chautauqua Press.]

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Dr. George H. Moore is the superintendent of the Lenox Library and a man who is not afraid to dip into old parchments and musty records. We wish that there were more of his kind. Students of our local annals are indebted to him for the preparation and publication of two important and interesting brochures, which have recently appeared. His _Notes on the History of the old State House_,[4] formerly known as "The Town House in Boston," "The Court House in Boston," "The Province Court House," "The State House," and "The City Hall" was first read before the Bostonian Society, last May, and was listened to with the closest attention. The second brochure, embracing 120 pages, bears the title: _Final notes on Witchcraft in Massachusetts_[5] and is a vindication of the laws and liberties concerning attainders with corruptions of Blood, Escheats, forfeitures for crime and pardon of offenders, etc. This is the fifth pamphlet which Dr. Moore has issued on the subject of Witchcraft in Massachusetts, and it concludes the series. We hope, at a future time, to be able to refer to them again, for they shed much light on our colonial history, and to our historical literature constitute very valuable additions.

[Footnote 4: Notes on the History of the Old State House. By George H. Moore, LL. D. Boston: Cupples, Upham & Co. Paper. 50 cents.]

[Footnote 5: Final notes on Witchcraft in Massachusetts. By same author. New York: Printed for the author. Sold in Boston, by Cupples, Upham & Co. Paper, $1.00.]

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Mr. Smith's recent work on _The Science of Business_[6] should be read, and its facts and arguments carefully weighed, by all men of business. It professes to be a study of the principles controlling the laws of exchange. Reasoning from analogies existing in the natural world, the author logically deduces his law that civilization moves along lines of least resistance, and contends that this law holds true throughout the phenomena of mind also. The law of the survival of the fittest is but another expression of the subject under discussion. "Do we not see civilization," asks the author, "advancing along those lines where the tractive forces are the greatest, where the least labor will produce the largest crops, and where the obstacles to complete living are the fewest? Do not people invest their money where it will safely bring the largest returns? Do we not buy in the cheapest, and sell in the dearest market? Does not the tide of immigration set from least favored nations to the most favored?" There is still one other law,--that motion is always rhythmical. These two principles or laws Mr. Smith applies to his theories regarding general business, the iron industry, the building of railroads, immigration, stocks, exchange, foreign trade, etc. Indeed his theories are based on these laws, and are worthy of consideration if not always of acceptance. We quote one reflection:--"If we admit that business motions are in the line of least resistance, and rhythmic, and that these rhythms show a tendency to become balanced, we may conclude that panics and periods of depression will always continue at intervals, with this qualification, the next period of depression will not be as severe as the present, and the next less severe, and so on, until, to all outward signs, they will at last cease."

By reason of a lack of space, we cannot say all that we had wished to say in regard to this work. It is, on the whole, a most ingenious argument, well conceived and brilliantly sustained. We are not sure that Mr. Smith has not explained satisfactorily some of the nuggets of mystery which have so long puzzled the brains of business men.

[Footnote 6: The Science of Business. By Roderick H. Smith, New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons. Price $1.25.]

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PUBLISHER'S DEPARTMENT.

An early forthcoming issue of the Bay State Monthly will contain an elaborate article of great value upon the manufactures and various important industries of "A Model Industrial City," for which fine illustrations are being prepared.

Special invitation is extended to all Public and private Libraries, Historical, Intellectual and Literary Societies, as well as to every lover of New England, to join their efforts with ours to the end that the Bay State Monthly shall be a competent medium of preserving the great and rapidly increasing amount of history pertaining to New England, and no less a worthy representative of its literature and material progress.

We tender our thanks to the Holyoke _Transcript_ for the very courteous aid rendered our management.

We desire to heartily thank the press of the entire country for the cordial and appreciative welcome extended to the Bay State Monthly since it has been published under its new management. On an advertising page in this number are to be found a few comments, selected from hundreds of similar notices given by representative newspapers in nearly every state in the Union.

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End of Project Gutenberg's The Bay State Monthly, Volume 3, No. 5, by Various