MARGARET SMITH'S JOURNAL TALES AND SKETCHES

 BY

 JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER

The intelligent reader of the following record cannot fail to noticeoccasional inaccuracies in respect to persons, places, and dates; and, as a matter of course, will make due allowance for the prevailingprejudices and errors of the period to which it relates. That there arepassages indicative of a comparatively recent origin, and calculated tocast a shade of doubt over the entire narrative, the Editor would be thelast to deny, notwithstanding its general accordance with historicalverities and probabilities. Its merit consists mainly in the fact thatit presents a tolerably lifelike picture of the Past, and introduces usfamiliarly to the hearths and homes of New England in the seventeenthcentury. 

A full and accurate account of Secretary Rawson and his family is aboutto be published by his descendants, to which the reader is referred whowishes to know more of the personages who figure prominently in thisJournal. 

1866. 

MARGARET SMITH'S JOURNAL IN THE PROVINCE OF MASSACHUSETTS BAY, 1678-9

TALES AND SKETCHES

 MY SUMMER WITH DR. SINGLETARY: A FRAGMENT

 THE LITTLE IRON SOLDIER PASSACONAWAY THE OPIUM EATER THE PROSELYTES DAVID MATSON THE FISH I DID N'T CATCH YANKEE GYPSIES THE TRAINING THE CITY OF A DAY PATUCKET FALLS FIRST DAY IN LOWELL THE LIGHTING UP TAKING COMFORT CHARMS AND FAIRY FAITH MAGICIANS AND WITCH FOLK THE BEAUTIFUL THE WORLD'S END THE HEROINE OF LONG POINT

MARGARET SMITH'S JOURNAL

IN THE PROVINCE OF MASSACHUSETTS BAY

1678-9. 

BOSTON, May 8, 1678. 

I remember I did promise my kind Cousin Oliver (whom I pray God to havealways in his keeping), when I parted with him nigh unto three monthsago, at mine Uncle Grindall's, that, on coming to this new country, I would, for his sake and perusal, keep a little journal of whatsoeverdid happen both unto myself and unto those with whom I might sojourn;as also, some account of the country and its marvels, and mine owncogitations thereon. So I this day make a beginning of the same;albeit, as my cousin well knoweth, not from any vanity of authorship, or because of any undue confiding in my poor ability to edify one justlyheld in repute among the learned, but because my heart tells me thatwhat I write, be it ever so faulty, will be read by the partial eye ofmy kinsman, and not with the critical observance of the scholar, andthat his love will not find it difficult to excuse what offends hisclerkly judgment. And, to embolden me withal, I will never forget thatI am writing for mine old playmate at hide-and-seek in the farm-house atHilton, --the same who used to hunt after flowers for me in the spring, and who did fill my apron with hazel-nuts in the autumn, and who wasthen, I fear, little wiser than his still foolish cousin, who, if shehath not since learned so many new things as himself, hath perhapsremembered more of the old. Therefore, without other preface, I willbegin my record. 

Of my voyage out I need not write, as I have spoken of it in my lettersalready, and it greatly irks me to think of it. Oh, a very long, dismaltime of sickness and great discomforts, and many sad thoughts of allI had left behind, and fears of all I was going to meet in the NewEngland! I can liken it only to an ugly dream. When we got at lastto Boston, the sight of the land and trees, albeit they were exceedingbleak and bare (it being a late season, and nipping cold), was like untoa vision of a better world. As we passed the small wooded islands, which make the bay very pleasant, and entered close upon the town, andsaw the houses; and orchards, and meadows, and the hills beyond coveredwith a great growth of wood, my brother, lifting up both of his hands, cried out, "How goodly are thy tents, O Jacob, and thy habitations, OIsrael!" and for my part I did weep for joy and thankfulness of heart, that God had brought us safely to so fair a haven. Uncle and AuntRawson met us on the wharf, and made us very comfortable at their house, which is about half a mile from the water-side, at the foot of a hill, with an oaken forest behind it, to shelter it from the north wind, whichis here very piercing. Uncle is Secretary of the Massachusetts, andspends a great part of his time in town; and his wife and family arewith him in the winter season, but they spend their summers at hisplantation on the Merrimac River, in Newbury. His daughter, Rebecca, is just about my age, very tall and lady-looking; she is like herbrother John, who was at Uncle Hilton's last year. She hath, moreover, a pleasant wit, and hath seen much goodly company, being greatly admiredby the young men of family and distinction in the Province. She hathbeen very kind to me, telling me that she looked upon me as a sister. I have been courteously entertained, moreover, by many of the principalpeople, both of the reverend clergy and the magistracy. Nor must Iforbear to mention a visit which I paid with Uncle and Aunt Rawson atthe house of an aged magistrate of high esteem and influence in theseparts. He saluted me courteously, and made inquiries concerning ourfamily, and whether I had been admitted into the Church. On my tellinghim that I had not, he knit his brows, and looked at me very sternly. 

"Mr. Rawson, " said he, "your niece, I fear me, has much more need ofspiritual adorning than of such gewgaws as these, " and took hold of mylace ruff so hard that I heard the stitches break; and then he pulledout my sleeves, to see how wide they were, though they were only half anell. Madam ventured to speak a word to encourage me, for she saw I wasmuch abashed and flustered, yet he did not heed her, but went on talkingvery loud against the folly and the wasteful wantonness of the times. Poor Madam is a quiet, sickly-looking woman, and seems not a little inawe of her husband, at the which I do not marvel, for he hath a veryimpatient, forbidding way with him, and, I must say, seemed to carryhimself harshly at times towards her. Uncle Rawson says he has had muchto try his temper; that there have been many and sore difficulties inChurch as well as State; and he hath bitter enemies, in some of themembers of the General Court, who count him too severe with the Quakersand other disturbers and ranters. I told him it was no doubt true; butthat I thought it a bad use of the Lord's chastenings to abuse one'sbest friends for the wrongs done by enemies; and, that to be made toatone for what went ill in Church or State, was a kind of vicarioussuffering that, if I was in Madam's place, I should not bear with halfher patience and sweetness. 

Ipswitch, near Agawam, May 12. 

We set out day before yesterday on our journey to Newbury. There wereeight of us, --Rebecca Rawson and her sister, Thomas Broughton, his wife, and their man-servant, my brother Leonard and myself, and young RobertPike, of Newbury, who had been to Boston on business, his father havinggreat fisheries in the river as well as the sea. He is, I can perceive, a great admirer of my cousin, and indeed not without reason; for shehath in mind and person, in her graceful carriage and pleasantdiscourse, and a certain not unpleasing waywardness, as of a merrychild, that which makes her company sought of all. Our route the firstday lay through the woods and along the borders of great marshes andmeadows on the seashore. We came to Linne at night, and stopped at thehouse of a kinsman of Robert Pike's, --a man of some substance and notein that settlement. We were tired and hungry, and the supper of warmIndian bread and sweet milk relished quite as well as any I ever ate inthe Old Country. The next day we went on over a rough road to Wenham, through Salem, which is quite a pleasant town. Here we stopped untilthis morning, when we again mounted our horses, and reached this place, after a smart ride of three hours. The weather in the morning was warmand soft as our summer days at home; and, as we rode through the woods, where the young leaves were fluttering, and the white blossoms of thewind-flowers, and the blue violets and the yellow blooming of thecowslips in the low grounds, were seen on either hand, and the birds allthe time making a great and pleasing melody in the branches, I was gladof heart as a child, and thought if my beloved friends and Cousin Oliverwere only with us, I could never wish to leave so fair a country. 

Just before we reached Agawam, as I was riding a little before mycompanions, I was startled greatly by the sight of an Indian. He wasstanding close to the bridle-path, his half-naked body partly hidden bya clump of white birches, through which he looked out on me with eyeslike two live coals. I cried for my brother and turned my horse, whenRobert Pike came up and bid me be of cheer, for he knew the savage, andthat he was friendly. Whereupon, he bade him come out of the bushes, which he did, after a little parley. He was a tall man, of very fairand comely make, and wore a red woollen blanket with beads and smallclam-shells jingling about it. His skin was swarthy, not black like aMoor or Guinea-man, but of a color not unlike that of tarnished coppercoin. He spake but little, and that in his own tongue, very harsh andstrange-sounding to my ear. Robert Pike tells me that he is Chief ofthe Agawams, once a great nation in these parts, but now quite small andbroken. As we rode on, and from the top of a hill got a fair view ofthe great sea off at the east, Robert Pike bade me notice a little bay, around which I could see four or five small, peaked huts or tents, standing just where the white sands of the beach met the green line ofgrass and bushes of the uplands. 

"There, " said he, "are their summer-houses, which they build near untotheir fishing-grounds and corn-fields. In the winter they go far backinto the wilderness, where game is plenty of all kinds, and there buildtheir wigwams in warm valleys thick with trees, which do serve toshelter them from the winds. "

"Let us look into them, " said I to Cousin Rebecca; "it seems but astone's throw from our way. "

She tried to dissuade me, by calling them a dirty, foul people; butseeing I was not to be put off, she at last consented, and we rode asidedown the hill, the rest following. On our way we had the misfortune toride over their corn-field; at the which, two or three women and as manyboys set up a yell very hideous to hear; whereat Robert Pike came up, and appeased them by giving them some money and a drink of Jamaicaspirits, with which they seemed vastly pleased. I looked into one oftheir huts; it was made of poles like unto a tent, only it was coveredwith the silver-colored bark of the birch, instead of hempen stuff. Abark mat, braided of many exceeding brilliant colors, covered a goodlypart of the space inside; and from the poles we saw fishes hanging, andstrips of dried meat. On a pile of skins in the corner sat a youngwoman with a child a-nursing; they both looked sadly wild and neglected;yet had she withal a pleasant face, and as she bent over her little one, her long, straight, and black hair falling over him, and murmuring a lowand very plaintive melody, I forgot everything save that she was a womanand a mother, and I felt my heart greatly drawn towards her. So, givingmy horse in charge, I ventured in to her, speaking as kindly as I could, and asking to see her child. She understood me, and with a smile heldup her little papoose, as she called him, --who, to say truth, I couldnot call very pretty. He seemed to have a wild, shy look, like theoffspring of an untamed, animal. The woman wore a blanket, gaudilyfringed, and she had a string of beads on her neck. She took down abasket, woven of white and red willows, and pressed me to taste of herbread; which I did, that I might not offend her courtesy by refusing. It was not of ill taste, although so hard one could scarcely bite it, and was made of corn meal unleavened, mixed with a dried berry, whichgives it a sweet flavor. She told me, in her broken way, that the wholetribe now numbered only twenty-five men and women, counting out thenumber very fast with yellow grains of corn, on the corner of herblanket. She was, she said, the youngest woman in the tribe; and herhusband, Peckanaminet, was the Indian we had met in the bridlepath. Igave her a pretty piece of ribbon, and an apron for the child; and shethanked me in her manner, going with us on our return to the path; andwhen I had ridden a little onward, I saw her husband running towards us;so, stopping my horse, I awaited until he came up, when he offered me afine large fish, which he had just caught, in acknowledgment, as Ijudged, of my gift to his wife. Rebecca and Mistress Broughton laughed, and bid him take the thing away; but I would not suffer it, and soRobert Pike took it, and brought it on to our present tarrying place, where truly it hath made a fair supper for us all. These poor heathenpeople seem not so exceeding bad as they have been reported; they belike unto ourselves, only lacking our knowledge and opportunities, which, indeed, are not our own to boast of, but gifts of God, callingfor humble thankfulness, and daily prayer and watchfulness, that they berightly improved. 

Newbery on the Merrimac, May 14, 1678. 

We were hardly on our way yesterday, from Agawam, when a dashing younggallant rode up very fast behind us. He was fairly clad in rich stuffs, and rode a nag of good mettle. He saluted us with much ease andcourtliness, offering especial compliments to Rebecca, to whom he seemedwell known, and who I thought was both glad and surprised at his coming. As I rode near, she said it gave her great joy to bring to each other'sacquaintance, Sir Thomas Hale, a good friend of her father's, and hercousin Margaret, who, like himself, was a new-comer. He replied, thathe should look with favor on any one who was near to her in friendshipor kindred; and, on learning my father's name, said he had seen him athis uncle's, Sir Matthew Hale's, many years ago, and could vouch for himas a worthy man. After some pleasant and merry discoursing with us, heand my brother fell into converse upon the state of affairs in theColony, the late lamentable war with the Narragansett and PequodIndians, together with the growth of heresy and schism in the churches, which latter he did not scruple to charge upon the wicked policy of thehome government in checking the wholesome severity of the laws hereenacted against the schemers and ranters. "I quite agree, " said he, "with Mr. Rawson, that they should have hanged ten where they did one. "Cousin Rebecca here said she was sure her father was now glad the lawswere changed, and that he had often told her that, although thecondemned deserved their punishment, he was not sure that it was thebest way to put down the heresy. If she was ruler, she continued, inher merry way, she would send all the schemers and ranters, and all thesour, crabbed, busybodies in the churches, off to Rhode Island, whereall kinds of folly, in spirituals as well as temporals, were permitted, and one crazy head could not reproach another. 

Falling back a little, and waiting for Robert Pike and Cousin Broughtonto come up, I found them marvelling at the coming of the younggentleman, who it did seem had no special concernment in these parts, other than his acquaintance with Rebecca, and his desire of her company. Robert Pike, as is natural, looks upon him with no great partiality, yethe doth admit him to be wellbred, and of much and varied knowledge, acquired by far travel as well as study. I must say, I like not hisconfident and bold manner and bearing toward my fair cousin; and he hathmore the likeness of a cast-off dangler at the court, than of a modestand seemly country gentleman, of a staid and well-ordered house. Mistress Broughton says he was not at first accredited in Boston, butthat her father, and Mr. Atkinson, and the chief people there now, didhold him to be not only what he professeth, as respecteth hisgentlemanly lineage, but also learned and ingenious, and well-versed inthe Scriptures, and the works of godly writers, both of ancient andmodern time. I noted that Robert was very silent during the rest of ourjourney, and seemed abashed and troubled in the presence of the gaygentleman; for, although a fair and comely youth, and of good family andestate, and accounted solid and judicious beyond his years, he does, nevertheless, much lack the ease and ready wit with which the lattercommendeth himself to my sweet kinswoman. We crossed about noon a broadstream near to the sea, very deep and miry, so that we wetted our hoseand skirts somewhat; and soon, to our great joy, beheld the pleasantcleared fields and dwellings of the settlement, stretching along for agoodly distance; while, beyond all, the great ocean rolled, blue andcold, under an high easterly wind. Passing through a broad path, withwell-tilled fields on each hand, where men were busy planting corn, andyoung maids dropping the seed, we came at length to Uncle Rawson'splantation, looking wellnigh as fair and broad as the lands of HiltonGrange, with a good frame house, and large barns thereon. Turning upthe lane, we were met by the housekeeper, a respectable kinswoman, whoreceived us with great civility. Sir Thomas, although pressed to stay, excused himself for the time, promising to call on the morrow, and rodeon to the ordinary. I was sadly tired with my journey, and was glad tobe shown to a chamber and a comfortable bed. 

I was awakened this morning by the pleasant voice of my cousin, whoshared my bed. She had arisen and thrown open the window lookingtowards the sunrising, and the air came in soft and warm, and laden withthe sweets of flowers and green-growing things. And when I had gottenmyself ready, I sat with her at the window, and I think I may say it waswith a feeling of praise and thanksgiving that mine eyes wandered up anddown over the green meadows, and corn-fields, and orchards of my newhome. Where, thought I, foolish one, be the terrors of the wilderness, which troubled thy daily thoughts and thy nightly dreams! Where be thegloomy shades, and desolate mountains, and the wild beasts, with theirdismal howlings and rages! Here all looked peaceful, and bespokecomfort and contentedness. Even the great woods which climbed up thehills in the distance looked thin and soft, with their faint youngleaves a yellowish-gray, intermingled with pale, silvery shades, indicating, as my cousin saith, the different kinds of trees, some ofwhich, like the willow, do put on their leaves early, and others late, like the oak, with which the whole region aboundeth. A sweet, quietpicture it was, with a warm sun, very bright and clear, shining over it, and the great sea, glistening with the exceeding light, bounding theview of mine eyes, but bearing my thoughts, like swift ships, to theland of my birth, and so uniting, as it were, the New World with theOld. Oh, thought I, the merciful God, who reneweth the earth and makethit glad and brave with greenery and flowers of various hues and smells, and causeth his south winds to blow and his rains to fall, that seed-time may not fail, doth even here, in the ends of his creation, prankand beautify the work of his hands, making the desert places to rejoice, and the wilderness to blossom as the rose. Verily his love is overall, --the Indian heathen as well as the English Christian. And whatabundant cause for thanks have I, that I have been safely landed on ashore so fair and pleasant, and enabled to open mine eyes in peace andlove on so sweet a May morning! And I was minded of a verse which Ilearned from my dear and honored mother when a child, --

 "Teach me, my God, thy love to know, That this new light, which now I see, May both the work and workman show; Then by the sunbeams I will climb to thee. "

When we went below, we found on the window seat which looketh to theroadway, a great bunch of flowers of many kinds, such as I had neverseen in mine own country, very fresh, and glistening with the dew. Now, when Rebecca took them up, her sister said, "Nay, they are not SirThomas's gift, for young Pike hath just left them. " Whereat, as Ithought, she looked vexed, and ill at ease. "They are yours, then, Cousin Margaret, " said she, rallying, "for Robert and you did ride asideall the way from Agawam, and he scarce spake to me the day long. I seeI have lost mine old lover, and my little cousin hath found a new one. I shall write Cousin Oliver all about it. "

"Nay, " said I, "old lovers are better than new; but I fear my sweetcousin hath not so considered It. " She blushed, and looked aside, andfor some space of time I did miss her smile, and she spake little. 

May 20. 

We had scarcely breakfasted, when him they Call Sir Thomas called on us, and with him came also a Mr. Sewall, and the minister of the church, Mr. Richardson, both of whom did cordially welcome home my cousins, and werecivil to my brother and myself. Mr. Richardson and Leonard fell toconversing about the state of the Church; and Sir Thomas discoursed usin his lively way. After some little tarry, Mr. Sewall asked us to gowith him to Deer's Island, a small way up the river, where he and RobertPike had some men splitting staves for the Bermuda market. As the daywas clear and warm, we did readily agree to go, and forthwith set outfor the river, passing through the woods for nearly a half mile. Whenwe came to the Merrimac, we found it a great and broad stream. We tooka boat, and were rowed up the river, enjoying the pleasing view of thegreen banks, and the rocks hanging over the water, covered with brightmosses, and besprinkled with pale, white flowers. Mr. Sewall pointedout to us the different kinds of trees, and their nature and uses, andespecially the sugar-tree, which is very beautiful in its leaf andshape, and from which the people of this country do draw a sap wellnighas sweet as the juice of the Indian cane, making good treacle and sugar. Deer's Island hath rough, rocky shores, very high and steep, and is wellcovered with a great growth of trees, mostly evergreen pines andhemlocks which looked exceeding old. We found a good seat on the mossytrunk of one of these great trees, which had fallen from its extremeage, or from some violent blast of wind, from whence we could see thewater breaking into white foam on the rocks, and hear the melodioussound of the wind in the leaves of the pines, and the singing of birdsever and anon; and lest this should seem too sad and lonely, we couldalso hear the sounds of the axes and beetles of the workmen, cleavingthe timber not far off. It was not long before Robert Pike came up andjoined us. He was in his working dress, and his face and hands weremuch discolored by the smut of the burnt logs, which Rebecca playfullyremarking, he said there were no mirrors in the woods, and that must behis apology; that, besides, it did not become a plain man, like himself, who had to make his own fortune in the world, to try to imitate thosewho had only to open their mouths, to be fed like young robins, withouttrouble or toil. Such might go as brave as they would, if they wouldonly excuse his necessity. I thought he spoke with some bitterness, which, indeed, was not without the excuse, that the manner of our gayyoung gentleman towards him savored much of pride and contemptuousness. My beloved cousin, who hath a good heart, and who, I must think, apartfrom the wealth and family of Sir Thomas, rather inclineth to her oldfriend and neighbor, spake cheerily and kindly to him, and besought meprivately to do somewhat to help her remove his vexation. So we diddiscourse of many things very pleasantly. Mr. Richardson, on hearingRebecca say that the Indians did take the melancholy noises of thepinetrees in the winds to be the voices of the Spirits of the woods, said that they always called to his mind the sounds in the mulberry-trees which the Prophet spake of. Hereupon Rebecca, who hath her memorywell provided with divers readings, both of the poets and other writers, did cite very opportunely some ingenious lines, touching what theheathens do relate of the Sacred Tree of Dodona, the rustling of whoseleaves the negro priestesses did hold to be the language of the gods. And a late writer, she said, had something in one of his pieces, whichmight well be spoken of the aged and dead tree-trunk, upon which we weresitting. And when we did all desire to know their import, she repeatedthem thus:--

 "Sure thou didst flourish once, and many springs, Many bright mornings, much dew, many showers, Passed o'er thy head; many light hearts and wings, Which now are dead, lodged in thy living towers. "

 "And still a new succession sings and flies, Fresh groves grow up, and their green branches shoot Towards the old and still enduring skies, While the low violet thriveth at their root. "

These lines, she said, were written by one Vaughn, a BrecknockshireWelsh Doctor of Medicine, who had printed a little book not many yearsago. Mr. Richardson said the lines were good, but that he did hold thereading of ballads and the conceits of rhymers a waste of time, to saynothing worse. Sir Thomas hereat said that, as far as he could judge, the worthy folk of New England had no great temptation to that sin fromtheir own poets, and did then, in a drolling tone, repeat some verses ofthe 137th Psalm, which he said were the best he had seen in theCambridge Psalm Book:--

 "The rivers of Babylon, There when we did sit down, Yea, even then we mourned when We remembered Sion. 

 Our harp we did hang it amid Upon the willow-tree; Because there they that us away Led to captivity!

 Required of us a song, and thus Asked mirth us waste who laid, Sing us among a Sion's song Unto us as then they said. "

"Nay, Sir Thomas, " quoth Mr. Richardson, "it is not seemly to jest overthe Word of God. The writers of our Book of Psalms in metre heldrightly, that God's altar needs no polishing; and truly they haverendered the words of David into English verse with great fidelity. "

Our young gentleman, not willing to displeasure a man so esteemed as Mr. Richardson, here made an apology for his jesting, and said that, as tothe Cambridge version, it was indeed faithful; and that it was no blameto uninspired men, that they did fall short of the beauties and richnessof the Lord's Psalmist. It being now near noon, we crossed over theriver, to where was a sweet spring of water, very clear and bright, running out upon the green bank. Now, as we stood thirsty, having nocup to drink from, seeing some people near, we called to them, andpresently there came running to us a young and modest woman, with abright pewter tankard, which she filled and gave us. I thought hersweet and beautiful, as Rebecca of old, at her father's fountain. Shewas about leaving, when Mr. Richardson said to her, it was a foul shamefor one like her to give heed to the ranting of the Quakers, and badeher be a good girl, and come to the meeting. 

"Nay, " said she, "I have been there often, to small profit. The spiritwhich thou persecutest testifieth against thee and thy meeting. "

Sir Thomas jestingly asked her if the spirit she spoke of was not suchan one as possessed Mary Magdalen. 

"Or the swine of the Gadarenes?" asked Mr. Richardson. 

I did smile with the others, but was presently sorry for it; for theyoung maid answered not a word to this, but turning to Rebecca, shesaid, "Thy father hath been hard with us, but thou seemest kind andgentle, and I have heard of thy charities to the poor. The Lord keepthee, for thou walkest in slippery places; there is danger, and thouseest it not; thou trustest to the hearing of the ear and the seeing ofthe eye; the Lord alone seeth the deceitfulness and the guile of man;and if thou wilt cry mightily to Him, He can direct thee rightly. "

Her voice and manner were very weighty and solemn. I felt an awe comeupon me, and Rebecca's countenance was troubled. As the maiden left us, the minister, looking after said, "There is a deal of poison under thefair outside of yonder vessel, which I fear is fitted for destruction. "

"Peggy Brewster is indeed under a delusion, " answered Robert Pike, "butI know no harm of her. She is kind to all, even to them who evilentreat her. "

"Robert, Robert!" cried the minister, "I fear me you will follow yourhonored father, who has made himself of ill repute, by favoring thesepeople. "--"The Quaker hath bewitched him with her bright eyes, perhaps, "quoth Sir Thomas. "I would she had laid a spell on an uncivil tongue Iwot of, " answered Robert, angrily. Hereupon, Mr. Sewall proposed thatwe should return, and in making ready and getting to the boat, thematter was dropped. 

NEWBURY, June 1, 1678. 

To-day Sir Thomas took his leave of us, being about to go back toBoston. Cousin Rebecca is, I can see, much taken with his outsidebravery and courtliness, yet she hath confessed to me that her soberjudgment doth greatly incline her towards her old friend and neighbor, Robert Pike. She hath even said that she doubted not she could live aquieter and happier life with him than with such an one as Sir Thomas;and that the words of the Quaker maid, whom we met at the spring on theriver side, had disquieted her not a little, inasmuch as they did seemto confirm her own fears and misgivings. But her fancy is so bedazzledwith the goodly show of her suitor, that I much fear he can have her forthe asking, especially as her father, to my knowledge, doth greatlyfavor him. And, indeed, by reason of her gracious manner, witty andpleasant discoursing, excellent breeding, and dignity, she would do nodiscredit to the choice of one far higher than this young gentleman inestate and rank. 

June 10. 

I went this morning with Rebecca to visit Elnathan Stone, a, youngneighbor, who has been lying sorely ill for a long time. He was aplaymate of my cousin when a boy, and was thought to be of great promiseas he grew up to manhood; but, engaging in the war with the heathen, hewas wounded and taken captive by them, and after much suffering wasbrought back to his home a few months ago. On entering the house wherehe lay, we found his mother, a careworn and sad woman, spinning in theroom by his bedside. A very great and bitter sorrow was depicted on herfeatures; it was the anxious, unreconciled, and restless look of one whodid feel herself tried beyond her patience, and might not be comforted. For, as I learned, she was a poor widow, who had seen her young daughtertomahawked by the Indians; and now her only son, the hope of her oldage, was on his death-bed. She received us with small civility, tellingRebecca that it was all along of the neglect of the men in authoritythat her son had got his death in the wars, inasmuch as it was the wantof suitable diet and clothing, rather than his wounds, which had broughthim into his present condition. Now, as Uncle Rawson is one of theprincipal magistrates, my sweet cousin knew that the poor afflictedcreature meant to reproach him; but her good heart did excuse andforgive the rudeness and distemper of one whom the Lord had sorelychastened. So she spake kindly and lovingly, and gave her sundry nicedainty fruits and comforting cordials, which she had got from Boston forthe sick man. Then, as she came to his bedside, and took his handlovingly in her own, he thanked her for her many kindnesses, and prayedGod to bless her. He must have been a handsome lad in health, for hehad a fair, smooth forehead, shaded with brown, curling hair, and large, blue eyes, very sweet and gentle in their look. He told us that he felthimself growing weaker, and that at times his bodily suffering wasgreat. But through the mercy of his Saviour he had much peace of mind. He was content to leave all things in His hand. For his poor mother'ssake, he said, more than for his own, he would like to get about oncemore; there were many things he would like to do for her, and for allwho had befriended him; but he knew his Heavenly Father could do moreand better for them, and he felt resigned to His will. He had, he said, forgiven all who ever wronged him, and he had now no feeling of anger orunkindness left towards any one, for all seemed kind to him beyond hisdeserts, and like brothers and sisters. He had much pity for the poorsavages even, although he had suffered sorely at their hands; for he didbelieve that they had been often ill-used, and cheated, and otherwiseprovoked to take up arms against us. Hereupon, Goodwife Stone twirledher spindle very spitefully, and said she would as soon pity the Devilas his children. The thought of her mangled little girl, and of herdying son, did seem to overcome her, and she dropped her thread, andcried out with an exceeding bitter cry, --"Oh, the bloody heathen! Oh, my poor murdered Molly! Oh, my son, my son!"--"Nay, mother, " said thesick man, reaching out his hand and taking hold of his mother's, with asweet smile on his pale face, --"what does Christ tell us about lovingour enemies, and doing good to them that do injure us? Let us forgiveour fellow-creatures, for we have all need of God's forgiveness. I usedto feel as mother does, " he said, turning to us; "for I went into thewar with a design to spare neither young nor old of the enemy. 

"But I thank God that even in that dark season my heart relented at thesight of the poor starving women and children, chased from place toplace like partridges. Even the Indian fighters, I found, had sorrowsof their own, and grievous wrongs to avenge; and I do believe, if we hadfrom the first treated them as poor blinded brethren, and striven ashard to give them light and knowledge, as we have to cheat them intrade, and to get away their lands, we should have escaped many bloodywars, and won many precious souls to Christ. "

I inquired of him concerning his captivity. He was wounded, he told me, in a fight with the Sokokis Indians two years before. It was a hotskirmish in the woods; the English and the Indians now running forward, and then falling back, firing at each other from behind the trees. Hehad shot off all his powder, and, being ready to faint by reason of awound in his knee, he was fain to sit down against an oak, from whencehe did behold, with great sorrow and heaviness of heart, his companionsoverpowered by the number of their enemies, fleeing away and leaving himto his fate. The savages soon came to him with dreadful whoopings, brandishing their hatchets and their scalping-knives. He thereuponclosed his eyes, expecting to be knocked in the head, and killedoutright. But just then a noted chief coming up in great haste, badehim be of good cheer, for he was his prisoner, and should not be slain. He proved to be the famous Sagamore Squando, the chief man of theSokokis. 

"And were you kindly treated by this chief?" asked Rebecca. 

"I suffered much in moving with him to the Sebago Lake, owing to mywound, " he replied; "but the chief did all in his power to give mecomfort, and he often shared with me his scant fare, choosing rather toendure hunger himself, than to see his son, as he called me, in want offood. And one night, when I did marvel at this kindness on his part, hetold me that I had once done him a great service; asking me if I was notat Black Point, in a fishing vessel, the summer before? I told him Iwas. He then bade me remember the bad sailors who upset the canoe of asquaw, and wellnigh drowned her little child, and that I had threatenedand beat them for it; and also how I gave the squaw a warm coat to wrapup the poor wet papoose. It was his squaw and child that I hadbefriended; and he told me that be had often tried to speak to me, andmake known his gratitude therefor; and that he came once to the garrisonat Sheepscot, where he saw me; but being fired at, notwithstanding hissigns of peace and friendship, he was obliged to flee into the woods. He said the child died a few days after its evil treatment, and thethought of it made his heart bitter; that he had tried to live peaceablywith the white men, but they had driven him into the war. 

"On one occasion, " said the sick soldier, "as we lay side by side in hishut, on the shore of the Sebago Lake, Squando, about midnight, began topray to his God very earnestly. And on my querying with him about it, he said he was greatly in doubt what to do, and had prayed for some signof the Great Spirit's will concerning him. He then told me that someyears ago, near the place where we then lay, he left his wigwam atnight, being unable to sleep, by reason of great heaviness and distemperof mind. It was a full moon, and as he did walk to and fro, he saw afair, tall man in a long black dress, standing in the light on thelake's shore, who spake to him and called him by name. 

"'Squando, ' he said, and his voice was deep and solemn, like the wind inthe hill pines, 'the God of the white man is the God of the Indian, andHe is angry with his red children. He alone is able to make the corngrow before the frost, and to lead the fish up the rivers in the spring, and to fill the woods with deer and other game, and the ponds andmeadows with beavers. Pray to Him always. Do not hunt on His day, norlet the squaws hoe the corn. Never taste of the strong fire-water, butdrink only from the springs. It, is because the Indians do not worshipHim, that He has brought the white men among them; but if they will praylike the white men, they will grow very great and strong, and theirchildren born in this moon will live to see the English sail back intheir great canoes, and leave the Indians all their fishing-places andhunting-grounds. '

"When the strange man had thus spoken, Squando told me that he wentstraightway up to him, but found where he had stood only the shadow ofa broken tree, which lay in the moon across the white sand of the shore. Then he knew it was a spirit, and he trembled, but was glad. Eversince, he told nee, he had prayed daily to the Great Spirit, had drankno rum, nor hunted on the Sabbath. 

"He said he did for a long time refuse to dig up his hatchet, and makewar upon the whites, but that he could not sit idle in his wigwam, whilehis young men were gone upon their war-path. The spirit of his deadchild did moreover speak to him from the land of souls, and chide himfor not seeking revenge. Once, he told me, he had in a dream seen thechild crying and moaning bitterly, and that when he inquired the causeof its grief, he was told that the Great Spirit was angry with itsfather, and would destroy him and his people unless he did join with theEastern Indians to cut off the English. "

"I remember, " said Rebecca, "of hearing my father speak of thisSquando's kindness to a young maid taken captive some years ago atPresumpscot. "

"I saw her at Cocheco, " said the sick man. "Squando found her in a sadplight, and scarcely alive, took her to his wigwam, where his squaw didlovingly nurse and comfort her; and when she was able to travel, hebrought her to Major Waldron's, asking no ransom for her. He might havebeen made the fast friend of the English at that time, but he scarcelygot civil treatment. "

"My father says that many friendly Indians, by the ill conduct of thetraders, have been made our worst enemies, " said Rebecca. "He thoughtthe bringing in of the Mohawks to help us a sin comparable to that ofthe Jews, who looked for deliverance from the King of Babylon at thehands of the Egyptians. "

"They did nothing but mischief, " said Elnathan Stone; "they killed ourfriends at Newichawannock, Blind Will and his family. "

Rebecca here asked him if he ever heard the verses writ by Mr. Sewallconcerning the killing of Blind Will. And when he told her he had not, and would like to have her repeat them, if she could remember, she didrecite them thus:--

 "Blind Will of Newiehawannock! He never will whoop again, For his wigwam's burnt above him, And his old, gray scalp is ta'en!

 "Blind Will was the friend of white men, On their errands his young men ran, And he got him a coat and breeches, And looked like a Christian man. 

 "Poor Will of Newiehawannock! They slew him unawares, Where he lived among his people, Keeping Sabhath and saying prayers. 

 "Now his fields will know no harvest, And his pipe is clean put out, And his fine, brave coat and breeches The Mohog wears about. 

 "Woe the day our rulers listened To Sir Edmund's wicked plan, Bringing down the cruel Mohogs Who killed the poor old man. 

 "Oh! the Lord He will requite us; For the evil we have done, There'll be many a fair scalp drying In the wind and in the sun!

 "There'll be many a captive sighing, In a bondage long and dire; There'll be blood in many a corn-field, And many a house a-fire. 

 "And the Papist priests the tidings Unto all the tribes will send; They'll point to Newiehawannock, -- 'So the English treat their friend!'

 "Let the Lord's anointed servants Cry aloud against this wrong, Till Sir Edmund take his Mohogs Back again where they belong. 

 "Let the maiden and the mother In the nightly watching share, While the young men guard the block-house, And the old men kneel in prayer. 

 "Poor Will of Newiehawannock! For thy sad and cruel fall, And the bringing in of the Mohogs, May the Lord forgive us all!"

A young woman entered the house just as Rebecca finished the verses. She bore in her hands a pail of milk and a fowl neatly dressed, whichshe gave to Elnathan's mother, and, seeing strangers by his bedside, wasabout to go out, when he called to her and besought her to stay. As shecame up and spoke to him, I knew her to be the maid we had met at thespring. The young man, with tears in his eyes, acknowledged her greatkindness to him, at which she seemed troubled and abashed. A pure, sweet complexion she hath, and a gentle and loving look, full ofinnocence and sincerity. Rebecca seemed greatly disturbed, for she nodoubt thought of the warning words of this maiden, when we were at thespring. After she had left, Goodwife Stone said she was sure she couldnot tell what brought that Quaker girl to her house so much, unless shemeant to inveigle Elnathan; but, for her part, she would rather see himdead than live to bring reproach upon his family and the Church byfollowing after the blasphemers. I ventured to tell her that I did lookupon it as sheer kindness and love on the young woman's part; at whichElnathan seemed pleased, and said he could not doubt it, and that he didbelieve Peggy Brewster to be a good Christian, although sadly led astrayby the Quakers. His mother said that, with all her meek looks, and kindwords, she was full of all manner of pestilent heresies, and did remindher always of Satan in the shape of an angel of light. 

We went away ourselves soon after this, the sick man thanking us for ourvisit, and hoping that he should see us again. "Poor Elnathan, " saidRebecca, as we walked home, "he will never go abroad again; but he is insuch a good and loving frame of mind, that he needs not our pity, as onewho is without hope. "

"He reminds me, " I said, "of the comforting promise of Scripture, 'Thouwilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee. '"

June 30, 1678. 

Mr. Rawson and Sir Thomas Hale came yesterday from Boston. I wasrejoiced to see mine uncle, more especially as he brought for me apackage of letters, and presents and tokens of remembrance from myfriends on the other side of the water. As soon as I got them, I wentup to my chamber, and, as I read of the health of those who are verydear to me, and who did still regard me with unchanged love, I wept inmy great joy, and my heart overflowed in thankfulness. I read the 22dPsalm, and it did seem to express mine own feelings in view of the greatmercies and blessings vouchsafed to me. "My head is anointed with oil;my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all thedays of my life. "

This morning, Sir Thomas and Uncle Rawson rode over to Hampton, wherethey will tarry all night. Last evening, Rebecca had a long talk withher father concerning Sir Thomas, who hath asked her of him. She cameto bed very late, and lay restless and sobbing; whereupon I pressed herto know the cause of her grief, when she told me she had consented tomarry Sir Thomas, but that her heart was sorely troubled and full ofmisgivings. On my querying whether she did really love the younggentleman, she said she sometimes feared she did not; and that when herfancy had made a fair picture of the life of a great lady in England, there did often come a dark cloud over it like the shade of some heavydisappointment or sorrow. "Sir Thomas, " she said, "was a handsome andwitty young man, and had demeaned himself to the satisfaction and goodrepute of her father and the principal people of the Colony; and hismanner towards her had been exceeding delicate and modest, inasmuch ashe had presumed nothing upon his family or estate, but had sought herwith much entreaty and humility, although he did well know that some ofthe most admired and wealthy Young women in Boston did esteem him not alittle, even to the annoying of herself, as one whom he especiallyfavored. "

"This will be heavy news to Robert Pike, " said I; "and I am sorry forhim, for he is indeed a worthy man. "

"That he is, " quoth she; "but he hath never spoken to me of aught beyondthat friendliness which, as neighbors and school companions, we doinnocently cherish for each other. "

"Nay, " said I, "my sweet cousin knows full well that he entertaineth sostrong an affection for her, that there needeth no words to reveal it. "

"Alas!" she answered, "it is too true. When I am with him, I sometimeswish I had never seen Sir Thomas. But my choice is made, and I pray GodI may not have reason to repent of it. "

We said no more, but I fear she slept little, for on waking about thebreak of day, I saw her sitting in her night-dress by the window. Whereupon I entreated her to return to her bed, which she at length did, and folding me in her arms, and sobbing as if her heart would break, shebesought me to pity her, for it was no light thing which she had done, and she scarcely knew her own mind, nor whether to rejoice or weep overit. I strove to comfort her, and, after a time, she did, to my greatjoy, fall into a quiet sleep. 

This afternoon, Robert Pike came in, and had a long talk with CousinBroughton, who told him how matters stood between her sister and SirThomas, at which he was vehemently troubled, and would fain have gone toseek Rebecca at once, and expostulate with her, but was hindered onbeing told that it could only grieve and discomfort her, inasmuch as thething was well settled, and could not be broken off. He said he hadknown and loved her from a child; that for her sake he had toiled hardby day and studied by night; and that in all his travels and voyages, her sweet image had always gone with him. He would bring no accusationagainst her, for she had all along treated him rather as a brother thanas a suitor: to which last condition he had indeed not felt himself atliberty to venture, after her honored father, some months ago, had givenhim to understand that he did design an alliance of his daughter with agentleman of estate and family. For himself, he would bear himselfmanfully, and endure his sorrow with patience and fortitude. His onlyfear was, that his beloved friend had been too hasty in deciding thematter; and that he who was her choice might not be worthy of the greatgift of her affection. Cousin Broughton, who has hitherto greatlyfavored the pretensions of Sir Thomas, told me that she wellnigh changedher mind in view of the manly and noble bearing of Robert Pike; and thatif her sister were to live in this land, she would rather see her thewife of him than of any other man therein. 

July 3. 

Sir Thomas took his leave to-day. Robert Pike hath been here to wishRebecca great joy and happiness in her prospect, which he did in so kindand gentle a manner, that she was fain to turn away her head to hide hertears. When Robert saw this, he turned the discourse, and did endeavorto divert her mind in such sort that the shade of melancholy soon lefther sweet face, and the twain talked together cheerfully as had beentheir wont, and as became their years and conditions. 

July 6. 

Yesterday a strange thing happened in the meeting-house. The ministerhad gone on in his discourse, until the sand in the hour-glass on therails before the deacons had wellnigh run out, and Deacon Dole was aboutturning it, when suddenly I saw the congregation all about me give agreat start, and look back. A young woman, barefooted, and with acoarse canvas frock about her, and her long hair hanging loose like aperiwig, and sprinkled with ashes, came walking up the south aisle. Just as she got near Uncle Rawson's seat she stopped, and turning roundtowards the four corners of the house, cried out: "Woe to thepersecutors! Woe to them who for a pretence make long prayers! Humbleyourselves, for this is the day of the Lord's power, and I am sent as asign among you!" As she looked towards me I knew her to be the Quakermaiden, Margaret Brewster. "Where is the constable?" asked Mr. Richardson. "Let the woman be taken out. " Thereupon the wholecongregation arose, and there was a great uproar, men and women climbingthe seats, and many crying out, some one thing and some another. In themidst of the noise, Mr. Sewall, getting up on a bench, begged the peopleto be quiet, and let the constable lead out the poor deluded creature. Mr. Richardson spake to the same effect, and, the tumult a littlesubsiding, I saw them taking the young woman out of the door; and, asmany followed her, I went out also, with my brother, to see what becameof her. 

We found her in the middle of a great crowd of angry people, whoreproached her for her wickedness in disturbing the worship on theLord's day, calling her all manner of foul names, and threatening herwith the stocks and the whipping-post. The poor creature stood stilland quiet; she was deathly pale, and her wild hair and sackcloth frockgave her a very strange and pitiable look. The constable was about totake her in charge until the morrow, when Robert Pike came forward, andsaid he would answer for her appearance at the court the next day, andbesought the people to let her go quietly to her home, which, after someparley, was agreed to. Robert then went up to her, and taking her hand, asked her to go with him. She looked up, and being greatly touched byhis kindness, began to weep, telling him that it had been a sorrowfulcross to her to do as she had done; but that it had been long upon hermind, and that she did feel a relief now that she had found strength forobedience. He, seeing the people still following, hastened her, away, and we all went back to the meeting-house. In the afternoon, Mr. Richardson gave notice that he should preach, next Lord's day, from the12th and 13th verses of Jude, wherein the ranters and disturbers of thepresent day were very plainly spoken of. This morning she hath been hadbefore the magistrates, who, considering her youth and good behaviorhitherto, did not proceed against her so far as many of the peopledesired. A fine was laid upon her, which both she and her father didprofess they could not in conscience pay, whereupon she was ordered tobe set in the stocks; but this Mr. Sewall, Robert Pike, and my brotherwould by no means allow, but paid the fine themselves, so that she wasset at liberty, whereat the boys and rude women were not a littledisappointed, as they had thought to make sport of her in the stocks. Mr. Pike, I hear, did speak openly in her behalf before the magistrates, saying that it was all along of the cruel persecution of these peoplethat did drive them to such follies and breaches of the peace, Mr. Richardson, who hath heretofore been exceeding hard upon the Quakers, did, moreover, speak somewhat in excuse of her conduct, believing thatshe was instigated by her elders; and he therefore counselled the courtthat she should not be whipped, August 1. 

Captain Sewall, R. Pike, and the minister, Mr. Richardson, at our houseto-day. Captain Sewall, who lives mostly at Boston, says that a smallvessel loaded with negroes, taken on the Madagascar coast, came lastweek into the harbor, and that the owner thereof had offered the negroesfor sale as slaves, and that they had all been sold to magistrates, ministers, and other people of distinction in Boston and thereabouts. He said the negroes were principally women and children, and scarcelyalive, by reason of their long voyage and hard fare. He thought it agreat scandal to the Colony, and a reproach to the Church, that theyshould be openly trafficked, like cattle in the market. Uncle Rawsonsaid it was not so formerly; for he did remember the case of CaptainSmith and one Kesar, who brought negroes from Guinea thirty years ago. The General Court, urged thereto by Sir Richard Saltonstall and many ofthe ministers, passed an order that, for the purpose of "bearing awitness against the heinous sin of man-stealing, justly abhorred of allgood and just men, " the negroes should be taken back to their owncountry at the charge of the Colony; which was soon after done. Moreover, the two men, Smith and Kesar, were duly punished. 

Mr. Richardson said he did make a distinction between the stealing ofmen from a nation at peace with us, and the taking of captives in war. The Scriptures did plainly warrant the holding of such, and especiallyif they be heathen. 

Captain Sewall said he did, for himself, look upon all slave-holding ascontrary to the Gospel and the New Dispensation. The Israelites had aspecial warrant for holding the heathen in servitude; but he had neverheard any one pretend that he had that authority for enslaving Indiansand blackamoors. 

Hereupon Mr. Richardson asked him if he did not regard Deacon Dole as agodly man; and if he had aught to say against him and other pious menwho held slaves. And he cautioned him to be careful, lest he should becounted an accuser of the brethren. 

Here Robert Pike said he would tell of a matter which had fallen underhis notice. "Just after the war was over, " said be, "owing to the lossof my shallop in the Penobscot Bay, I chanced to be in the neighborhoodof him they call the Baron of Castine, who hath a strong castle, withmuch cleared land and great fisheries at Byguyduce. I was preparing tomake a fire and sleep in the woods, with my two men, when a messengercame from the Baron, saying that his master, hearing that strangers werein the neighborhood, had sent him to offer us food and shelter, as thenight was cold and rainy. So without ado we went with him, and wereshown into a comfortable room in a wing of the castle, where we found agreat fire blazing, and a joint of venison with wheaten loaves on thetable. After we had refreshed ourselves, the Baron sent for me, and Iwas led into a large, fair room, where he was, with Modockawando, whowas his father-in-law, and three or four other chiefs of the Indians, together with two of his priests. The Baron, who was a man of goodlyappearance, received me with much courtesy; and when I told him mymisfortune, he said he was glad it was in his power to afford us ashelter. He discoursed about the war, which he said had been a sadthing to the whites as well as the Indians, but that he now hoped thepeace would be lasting. Whereupon, Modockawando, a very grave andserious heathen, who had been sitting silent with his friends, got upand spoke a load speech to me, which I did not understand, but was toldthat he did complain of the whites for holding as slaves sundry Indiancaptives, declaring that it did provoke another war. His own sister'schild, he said, was thus held in captivity. He entreated me to see thegreat Chief of our people (meaning the Governor), and tell him that thecries of the captives were heard by his young men, and that they weretalking of digging up the hatchet which the old men had buried at Casco. I told the old savage that I did not justify the holding of Indiansafter the peace, and would do what I could to have them set at liberty, at which he seemed greatly rejoiced. Since I came back from Castine'scountry, I have urged the giving up of the Indians, and many have beenreleased. Slavery is a hard lot, and many do account it worse thandeath. When in the Barbadoes, I was told that on one plantation, in thespace of five years, a score of slaves had hanged themselves. "

"Mr. Atkinson's Indian, " said Captain Sewall, "whom he bought of aVirginia ship-owner, did, straightway on coming to his house, refusemeat; and although persuasions and whippings were tried to make him eat, he would not so much as take a sip of drink. I saw him a day or twobefore he died, sitting wrapped up in his blanket, and muttering tohimself. It was a sad, sight, and I pray God I may never see the likeagain. From that time I have looked upon the holding of men as slavesas a great wickedness. The Scriptures themselves do testify, that hethat leadeth into captivity shall go into captivity. "

After the company had gone, Rebecca sat silent and thoughtful for atime, and then bade her young serving-girl, whom her father had bought, about a year before, of the master of a Scotch vessel, and who had beensold to pay the cost of her passage, to come to her. She asked her ifshe had aught to complain of in her situation. The poor girl lookedsurprised, but said she had not. "Are you content to live as aservant?" asked Rebecca. "Would you leave me if you could?" She herefell a-weeping, begging her mistress not to speak of her leaving. "Butif I should tell you that you are free to go or stay, as you will, wouldyou be glad or sorry?" queried her mistress. The poor girl was silent. "I do not wish you to leave me, Effie, " said Rebecca, "but I wish you toknow that you are from henceforth free, and that if you serve mehereafter, as I trust you will, it will be in love and good will, andfor suitable wages. " The bondswoman did not at the first comprehend thedesign of her mistress, but, on hearing it explained once more, shedropped down on her knees, and clasping Rebecca, poured forth her thanksafter the manner of her people; whereupon Rebecca, greatly moved, badeher rise, as she had only done what the Scriptures did require, ingiving to her servant that which is just and equal. 

"How easy it is to make others happy, and ourselves also!" she said, turning to me, with the tears shining in her eyes. 

August 8, 1678. 

Elnathan Stone, who died two days ago, was buried this afternoon. Avery solemn funeral, Mr. Richardson preaching a sermon from the 23dpsalm, 4th verse: "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadowof death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me; thy rod and thystaff, they comfort me. " Deacon Dole provided the wine and spirits, andUncle Rawson the beer, and bread, and fish for the entertainment, andothers of the neighbors did, moreover, help the widow to sundry mattersof clothing suitable for the occasion, for she was very poor, and, owingto the long captivity and sickness of her son, she hath been muchstraitened at times. I am told that Margaret Brewster hath been like anangel of mercy unto her, watching often with the sick man, and helpingher in her work, so that the poor woman is now fain to confess that shehath a good and kind heart. A little time before Elnathan died, he didearnestly commend the said Margaret to the kindness of Cousin Rebecca, entreating her to make interest with the magistrates, and others inauthority, in her behalf, that they might be merciful to her in heroutgoings, as he did verily think they did come of a sense of duty, albeit mistaken. Mr. Richardson, who hath been witness to her graciousdemeanor and charity, and who saith she does thereby shame many of hisown people, hath often sought to draw her away from the new doctrines, and to set before her the dangerous nature of her errors; but she neverlacketh answer of some sort, being naturally of good parts, and wellread in the Scriptures. 

August 10. 

I find the summer here greatly unlike that of mine own country. Theheat is great, the sun shining very strong and bright; and for more thana month it hath been exceeding dry, without any considerable fall ofrain, so that the springs fail in many places, and the watercourses aredried up, which doth bring to mind very forcibly the language of Job, concerning the brooks which the drouth consumeth: "What time they waxwarm they vanish; when it is hot they are consumed out of their place. The paths of their way are turned aside; they go to nothing and perish. "The herbage and grass have lost much of the brightness which they didwear in the early summer; moreover, there be fewer flowers to be seen. The fields and roads are dusty, and all things do seem to faint and waxold under the intolerable sun. Great locusts sing sharp in the hedgesand bushes, and grasshoppers fly up in clouds, as it were, when onewalks over the dry grass which they feed upon, and at nightfallmosquitoes are no small torment. Whenever I do look forth at noonday, at which time the air is all aglow, with a certain glimmer and dazzlelike that from an hot furnace, and see the poor fly-bitten cattlewhisking their tails to keep off the venomous insects, or standing inthe water of the low grounds for coolness, and the panting sheep lyingtogether under the shade of trees, I must needs call to mind the summerseason of old England, the cool sea air, the soft-dropping showers, thefields so thick with grasses, and skirted with hedge-rows like greenwalls, the trees and shrubs all clean and moist, and the vines andcreepers hanging over walls and gateways, very plenteous and beautifulto behold. Ah me I often in these days do I think of Hilton Grange, with its great oaks, and cool breezy hills and meadows green the summerlong. I shut mine eyes, and lo! it is all before me like a picture; Isee mine uncle's gray hairs beneath the trees, and my good aunt standethin the doorway, and Cousin Oliver comes up in his field-dress, from thecroft or the mill; I can hear his merry laugh, and the sound of hishorse's hoofs ringing along the gravel-way. Our sweet Chaucer tellethof a mirror in the which he that looked did see all his past life; thatmagical mirror is no fable, for in the memory of love, old things doreturn and show themselves as features do in the glass, with a perfectand most beguiling likeness. 

Last night, Deacon Dole's Indian--One-eyed Tom, a surly fellow--brokeinto his master's shop, where he made himself drunk with rum, and, coming to the house, did greatly fright the womenfolk by his threateningwords and gestures. Now, the Deacon coming home late from the church-meeting, and seeing him in this way, wherreted him smartly with hiscane, whereupon he ran off, and came up the road howling and yellinglike an evil spirit. Uncle Rawson sent his Irish man-servant to seewhat caused the ado; but he straightway came running back, screaming"Murther! murther!" at the top of his voice. So uncle himself went tothe gate, and presently called for a light, which Rebecca and I camewith, inasmuch as the Irishman and Effie dared not go out. We found Tomsitting on the horse-block, the blood running down his face, and muchbruised and swollen. He was very fierce and angry, saying that if helived a month, he would make him a tobacco-pouch of the Deacon's scalp. Rebecca ventured to chide him for his threats, but offered to bind uphis head for him, which she did with her own kerchief. Uncle Rawsonthen bade him go home and get to bed, and in future let alone strongdrink, which had been the cause of his beating. This he would not do, but went off into the woods, muttering as far as one could hear him. 

This morning Deacon Dole came in, and said his servant Tom had behavedbadly, for which he did moderately correct him, and that he didthereupon run away, and he feared he should lose him. He bought him, he said, of Captain Davenport, who brought him from the Narragansettcountry, paying ten pounds and six shillings for him, and he could illbear so great a loss. I ventured to tell him that it was wrong to holdany man, even an Indian or Guinea black, as a slave. My uncle, who sawthat my plainness was not well taken, bade me not meddle with mattersbeyond my depth; and Deacon Dole, looking very surly at me, said I was aforward one; that he had noted that I did wear a light and idle look inthe meeting-house; and, pointing with his cane to my hair, he said I didrender myself liable to presentment by the Grand Jury for a breach ofthe statute of the General Court, made the year before, against "theimmodest laying out of the hair, " &c. He then went on to say that hehad lived to see strange times, when such as I did venture to opposethemselves to sober and grave people, and to despise authority, andencourage rebellion and disorder; and bade me take heed lest all suchbe numbered with the cursed children which the Apostle did rebuke: "Who, as natural brute beasts, speak evil of things they understand not, andshall utterly perish in their corruption. " My dear Cousin Rebecca hereput in a word in my behalf, and told the Deacon that Tom's misbehaviordid all grow out of the keeping of strong liquors for sale, and that hewas wrong to beat him so cruelly, seeing that he did himself place thetemptation before him. Thereupon the Deacon rose up angrily, biddinguncle look well to his forward household. "Nay, girls, " quoth mineuncle, after his neighbor had left the house, "you have angered the goodman sorely. "--"Never heed, " said Rebecca, laughing and clapping herhands, "be hath got something to think of more profitable, I trow, thanCousin Margaret's hair or looks in meeting. He has been tything of mintand anise and cummin long enough, and 't is high time for him to lookafter the weightier matters of the law. "

The selling of beer and strong liquors, Mr. Ewall says, hath muchincreased since the troubles of the Colony and the great Indian war. The General Court do take some care to grant licenses only to discreetpersons; but much liquor is sold without warrant. For mine own part, Ithink old Chaucer hath it right in his Pardoner's Tale:--

 "A likerous thing is wine, and drunkenness Is full of striving and of wretchedness. O drunken man! disfigured is thy face, Sour is thy breath, foul art then to embrace; Thy tongue is lost, and all thine honest care, For drunkenness is very sepulture Of man's wit and his discretion. "

AGAMENTICUS, August 18. 

The weather being clear and the heat great, last week uncle and aunt, with Rebecca and myself, and also Leonard and Sir Thomas, thought it afitting time to make a little journey by water to the Isles of Shoals, and the Agamenticus, where dwelleth my Uncle Smith, who hath stronglypressed me to visit him. One Caleb Powell, a seafaring man, having agood new boat, with a small cabin, did undertake to convey us. He is adrolling odd fellow, who hath been in all parts of the world, and hathseen and read much, and, having a rare memory, is not ill company, although uncle saith one must make no small allowance for his desire ofmaking his hearers marvel at his stories and conceits. We sailed with agood westerly wind down the river, passing by the great salt marshes, which stretch a long way by the sea, and in which the town's people benow very busy in mowing and gathering the grass for winter's use. Leaving on our right hand Plum Island (so called on account of the rareplums which do grow upon it), we struck into the open sea, and soon camein sight of the Islands of Shoals. There be seven of them in all, lyingoff the town of Hampton on the mainland, about a league. We landed onthat called the Star, and were hospitably entertained through the dayand night by Mr. Abbott, an old inhabitant of the islands, and largelyemployed in fisheries and trade, and with whom uncle had some business. In the afternoon Mr. Abbott's son rowed us about among the islands, andshowed us the manner of curing the dun-fish, for which the place isfamed. They split the fishes, and lay them on the rocks in the sun, using little salt, but turning them often. There is a court-house onthe biggest island, and a famous school, to which many of the planterson the main-land do send their children. We noted a great split in therocks, where, when the Indians came to the islands many years ago, andkilled some and took others captive, one Betty Moody did hide herself, and which is hence called Betty Moody's Hole. Also, the pile of rocksset up by the noted Captain John Smith, when he did take possession ofthe Isles in the year 1614. We saw our old acquaintance Peckanaminetand his wife, in a little birch canoe, fishing a short way off. Mr. Abbott says he well recollects the time when the Agawams were wellnighcut off by the Tarratine Indians; for that early one morning, hearing aloud yelling and whooping, he went out on the point of the rocks, andsaw a great fleet of canoes filled with Indians, going back from Agawam, and the noise they made he took to be their rejoicing over theirvictory. 

In the evening a cold easterly wind began to blow, and it brought infrom the ocean a damp fog, so that we were glad to get within doors. Sir Thomas entertained us by his lively account of things in Boston, andof a journey he had made to the Providence plantations. He then askedus if it was true, as he had learned from Mr. Mather, of Boston, thatthere was an house in Newbury dolefully beset by Satan's imps, and thatthe family could get no sleep because of the doings of evil spirits. Uncle Rawson said he did hear something of it, and that Mr. Richardsonhad been sent for to pray against the mischief. Yet as he did countGoody Morse a poor silly woman, he should give small heed to her story;but here was her near neighbor, Caleb Powell, who could doubtless tellmore concerning it. Whereupon, Caleb said it was indeed true that therewas a very great disturbance in Goodman Morse's house; doors opening andshutting, household stuff whisked out of the room, and then falling downthe chimney, and divers other strange things, many of which he hadhimself seen. Yet he did believe it might be accounted for in a naturalway, especially as the old couple had a wicked, graceless boy livingwith them, who might be able to do the tricks by his great subtlety andcunning. Sir Thomas said it might be the boy; but that Mr. Josselin, who had travelled much hereabout, had told him that the Indians didpractise witchcraft, and that, now they were beaten in war, he fearedthey would betake themselves to it, and so do by their devilish wisdomwhat they could not do by force; and verily this did look much like thebeginning of their enchantments. "That the Devil helpeth the heathen inthis matter, I do myself know for a certainty, " said Caleb Powell; "forwhen I was at Port Royal, many years ago, I did see with mine eyes theburning of an old negro wizard, who had done to death many of thewhites, as well as his own people, by a charm which he brought with himfrom the Guinea, country. " Mr. Hull, the minister of the place, who wasa lodger in the house, said he had heard one Foxwell, a reputableplanter at Saco, lately deceased, tell of a strange affair that didhappen to himself, in a voyage to the eastward. Being in a smallshallop, and overtaken by the night, he lay at anchor a little way offthe shore, fearing to land on account of the Indians. Now, it didchance that they were waked about midnight by a loud voice from theland, crying out, Foxwell, come ashore! three times over; whereupon, looking to see from whence the voice did come, they beheld a greatcircle of fire on the beach, and men and women dancing about it in aring. Presently they vanished, and the fire was quenched also. In themorning he landed, but found no Indians nor English, only brands' endscast up by the waves; and he did believe, unto the day of his death, that it was a piece of Indian sorcery. "There be strange stories toldof Passaconaway, the chief of the River Indians, " he continued. "I haveheard one say who saw it, that once, at the Patucket Falls, this chief, boasting of his skill in magic, picked up a dry skin of a snake, whichhad been cast off, as is the wont of the reptile, and making someviolent motions of his body, and calling upon his Familiar, or Demon, hedid presently cast it down upon the rocks, and it became a great blackserpent, which mine informant saw crawl off into some bushes, verynimble. This Passaconaway was accounted by his tribe to be a verycunning conjurer, and they do believe that he could brew storms, makewater burn, and cause green leaves to grow on trees in the winter; and, in brief, it may be said of him, that he was not a whit behind themagicians of Egypt in the time of Moses. "

"There be women in the cold regions about Norway, " said Caleb Powell, "as I have heard the sailors relate, who do raise storms and sink boatsat their will. "

"It may well be, " quoth Mr. Hull, "since Satan is spoken of as theprince and power of the air. "

"The profane writers of old time do make mention of such sorceries, "said Uncle Rawson. "It is long since I have read any of then; butVirgil and Apulius do, if I mistake not, speak of this power over theelements. "

"Do you not remember, father, " said Rebecca, "some verses of Tibullus, in which he speaketh of a certain enchantress? Some one hath renderedthem thus:--

 "Her with charms drawing stars from heaven, I, And turning the course of rivers, did espy. She parts the earth, and ghosts from sepulchres Draws up, and fetcheth bones away from fires, And at her pleasure scatters clouds in the air, And makes it snow in summer hot and fair. "

Here Sir Thomas laughingly told Rebecca, that he did put more faith inwhat these old writers did tell of the magic arts of the sweet-singingsirens, and of Circe and her enchantments, and of the Illyrian maidens, so wonderful in their beauty, who did kill with their looks such as theywere angry with. 

"It was, perhaps, for some such reason, " said Rebecca, "that, as Mr. Abbott tells me; the General Court many years ago did forbid women tolive on these islands. "

"Pray, how was that?" asked Sir Thomas. 

"You must know, " answered our host, "that in the early settlement ofthe Shoals, vessels coming for fish upon this coast did here make theirharbor, bringing hither many rude sailors of different nations; and theCourt judged that it was not a fitting place for women, and so did bylaw forbid their dwelling on the islands belonging to theMassachusetts. "

He then asked his wife to get the order of the Court concerning her stayon the islands, remarking that he did bring her over from the Maine indespite of the law. So his wife fetched it, and Uncle Rawson read it, it being to this effect, --"That a petition having been sent to theCourt, praying that the law might be put in force in respect to JohnAbbott his wife, the Court do judge it meet, if no further complaintcome against her, that she enjoy the company of her husband. " Whereatwe all laughed heartily. 

Next morning, the fog breaking away early, we set sail for Agamenticus, running along the coast and off the mouth of the Piscataqua River, passing near where my lamented Uncle Edward dwelt, whose fame as aworthy gentleman and magistrate is still living. We had MountAgamenticus before us all day, --a fair stately hill, rising up as itwere from the water. Towards night a smart shower came on, withthunderings and lightnings such as I did never see or hear before; andthe wind blowing and a great rain driving upon us, we were for a time inmuch peril; but, through God's mercy, it suddenly cleared up, and wewent into the Agamenticus River with a bright sun. Before dark we gotto the house of my honored uncle, where, he not being at home, his wifeand daughters did receive us kindly. 

September 10. 

I do find myself truly comfortable at this place. My two cousins, Pollyand Thankful, are both young, unmarried women, very kind and pleasant, and, since my Newbury friends left, I have been learning of them manythings pertaining to housekeeping, albeit I am still but a poor scholar. Uncle is Marshall of the Province, which takes him much from home; andaunt, who is a sickly woman, keeps much in her chamber; so that theaffairs of the household and of the plantation do mainly rest upon theyoung women. If ever I get back to Hilton Grange again, I shall havetales to tell of my baking and brewing, of my pumpkin-pies, and breadmade of the flour of the Indian corn; yea, more, of gathering of thewild fruit in the woods, and cranberries in the meadows, milking thecows, and looking after the pigs and barnyard fowls. Then, too, we havehad many pleasant little journeys by water and on horseback, young Mr, Jordan, of Spurwiuk, who hath asked Polly in marriage, going with us. A right comely youth he is, but a great Churchman, as might be expected, his father being the minister of the Black Point people, and very bittertowards the Massachusetts and its clergy and government. My uncle, whomeddles little with Church' matters, thinks him a hopeful young man, andnot an ill suitor for his daughter. He hath been in England for hislearning, and is accounted a scholar; but, although intended for theChurch service, he inclineth more to the life of a planter, and takeththe charge of his father's plantation at Spurwink. Polly is notbeautiful and graceful like Rebecca Rawson, but she hath freshness ofyouth and health, and a certain good-heartedness of look and voice, anda sweetness of temper which do commend her in the eyes of all. Thankfulis older by some years, and, if not as cheerful and merry as her sister, it needs not be marvelled at, since one whom she loved was killed in theNarragansett country two years ago. O these bloody wars. There be fewin these Eastern Provinces who have not been called to mourn the loss ofsome near and dear friend, so that of a truth the land mourns. 

September 18. 

Meeting much disturbed yesterday, --a ranting Quaker coming in andsitting with his hat on in sermon time, humming and groaning, androcking his body to and fro like one possessed. After a time he got up, and pronounced a great woe upon the priests, calling them many hardnames, and declaring that the whole land stank with their hypocrisy. Uncle spake sharply to him, and bid him hold his peace, but he onlycried out the louder. Some young men then took hold of him, and carriedhim out. They brought him along close to my seat, he hanging like a bagof meal, with his eyes shut, as ill-favored a body as I ever beheld. The magistrates had him smartly whipped this morning, and sent out ofthe jurisdiction. I was told he was no true Quaker; for, although anoisy, brawling hanger-on at their meetings, he is not in fellowshipwith the more sober and discreet of that people. 

Rebecca writes me that the witchcraft in William Morse's house is muchtalked of; and that Caleb Powell hath been complained of as the wizard. Mr. Jordan the elder says he does in no wise marvel at the Devil's powerin the Massachusetts, since at his instigation the rulers and ministersof the Colony have set themselves, against the true and Gospel order ofthe Church, and do slander and persecute all who will not worship attheir conventicles. 

A Mr. Van Valken, a young gentleman of Dutch descent, and the agent ofMr. Edmund Andross, of the Duke of York's Territory, is now in thisplace, being entertained by Mr. Godfrey, the late Deputy-Governor. Hebrought a letter for me from Aunt Rawson, whom he met in Boston. He isa learned, serious man, hath travelled a good deal, and hath an air ofhigh breeding. The minister here thinks him a Papist, and a Jesuit, especially as he hath not called upon him, nor been to the meeting. Hegoes soon to Pemaquid, to take charge of that fort and trading station, which have greatly suffered by the war. 

September 30. 

Yesterday, Cousin Polly and myself, with young Mr. Jordan, went up tothe top of the mountain, which is some miles from the harbor. It is nothard to climb in respect to steepness, but it is so tangled with bushesand vines, that one can scarce break through them. The open places wereyellow with golden-rods, and the pale asters were plenty in the shade, and by the side of the brooks, that with pleasing noise did leap downthe hill. When we got upon the top, which is bare and rocky, we had afair view of the coast, with its many windings and its islands, from theCape Ann, near Boston, to the Cape Elizabeth, near Casco, the Piscataquaand Agamenticus rivers; and away in the northwest we could see the peaksof mountains looking like summer clouds or banks of gray fog. Thesemountains lie many leagues off in the wilderness, and are said to beexceeding lofty. 

But I must needs speak of the color of the woods, which did greatlyamaze me, as unlike anything I had ever seen in old England. As far asmine eyes could look, the mighty wilderness, under the bright westerlysun, and stirred by a gentle wind, did seem like a garden in its seasonof flowering; green, dark, and light, orange, and pale yellow, andcrimson leaves, mingling and interweaving their various hues, in amanner truly wonderful to behold. It is owing, I am told, to the suddenfrosts, which in this climate do smite the vegetation in its full lifeand greenness, so that in the space of a few days the colors of theleaves are marvellously changed and brightened. These colors did remindme of the stains of the windows of old churches, and of rich tapestry. The maples were all aflame with crimson, the walnuts were orange, thehemlocks and cedars were wellnigh black; while the slender birches, withtheir pale yellow leaves, seemed painted upon them as pictures are laidupon a dark ground. I gazed until mine eyes grew weary, and a sense ofthe wonderful beauty of the visible creation, and of God's greatgoodness to the children of men therein, did rest upon me, and I said inmine heart, with one of old: "O Lord! how manifold are thy works inwisdom hast thou made them all, and the earth is full of thy riches. "

October 6. 

Walked out to the iron mines, a great hole digged in the rocks, manyyears ago, for the finding of iron. Aunt, who was then just settled inhousekeeping, told me many wonderful stories of the man who caused it tobe digged, a famous doctor of physic, and, as it seems, a great wizardalso. He bought a patent of land on the south side of the Saco River, four miles by the sea, and eight miles up into the main-land of Mr. Vines, the first owner thereof; and being curious in the seeking andworking of metals, did promise himself great riches in this new country;but his labors came to nothing, although it was said that Satan helpedhim, in the shape of a little blackamoor man-servant, who was hisconstant familiar. My aunt says she did often see him, wandering aboutamong the hills and woods, and along the banks of streams of water, searching for precious ores and stones. He had even been as far as thegreat mountains, beyond Pigwackett, climbing to the top thereof, wherethe snows lie wellnigh all the year, his way thither lying throughdoleful swamps and lonesome woods. He was a great friend of theIndians, who held him to be a more famous conjurer than their ownpowahs; and, indeed, he was learned in all curious and occult arts, having studied at the great College of Padua, and travelled in all partsof the old countries. He sometimes stopped in his travels at my uncle'shouse, the little blackamoor sleeping in the barn, for my aunt fearedhim, as he was reputed to be a wicked imp. Now it so chanced that onone occasion my uncle had lost a cow, and had searched the woods manydays for her to no purpose, when, this noted doctor coming in, hebesought him to find her out by his skill and learning; but he didstraightway deny his power to do so, saying he was but a poor scholar, and lover of science, and had no greater skill in occult matters thanany one might attain to by patient study of natural things. But as mineuncle would in no wise be so put off, and still pressing him to his art, he took a bit of coal, and began to make marks on the floor, in a verycareless way. 

Then he made a black dot in the midst, and bade my uncle take heed thathis cow was lying dead in that spot; and my uncle looking at it, said heCould find her, for he now knew where she was, inasmuch as the doctorhad made a fair map of the country round about for many miles. So heset off, and found the cow lying at the foot of a great tree, closebeside a brook, she being quite dead, which thing did show that he was amagician of no Mean sort. 

My aunt further said, that in those days there was great talk of minesof gold and precious stones, and many people spent all their substancein wandering about over the wilderness country seeking a fortune in thisway. There was one old man, who, she remembered, did roam about seekingfor hidden treasures, until he lost his wits, and might be seen fillinga bag with bright stones and shining sand, muttering and laughing tohimself. He was at last missed for some little time, when he was foundlying dead in the woods, still holding fast in his hands his bag ofpebbles. 

On my querying whether any did find treasures hereabout, my auntlaughed, and said she never heard of but one man who did so, and thatwas old Peter Preble of Saco, who, growing rich faster than hisneighbors, was thought to owe his fortune to the finding of a gold orsilver mine. When he was asked about it, he did by no means deny it, but confessed he had found treasures in the sea as well as on the land;and, pointing to his loaded fish-flakes and his great cornfields, said, "Here are my mines. " So that afterwards, when any one prospered greatlyin his estate, it was said of him by his neighbors, "He has been workingPeter Preble's mine. "

October 8. 

Mr. Van Valken, the Dutchman, had before Mr. Rishworth, one of theCommissioners of the Province, charged with being a Papist and a Jesuit. He bore himself, I am told, haughtily enough, denying the right to callhim in question, and threatening the interference of his friend andruler, Sir Edmund, on account of the wrong done him. 

My uncle and others did testify that he was a civil and courteousgentleman, not intermeddling with matters of a religious nature; andthat they did regard it as a foul shame to the town that he should bemolested in this wise. But the minister put them to silence, bytestifying that he (Van Valken) had given away sundry Papist books; and, one of them being handed to the Court, it proved to be a Latin Treatise, by a famous Papist, intituled, "The Imitation of Christ. " Hereupon, Mr. Godfrey asked if there was aught evil in the book. The minister said itwas written by a monk, and was full of heresy, favoring both the Quakersand the Papists; but Mr. Godfrey told him it had been rendered into theEnglish tongue, and printed some years before in the Massachusetts Bay;and asked him if he did accuse such men as Mr. Cotton and Mr. Wilson, and the pious ministers of their day, of heresy. "Nay, " quoth theminister, "they did see the heresy of the book, and, on their condemningit, the General Court did forbid its sale. " Mr. Rishworth hereupon saidhe did judge the book to be pernicious, and bade the constable burn itin the street, which he did. Mr. Van Valken, after being gravelyadmonished, was set free; and he now saith he is no Papist, but that hewould not have said that much to the Court to save his life, inasmuch ashe did deny its right of arraigning him. Mr. Godfrey says the treatmentwhereof he complains is but a sample of what the people hereaway are tolook for from the Massachusetts jurisdiction. Mr. Jordan, the younger, says his father hath a copy of the condemned book, of the Bostonprinting; and I being curious to see it, he offers to get it for me. 

Like unto Newbury, this is an old town for so new a country. It wasmade a city in 1642, and took the name of Gorgeana, after that of thelord proprietor, Sir Ferdinando Gorges. The government buildings arespacious, but now falling into decay somewhat. There be a few stonehouses, but the major part are framed, or laid up with square logs. Thelook of the land a little out of the town is rude and unpleasing, beingmuch covered with stones and stumps; yet the soil is said to be strong, and the pear and apple do flourish well here; also they raise rye, oats, and barley, and the Indian corn, and abundance of turnips, as well aspumpkins, squashes, and melons. The war with the Indians, and thetroubles and changes of government, have pressed heavily upon this andother towns of the Maine, so that I am told that there be now fewerwealthy planters here than there were twenty years ago, and littleincrease of sheep or horned cattle. The people do seem to me less soberand grave, in their carriage and conversation, than they of theMassachusetts, --hunting, fishing, and fowling more, and working on theland less. Nor do they keep the Lord's Day so strict; many of the youngpeople going abroad, both riding and walking, visiting each other, anddiverting themselves, especially after the meetings are over. 

October 9. 

Goodwife Nowell, an ancient gossip of mine aunt's, looking in thismorning, and talking of the trial of the Dutchman, Van Valken, spakeof the coming into these parts many years ago of one Sir ChristopherGardiner, who was thought to be a Papist. He sought lodgings at herhouse for one whom he called his cousin, a fair young woman, togetherwith her serving girl, who did attend upon her. She tarried about amonth, seeing no one, and going out only towards the evening, accompanied by her servant. She spake little, but did seem melancholyand exceeding mournful, often crying very bitterly. Sir Christophercame only once to see her, and Good wife Nowell saith she well remembersseeing her take leave of him on the roadside, and come back weeping andsobbing dolefully; and that a little time after, bearing that he hadgotten into trouble in Boston as a Papist and man of loose behavior, shesuddenly took her departure in a vessel sailing for the Massachusetts, leaving to her, in pay for house-room and diet, a few coins, a goldcross, and some silk stuffs and kerchiefs. The cross being such as thePapists do worship, and therefore unlawful, her husband did beat it intoa solid wedge privately, and kept it from the knowledge of the ministerand the magistrates. But as the poor man never prospered after, butlost his cattle and grain, and two of their children dying of measlesthe next year, and he himself being sickly, and near his end, he spaketo her of he golden cross, saying that he did believe it was a great sinto keep it, as he had done, and that it had wrought evil upon him, evenas the wedge of gold, and the shekels, and Babylonish garment did uponAchan, who was stoned, with all his house, in the valley of Achor; andthe minister coming in, and being advised concerning it, he judged thatalthough it might be a sin to keep it hidden from a love of riches, itmight, nevertheless, be safely used to support Gospel preaching andordinances, and so did himself take it away. The goodwife says, thatnotwithstanding her husband died soon after, yet herself and householddid from thenceforth begin to amend their estate and condition. 

Seeing me curious concerning this Sir Christopher and his cousin, Goodwife Nowell said there was a little parcel of papers which she foundin her room after the young woman went away, and she thought they mightyet be in some part of her house, though she had not seen them for ascore of years. Thereupon, I begged of her to look for them, which shepromised to do. 

October 14. 

A strange and wonderful providence! Last night there was a greatcompany of the neighbors at my uncle's, to help him in the husking andstripping of the corn, as is the custom in these parts. The barn-floorwas about half-filled with the corn in its dry leaves; the companysitting down on blocks and stools before it, plucking off the leaves, and throwing the yellow ears into baskets. A pleasant and merry eveningwe had; and when the corn was nigh stripped, I went into the house withCousin Thankful, to look to the supper and the laying of the tables, when we heard a loud noise in the barn, and one of the girls camerunning in, crying out, "O Thankful! Thankful! John Gibbins hasappeared to us! His spirit is in the barn!" The plates dropt from mycousin's hand, and, with a faint cry, she fell back against the wall fora little space; when, hearing a man's voice without, speaking her name, she ran to the door, with the look of one beside herself; while I, trembling to see her in such a plight, followed her. There was a clearmoon, and a tall man stood in the light close to the door. 

"John, " said my cousin, in a quick, choking voice, "is it You?"

"Why, Thankful, don't you know me? I'm alive; but the folks in the barnwill have it that I 'm a ghost, " said the man, springing towards her. 

With a great cry of joy and wonder, my cousin caught hold of him: "OJohn, you are alive!"

Then she swooned quite away, and we had a deal to do to bring her tolife again. By this time, the house was full of people, and among therest came John's old mother and his sisters, and we all did weep andlaugh at the same time. As soon as we got a little quieted, John toldus that he had indeed been grievously stunned by the blow of a tomahawk, and been left for dead by his comrades, but that after a time he didcome to his senses, and was able to walk; but, falling into the hands ofthe Indians, he was carried off to the French Canadas, where, by reasonof his great sufferings on the way, he fell sick, and lay for a longtime at the point of death. That when he did get about again, thesavage who lodged him, and who had taken him as a son, in the place ofhis own, slain by the Mohawks, would not let him go home, although hedid confess that the war was at an end. His Indian father, he said, whowas feeble and old, died not long ago, and he had made his way home bythe way of Crown Point and Albany. Supper being ready, we all sat down, and the minister, who had been sent for, offered thanks for themarvellous preserving and restoring of the friend who was lost and nowwas found, as also for the blessings of peace, by reason of which everyman could now sit under his own vine and fig-tree, with none to molestor make him afraid, and for the abundance of the harvest, and thetreasures of the seas, and the spoil of the woods, so that our landmight take up the song of the Psalmist: "The Lord doth build upJerusalem; he gathereth the outcasts of Israel; he healeth the broken inheart. Praise thy God, O Zion I For he strengtheneth the bars of thygates, he maketh peace in thy borders, and filleth thee with the finestof wheat. " Oh! a sweet supper we had, albeit little was eaten, for wewere filled fall of joy, and needed not other food. When the companyhad gone, my dear cousin and her betrothed went a little apart, andtalked of all that had happened unto them during their long separation. I left them sitting lovingly together in the light of the moon, and ameasure of their unspeakable happiness did go with me to my pillow. 

This morning, Thankful came to my bedside to pour out her heart to me. The poor girl is like a new creature. The shade of her heavy sorrow, which did formerly rest upon her countenance, hath passed off like amorning cloud, and her eye hath the light of a deep and quiet joy. 

"I now know, " said she, "what David meant when he said, 'We are likethem that dream; our mouth is filled with laughter, and our tongue withsinging; the Lord hath done great things for us, whereof we are glad!'"

October 18. 

A cloudy wet day. Goody Nowell brought me this morning a little parcelof papers, which she found in the corner of a closet. They are muchstained and smoked, and the mice have eaten them sadly, so that I canmake little of them. They seem to be letters, and some fragments ofwhat did take place in the life of a young woman of quality from theNorth of England. I find frequent mention made of Cousin Christopher, who is also spoken of as a soldier in the wars with the Turks, and as aKnight of Jerusalem. Poorly as I can make out the meaning of thesefragments, I have read enough to make my heart sad, for I gather fromthem that the young woman was in early life betrothed to her cousin, andthat afterwards, owing, as I judge, to the authority of her parents, shedid part with him, he going abroad, and entering into the wars, in thebelief that she was to wed another. But it seemed that the heart of theyoung woman did so plead for her cousin, that she could not be broughtto marry as her family willed her to do; and, after a lapse of years, she, by chance hearing that Sir Christopher had gone to the New England, where he was acting as an agent of his kinsman, Sir Ferdinando Gorges, in respect to the Maine Province, did privately leave her home, and takepassage in a Boston bound ship. How she did make herself known to SirChristopher, I find no mention made; but, he now being a Knight of theOrder of St. John of Jerusalem, and vowed to forego marriage, as is therule of that Order, and being, moreover, as was thought, a priest orJesuit, her great love and constancy could meet with but a sorrowfulreturn on his part. It does appear, however, that he journeyed toMontreal, to take counsel of some of the great Papist priests there, touching the obtaining of a dispensation from the Head of the Church, so that he might marry the young woman; but, getting no encouragementtherein, he went to Boston to find a passage for her to England again. He was there complained of as a Papist; and the coming over of hiscousin being moreover known, a great and cruel scandal did arise fromit, and he was looked upon as a man of evil life, though I find nothingto warrant such a notion, but much to the contrary thereof. What becameof him and the young woman, his cousin, in the end, I do not learn. 

One small parcel did affect me even unto tears. It was a papercontaining some dry, withered leaves of roses, with these words writtenon it "To Anna, from her loving cousin, Christopher Gardiner, being thefirst rose that hath blossomed this season in the College garden. St. Omer's, June, 1630. " I could but think how many tears had been shedover this little token, and how often, through long, weary years, it didcall to mind the sweet joy of early love, of that fairest blossom of thespring of life of which it was an emblem, alike in its beauty and itsspeedy withering. 

There be moreover among the papers sundry verses, which do seem to havebeen made by Sir Christopher; they are in the Latin tongue, andinscribed to his cousin, bearing date many years before the twain werein this country, and when he was yet a scholar at the Jesuits' Collegeof St. Omer's, in France. I find nothing of a later time, save theverses which I herewith copy, over which there are, in a woman'shandwriting, these words:

"VERSES

"Writ by Sir Christopher when a prisoner among the Turks in Moldavia, and expecting death at their hands. 

1. "Ere down the blue Carpathian hillsThe sun shall fall again, Farewell this life and all its ills, Farewell to cell and chain

2. "These prison shades are dark and cold, But darker far than theyThe shadow of a sorrow oldIs on mine heart alway. 

3. "For since the day when Warkworth woodClosed o'er my steed and I, --An alien from my name and blood, --A weed cast out to die;

4. "When, looking back, in sunset lightI saw her turret gleam, And from its window, far and white, Her sign of farewell stream;

5. "Like one who from some desert shoreDoes home's green isles descry, And, vainly longing, gazes o'erThe waste of wave and sky, 6. "So, from the desert of my fate, Gaze I across the past;And still upon life's dial-plateThe shade is backward cast

7. "I've wandered wide from shore to shore, I've knelt at many a shrine, And bowed me to the rocky floorWhere Bethlehem's tapers shine;

8. "And by the Holy SepulchreI've pledged my knightly sword, To Christ his blessed Church, and herThe Mother of our Lord!

9. "Oh, vain the vow, and vain the strifeHow vain do all things seem!My soul is in the past, and lifeTo-day is but a dream. 

10. "In vain the penance strange and long, And hard for flesh to bear;The prayer, the fasting, and the thong, And sackcloth shirt of hair:

11. "The eyes of memory will not sleep, Its ears are open still, And vigils with the past they keepAgainst or with my will. 

12. "And still the loves and hopes of oldDo evermore uprise;I see the flow of locks of gold, The shine of loving eyes. 

13. "Ah me! upon another's breastThose golden locks recline;I see upon another restThe glance that once was mine!

14. "'O faithless priest! O perjured knight!'I hear the master cry, 'Shut out the vision from thy sight, Let earth and nature die. '

15. "'The Church of God is now my spouse, And thou the bridegroom art;Then let the burden of thy vowsKeep down thy human heart. '

16. "In vain!--This heart its grief must know, Till life itself hath ceased, And falls beneath the self-same blowThe lover and the priest!

17. "O pitying Mother! souls of light, And saints and martyrs old, Pray for a weak and sinful knight, A suffering man uphold. 

18. "Then let the Paynim work his will, Let death unbind my chain, Ere down yon blue Carpathian hillThe sunset falls again!"

My heart is heavy with the thought of these unfortunates. Where be theynow? Did the knight forego his false worship and his vows, and so marryhis beloved Anna? Or did they part forever, --she going back to herkinsfolk, and he to his companions of Malta? Did he perish at the handsof the infidels, and does the maiden sleep in the family tomb, under herfather's oaks? Alas! who can tell? I must needs leave them, and theirsorrows and trials, to Him who doth not willingly afflict the childrenof men; and whatsoever may have been their sins and their follies, myprayer is, that they may be forgiven, for they loved much. 

October 20. 

I do purpose to start to-morrow for the Massachusetts, going by boat tothe Piscataqua River, and thence by horse to Newbury. 

Young Mr. Jordan spent yesterday and last night with us. He is a goodlyyouth, of a very sweet and gentle disposition; nor doth he seem to me tolack spirit, although his father (who liketh not his quiet ways and easytemper, so contrary to his own, and who is sorely disappointed in thathe hath chosen the life of a farmer to that of a minister, for which hedid intend him) often accuseth him of that infirmity. Last night we hadmuch pleasant discourse touching the choice he hath made; and when Itold him that perhaps he might have become a great prelate in theChurch, and dwelt in a palace, and made a great lady of our cousin;whereas now I did see no better prospect for him than to raise corn forhis wife to make pudding of, and chop wood to boil her kettle, helaughed right merrily, and said he should never have gotten higher thana curate in a poor parish; and as for Polly, he was sure she was more athome in making puddings than in playing the fine lady. 

"For my part, " he continued, in a serious manner, "I have no notion thatthe pulpit is my place; I like the open fields and sky better than thegrandest churches of man's building; and when the wind sounds in thegreat grove of pines on the hill near our house, I doubt if there be achoir in all England so melodious and solemn. These painted autumnwoods, and this sunset light, and yonder clouds of gold and purple, doseem to me better fitted to provoke devotional thoughts, and to awaken abecoming reverence and love for the Creator, than the stained windowsand lofty arched roofs of old minsters. I do know, indeed, that therebe many of our poor busy planters, who, by reason of ignorance, ill-breeding, and lack of quiet for contemplation, do see nothing in thesethings, save as they do affect their crops of grain or grasses, or theirbodily comforts in one way or another. But to them whose minds havebeen enlightened and made large and free by study and much reflection, and whose eyes have been taught to behold the beauty and fitness ofthings, and whose ears have been so opened that they can hear theravishing harmonies of the creation, the life of a planter is verydesirable even in this wilderness, and notwithstanding the toil andprivation thereunto appertaining. There be fountains gushing up in thehearts of such, sweeter than the springs of water which flow from thehillsides, where they sojourn; and therein, also, flowers of the summerdo blossom all the year long. The brutish man knoweth not this, neitherdoth the fool comprehend it. "

"See, now, " said Polly to me, "how hard he is upon us poor unlearnedfolk. "

"Nay, to tell the truth, " said he, turning towards me, "your cousin hereis to be held not a little accountable for my present inclinations; forshe it was who did confirm and strengthen them. While I had been busyover books, she had been questioning the fields and the woods; and, asif the old fables of the poets were indeed true, she did get answersfrom them, as the priestesses and sibyls did formerly from the rustlingof leaves and trees, and the sounds of running waters; so that she couldteach me much concerning the uses and virtues of plants and shrubs, andof their time of flowering and decay; of the nature and habitudes ofwild animals and birds, the changes of the air, and of the clouds andwinds. My science, so called, had given me little more than the namesof things which to her were familiar and common. It was in her companythat I learned to read nature as a book always open, and full ofdelectable teachings, until my poor school-lore did seem undesirable andtedious, and the very chatter of the noisy blackbirds in the springmeadows more profitable and more pleasing than the angry disputes andthe cavils and subtleties of schoolmen and divines. "

My cousin blushed, and, smiling through her moist eyes at this languageof her beloved friend, said that I must not believe all he said; for, indeed, it was along of his studies of the heathen poets that he hadfirst thought of becoming a farmer. And she asked him to repeat some ofthe verses which he had at his tongue's end. He laughed, and said hedid suppose she meant some lines of Horace, which had been thusEnglished:--

 "I often wished I had a farm, A decent dwelling, snug and warm, A garden, and a spring as pure As crystal flowing by my door, Besides an ancient oaken grove, Where at my leisure I might rove. 

 "The gracious gods, to crown my bliss, Have granted this, and more than this, -- They promise me a modest spouse, To light my hearth and keep my house. I ask no more than, free from strife, To hold these blessings all my life!"

Tam exceedingly pleased, I must say, with the prospect of my cousinPolly. Her suitor is altogether a worthy young man; and, makingallowances for the uncertainty of all human things, she may well lookforward to a happy life with him. I shall leave behind on the morrowdear friends, who were strangers unto me a few short weeks ago, but inwhose joys and sorrows I shall henceforth always partake, so far as I docome to the knowledge of them, whether or no I behold their faces anymore in this life. 

HAMPTON, October 24, 1678. 

I took leave of my good friends at Agamenticus, or York, as it is nowcalled, on the morning after the last date in my journal, going in aboat with my uncle to Piscataqua and Strawberry Bank. It was a cloudyday, and I was chilled through before we got to the mouth of the river;but, as the high wind was much in our favor, we were enabled to make thevoyage in a shorter time than is common. We stopped a little at thehouse of a Mr. Cutts, a man of some note in these parts; but he beingfrom home, and one of the children sick with a quinsy, we went up theriver to Strawberry Bank, where we tarried over night. The woman whoentertained us had lost her husband in the war, and having to see to theordering of matters out of doors in this busy season of harvest, it wasno marvel that she did neglect those within. I made a comfortablesupper of baked pumpkin and milk, and for lodgings I had a straw bed onthe floor, in the dark loft, which was piled wellnigh full with corn-ears, pumpkins, and beans, besides a great deal of old householdtrumpery, wool, and flax, and the skins of animals. Although tired ofmy journey, it was some little time before I could get asleep; and it sofell out, that after the folks of the house were all abed, and still, itbeing, as I judge, nigh midnight, I chanced to touch with my foot apumpkin lying near the bed, which set it a-rolling down the stairs, bumping hard on every stair as it went. Thereupon I heard a great stirbelow, the woman and her three daughters crying out that the house washaunted. Presently she called to me from the foot of the stairs, andasked me if I did hear anything. I laughed so at all this, that it wassome time before I could speak; when I told her I did hear a thumping onthe stairs. "Did it seem to go up, or down?" inquired she, anxiously;and on my telling her that the sound went downward, she set up a sadcry, and they all came fleeing into the corn-loft, the girls bouncingupon my bed, and hiding under the blanket, and the old woman praying andgroaning, and saying that she did believe it was the spirit of her poorhusband. By this time my uncle, who was lying on the settle in the roombelow, hearing the noise, got up, and stumbling over the pumpkin, calledto know what was the matter. Thereupon the woman bade him flee upstairs, for there was a ghost in the kitchen. "Pshaw!" said my uncle, "is that all? I thought to be sure the Indians had come. " As soon as Icould speak for laughing, I told the poor creature what it was that sofrightened her; at which she was greatly vexed; and, after she went tobed again, I could hear her scolding me for playing tricks upon honestpeople. 

We were up betimes in the morning, which was bright and pleasant. Unclesoon found a friend of his, a Mr. Weare, who, with his wife, was to goto his home, at Hampton, that day, and who did kindly engage to see methus far on my way. At about eight of the clock we got upon our horses, the woman riding on a pillion behind her husband. Our way was for somemiles through the woods, --getting at times a view of the sea, andpassing some good, thriving plantations. The woods in this country areby no means like those of England, where the ancient trees are keptclear of bushes and undergrowth, and the sward beneath them is shavenclean and close; whereas here they be much tangled with vines, and thedead boughs and logs which have fallen, from their great age or whichthe storms do beat off, or the winter snows and ices do break down. Here, also, through the thick matting of dead leaves, all manner ofshrubs and bushes, some of them very sweet and fair in their flowering, and others greatly prized for their healing virtues, do grow upplenteously. In the season of them, many wholesome fruits abound in thewoods, such as blue and black berries. We passed many trees, wellloaded with walnuts and oilnuts, seeming all alive, as it were, withsquirrels, striped, red, and gray, the last having a large, spreadingtail, which Mr. Weare told me they do use as a sail, to catch the wind, that it may blow them over rivers and creeks, on pieces of bark, in somesort like that wonderful shell-fish which transformeth itself into aboat, and saileth on the waves of the sea. We also found grapes, bothwhite and purple, hanging down in clusters from the trees, over whichthe vines did run, nigh upon as large as those which the Jews of oldplucked at Eschol. The air was sweet and soft, and there was a clear, but not a hot sun, and the chirping of squirrels, and the noise ofbirds, and the sound of the waves breaking on the beach a littledistance off, and the leaves, at every breath of the wind in the tree-tops, whirling and fluttering down about me, like so many yellow andscarlet-colored birds, made the ride wonderfully pleasant andentertaining. 

Mr. Weare, on the way, told me that there was a great talk of thebewitching of Goodman Morse's house at Newbury, and that the case ofCaleb Powell was still before the Court, he being vehemently suspectedof the mischief. I told him I thought the said Caleb was a vain, talking man, but nowise of a wizard. The thing most against him, Mr. Weare said, was this: that he did deny at the first that the house wastroubled by evil spirits, and even went so far as to doubt that suchthings could be at all. "Yet many wiser men than Caleb Powell do denythe same, " I said. "True, " answered he; "but, as good Mr. Richardson, of Newbury, well saith, there have never lacked Sadducees, who believenot in angel or spirit. " I told the story of the disturbance atStrawberry Bank the night before, and how so silly a thing as a rollingpumpkin did greatly terrify a whole household; and said I did not doubtthis Newbury trouble was something very like it. Hereupon the goodwoman took the matter up, saying she had been over to Newbury, and hadseen with her own eyes, and heard with her own ears; and that she couldsay of it as the Queen of Sheba did of Solomon's glory, "The half hadnot been told her. " She then went on to tell me of many marvellous andtruly unaccountable things, so that I must needs think there is aninvisible hand at work there. 

We reached Hampton about one hour before noon; and riding up the roadtowards the meeting-house, to my great joy, Uncle Rawson, who hadbusiness with the Commissioners then sitting, came out to meet me, bidding me go on to Mr. Weare's house, whither he would follow me whenthe Court did adjourn. He came thither accordingly, to sup and lodge, bringing with him Mr. Pike the elder, one of the magistrates, a grave, venerable man, the father of mine old acquaintance, Robert. Went in theevening with Mistress Weare and her maiden sister to see a young girl inthe neighborhood, said to be possessed, or bewitched; but for mine ownpart I did see nothing in her behavior beyond that of a vicious andspoiled child, delighting in mischief. Her grandmother, with whom shelives, lays the blame on an ill-disposed woman, named Susy Martin, living in Salisbury. Mr. Pike, who dwells near this Martin, saith sheis no witch, although an arrant scold, as was her mother before her; andas for the girl, he saith that a birch twig, smartly laid on, would cureher sooner than the hanging of all the old women in the Colony. Mistress Weare says this is not the first time the Evil Spirit hath beenat work in Hampton; for they did all remember the case of GoodyMarston's child, who was, from as fair and promising an infant as onewould wish to see, changed into the likeness of an ape, to the greatgrief and sore shame of its parents; and, moreover, that when the childdied, there was seen by more than one person a little old woman in ablue cloak, and petticoat of the same color, following on after themourners, and looking very like old Eunice Cole, who was then lockedfast in Ipswich jail, twenty miles off. Uncle Rawson says he has allthe papers in his possession touching the trial of this Cole, and willlet me see them when we get back to Newbury. There was much talk onthis matter, which so disturbed my fancy that I slept but poorly. Thisafternoon we go over to Newbury, where, indeed, I do greatly long to beonce more. 

NEWBURY, October 26. 

Cousin Rebecca gone to Boston, and not expected home until next week. The house seems lonely without her. R. Pike looked in upon us thismorning, telling us that there was a rumor in Boston, brought by way ofthe New York Colony, that a great Papist Plot had been discovered inEngland, and that it did cause much alarm in London and thereabout. R. Pike saith he doubts not the Papists do plot, it being the custom oftheir Jesuits so to do; but that, nevertheless, it would be no strangething if it should be found that the Bishops and the Government did setthis rumor a-going, for the excuse and occasion of some new persecutionsof Independents and godly people. 

October 27. 

Mr. Richardson preached yesterday, from Deuteronomy xviii. 10th, 11th, and 12th verses. An ingenious and solid discourse, in which he showedthat, as among the heathen nations surrounding the Jews, there weresorcerers, charmers, wizards, and consulters with familiar spirits, whowere an abomination to the Lord, so in our time the heathen nations ofIndians had also their powahs and panisees and devilish wizards, againstwhom the warning of the text might well be raised by the watchmen on thewalls of our Zion. He moreover said that the arts of the Adversary werenow made manifest in this place in a most strange and terrible manner, and it did become the duty of all godly persons to pray and wrestle withthe Lord, that they who have made a covenant with hell may be speedilydiscovered in their wickedness, and cut off from the congregation. Anawful discourse, which made many tremble and quake, and did quiteovercome Goodwife Morse, she being a weakly woman, so that she had to becarried out of the meeting. 

It being cold weather, and a damp easterly wind keeping me within doors, I have been looking over with uncle his papers about the Hampton witch, Eunice Cole, who was twice tried for her mischiefs; and I incline tocopy some of them, as I know they will be looked upon as worthy of, record by my dear Cousin Oliver and mine other English friends. I findthat as long ago as the year 1656, this same Eunice Cole was complainedof, and many witnesses did testify to her wickedness. Here followethsome of the evidence on the first trial:--

"The deposition of Goody Marston and Goodwife Susanna Palmer, who, beingsworn, sayeth, that Goodwife Cole saith that she was sure there was awitch in town, and that she knew where he dwelt, and who they are, andthat thirteen years ago she knew one bewitched as Goodwife Marston'schild was, and she was sure that party was bewitched, for it told herso, and it was changed from a man to an ape, as Goody Marston's childwas, and she had prayed this thirteen year that God would discover thatwitch. And further the deponent saith not. 

"Taken on oath before the Commissioners of Hampton, the 8th of the 2ndmo. , 1656. 

 "WILLIAM FULLER. "HENRY DOW. 

"Vera copea: "THOS. BRADBURY, Recorder. 

"Sworn before, the 4th of September, 1656, "EDWARD RAWSON. 

"Thomas Philbrick testifieth that Goody Cole told him that if any of hiscalves did eat of her grass, she hoped it would poison them; and it fellout that one never came home again, and the other coming home died soonafter. 

"Henry Morelton's wife and Goodwife Sleeper depose that, talking aboutGoody Cole and Marston's child, they did hear a great scraping againstthe boards of the window, which was not done by a cat or dog. 

"Thomas Coleman's wife testifies that Goody Cole did repeat to anotherthe very words which passed between herself and her husband, in theirown house, in private; and Thomas Ormsby, the constable of Salisbury, testifies, that when he did strip Eunice Cole of her shift, to bewhipped, by the judgment of the Court at Salisbury, he saw a witch'smark under her left breast. Moreover, one Abra. Drake doth depose andsay, that this Goody Cole threatened that the hand of God would beagainst his cattle, and forthwith two of his cattle died, and before theend of summer a third also. "

About five years ago, she was again presented by the Jury for theMassachusetts jurisdiction, for having "entered into a covenant with theDevil, contrary to the peace of our Sovereign Lord the King, his crownand dignity, the laws of God and this jurisdiction"; and much testimonywas brought against her, tending to show her to be an arrant witch. Forit seems she did fix her evil eye upon a little maid named Ann Smith, toentice her to her house, appearing unto her in the shape of a little oldwoman, in a blue coat, a blue cap, and a blue apron, and a whiteneckcloth, and presently changing into a dog, and running up a tree, andthen into an eagle flying in the air, and lastly into a gray cat, speaking to her, and troubling her in a grievous manner. Moreover, theconstable of the town of Hampton testifies, that, having to supply GoodyCole with diet, by order of the town, she being poor, she complainedmuch of him, and after that his wife could bake no bread in the ovenwhich did not speedily rot and become loathsome to the smell, but thesame meal baked at a neighbor's made good and sweet bread; and, further, that one night there did enter into their chamber a smell like that ofthe bewitched bread, only more loathsome, and plainly diabolical in itsnature, so that, as the constable's wife saith, "she was fain to rise inthe night and desire her husband to go to prayer to drive away theDevil; and he, rising, went to prayer, and after that, the smell wasgone, so that they were not troubled with it. " There is also thetestimony of Goodwife Perkins, that she did see, on the Lord's day, while Mr. Dalton was preaching, an imp in the shape of a mouse, fall outthe bosom of Eunice Cole down into her lap. For all which, the CountyCourt, held at Salisbury, did order her to be sent to the Boston Jail, to await her trial at the Court of Assistants. This last Court, I learnfrom mine uncle, did not condemn her, as some of the evidence was old, and not reliable. Uncle saith she was a wicked old woman, who had beenoften whipped and set in the ducking-stool, but whether she was a witchor no, he knows not for a certainty. 

November 8. 

Yesterday, to my great joy, came my beloved Cousin Rebecca from Boston. In her company also came the worthy minister and doctor of medicine, Mr. Russ, formerly of Wells, but now settled at a plantation near Cocheco. He is to make some little tarry in this town, where at this present timemany complain of sickness. Rebecca saith he is one of the excellent ofthe earth, and, like his blessed Lord and Master, delighteth in goingabout doing good, and comforting both soul and body. He hath acheerful, pleasant countenance, and is very active, albeit he is wellstricken in years. He is to preach for Mr. Richardson next Sabhath, andin the mean time lodgeth at my uncle's house. 

This morning the weather is raw and cold, the ground frozen, and somesnow fell before sunrise. A little time ago, Dr. Russ, who was walkingin the garden, came in a great haste to the window where Rebecca and Iwere sitting, bidding us come forth. So, we hurrying out, the good manbade us look whither he pointed, and to! a flock of wild geese, streaming across the sky, in two great files, sending down, as it were, from the clouds, their loud and sonorous trumpetings, "Cronk, cronk, cronk!" These birds, the Doctor saith, do go northward in March tohatch their broods in the great bogs and on the desolate islands, andfly back again when the cold season approacheth. Our worthy guestimproved the occasion to speak of the care and goodness of God towardshis creation, and how these poor birds are enabled, by their properinstincts, to partake of his bounty, and to shun the evils of adverseclimates. He never looked, he said, upon the flight of these fowls, without calling to mind the query which was of old put to Job: "Doth thehawk fly by thy wisdom, and stretch her wings toward the south? Doththe eagle mount up at thy command, and make her nest on high?"

November 12, 1678. 

Dr. Russ preached yesterday, having for his text 1 Corinthians, chap. Xiii. Verse 5: "Charity seeketh not her own. " He began by saying thatmutual benevolence was a law of nature, --no one being a whole ofhimself, nor capable of happily subsisting by himself, but rather amember of the great body of mankind, which must dissolve and perish, unless held together and compacted in its various parts by the force ofthat common and blessed law. The wise Author of our being hath mostmanifestly framed and fitted us for one another, and ordained thatmutual charity shall supply our mutual wants and weaknesses, inasmuchas no man liveth to himself, but is dependent upon others, as others beupon him. It hath been said by ingenious men, that in the outward worldall things do mutually operate upon and affect each other; and that itis by the energy of this principle that our solid earth is supported, and the heavenly bodies are made to keep the rhythmic harmonies of theircreation, and dispense upon us their benign favors; and it may be said, that a law akin to this hath been ordained for the moral world, --mutualbenevolence being the cement and support of families, and churches, andstates, and of the great community and brotherhood of mankind. It dothboth make and preserve all the peace, and harmony, and beauty, whichliken our world in some small degree to heaven, and without it allthings would rush into confusion and discord, and the earth would becomea place of horror and torment, and men become as ravening wolves, devouring and being devoured by one another. 

Charity is the second great commandment, upon which hang all the Lawand the Prophets; and it is like unto the first, and cannot be separatedfrom it; for at the great day of recompense we shall be tried by thesecommandments, and our faithfulness unto the first will be seen andmanifested by our faithfulness unto the last. Yea, by our love of oneanother the Lord will measure our love of himself. "Inasmuch as ye havedone it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it untome. " The grace of benevolence is therefore no small part of ourmeetness for the inheritance of the saints in light; it is the temper ofheaven; the air which the angels breathe; an immortal grace, --for whenfaith which supporteth us here, and hope which is as an anchor to thetossed soul, are no longer needed, charity remaineth forever, for it isnative in heaven, and partaketh of the divine nature, for God himself islove. 

"Oh, my hearers, " said the preacher, his venerable face brightening asif with a light shining from within, "Doth not the Apostle tell us thatskill in tongues and gifts of prophecy, and mysteries of knowledge andfaith, do avail nothing where charity is lacking? What avail greattalents, if they be not devoted to goodness? On the other hand, wherecharity dwelleth, it maketh the weak strong and the uncomely beautiful;it sheddeth a glory about him who possesseth it, like that which didshine on the face of Moses, or that which did sit upon the countenanceof Stephen, when his face was as the face of an angel. Above all, itconformeth us to the Son of God; for through love he came among us, andwent about doing good, adorning his life with miracles of mercy, and atlast laid it down for the salvation of men. What heart can resist hismelting entreaty: 'Even as I have loved you, love ye also one another. '

"We do all, " he continued, "seek after happiness, but too often blindlyand foolishly. The selfish man, striving to live for himself, shuttethhimself up to partake of his single portion, and marvelleth that hecannot enjoy it. The good things he hath laid up for himself fail tocomfort him; and although he hath riches, and wanteth nothing for hissoul of all that he desireth, yet hath he not power to partake thereof. They be as delicates poured upon a mouth shut up, or as meats set upon agrave. But he that hath found charity to be the temper of happiness, which doth put the soul in a natural and easy condition, and openeth itto the solaces of that pure and sublime entertainment which the angelsdo spread for such as obey the will of their Creator, hath discovered amore subtle alchemy than any of which the philosophers did dream, --forhe transmuteth the enjoyments of others into his own, and his large andopen heart partaketh of the satisfaction of all around him. Are thereany here who, in the midst of outward abundance, are sorrowful ofheart, --who go mourning on their way from some inward discomfort, ---Wholong for serenity of spirit, and cheerful happiness, as the servantearnestly desireth the shadow? Let such seek out the poor and forsaken, they who have no homes nor estates, who are the servants of sin and evilhabits, who lack food for both the body and the mind. Thus shall they, in rememering others, forget themselves; the pleasure they afford totheir fellow-creatures shall come back larger and fuller unto their ownbosoms, and they shall know of a truth how much the more blessed it isto give than to receive. In love and compassion, God hath made usdependent upon each other, to the end that by the use of our affectionswe may find true happiness and rest to our souls. He hath united us soclosely with our fellows, that they do make, as it were, a part of ourbeing, and in comforting them we do most assuredly comfort ourselves. Therein doth happiness come to us unawares, and without seeking, as theservant who goeth on his master's errand findeth pleasant fruits andsweet flowers overhanging him, and cool fountains, which he knew not of, gushing up by the wayside, for his solace and refreshing. "

The minister then spake of the duty of charity towards even the sinfuland froward, and of winning them by love and good will, and making eventheir correction and punishment a means of awakening them to repentance, and the calling forth of the fruits meet for it. He also spake of self-styled prophets and enthusiastic people, who went about to cry againstthe Church and the State, and to teach new doctrines, saying thatoftentimes such were sent as a judgment upon the professors of thetruth, who had the form of godliness only, while lacking the powerthereof; and that he did believe that the zeal which had been manifestedagainst such had not always been enough seasoned with charity. It didargue a lack of faith in the truth, to fly into a panic and a great ragewhen it was called in question; and to undertake to become God'savengers, and to torture and burn heretics, was an error of the Papists, which ill became those who had gone out from among them. Moreover, hedid believe that many of these people, who had so troubled the Colony oflate, were at heart simple and honest men and women, whose heads mightindeed be unsound, but who at heart sought to do the will of God; and, of a truth, all could testify to the sobriety and strictness of theirlives, and the justice of their dealings in outward things. He spakealso somewhat of the Indians, who, he said, were our brethren, andconcerning whom we would have an account to give at the Great Day. Thehand of these heathen people had been heavy upon the Colonies, and manyhad suffered from their cruel slaughterings, and the captivity ofthemselves and their families. Here the aged minister wept, for hedoubtless thought of his son, who was slain in the war; and for a timethe words did seem to die in his throat, so greatly was he moved. Buthe went on to say, that since God, in his great and undeserved mercy, had put an end to the war, all present unkindness and hard dealingtowards he poor benighted heathen was an offence in the eyes of Him whorespecteth not the persons of men, but who regardeth with an equal eyethe white and the red men, both being the workmanship of His hands. Itis our blessed privilege to labor to bring them to a knowledge of thetrue God, whom, like the Athenians, some of them do ignorantly worship;while the greater part, as was said of the heathen formerly, do not, out of the good pings that are seen, know Him that is; neither byconsidering the works do they acknowledge the workmaster, but deem thefire or wind, or the swift air, or the circle of the stars, or theviolent water, or the lights of heaven, to be the gods who govern theworld. 

He counselled against mischief-makers and stirrers up of strife, andsuch as do desire occasion against their brethren. He said that it didseem as if many thought to atone for their own sins by their great heatand zeal to discover wickedness in others; and that he feared such mightbe the case now, when there was much talk of the outward and visibledoings of Satan in this place; whereas, the enemy was most to be fearedwho did work privily in the heart; it being a small thing for him tobewitch a dwelling made of wood and stone, who did so easily possess andenchant the precious souls of men. 

Finally, he did exhort all to keep watch over their own spirits, and toremember that what measure they do mete to others shall be measured tothem again; to lay aside all wrath, and malice, and evil-speaking; tobear one another's burdens, and so make this Church in the wildernessbeautiful and comely, an example to the world of that peace and goodwill to men, which the angels sang of at the birth of the blessedRedeemer. 

I have been the more careful to give the substance of Mr. Russ's sermon, as nearly as I can remember it, forasmuch as it hath given offence tosome who did listen to it. Deacon Dole saith it was such a discourse asa Socinian or a Papist might have preached, for the great stress it laidupon works; and Goodwife Matson, a noisy, talking woman, --such an one, no doubt, as those busybodies whom Saint Paul did rebuke forforwardness, and command to keep silence in the church, --says thepreacher did go out of his way to favor Quakers, Indians, and witches;and that the Devil in Goody Morse's house was no doubt well pleased withthe discourse. R. Pike saith he does no wise marvel at her complaints;for when she formerly dwelt at the Marblehead fishing-haven, she was oneof the unruly women who did break into Thompson's garrison-house, andbarbarously put to death two Saugus Indians, who had given themselves upfor safe keeping, and who had never harmed any, which thing was a greatgrief and scandal to all well-disposed people. And yet this woman, whoscrupled not to say that she would as lief stick an Indian as a hog, andwho walked all the way from Marblehead to Boston to see the Quaker womanhung, and did foully jest over her dead body, was allowed to have herway in the church, Mr. Richardson being plainly in fear of her illtongue and wicked temper. 

November 13. 

The Quaker maid, Margaret Brewster, came this morning, inquiring for theDoctor, and desiring him to visit a sick man at her father's house, alittle way up the river; whereupon he took his staff and went with her. On his coming back, he said he must do the Quakers the justice to say, that, with all their heresies and pestilent errors of doctrine, theywere a kind people; for here was Goodman Brewster, whose small estatehad been wellnigh taken from him in fines, and whose wife was a weak, ailing woman, who was at this time kindly lodging and nursing a poor, broken-down soldier, by no means likely to repay him, in any sort. Asfor the sick man, he had been hardly treated in the matter of his wages, while in the war, and fined, moreover, on the ground that he did profanethe holy Sabhath; and though he had sent a petition to the HonorableGovernor and Council, for the remission of the same, it had been to nopurpose. Mr. Russ said he had taken a copy of this petition, with theanswer thereto, intending to make another application himself to theauthorities; for although the petitioner might have been blamable, yethis necessity did go far to excuse it. He gave me the papers to copy, which are as followeth:--

"To the Hon. The Governor and Council, now sitting in Boston, July 30, 1676. The Petition of Jonathan Atherton humbly showeth:

"That your Petitioner, being a soldier under Captain Henchman, duringtheir abode at Concord, Captain H. , under pretence of your petitioner'sprofanation of the Sabhath, had sentenced your petitioner to lose afortnight's pay. Now, the thing that was alleged against yourpetitioner was, that he cut a piece of an old hat to put in his shoes, and emptied three or four cartridges. Now, there was great occasion andnecessity for his so doing, for his shoes were grown so big, by walkingand riding in the wet and dew, that they galled his feet so that he wasnot able to go without pain; and his cartridges, being in a bag, --wereworn with continual travel, so that they lost the powder out, so that itwas dangerous to carry them; besides, he did not know how soon he shouldbe forced to make use of them, therefore he did account it lawful to dothe same; yet, if it be deemed a breach of the Sabhath, he desires to behumbled before the Lord, and begs the pardon of his people for anyoffence done to them thereby. And doth humbly request the favor of yourHonors to consider the premises, and to remit the fine imposed upon him, and to give order to the committee for the war for the payment of hiswages. So shall he forever pray. . . . "

11 Aug. 1676. --The Council sees no cause to grant the petitioner anyrelief. "

NEWBURY, November 18, 1678. 

Went yesterday to the haunted house with Mr. Russ and Mr. Richardson, Rebecca and Aunt Rawson being in the company. Found the old couple inmuch trouble, sitting by the fire, with the Bible open before them, andGoody Morse weeping. Mr. Richardson asked Goodman Morse to tell what hehad seen and heard in the house; which he did, to this effect: Thatthere had been great and strange noises all about the house, a bangingof doors, and a knocking on the boards, and divers other unaccountablesounds; that he had seen his box of tools turn over of itself, and thetools fly about the room; baskets dropping down the chimney, and thepots hanging over the fire smiting against each other; and, moreover, the irons on the hearth jumping into the pots, and dancing on the table. Goodwife Morse said that her bread-tray would upset of its own accord, and the great woollen wheel would contrive to turn itself upside down, and stand on its end; and that when she and the boy did make the beds, the blankets would fly off as fast as they put them on, all of which theboy did confirm. Mr. Russ asked her if she suspected any one of themischief; whereupon she said she did believe it was done by the seamanPowell, a cunning man, who was wont to boast of his knowledge inastrology and astronomy, having been brought tip under one Norwood, who is said to have studied the Black Art. He had wickedly accused hergrandson of the mischief, whereas the poor boy had himself sufferedgreatly from the Evil Spirit, having been often struck with stones andbits of boards, which were flung upon him, and kept awake o' nights bythe diabolical noises. Goodman Morse here said that Powell, coming in, and pretending to pity their lamentable case, told them that if theywould let him have the boy for a day or two, they should be free of thetrouble while he was with him; and that the boy going with him, they hadno disturbance in that time; which plainly showed that this Powell hadthe wicked spirits in his keeping, and could chain them up, or let themout, as he pleased. 

Now, while she was speaking, we did all hear a great thumping on theceiling, and presently a piece of a board flew across the room againstthe chair on which Mr. Richardson was sitting; whereat the two oldpeople set up a dismal groaning, and the boy cried out, "That's thewitch!" Goodman Morse begged of Mr. Richardson to fall to praying, which he presently did; and, when he had done, he asked Mr. Russ tofollow him, who sat silent and musing a little while, and then prayedthat the worker of the disturbance, whether diabolical or human, mightbe discovered and brought to light. After which there was no noisewhile we staid. Mr. Russ talked awhile with the boy, who did stoutlydeny what Caleb Powell charged upon him, and showed a bruise which hegot from a stick thrown at him in the cow-house. When we went away, Mr. Richardson asked Mr. Russ what he thought of it. Mr. Russ said, the matter had indeed a strange look, but that it might be, nevertheless, the work of the boy, who was a cunning young rogue, andcapable beyond his years. Mr. Richardson said he hoped his brother wasnot about to countenance the scoffers and Sadducees, who had all alongtried to throw doubt upon the matter. For himself, he did look upon itas the work of invisible demons, and an awful proof of the existence ofsuch, and of the deplorable condition of all who fall into their bands;moreover, he did believe that God would overrule this malice of theDevil for good, and make it a means of awakening sinners and lukewarmchurch-members to a sense of their danger. 

Last night, brother Leonard, who is studying with the learned Mr. Ward, the minister at Haverbill, came down, in the company of the worshipfulMajor Saltonstall, who hath business with Esquire Dummer and othermagistrates of this place. Mr. Saltonstall's lady, who is the daughterof Mr. Ward, sent by her husband and my brother a very kind and pressinginvitation to Rebecca and myself to make a visit to her; and Mr. Saltonstall did also urge the matter strongly. So we have agreed to gowith them the day after to-morrow. Now, to say the truth, I am notsorry to leave Newbury at this time, for there is so much talk of thebewitched house, and such dismal stories told of the power of invisibledemons, added to what I did myself hear and see yesterday, that I canscarce sleep for the trouble and disquiet this matter causeth. Dr. Russ, who left this morning, said, in his opinion, the less that wassaid and done about the witchcraft the better for the honor of theChurch and the peace of the neighborhood; for it might, after all, turnout to be nothing more than an "old wife's fable;" but if it were indeedthe work of Satan, it could, he did believe, do no harm to sincere andgodly people, who lived sober and prayerful lives, and kept themselvesbusy in doing good. The doers of the Word seldom fell into the snare ofthe Devil's enchantments. He might be compared to a wild beast, whodareth not to meddle with the traveller who goeth straightway on hiserrand, but lieth in wait for such as loiter and fall asleep by thewayside. He feared, he said, that some in our day were trying to get agreat character to themselves, as the old monks did, by their skill indiscerning witcherafts, and their pretended conflicts with the Devil inhis bodily shape; and thus, while they were seeking to drive the enemyout of their neighbors' houses, they were letting him into their ownhearts, in the guise of deceit and spiritual pride. Repentance andworks meet for it were the best exorcism; and the savor of a good lifedriveth off Evil Spirits, even as that of the fish of Tobit, atEcbatana, drove the Devil from the chamber of the bride into theuttermost parts of Egypt. "For mine own part, " continued the worthyman, "I believe the Lord and Master, whom I seek to serve, is over allthe powers of Satan; therefore do I not heed them, being afraid only ofmine own accusing conscience and the displeasure of God. "

We are all loath to lose the good Doctor's company. An Israeliteindeed! My aunt, who once tarried for a little time with him for thebenefit of his skill in physic, on account of sickness, tells me thathe is as a father to the people about him, advising them in all theirtemporal concerns, and bringing to a timely and wise settlement alltheir disputes, so that there is nowhere a more prosperous and lovingsociety. Although accounted a learned man, he doth not perplex hishearers, as the manner of some is, with dark and difficult questions, and points of doctrine, but insisteth mainly on holiness of life andconversation. It is said that on one occasion, a famous schoolman anddisputer from abroad, coming to talk with him on the matter of thedamnation of infants, did meet him with a cradle on his shoulder, whichhe was carrying to a young mother in his neighborhood, and when the mantold him his errand, --the good Doctor bade him wait until he got back, "for, " said he, "I hold it to be vastly more important to take care ofthe bodies of the little infants which God in his love sends among us, than to seek to pry into the mysteries of His will concerning theirsouls. " He hath no salary or tithe, save the use of a house and farm, choosing rather to labor with his own hands than to burden hisneighbors; yet, such is their love and good-will, that in the busyseasons of the hay and corn harvest, they all join together and help himin his fields, counting it a special privilege to do so. 

November 19. 

Leonard and Mr. Richardson, talking upon the matter of the ministry, disagreed not a little. Mr. Richardson says my brother hath got intohis head many unscriptural notions, and that he will never be of servicein the Church until he casts them off. He saith, moreover, that heshall write to Mr. Ward concerning the errors of the young man. Hiswords troubling me, I straightway discoursed my brother as to the pointsof difference between them; but he, smiling, said it was a long story, but that some time he would tell me the substance of the disagreement, bidding me have no fear in his behalf, as what had displeasured Mr. Richardson had arisen only from tenderness of conscience. 

HAVERHILL, November 22. 

Left Newbury day before yesterday. The day cold, but sunshiny, and notunpleasant. Mr. Saltonstall's business calling him that way, we crossedover the ferry to Salisbury, and after a ride of about an hour, got tothe Falls of the Powow River, where a great stream of water rushesviolently down the rocks, into a dark wooded valley, and from thenceruns into the Merrimac, about a mile to the southeast. A wild sight itwas, the water swollen by the rains of the season, foaming and dashingamong the rocks and the trees, which latter were wellnigh stripped oftheir leaves. Leaving this place, we went on towards Haverhill. Justbefore we entered that town, we overtook an Indian, with a fresh wolf'sskin hanging over his shoulder. As soon as he saw us, he tried to hidehimself in the bushes; but Mr. Saltonstall, riding up to him, asked himif he did expect Haverhill folks to pay him forty shillings for killingthat Amesbury wolf? "How you know Amesbury wolf?" asked the Indian. "Oh, " said Mr. Saltonstall, "you can't cheat us again, Simon. You mustbe honest, and tell no more lies, or we will have you whipped for yourtricks. " The Indian thereupon looked sullen enough, but at length hebegged Mr. Saltonstall not to tell where the wolf was killed, as theAmesbury folks did now refuse to pay for any killed in their town; and, as he was a poor Indian, and his squaw much sick, and could do no work, he did need the money. Mr. Saltonstall told him he would send his wifesome cornmeal and bacon, when he got home, if he would come for them, which he promised to do. 

When we had ridden off, and left him, Mr. Saltonstall told us that thisSimon was a bad Indian, who, when in drink, was apt to be saucy andquarrelsome; but that his wife was quite a decent body for a savage, having long maintained herself and children and her lazy, cross husband, by hard labor in the cornfields and at the fisheries. 

Haverhill lieth very pleasantly on the river-side; the land about hillyand broken, but of good quality. Mr. Saltonstall liveth in a statelyhouse for these parts, not far from that of his father-in-law, thelearned Mr. Ward. Madam, his wife, is a fair, pleasing young woman, not unused to society, their house being frequented by many of the firstpeople hereabout, as well as by strangers of distinction from otherparts of the country. We had hardly got well through our dinner (whichwas abundant and savory, being greatly relished by our hunger), when twogentlemen came riding up to the door; and on their coming in, we foundthem to be the young Doctor Clark, of Boston, a son of the old Newburyphysician, and a Doctor Benjamin Thompson, of Roxbury, who I hear is nota little famous for his ingenious poetry and witty pieces on manysubjects. He was, moreover, an admirer of my cousin Rebecca; and onlearning of her betrothal to Sir Thomas did write a most despairingverse to her, comparing himself to all manner of lonesome things, sothat when Rebecca showed it to me, I told her I did fear the poor younggentleman would put an end to himself, by reason of his great sorrow anddisquiet; whereat she laughed merrily, bidding me not fear, for she knewthe writer too well to be troubled thereat, for he loved nobody so wellas himself, and that under no provocation would he need the Apostle'sadvice to the jailer, "Do thyself no harm. " All which I found to betrue, --he being a gay, witty man, full of a fine conceit of himself, which is not so much to be marvelled at, as he hath been greatlyflattered and sought after. 

The excellent Mr. Ward spent the evening with us; a pleasant, social oldman, much beloved by his people. He told us a great deal about theearly settlement of the town, and of the grievous hardships which manydid undergo the first season, from cold, and hunger, and sickness. Hethought, however, that, with all their ease and worldly prosperity, thepresent generation were less happy and contented than their fathers; forthere was now a great striving to outdo each other in luxury and gayapparel; the Lord's day was not so well kept as formerly; and thedrinking of spirits and frequenting of ordinaries and places of publicresort vastly increased. Mr. Saltonstall said the war did not a littledemoralize the people, and that since the soldiers cause back, there hadbeen much trouble in Church and State. The General Court, two yearsago, had made severe laws against the provoking evils of the times:profaneness, Sabbath-breaking, drinking, and revelling to excess, looseand sinful conduct on the part of the young and unmarried, pride indress, attending Quakers' meetings, and neglect of attendance upondivine worship; but these laws had never been well enforced; and hefeared too many of the magistrates were in the condition of the DutchJustice in the New York Province, who, when a woman was brought beforehim charged with robbing a henroost, did request his brother on thebench to pass sentence upon her; for, said he, if I send her to thewhipping post, the wench will cry out against me as her accomplice. 

Doctor Clark said his friend Doctor Thompson had written a long piece onthis untoward state of our affairs, which he hoped soon to see in print, inasmuch as it did hold the looking-glass to the face of thisgeneration, and shame it by a comparison with that of the generationwhich has passed. Mr. Ward said he was glad to hear of it, and hopedhis ingenious friend had brought the manuscript with him; whereupon, theyoung gentleman said he did take it along with him, in the hope tobenefit it by Mr. Ward's judgment and learning, and with the leave ofthe company he would read the Prologue thereof. To which we allagreeing, he read what follows, which I copy from his book:--

"The times wherein old PUMPKIN was a saint, When men fared hardly, yet without complaint, On vilest cates; the dainty Indian maizeWas eat with clam-shells out of wooden trays, Under thatched roofs, without the cry of rent, And the best sauce to every dish, content, --These golden times (too fortunate to hold)Were quickly sinned away for love of gold. 'T was then among the bushes, not the street, If one in place did an inferior meet, 'Good morrow, brother! Is there aught you want?Take freely of me what I have, you ha'n't. 'Plain Tom and Dick would pass as current now, As ever since 'Your servant, sir, ' and bow. Deep-skirted doublets, puritanic capes, Which now would render men like upright apes, Was comelier wear, our wise old fathers thought, Than the cast fashions from all Europe brought. 'T was in those days an honest grace would holdTill an hot pudding grew at heart a-cold, And men had better stomachs for religion, Than now for capon, turkey-cock, or pigeon;When honest sisters met to pray, not prate, About their own and not their neighbors' state, During Plain Dealing's reign, that worthy studOf the ancient planter-race before the Flood. 

"These times were good: merchants cared not a rushFor other fare than jonakin and mush. And though men fared and lodged very hard, Yet innocence was better than a guard. 'T was long before spiders and worms had drawnTheir dingy webs, or hid with cheating lawnNew England's beauties, which still seemed to meIllustrious in their own simplicity. 'T was ere the neighboring Virgin Land had brokeThe hogsheads of her worse than hellish smoke;'T was ere the Islands sent their presents in, Which but to use was counted next to sin;'T was ere a barge had made so rich a freightAs chocolate, dust-gold, and bits of eight;Ere wines from France and Muscovado too, Without the which the drink will scarcely do. From Western Isles, ere fruits and delicaciesDid rot maids' teeth and spoil their handsome faces, Or ere these times did chance the noise of warWas from our tines and hearts removed far, Then had the churches rest: as yet, the coalsWere covered up in most contentious souls;Freeness in judgment, union in affection, Dear love, sound truth, they were our grand protection. Then were the times in which our Councils sat, These grave prognostics of our future state;If these be longer lived, our hopes increase, These wars will usher in a longer peace;But if New England's love die in its youth, The grave will open next for blessed truth. 

"This theme is out of date; the peaceful hoursWhen castles needed not, but pleasant bowers, Not ink, but blood and tears now serve the turnTo draw the figure of New England's urn. New England's hour of passion is at hand, No power except Divine can it withstand. Scarce hath her glass of fifty years run out, Than her old prosperous steeds turn heads about;Tracking themselves back to their poor beginnings, To fear and fare upon the fruits of sinnings. So that this mirror of the Christian worldLies burnt to heaps in part, her streamers furled. Grief sighs, joys flee, and dismal fears surprise, Not dastard spirits only, but the wise. 

"Thus have the fairest hopes deceived the eyeOf the big-swoln expectants standing bySo the proud ship, after a little turn, Sinks in the ocean's arms to find its urn:Thus hath the heir to many thousands bornBeen in an instant from the mother torn;Even thus thy infant cheek begins to pale, And thy supporters through great losses fail. This is the Prologue to thy future woe--The Epilogue no mortal yet can know. "

Mr. Ward was much pleased with the verses, saying that they would dohonor to any writer. 

Rebecca thought the lines concerning the long grace at meat happy, andsaid she was minded of the wife of the good Mr. Ames, who prided herselfon her skill in housewifery and cookery; and on one occasion, seeing anice pair of roasted fowls growing cold under her husband's long grace, was fain to jog his elbow, telling him that if he did not stop soon, shefeared they would have small occasion for thankfulness for their spoileddinner. Mr. Ward said he was once travelling in company with Mr. Phillips of Rowley, and Mr. Parker of Newbury, and stopping all night ata poor house near the sea-shore, the woman thereof brought into the roomfor their supper a great wooden tray, full of something nicely coveredup by a clean linen cloth. It proved to be a dish of boiled clams, intheir shells; and as Mr. Phillips was remarkable in his thanks for aptlyciting passages of Scripture with regard to whatsoever food was upon thetable before him, Mr. Parker and himself did greatly wonder what hecould say of this dish; but he, nothing put to it, offered thanks thatnow, as formerly, the Lord's people were enabled to partake of theabundance of the seas, and treasures hid in the sands. "Whereat, " saidMr. Ward, "we did find it so hard to keep grave countenances, that ourgood hostess was not a little disturbed, thinking we were mocking herpoor fare; and we were fain to tell her the cause of our mirth, whichwas indeed ill-timed. "

Doctor Clark spake of Mr. Ward's father, the renowned minister atIpswich, whose book of "The Simple Cobbler of Agawam, " was much admired. Mr. Ward said that some of the witty turns therein did give much offenceat the time of its printing, but that his father could never spoil hisjoke for the sake of friends, albeit he had no malice towards any one, and was always ready to do a good, even to his enemies. He once evengreatly angered his old and true friend, Mr. Cotton of Boston. "It fellout in this wise, " said Mr. Ward. "When the arch-heretic and fanaticGorton and his crew were in prison in Boston, my father and Mr. Cottonwent to the jail window to see them; and after some little discoursewith them, he told Gorton that if he had done or said anything which hecould with a clear conscience renounce, he would do well to recant thesame, and the Court, he doubted not, would be merciful; adding, that itwould be no disparagement for him to do so, as the best of men wereliable to err: as, for instance, his brother Cotton here generally didpreach that one year which he publicly repented of before hiscongregation the next year. "

Mr. Saltonstall told another story of old Mr. Ward, which made us allmerry. There was a noted Antinomian, of Boston, who used to go muchabout the country disputing with all who would listen to him, who, coming to Ipswich one night, with another of his sort with him, wouldfain have tarried with Mr. Ward; but he told them that he had scarce hayand grain enough in his barn for the use of his own cattle, and thatthey would do well to take their horses to the ordinary, where theywould be better cared for. But the fellow, not wishing to be so putoff, bade him consider what the Scripture said touching the keeping ofstrangers, as some had thereby entertained angels unawares. "True, my friend, " said Mr. Ward, "but we don't read that the angels camea-horseback!"

The evening passed away in a very pleasant and agreeable manner. We hadrare nuts, and apples, and pears, of Mr. Saltonstall's raising, wonderfully sweet and luscious. Our young gentlemen, moreover, seemedto think the wine and ale of good quality; for, long after we had goneto our beds, we could hear them talking and laughing in the great hallbelow, notwithstanding that Mr. Ward, when he took leave, bade DoctorThompson take heed to his own hint concerning the:

 "Wines from France and Muscovado too;"

to which the young wit replied, that there was Scripture warrant for hisdrinking, inasmuch as the command was, to give wine to those that be ofheavy heart. Let him drink, and forget his poverty, and remember hismisery no more; and, for his part, he had been little better thanmiserable ever since he heard of Rebecca's betrothal. A light, carelessman, but of good parts, and as brave a talker as I have heard since Ihave been in the Colony. 

November 24. 

Mr. Ward's negro girl Dinah came for me yesterday, saying that hermaster did desire to see me. So, marvelling greatly what he wanted, I went with her, and was shown into the study. Mr. Ward said he hadsent for me to have some discourse in regard to my brother Leonard, whohe did greatly fear was likely to make shipwreck of the faith; and thatMr. Richardson had written him concerning the young man, telling himthat he did visit the Quakers when at Newbury, and even went over totheir conventicle at Hampton, on the Lord's day, in the company of theBrewster family, noted Quakers and ranters. He had the last evening hadsome words with the lad, but with small satisfaction. Being sorelytroubled by this account, I begged him to send for Leonard, which hedid, and, when he did come into the room, Mr. Ward told him that hemight see by the plight of his sister (for I was in tears) what a greatgrief he was like to bring upon his family and friends, by running outinto heresies. Leonard said he was sorry to give trouble to any one, least of all to his beloved sister; that he did indeed go to theQuakers' meeting, on one occasion, to judge for himself concerning thispeople, who are everywhere spoken against; and that he must say he didhear or see nothing in their worship contrary to the Gospel. There was, indeed, but little said, but the words were savory and Scriptural. "Butthey deny the Scriptures, " cried Mr. Ward, "and set above them what theycall the Light, which I take to be nothing better than their ownimaginations. " "I do not so understand them, " said Leonard; "I thinkthey do diligently study the Scripture, and seek to conform their livesto its teachings; and for the Light of which they speak, it is borne--witness to not only in the Bible, but by the early fathers and devoutmen of all ages. I do not go to excuse the Quakers in all that theyhave done, nor to defend all their doctrines and practices, many ofwhich I see no warrant in Scripture for, but believe to be perniciousand contrary to good order; yet I must need look upon them as a sober, earnest-seeking people, who do verily think themselves persecuted forrighteousness' sake. " Hereupon Mr. Ward struck his cane smartly on thefloor, and, looking severely at my brother, bade him beware how he didjustify these canting and false pretenders. "They are, " he said, "either sad knaves, or silly enthusiasts, --they pretend to DivineRevelation, and set up as prophets; like the Rosicrucians and Gnostics, they profess to a knowledge of things beyond what plain Scripturereveals. The best that can be said of them is, that they are befooledby their own fancies, and the victims of distempered brains and illhabits of body. Then their ranting against the Gospel order of theChurch, and against the ministers of Christ, calling us all manner ofhirelings, wolves, and hypocrites; belching out their blasphemiesagainst the ordinances and the wholesome laws of the land for thesupport of a sound ministry and faith, do altogether justify the sharptreatment they have met with; so that, if they have not all lost theirears, they may thank our clemency rather than their own worthiness towear them. I do not judge of them ignorantly, for I have dipped intotheir books, where, what is not downright blasphemy and heresy, ismystical and cabalistic. They affect a cloudy and canting style, as ifto keep themselves from being confuted by keeping themselves from beingunderstood. Their divinity is a riddle, a piece of black art; theScripture they turn into allegory and parabolical conceits, and thusobscure and debauch the truth. Argue with them, and they fall todivining; reason with them, and they straightway prophesy. Then theirsilent meetings, so called, in the which they do pretend to justifythemselves by quoting Revelation, 'There was silence in heaven;' whereasthey might find other authorities, --as, for instance in Psalm 115, wherehell is expressed by silence, and in the Gospel, where we read of a dumbdevil. As to persecuting these people, we have been quite toocharitable to them, especially of late, and they are getting bolder inconsequence; as, for example, the behavior of that shameless young wenchin Newbury, who disturbed Brother Richardson's church with her anticsnot long ago. She should have been tied to the cart-tail and whippedall the way to Rhode Island. "

"Do you speak of Margaret Brewster?" asked Leonard, his face alla-crimson, and his lip quivering. "Let me tell you, Mr. Ward, that yougreatly wrong one of Christ's little ones. " And he called me to testifyto her goodness and charity, and the blamelessness of her life. 

"Don't talk to me of the blameless life of such an one, " said Mr. Ward, in aloud, angry tone; "it is the Devil's varnish for heresy. TheManichees, and the Pelagians, and Socinians, all did profess greatstrictness and sanctity of life; and there never was heretic yet, fromthey whom the Apostle makes mention of, who fasted from meats, givingheed to seducing spirits and doctrines of devils, down to the Quakers, Dippers, and New Lights of this generation who have not, like theirfathers of old, put on the shape of Angels of Light, and lived severeand over-strict lives. I grant that the Quakers are honest in theirdealings, making great show of sobriety and self-denial, and abhor thepractice of scandalous vices, being temperate, chaste, and grave intheir behavior, and thereby they win upon unstable souls, and makeplausible their damnable heresies. I warn you, young man, to take heedof them, lest you be ensnared and drawn into their way. "

My brother was about to reply, but, seeing Mr. Ward so moved and vexed, I begged of him to say no more; and, company coming in, the matter wasdropped, to my great joy. I went back much troubled and disquieted formy brother's sake. 

November 28, 1678. 

Leonard hath left Mr. Ward, and given up the thought of fitting for theministry. This will be a heavy blow for his friends in England. Hetells me that Mr. Ward spake angrily to him after I left, but that, whenhe come to part with him, the old man wept over him, and prayed that theLord would enable him to see his error, and preserve him from theconsequences thereof. I have discoursed with my brother touching hisfuture course of life, and he tells me he shall start in a day or two tovisit the Rhode Island, where he hath an acquaintance, one Mr. Easton, formerly of Newbury. His design is to purchase a small plantationthere, and betake himself to fanning, of the which he hath some littleknowledge, believing that he can be as happy and do as much good to hisfellow-creatures in that employment as in any other. 

Here Cousin Rebecca, who was by, looking up with that sweet archnesswhich doth so well become her, queried with him whether he did think tolive alone on his plantation like a hermit, or whether he had not hiseye upon a certain fair-haired young woman, as suitable to keep himcompany. Whereat he seemed a little disturbed; but she bade him notthink her against his prospect, for she had known for some weeks that hedid favor the Young Brewster woman, who, setting aside her enthusiasticnotions of religion, was worthy of any man's love; and turning to me, she begged of me to look at the matter as she did, and not set myselfagainst the choice of my brother, which, in all respects save the oneshe had spoken of, she could approve with all her heart. Leonard goesback with us o-morrow to Newbury, so I shall have a chance of knowinghow matters stand with him. The thought of his marrying a Quaker wouldhave been exceedingly grievous to me a few months ago; but this MargaretBrewster hath greatly won upon me by her beauty, gentleness, and hergoodness of heart; and, besides, I know that she is much esteemed by thebest sort of people in her neighborhood. 

Doctor Thompson left this morning, but his friend Doctor Clark goes withus to Newbury. Rebecca found in her work-basket, after he had gone, some verses, which amused us not a little, and which I here copy. 

 "Gone hath the Spring, with all its flowers, And gone the Summer's pomp and show And Autumn in his leafless bowers Is waiting for the Winter's snow. 

 "I said to Earth, so cold and gray, 'An emblem of myself thou art:' 'Not so, ' the earth did seem to say, 'For Spring shall warm my frozen heart. 

 "'I soothe my wintry sleep with dreams Of warmer sun and softer rain, And wait to hear the sound of streams And songs of merry birds again. 

 "'But thou, from whom the Spring hath gone, For whom the flowers no longer blow, Who standest, blighted and forlorn, Like Autumn waiting for the snow. 

 "'No hope is thine of sunnier hours, Thy winter shall no more depart; No Spring revive thy wasted flowers, Nor Summer warm thy frozen heart. '"

Doctor Clark, on hearing this read, told Rebecca she need not take itsmelancholy to heart, for he could assure her that there was no danger ofhis friend's acting on her account the sad part of the lover in the oldsong of Barbara Allen. As a medical man, he could safely warrant him tobe heart-whole; and the company could bear him witness, that the poethimself seemed very little like the despairing one depicted in hisverses. 

The Indian Simon calling this forenoon, Rebecca and I went into thekitchen to see him. He looks fierce and cruel, but he thanked MadainSaltonstall for her gifts of food and clothing, and, giving her inreturn a little basket wrought of curiously stained stuff, he told herthat if there were more like her, his heart would not be so bitter. 

I ventured to ask him why he felt thus; whereupon he drew himself up, and, sweeping about him with his arms, said: "This all Indian land. TheGreat Spirit made it for Indians. He made the great river for them, andbirch-trees to make their canoes of. All the fish in the ponds, and allthe pigeons and deer and squirrels he made for Indians. He made landfor white men too; but they left it, and took Indian's land, because itwas better. My father was a chief; he had plenty meat and corn in hiswigwam. But Simon is a dog. When they fight Eastern Indians, I try tolive in peace; but they say, Simon, you rogue, you no go into woods tohunt; you keep at home. So when squaw like to starve, I shoot one oftheir hogs, and then they whip me. Look!" And he lifted the blanketoff from his shoulder, and showed the marks of the whip thereon. 

"Well, well, Simon, " said Mr. Saltonstall, "you do know that our peoplethen were much frightened by what the Indians had done in other places, and they feared you would join them. But it is all over now, and youhave all the woods to yourself to range in; and if you would let alonestrong drink, you would do well. "

"Who makes strong drink?" asked the Indian, with an ugly look. "Whotakes the Indian's beaver-skins and corn for it? Tell me that, Captain. "

So saying, he put his pack on his back, and calling a poor, lean dog, that was poking his hungry nose into Madam's pots and kettles, he wentoff talking to himself. 

NEWBURY, December 6. 

We got back from Haverhill last night, Doctor Clark accompanying us, he having business in Newbury. When we came up to the door, Effie metus with a shy look, and told her mistress that Mrs. Prudence (uncle'sspinster cousin) had got a braw auld wooer in the east room; and surelyenough we found our ancient kinswoman and Deacon Dole, a widower ofthree years' standing, sitting at the supper-table. We did take notethat the Deacon had on a stiff new coat; and as for Aunt Prudence (forso she was called in the family), she was clad in her bravest, with afine cap on her head. They both did seem a little disturbed by ourcoming, but plates being laid for us, we sat down with them. Aftersupper, Rebecca had a fire kindled in uncle's room, whither we didbetake ourselves; and being very merry at the thought of Deacon Dole'svisit, it chanced to enter our silly heads that it would do no harm tostop the clock in the entry a while, and let the two old folks make along evening of it. After a time Rebecca made an errand into the eastroom, to see how matters went, and coming back, said the twain weresitting on the same settle by the fire, smoking--a pipe of tobaccotogether. Moreover, our foolish trick did work well, for Aunt Prudencecoming at last into the entry to look at the clock, we heard her tellthe Deacon that it was only a little past eight, when in truth it wasnear ten. Not long after there was a loud knocking at the door, and asEffie had gone to bed, Rebecca did open it, when, whom did she see butthe Widow Hepsy Barnet, Deacon Dole's housekeeper, and with her theDeacon's son, Moses, and the minister, Mr. Richardson, with a lantern inhis hand! "Dear me, " says the woman, looking very dismal, "have youseen anything of the Deacon?" By this time we were all at the door, theDeacon and Aunt Prudence among the rest, when Moses, like a great loutas he is, pulled off his woollen cap and tossed it up in the air, cryingout, "There, Goody Barnet, did n't I tell ye so! There's father now!"And the widow, holding up both her hands, said she never did in all herborn days see the like of this, a man of the Deacon's years and stationstealing away without letting folks know where to look for him; and thenturning upon poor Mrs. Prudence, she said she had long known that somefolks were sly and artful, and she was glad Mr. Richardson was here tosee for himself. Whereupon Aunt Prudence, in much amazement, said, itwas scarce past eight, as they might see by the clock; but Mr. Richardson, who could scarce keep a grave face, pulling out his watch, said it was past ten, and bade her note that the clock was stopped. Hetold Deacon Dole, that seeing Goody Barnet so troubled about him, he hadoffered to go along with her a little way, and that he was glad to findthat the fault was in the clock. The Deacon, who had stood like one ina maze, here clapped on his hat, and snatched up his cane and went off, looking as guilty as if he had been caught a-housebreaking, the widowscolding him all the way. Now, as we could scarce refrain fromlaughing, Mr. Richardson, who tarried a moment, shook his head atRebecca, telling her he feared by her looks she was a naughty girl, taking pleasure in other folk's trouble. We did both feel ashamed andsorry enough for our mischief, after it was all over; and poor MistressPrudence is so sorely mortified, that she told Rebecca this morning notto mention Deacon Dole's name to her again, and that Widow Hepsy iswelcome to him, since he is so mean-spirited as to let her rule himas she doth. 

December 8. 

Yesterday I did, at my brother's wish, go with him to Goodman Brewster'shouse, where I was kindly welcomed by the young woman and her parents. After some little tarry, I found means to speak privily with hertouching my brother's regard for her, and to assure her that I did trulyand freely consent thereunto; while I did hope, for his sake as well asher own, that she would, as far as might be consistent with her notionof duty, forbear to do or say anything which might bring her intotrouble with the magistrates and those in authority. She said that shewas very grateful for my kindness towards her, and that what I said wasa great relief to her mind; for when she first met my brother, she didfear that his kindness and sympathy would prove a snare to her; and thatshe had been sorely troubled, moreover, lest by encouraging him sheshould not only do violence to her own conscience, but also bringtrouble and disgrace upon one who was, she did confess, dear unto her, not only as respects outward things, but by reason of what she diddiscern of an innocent and pure inward life in his conversation anddeportment. She had earnestly sought to conform her conduct in this, as in all things, to the mind of her Divine Master; and, as respected mycaution touching those in authority, she knew not what the Lord mightrequire of her, and she could only leave all in His hands, beingresigned even to deny herself of the sweet solace of human affection, and to take up the cross daily, if He did so will. "Thy visit and kindwords, " she continued, "have removed a great weight from me. The wayseems more open before me. The Lord bless thee for thy kindness. "

She said this with so much tenderness of spirit, and withal with such anengaging sweetness of look and voice, that I was greatly moved, and, pressing her in my arms, I kissed her, and bade her look upon me as herdear sister. 

The family pressing us, we stayed to supper, and sitting down in silenceat the table, I was about to speak to my brother, but he made a sign tocheck me, and I held my peace, although not then knowing wherefore. Sowe all sat still for a little space of time, which I afterwards found isthe manner of these people at their meat. The supper was plain, but ofexceeding good relish: warm rye loaves with butter and honey, and bowlsof sweet milk, and roasted apples. Goodwife Brewster, who appeared muchabove her husband (who is a plain, unlearned man) in her carriage anddiscourse, talked with us very pleasantly, and Margaret seemed to growmore at ease, the longer we stayed. 

On our way back we met Robert Pike, who hath returned from the eastward. He said Rebecca Rawson had just told him how matters stood with Leonard, and that he was greatly rejoiced to hear of his prospect. He had knownMargaret Brewster from a child, and there was scarce her equal in theseparts for sweetness of temper and loveliness of person and mind; and, were she ten times a Quaker, he was free to say this in her behalf. I am more and more confirmed in the belief that Leonard hath not doneunwisely in this matter, and do cheerfully accept of his choice, believing it to be in the ordering of Him who doeth all things well. 

BOSTON, December 31. 

It wanteth but two hours to the midnight, and the end of the year. Thefamily are all abed, and I can hear nothing save the crackling of thefire now burning low on the hearth, and the ticking of the clock in thecorner. The weather being sharp with frost, there is no one stirring inthe streets, and the trees and bushes in the yard, being stripped oftheir leaves, look dismal enough above the white snow with which theground is covered, so that one would think that all things must needsdie with the year. But, from my window, I can see the stars shiningwith marvellous brightness in the clear sky, and the sight thereof dothassure me that God still watcheth over the work of His hands, and thatin due season He will cause the flowers to appear on the earth, and thetime of singing-birds to come, and-the voice of the turtle to be heardin the land. And I have been led, while alone here, to think of themany mercies which have been vouchsafed unto me in my travels andsojourn in a strange land, and a sense of the wonderful goodness of Godtowards me, and they who are dear unto me, both here and elsewhere, hathfilled mine heart with thankfulness; and as of old time they did use toset up stones of memorial on the banks of deliverance, so would I atthis season set up, as it were, in my poor journal, a like pillar ofthanksgiving to the praise and honor of Him who hath so kindly cared forHis unworthy handmaid. 

January 16, 1679. 

Have just got back from Reading, a small town ten or twelve miles out ofBoston, whither I went along with mine Uncle and Aunt Rawson, and manyothers, to attend the ordination of Mr. Brock, in the place of theworthy Mr. Hough, lately deceased. The weather being clear, and thetravelling good, a great concourse of people got together. We stoppedat the ordinary, which we found wellnigh filled; but uncle, by dint ofscolding and coaxing, got a small room for aunt and myself, with a cleanbed, which was more than we had reason to hope for. The ministers, ofwhom there were many and of note (Mr. Mather and Mr. Wilson of Boston, and Mr. Corbet of Ipswich, being among them), were already together atthe house of one of the deacons. It was quite a sight the next morningto see the people coming in from the neighboring towns, and to notetheir odd dresses, which were indeed of all kinds, from silks andvelvets to coarsest homespun woollens, dyed with hemlock, or oil-nutbark, and fitting so ill that, if they had all cast their clothes into aheap, and then each snatched up whatsoever coat or gown came to hand, they could not have suited worse. Yet they were all clean and tidy, andthe young people especially did look exceeding happy, it being with thema famous holiday. The young men came with their sisters or theirsweethearts riding behind them on pillions; and the ordinary and all thehouses about were soon noisy enough with merry talking and laughter. The meeting-house was filled long before the services did begin. Therewas a goodly show of honorable people in the forward seats, and amongthem that venerable magistrate, Simon Broadstreet, who acteth as Deputy-Governor since the death of Mr. Leverett; the Honorable Thomas Danforth;Mr. William Brown of Salem; and others of note, whose names I do notremember, all with their wives and families, bravely apparelled. TheSermon was preached by Mr. Higginson of Salem, the Charge was given byMr. Phillips of Rowley, and the Right Hand of Fellowship by Mr. Corbetof Ipswich. When we got back to our inn, we found a great crowd ofyoung roysterers in the yard, who had got Mr. Corbet's negro man, Sam, on the top of a barrel, with a bit of leather, cut in the shape ofspectacles, astride of his nose, where he stood swinging his arms, andpreaching, after the manner of his master, mimicking his tone and mannervery shrewdly, to the great delight and merriment of the young rogueswho did set him on. We stood in the door a while to hear him, and, tosay the truth, he did wonderfully well, being a fellow of good parts andmuch humor. But, just as he was describing the Devil, and telling hisgrinning hearers that he was not like a black but a white man, old Mr. Corbet, who had come up behind him, gave him a smart blow with his cane, whereupon Sam cried, --

"Dare he be now!" at which all fell to laughing. 

"You rascal, " said Mr. Corbet, "get down with you; I'll teach you tocompare me to the Devil. "

"Beg pardon, massa!" said Sam, getting down from his pulpit, and rubbinghis shoulder. "How you think Sam know you? He see nothing; he onlyfeel de lick. "

"You shall feel it again, " said his master, striking at him a greatblow, which Sam dodged. 

"Nay, Brother Corbet, " said Mr. Phillips, who was with him, "Sam'smistake was not so strange after all; for if Satan can transform himselfinto an Angel of Light, why not into the likeness of such unworthyministers as you and I. "

This put the old minister in a good humor, and Sam escaped withoutfarther punishment than a grave admonition to behave more reverently forthe future. Mr. Phillips, seeing some of his young people in the crowd, did sharply rebuke them for their folly, at which they were not a littleabashed. 

The inn being greatly crowded, and not a little noisy, we were notunwilling to accept the invitation of the provider of the ordination-dinner, to sit down with the honored guests thereat. I waited, withothers of the younger class, until the ministers and elderly people hadmade an end of their meal. Among those who sat at the second table wasa pert, talkative lad, a son of Mr. Increase Mather, who, although butsixteen years of age, graduated at the Harvard College last year, andhath the reputation of good scholarship and lively wit. He told somerare stories concerning Mr. Brock, the minister ordained, and of themarvellous efficacy of his prayers. He mentioned, among other things, that, when Mr. Brock lived on the Isles of Shoals, he persuaded thepeople there to agree to spend one day in a month, beside the Sabhath, in religious worship. Now, it so chanced that there was on one occasiona long season of stormy, rough weather, unsuitable for fishing; and whenthe day came which had been set apart, it proved so exceeding fair, thathis congregation did desire him to put off the meeting, that they mightfish. Mr. Brock tried in vain to reason with them, and show the duty ofseeking first the kingdom of God, when all other things should be addedthereto, but the major part determined to leave the meeting. Thereuponhe cried out after them: "As for you who will neglect God's worship, go, and catch fish if you can. " There were thirty men who thus left, andonly five remained behind, and to these he said: "I will pray the Lordfor you, that you may catch fish till you are weary. " And it so fellout, that the thirty toiled all day, and caught only four fishes; whilethe five who stayed at meeting went out, after the worship was over, andcaught five hundred; and ever afterwards the fishermen attended all themeetings of the minister's appointing. At another time, a poor man, whohad made himself useful in carrying people to meeting in his boat, lostthe same in a storm, and came lamenting his loss to Mr. Brock. "Gohome, honest man, " said the minister. "I will mention your case to theLord: you will have your boat again to-morrow. " And surely enough, thevery next day, a vessel pulling up its anchor near where the boat sank, drew up the poor man's boat, safe and whole, after it. 

We went back to Boston after dinner, but it was somewhat of a cold ride, especially after the night set in, a keen northerly wind blowing ingreat gusts, which did wellnigh benumb us. A little way from Reading, we overtook an old couple in the road; the man had fallen off his horse, and his wife was trying to get him up again to no purpose; so young Mr. Richards, who was with us, helped him up to the saddle again, tellinghis wife to hold him carefully, as her old man had drank too much flip. Thereupon the good wife set upon him with a vile tongue, telling himthat her old man was none other than Deacon Rogers of Wenham, and asgood and as pious a saint as there was out of heaven; and it did illbecome a young, saucy rake and knave to accuse him of drunkenness, andit would be no more than his deserts if the bears did eat him before hegot to Boston. As it was quite clear that the woman herself had had ataste of the mug, we left them and rode on, she fairly scolding us outof hearing. When we got home, we found Cousin Rebecca, whom we didleave ill with a cold, much better in health, sitting up and awaitingus. 

January 21, 1679. 

Uncle Rawson came home to-day in a great passion, and, calling me tohim, he asked me if I too was going to turn Quaker, and fall toprophesying? Whereat I was not a little amazed; and when I asked himwhat he did mean, he said: "Your brother Leonard hath gone off to them, and I dare say you will follow, if one of the ranters should take itinto his head that you would make him a proper wife, or company-keeper, for there's never an honest marriage among them. " Then looking sternlyat me, he asked me why I did keep this matter from him, and thus allowthe foolish young man to get entangled in the snares of Satan. WhereatI was so greatly grieved, that I could answer never a word. 

"You may well weep, " said my uncle, "for you have done wickedly. As toyour brother, he will do well to keep where he is in the plantations;for if he come hither a theeing and thouing of me, I will spare himnever a whit; and if I do not chastise him myself, it will be becausethe constable can do it better at the cart-tail. As the Lord lives, Ihad rather he had turned Turk!"

I tried to say a word for my brother, but he cut me straightway short, bidding me not to mention his name again in his presence. Poor me! Ihave none here now to whom I can speak freely, Rebecca having gone toher sister's at Weymouth. My young cousin Grindall is below, with hiscollege friend, Cotton Mather; but I care not to listen to theirdiscourse, and aunt is busied with her servants in the kitchen, so thatI must even sit alone with my thoughts, which be indeed but sad company. 

The little book which I brought with me from the Maine, it being thegift of young Mr. Jordan, and which I have kept close hidden in mytrunk, hath been no small consolation to me this day, for it aboundethin sweet and goodly thoughts, although he who did write it was a monk. Especially in my low state, have these words been a comfort to me:--

"What thou canst not amend in thyself or others, bear thou with patienceuntil God ordaineth otherwise. When comfort is taken away, do notpresently despair. Stand with an even mind resigned to the will of God, whatever shall befall, because after winter cometh the summer; after thedark night the day shineth, and after the storm followeth a great calm. Seek not for consolation which shall rob thee of the grace of penitence;for all that is high is not holy, nor all that is pleasant good; norevery desire pure; nor is what is pleasing to us always pleasant in thesight of God. "

January 23. 

The weather is bitter cold, and a great snow on the ground. By a letterfrom Newbury, brought me by Mr. Sewall, who hath just returned from thatplace, I hear that Goodwife Morse hath been bound for trial as a witch. Mr. Sewall tells me the woman is now in the Boston jail. As to CalebPowell, he hath been set at liberty, there being no proof of his evilpractice. Yet inasmuch as he did give grounds of suspicion by boastingof his skill in astrology and astronomy, the Court declared that hejustly deserves to bear his own shame and the costs of his prosecutionand lodging in jail. 

Mr. Sewall tells me that Deacon Dole has just married his housekeeper, Widow Barnet, and that Moses says he never knew before his father to getthe worst in a bargain. 

January 30. 

Robert Pike called this morning, bringing me a letter from my brother, and one from Margaret Brewster. He hath been to the ProvidencePlantations and Rhode Island, and reporteth well of the prospects of mybrother, who hath a goodly farm, and a house nigh upon finished, theneighbors, being mostly Quakers, assisting him much therein. Mybrother's letter doth confirm this account of his temporal condition, although a great part of it is taken up with a defence of his newdoctrines, for the which he doth ingeniously bring to mind many passagesof Scripture. Margaret's letter being short, I here copy it:--

THE PLANTATIONS, 20th of the 1st mo. , 1679. 

"DEAR FRIEND, --I salute thee with much love from this new country, wherethe Lord hath spread a table for us in the wilderness. Here is a goodlycompany of Friends, who do seek to know the mind of Truth, and to livethereby, being held in favor and esteem by the rulers of the land, andso left in peace to worship God according to their consciences. Thewhole country being covered with snow, and the weather being extremecold, we can scarce say much of the natural gifts and advantages of ournew home; but it lieth on a small river, and there be fertile meadows, and old corn-fields of the Indians, and good springs of water, so that Iam told it is a desirable and pleasing place in the warm season. Mysoul is full of thankfulness, and a sweet inward peace is my portion. Hard things are made easy to me; this desert place, with its lonelywoods and wintry snows, is beautiful in mine eyes. For here we be nolonger gazing-stocks of the rude multitude, we are no longer haled fromour meetings, and railed upon as witches and possessed people. Oh, howoften have we been called upon heretofore to repeat the prayer of oneformerly: 'Let me not fall into the hands of man. ' Sweet, beyond thepower of words to express, hath been the change in this respect; and inview of the mercies vouchsafed unto us, what can we do but repeat thelanguage of David, 'Praise is comely yea, a joyful and pleasant thing itis to be thankful. It is a good thing to give thanks unto the Lord, tosing praises unto thy name, O Most High! to show forth thy loving-kindness in the morning, and thy faithfulness every night. '

"Thou hast doubtless heard that thy dear brother hath been favored tosee the way of truth, according to our persuasion thereof, and hath beenreceived into fellowship with us. I fear this hath been a trial tothee; but, dear heart, leave it in the hands of the Lord, whose work Ido indeed count it. Nor needest thou to fear that thy brother's regardfor thee will be lessened thereby, for the rather shall it be increasedby a measure of that Divine love which, so far from destroying, doth butpurify and strengthen the natural affections. 

"Think, then, kindly of thy brother, for his love towards thee is verygreat; and of me, also, unworthy as I am, for his sake. And so, withsalutations of love and peace, in which my dear mother joins, I remainthy loving friend, MARGARET BREWSTER. 

"The Morse woman, I hear, is in your jail, to be tried for a witch. Sheis a poor, weak creature, but I know no harm of her, and do believe herto be more silly than wicked in the matter of the troubles in her house. I fear she will suffer much at this cold season in the jail, she beingold and weakly, and must needs entreat thee to inquire into hercondition. "M. B. "

February 10. 

Speaking of Goody Morse to-day, Uncle Rawson says she will, he thinks, be adjudged a witch, as there be many witnesses from Newbury to testifyagainst her. Aunt sent the old creature some warm blankets and othernecessaries, which she stood much in need of, and Rebecca and I alteredone of aunt's old gowns for her to wear, as she hath nothing seemly ofher own. Mr. Richardson, her minister, hath visited her twice since shehath been in jail; but he saith she is hardened in her sin, and willconfess nothing thereof. 

February 14. The famous Mr. John Eliot, having business with my uncle, spent the lastnight with us, a truly worthy man, who, by reason of his great laborsamong the heathen Indians, may be called the chiefest of our apostles. He brought with him a young Indian lad, the son of a man of some noteamong his people, very bright and comely, and handsomely apparelledafter the fashion of his tribe. This lad hath a ready wit, readeth andwriteth, and hath some understanding of Scripture; indeed, he did repeatthe Lord's Prayer in a manner edifying to hear. 

The worshipful Major Gookins coming in to sup with us, there was muchdiscourse concerning the affairs of the Province: both the Major and hisfriend Eliot being great sticklers for the rights and liberties of thepeople, and exceeding jealous of the rule of the home government, andin this matter my uncle did quite agree with them. In a special mannerMajor Gookins did complain of the Acts of Trade, as injurious to theinterests of the Colony, and which he said ought not to be submitted to, as the laws of England were bounded by the four seas, and did not justlyreach America. He read a letter which he had from Mr. Stoughton, one ofthe agents of the Colony in England, showing how they had been put offfrom time to time, upon one excuse or another, without being able to geta hearing; and now the Popish Plot did so occupy all minds there, thatPlantation matters were sadly neglected; but this much was certain, thelaws for the regulating of trade must be consented to by theMassachusetts, if we would escape a total breach. My uncle struck hishand hard on the table at this, and said if all were of his mind theywould never heed the breach; adding, that he knew his rights as a free-born Englishman, under Magna Charta, which did declare it the privilegeof such to have a voice in the making of laws; whereas the Massachusettshad no voice in Parliament, and laws were thrust upon them by strangers. 

"For mine own part, " said Major Gookins, "I do hold our brother Eliot'sbook on the Christian Commonwealth, which the General Court did makehaste to condemn on the coming in of the king, to be a sound andseasonable treatise, notwithstanding the author himself hath in somesort disowned it. "

"I did truly condemn and deny the false and seditious doctrines chargedupon it, " said Mr. Eliot, "but for the book itself, rightly taken, andmaking allowance for some little heat of discourse and certain hastyand ill-considered words therein, I have never seen cause to repent. I quite agree with what my lamented friend and fellow-laborer, Mr. Danforth, said, when he was told that the king was to be proclaimed atBoston: 'Whatever form of government may be deduced from Scripture, thatlet us yield to for conscience' sake, not forgetting at the same timethat the Apostle hath said, if thou mayest be free use it rather. '"

My uncle said this was well spoken of Mr. Danforth, who was a worthygentleman and a true friend to the liberties of the Colony; and he askedRebecca to read some ingenious verses writ by him in one of hisalmanacs, which she had copied not long ago, wherein he compareth NewEngland to a goodly tree or plant. Whereupon, Rebecca read them asfolloweth:--

 "A skilful husbandman he was, who brought This matchless plant from far, and here hath sought A place to set it in; and for its sake The wilderness a pleasant land doth make. 

 "With pleasant aspect, Phoebus smiles upon The tender buds and blooms that hang thereon; At this tree's root Astrea sits and sings, And waters it, whence upright Justice springs, Which yearly shoots forth laws and liberties That no man's will or wit may tyrannize. Those birds of prey that sometime have oppressed And stained the country with their filthy nest, Justice abhors, and one day hopes to find A way, to make all promise-breakers grind. On this tree's top hangs pleasant Liberty, Not seen in Austria, France, Spain, Italy. True Liberty 's there ripe, where all confess They may do what they will, save wickedness. Peace is another fruit which this tree bears, The chiefest garland that the country wears, Which o'er all house-tops, towns, and fields doth spread, And stuffs the pillow for each weary head. It bloomed in Europe once, but now 't is gone, And glad to find a desert mansion. Forsaken Truth, Time's daughter, groweth here, -- More precious fruit what tree did ever bear, -- Whose pleasant sight aloft hath many fed, And what falls down knocks Error on the head. "

After a little time, Rebecca found means to draw the good Mr. Eliot intosome account of his labors and journeys among the Indians, and of theirmanner of life, ceremonies, and traditions, telling him that I was astranger in these parts, and curious concerning such matters. So he didaddress himself to me very kindly, answering such questions as Iventured to put to him. And first, touching the Powahs, of whom I hadheard much, he said they were manifestly witches, and such as hadfamiliar spirits; but that, since the Gospel has been preached here, their power had in a great measure gone from them. "My old friend, Passaconaway, the Chief of the Merrimac River Indians, " said he, "was, before his happy and marvellous conversion, a noted Powah and wizard. I once queried with him touching his sorceries, when he said he had donewickedly, and it was a marvel that the Lord spared his life, and did notstrike him dead with his lightnings. And when I did press him to tellme how he did become a Powah, he said he liked not to speak of it, butwould nevertheless tell me. His grandmother used to tell him manythings concerning the good and bad spirits, and in a special manner ofthe Abomako, or Chepian, who had the form of a serpent, and who was thecause of sickness and pain, and of all manner of evils. And it sochanced that on one occasion, when hunting in the wilderness, threedays' journey from home, he did lose his way, and wandered for a longtime without food, and night coming on, he thought he did hear voices ofmen talking; but, on drawing near to the place whence the noise came, hecould see nothing but the trees and rocks; and then he did see a light, as from a wigwam a little way off, but, going towards it, it moved away, and, following it, he was led into a dismal swamp, full of water, andsnakes, and briers; and being in so sad a plight, be bethought him ofall he had heard of evil demons and of Chepian, who, he doubted not wasthe cause of his trouble. At last, coming to a little knoll in theswamp, he lay down under a hemlock-tree, and being sorely tired, fellasleep. And he dreamed a dream, which was in this wise:--

"He thought he beheld a great snake crawl up out of the marsh, and standupon his tail under a tall maple-tree; and he thought the snake spake tohim, and bade him be of good cheer, for he would guide him safe out ofthe swamp, and make of him a great chief and Powah, if he would pray tohim and own him as his god. All which he did promise to do; and when heawoke in the morning, he beheld before him the maple-tree under which hehad seen the snake in his dream, and, climbing to the top of it, he sawa great distance off the smoke of a wigwam, towards which he went, andfound some of his own people cooking a plentiful meal of venison. Whenhe got back to Patucket, he told his dream to his grandmother, who wasgreatly rejoiced, and went about from wigwam to wigwam, telling thetribe that Chepian had appeared to her grandson. So they had a greatfeast and dance, and he was thenceforth looked upon as a Powah. Shortlyafter, a woman of the tribe falling sick, he was sent for to heal her, which he did by praying to Chepian and laying his hands upon her; and atdivers other times the Devil helped him in his enchantments andwitcheries. "

I asked Mr. Eliot whether he did know of any women who were Powahs. He confessed he knew none; which was the more strange, as in Christiancountries the Old Serpent did commonly find instruments of his craftamong the women. 

To my query as to what notion the heathen had of God and a future state, he said that, when he did discourse them concerning the great and trueGod, who made all things, and of heaven and hell, they would readilyconsent thereto, saying that so their fathers had taught them; but whenhe spake to them of the destruction of the world by fire, and theresurrection of the body, they would not hear to it, for they pretend tohold that the spirit of the dead man goes forthwith, after death, to thehappy hunting-grounds made for good Indians, or to the cold and drearyswamps and mountains, where the bad Indians do starve and freeze, andsuffer all manner of hardships. 

There was, Mr. Eliot told us, a famous Powah, who, coming to Punkapog, while he was at that Indian town, gave out among the people there that alittle humming-bird did come to him and peck at him when he did aughtthat was wrong, and sing sweetly to him when he did a good thing, orspake the right words; which coming to Mr. Eliot's ear, he made himconfess, in the presence of the congregation, that he did only mean, bythe figure of the bird, the sense he had of right and wrong in his ownmind. This fellow was, moreover, exceeding cunning, and did often askquestions hard to be answered touching the creation of the Devil, andthe fall of man. 

I said to him that I thought it must be a great satisfaction to him tobe permitted to witness the fruit of his long labors and sufferings inbehalf of these people, in the hopeful conversion of so many of them tothe light and knowledge of the Gospel; to which he replied that his poorlabors had been indeed greatly blest, but it was all of the Lord'sdoing, and he could truly say he felt, in view of the great wants ofthese wild people, and their darkness and misery, that he had by nomeans done all his duty towards them. He said also, that whenever hewas in danger of being puffed up with the praise of men, or the vanityof his own heart, the Lord had seen meet to abase and humble him, by thefalling back of some of his people to their old heathenish practices. The war, moreover, was a sore evil to the Indian churches, as some fewof their number were enticed by Philip to join him in his burnings andslaughterings, and this did cause even the peaceful and innocent to bevehemently suspected and cried out against as deceivers and murderers. Poor, unoffending old men, and pious women, had been shot at and killedby our soldiers, their wigwams burned, their families scattered, anddriven to seek shelter with the enemy; yea, many Christian Indians, hedid believe, had been sold as slaves to the Barbadoes, which he didaccount a great sin, and a reproach to our people. Major Gookins saidthat a better feeling towards the Indians did now prevail among thepeople; the time having been when, because of his friendliness to them, and his condemnation of their oppressors, he was cried out against andstoned in the streets, to the great hazard of his life. 

So, after some further discourse, our guests left us, Mr. Eliot kindlyinviting me to visit his Indian congregation near Boston, whereby Icould judge for myself of their condition. 

February 22, 1679. 

The weather suddenly changing from a warm rain and mist to sharp, clearcold, the trees a little way from the house did last evening so shinewith a wonderful brightness in the light of the moon, now nigh unto itsfull, that I was fain to go out upon the hill-top to admire them. Andtruly it was no mean sight to behold every small twig becrusted withice, and glittering famously like silver-work or crystal, as the rays ofthe moon did strike upon them. Moreover, the earth was covered withfrozen snow, smooth and hard like to marble, through which the longrushes, the hazels, and mulleins, and the dry blades of the grasses, didstand up bravely, bedight with frost. And, looking upward, there werethe dark tops of the evergreen trees, such as hemlocks, pines, andspruces, starred and bespangled, as if wetted with a great rain ofmolten crystal. After admiring and marvelling at this rareentertainment and show of Nature, I said it did mind me of what theSpaniards and Portuguese relate of the great Incas of Guiana, who had agarden of pleasure in the Isle of Puna, whither they were wont to betakethemselves when they would enjoy the air of the sea, in which they hadall manner of herbs and flowers, and trees curiously fashioned of goldand silver, and so burnished that their exceeding brightness did dazzlethe eyes of the beholders. 

"Nay, " said the worthy Mr. Mather, who did go with us, "it shouldrather, methinks, call to mind what the Revelator hath said of the HolyCity. I never look upon such a wonderful display of the natural worldwithout remembering the description of the glory of that city whichdescended out of heaven from God, having the glory of God, and her lightlike unto a stone most precious, even like unto a jasper stone, clear ascrystal. And the building of the wall of it was of jasper, and the citywas pure gold like unto clear glass. And the twelve gates were twelvepearls, every several gate was of one pearl, and the street of the citywas pure gold, as it were transparent glass. 

"There never was a king's palace lighted up and adorned like this, "continued Mr. Mather, as we went homewards. "It seemeth to be Godsdesign to show how that He can glorify himself in the work of His hands, even at this season of darkness and death, when all things are sealedup, and there be no flowers, nor leaves, nor ruining brooks, to speak ofHis goodness and sing forth His praises. Truly hath it been said, Greatthings doeth He, which we cannot comprehend. For He saith to the snow, Be thou on the earth; likewise to the small rain and the great rain ofHis strength. He sealeth up the hand of every man, that all men mayknow His work. Then the beasts go into their dens, and they remain intheir places. Out of the south cometh the whirlwind, and cold out ofthe north. By the breath of God is the frost given, and the breadth ofthe waters straitened. "

March 10. 

I have been now for many days afflicted with a great cold and pleurisy, although, by God's blessing on the means used, I am wellnigh free frompain, and much relieved, also, from a tedious cough. In this sickness Ihave not missed the company and kind ministering of my dear CousinRebecca, which was indeed a great comfort. She tells me to-day that thetime hath been fixed upon for her marriage with Sir Thomas, which didnot a little rejoice me, as I am to go back to mine own country in theircompany. I long exceedingly to see once again the dear friends from whomI have been separated by many months of time and a great ocean. 

Cousin Torrey, of Weymouth, coming in yesterday, brought with her a verybright and pretty Indian girl, one of Mr. Eliot's flock, of the Natickpeople. She was apparelled after the English manner, save that she woreleggings, called moccasins, in the stead of shoes, wrought over daintilywith the quills of an animal called a porcupine, and hung about withsmall black and white shells. Her hair, which was exceeding long andblack, hung straight down her back, and was parted from her forehead, and held fast by means of a strip of birch back, wrought with quills andfeathers, which did encircle her head. She speaks the English well, andcan write somewhat, as well as read. Rebecca, for my amusement, didquery much with her regarding the praying Indians; and on her desiringto know whether they did in no wise return to their old practices andworships, Wauwoonemeen (for so she was called by her people) told usthat they did still hold their Keutikaw, or Dance for the Dead; andthat the ministers, although they did not fail to discourage it, had notforbidden it altogether, inasmuch as it was but a civil custom of thepeople, and not a religious rite. This dance did usually take place atthe end of twelve moons after the death of one of their number, andfinished the mourning. The guests invited bring presents to thebereaved family, of wampum, beaver-skins, corn, and ground-nuts, andvenison. These presents are delivered to a speaker, appointed for thepurpose, who takes them, one by one, and hands them over to themourners, with a speech entreating them to be consoled by these tokensof the love of their neighbors, and to forget their sorrows. Afterwhich, they sit down to eat, and are merry together. 

Now it had so chanced that at a Keutikaw held the present winter, twomen had been taken ill, and had died the next day; and although Mr. Eliot, when he was told of it, laid the blame thereof upon their harddancing until they were in a great heat, and then running out into thesnow and sharp air to cool themselves, it was thought by many that theywere foully dealt with and poisoned. So two noted old Powahs fromWauhktukook, on the great river Connecticut, were sent for to discoverthe murderers. Then these poor heathen got together in a great wigwam, where the old wizards undertook, by their spells and incantations, toconsult the invisible powers in the matter. I asked Wauwoonemeen if sheknew how they did practise on the occasion; whereupon she said that nonebut men were allowed to be in the wigwam, but that she could hear thebeating of sticks on the ground, and the groans and howlings and dismalmutterings of the Powahs, and that she, with another young woman, venturing to peep through a hole in the back of the wigwam, saw a greatmany people sitting on the ground, and the two Powahs before the fire, jumping and smiting their breasts, and rolling their eyes veryfrightfully. 

"But what came of it?" asked Rebecca. "Did the Evil Spirit whom theythus called upon testify against himself, by telling who were hisinstruments in mischief?"

The girl said she had never heard of any discovery of the poisoners, ifindeed there were such. She told us, moreover, that many of the bestpeople in the tribe would have no part in the business, counting itsinful; and that the chief actors were much censured by the ministers, and so ashamed of it that they drove the Powahs out of the village, thewomen and boys chasing them and beating them with sticks and frozensnow, so that they had to take to the woods in a sorry plight. 

We gave the girl some small trinkets, and a fair piece of cloth for anapron, whereat she was greatly pleased. We were all charmed with hergood parts, sweetness of countenance, and discourse and ready wit, beingsatisfied thereby that Nature knoweth no difference between Europe andAmerica in blood, birth, and bodies, as we read in Acts 17 that God hathmade of one blood all mankind. I was specially minded of a saying ofthat ingenious but schismatic man, Mr. Roger Williams, in the littlebook which he put forth in England on the Indian tongue:--

 "Boast not, proud English, of thy birth and blood, Thy brother Indian is by birth as good; Of one blood God made him and thee and all, As wise, as fair, as strong, as personal. 

 "By nature wrath's his portion, thine, no more, Till grace his soul and thine in Christ restore. Make sure thy second birth, else thou shalt see Heaven ope to Indians wild, but shut to thee!"

March 15. 

One Master O'Shane, an Irish scholar, of whom my cousins here did learnthe Latin tongue, coming in last evening, and finding Rebecca and Ialone (uncle and aunt being on a visit to Mr. Atkinson's), was exceedingmerry, entertaining us rarely with his stories and songs. Rebecca tellsme he is a learned man, as I can well believe, but that he is too fondof strong drink for his good, having thereby lost the favor of many ofthe first families here, who did formerly employ him. There was oneballad, which he saith is of his own making, concerning the selling ofthe daughter of a great Irish lord as a slave in this land, whichgreatly pleased me; and on my asking for a copy of it, he brought it tome this morning, in a fair hand. I copy it in my Journal, as I knowthat Oliver, who is curious in such things, will like it. 

KATHLEEN. 

O NORAH, lay your basket down, And rest your weary hand, And come and hear me sing a songOf our old Ireland. 

There was a lord of Galaway, A mighty lord was he;And he did wed a second wife, A maid of low degree. 

But he was old, and she was young, And so, in evil spite, She baked the black bread for his kin, And fed her own with white. 

She whipped the maids and starved the kern, And drove away the poor;"Ah, woe is me!" the old lord said, "I rue my bargain sore!"

This lord he had a daughter fair, Beloved of old and young, And nightly round the shealing-firesOf her the gleeman sung. 

"As sweet and good is young KathleenAs Eve before her fall;"So sang the harper at the fair, So harped he in the hall. 

"Oh, come to me, my daughter dear!Come sit upon my knee, For looking in your face, Kathleen, Your mother's own I see!"

He smoothed and smoothed her hair away, He kissed her forehead fair;"It is my darling Mary's brow, It is my darling's hair!"

Oh, then spake up the angry dame, "Get up, get up, " quoth she, "I'll sell ye over Ireland, I'll sell ye o'er the sea!"

She clipped her glossy hair away, That none her rank might know;She took away her gown of silk, And gave her one of tow, And sent her down to Limerick townAnd to a seaman soldThis daughter of an Irish lordFor ten good pounds in gold. 

The lord he smote upon his breast, And tore his beard so gray;But he was old, and she was young, And so she had her way. 

Sure that same night the Banshee howledTo fright the evil dame, And fairy folks, who loved Kathleen, With funeral torches came. 

She watched them glancing through the trees, And glimmering down the hill;They crept before the dead-vault door, And there they all stood still!

"Get up, old man! the wake-lights shine!""Ye murthering witch, " quoth he, "So I'm rid of your tongue, I little careIf they shine for you or me. "

"Oh, whoso brings my daughter back, My gold and land shall have!"Oh, then spake up his handsome page, "No gold nor land I crave!

"But give to me your daughter dear, Give sweet Kathleen to me, Be she on sea or be she on land, I'll bring her back to thee. "

"My daughter is a lady born, And you of low degree, But she shall be your bride the dayYou bring her back to me. "

He sailed east, he sailed west, And far and long sailed he, Until he came to Boston town, Across the great salt sea. 

"Oh, have ye seen the young Kathleen, The flower of Ireland?Ye'll know her by her eyes so blue, And by her snow-white hand!"

Out spake an ancient man, "I knowThe maiden whom ye mean;I bought her of a Limerick man, And she is called Kathleen. 

"No skill hath she in household work, Her hands are soft and white, Yet well by loving looks and waysShe doth her cost requite. "

So up they walked through Boston town, And met a maiden fair, A little basket on her armSo snowy-white and bare. 

"Come hither, child, and say hast thouThis young man ever seen?"They wept within each other's arms, The page and young Kathleen. 

"Oh give to me this darling child, And take my purse of gold. ""Nay, not by me, " her master said, "Shall sweet Kathleen be sold. 

"We loved her in the place of oneThe Lord hath early ta'en;But, since her heart's in Ireland, We give her back again!"

Oh, for that same the saints in heavenFor his poor soul shall pray, And Mary Mother wash with tearsHis heresies away. 

Sure now they dwell in Ireland;As you go up ClaremoreYe'll see their castle looking downThe pleasant Galway shore. 

And the old lord's wife is dead and gone, And a happy man is he, For he sits beside his own Kathleen, With her darling on his knee. 1849. 

March 27, 1679. 

Spent the afternoon and evening yesterday at Mr. Mather's, with uncleand aunt, Rebecca and Sir Thomas, and Mr. Torrey of Weymouth, and hiswife; Mr. Thacher, the minister of the South Meeting, and Major SimonWillard of Concord, being present also. There was much discourse ofcertain Antinomians, whose loose and scandalous teachings in respect toworks were strongly condemned, although Mr. Thacher thought there mightbe danger, on the other hand, of falling into the error of theSocinians, who lay such stress upon works, that they do not scruple toundervalue and make light of faith. Mr. Torrey told of some of theAntinomians, who, being guilty of scandalous sins, did neverthelessjustify themselves, and plead that they were no longer under the law. Sir Thomas drew Rebecca and I into a corner of the room, saying he wasa-weary of so much disputation, and began relating somewhat which befellhim in a late visit to the New Haven people. Among other things, hetold us that while he was there, a maid of nineteen years was put upontrial for her life, by complaint of her parents of disobedience of theircommands, and reviling them; that at first the mother of the girl didseem to testify strongly against her; but when she had spoken a fewwords, the accused crying out with a bitter lamentation, that she shouldbe destroyed in her youth by the words of her own mother, the woman didso soften her testimony that the Court, being in doubt upon the matter, had a consultation with the ministers present, as to whether the accusedgirl had made herself justly liable to the punishment prescribed forstubborn and rebellious children in Deut. Xxi. 20, 21. It was thoughtthat this law did apply specially unto a rebellious son, according tothe words of the text, and that a daughter could not be put to deathunder it; to which the Court did assent, and the girl, after beingadmonished, was set free. Thereupon, Sir Thomas told us, she ransobbing into the arms of her mother, who did rejoice over her as oneraised from the dead, and did moreover mightily blame herself forputting her in so great peril, by complaining of her disobedienceto the magistrates. 

Major Willard, a pleasant, talkative man, being asked by Mr. Thachersome questions pertaining to his journey into the New Hampshire, in theyear '52, with the learned and pious Mr. Edward Johnson, in obedience toan order of the General Court, for the finding the northernmost part ofthe river Merrimac, gave us a little history of the same, some parts ofwhich I deemed noteworthy. The company, consisting of the twocommissioners, and two surveyors, and some Indians, as guides andhunters, started from Concord about the middle of July, and followed theriver on which Concord lies, until they came to the great Falls of theMerrimac, at Patucket, where they were kindly entertained at the wigwamof a chief Indian who dwelt there. They then went on to the Falls ofthe Amoskeag, a famous place of resort for the Indians, and encamped atthe foot of a mountain, under the shade of some great trees, where theyspent the next day, it being the Sabhath. Mr. Johnson read a portionof the Word, and a psalm was sung, the Indians sitting on the ground alittle way off, in a very reverential manner. They then went toAnnahookline, where were some Indian cornfields, and thence over a wild, hilly country, to the head of the Merrimac, at a place called by theIndians Aquedahcan, where they took an observation of the latitude, andset their names upon a great rock, with that of the worshipful Governor, John Endicott. Here was the great Lake Winnipiseogee, as large over asan English county, with many islands upon it, very green with trees andvines, and abounding with squirrels and birds. They spent two days atthe lake's outlet, one of them the Sabhath, a wonderfully still, quietday of the midsummer. "It is strange, " said the Major, "but so it is, that although a quarter of a century hath passed over me since that day, it is still very fresh and sweet in my memory. Many times, in mymusings, I seem to be once more sitting under the beechen trees ofAquedahcan, with my three English friends, and I do verily seem to seethe Indians squatted on the lake shore, round a fire, cooking theirdishes, and the smoke thereof curling about among the trees over theirheads; and beyond them is the great lake and the islands thereof, somebig and others exceeding small, and the mountains that do rise on theother side, and whose woody tops show in the still water as in a glass. And, withal, I do seem to have a sense of the smell of flowers, whichdid abound there, and of the strawberries with which the old Indiancornfield near unto us was red, they being then ripe and luscious to thetaste. It seems, also, as if I could hear the bark of my dog, and thechatter of squirrels, and the songs of the birds, in the thick woodsbehind us; and, moreover, the voice of my friend Johnson, as he did callto mind these words of the 104th Psalm: 'Bless the Lord, O my soul! whocoverest thyself with light, as with a garment; who stretchest out theheavens like a curtain; who layeth the beams of his chambers in thewaters; who maketh the clouds his chariot; and walketh upon the wings ofthe wind!' Ah me! I shall never truly hear that voice more, unless, through God's mercy, I be permitted to join the saints of light inpraise and thanksgiving beside stiller waters and among greener pasturesthan are those of Aquedahcan. "

"He was a shining light, indeed, " said Mr. Mather, "and, in view of hisloss and that of other worthies in Church and State, we may well say, asof old, Help, Lord, for the godly man ceaseth!"

Major Willard said that the works of Mr. Johnson did praise him, especially that monument of his piety and learning, "The History of NewEngland; or, Wonder-Working Providence of Sion's Saviour, " wherein hedid show himself in verse and in prose a workman not to be ashamed. There was a piece which Mr. Johnson writ upon birchen bark at the headof the Merrimac, during the journey of which he had spoken, which hadnever been printed, but which did more deserve that honor than much ofthe rhymes with which the land now aboundeth. Mr. Mather said he hadthe piece of bark then in his possession, on which Mr. Johnson didwrite; and, on our desiring to see it, he brought it to us, and, as wecould not well make out the writing thereon, he read it as followeth:--

This lonesome lake, like to a sea, among the mountains lies, And like a glass doth show their shapes, and eke the clouds and skies. God lays His chambers' beams therein, that all His power may know, And holdeth in His fist the winds, that else would mar the show. 

The Lord hath blest this wilderness with meadows, streams, and springs, And like a garden planted it with green and growing things;And filled the woods with wholesome meats, and eke with fowls the air, And sown the land with flowers and herbs, and fruits of savor rare. 

But here the nations know him not, and come and go the days, Without a morning prayer to Him, or evening song of praise;The heathen fish upon the lake, or hunt the woods for meat, And like the brutes do give no thanks for wherewithal to eat. 

They dance in shame and nakedness, with horrid yells to hear, And like to dogs they make a noise, or screeching owls anear. Each tribe, like Micah, doth its priest or cunning Powah keep;Yea, wizards who, like them of old, do mutter and do peep. 

A cursed and an evil race, whom Satan doth mislead, And rob them of Christ's hope, whereby he makes them poor indeed;They hold the waters and the hills, and clouds, and stars to beTheir gods; for, lacking faith, they do believe but what they see. 

Yet God on them His sun and rain doth evermore bestow, And ripens all their harvest-fields and pleasant fruits also. For them He makes the deer and moose, for them the fishes swim, And all the fowls in woods and air are goodly gifts from Him. 

Yea, more; for them, as for ourselves, hath Christ a ransom paid, And on Himself, their sins and ours, a common burden laid. By nature vessels of God's wrath, 't is He alone can giveTo English or to Indians wild the grace whereby we live. 

Oh, let us pray that in these wilds the Gospel may be preached, And these poor Gentiles of the woods may by its truth be reached;That ransomed ones the tidings glad may sound with joy abroad, And lonesome Aquedahcan hear the praises of the Lord!

March 18. 

My cough still troubling me, an ancient woman, coming in yesterday, didso set forth the worth and virtue of a syrup of her making, that AuntRawson sent Effie over to the woman's house for a bottle of it. Thewoman sat with us a pretty while, being a lively talking body, althoughnow wellnigh fourscore years of age. She could tell many things of theold people of Boston, for, having been in youth the wife of a man ofsome note and substance, and being herself a notable housewife and ofgood natural parts, she was well looked upon by the better sort ofpeople. After she became a widow, she was for a little time in thefamily of Governor Endicott, at Naumkeag, whom she describeth as a justand goodly man, but exceeding exact in the ordering of his household, and of fiery temper withal. When displeasured, he would pull hard atthe long tuft of hair which he wore upon his chin; and on one occasion, while sitting in the court, he plucked off his velvet cap, and cast itin the face of one of the assistants, who did profess conscientiousscruples against the putting to death of the Quakers. 

"I have heard say his hand was heavy upon these people, " I said. 

"And well it might be, " said the old woman, for more pestilent andprovoking strollers and ranters you shall never find than these sameQuakers. They were such a sore trouble to the Governor, that I dobelieve his days were shortened by reason of them. For neither thejail, nor whipping, nor cropping of ears, did suffice to rid him ofthem. At last, when a law was made by the General Court, banishing themon pain of death, the Governor, coming home from Boston, said that henow hoped to have peace in the Colony, and that this sharpness wouldkeep the land free from these troublers. I remember it well, how thenext day he did invite the ministers and chief men, and in what apleasant frame he was. In the morning I had mended his best velvetbreeches for him, and he praised my work not a little, and gave me sixshillings over and above my wages; and, says he to me: 'Goody Lake, 'says he, 'you are a worthy woman, and do feel concerned for the good ofZion, and the orderly carrying of matters in Church and State, and henceI know you will be glad to hear that, after much ado, and in spite ofthe strivings of evil-disposed people, the General Court have agreedupon a law for driving the Quakers out of the jurisdiction, on pain ofdeath; so that, if any come after this, their blood be upon their ownheads. It is what I have wrestled with the Lord for this many a month, and I do count it a great deliverance and special favor; yea, I maytruly say, with David: "Thou hast given me my heart's desire, and hastnot withholden the prayer of my lips. Thy hand shall find out all thineenemies; thou shalt make them as a fiery oven in the time of thineanger; the Lord shall wallow them up in his wrath, and the fire shalldevour them. " You will find these words, Goody Lake, ' says he, 'in the21st Psalm, where what is said of the King will serve for such as be inauthority at this time. ' For you must know, young woman, that theGovernor was mighty in Scripture, more especially in his prayers, when you could think that he had it all at his tongue's end. 

"There was a famous dinner at the Governor's that day, and many guests, and the Governor had ordered from his cellar some wine, which was a giftfrom a Portuguese captain, and of rare quality, as I know of mine owntasting, when word was sent to the Governor that a man wished to seehim, whom he bid wait awhile. After dinner was over, he went into thehall, and who should be there but Wharton, the Quaker, who, withoutpulling off his hat, or other salutation, cried out: 'John Endicott, hearken to the word of the Lord, in whose fear and dread I am come. Thou and thy evil counsellors, the priests, have framed iniquity by law, but it shall not avail you. Thus saith the Lord, Evil shall slay thewicked, and they that hate the righteous shall be desolate!' Now, whenthe Governor did hear this, he fell, as must needs be, into a rage, and, seeing me by the door, he bade me call the servants from the kitchen, which I did, and they running up, he bade them lay hands on the fellow, and take him away; and then, in a great passion, he called for hishorse, saying he would not rest until he had seen forty stripes save onelaid upon that cursed Quaker, and that he should go to the gallows yetfor his sauciness. So they had him to jail, and the next morning he wassoundly whipped, and ordered to depart the jurisdiction. "

I, being curious to know more concerning the Quakers, asked her if shedid ever talk with any of them who were dealt with by the authorities, and what they said for themselves. 

"Oh, they never lacked words, " said she, "but cried out for liberty ofconscience, and against persecution, and prophesied all manner of evilupon such as did put in force the law. Some time about the year '56, there did come two women of them to Boston, and brought with themcertain of their blasphemous books, which the constables burnt in thestreet, as I well remember by this token, that, going near the fire, andseeing one of the books not yet burnt, I stooped to pick it up, when oneof the constables gave me a smart rap with his staff, and snatched itaway. The women being sent to the jail, the Deputy-Governor, Mr. Bellingham, and the Council, thinking they might be witches, were forhaving them searched; and Madam Bellingham naming me and another womanto her husband, he sent for us, and bade us go to the jail and searchthem, to see if there was any witch-mark on their bodies. So we went, and told them our errand, at which they marvelled not a little, and oneof them, a young, well-favored woman, did entreat that they might not beput to such shame, for the jailer stood all the time in the yard, looking in at the door; but we told them such was the order, and so, without more ado, stripped them of their clothes, but found nothing savea mole on the left breast of he younger, into which Goodwife Page thrusther needle, at which the woman did give a cry as of pain, and the bloodflowed; whereas, if it had been witch's mark, she would not have feltthe prick, for would it have caused blood. So, finding nothing that didlook like witchcraft, we left them; and on being brought before theCourt, Deputy-Governor Bellingham asked us what we had to say concerningthe women. Whereupon Goodwife Page, being the oldest of us, told himthat we did find no appearance of witches upon their bodies, save themole on the younger woman's breast (which was but natural), but thatotherwise she was fair as Absalom, who had no blemish from the soles ofhis feet to the crown of his head. Thereupon the Deputy-Governordismissed us, saying that it might be that the Devil did not want themfor witches, because they could better serve him as Quakers: whereat allthe Court fell to laughing. "

"And what did become of the women?" I asked. 

"They kept them in jail awhile, " said Nurse Lake, "and then sent themback to England. But the others that followed fared harder, --somegetting whipped at the cart-tail, and others losing their ears. Thehangman's wife showed me once the ears of three of them, which herhusband cut off in the jail that very morning. "

"This is dreadful!" said I, for I thought of my dear brother and sweetMargaret Brewster, and tears filled mine eyes. 

"Nay; but they were sturdy knaves and vagabonds, " answered Nurse Lake, "although one of them was the son of a great officer in the Barbadoes, and accounted a gentleman before he did run out into his evil practices. But cropping of ears did not stop these headstrong people, and theystill coming, some were put to death. There were three of them to behanged at one time. I do remember it well, for it was a clear, warm dayabout the last of October, and it was a brave sight to behold. Therewas Marshal Michelson and Captain Oliver, with two hundred soldiersafoot, besides many on horse of our chief people, and among them theminister, Mr. Wilson, looking like a saint as he was, with a pleasantand joyful countenance, and a great multitude of people, men, women, andchildren, not only of Boston, but from he towns round about. I gotearly on to the ground, and when they were going to the gallows I keptas near to the condemned ones as I could. There were two young, well-favored men, and a woman with gray hairs. As they walked hand in band, the woman in the middle, the Marshal, who was riding beside them, andwho was a merry drolling man, asked her if she was n't ashamed to walkhand in hand between two young men; whereupon, looking upon himsolemnly, she said she was not ashamed, for this was to her an hour ofgreat joy, and that no eye could see, no ear hear, no tongue speak, andno heart understand, the sweet incomes and refreshings of the Lord'sspirit, which she did then feel. This she spake aloud, so that allabout could hear, whereat Captain Oliver bid the drums to beat and drownher voice. Now, when they did come to the gallows ladder, on each sideof which the officers and chief people stood, the two men kept on theirhats, as is the ill manner of their sort, which so provoked Mr. Wilson, the minister, that he cried out to them: 'What! shall such Jacks as youcome before authority with your hats on?' To which one of them said:'Mind you, it is for not putting off our hats that we are put to death. 'The two men then went up the ladder, and tried to speak; but I could notcatch a word, being outside of the soldiers, and much fretted andworried by the crowd. They were presently turned off, and then thewoman went up the ladder, and they tied her coats down to her feet, andput the halter on her neck, and, lacking a handkerchief to tie over herface, the minister lent the hangman his. Just then your Uncle Rawsoncomes a-riding up to the gallows, waving his hand, and crying out, 'Stop! she is reprieved!' So they took her down, although she said shewas ready to die as her brethren did, unless they would undo theirbloody laws. I heard Captain Oliver tell her it was for her son's sakethat she was spared. So they took her to jail, and after a time senther back to her husband in Rhode Island, which was a favor she did in nowise deserve; but good Governor Endicott, much as he did abhor thesepeople, sought not their lives, and spared no pains to get thempeaceably out the country; but they were a stubborn crew, and must needsrun their necks into the halter, as did this same woman; for, comingback again, under pretence of pleading for the repeal of the lawsagainst Quakers, she was not long after put to death. The excellent Mr. Wilson made a brave ballad on the hanging, which I have heard the boysin the street sing many a time. "

A great number, both men and women, were--"whipped and put in thestocks, " continued the woman, "and I once beheld two of them, one ayoung and the other an aged woman, in a cold day in winter, tied to thetail of a cart, going through Salem Street, stripped to their waists asnaked as they were born, and their backs all covered with red whip-marks; but there was a more pitiful case of one Hored Gardner, a youngmarried woman, with a little child and her nurse, who, coming toWeymouth, was laid hold of and sent to Boston, where both were whipped, and, as I was often at the jail to see the keeper's wife, it so chancedthat I was there at the time. The woman, who was young and delicate, when they were stripping her, held her little child in her arms; andwhen the jailer plucked it from her bosom, she looked round anxiously, and, seeing me, said, 'Good woman, I know thou 't have pity on thebabe, ' and asked me to hold it, which I did. She was then whipped witha threefold whip, with knots in the ends, which did tear sadly into herflesh; and, after it was over, she kneeled down, with her back allbleeding, and prayed for them she called her persecutors. I must say Idid greatly pity her, and I spoke to the jailer's wife, and we washedthe poor creature's back, and put on it some famous ointment, so thatshe soon got healed. "

Aunt Rawson now coming in, the matter was dropped; but, on my speakingto her of it after Nurse Lake had left, she said it was a sore trial tomany, even those in authority, and who were charged with the putting inforce of the laws against these people. She furthermore said, thatUncle Rawson and Mr. Broadstreet were much cried out against by theQuakers and their abettors on both sides of the water, but they did buttheir duty in the matter, and for herself she had always mourned overthe coming of these people, and was glad when the Court did set any ofthem free. When the woman was hanged, my aunt spent the whole day withMadam Broadstreet, who was so wrought upon that she was fain to take toher bed, refusing to be comforted, and counting it the heaviest day ofher life. 

"Looking out of her chamber window, " said Aunt Rawson, "I saw the peoplewho had been to the hanging coming back from the training-field; andwhen Anne Broadstreet did hear the sound of their feet in the road, shegroaned, and said that it did seem as if every foot fell upon her heart. Presently Mr. Broadstreet came home, bringing with him the minister, Mr. John Norton. They sat down in the chamber, and for some little timethere was scarce a word spoken. At length Madam Broadstreet, turning toher husband and laying her hand on his arm, as was her loving manner, asked him if it was indeed all over. 'The woman is dead, ' said he; 'butI marvel, Anne, to see you so troubled about her. Her blood is upon herown head, for we did by no means seek her life. She hath trodden underfoot our laws, and misused our great forbearance, so that we could do nootherwise than we have done. So under the Devil's delusion was she, that she wanted no minister or elder to pray with her at the gallows, but seemed to think herself sure of heaven, heeding in no wise thewarnings of Mr. Norton, and other godly people. '

"'Did she rail at, or cry out against any?' asked his wife. 'Nay, not tomy hearing, ' he said, 'but she carried herself as one who had done noharm, and who verily believed that she had obeyed the Lord's will. '

"'This is very dreadful, ' said she, 'and I pray that the death of thatpoor misled creature may not rest heavy upon us. '

"Hereupon Mr. Norton lifted up his head, which had been bowed down uponhis hand; and I shall never forget how his pale and sharp features didseem paler than their wont, and his solemn voice seemed deeper andsadder. 'Madam!' he said, 'it may well befit your gentleness andsweetness of heart to grieve over the sufferings even of the froward andungodly, when they be cut off from the congregation of the Lord, as Hisholy and just law enjoineth, for verily I also could weep for thecondemned one, as a woman and a mother; and, since her coming, I havewrestled with the Lord, in prayer and fasting, that I might be Hisinstrument in snatching her as a brand from the burning. But, as awatchman on the walls of Zion, when I did see her casting poison intothe wells of life, and enticing unstable souls into the snares andpitfalls of Satan, what should I do but sound an alarm against her? Andthe magistrate, such as your worthy husband, who is also appointed ofGod, and set for the defence of the truth, and the safety of the Churchand the State, what can he do but faithfully to execute the law of God, which is a terror to evil doers? The natural pity which we feel mustgive place unto the duty we do severally owe to God and His Church, andthe government of His appointment. It is a small matter to be judged ofman's judgment, for, though certain people have not scrupled to call mecruel and hard of heart, yet the Lord knows I have wept in secret placesover these misguided men and women. 

"'But might not life be spared?' asked Madam Broadstreet. 'Death is agreat thing. '

"'It is appointed unto all to die, ' said Mr. Norton, 'and after deathcometh the judgment. The death of these poor bodies is a bitter thing, but the death of the soul is far more dreadful; and it is better thatthese people should suffer than that hundreds of precious souls shouldbe lost through their evil communication. The care of the dear souls ofmy flock lieth heavily upon me, as many sleepless nights and days offasting do bear witness. I have not taken counsel of flesh and blood inthis grave matter, nor yielded unto the natural weakness of my heart. And while some were for sparing these workers of iniquity, even as Saulspared Agag, I have been strengthened, as it were, to hew them in piecesbefore the Lord in Gilgal. O madam, your honored husband can tell youwhat travail of spirit, what sore trials, these disturbers have cost us;and as you do know in his case, so believe also in mine, that what wehave done hath been urged, not by hardness and cruelty of heart, butrather by our love and tenderness towards the Lord's heritage in thisland. Through care and sorrow I have grown old before my time; few andevil have been the days of my pilgrimage, and the end seems not far off;and though I have many sins and shortcomings to answer for, I do humblytrust that the blood of the souls of the flock committed to me will notthen be found upon my garments. '

"Ah, me! I shall never forget these words of that godly man, " continuedmy aunt, "for, as he said, his end was not far off. He died verysuddenly, and the Quakers did not scruple to say that it was God'sjudgment upon him for his severe dealing with their people. They evengo so far as to say that the land about Boston is cursed because of thehangings and whippings, inasmuch as wheat will not now grow here, as itdid formerly, and, indeed, many, not of their way, do believe the samething. "

April 24. 

A vessel from London has just come to port, bringing Rebecca's dressesfor the wedding, which will take place about the middle of June, as Ihear. Uncle Rawson has brought me a long letter from Aunt Grindall, with one also from Oliver, pleasant and lively, like himself. Nospecial news from abroad that I hear of. My heart longs for Old Englandmore and more. 

It is supposed that the freeholders have chosen Mr. Broadstreet fortheir Governor. The vote, uncle says, is exceeding small, very fewpeople troubling themselves about it. 

May 2. 

Mr. John Easton, a man of some note in the Providence Plantations, having occasion to visit Boston yesterday, brought me a message from mybrother, to the effect that he was now married and settled, and didgreatly desire me to make the journey to his house in the company of hisfriend, John Easton, and his wife's sister. I feared to break thematter to my uncle, but Rebecca hath done so for me, and he hath, to mygreat joy, consented thereto; for, indeed, he refuseth nothing to her. My aunt fears for me, that I shall suffer from the cold, as the weatheris by no means settled, although the season is forward, as compared withthe last; but I shall take good care as to clothing; and John Eastonsaith we shall be but two nights on the way. 

THE PLANTATIONS, May 10, 1679. 

We left Boston on the 4th, at about sunrise, and rode on at a brisktrot, until we came to the banks of the river, along which we went neara mile before we found a suitable ford, and even there the water was sodeep that we only did escape a wetting by drawing our feet up to thesaddle-trees. About noon, we stopped at a farmer's house, in the hopeof getting a dinner; but the room was dirty as an Indian wigwam, withtwo children in it, sick with the measles, and the woman herself in apoor way, and we were glad to leave as soon as possible, and get intothe fresh air again. Aunt had provided me with some cakes, and Mr. Easton, who is an old traveller, had with him a roasted fowl and a goodloaf of Indian bread; so, coming to a spring of excellent water, we gotoff our horses, and, spreading our napkins on the grass and dry leaves, had a comfortable dinner. John's sister is a widow, a lively, merrywoman, and proved rare company for me. Afterwards we rode until the sunwas nigh setting, when we came to a little hut on the shore of a broadlake at a place called Massapog. It had been dwelt in by a white familyformerly, but it was now empty, and much decayed in the roof, and as wedid ride up to it we saw a wild animal of some sort leap out of one ofits windows, and run into the pines. Here Mr. Easton said we must makeshift to tarry through the night, as it was many miles to the house of awhite man. So, getting off our horses, we went into the hut, which hadbut one room, with loose boards for a floor; and as we sat there in thetwilight, it looked dismal enough; but presently Mr. Easton, coming inwith a great load of dried boughs, struck a light in the stonefireplace, and we soon had a roaring fire. His sister broke off somehemlock boughs near the door, and made a broom of them, with which sheswept up the floor, so that when we sat down on blocks by the hearth, eating our poor supper, we thought ourselves quite comfortable and tidy. It was a wonderful clear night, the moon rising, as we judged, abouteight of the clock, over the tops of the hills on the easterly side ofthe lake, and shining brightly on the water in a long line of light, asif a silver bridge had been laid across it. Looking out into theforest, we could see the beams of the moon, falling here and therethrough the thick tops of the pines and hemlocks, and showing their talltrunks, like so many pillars in a church or temple. There was awesterly wind blowing, not steadily, but in long gusts, which, soundingfrom a great distance through the pine leaves, did make a solemn and notunpleasing music, to which I listened at the door until the cold droveme in for shelter. Our horses having been fed with corn, which Mr. Easton took with him, were tied at the back of the building, under thecover of a thick growth of hemlocks, which served to break off the nightwind. The widow and I had a comfortable bed in the corner of the room, which we made of small hemlock sprigs, having our cloaks to cover us, and our saddlebags for pillows. My companions were soon asleep, but theexceeding strangeness of my situation did keep me a long time awake. For, as I lay there looking upward, I could see the stars shining down agreat hole in the roof, and the moonlight streaming through the seams ofthe logs, and mingling with the red glow of the coals on the hearth. Icould hear the horses stamping, just outside, and the sound of the wateron the lake shore, the cry of wild animals in the depth of the woods, and, over all, the long and very wonderful murmur of the pines in thewind. At last, being sore weary, I fell asleep, and waked not until Ifelt the warm sun shining in my face, and heard the voice of Mr. Eastonbidding me rise, as the horses were ready. 

After riding about two hours we came upon an Indian camp, in the midstof a thick wood of maples. Here were six spacious wigwams; but the menwere away, except two very old and infirm ones. There were five or sixwomen, and perhaps twice as many children, who all came out to see us. They brought us some dried meat, as hard nigh upon as chips of wood, andwhich, although hungry, I could feel no stomach for; but I bought of oneof the squaws two great cakes of sugar, made from the sap of the mapleswhich abound there, very pure and sweet, and which served me instead oftheir unsavory meat and cakes of pounded corn, of which Mr. Easton andhis sister did not scruple to partake. Leaving them, we had a long andhard ride to a place called Winnicinnit, where, to my great joy, wefound a comfortable house and Christian people, with whom we tarried. The next day we got to the Plantations; and about noon, from the top ofa hill, Mr. Easton pointed out the settlement where my brother dwelt, --a fair, pleasant valley, through which ran a small river, with thehouses of the planters on either side. Shortly after, we came to a newframe house, with a great oak-tree left standing on each side of thegate, and a broad meadow before it, stretching down to the water. HereMr. Easton stopped; and now, who should come hastening down to us but mynew sister, Margaret, in her plain but comely dress, kindly welcomingme; and soon my brother came up from the meadow, where he was busy withhis men. It was indeed a joyful meeting. 

The next day being the Sabhath, I went with my brother and his wife tothe meeting, which was held in a large house of one of their Quakerneighbors. About a score of grave, decent people did meet there, sitting still and quiet for a pretty while, when one of their number, a venerable man, spake a few words, mostly Scripture; then a youngwoman, who, I did afterwards learn, had been hardly treated by thePlymouth people, did offer a few words of encouragement and exhortationfrom this portion of the 34th Psalm: "The angel of the Lord encampethround about them that fear him, and delivereth them. " When the meetingwas over, some of the ancient women came and spake kindly to me, inviting me to their houses. In the evening certain of these peoplecame to my brother's, and were kind and loving towards me. There was, nevertheless, a gravity and a certain staidness of deportment which Icould but ill conform unto, and I was not sorry when they took leave. My Uncle Rawson need not fear my joining with them; for, although I dojudge them to be a worthy and pious people, I like not their manner ofworship, and their great gravity and soberness do little accord with mynatural temper and spirits. 

May 16. 

This place is in what is called the Narragansett country, and abouttwenty miles from Mr. Williams's town of Providence, a place of no smallnote. Mr. Williams, who is now an aged man, more than fourscore, wasthe founder of the Province, and is held in great esteem by the people, who be of all sects and persuasions, as the Government doth not molestany in worshipping according to conscience; and hence you will see inthe same neighborhood Anabaptists, Quakers, New Lights, Brownists, Antinomians, and Socinians, --nay, I am told there be Papists also. Mr. Williams is a Baptist, and holdeth mainly with Calvin and Beza, asrespects the decrees, and hath been a bitter reviler of the Quakers, although he hath ofttimes sheltered them from the rigor of theMassachusetts Bay magistrates, who he saith have no warrant to deal inmatters of conscience and religion, as they have done. 

Yesterday came the Governor of the Rhode Island, Nicholas Easton, thefather of John, with his youngest daughter Mary, as fair and as ladylikea person as I have seen for many a day. Both her father and herself domeet with the "Friends, " as they call themselves, at their great houseon the Island, and the Governor sometimes speaks therein, having, as oneof the elders here saith of him, "a pretty gift in the ministry. " Mary, who is about the age of my brother's wife, would fain persuade us to goback with them on the morrow to the Island, but Leonard's business willnot allow it, and I would by no means lose his company while I tarry inthese parts, as I am so soon to depart for home, where a great oceanwill separate us, it may be for many years. Margaret, who hath been tothe Island, saith that the Governor's house is open to all new-comers, who are there entertained with rare courtesy, he being a man ofsubstance, having a great plantation, with orchards and gardens, anda stately house on an hill over-looking the sea on either hand, where, six years ago, when the famous George Fox was on the Island, he didentertain and lodge no less than fourscore persons, beside his ownfamily and servants. 

Governor Easton, who is a pleasant talker, told a story of a magistratewho had been a great persecutor of his people. On one occasion, afterhe had cast a worthy Friend into jail, he dreamed a dream in this wise:He thought he was in a fair, delightsome place, where were sweet springsof water and green meadows, and rare fruit-trees and vines with ripeclusters thereon, and in the midst thereof flowed a river whose waterswere clearer than crystal. Moreover, he did behold a great multitudewalking on the river's bank, or sitting lovingly in the shade of thetrees which grew thereby. Now, while he stood marvelling at all this, he beheld in his dream the man he had cast into prison sitting with hishat on, side by side with a minister then dead, whom the magistrate hadheld in great esteem while living; whereat, feeling his anger stirredwithin him, he went straight and bade the man take off his hat in thepresence of his betters. Howbeit the twain did give no heed to hiswords, but did continue to talk lovingly together as before; whereuponhe waxed exceeding wroth, and would have laid hands upon the man. But, hearing a voice calling upon him to forbear, he did look about him, andbehold one, with a shining countenance, and clad in raiment so whitethat it did dazzle his eyes to look upon it, stood before him. And theshape said, "Dost thou well to be angry?" Then said the magistrate, "Yonder is a Quaker with his hat on talking to a godly minister. ""Nay, " quoth the shape, "thou seest but after the manner of the worldand with the eyes of flesh. Look yonder, and tell me what thou seest. "So he looked again, and lo! two men in shining raiment, like him whotalked with him, sat under the tree. "Tell me, " said the shape, "if thoucanst, which of the twain is the Quaker and which is the Priest?" Andwhen he could not, but stood in amazement confessing he did see neitherof them, the shape said, "Thou sayest well, for here be neither Priestnor Quaker, Jew nor Gentile, but all are one in the Lord. " Then heawoke, and pondered long upon his dream, and when it was morning he wentstraightway to the jail, and ordered the man to be set free, and hathever since carried himself lovingly towards the Quakers. 

My brother's lines have indeed fallen unto him in a pleasant, place. His house is on a warm slope of a hill, looking to the southeast, with agreat wood of oaks and walnuts behind it, and before it many acres ofopen land, where formerly the Indians did plant their corn, much ofwhich is now ploughed and seeded. From the top of the hill one can seethe waters of the great Bay; at the foot of it runs a small rivernoisily over the rocks, making a continual murmur. Going thither thismorning, I found a great rock hanging over the water, on which I satdown, listening to the noise of the stream and the merriment of thebirds in the trees, and admiring the green banks, which were besprinkledwith white and yellow flowers. I call to mind that sweet fancy of thelamented Anne Broadstreet, the wife of the new Governor ofMassachusetts, in a little piece which she nameth "Contemplations, "being written on the banks of a stream, like unto the one whereby I wasthen sitting, in which the writer first describeth the beauties of thewood, and the flowing water, with the bright fishes therein, and thenthe songs of birds in the boughs over her head, in this sweet andpleasing verse, which I have often heard repeated by Cousin Rebecca:--

 "While musing thus, with contemplation fed, And thousand fancies buzzing in my brain, A sweet-tongued songster perched above my head, And chanted forth her most melodious strain; Which rapt me so with wonder and delight, I judged my hearing better than my sight, And wished me wings with her a while to take my flight. 

 "O merry bird! said I, that fears no snares, That neither toils nor hoards up in the barn, Feels no sad thoughts, nor cruciating cares, To gain more good, or shun what might thee harm. Thy clothes ne'er wear, thy meat is everywhere, Thy bed a bough, thy drink the water clear, Reminds not what is past, nor what's to come dost fear. 

 "The dawning morn with songs thou dost prevent, Sets hundred notes unto thy feathered crew, So each one tunes his pretty instrument, And, warbling out the old, begins the new. And thus they pass their youth in summer season, Then follow thee unto a better region, Where winter's never felt by that sweet airy legion. "

Now, while I did ponder these lines, hearing a step in the leaves, Ilooked up, and behold there was an old Indian close beside me; and, being much affrighted, I gave a loud cry, and ran towards the house. The old man laughed at this, and, calling after me, said he would notharm me; and Leonard, hearing my cries, now coming up, bade me neverfear the Indian, for he was a harmless creature, who was well known tohim. So he kindly saluted the old man, asking me to shake hands withhim, which I did, when he struck across the field to a little clearedspot on the side of the hill. My brother bidding me note his actions, I saw him stoop down on his knees, with his head to the ground, for somespace of time, and then, getting up, he stretched out his hands towardsthe southwest, as if imploring some one whom I could not see. This herepeated for nigh upon half an hour, when he came back to the house, where he got some beer and bread to eat, and a great loaf to carry away. He said but little until he rose to depart, when he told my brother thathe had been to see the graves of his father and his mother, and that hewas glad to find them as he did leave them the last year; for he knewthat the spirits of the dead would be sore grieved, if the white man'shoe touched their bones. 

My brother promised him that the burial-place of his people should notbe disturbed, and that he would find it as now, when he did again visitit. 

"Me never come again, " said the old Indian. "No. Umpachee is very old. He has no squaw; he has no young men who call him father. Umpachee islike that tree;" and he pointed, as he spoke, to a birch, which stoodapart in the field, from which the bark had fallen, and which did showno leaf nor bud. 

My brother hereupon spake to him of the great Father of both white andred men, and of his love towards them, and of the measure of light whichhe had given unto all men, whereby they might know good from evil, andby living in obedience to which they might be happy in this life and inthat to come; exhorting him to put his trust in God, who was able tocomfort and sustain him in his old age, and not to follow after lyingPowahs, who did deceive and mislead him. 

"My young brother's talk is good, " said the old man. "The Great Fathersees that his skin is white, and that mine is red. He sees my youngbrother when he sits in his praying-house, and me when me offer him cornand deer's flesh in the woods, and he says good. Umpachee's people haveall gone to one place. If Umpachee go to a praying-house, the GreatFather will send him to the white man's place, and his father and hismother and his sons will never see him in their hunting-ground. No. Umpachee is an old beaver that sits in his own house, and swims in hisown pond. He will stay where he is, until his Father calls him. "

Saying this, the old savage went on his way. As he passed out of thevalley, and got to the top of the hill on the other side, we, lookingafter him, beheld him standing still a moment, as if bidding farewell tothe graves of his people. 

May 24. 

My brother goes with me to-morrow on my way to Boston. I am not alittle loath to leave my dear sister Margaret, who hath greatly won uponme by her gentleness and loving deportment, and who doth at all times, even when at work in ordering her household affairs, and amidst thecares and perplexities of her new life, show forth that sweetness oftemper and that simplicity wherewith I was charmed when I first saw her. She hath naturally an ingenious mind, and, since her acquaintance withmy brother, hath dipped into such of his studies and readings as she hadleisure and freedom to engage in, so that her conversation is in no wisebeneath her station. Nor doth she, like some of her people, especiallythe more simple and unlearned, affect a painful and melancholy look anda canting tone of discourse, but lacketh not for cheerfulness and acertain natural ease and grace of demeanor; and the warmth and goodnessof her heart doth at times break the usual quiet of her countenance, like to sunshine and wind on a still water, and she hath the sweetestsmile I ever saw. I have often thought, since I have been with her, that if Uncle Rawson could see and hear her as I do for a single day, he would confess that my brother might have done worse than to take aQuaker to wife. 

BOSTON, May 28, 1679. 

Through God's mercy, I got here safe and well, saving great weariness, and grief at parting with my brother and his wife. The first day wewent as far as a place they call Rehoboth, where we tarried over night, finding but small comfort therein; for the house was so filled, thatLeonard and a friend who came with us were fain to lie all night in thebarn, on the mow before their horses; and, for mine own part, I had tochoose between lying in the large room, where the man of the house andhis wife and two sons, grown men, did lodge, or to climb into the darkloft, where was barely space for a bed, --which last I did make choiceof, although the woman thought it strange, and marvelled not a little atmy unwillingness to sleep in the same room with her husband and boys, as she called them. In the evening, hearing loud voices in a house nearby, we inquired what it meant, and were told that some people fromProvidence were holding a meeting there, the owner of the house beingaccounted a Quaker. Whereupon, I went thither with Leonard, and foundnigh upon a score of people gathered, and a man with loose hair andbeard speaking to them. My brother whispered to me that he was noFriend, but a noted ranter, a noisy, unsettled man. He screamedexceeding loud, and stamped with his feet, and foamed at the mouth, likeone possessed with an evil spirit, crying against all order in State orChurch, and declaring that the Lord had a controversy with Priests andMagistrates, the prophets who prophesy falsely, and the priests who bearrule by their means, and the people who love to have it so. He spake ofthe Quakers as a tender and hopeful people in their beginning, and whilethe arm of the wicked was heavy upon them; but now he said that they, even as the rest, were settled down into a dead order, and heaping upworldly goods, and speaking evil of the Lord's messengers. They were apart of Babylon, and would perish with their idols; they should drink ofthe wine of God's wrath; the day of their visitation was at hand. Aftergoing on thus for a while, up gets a tall, wild-looking woman, as paleas a ghost, and trembling from head to foot, who, stretching out herlong arms towards the man who had spoken, bade the people take noticethat this was the angel spoken of in Revelation, flying through themidst of heaven, and crying, Woe! woe! to the inhabitants of the earth!with more of the like wicked rant, whereat I was not a littlediscomposed, and, beckoning my brother, left them to foam out theirshame to themselves. 

The next morning, we got upon our horses at an early hour, and after ahard and long ride reached Mr. Torrey's at Weymouth, about an hour afterdark. Here we found Cousin Torrey in bed with her second child, a boy, whereat her husband is not a little rejoiced. My brother here took hisleave of me, going back to the Plantations. My heart is truly sad andheavy with the great grief of parting. 

May 30. 

Went to the South meeting to-day, to hear the sermon preached before theworshipful Governor, Mr. Broadstreet, and his Majesty's Council, itbeing the election day. It was a long sermon, from Esther x. 3. Hadmuch to say concerning the duty of Magistrates to support the Gospel andits ministers, and to put an end to schism and heresy. Very pointed, also, against time-serving Magistrates. 

June 1. 

Mr. Michael Wigglesworth, the Malden minister, at uncle's house lastnight. Mr. Wigglesworth told aunt that he had preached a sermon againstthe wearing of long hair and other like vanities, which he hoped, withGod's blessing, might do good. It was from Isaiah iii. 16, and so onto the end of the chapter. Now, while he was speaking of the sermon, I whispered Rebecca that I would like to ask him a question, which heoverhearing, turned to me, and bade me never heed, but speak out. So Itold him that I was but a child in years and knowledge, and he a wiseand learned man; but if he would not deem it forward in me, I would fainknow whether the Scripture did anywhere lay down the particular fashionof wearing the hair. 

Mr. Wigglesworth said that there were certain general rules laid down, from which we might make a right application to particular cases. Thewearing of long hair by men is expressly forbidden in 1 Corinthians xi. 14, 15; and there is a special word for women, also, in 1 Tim. Ii. 9. 

Hereupon Aunt Rawson told me she thought I was well answered; but I(foolish one that I was), being unwilling to give up the matter so, ventured further to say that there were the Nazarites, spoken of inNumbers vi. 5, upon whose heads, by the appointment of God, no razorwas to come. 

"Nay, " said Mr. Wigglesworth, "that was by a special appointment only, and proveth the general rule and practice. "

Uncle Rawson said that long hair might, he judged, be lawfully worn, where the bodily health did require it, to guard the necks of weaklypeople from the cold. 

"Where there seems plainly a call of nature for it, " said Mr. Wigglesworth, "as a matter of bodily comfort, and for the warmth of thehead and neck, it is nowise unlawful. But for healthy, sturdy youngpeople to make this excuse for their sinful vanity doth but add to theircondemnation. If a man go any whit beyond God's appointment and thecomfort of nature, I know not where he will stop, until he grows to bethe veriest ruffian in the world. It is a wanton and shameful thing fora man to liken himself to a woman, by suffering his hair to grow, andcurling and parting it in a seam, as is the manner of too many. Itbetokeneth pride and vanity, and causeth no small offence to godly, sober people. 

"The time hath been, " continued Mr. Wigglesworth, "when God's peoplewere ashamed of such vanities, both in the home country and in theseparts; but since the Bishops and the Papists have had their way, andsuch as feared God are put down from authority, to give place toscorners and wantons, there hath been a sad change. "

He furthermore spake of the gay apparel of the young women of Boston, and their lack of plainness and modesty in the manner of wearing andordering their hair; and said he could in no wise agree with some of hisbrethren in the ministry that this was a light matter, inasmuch as itdid most plainly appear from Scripture that the pride and haughtiness ofthe daughters of Zion did provoke the judgments of the Lord, not onlyupon them, but upon the men also. Now, the special sin of women ispride and haughtiness, and that because they be generally more ignorant, being the weaker vessel; and this sin venteth itself in their gesture, their hair and apparel. Now, God abhors all pride, especially pride inbase things; and hence the conduct of the daughters of Zion does greatlyprovoke his wrath, first against themselves, secondly their fathers andhusbands, and thirdly against the land they do inhabit. 

Rebecca here roguishly pinched my arm, saying apart that, after all, weweaker vessels did seem to be of great consequence, and nobody couldtell but that our head-dresses would yet prove the ruin of the country. 

June 4

Robert Pike, coming into the harbor with his sloop, from the Pemaquidcountry, looked in upon us yesterday. Said that since coming to thetown he had seen a Newbury man, who told him that old Mr. Wheelwright, of Salisbury, the famous Boston minister in the time of Sir Harry Vaneand Madam Hutchinson, was now lying sick, and nigh unto his end. Also, that Goodman Morse was so crippled by a fall in his barn, that he cannotget to Boston to the trial of his wife, which is a sore affliction tohim. The trial of the witch is now going on, and uncle saith it looksmuch against her, especially the testimony of the Widow Goodwin abouther child, and of John Gladding about seeing one half of the body ofGoody Morse flying about in the sun, as if she had been cut in twain, oras if the Devil did hide the lower part of her. Robert Pike said suchtestimony ought not to hang a cat, the widow being little more than afool; and as for the fellow Gladding, he was no doubt in his cups, forhe had often seen him in such a plight that he could not have told GoodyMorse from the Queen of Sheba. 

June 8. 

The Morse woman having been found guilty by the Court of Assistants, she was brought out to the North Meeting, to hear the Thursday Lecture, yesterday, before having her sentence. The house was filled withpeople, they being curious to see the witch. The Marshal and theconstables brought her in, and set her in, front of the pulpit; the oldcreature looking round her wildly, as if wanting her wits, and thencovering her face with her dark wrinkled hands; a dismal sight! Theminister took his text in Romans xiii. 3, 4, especially the last clauseof the 4th verse, relating to rulers: For he beareth not the sword invain, &c. He dwelt upon the power of the ruler as a Minister of God, and as a revenger to execute wrath upon him that doeth evil; and showeththat the punishment of witches and such as covenant with the Devil isone of the duties expressly enjoined upon rulers by the Word of God, inasmuch as a witch was not to be suffered to live. 

He then did solemnly address himself to the condemned woman, quoting 1Tim. V. 20: "Them that sin, rebuke before all, that others also mayfear. " The woman was greatly moved, for no doubt the sharp words of thepreacher did prick her guilty conscience, and the terrors of hell didtake hold of her, so that she was carried out, looking scarcely alive. They took her, when the lecture was over, to the Court, where theGovernor did pronounce sentence of death upon her. But uncle tells methere be many who are stirring to get her respited for a time, at least, and he doth himself incline to favor it, especially as Rebecca hathlabored much with him to that end, as also hath Major Pike and MajorSaltonstall with the Governor, who himself sent for uncle last night, and they had a long talk together, and looked over the testimony againstthe woman, and neither did feel altogether satisfied with it. Mr. Norton adviseth for the hanging; but Mr. Willard, who has seen much ofthe woman, and hath prayed with her in the jail, thinks she may beinnocent in the matter of witchcraft, inasmuch as her conversation wassuch as might become a godly person in affliction, and the reading ofthe Scripture did seem greatly to comfort her. 

June 9. 

Uncle Rawson being at the jail to-day, a messenger, who had been sent tothe daughter of Goody Morse, who is the wife of one Hate Evil Nutter, onthe Cocheco, to tell her that her mother did greatly desire to see heronce more before she was hanged, coming in, told the condemned womanthat her daughter bade him say to her, that inasmuch as she had soldherself to the Devil, she did owe her no further love or service, andthat she could not complain of this, for as she had made her bed, so shemust lie. Whereat the old creature set up a miserable cry, saying thatto have her own flesh and blood turn against her was more bitter thandeath itself. And she begged Mr. Willard to pray for her, that hertrust in the Lord might not be shaken by this new affliction. 

June 10. 

The condemned woman hath been reprieved by the Governor and theMagistrates until the sitting of the Court in October. Many people, both men and women, coming in from the towns about to see the hanging, be sore disappointed, and do vehemently condemn the conduct of theGovernor therein. For mine own part, I do truly rejoice that mercy hathbeen shown to the poor creature; for even if she is guilty, it affordethher a season for repentance; and if she be innocent, it saveth the landfrom a great sin. The sorrowful look of the old creature at the Lecturehath troubled me ever since, so forlorn and forsaken did she seem. Major Pike (Robert's father), coming in this morning, says, next to thesparing of Goody Morse's life, it did please him to see the bloodthirstyrabble so cheated out of their diversion; for example, there was GoodyMatson, who had ridden bare-backed, for lack of a saddle, all the wayfrom Newbury, on Deacon Dole's hard-trotting horse, and was so galledand lame of it that she could scarce walk. The Major said he met her atthe head of King Street yesterday, with half a score more of her sort, scolding and railing about the reprieve of the witch, and prophesyingdreadful judgments upon all concerned in it. He said he bade her shuther mouth and go home, where she belonged; telling her that if he heardany more of her railing, the Magistrates should have notice of it, andshe would find that laying by the heels in the stocks was worse thanriding Deacon Dole's horse. 

June 14. 

Yesterday the wedding took place. It was an exceeding brave one; mostof the old and honored families being at it, so that the great housewherein my uncle lives was much crowded. Among them were GovernorBroadstreet and many of the honorable Magistrates, with Mr. Saltonstalland his worthy lady; Mr. Richardson, the Newbury minister, joining thetwain in marriage, in a very solemn and feeling manner. Sir Thomas wasrichly apparelled, as became one of his rank, and Rebecca in her whitesilk looked comely as an angel. She wore the lace collar I wrought forher last winter, for my sake, although I fear me she had prettier onesof her own working. The day was wet and dark, with an easterly windblowing in great gusts from the bay, exceeding cold for the season. 

Rebecca, or Lady Hale, as she is now called, had invited Robert Piketo her wedding, but he sent her an excuse for not coming, to the effectthat urgent business did call him into the eastern country as far asMonhegan and Pemaquid. His letter, which was full of good wishes forher happiness and prosperity, I noted saddened Rebecca a good deal; andshe was, moreover, somewhat disturbed by certain things that did happenyesterday: the great mirror in the hall being badly broken, and thefamily arms hanging over the fire-place thrown down, so that it wasburned by the coals kindled on the hearth, on account of the dampness;which were looked upon as ill signs by most people. Grindall, athoughtless youth, told his sister of the burning of the arms, and thatnothing was left save the head of the raven in the crest, at which shegrew very pale, and said it was strange, indeed, and, turning to me, asked me if I did put faith in what was said of signs and prognostics. So, seeing her troubled, I laughed at the matter, although I secretlydid look upon it as an ill omen, especially as I could never greatlyadmire Sir Thomas. My brother's wife, who seemed fully persuaded thathe is an unworthy person, sent by me a message to Rebecca, to thateffect; but I had not courage to speak of it, as matters had gone sofar, and uncle and aunt did seem so fully bent upon making a great ladyof their daughter. 

The vessel in which we are to take our passage is near upon ready forthe sea. The bark is a London one, called "The Three Brothers, " and iscommanded by an old acquaintance of Uncle Rawson. I am happy with thethought of going home, yet, as the time of departure draws nigh, I doconfess some regrets at leaving this country, where I have been sokindly cared for and entertained, and where I have seen so many new andstrange things. The great solemn woods, as wild and natural as theywere thousands of years ago, the fierce suns of the summer season andthe great snows of the winter, and the wild beasts, and the heathenIndians, --these be things the memory whereof will over abide with me. To-day the weather is again clear and warm, the sky wonderfully bright;the green leaves flutter in the wind, and the birds are singing sweetly. The waters of the bay, which be yet troubled by the storm of last night, are breaking in white foam on the rocks of the main land, and on thesmall islands covered with trees and vines; and many boats and sloopsgoing out with the west wind, to their fishing, do show their whitesails in the offing. How I wish I had skill to paint the picture of allthis for my English friends! My heart is pained, as I look upon it, with the thought that after a few days I shall never see it more. 

June 18. 

To-morrow we embark for home. Wrote a long letter to my dear brotherand sister, and one to my cousins at York. Mr. Richardson hath justleft us, having come all the way from Newbury to the wedding. Theexcellent Governor Broadstreet hath this morning sent to Lady Hale ahandsome copy of his first wife's book, entitled "Several Poems by aGentlewoman of New England, " with these words on the blank page thereof, from Proverbs xxxi. 30, "A woman that feareth the Lord, she shall bepraised, " written in the Governor's own hand. All the great folkshereabout have not failed to visit my cousin since her marriage; but Ido think she is better pleased with some visits she hath had from poorwidows and others who have been in times past relieved and comforted byher charities and kindness, the gratitude of these people affecting herunto tears. Truly it may be said of her, as of Job: "When the ear heardher then it blessed her, and when the eye saw her it gave witness toher: because she delivered the poor that cried, and the fatherless, andhim that had none to help him. The blessing of him that was ready toperish came upon her; and she caused the widow's heart to sing for joy. "

[Here the diary ends somewhat abruptly. It appears as if some of thelast pages have been lost. Appended to the manuscript I find a note, inanother handwriting, signed "R. G. , " dated at Malton Rectory, 1747. OneRawson Grindall, M. A. , was curate of Malton at this date, and theinitials are undoubtedly his. The sad sequel to the history of the fairRebecca Rawson is confirmed by papers now on file in the State-House atBoston, in which she is spoken of as "one of the most beautiful, polite, and accomplished young ladies in Boston. "--Editor. ]

"These papers of my honored and pious grandmother, Margaret Smith, who, soon after her return from New England, married her cousin, OliverGrindall, Esq. , of Hilton Grange, Crowell, in Oxfordshire (both of whomhave within the last ten years departed this life, greatly lamented byall who knew them), having cone into my possession, I have thought itnot amiss to add to them a narrative of what happened to her friend andcousin, as I have had the story often from her own lips. 

"It appears that the brave gallant calling himself Sir Thomas Hale, for all his fair seething and handsome address, was but a knave andimpostor, deceiving with abominable villany Rebecca Rawson and most ofher friends (although my grandmother was never satisfied with him, as isseen in her journal). When they got, to London, being anxious, onaccount of sea-sickness and great weariness, to leave the vessel as soonas possible, they went ashore to the house of a kinsman to lodge, leaving their trunks and clothing on board. Early on the next morning, he that called himself Sir Thomas left his wife, taking with him thekeys of her trunks, telling her he would send them up from the vessel inseason for her to dress for dinner. The trunks came, as he said, butafter waiting impatiently for the keys until near the dinner-hour, andher husband not returning, she had them broken open, and, to her griefand astonishment, found nothing therein but shavings and othercombustible matter. Her kinsman forthwith ordered his carriage, andwent with her to the inn where they first stopped on landing from thevessel, where she inquired for Sir Thomas Hale. The landlord told herthere was such a gentleman, but he had not seen him for some days. 'But he was at your house last night, ' said the astonished young woman. 'He is my husband, and I was with him. ' The landlord then said that oneThomas Rumsey was at his house, with a young lady, the night before, butshe was not his lawful wife, for he had one already in Kent. At thisastounding news, the unhappy woman swooned outright, and, being takenback to her kinsman's, she lay grievously ill for many days, duringwhich time, by letters from Kent, it was ascertained that this Rumseywas a graceless young spendthrift, who had left his wife and his twochildren three years before, and gone to parts unknown. 

"My grandmother, who affectionately watched over her, and comforted herin her great affliction, has often told me that, on coming to herself, her poor cousin said it was a righteous judgment upon her, for her prideand vanity, which had led her to discard worthy men for one of greatshow and pretensions, who had no solid merit to boast of. She hadsinned against God, and brought disgrace upon her family, in choosinghim. She begged that his name might never be mentioned again in herhearing, and that she might only be known as a poor relative of herEnglish kinsfolk, and find a home among them until she could seek outsome employment for her maintenance, as she could not think of goingback to Boston, to become the laughing-stock of the thoughtless and thereproach of her father's family. 

"After the marriage of my grandmother, Rebecca was induced to live withher for some years. My great-aunt, Martha Grindall, an ancientspinster, now living, remembers her well at that time, describing her asa young woman of a sweet and gentle disposition, and much beloved by allthe members of the family. Her father, hearing of her misfortunes, wrote to her, kindly inviting her to return to New England, and livewith him, and she at last resolved to do so. My great-uncle, Robert, having an office under the government at Port Royal, in the island ofJamaica, she went out with him, intending to sail from thence to Boston. From that place she wrote to my grandmother a letter, which I have alsoin my possession, informing her of her safe arrival, and of her havingseen an old friend, Captain Robert Pike, whose business concerns hadcalled him to the island, who had been very kind and considerate in hisattention to her, offering to take her home in his vessel, which was tosail in a few days. She mentions, in a postscript to her letter, thatshe found Captain Pike to be much improved in his appearance andmanners, --a true natural gentleman; and she does not forget to noticethe fact that he was still single. She had, she said, felt unwilling toaccept his offer of a passage home, holding herself unworthy of suchcivilities at his hands; but he had so pressed the matter that she had, not without some misgivings, consented to it. 

"But it was not according to the inscrutable wisdom of Providence thatshe should ever be restored to her father's house. Among the victims ofthe great earthquake which destroyed Port Royal a few days after thedate of her letter, was this unfortunate lady. It was a heavy blow tomy grandmother, who entertained for her cousin the tenderest affection, and, indeed, she seems to have been every way worthy of it, --lovely inperson, amiable in deportment, and of a generous and noble nature. Shewas, especially after her great trouble, of a somewhat pensive andserious habit of mind, contrasting with the playfulness and innocentlight-heartedness of her early life, as depicted in the diary of mygrandmother, yet she was ever ready to forget herself in ministering tothe happiness and pleasures of others. She was not, as I learn, amember of the church, having some scruples in respect to the rituals, aswas natural from her education in New England, among Puritanicschismatics; but she lived a devout life, and her quiet andunostentatious piety exemplified the truth of the language of one of thegreatest of our divines, the Bishop of Down and Connor 'Prayer is thepeace of our spirit, the stillness of our thoughts, the issue of a quietmind, the daughter of charity, and the sister of meekness. ' Optimusanimus est pulcherrimus Dei cultus. 

"R. G. "