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THE JOURNAL

OF

WILLIAM JEFFERAY,
GENTLEMAN.

BoEN AT Chiddinolt, Old Bnoland, in the teas 1591 ;
Died at Newport, New England, in the teak 1675.

SOME ACCOTINT OF DIVERS PEOPLE, PLACES AND HAPPENINGS,
CHIEFLT IN NEW ENGLAND.

A DIAEY THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN.

EDITED BY
JOHN OSBOElSrE AUSTIN,
COMPILBB OP
' THE GENEALOGICAL DICTIONART OJ" RHODE ISLAND,'
"the ROGER WILLIAM8 CALENDAR," ETC., ETC.

1899.

LIMITED EDITION.

Copyright, 1899,
BT
JOHN OSBORNE AUSTIN,
PROVIDENCE, R, I.

PRESS OP
E. ij. FREEMAN & SONS,
PROVIDENCE, R. i.

EDITOR'S DEDICATION.

TO THE MEMORY OF
JOHN EVELYN,
THAT TRUE GENTLEMAN AND BEST
OP DIARISTS.

CONTENTS.

Editor's Dedication  Ill
Summary of Journal  VI
Editor's Preface  IX
Jefferay Coat-of-Arms 
CMddingly Church 
The Journal of William Jefferay, Gentleman,
(1591-1676)  1-141
N'otes by the Editor  142
Jefferay' s Dream of True Values  145
Jefferay' s Acrostic  164
Index to subjects, persons, and places . . . 165

SUMMARY OF JOUBISTAX.

1591-1623.
In Old Englaot) (Chiddingly— Cambeidge—
London)  Pages 1-14
Birth, at Chiddingly Manor (The Peaks)— Ances
tors— Description of country— Melward's ghost
— Wotton and the Evelyns— Dorkiag and the
Husseys— School-days— Death of Queen Eliza
beth— Caius Hall, Cambridge— Death of his
father— Epitaph and will— Removal to London
with his mother— Meeting at Cordelyon Inn (in
the Fleur de Lys) with returned adventurers
from America— Marvelous tales — Lodging at
the Golden Key— A play of Will Shakespeare's
—Decision to embark for New England— The
Tabard Inn and St. Saviour's Church at South-
wark— A last look at Chiddingly— The wood-
chopper's spirit — The rooks' farewell.
1623-1650.
In New England (Massachusetts ; Salem —
Weymouth)  Pages 14-24
The voyage — Marvels begin — ^Arrival — ^Roving life
— ^Weymouth — Ipswich — Isles of Shoals — Salem
— Weymouth, again — Morton of Merry Mount —
Blackstone — ^Death of his mother — Banishment
of Williams, and settlement of Providence —
Pequot War— Great snow— Earthquake— Mrg.

Vll

Hutchinson's adherents settle Aquidneck— The
maid he met at Newport, near Mr. Bull's house
—"Mary Gould' hath become his goal"— Mas
sachusetts attacks Warwick— Death of Isabel
Potter la the woods— Mrs. Hutchinson's death
— Return of Williams with charter, and his wel
come—Gorton's return from England— Behead
ing of Charles I— Mr. Hussey pledged in a quart
of sack— Mr. Batchelder's frailties— Bradford
— Winthrop- Reasons for leaving Massachu
setts for Rhode Island. 1650-1675.
In New England (Rhode Island ; Newpoet) Pages 24-141
Fairest spot in New England — Description of
place, people, and manner of living — ^Educa
tion, wealth, family, and religion in Rhode
Island — Coddington's attempt at usurpation —
Yield of farm, sea, and woods— Minister— Phy
sician— Stone Mill— Mr. Baulstone's claret-
Wild animals — Fishes — Houses — Furniture —
Plate— Books— Indians— Lands near Newport—
The gift of Dyer's Island— A walk to Sachuest
Beach— The Indian legend— A visit to Mr. Smith,
at Wickford, and meeting with Williams and
Blackstone there— An early clambake— The In
dian village and dance— Arrival at Newport of
Rehoboth men— Rhode Island Baptist whipped
at Boston— A Christmas dinner— The old faul-
coner" s portrait — Nutting — Hunting— Fishing
for tautog, bass, and chogset^Trailing for blue-

Vlll
fish — Berrying — Mr. Holmes' sermon — The In
dian tale of Spouting Rock— Growth of the
Quakers — Harris controversy — Settlement of
Conanicut — A "drive" of wild animals — Three
notable excursions — Christopher Holder's ear —
Herodias Gardiner's testimony— Pa wtuxet men
rejoin Providence— Visit to Blackstone, at Study
Hill — The garden and books there — A call on
Mr. Gorton and Mr. Arnold — Mr. Dexter's lime
pit — Mary Dyer's death^ — Westerly and Block
Island settled — Coronation of King Charles II —
A Quaker meeting — May Day at Mr. Barker's
— ^View of Gay Head — Reynard's fate — Royal
Charter — Death of brother Thomas, at Chid
dingly, and his will — Great fire and plague in
London — Voyage to Block Island — Mr. Ray —
Mr. Sands — Bluffs — Great Pond — Indian ovens —
Sword-fishing — Mr. Carr's rings — Mr. Arnold's
silver — The Seven Club and their stories ("Sea^
Serpent " — " Goblin Land" — " Secret Meeting "
— " Witch of Hammersmith' ' — "Ghostly Re vel "
—Wrecked Galleon"— "White Heron of Bed
fordshire"), as told by Jefferay, Arnold, Cod-
dlngton, Brenton, Brmley, Clarke, and Vaughan
— Mr. Borden's silver bowl — Visit to Mr. Wil-
lett, at Swanzey — ^Roast oysters — Mr. Willett's
silver, book titles, and wife's grave— Seventh-
Day Church — ^Negroes, piracy, and rum — Daugh
ter falls in love — Trip to Sekonit, and meeting
with Mr. Church there — Sarah Jefferay' s mar
riage — The wedding dinner — Mr. Brenton's
death and estate — Jeff e ray's poor health — Will.

EDITOR'S PREFACE.

The always intelligent reader will perceive
that no attempt is herein made to befog his un
derstanding with the somewhat musty, if time-
honored, story of an ancient manuscript, found
in an oaken chest, in an old garret.
Neither has it been thought necessary to use
a form of language strikingly different from the
present ; for, however much the seeming quaint-
ness, it repels continuous reading, and the real
difference in style of the two periods, is not so
marked as often imagined.
Yet, without these customary attestations to
reliability, there is here much fact, if some fancy
is also interwoven. As to the seven stories told
at the Seven Club, the reader must be his own
judge of whether, in a more credulous age than
ours, these were really told and taken in all
seriousness, or whether each strove to outdo
the others in marvels, as happens often in our
day. But, as to this Journal, if any should be found
so doubting as to think th ere was no such man

as the one now edited, let him go to the house-
of Sergeant Bull (still standing), where Jefferay
first met his vrife ; or, doubting yet, he may hie
him to the old cemetery, and there read, while
time still spares the almost gone inscription :
" Here lyeth interred the body of Wm. Jeffray
Gent., who departed this life on the 2d day of
Jan'y, 1675, in the 85* year of his age.
Since every tomb an epitaph can have.
The Muses owe their tribute to this grave,
And to succeeding ages recommend
His worthy name, who lived and died their friend ;
Being full of days and virtues, love, and peace,
God from his troubles gave hun a release.
And called him unto the celestial place,
Where happy souls view their Creator's face.
Vivit post funera Virtus "
Now shall the gentle reader, no longer doubt
ing, read Mr. Jefferay 's Journal aright, and
learn, perchance, some things worth the keep-

— ««i«3e««??f

THE JOURNAL

OF

WILLIAM JEFFERAY, GENTLEMAN.

1591-1623.
In Old England (Chiddingly— Cambridge-
London).
I was born at Chiddingly Manor (The Peaks,
as we do call it), in the county of Sussex, in the
year 1591 ; near an hundred years after the dis
covery of that great America, but much before
settlement of the sheltered corner wherein I
finally abode.
My father's family had long been seated at
Chiddingly, and were ever a respectable, well
doing and well-deserving race, as I have heard
ancient people say, and do verily believe it so.
My father's name was William Jefferay, and
my grandfather, Thomas Jefferay, was cousin to
that Sir John Jefferay, knight, some time Lord
Chief Baron of the Exchequer, who lies buried
with others of the name in Chiddingly church.
(Sir John died May 28th, 1570. He did build
a goodly house, since called The Place.) My
mother was Audry, daughter of Thomas Har
vey, of London, whose brother, my great-un-

cle, was Clarenceux. I had but one brother,
Thomas, and seven sisters, Jone, Audry, Susan,
Alice, Mary, Elizabeth, and Ann, all of them
well married, as the saying is. I was born in a
fair country, of which more anon, and to a fair
estate, and have bethought me often, in some
straits and hardships across the sea, why I left
so much to gain so little. Yet one gain I made
that was worth all, and more, of my trials, for it
was there I found the best wiie man ever had ;
so, if all be considered, I am well content.
I have said the country about Chiddingly was
fair to look upon, and indeed one might travel
far to find its match. From any part of the
parish there is a goodly view of the South
Downs ; the woods are plentiful, and the soil
runneth from sand to clay in about equal divi
sion, which, with a good protection from the
north winds, maketh both a healthy and mild
climate. There is a variety given to the land
scape by seven small hills, in which this parish
of Chiddingly is like unto Borne for its placing.
The land produces well of wheat, oats, and hops.
There are several good families long settled
hereabouts (within and near the parish), for
whom Chiddingly hath a most excellent church,
commodious enough for all, and, though some
three hundred years old, yet so well buUt that
it is like to be good for use three hundred years
hence. Herein are laid some early members of
our family, and here have I so often been to
service that it hath strong hold upon my affec
tion, remembering well the good men and women

who have worshipped there, many ancient ones
who died soon after I commenced my attend
ance. The earliest inscription to any of our race
(that I do remember) in the church, is on a
small, brass plate, to memory of . John and
Agnes Jefferay, who were my father's great-
grandparents. The epitaph readeth as follows :
" Of y'r charite pray for the soules of John Jef
feray and Agnes his wife, the which John de
ceased xxviij day of Jun the yer of o'r lord
M'v''xiij, of whose soules Jesu have mercy."
His wife was Agnes, daughter and heir of Eich-
ard Melward, and it is from this marriage that
our Jefferay coat-of-arms hath its Melward quar
tering. (It hath a Harvey quartering also from
my mother's family.)
It was Eichard Melward's ghost that was
verily believed (in my childhood days ) to walk
the old manor-house o'nights, and in particu
lar that chamber whereunto his daughter was
brought a bride. The few who were bold enough
to seek repose in that room certes never gained
it there, if confused stories and affrighted looks
be taken as any evidence. The clearest tale of
this walking was but misty, and here is the best
that I can piece together of it from the account
one gave me who tried to sleep there. He did
at first gain some rest, but was awakened by a
chilling air, and then through the darkness did
take notice of some gentle movement in an
ancient tapestry hanging at the side of the room
opposite where he lay.

This movement came at intervals quite regu
lar, and always with so deeply sounding a sigh
as seemed almost a groan. This pitiful sound,
and the movement of the tapestry as if from the
mighty heaving of these sighs, did so affect him
that he pulled the clothes over his head to stop
both eyes and ears.
Still could he hear the noise, though fainter,
finally stopping altogether ; yet worse came, for
anon a hand as cold as ice slowly crept adown
his neck and moved back the clothes, showing
to his affrighted eyes a tall, grave man, arrayed
in full armour, who looked most sadly at him a
moment, then shook his head slowly, and passed
away with but one mighty sigh more, as if in
disappointment at not finding his daughter.
As the ghost vanished it was seen that he did
carry two roses in his left hand, one white, the
other red ; thus foretelling that peace between
York and Lancaster which finally did come with
King Henry the Seventh. So two things seemed
to cause this walking ; one, grief at the loss of
an only daughter from his hearth, and the other
a message of peace to come, for at his death
York was in power (King Edward the Fourth
being then on the throne), though I have never
heard whether this poor ghost had fought for
York or Lancaster in his life-time. That he did
much miss his daughter when she left him for
another home, 'tis true, but his grieving might
well have been tempered in the thought that
she had been taken to a good man's heart, who
would care well for her when he was gone. Yet

walk he did, if honest witnesses are to be taken
fairly in what they did declare. As to the mov
ing of tapestry aiid that piteous sighing, it were
possible that some freakishness of the wind act
ing through a crevice might occasion it, but
the turning down of bedclothes by that hand
so icy, and the man in full armour, unless it
were but a dream, can hardly be explained, yet
all have agreed there was no dreaming to it.
Another appearance of this ghost is upon occa
sion of a full moon joining exactly with the day
of his daughter's marriage. This may not hap
pen in many years, but whenever it has come
about, that night ('tis said) may the ghost surely
be seen, slowly pacing back and forth in his
black armour, under the bride's window, ever
and anon gazing upward toward it, with face so
white and grieving that those who have thus
seen it in the moonlight do ever shudder in tell
ing of it and of that deep sighing which hath
(they say) an awesome sound.
Chiddingly lieth but a few miles from Hails-
ham and Lewes, while something farther is
Wotton, where dwell the Evelyns, of justly
good repute, with close beside them Leith Hill,
whence is a view over several counties in much
fairness of prospect, with a sight of the distant
sea. Near the Evelyns are the Husseys, of Dork
ing, one of whom, Christopher, by name, I was
yet to see again in that far off New England.
The earliest thing I do remember is of the
rooks about our trees, their blackness, their
solemn ways, and ever and anon their cawing.

as they flew slowly to and fro. I was put to
school to various masters, at my home and near
unto it, and gained enough of Latin for my en
trance to the university of Cambridge.
1603. Our Most Gracious Queen, Elizabeth,
died, after a reign of more than two score
years, not to be matched for great men and
glorious deeds. To her succeeded His Ma
jesty King James I. It was in this same year
that it was deemed wise to place me at the
university, though I have since thought I was
too young and ill prepared. Natheless I en
tered at Cambridge as sizar (July 7th) taking
my degree of B. A. three years later, and
meanwhile gaining more enjoyment from cer
tain new companionships, than from my stud
ies, with which I taxed myself not too hardly.
My particular college was Caius, but except
those familiar walls there was none did so af
fection me as that King's Chapel, which ex-
celleth most buildings that I have known in
the beauty of its inner modelling, its fanlike
tracings, the roses, crowns, portcullises, and
coats of arms carved in ceilings and sides,
and the beautiful Avindows of coloured glass.
But now to come back to my own college of
Caius. The wise founder and master of this
college, Doctor Caius (who died in 1578), did
here place two fair stone gates, as also a
meaner one ; of curious symboUing. This low
one at the entrance (the beginning of our
studies) he called the Gate of Humility ; the

next (across the first court) the Gate of Vir
tue ; and the third (beyond the inner or Caius
Court) the Gate of Honour, to be passed
finally when degrees were taken from the Uni
versity. Whenever I think upon college days,
memories crowd fast of old friends (young
enough then), of our walks and talks, our rows
upon the gently flowing Cam betwixt wooded
banks, and vastly pretty meadows, and of the
plans for the future we were ever making.
Few of these last proved indeed but dreams,
yet would I ever have the young dream thus.
Some fifteen miles from Cambridge is the fair
Cathedral of Ely, which I oft did see.
1607. In this year did Thomas Legge die who
succeeded Doctor Caius as master of this col
lege.
1610. The degree of A. M. was now conferred
upon me.
1611. Oct. 29. My father died ; a just man and
well beloved by his family and acquaintance.
He was of grave demeanour, yet had a humour
that lent itself well to the pastimes of his chil
dren as well as their tasks. He was ever char
itable to the poor, deserving of it, and some
who were not gained of his bounty. A good
churchman, he was, more than ordinary for
that age, fair to dissenting Puritans, though
he countenanced them not.
His will was made the third day of April,

1611, and proved the 12th of December, 1612,
Avith his son Thomas as Executor thereof, to
whom he gave messuages, lands and tene
ments in Chittingleigh called Sanguines, with
land thereunto belonging, called Bearde Hay-
wards Downe, Mawneers Downe, and at the
Peaks, some threescore acres, with thirty acres
adjoining called Gramyland, in the parish of
Hellinglighe, all in occupation of William
Smith, of Chiddingly; but if said Thomas
died without male issue then to son William
and his heirs forever. To son Thomas residue
of goods and chattels after payment of debts
and legacies. To son William £500 in hands
of two drapers dwelling in Watling St., Lon
don, to be paid at expiration of his years of
apprenticeship. To daughter Anne £240, in
one month after marriage. To every one of
daughter's children (living at time of his
death) he gave £111, 6s. 8d. at age. To Mr.
Bingham £111, 6s. 8d. To Susanna Sharpie,
dwelling with him, £5. To William Acton one
years rent of farm and a suit of apparel. To
Mr. Browne 20s. To the poor of Chiddingly
£5, at discretion of wife Audry, and £10 more
within five years, at discretion of son Thomas.
To the poor of parish of Hellingly, and parish
of Hailsham 20s. To the six prisons in Lon
don, 40s amongst them, at discretion of Exec
utor, viz., to Newgate, Ludgate, the two Coun
ters, the Kings Bench, and Marshallsea. To
wife Audry £100 (and £1100 to dispose to
daughters' children as she thinks good) and

9
the money, plate and jewels that did belong
to her mother at her death, with half of cer
tain household belongings, and use of other
half while she dwelt and abode in said house.
The plate, &c., not given to wife Audry, to go
io son Thomas who had specially given unto
him also, a round great salt cellar of silver
and gilt, a little square trencher salt cellar of
silver and gilt, a dozen of best silver spoons,
three great silver bowls white and two sil
ver tuns parcel gilt. The overseers of will
were sons-in-law John Baker, of Chiddingly,
and Eichard Turner, of London. Witnesses
Thomas Jefferay, Eichard Turner, Hugh
Evance. His epitaph may be read in the old church
as followeth (placed on the wall under a mar
ble effigy of himself, wife and nine children) :
" Here lyeth the body of William Jefferay,
Gent. He died on the 29th of October, An
•Salut, 1611, setatis suae 68. He married the
daughter and heire of Tho. Harvey, Citizen
and Grocer of London, by whom he had issue
2 sonnes and 7 daughters, who are all yet liv
ing. He went to the grave in a full age after
he had lived in good report and kept house
-with his s'd wife the space of 40 yeares to
gether in this Parish, and had seene many of
his childrens' children.
Thomas Jefferay, filius y' primog' patri
¦delecto memorise et observantise ergo posuet
Ano 1612."

10
1618. My brother Thomas's wife Margaret died
this year, leaving two daughters. My mother
(soon after my father's death) removed her
self and part of her family to London, where
her father had left her some estate. Being
restless and undecided as to my future course,
after losing some years in profitless stay at
London, I then fell into the company of some
returned adventurers from New England.
They were used to meet at the Cordelyon Inn,
in the Flower de Luce, Southwark (across the
London Bridge), a property owned by my
mother. The marvels which they had seen lost not
much in the telling, and stirred me with a long
ing to sail to those distant parts. It was in
deed none other than this spirit of adventure,
with a thought to profit also in some trading,
that brought me out of England. Many others
were leaving for a freedom of worship denied
them at home, but I was well content with the
church as I found it, though liking not the
persecutions of some churchmen upon their
fellows and late friends. I have ever meant
to be free from extremes of bigotry of either
side, a course condemned by all zealous work
ers, as a lukewarm and indifferent religion,
but of this I would be the judge, for a man,.
if wise, will justify his course only to God.
My latest lodging was at my brother-in-law
Eichard Turner's (draper) at the sign of the
Golden Key, Watling Street (near St. Paul's).
This part of London and that about the Tem-

11

pie are most to my liking. While awaiting
my ship I did see a play of that Will Shake
speare, so lately dead. Truly he did have a
pretty wit, and perchance play writers and
players will sometime have more reputb than
now, being in general held but in low esteem.
I have made mention of the Cordelyon Inn,
or ale house, in the Flower de Luce, but there
be others in Southwark larger, and of more
note, that I had some acquaintance of. The
Flower de Luce Inn, itself, was one, but great
er and more to my liking was the Tabard
Inn, wherefrom old Chaucer's Pilgrims did set
forth to Canterbury. I do much like his tales
thereof, and have before now been that same
road that he maketh them to travel.
Next to Chiddingly, I do affection South
wark, which is verily almost a part of London
(having only the bridge to bar it off) and yet
hath in itself some particular merit.
The old Abbot of Battle (which abbey was
founded by the Conqueror) did here at South
wark have a sort of town house beside, with
his gardens, maze and whatever else might
delight him, for not all those monks and
abbots did too much mortify the flesh then,
however it may be since. These fair gardens
and the abbot's house have long since gone,
and the maze remaineth but as a name, though
I have been able to make out some of the old
landmarks, having always a curious interest
in such like matters. St. Saviour's Church at
Southwark I did mostly attend. Before leav-

12

ing my native land I would fain see once again
that dear Chiddingly, and upon this occasion
did ride there a few days before sailing. It is
but some fifty miles from London and in
two days time I had reached my old home,
being welcomed most heartily by my brother
Thomas, who liveth there in good estate and
much respect. He hath many fair acres in
his right as first born, and I think it doth
some grieve him that he hath no son to heir
this goodly estate, though his daughters, Let-
tice and Margaret, are much comfort to him.
Before setting out on my return I called
upon our near neighbors the Calverlys, at the
Broad (as their estate is called), being but
across the perry lands, which last my brother
owns, lieing close unto his homestead of the
Peaks. The rooks do make most solemn procession
daily from the Broad to the Peaks, going from
us in the morning, but returning in the even
ing, and this hath been so from ancient times.
As I neared the Calverlys I was minded by
the sight of a cottage of what befell me there
some years since. It was in my college days,
upon occasion of a visit home, that I was
dared by one of the Calverlys to stay a space,
at night, in this cottage. None would live
there because of the chopping of wood in the
middle of the night, which though clearly
heard, yet was no wood found at the door
nor in the forest close by, except such as did
grow. I was not to be dared in those days

13
and did indeed make part of a night there,
not thinking to hear any chopping, for I
deemed it but an idle tale. About midnight,
however, I did hear (upon a sudden awaken
ing) something that much resembled a slow
chopping noise, and, truth to tell, my heart
did seem to thump somewhat in time to the
chopping. This inward quaking (at first) did
now anger me, and I quickly dressed, and
went out to find the chopper, for the noise
seemed close to the house, on the edge of the
wood. No one could I see, and the noise
now seeming drawn into the wood a little, I
followed, till getting into some black mire in
the midst of the forest, and seeming to get
no nearer the noise, I was forced to betake
myself home again, for I stayed not longer at
the cottage. As I turned from the mire there
seemed a light dimly hovering on the further
side where lieth a quagmire, and once as I
turned me" from it I heard something that
sounded much like a low but hateful laugh.
Some do say a woodman who long since lived
in the cottage did an horrid act which causeth
him ever to chop, but I believe not overmuch
in spirits, though I understand not how this
seeming sound of chopping could be.
I rode over to Beachy Head and to Lewes
where the battle was lost by King Henry III
(near Mount Harry as since called). Here also
at Lewes is the old castle of the De Warrens.
I even rode so far as Hastings one day, to
visit Battle Abbey and the ground where the

14
Conqueror vanquished Harold. All these had
been much favored rides of mine when a lad
at home, and it was pleasant, yet sad withal,
to now see them for the last time perchance.
And so farewells were said and I turned me
back to London, the last thing that I saw and
heard being those rooks of which I have be
fore told. Their procession seemed most
dreary now and their voices pitched in a
mournful note, as I departed.

1633-1650.
In New England (Massachusetts ; Salem—
Wey^iouth).
1623. Having bade farewell to my dear mother
and to kindred and friends, I was soon upon
the wide ocean, with a heart divided between
sorrow at leaving and hope in the future.
Something of the marvels wished for soon
came in a fearful gale, lasting three days in
the extreme peril of it, and once near causing
our utter loss. Being happily delivered from
this, we had now more calms than vidnds, and
the time wore heavily with me, until another
danger of a waterspout, with a like close de
liverance. We soon after came upon an as
sembly of great whales spouting and disport
ing themseves, though no sea-serpents nor
mermaids, as told by one of those at the Cor
delyon Inn. Our last peril was the near em-

15
baying of us one night by a mighty mountain
of ice, that only the rising of the moon did
prevent, by showing the danger that was upon
us. After a long passage we cast anchor nigh
unto Cape Ann, where some fishing was even
so early a-doing. A little later I landed at
Weymouth, (as after called) and was soon
upon trading and adventuring far up and
down the coast ; the Isles of Shoals, Ipswich,
Salem, &c., but my chief stay was at Wey
mouth in the last of it. I gained something
in my trading, fishing, bartering and the like
(tho' once near wrecked upon that reef which
later became poor Mr. Thatcher's woe) ; not
needing the profit of it so much as some 'tis
true, for I had brought a small estate with me.
1625. King James I did this year die, and was
succeeded by his son King Charles I.
1628. I willingly gave (with Mr. Burslem) £2,
towards the expense of ridding us of that
Morton, of Merry Mount, who though I have
known him well, has now forfeited all right
to live here, by his wild and loose courses,
and carousings of himself and crew. Around
their May pole have they danced in drunken
revelry, till now it must be stopped.
1629. Mr. Blackstone, (a minister when in Eng
land ; and at Cambridge, though not of my col
lege), did this year act as agent with me for
Mr. John Gorges in matters of land.

16

1630. Mr. Winthrop hath arrived in the Bay
with a great fleet, which bringeth many to
settle among us.
1634. My mother died this year. She had
lived of late in the parish of St. Austin (near
St. Paul's) London, and I think at her son-in-
law Eichard Turner's house, sign of the Gold
en Key, Watling Street. I had fain hoped
to see her once again, but Old England hath
now still less to draw me back. She was
ever a good and tender mother to me, who
was, alas, but too ill contented a child, though
I loved her most dearly, and trust she doth
now know it. She hath left me by her will,
(with other estate in Southwark) that ale
house " Cordelyon " where first I heard some
tales of these distant shores. This jea.v there
came to me a letter from Mr. Morton so rail
ing at government here and at Mr. Winthrop,
that it became my duty to lay it open for him
to read.
1636. My brother-in-law Hugh Evans died,
and left me a legacy of 10 s to buy me a ring.
He married my sister Audry, and was a mer
cer in London.
Mr. Williams hath been banished from the
Bay, and it seemeth most unjustly and cruelly,
for his so called offence of religious belief was
but a matter for honest differing.
He hath found better friends with the wild

17
Indians, and is living in the wilderness -at a
place by him called Providence.
1637. Now hath this same Mr. Williams heark
ened to the prayers of his oppressors, and
prevailed with his friends the Narragansetts
to hold off their hands in this bloody Pequot
War, thereby saving many lives, perhaps the
whole of New England. Truly a Christian
act, and few would rise to it so willingly, and
amidst such dangers as encompassed him in
his errand, from the knives of Pequots already
bloody with murders. Some would have re
called him from banishment for this great
service, but the most would not have it so.
The latest news is that Captain Mason hath
entirely overthrown this Pequot nation by a
most signal victory at their fort in Connecti
cut, but few escaping with their lives. Near
seven hundred killed, with their chief Sassacus.
1638. Because they would fain follow Mrs,
Hutchinson's teachings instead of the other
ministers' counsels, many wise men and of
some worldly substance (as Mr. Coddington,
&c.) must needs now give up their arms or
depart from Massachusetts, which some have
done who could be illy spared, and have gone
to Aquidneck, where they have signed a most
wise compact of government. Mrs. Hutchin
son is of a good family in England, the Mar-
burys, and by her mother, the Drydens.
Much snow this year. For five months was

18

the ground covered. This year also was mem
orable for the great earthquake, sensibly felt
all through this "land, a terror to many, and a
warning to all of their weakness in the hands
of God.
1640. I came to New England seeking wonders,
and now there befell me one truly at last, that
ever new befalling, the falling in love, as the
saying is. It was indeed so sudden that the
strangeness and sweetness of it hath never
left me. It may be counted most singular by
some, that I should have lived to see near
fifty years ere this happening, for few in the
old world, and less in the new, tarry half that
time. Indeed I will confess to passing fan
cies, in Old England and New, for many good
women have I known, and have sometimes
thought one would prove my anchorage, yet
it came to naught but friendship, which is
another matter. But as to this happening, it
thus befell ; going, as had been my wont upon
occasion, to Newport, I chanced to pass by
Sergeant Bull's house (where also he keepeth
the gaol), and meeting there a most comely
maid, inquired for the house of one Jeremiah
Gould. "Why that is my father sir," she
saith, " and I am now going that way." They
were simple words, but so prettily said, and
she looked so fair and bright as she hesitated
a moment if I would come with her, that,
going at once, I fell into a kind of dumbness,
which amazed me much, as always before of

19

most ready speech to either maid or dame.
But knowing soon my heart (which told me
that my fate, at last, had come), though I had
little speech to her, yet many times, I said to
myself (ere we did reach her father's), " Thou
shalt go my way through life, fair maid, if love
can show thee that 'tis thine." While I waited
her father's coming, besides that sweetness
and truth that her eyes had first shown me,
I could not but observe two things (as she
modestly strove to entertain me with some
speech while preparing the supper). They
may be homely things, but they do wear so
well, and makes for so much in daily life, that
I here note them ; — neatness in attire however
lowly her work, and a fine sense of humour.
My discourse with her father (on his soon ar
rival then, and on later occasion when I did
call upon him) was in great part on my ad-
venturings, he having a mind to embark upon
some tradings in parts where I had sailed.
Now did his daughter seem to follow the
story with eyes of some interest, as I told of
my wanderings far and near. It was not so
much of my gains and losses in barter that
she cared, but of some wild race or 'scape of
some great peril, and though these seemed
not to me of consequence in a young maid's
thoughts, yet would her pity grow at some
stroke near death I suffered, and anon would
her eyes dance for joy (yet dimmed a little)
as I made good my deliverance. Soon was
the dumbness more of hers than mine, and

20
the time at last came (for an age I thought
it) when she did confess, on my close asking,
that my way was indeed hers forever. This
pretty confessing, which hath made so much
of my life, was at Miantonomi Hill, a short
walk north of the town, where I have often
betaken me since, both for its own beauty of
prospect, and more for the happiness I there
found. Then arose that pretty quip on me,
" Mary Gould hath become his goal," or, as
one said, " his gaol ; " for indeed it was by Mr.
Bull's gaol I first met her, and my heart hath
been in most pleasing bonds to her ever since.
I had not thought to have said so much upon
this matter, yet must I something, as the best
part of my life hath been her love, which set
me marvelling then that I should have at
tained it, and I marvel oft at it still. She
hath indeed been my stay and comfort in all
weathers, and such happiness to me here, as
maketh me more sure of a happy hereafter,
in God's kingdom. Her love hath been so
bountiful as to admonish me to deserve it
better, and cure those too many faults of mine
that else might wound so gentle a spirit. She
hath a pretty saying, when I do wonder at
this bounty of her love ; " Doled love is but
fearsome love, which never held the faithless,
yet robs the faithful." A most sweet doctrine
for man to hear of woman, and will make for
the best he coutaineth to deserve it. I had
written thus far, when my wife cometh, and
laying her hand upon my shoulder, in a gen-

21
tie way she hath, I asked her, most foolishly,
¦ if she would have known how much I loved
her, if I had not writ it down. She answered
only by a look, at first ; and then said, " I knew
there were not books enough, dear heart, if
thou didst e'er try to write it."
My wife's thought it was that I should
make this Journal, reviewing some passages
of my life (though not this best part of it —
our love) for posterity's behoof, if that might
be.
1641. At Weymouth was I chosen Commis
sioner, not having removed to Newport for
some space yet. I have not the desire of
many for public service, though it hath been
so pressed upon me sometimes that I could
not in duty refuse.
1642. Mar. 20. There was born to me a daugh
ter, and the name I gave her was Mary, as
being her mother's, and so the best I have
ever known. I do hope she may live to be as
like her in feature and in works, as may be
possible.
1643. Soldiers are sent from the Massachusetts,
on pretence at first that the Warwick men
(Gorton and others) did deal unjustly with
the Indians ; but soon, confessedly, because of
their holding, in the opinion of the Bay, " blas
phemous errors ; " and so they are brought to
Boston, placed in prison, and warned not to

22
preach further against state or church, on pen
alty of death. Surely a poor way to convert
men from error, even if proved.
This harshness of Massachusetts, (though
some would be more merciful could they pre
vail) groweth irksome to many, who even talk
of leaving the Bay if it continueth. Mistress
Isabel Potter, the wife of one Eobert Potter,
at Warwick, with other women and children,
was forced to betake herself to the woods
upon this assault, where she died of her hard
ships, as did some others in that new settled
plantation. Distressful news cometh from
Manhattan, where Mrs. Hutchinson and many
of her household were murdered by Indians.
In Connecticut, Miantonomi hath been killed
by Uncas' brother, treacherously.
1644. Mr. Williams hath returned from Eng
land with a charter for his colony, and a safe
conduct through Massachusetts, else would
some have barred his way, though all were
his debtors for service, in the late Indian
troubles, at great danger to himself. He was
met by his neighbours, of Providence, in four
teen canoes, at Seekonk. Truly a goodly
sight, and I would I had witnessed it. He
hath suffered much, and well earned the fruits
of his victory.
Mr. Coddington, the Governor at Aquid
neck, hath lately lost by fire, some housing,
a barn, and a score of cattle, but hath large es
tate remaining.

23
The Baptists formed a church this year at
Aquidneck.
1648. Mr. Gorton hath returned from England,
having a letter of protection from the Estrl of
Warwick for his safety in passing through
Boston. He and the other Agents, Mr.
Greene and Mr. Holden, did two years since
get from England the vindication of the rights
of the Warwick settlement against the claims
of the Bay. It thus seemeth that these claims
of Massachusetts in her contentions with both
Providence and Warwick, are proved unjust,
else must she have had poor advocates in
England for her cause.
1649. This year was His Majesty King Charles
I. beheaded. A cruel fate for a man endeared
to many more than he had wronged, and who
desired not to wrong any.
About this time I bethought me to make a
stable abode at Newport, where I had tarried
often for brief spaces. The place did ever
take hold on my affections ; first for finding
my wife there, and also for its fair situation
and climate, security for the care of a family
as to Indian troubles, and freedom in matters
of religion.
Though I continue a good English Church
man, I like not the Puritan way of Massachu
setts ; and Plymouth too sometimes persecu-
teth, though not matching the hardihood of
the Bay. Yet I give all honour to Mr. Brad-

24
ford and Mr. Winthrop, who many times have
stayed the hand of persecution, when others
would have helped forward the cruelties. Ere
I left the Bay I saw my Old England neigh
bour, Mr. Hussey, and we pledged each other
in a quart of good sack, for remembrance of
Chiddingly and Dorking. He hath married
Mr. Batchelder's daughter, many years since.
Mr. Batchelder is a minister, very aged now, a
man of parts, but frailties, the more unbecom
ing in one of his years and calling. He seem
eth a man in whom blood warreth hardly with
grace, yet perchance he hath conquered more
than some of cooler blood have ever had to
strive against, so less able to judge him fairly.
Certain it is that he hath performed many
good works in his day, and hath ever been
bountiful with his means to suffering churches.
All of which must be remembered in the sum
ming of the man.

1650-1675.
In New England (Rhode IsL^v^n) ; Newport).
1650. At this fair spot, none fairer in New Eng
land, am I now come to spend my remaining
days, a wanderer no more, and methinks it is
e'en time I tarried, being come to near three
score years.
It is now, in faith, that I do commence this
my Journal, all before having been but a gath-

25

«ring of such things together as I could be
think me of; and though a late beginning,
time may still serve to relate something
worthy to write, if God give me the years.
And first as to this island of Aquidneck, where
I have at last cast anchor. It hath been com
pared to our own dear Isle of Wight, in Old
England, and not without show of reason.
Aquidneck is some twelve miles in the length
of it, and hath a varying breadth of three or
four. The island is well wooded and watered,
with a good soil in general, and a diversity of
hill and dale that is vastly pleasing to the eye.
I believe the climate the most excellent to be
found in New England, sweetly tempered, and
healthful to a more than ordinary degree.
The harbour, at Newport, is safely compassed
about, of good depth, and large enough for
all that may come to it in trade, with this ad
vantage over Boston that it enters from the
south instead of from the east. Next as to
the people here and in the near plantations
of Providence and Warvrick. It hath been
•sometime said by. enemies of this colony in
Massachusetts, that those here were but a rab
ble, unlettered, rude, of poor estate and fam
ily, and without religion or any respect for
authority. Perchance I may judge this mat
ter the more fairly, having come of late from
the Bay unto this place, and being, by no
merit of my own, gently born and bred, edu
cated at a university, with a pretty good es
tate, and a religion approved as sound, and

26
therein different from my neighbours here.
Now as to the flocking here from persecution,
it doth ever happen that such rigour availeth
not in bettering men, but driveth away many
noble minds, with some also weak and fanci
ful, partly come thereto by the persecutings
they have suffered. If these last became out
rageous in yonder colony because so driven
about, they have been many times healed here-
and rendered seemly. So much for that rude
ness, which appeareth more to lie -with those
who thrust out their erstwhile neighbours.
As to religion, the best evidence of it is the
life a man doth lead, and your rudeness an
swers that. As to authority, that of God and
the King is recognized here, but not of mag
istrates and elders as to the soul, nor ever
shall be, and time shall yet decide whether
your contention is right or ours.
As to men of substance in worldly goods,.
you have driven to us Mr. Coddington, your
then richest merchant, and still of good es
tate except as it suffered from your act. You
are like to lose Mr. Brenton also, who dwell-
eth much with us, and is reckoned above £10,-
000, and Mr. Benedict Arnold of Providence
is perhaps richer than either of these. Other
good estates might be named, but it were idle
to take time to confute you further. As to
learning, Mr. Williams, who always earneth a
victory in his contentions with your most
learned, Mr. Blackstone (so close upon our
borders and so unwelcome to you, as to be^

27
called one of us), and myself, were all univer
sity men at Cambridge, in Old England. At
Newport, we have Mr. John Clarke, both
learned and wise (which some of your learned
are not), whom you have cause to know, as
you have Mr. Gorton of War-wick, especially
under your condemnation. Last as to family ;
though I do deem it the weakest claim for
merit that can be put forth, yet an honoura
ble ancestry, like wealth or learning, is an en
dowment of fortune, a necessity following for
matching it with more good deeds. That
same Mr. Gorton is of a family anciently
seated at the place of like name. Mr. Arnold
is late of Cheselbourne, in Dorset, and trac-
eth to Kings, as doth Mr. Cranston of New
port, through the Earls of Crawford. So also
Mr. Smith,^ who sold possessions in Glouces
tershire, choosing to dwell near us at Wick
ford, and myself, here at Newport, have been
esteemed as of gentle blood.
It were worse than idle to take more time
in thus confuting slander, ever a fruitless
task, for a slanderer hath not a mind convert
ible. Now I will rightly commence by some ac
count of life as used by us at Newport in this
year of our Lord 1650. Mr. Easton is now
President of the four towns, having succeeded
John Smith in that office. Mr. Coddington
hath lately gone to England and procured a
commission as Governor of this island, which
exalteth too much his rights in the purchase.

28

and it is feared might result in usurpation
and a vacating of the Charter. This must be
stayed, and Mr. John Clarke vrill soon be sent
to London as Agent to right this and other
matters, and procure a new charter. We have
Mr. Clarke now for Treasurer of the four
towns, Mr. Dyer for Attorney General, and
Mr. Sherman, General Eecorder. Mr. Clarke
was the first chosen minister of the church
here, in the Baptist way, and he and Mr.
Cranston both practice physick. Mr. Stafford
hath been miller at Newport, and if report be
true, Mr. Benedict Arnold will come from
Providence to dwell -with us and build him
here a goodly mill of stone, much like to one
near his old English home. We do not lack
for smiths, joiners, masons, coopers, cordwain-
ers, nor inn keepers. Of the last, I have found
Mr. Baulstone's claret and white wine the best,
though he liveth apart from us, at Portsmouth.
Of other liquors we have as good here.
Shopkeepers we have, and some traders who
adventure in sloops to the Barbadoes for ex
change of goods.
Our trade with England must be through
Massachusetts, or by way of the Dutch at
Manhattan. A prison have we, and stocks, and a pound.
For money we must still use somewhat of
peage and beaver. Angels, nobles or other
gold coin are as strange to see here as they
were common to be seen in my youth at Chid
dingly.

29

Our farms yield good English hay, corn,
wheat, oats, rye, barley, pease and the like,
with some tobacco and flax ; and orchards
yield already good apples. The sea giveth
us fish of many kinds in plenty, and the shores
yield us shell fish and weed to dress our lands,
while venison may be had by near hunting,
enabling us to save somewhat of our cattle,
for increase. There is considerable of horses
and cattle here, already, with goats, sheep,
s-wine, geese, turkeys and fowl. The spin
ning of flax and wool, and making of butter
and cheese, with care of poultry, engages the
time of the women, besides their cooking and
mending. Some have stalls of bees, making
a fine honey for which I have much liking,
and believe it a most wholesome sauce. Other
sauce we have not only from our apples, but
in gathering from the woods and fields, in
their season, strawberries and blackberries —
¦with some other kinds. The woods about us
do yield also some very good nuts, as of hick
ory which are kept for winter's use, and chest
nuts more speedily used on their picking, and
cooked by roasting or boUing. The trees
serve us well in winter's cold, of which the
best for fuel are hickory and oak, but maple
and beech do answer well. Besides the deer
I have before mentioned, there are bears,
wolves, a kind of lion called panther, wild
cats, beavers, otters and foxes, with very good
grouse and quail, but the larger animals have
mostly left this island, and must be hunted on

30

the main. The wolves ravage the flocks so
badly that bounties are paid for their heads.
The fish most esteemed are the salmon,
caught at the head of the bay (up the rivers);
and here the blue-fish (a kind of mackerel but
not so oily), bass, black-fish (tautog), &c.
Oysters, scallops, quahaugs and small clams
are also farther up the bay, though we have
large sea clams on our beaches after a gale.
Our houses are yet small, though a few
have good ones (-with some glass from Eng
land for their windows) ; and our furnishings
of them are not like what we used in our old
homes, but much poorer. Some have, 'tis true,
a little plate, with books of value, but dishes
are for the most of wood or earthen, and our
tables, chairs and beds but rude, save a few
brought across the sea with hazard and much
expense. Of Indians, some remain on the island (since
its purchase of them), and are used as ser
vants, being tractable and well disposed ; but
at Narragansett is their chief hold, all peace
able now through Mr. Williams' wise course
with them, they wholly trusting him, and ¦wel
coming when none else may tarry. (Massa-
soit in the Massachusetts, and Canonicus here,
were ever friendly to the English, and Uncas
of Connecticut hath been mostly so.)
As to the lands about us, we have to the
eastward that Indian country Sekonit, ¦within
Plymouth bounds. Near us to the west and
north are mostly islands — with one in the

81

ocean far to the south called Block Island.
Goat Island helpeth to form an harbor, while
a little further west is the great island Conan
icut, so called from the wise old sachem Ca
nonicus, whom I did once meet in. some earlier
travel. Coaster's Harbour Island, close to us
at the north, was named by the first planters
as they harboured there in coming from Ports
mouth to Newport ; and passing a little spot of
land that William Dyer desired, it was then
given him and called Dyer's Island at once
by them. For this odd asking and giving
(but not for the value of it), a Dyer should
always hold it, methinks. Other islands that
be farther north are Prudence, and Patience;
to which last Mr. WiUiams hath sometimes
said he might yet betake himself, so thinking
when hard beset and wearied with vexing
contentions, and longing for more peace and
quiet. He hath indeed suffered much ; in the
old, some, but more in the new world, for his
opinions, and there remain many ravels even
now to straighten here ; but he hath upon
good foundation that which he so much de
sired, a colony in this far corner where those
elsewhere oppressed for their beliefs, may
come for refuge. He hath been called con
tentious -by some of the Bay, and is so if that
meaneth that he ¦will ever contend with the
tyranny of their church over men's souls.
Jul. 8, Monday. I have already rode and
walked much over this island, and along the
shore to the eastward have to-day seen some

32

odd fashionings of rock, in particular beyond
Mr. Easton's beach, where the second, or Sa
chuest beach commenceth. Here is a great
fissure or rent in the rocks, of which the In
dians tell a story of one of their maidens, who
in ancient times did flee from an unwelcome
lover, and springing to go over this chasm
seemeth to have cleared it well, but slipping
on the farther side went headlong to the bot
tom. Yet was not her body found, though
her brother, fast follo^wing, did kill her wicked
lover, and then made search for his sister.
The Indians believe that the Spirit of that
place did care for her, conveying her to bet
ter realms, without sign of hurt upon her.
Aug. 3, Saturday. Took shallop for Wick
ford, to call upon Mr. Smith, hoping also to see
Mr. Williams at Narragansett, where he some
times tarrieth, near unto Mr. Smith. I found
not only Mr. Smith and Mr. Williams there,
but Mr. Blackstone, he coming often to preach,
at Mr. Smith's desire. Here at Wickford, in
the great Narragansett country, reaching to
Connecticut bounds, hath Mr. Smith dwelt
for above ten years space, none nearer him
upon the main than Warwick or Pa wtuxet, a
score of miles away. True it is that Mr. Wil
liams hath done some trading here, but his
coming from Providence is only upon occa
sion. Mr. Smith being a man of no small
estate, hath built at large cost a trading
house, with a purpose also to propagate the
gospel among the Indians. He hath large

33

buildings for his family and servants, and
entertaineth freely any traveller ¦who chanceth
this way, for he is near that Pequot Path,
which passeth from Providence through Nar
ragansett unto Connecticut.
Mr. Williams had much discourse with me
this evening upon Mr. Coddington's action
regarding the charter, which displeaseth him
much, and thinks to go again to England soon,
¦with Mr. Clarke, to right it. Mr. Williams
hath still the friendship of Mr. Winthrop,
from whom he oft hath letters. Mr. Black
stone talked with me of old times at Cam
bridge, though he was not of my college nor
year there.
Aug. 4, Sunday. We had to dinner a veni
son pasty which liked me much, as did some
shell fish that Mr. Smith hath had cooked in
a way learned of the Indians. These clams
are placed in a pile, on stones first heated
greatly, covered then with sea-weed for a
space, and, when eaten, plucked by the fin
gers from the shell, adding only a little of salt
and butter. Corn, baked also with the clams,
forms part of the feast, for such it is, however
simple it may seem in the telling. Cakes
baked from the grinded corn are used here,
as at Aquidneck.
¦ Being Sunday, Mr. Blackstone did preach
for us ; and Mr. Williams read scripture and
expounded thereon to satisfaction of all.
Aug. 5. Mr. WiUiams and Mr. Blackstone
having departed for Providence, I went with

34
Mr. Smith to see some Indians who owed him
for goods which they lately had of him, and
were to pay for to-day, if called on at their
village. To get there was near a half day's
journey through the woods, and being ar
rived, after lading the skins and peage upon
some of Mr. Smith's Indians, we rested for a
space, smoking tobacco most gravely -with
some of their chief men. At Mr. Smith's de
sire there was a dance later of some of their
young men, which was vastly entertaining to
us, though both had seen something near to
it before. They have their village on the
shores of a great salt pond which hath an
outlet to the sea. We returned to Mr. Smith's
just as dusk was making.
Aug. 7. Arrived again at Ne^wport, after a
pleasant sojourn at Wickford, and much dis
course of profit, with Mr. Smith, and Mr. Wil
liams, and Mr. Blackstone.
I find I am of the older sort of planters
here (near half a score years above most), only
Mr. William Arnold, of Pawtuxet, and Mr.
Holliman, at Warwick, exceed me that I do
remember. Before this writing (some three
years since) had Mr. Coggeshall of Newport
died. President of the Colony ; and Mr. Brown
at Providence, minister for the Baptists, and
honoured much by Mr. Williams, died ere I
came to this colony, as I believe. From Ee-
hoboth comes news this year that Mr. Oba-
diah Holmes, Joseph Torrey, Edward Smith
and others, have been presented for meeting

35
upon the Lord's Day from house to house.
This bringeth them to live at Newport, and
so are we still a haven for the oppressed.
1651. Mr. Holmes, Mr. Crandall, and Mr. John
Clarke, of Newport, have been seized, for
meeting at William Witter's, in Lynn, who
could not come to Newport for worship, by
reason of his age. Besides fines and impris
onment for all three, Mr. Holmes was also
whipped. He hath escaped their hands, and
will now have the ministry here which Mr.
Clarke had.
Oct. 18. Soap boiling and candle making
at my house to-day,
Dec. 18, Thursday. My wife's brother, Dan
iel Gould, was married to Wait Coggeshall,
daughter to our late deceased President. It
was a sober wedding enough, surely, and in
deed marriage is not to be lightly entered
into, but it would have been more to my lik
ing if after there had been some mirth and
merriment in Old English fashion, for joy
cometh with. a happy marriage. Daniel, how
ever, hath some new scruples as to carriage on
such occasion. The dinner served me well,
nevertheless, with some special dishes that
Mistress Coggeshall doth cunningly prepare.
Mr. Baulstone, whose daughter hath married
a brother of the bride, brought some of the
claret of which I have before spoke, a very
good vintage.
Dec. 25. Christmas hath ever been kept by

36
me, not only with some religious exercise, but
with good cheer and merriment. To-day my
wife hath roasted a fat goose and made a
pudding with plums therein, which, with some
tokens given, have vastly pleased both chil
dren and servants.
Dec. 31, Wednesday. I have cast up my
accounts and made some compare of revenue
and expense for the year, as is my custom
always at the end of this month. I have no
debt owing, and none that owe me, as I have
ever found borrowing and lending a bar to
friendship. To the poor, of whom not many are here, I
have given as my means would allow, and
count it a blessing that I can. Many a poor
man is perchance worthier in some things
than he whose purse is heavier, and indeed
one of the worst kinds of pride that groweth
upon a man is that of purse.
Now goeth out the year with much to be
thankful for in health, wealth sufficient, and,
best of all, my dear -wife and children, my
latest blessings.
1652. I was chosen on a committee with three
others to write a letter for Newport to Pro-n-
dence and Warwick.
This year here died Mr. Jeremiah Clarke.
He hath left a good report, and a widow ¦with
many children she had by him. She is the
faulconer Latham's daughter, he still living
in Elstow, Old England, but now very aged.

37

She hath been twice married before, first to
Lord Weston, and then to Mr. Dungan, by
which last she had several children that came
with her and her latest husband, Mr. Clarke,
to Newport. One of her Dungan children
hath married Mr. Holden, of War^wick, and
another is wife to Mr. Barker of this town.
Mrs. Clarke lately desired some discourse
of me touching her husband's affairs, and
showed me her father's portrait, which she
brought with her from England (or hath had
sent her since, I know not which). There be
few portraits in this place, and this hath there
fore a double value. It maketh one see an
old man with long white beard, high nose,
and piercing eyes, still clear and strong (per
chance remaining so from their use in hawk
ing). In the corner of the canvas is displayed
the coat of arms of the Lathams, early a Lan
cashire family as I believe.
Jul. 19, Monday. Hauled sea-weed for my
meadow, recent gales having placed great
mass of it upon the beach.
Oct. 24. Went a-nutting, with my wife and
eldest daughter, and gathered good store of
both hickory and chestnuts, though not so
many trees of these last with us. The chest
nuts ¦will serve us well now, being cooked, and
the hickory nuts may be cured by drying for
winter, to be used then with apples and cider
by our evening fire.
Am well tired this night and indeed cannot
labour with such hardiness as once I did, but

38
need not now do more than health requireth.
My garden well tilled, horse and cows cared
for, with my wood to cut and draw, well suffi-
ceth me, and the heavier work of this my ser
vant doeth, being a hearty youth. I keep
but one, not having many fields, nor desiring
them now. My ¦wife requireth but one maid
to help her within the house.
With labour done, the pastimes here used
are mostly hunting and fishing, which pro-dde
both entertainment and the furnishing forth
of our tables in some degree.
Bowling is resorted to somewhat by our
young men ; an ancient English game that I
like to see them engage in, having used it
much in my own youth. My father did once
say that Drake was engaged at bowls when
that great Spanish armada was first sighted.
Inns are in the main used for refreshment
only, when occasion requireth, and not to tip
ple in.
Nov. 1. Burned out my chimney, with a
great roaring and flying forth of flame, but no
harm done, having taken a rainy day.
Nov. 20. Took my gun and dog with me
for a bag of game, and did get some good
grouse and quail in the woods, and, as I re
turned across the marsh, a brace of Arild duck ;
so my larder is well supplied to-night. Sent
part over to my brother Gould's wife, and
the rest my wife will serve to us roasted and
in a pie for our Sunday dinner on the mor
row.

39
My dog is very good for hunting birds or
foxes, and harmeth neither cat nor chickens.
1653. Mr. John Sanford died this year. Presi
dent of our two towns on this island. He was
cannoneer, when at Boston, and since his en
trance to this colony hath been well employed
on public business. He hath left a consider
able estate. He still owned some of that ar
mour, now gone from use, but formerly so gen
eral, before powder. His ¦widow was of the
Hutchinson family. There hath, been no
special happening set down by me this year
except this of Mr. Sanford's death.
Peage is now 8 a penny.
1654. Mar. 27. Sold a piece of ground to Law
rence Turner and Tobias Saunders, measur
ing 67 rods in the length of it, and 57 broad.
May 6, Saturday. Went fishing for that
black, thick kind, called by the Indians tautog,
and by some of us blackfish. Caught several
large ones thus early, my first trial of the
year. They are very good sport in the tak
ing, lying under the side of a rock without
moving greatly from it, so that they may be
caught freely in one spot, while at a short
distance none may be had. They feed on
crabs, mussels, and the like. They may be
baked, boiled, or fried (the smaller ones in
meal), but their meat is not so excellent as the
striped bass, of which I caught a few.
In coming home from the cliffs where I had

40
fished, I stopped upon the beach, and found
that the late gale had thrown upon the shore
some great sea clams, that though not fit for
baking (like the smaller kind up our bay), yet
make a most excellent broth which my ¦wife
relisheth much. She hath not seemed of her
usual health for a day or two, and this broth
may hearten her. I had caught a few chog-
sets also in my fishing, which, though little
esteemed by most, do make the best of chow
der, from their sweetness, though 'tis true
they be exceeding bony.
June 19, Monday. My garden doeth finely
this year, both the part that I do till, and that
little parcel wherein my wife groweth some
savoury herbs and mints, besides some flow
ers that she delighteth in. To-day we all
went a berrying and gathered enough of those
wild growing strawberries to give us our con
tent (with plentiful cream thereon) at supper,
and some that my wife will preserve for ¦win
ter's use. We have sugar from our maples
this year, part of which we keep in a kind of
syrup for our wheaten and corn cakes.
Aug. 12, Saturday. Again a-fishing, but
now for bluefish, a gamesome kind, that is
best caught while sailing, as we did (my ser
vant with me), trailing our lines behind. A
most delectable flavoured fish when cooked
fresh caught (which it must be, as it spoileth
soon) and well larded with butter. We had
one to our dinner, with sweet corn upon the
ear, now coming of right age and size.

41
Sep. 1, Friday. Blackberrying with my
wife, and brother Daniel Gould, and his wife.
The berries are most large and sweet this
year, the weather having favoured their grow
ing. My wife gave us part of them in a pud
ding, for supper, her brother and his ¦wife
staying with us to help eat it. They agreed,
as did all of us, that it was the best they had
tasted, being of very light crust, with the ber
ries massed together inside, and served ¦with
a sweet creamy sauce.
Dec. 81, Sunday. Eead prayers at home ;
my custom of a Sunday, unless I go to hear
Mr. Holmes, which, though he be a Baptist, I
sometimes do, for I have known many godly
men of a different religion from mine.
A very prospering year to me in my plant
ing and other undertakings ; for which, and
most of all for the good health of my house
hold, praised be the Maker and Giver of all.
1655. Mar. 25, Sunday. Heard a good sermon
from Mr. Holmes, " In my Father's house are
many mansions," ¦with hopeful illustrations
for us poor wayfarers stiU lingering here in
our earthly homes.
June 1, Friday. To Mr. Arnold's stone mill,
and waited my turn for grinding the corn I
brought. Had some speech, while waiting,
with Mr. James Eogers (sometime General
Sergeant), and a mind to have asked him if
he had not Thomas Eogers for his father, who
was of the Plymouth settlement at their first

42
coming. (Our Mr. Eogers' eldest son i*
named Thomas, which likens it the more.)
Nov. 29, Thursday. Finished hauling my
wood, aforetime cut, and now well seasoned.
Have a good store of it piled for ¦winter's use,
and some housed so that it may be got at dry-
in all weathers.
In Plymouth bounds do they now make
thanksgiving at this season, remembering
their early deliverance from disease and star
vation at their settling. Here, too, is there
some observance, and this corner, so favoured
of the Lord, might well give thanks contin
ually for mercies. A constant spirit of thank
fulness is a need of us all, instead of much
fruitless repining and fretfulness.
My wife's brother, Thomas Gould, was mar
ried this year to Elizabeth, daughter of Mr.
Baulstone, but late divorced from John Cogg
eshall. News cometh this same year of the death
of the old faulconer Latham, Mrs. Vaughan's
father. He died May 15, at Elstow, in Bed
fordshire, of a great age, near an hundred it
is said.
There hath been a list made this year of
the freemen of the whole colony, thus show
ing to what we are grown. Newport hath
96, Portsmouth 71, Providence 42, and War
wick 88.
1656. Apr. 1, Tuesday. There came to me this
night an old Indian, who hath oft told me of

43
the great spouting made by the spirit (as he
averreth) of a sea monster, who cometh at
long intervals to thus foretell disaster. I had
doubted much his tale, but bade him warn me
at any hour when he could promise a sight of
this wonder. To-night he came, therefore, in
much excitement and. trembling, and said he
would take me near the place if I would not
force him quite upon it. It was nine of the
clock, and I abed ; but I roused myself, and
soon joined him on the way to some great
rocks, near two miles south of the town. We
had almost got to it, when the Indian of a sud
den left me, and I was nigh startled as a great
spout of water shot upwards close to me,
spraying to a height of two or three score feet,
and a noise with it as of hoarse bellowing.
It is truly of strange contriving, though
nothing unearthly, and indeed a most beauti
ful sight in the full moon as I saw it. As I
fell to pondering on the meaning of it, there
came to me this reason for the spouting. A
great hole in the rock underneath it, with
some narrowing upwards, wanteth now but a
certain manner of wind and tide in just bal
ance, to cause, upon occasion, this wonder.
The marvel further is that the sea hath not
worn this hole so as to spoil such sport, but,
though this may be in time, yet now all is in
pretty shaping.
I hurried me home after gazing awhile, and
telling my wife of it, she prevailed on me to
take her to see it, which I have done, on pil-

44
lion behind me ; and when our wonder was
somewhat stayed we hasted home again, yet
it was midnight ere we got to bed.
Dec. 31, Wednesday. There have been some
things passed unnoticed this year that I should
not so have neglected the dates thereof. The
separation of some from the Baptists, forming
a second church (the differences being as to
psalmody, prophesying, laying on of hands,
and particular redemption), by Mr. Vaughan,
Mr. Baker and others ; a special hot day in
the last summer (the worst I do remember in
many years); and a great gale that came this
autumn with hurt to some of our boats. These
be the three things that come to me, that I
must not fail to tell, nor must I forget the
many blessings showered on me and mine
this year.
1657. Mar. 28. My brother-in-law, Thomas
Gould, hath this day bought of Koshtosh
(Indian sachem), an island near unto us, which
he will call Gould Island, as have some al
ready. Now are the Quakers gaining upon us
greatly, my brother Daniel Gould one of the
first to join them, while others either gone or so
leaning are Mr. Coddington, Mr. Easton, Mr.
Bull, &c. here, with a following also at Ports
mouth and Providence. Mrs. Vaughan's eld
est Clarke son seemeth to have a leaning that
way, which would make censure from her
father, the old faulconer, were he living, as

45
he was ever for the old faith and ancient ways.
Aug. 25, Tuesday. Nicholas Power died at
Providence, leaving a widow and two young
children. Oct. 12, Monday. Came this evening to my
house Mr. Easton and Mr. Bull (upon some
persuasion of my wife's brother, as I think),
and set forth reasons why I should join them
in the religious way of the Quakers. I an
swered civilly, but feel no drawing toward
them, yet have they some good in their wor
ship, as their leading of the Spirit (by which
we should all be led) ; the serving of their
ministers freely (which may be well, if min
isters can live without pay) ; and simplicity
in dress and speech, (if these become not
a form and pretence of themselves) ; and so
of their doctrine of peace (if not offending
others by obstinate holding at trifles, provok
ing to anger and not peace). As to the fanci
ful doings of some, I hold not the most re
sponsible for these follies. I shall, at a con
venient season, visit their meeting and hope
to be edified in some things.
Mr. Williams approveth not the Quakers,,
particularly the extravagances fallen into by
some half madded with persecution (as one
or two of their women going naked in the
street). He fighteth them however only by
his word of sharp censure and counsel, and
openeth here a safe haven for them, as for all
oppressed. Neither doth Mr. Williams agree with Mr.

46
Harris, at Providence, though upon other
grounds (as his defiance of authorities in civil
things), and has, being President, signed a
warrant for his arrest on the charge of High
Treason. There hath been much disputation
between them for some years, and though I
do believe Mr. Williams to be generally right
in his grounds and claims, yet his word and
pen are always as sharp as his adversaries ;
and it is in deeds only that he is softer. When
poor humanity struggles and suffers, he is
ever ready to help and heal.
Mr. Brinley, -^'ho hath lately come among
us from England (of a good family in the
county of Bucks), hath, and others joining
him, made themselves proprietors of Conan
icut, the great island near us.
Dec. 1, Tuesday. Did nearly all of us here
and in Portsmouth, drive the island to rid it
of some pests, that yet be among us, partly
come in from the main as I think. We started
at Newport and worked north to the end of
the island, by which time we had either killed
or driven into the water toward Pocasset, most
that have ravaged our flocks and fowls. There
were of killed, three great gray wolves, two
panthers, four bears, six wild cats, and seven
teen foxes. A few deer we killed, also, for our
eating.
1658. May 1. The children did some of them
gather of that shy, trailing flower, called May
flower; very pretty and sweet to smell of.

47
One of the girls was poisoned ¦with ivy in
getting the flowers, but plantain leaf may
heal or help. Witch-hazel were better, could
it be attained. The English ivy hath not this
poison quality of ours here. Dogwood must
also be shunned, for its poison leaves.
May 15, Saturday. I have ever believed in
the habit of obser^ving little things (so con
sidered, though oft proving great), as adding
much to the pleasure of a walk, ride or jour
ney, which might else be but irksome. Talk
ing thus to my older children, I bade them
look well about them, and when they had
gathered some wise knowledge, as to kinds
of rocks, trees 'and birds, and the habits of
these last, I would be glad to be made more
wise from their findings.
Now are they come, and, reminding me of
this speech, do also say that I did enter into
an agreement to make three Saturday rambles
with them, when they had gained enough to
be able to show me some wonders. This can
they now do, and I must perforce keep my
contract ; so did we make fair start to-day with
a walk to some notable rocks.
THE EOCK EXCUBSION.
Our course lay across both beaches, the
tide being well out, and so most excellent
walking, that part of the sand uncovered being
well compacted and hard. We fell to talking
first of the rocks in general on this island, and

48
how the south end of it, cropping out in some
greyish granite kind of rock, is flanked on the
main on either side (both at Sekonit and Nar
ragansett) by a reddish sort unknown to us
here. Coming now to the great fissure close
by the western end of Sachuest Beach, my
son would fain try to jump where the Indian
maid did meet her fate ; but this must not be,
now or hereafter, as I shortly told him.
Passing along this beach eastward, we left
it for a few minutes to visit " Hanging Eocks,"
or " Lion's Mouth," just north of the beach.
This is at the south end of a mighty range of
rocks, and doth somewhat indeed resemble a
mouth in approaching it ; but when came close
upon is found to be a sort of cavern, ¦with a
floor sufficient for a number of people, and
an over-hanging roof, its prospect being to
ward the sea, otherwise a most secure shelter
in a storm.
This range of rocks, like the great peak near
Mr. Barker's, and others, is of pudding stone
for the most part, and endeth (at the south al
ways) with an abruptness and smooth cleav
ing, as if a knife had sliced the pudding
squarely off, cutting many of the plums apart.
In a ravine north and west of Hanging Eock
dwelleth an old Indian skilled in uses of herbs
and simples, and from him I procured some
rare ones of recent gathering for my -wife's
store, she lacking these.
Proceeding again to the east end of Sachu
est Beach, we continued south and then around

49
Sachuest Point, till we came to the " White
Eocks," these being boulders of most beauti
ful dazzling white quartz, well worth a jour
ney to see. Now we fetched around north
and west, passing the Third Beach, and, com
ing to the cliff north of that, had a most ex
cellent view across the channel to the Sekonit
country, ending in West Island. Below where
we stood was " Castle Eock," and to this we
now descended, finding it larger than we had
supposed in looking from above, and so thrown
out from the shore as to stand in some shape
like unto a castle. At low tide, as found now
by us, it may be approached dry shod by a
little neck, but at high tide it is cut off from
shore. The rock, though in part hard, has a
sort of ridge or capping of softer and some
what crumbling slate, which crumbling must,
in time, much reduce its size.
Still keeping north unto a little cove, we
here had our lunch, which my wife's care had
well supplied, and rested while waiting for my
servant to come around from Newport with
the boat. It is across from here that any may
be ferried (though nothing regular) to Se
konit, for parley with the Indians there, no
settlement of whites having yet been made in
that country.
We now fell to talking of a strange thing
that is said to have come to pass in Ports
mouth of late. It seemeth that a great fire
having been made of logs, upon some pieces
of slate-appearing rock, and the embers after

50
cleared to prevent any spread, it was then
found that the stones did seem to be on fire
themselves, burning ¦with a dullness, it is true,
but clearly afire. It is thought that this might
give a means of warming, in distant ages, if
the forests here were all consumed ; and it is
likened a little to that sea coal of England.
The boat having now arrived, we did carry
so good a ¦wind that we reached home right
speedily, all tired, but well satisfied -with our
first day's excursion. THE WOODS EXCUBSION.
May 22. Again Saturday, and my contract
being for the woods, to-day, we started east
ward from town, obser^ring as we went our
own trees before leaving the thick-settled
parts. The elm, I could tell my companions,
was finer here than the English sort, for grace,
while full as large, and one kind in particular,
called weeping, doth hang almost like a ¦wil
low. Again, there is the slippery elm, so-
called, whose inner bark is excellent for poul
ticing. My son asserts that no better meat
blocks have been found than those made of
elm, being of a tough fiber.
We came now, my son leading, as having
previously hunted out some good paths for
seeing, to a fine clump of sugar maples (rock
maples as also called), and in some lower
ground found the white maple. Next, as fine
a white ash as ever I saw, and my son, who

51
doeth most of the talking to-day, averreth it
superior, if that may be, to hickory, for mak
ing of bows, he ha^ving practiced much in
archery. Of black ash there is more, perhaps,
than white. Hickory and chestnut, too, we
passed in fine sample, and falling upon some
locust, and farther on some cedar, I asked his
opinion of the merit of woods for fence posts.
He told me most gravely (with my close at
tention given), that for length of service in
the ground without decay, nothing equaleth
the locust, with cedar next, while chestnut,
though very good, cometh last. From what
I have heard I think he hath judged right as
to precedence, though not quite clear as be
tween locust and cedar. The red cedar, as
he showed me, hath a most fragrant inside,
and none better for boxes to keep out moths,
whUe the locust is the best wood for ship's
treenails. Beeches we found in plenty, but of birches
not so many except of the yellow kind, though
both white and black we saw. With a tall
white one they had rare sport in swinging
from near its top, close beside a rock, off to
the ground, it bending but not breaking at
all. My son saith, that when gathering ¦wild
grapes he hath often found the vines clamber
ing from one birch to another, and, filling his
basket, has made safe descent in this same
s^winging down. He hath seen the Indians
make their canoes of its bark, and its use for
lighting we all do know. The black birch

52
hath a bark very edible, as all my children do
testify. We now chanced upon a rare tree here, the
sassafras ; and, digging out some of its root
for my wife's store of simples and herbs, did
near by get her, also, some of that sweet flag-
root that is good to cleanse the blood in some
of its affections. Then coming upon a great
white oak, I did declare it my favorite tree of
all, both for its sturdy battling with .life
against all odds, and its long hold thereon,
exceeding the elm even, in that. With fair
room to spread itself, and clothed in those
handsome leaves, its sturdy strength declared
in all the curvings of its branches, I know not
its equal. My children are come to the same
opinion, though I do always teU them in mat
ters of this kind to form their own, and not be
bowed by mine, as it is a question of growing
judgment and has naught to do -with love or
obedience. Black oak and red oak, too, we saw, and
black walnut and butternut (this last bearing a
very good kind) ; but not many of these two
last named. Wild cherry trees were plen
tiful, and their fruit, one of my daughters
saith, is much esteemed by some of the old
dames in making, when placed in rum, a drink
of much benefit in certain kinds of sickness.
This reminded us to gather some elderberries
that my wife desireth for making into ¦wine.
We gathered some checkerberry leaves for
her, too. A basswood and poplar tree (not

53
plenty here) were passed, vrith some of a wil
low kind (though not weeping) and evergreens
so many as to have near forgot mention ; the
pines, spruces, firs, hemlocks, and junipers
abounding here. So we returned from our
second excursion, all much benefited.
THE BIRD EXCUBSION.
May 29. My contract endeth vrith this Sat
urday's ramble, but in truth methinks it might
have much longer to run, and I not the loser ;
for these excursions have given me, I do be
lieve, full as much pleasure as they have my
children. To-day we take the gardens, fields,
and orchards, more than the wood, though to
the edge of that, and through some swamp
and thicket ere done. My children have
much to teU me of the haunts and habits of
birds. They know of one eagle's nest on a
cliff to the eastward, and of several great ones
that the fish-hawks do build on trees, near to
each other. We did see our enemy, the hen-
hawk, soaring above us as we sallied forth,
and, passing the barn, fell to speaking of the
swallows that there build, and of chimney and
bank swallows, these latter having quite a
congregating in a sand bank near us, where
they have burrowed to some little depth. The
kingfisher maketh a much deeper hole and in
a more clayey soil, having the entrance more
hid than the bank swallows (or sand martins
as some do call them). The kingfisher flew

54
by as we neared his home, giving out his rat
tling note, and near enough to see his blue
gray plumage, and the raised crest of him.
This made us think (as to kingship and crest,
but not other ways) of the king-bird and his
mighty valour ; for, though but small, he
driveth before him all birds, from eagle
down. Of sparrows, besides the homely little chip
ping kind that hath his hair nest in our ¦vine,
there is the song sparrow, whose note I do
much delight in ; and my children did now
bring me to the nest of one, when, perceiving
an egg larger than the rest, and different
marked, I asked how this could be. The an
swer, quickly made, was that it was laid by a
so called lazy bird, who thus saves herself the
trouble, and her egg hatching a little first,
doth often endanger the coming forth of the
sparrow's own. That tanager whose scarlet
coat doth mark him out so brilliantly in the
foliage, we did not see, though sparingly a
visitor here, nor did we meet the more com
mon cherry bird, to-day.
The robin in our cherry tree, carols forth
so loudly, that we must e'en notice him, as
Avell as that more showy golden robin, or ori
ole, who sitteth near his hanging and swing
ing nest upon the elm. I much like the ori
ole's buoyant note, and even the soft gurgling
one of the blue bird (who builds this year in
the box provided by us) pleaseth me, though
not of much range. A saucy wren did nearly

55

drive out the blue bird in the commencement
of his housekeeping, but I did stop that in
time. As we crossed a field of grain, we started
up both red -winged black-birds and cheery-
voiced bob-o-links, though neither have cheer
ful greeting from the farmer, any more than
the larger crow black -birds and crows, who
prey upon his crops, delighting to balk his
labours thus. These crows do ever remind
me of the rooks at Chiddingly. As we passed
a thicket, a brown thrush (some call him
thrasher) whirred by us ere I had clearly
got his note, but a cat-bird remaining, kindly
mocked that and many other trillings of birds,
with his cat note interspersed, somewhat hurt
ing his other pretty copies. He was quite
tame, and very demure in his brown-gray
coat, yet seemed to have some pride beneath
it in showing forth his powers. A gold-finch
(or yellow bird) flashed by us ere we passed
on, starting up a meadow lark in our way ;
and, coming now to the border of the wood, a
drumming sound told of a woodpecker near,
which proved to be that large kind called
pigeon woodpecker with us, very numerous
on the island. He is a handsome fellow, with
the red spot on his head, black crescent at his
throat, and other markings on his general
brown and yellowish hue.
Our old friend the blue heron rose from
the near swamp ; and, next, a most discordant
noise did show us now that we were trespass-

56
ing ; and so it proved, for I was led close by the
nest of a blue jay, who, thus discovered, snap
ped his eyes angrily, and let forth most harsh
notes, ere he left his nest. This bird is hand
some in his markings, too, but in bad reputa
tion with my children, who say he doth rob
other birds by sucking of their eggs. Quail
and partridge are found near here, in their
season, and a grave old owl doth inhabit in a
tree pointed out to me.
Much would my son like to find the nest of
the whip-poor-will, whose mournful note we
hear at eve, and who, he thinks, hath a nest
near where we stand, but has not yet found,
the eggs resembling the dry leaves they are
placed amongst.
Now came the sweetest note I had ever
heard of bird, in America at least (though our
nightingales and larks in England do near
match him) ; the wood-thrush's song. It did
so pleasure me that I tried for a glimpse of
the songster, though fearing thereby to stop
his sweet music. The little I saw was of a
bird smaller, I think, than the brown thrush,
and a larger mottle on his breast ; but I can
not be sure of his markings, his song holding
me in spell.
The last treat for me, as we neared the
house, on our return, was the tiny nest of a
humming bird, a secret till now, for my sur
prise ; and so we end these pleasant excur
sions, all well satisfied of their profit to us.
June 1, Tuesday. My wife hath brewed and

57

bottled some very good beer, compounded of
many herbs and simples ; and it maketh not
only a most refreshing drink, when cooled in
the spring, but is excellent for the blood.
Put in some grafts to my apple trees, kindly
sent from Mr. Blackstone. Finished shearing
of my small flock.
June 15. Some very sweet and tender green
peas, the first of my picking this year.
June 21. Tailoring and making of gowns
at our house, to-day, which causeth much stir
and bringeth news, (with the coming of the
tailoress always), as to our neighbours' doings.
June 25. Cut my hay, and stacked it for
most part, my barn being small, and the win
ters so generally mild here that much of the
hay is stacked ¦with us.
Aug. 3. Harvested my oats thus early.
Aug. 12. The first picking of my sweet
corn, of which I have a particular choice kind.
Oct. 1, Friday. Husked my field corn and
brought in my pumpkins. Have had some
barrels made by the cooper, for my young
orchard doeth so well that I shall need a few
(what with mine own apples and buying some).
One barrel I use for cider.
Oct. 20. Wild geese are flying south. The
wood-chucks dig deep this year, a sign of
severe winter.
Nov. 20. liilled a very handsome fat hog
and salted down for ¦winter, except the hams,
which will be smoked, as well.
Am now building me a short piece of wall.

58

as no hard cold yet, and good weather for
out door work. Have finished hauling my
wood this week.
Dec. 25, Saturday. This Christmas ¦will
be ever remembered, for a most pleasant sur
prise it brought. The children did show me
by strong endeavourings to keep awhUe their
secret, that something was in store for my
pleasure ; but I was ill-prepared to find it so
great a matter. Upon the proper time arriv
ing, however, I was shown a very pretty table,
the work of my son ; which, examining more
closely, I then saw was inlaid of little squares,
each of a different wood, all fitted together
¦with much nicety, and polished to show the
grain and thus explain the kind. This I had
thought all (and more than enough), but was
now further shown that two little drawers-
might be pulled out ; the upper one with most
beautiful butterflies arrayed in every colour,
and the lower having a vastly pretty collec
tion of birds' eggs, some most rare, including
that much wished for whip-poor-will's. The
store in these two drawers was collected of
all my children. Indeed, I should be well
content with such a rich gift, coming to me
so unexpected, and showing such diligence
and love.
As to some general happenings this year, I
mention a few.
Horod Gardiner (so-called, though rightly,
Herodias) the wife of George Gardiner of this
town, hath gone all the way from here to-

59
Weymouth (near sixty miles), through the
wilderness, and with a babe at her breast, to
give her testimony, as the Quakers have it.
For this hath Governor Endicott ordered her
whipped and placed in prison. After her pun
ishment she prayed the Lord to forgive her
oppressors. Converts grow with each new
punishment. This Mistress Gardiner, then Long, was
married when but fourteen, at St. Faith's,
London, to one John Hicks, who brought her
first to Weymouth and then here, but de
serted her on differences arising between
them, and went away to the Dutch, and she
hath since become wife to Mr. Gardiner.
Mr. Cranston hath taken to wife Mary
Clarke, daughter of Mistress Vaughan by
one of her former husbands.
This year have the Pawtuxet men (Mr.
William Arnold not excepted, as I believe)
asked to be joined again to Providence, after
sixteen years subjection to Massachusetts,
hitherto at their desire. Mr. Arnold was a
ruling spirit in this, and hath often called
hard names some who held to Providence ;
but now is all happily ended, and so this
controversy ceaseth.
Thank God for all my blessings, and may I
use them better, is my prayer to-night.
1659. Jul. 1. This past month Mr. Scott's
daughter (Patience), going from Providence
to Boston to witness against persecution of

60
Quakers, was sent to prison, though a girl
only about eleven years old ; but this tender
ness stayed not their hardness at the Bay.
Sep. 9, Friday. I am minded to pay a long-
promised visit to Mr. Blackstone, and now set
forth, with my wife, also, whom Mistress
Blackstone much desireth, seeing little com
pany in that retired spot. It is now cooler,
and travel less hard than in our recent heat.
We arrived by pinnace to-night at Mr. Gor
ton's, in Warwick, where we do lodge ; and I
had long discourse with him and Mr. Greene
(whose father died of late), Mr. Holden, and
Mr. Holliman, they calling to see me on word
that I had come. Mr. Gorton liveth in great
quiet and content now, honoured by his neigh
bours, which the Bay should see, as one ever
considered by them so turbulent. He hath a
somewhat mystical religion, all his own, ¦with
quite a following in it; though I have not
gained, as yet, a clear knowledge of its mean
ing. My wife liketh Mrs. Gorton much. She
was of the Maplet family, and hath a brother
in Bath, Old England, a physician of repute.
Sep. 10. We again set forth, and I be
thought me to call on my old countryman,
Mr. Arnold, at Pawtuxet, where also I met
Mr. Carpenter, his neighbour. LeaA'ing the
trouble so recently healed here, we had con
verse more upon matters in Old England,
which I ever delight in doing with the older
sort of planters, like unto Mr. Arnold, they
carrying closer in their minds the past hap-

61
penings there than do the younger sort, who
left when but youths.
Mr. Carpenter is son-in-law of Mr. Arnold,
and came from Amesbury, in Wiltshire.
At Providence I tarried a little by Mr.
Smith's mill, where (as always at the miller's
and cobbler's) news doth center. This place
hath grown since last I saw it, though not ap
proaching Newport for size. I found not Mr.
Williams at home, but his wife saith he will
see us at Mr. Blackstone's ere we leave ; and
so passing on we arrived, toward evening, at
Study Hill, as Mr. Blackstone calleth his
home. He lives upon a rising ground just off
the river, some seven miles, or there-about,
from Providence, northward. Here he pass
eth his days in much quiet, delighting most
in' his garden and books. He hath some rare
kinds of both apple and pear trees, which
give so choice a fruit that slips therefrom are
in much request from all who know of them.
His library is better than often found in this
land, both of Latin and English, folio, quarto,
octavo, and smaller. Though he goeth not
forth much himself, choice spirits do oft seek
him from this colony, and some of the Bay.
Sep. 11, Sunday. Mr. Blackstone read
scripture, with lessons therefrom, most excel
lently set forth.
Sep. 12. Mr. Newman, minister at Eeho-
both, visited us. Him I had known at Wey
mouth. A godly and learned man.
Sep. 13. To Diamond Hill with Mr. Black-

62
stone, and found some rare crystals, ame
thysts and garnets, but no diamonds. From
this hill's top did see, at great distance, both
Wachuset and Monadnock, though not that
great snow mountain which I once gained
sight of in my early cruising eastward.
Sep. 14. Went to see Mr. Dexter's hme
pit and kiln, where he maketh a very good
lime, though no better than we get from shells,
at Newport, it thinketh me. He was a printer,
in England, and hath been one of their minis
ters, here. We have also been to see that float
ing island in Scott's Pond, which maketh its
"voyages, upon a time, as boats do. A wonder
ful thing.
Sep. 15. Thursday. We can tarry no longer,
though greatly desiring, for we have had
much pleasant and profitable discourse "with
Mr. Blackstone, who hath studied and thought
much and is ever glad to impart of his knowl
edge. His wife and mine have enjoyed, also,
of this their first acquaintance, for Mr. Black
stone did but marry this year, waiting till he
was older even than I in mj^ marriage. We
do both believe it our gain, this so long wait
ing, but there is this difference ; he did mar
ry a widow, and I a young maid. (She was
¦widow of John Stephenson.)
I had some discourse ¦^rith mine host upon
the danger that I feared this exposed spot
might place him in from Indians, but he ¦will
not see it so.
We have some hope that Mr. Blackstone

68
and his wife may yet visit us, though no
promise, for he goeth from home but on rare
occasion, save to Mr. Smith's, at Narragan
sett, where he seeth a duty to preach. A
boat leaving Providence, for Portsmouth, we
were by it there carried, and thence by horse
to Newport, with a stop only at Mr. Baul
stone's for some speech of him and a little of
his claret. Truly a pleasant journey to us
both. Sep. 17, Saturday. Mr. Holliman, of War
wick, died this day, he whom I saw but so
lately. He was of the older sort, and came
from Tring, in Hertfordshire. He hath left
but one child (wife to Mr. Warner), and a
reputation for good works and deeds.
Nov. 15, Tuesday. My brother Gould hath
¦writ a book of the sufferings put upon one
Stevenson and Eobinson, for their Quaker
ways, with something of his own oppression
for the same cause, and of his being tied to a
gun, whipped, and imprisoned on a visit to
Boston. Yet I hear not of conversion of any
Quakers from their belief.
Dec. 81, Saturday. One Christopher Hold
er, after whipping and losing an ear in Mas
sachusetts, for his Quaker ways, is lately ban
ished, and may yet bring what they have left
of him, here.
1660. June 1, Friday. Mary Dyer, ¦wife to Mr.
William Dyer, of this town, was to-day put to
death at Boston, for her beliefs and the utter-

64
ing of them, so seeing her duty, though of
late reprieved on the scaffold and warned
against more offending. She was, indeed,
held back a little space by her husband and
son, yet would she finally go and again give
her testimony, and hath most cruelly been re
paid. So persuasive a tongue had she, and
was of so comely a person, that she was
hemmed in by soldiers, with drums beating,
from prison to gallows, lest the people might
see and hear her more clearly, and be moved
thereby. A monstrous bloody and most cowardly act
in Mr. Endicott ; yet is he neither monster nor
coward, for I have known him well, being at
Salem before he came and after, and when he
cut the cross from the flag, was I there. He
is of that sort that would be as hard even to
himself as to others in mistaken duty toward
God, and like all who try to construe His
word and mete out justice, doeth it but ill.
Such would do well to remember " Vengeance
is mine ; I will repay, saith the Lord," and
study more upon Christ's way with sinners.
Men of his kind may make the hardiest sol
diers, but are ever poor guides, counsellors,
or judges for our frail flesh.
Continued oppressions are stirring the peo
ple to much pity at last for the Quakers (even
with those who have condemned them hith
erto), and this last cruelty will, more than aU
before, increase the murmuring, that already
maketh some of the magistrates and elders to

65

hold their hands. I have thought that there
hath been too much of this stern dealing and
sour religion in many ways, and especially in
the bringing up of children. In my early
days, under that great and good Queen Eliz
abeth, it was the wont to give more time to
sport and pastime than now they do, nor can
I remember harm that came of it. I would
be as far as any from countenance to gaming,
carousing in drink, or any looseness such as
Morton and his unholy crew diverted them
selves with at Merry Mount; but this hath
naught to do with the yielding all proper pas
times to the young, and the furthering of
them by their elders.
This year did Massachusetts grant me 500
acres, as a final issue, in lieu of former Indian
grants at Jeffrey's Neck, in Ipswich, and I
shall shortly sell this last grant.
1661. Appointed Commissioner.
Shares have been taken by many this year
at Misquamicut (Westerly), though not all
who take will settle there. On some com
plaint as to their title, Mr. Benedict Arnold
said he would lie in prison seven years ere he
would try the title in Boston. He would only
try it in Ehode Island or England.
Contributions are desired by the colony, of
£200, for the Agents in England to procure
us a new charter.
Block Island, at the south of us, far at sea,
hath settlement this year, also, mostly by
5

66
Braintree men, of whom a chief one is Mr.
Eay. We have news of the coronation of His
Majesty King Charles 11, at the Abbey
Church, Westminster, in April last, and of
the brave procession in the streets, they be
ing strewn with flowers, the fountains run
ning wine, and the people shouting for joy.
It is a sight I would fain have seen ; but,
not able so to do, can only, with most others
here, echo the shoutings and give thanks for
a happy deliverance at last from the disloyal
ties and disorders for which that rude Crom
well Avas most responsible in his day. He
did have some folloAving here in his time of
power, as all men then have following ; but
yet were our people in the main most loyal.
We hope soon for a charter from the king,
which shall be so broad as to show he knows
and trusts our loyalty.
Oct. 27, Sunday. Went to a meeting of the
Quakers, or Friends, which I had long i3rom-
ised me to do, though not to others. After
some silence, which had a kind of solemnness
to it, the Spirit did at last move one to speak,
who chanced to be my brother Gould, one of
their ministers, though all are free to speak.
He did exhort right well, though a little too
much of toning his voice up and down, but
the matter was good ; and then a prayer from
the women's side (for they sit separate), which
was a message to any Avounded spirit among
us, sweetly voiced, and most modestly, noth-

67

ing misbecoming. Then, after more silence,
the meeting closed by gravely shaking of
hands. Hats were by many kept on the head
during all the time. Here, where freedom to
worship is granted, the fanciful and fanatical
ways are dropped, and much good remains.
The Quakers have a simple marriage cere
mony, with a host of witnesses signing the
certificate ; and I believe their keeping of
records of their births, marriages, and deaths,
to be the best of any ; whereby future genera
tions may read clearly much that would else
be lost.
1662. May 1, Thursday. Upon this May Day
(in Old England, though not observed here
to any degree), did I, with my wife behind
me on my good horse, set out for Mr. Bar
ker's ; he desiring to sell me a stall of bees.
He lives near three miles to the eastward from
us, toward the woods, so-called, about a mile
north of Sachuest Beach, and only a short
space from that fair spring of water by the
Green End way from town, that being the
course we travelled.
Mr. Barker is of that younger sort of men
I have before writ of, with not much remem
brance of England, which he left when but a
lad ; and his father, dying on the voyage, did
place him in the care of the boy's aunt, after
ward Avif e of Mr. Easton. He is one of our val
ued younger men, and we discoursed, pleas
antly, on his planting here, the new Mis-

68
quamicut purchase, at Westerly (wherein he
hath a part), the hopes for a new charter, &c.;
during which time my wife and Mistress Bar
bara could decide as to some new fashion
ings of gowns, and talk of their poultry, but
ter, and spinning, Mr. Holmes' sermon, and
the betrothings of some youths and maidens,
if report be true, as heard by them.
Mr. Barker hath a special good kind of old
cider whercAvith we refreshed us, and then all
went to the top of that great peaked rock
south of him a little. Here the prospect of
land and sea is, I believe, the fairest in New
England, for beauty in the laying out, the ex
tent thereof, and the variety of landscape;
meadow, hill, dale, and woodland in fair pro
portion near us, with a most extensive view
on the sea-line from Narragansett to the
Elizabeth Islands and Gay Head ; this last,
more than a score of miles eastward, shoAving
most beautiful array of varied colours in the
light of the declining sun. Mr. Peckham, a
neighbour, joined us, having observed our
party on the rock, and after some speech of
him we went down again to Mr. Barker's, and
so home.
Nov. 11, Tuesday. Gave out somewhat of
my wife and daughters' spinning to be wo
ven. We have a very good weaver near us.
Dec. 25, Thursday. Had a well-fatted tur
key for our Christmas dinner to-day, instead
of the goose which hath been my wont here
as in England. We think it eateth even bet-

69
ter. My Avife's poultry hath suffered lately
from an old hen-hawk, that my son to-day
shot just as he had seized a fine young pul
let. These hen-hawks be a great nuisance to
us, but not so the larger fish-hawks, which
prey not on poultry and are protected by us,
especially the fishermen, as helping them in
hovering over schools of fish.
2663. June 8, Monday. Went out in my boat,
which, though small, saileth well, and fetched
around the entire coast of Conanicut ere
night befell, making two landings thereon.
Do not find many have builded yet. Off Bea
ver Tail the sea was running high to-day.
Jul. 9. At the smith's, where I had my
horse well shod (he needing sadly, as I had
near found to my cost in his stumbling), there
came in Mr. Cranston, on like errand. He re-
porteth not much sickness, and hopes that
those he hath care of may soon be recovered,
they showing good disposition to it.
Aug. 1. Last month John Smith, of War
wick, died ; merchant there, and President of
the colony, some years since. He leaveth a
widow, but no children.
Nov. 16, Monday. Hunting to-day for that
sly old fox that lately despoiled me of a fat
turkey, that I would fain be making a little
! fatter for present use ; but it was labour for
naught except Eeynard's behoof. Him have
I at last kiUed, ¦with the help of my good dog,
and Avill now look more closely to my bars.

70
In hunting him I came upon some wild geese
that he was watching for a meal, and gained
one good fat one to pay for my turkey's loss.
News reached me a few weeks since of the
death of my brother Thomas, and that he was
buried at Chiddingly on the 16th of May. In
his will (dated April 20th, and proved July 2d
of this year), he desires to be buried as near
as possible to the monument of his father in
Chiddingly Church. He remembereth the
poor of Chiddingly, Hellingly, and Hails
ham, and his servants (some ten in number,
including bailiff, clerk, other men-servants
and maids) — and left a special legacy of £100
to his nephew (my son) Thomas, who was also
to have, at age, the Perry lands, so-called
(near unto the Peaks where my brother did
live) — to be for him and his heirs male, &c.
If his nephew Thomas die before coming of
age, his sister Mary and other sisters to have
the £100 in certain portions. The mansion-
house and homestead of the Peaks, my
brother had already given to his daughters,
as stated in his will, before making that pa
per. To his grandson, Jefferay Boyd, he
gave some estate, and names as executors,
daughter Fowle and son-in-laAv John Boyd.
I am much saddened at this news of the
death of my dear and only brother, who hath
so well kept up our name ; and I am deeply
moved tliat he hath so generously provided
for my son, the last of this branch of the Jef
feray s in the male line.

71

Eehoboth doth grieve at the death of their
minister, Mr. Newman. Among other good
works, is his concordance, on which he la
boured many years.
This year hath been brought to us, by our
trusty agent, Mr. Clarke, that Eoyal Charter
so much desired, and now granted by His
Most Gracious Majesty, King Charles II.
Our first Governor under it is Mr. Benedict
Arnold, a worthy choice.

1664. Apr. 19, Tuesday. Mr. Cranston, calling
at my house, on some small sickness of one
of my children, gave me good occasion to
show my gladness at the recent public evi
dences of esteem in his skill, and of his li
cense to administer physick, and to be re
corded as Doctor of Physick.
Aug. 13, Saturday. We all went to Co
nanicut for huckleberries, which there so
abound that we picked a half bushel. Killed
a large black snake, though harmless. My
wife maketh a special good kind of pie of
this berry, in a deep dish, with top crust
only. This year was chosen Deputy.
Dec. 31, Saturday. Not much to set down
this year. Life passeth peacefully, in good
content.
1665. Feb. 20, Tuesday. Mrs. Easton died;
once wife of Mr. Beecher. (Mr. Easton's
children are by an earlier wife.) She was

72
aunt to Mr. Barker, he coming to America in
her care, when but a lad.
This year did William Field die, of Provi
dence. He had some 'dealings Avith Barba
does. He leaveth a wife but no children.
Mr. Willett hath been chosen Mayor for New
York, the first English one, for the Dutch did
surrender Manhattan but last year. He is
well liked there, and, having learned the
Dutch while at Leyden, is now helped there
by in his office.
1666. Jan. 5, Friday. Mr. Eoger Mowry, of
Providence, died. He leaveth a large family ;
a widow and ten or eleven children, some al
ready married.
May 1. Mr. Ehodes, of whose death, by
drowning, I meant earlier to have Avrit, was
one of the valued men at Pawtuxet, where
he long dwelt. A little before his death he
had been committed in Massachusetts, for
saying, " The court has not to do in matters
of religion." Atrue saying, nevertheless. He
married a daughter of old Mr. Arnold, and
leaveth a family.
Sep. 1, Saturday. Lately did die, Mr. Eich
ard Smith, at Wickford, which pained me
much to hear, for I ever valued his friendli
ness, and counsel. Mr. Blackstone Avill be
much saddened at the news. Mine ancient
friends begin to be gathered to their fathers,
and so am I Avarned that my time approach-
eth. I heard not of Mr. Smith's death till too

73

late to go to his funeral ; whereof I much re
gretted and have wrote a letter to his son,
that he might know of my inability, and deep
grief, at his losing so good a father and I so
dear a friend.
Nov. 1, Thursday. News arrives of that
great fire in London, not to be matched by
any yet seen in the world. For three days
(commencing September 2d) it raged, being
visible at night for forty miles around, and
consuming over 10,000 houses, in Cheapside,
down to the Thames, Fleet St., Cornhill, Old
Bailey, Newgate, -and much more, even that
great St. Paul's Church, that I so oft have
seen, and, indeed, been to service there. All
that is burned is familiar ground to me. The
sight from across the Bridge, in SouthAvark,
looking to London, was most grand, 'tis said,
though horrible, and I am not sorry to be
spared it.
The estate I had in Southwark, from my
mother, came not into the limits of the fire,
though almost in the heat and glare of it.
This dire loss in London, following on that
dreadful plague, has caused much suffering
-and dismay to those who be left there, and
to us who once lived in London, much grief
at such desolation without warning. Mr. Wil
liams may well rejoice that St. Sepulchre
Church was spared, where his parents did
worship, and where, also, if I bethink me
aright, that brave Captain Smith lies buried,

74
he Avho first came to Virginia with an English
settlement. Nov. 25, Sunday. Dreams do not come to
me overmuch, nor do I deem it wise in gen
eral to give serious thought to what these
sleep distempers seem to say, nor profitable
to relate of them to others. One I had last
night, however, which, if something confused,
yet had enough sense in it to be worth the
telling to my family.
It Avas of lights and shadows flitting by,
and finally taking form in two men going
about the world near one another. The one
was ever lighting and lightening the ways
and loads of his neighbours, the other did
seem to find most delight in putting on of
burdens, laying stumbling blocks and casting
his shadow across every bright place. I think
it must have been a tale of one of my neigh
bours that did cause this dream. It seems
that another neighbour of ours hath been
making much mischief by his meddlesome
ways ; ever trying to straighten others' paths
by his own (though these oft crooked enough),
giving much unasked advice, zealous as he-
b elieves for good works, but much of it mis
taken zeal. There be always some such,
sometimes well meaning, but vastly tiresome
even to their friends.
As the rain did prevent our going to church,
we fell to talking of our favorite scripture
texts, I giving as mine, one from the old book,
and another from the new: "Deal justly,.

75 '
love mercy, walk humbly with God " — and
the " Golden Eule," that all of us do know,
but few do follow. My wife gave, " Trust
God and do good, so shalt thou dwell in the
land, and verily thou shalt be fed."
1667. Mar. 1. Last month was married Mrs.
Vaughan's son, Walter Clarke, to Hannah
Scott, of Providence. (His second marriage.)
Her mother was of the Marbury family.
(Both Marbury and Scott old English names.)
Jul. 10, Wednesday. Now am I set forth
again, this time to Block Island, which, hav
ing never seen (save at great distance), and
hearing good report thereof, Avith some won
ders there, I have taken the opportunity of a
ketch voyaging to Virginia to land me as she
passeth, thinking to return by one of their
own boats that on occasion come to Newport.
I had like to have been carried to Virginia,
too, for as we fetched the island, and lay off
with signal, the -wind made so hardly, Avith a
rough sea, that I doubted if any boat would
venture us. One did, however, and, she fall
ing something in our lee, I jumped, on her
rising a wave close to us ; and, 'scaping the
staving of the boat, which seemed likely, got
safe to shore, with only a wetting from the
waves that brake upon us. Hastening then
to Mr. Bay's, one of their main men, I was
greeted by him with dry clothes and a most
welcome hot supper; and did myself set
forth, afterward, some good claret, whereof I

76
had brought a bottle of Mr. Baulstone's for
Mr. Eay.
Many strange things of the island were
related by Mr. Eay, as of the Indian method
of sweating out fevers in a kind of oven ;
the force of the sea at the bluffs in heavy
gales ; the wonderful store of fishes about
the island ; their great pond, &c.; while I
did tell what I could remember of recent
happenings, the news whereof had not yet
reached here.
Jul. 12. Mr. Eay took me to see Mr. Sands,
who, having considerable estate, doth enter
tain strangers in much the same manner ; and
as Mr. Eay frequently instructs in religion, so
doth Mrs. Sands act as a physician to the
dwellers here, particularly in the births of
their children. Neither Mr. Eay nor Mrs.
Sands can have much reward for their ser
vice, nor do I hear they desire it. Mr. Sands
went with us to the great bluffs, upon which
the sea was beating Arith mighty fury, from
the gale lately broke, and thence we went to
see the holes, or ovens, in Avhich the Indians
do place themselves when fevered. They first
line them Avith heated stones sufficient to cre
ate so great a warmth (being confined Avith
mostly no outlet) as causeth a mighty sweat
to break forth upon the body. This, after
some continuance, is changed by a plunge
into the cold sea-water, and a cure wrought,
as claimed by them.
We now Avent about to see that great pond

77

(of near a thousand acres, I should guess),
wherein is sufficient depth for a navy, but
which hath so narrow and uncertain an out
let to the sea (sometimes altogether stopped)
that it Avill not serve for a sure harbour, of
which this island hath none other.
They cure the codfish, which here abound,
in much the method used by me when at the
Isles of Shoals in former times ; and a most
excellent fish is their cod, superior to most I
have seen.
Jul. 13. The sea somewhat abating, Mr.
Eay engaged one Tristram Dodge to go out
with us for swordfish, which are plenty here
and very good in the eating, though by some
esteemed coarse. Their taking gives rare
sport, and we much hoped to sight one. This
soon doing and a spear thrown into him, being
very large and gamesome, he led us a pretty
race ere we finally dispatched him, and he
proved a very handsome prize ; as large a one
as ever I saw.
Mr. Dodge was aforetime of Newfound
land, being procured thence by the first com
ers here (mostly Braintree men), to teach
them the way to catch their codfish, &o.
There is some farming here as well as fish
ing, with an increasing stock of cattle and
sheep, especially in the case of Mr. Sands,
who hath more lands and means than most.
Firewood can be had for the present, and,
if the trees are not sufficient, with growth of
people, or waste in their cutting, there re-

78
maineth a kind of muck, or peat, that can be
dried and burned.
Jul. 14, Sunday. Mr. Eay did preach, most
of his neighbours being gathered to him, as
is their custom on this day of the week.
There were present Mr. Sands, Mr. George,
Mr. Dodge, Mr. Eathbone, Mr. Dickens, Mr.
Eose, and others whose names were unknown
to me.
Jul. 15. Eeturned to Newport on a sea as
smooth as it was formerly rough in my com
ing. This was the more fortunate because
Mr. Dodge, with Avhom I voyaged, hath but a
small boat, and open at that, yet will she live
in a very heavy sea, as Mr. Dodge telleth me.
All their boats have this good reputation, be
ing of a peculiar build, deep, lap-streaked,
pointed at both ends (each shearing upwards);
with two masts having no stays to them, and
no head sail.
My wife, who feared much from the gale,
rejoiceth to have me to her again, and I no
less to greet her.
Sep. 1. At our supper a dish of succotash,
Avhioh we did all much enjoy.
Dec. 31, Tuesday. I fear my Journal a lit
tle neglected for a few months. I was this
year chosen upon a commission to make a
levy of £150, for prison, pound, and stocks,
and the mounting of the great guns.
1668. May 18, Monday. Called upon Mr. Ca
leb Carr, and, having finished our business.

79
did then ask to see his rings, of which he had
aforetime spoke, as having a fancy that way.
He showed me a number, of which I noted
chiefly his seal ring, and another much worn
of him, called "Hand and hand, and heart
within," which is curiously wrought to ex
press it. He showed, also, his silver beer
bowl, &c. There is now a considerable silver
in our town. Mr. Arnold, being well able,
has cups, bowls, beakers, and porringers of
it ; and others some store, also, as Mr. Bren
ton, Mr. Coddington, &c., and myself some.
The houses and their furnishing have much
bettered since first I came here, near a score
of years ago.
Dec. 31, Thursday. I did think when I com
menced this Journal to have kept it more
constantly, but find I must ee'n do as I can,
many things oft preventing, and important
happenings chancing rarely.
1669. Jan. 1, Friday. There are books that
have been written (and some printed) by men
of this colony, well worth the reading, as
those by Mr. Williams, Mr. Clarke, and Mr.
Gorton. Of English books we have here
in Newport, if rather scanty supply, yet a
considerable reading is had by exchange
which some of us do in a kind of club way,
with meetings at our houses to discuss them,
and to hear late news of this colony and of
our neighbour colonies and England.
So, Avinter evenings, with a good fire, and

80

some refreshment near, we pass our time
right pleasantly and to good profit. Those
who in particular thus meet are Mr. Arnold,
Mr. Brenton, Mr. Brinley, Mr. Coddington,
Mr. Clarke, Mr. Vaughan, and myself, making
seven, hence the saying of a wag :
" This band of seven
Hath all the leaven!"
while another calleth us " The Seven Wise
Men of Aquidneck." As the books we have
are now mostly read, and some due unto us
from England still delayed in the coming, it
hath been proposed, this winter, that, for the
next seven weeks, meetings shall be held of a
Friday evening at seven of the clock, each
member telling a tale at his own house. So
now we are met, this New Year's Even, at my
house, being somewhat the elder, and thus to
tell the first tale.
With a bright fire on the hearth, and pipes
lit of some (whose smoke readily draweth up
my chimney), after seeing good drink placed
where my friends can reach it, I commence.
MB. JEFFEBAY'S tale.
THE SEA SEEPENT;
OR, THE STRANGE VISITOR.
It is known to you all, that many years
since I adventured somewhat in fishing, and
with my company did use the Isles of Shoals

81

as a convenient stage for drying, curing, and
lading. It was at my last being there that a
most strange happening befell, and it is of
this that I am now to tell.
My curing was done and my shallop nearly
laden, when, upon an evening, as we rested,
after a hard day's toil, the youngest of our
party, a lad, started up, saying that he heard
the sound of oars. This we denied, as not
possible, the main being far away, and no
vessel on horizon at sun-down.
Soon, however, we all heard the same sound,
slow, and in regular method, still faint, but a
little nearing. It was a wonderful still night,
but very black, the stars o'ercast. As the
sound ceased, we listened for the grating of
the boat when drawn up on the shore, but
hearing not this, and no more sound, we
thought it was all but fancy.
I had put a fresh log on the fire, now flick
ering low, when, just as the light flared up,
our door sprang open, and a figure stood
there, which for a moment I saw clearly, and
then (the light dimming somewhat) in more
shadow. But what I did see at that first had
been a short, squat, man, though very broad,
bowed in the legs, and of swarthy hue, Avith
bright eyes o'erhung vdth the heaviest hairy
brows that ever I saw, and a large ring in his
left ear only, which I noted in particular for
the oddness of it, though one in each ear is
common to sailors.
6

82
" Good even to you," quoth I, " whence
come you, my man, and on what errand ?"
" A good evening enough to some," growl-
eth he, " but not to those here who tarry be
yond to-night."
His answer vexed me somewhat, so churl
ish was it, and I said, "you are an ill-spoken
guest, but sit you down and tell us why we
tarry not as long as we Avill, which, rest you,
we shall do."
"I bring you a warning," answered he,
" but first would have a pipe of tobacco."
This weed was not in so much use then as
now, but one who had joined us from Vir
ginia had of it, and spared him a pipe full,
which having lit, and puffed great clouds of
sm.oke, that almost hid him from us, he said :
" My Avarning is this ; tarry you here be
yond to-morrow's sun and you AA^ill all be
food of the sea-serpent ! "
This caused some stirring among us, and
the lad crept closer to me, for many an idle
tale of this monster was abroad, as of his
being seen at Cape Ann, stretched in the sun
asleep, and of his Avaking and rolling into
the sea Avith great splashings, then making a
most horrible roaring, his wide jaws opened,
showing the red within, and his glistening
teeth. Therefore we Avaited in some anxiety
the further speech of this strange man, so
strangely come to us. He proceeded :
" Here dwelt I, as forced from loss of my
boat (and until I was took off by good

88
chance), for three weeks time, and it is thus
I know that the sea-serpent's home is even
here, under you, in a great cavern."
Though I could hardly see my companions,
the fire having been covered on the visitor's
complaint of its heat, I felt that aU were rest
less and ill-content at the words, " here under
you." But he went on :
"It was an evening much like unto this
when first I saw him, and it was in this Avise :
there was much of that phosphorus bright
ness, as some do call it, in the water, and
about this island there seemed a special
bright ring of it ; a circle encompassing all.
Wondering at this, and marvelling at its
beauty, suddenly it broke ; and a grisly head
arose, shaking a great shower of drops which
lighted up the most horrid jaws and red
mouth, that, with its great teeth, one might
only dream that such a thing could be. Then
came forth from him a fearful roar, with a
slashing and beating of his tail in the water,
that so terrified me that I fell into a swoon.
Now, waking from this, in a cold sweat of fear
and trembling, I heard a grating noise under
me ; at which, having been flat on my face, I
got me up, and beheld only the tail and half
the length of the monster. At this I much
wondered, till I saw that the head of him
had gone into a hole under this island, which,
small at the opening, must have a cavern be
yond, where the monster doth live and bring
in his prey. This grating, too, is a most hor-

84
rible noise that I hope none of ye may hear,
for it is worse than his roar, through think
ing he could raise this whole island if he was
enraged to do it. Yet was my saving there
by, for, losing one of his scales, in so rubbing,
being roomy and of great power to float, I
escaped thereby through using it as a boat,
which ye may see, for I still use it. Do ye
handle not the sharp edge of it, however, for
a wound of it will stiffen you dead."
My people began, some of them, to shake,
and the boy did whimper, but I stilled him,
and bade our guest go on.
"There is not much more to tell," said he,
" though much I might, as of some mermaids
that were disporting themselves in the moon
light, when he did suddenl.y pounce upon
them and crunch them in his jaws right
quickly. Methinks I can hear their shrieks
now, and the noise of his crunching of them ;
and they of such exceeding beauty, and
pretty, playful ways in their gambolling, that
it seemed more the pity to have such a fate.
It almost makes me weep, the thought of it."
(Yet I perceived not that he did weep, ex
cept a queer sniffing be that.)
" And this crunching that I speak of makes
me think of your fate," said he, but spoke no
more ; and we all mused a space, still shaking
somewhat, he puffing such clouds as quite
choked us, yet none durst speak, until, at last,
I said : "Well, strange guest, for strange thou
art, and not of our asking, thou tellest a queer

85

tale, and hast told it well ; but what know we
but that it be for thine advantage onl.y, and
to drive us thence from a fat fishing ground,
that thou mayest have it for thine own ? "
No answer came, and we sat on, a space,
still wondering, till, at last, the boy whispered :
" I hear the oars again, the strange man hath
left us ! " We listened, and, indeed, there did
seem the same sound, and I sprang forward
to the door, which, though shut, the man (if
man it was) had passed through. Perchance
he did this when we were coughing and
sneezing at his smoke ; but, be that as it may,
he was gone, as he came, without sound of
latch, and through a door that ever creaked
in the using, yet heard we no noise.
At daylight, my men persisting, we got un
der way, nor could I even detain them enough
to do a little more lading that remained, so
frighted were they, and I somewhat, also, as
I will freely confess.
Now upon this tale being told, so many lit
tle tales did hang themselves thereby, in the
discussing that followed, of sea-serpents and
such like monsters, that it was agreed that
we shall all make our stories short enough to
give time afterward for some pleasant talk
thereon. Indeed, this talk did bring out sto
ries that were better than some of those I do
here set down, only, having them not kept
in any writing, but only of memory, it were
useless to trust that to tell them. (Our reg
ular tales are all to be writ before we meet.)

86
So we parted, at the end of our talk, with
hopes of all meeting in health this -day week
at Mr. Arnold's.
Jan. 8. The seven met this evening at Mr.
Arnold's, and after greetings and some relat
ing of recently come news, he proceedeth to
tell his story. ME. AENOLD'S tale.
THE GOBLIN LAND;
OR, THE DEATL's HEALING.
You know that I have done much trading
with the Indians, having learned their lan
guage passing well, and interpreting it some
what for others. In my adventuring among
them I have heard many strange stories, and,
though some of them be but their fanciful
imaginings, yet others, I believe, altogether
true in substance. Now this that I relate is
one of these Indian tales that I think hath
truth to it, and it came to me in this Avise.
I was upon going a voyage to the Dutch,
at Manhattan, for some trading, and when
finished there bethought me to continue up
that North river to the head thereof, for some
further trade. It so chanced that a Mohawk
sachem had come to the Narragansetts to get
of their peage, for which our Indians are so
famous that these Mohawks often gain sup
ply of it here (they not having proper shells
whereof to make it in their interior country).

87

Hearing of my voyage, this sachem asked
passage with me, as going near his home ;
which, I readily granting, we journeyed on
together till close to the final, when I thought
he would have left me. Knowing, however,
that my shallop must wait her lading, of
beaver and other skins, for some two or three
weeks' space, and wishing to return my kind
ness, as he esteemed it, he desired I would
go, with him as guide, to that mighty falls,
none other so great, of which you have all
heard, though none seen, as you have told
me. So, not to miss such safe conduct to this
wonder I had long desired to compass, we
did start, him leading well, till our safe arrival
there. Before this, when yet a score of miles away,
as seemed to me, we heard the great roar of
it, and, being come to a sight of the mighty
rushing flood, it was indeed an awesome thing
to look upon. Now I might of this alone, for
the whole evening's space, tell you, and then
not half the wonder of it ; but of this no more
now, for it is of greater wonders still I must
relate, though not seen by me.
It is an ancient Indian's story. He had
lived a few years by this Niagara, as they call
the falls, but the home of his youth had been
far west of it, being of another tribe, at the
head of that greatest and most western lake
of several that make a kind of chain. Here
he had oft hunted game, and, being strong
and venturesome, in one of his most western

88
goings, he came on the borders of an enemy's
country and was captured by a tribe of which
he remembered not then the name. He was
carried so far by them, still west, that he
thought never to see his home again, yet in
good fortune that his life was spared.
Now fell he sick, and, being a little recov
ered, his captors taking some liking to him,
did tell of most wonderful hot springs, where,
if a guide could be found to them, a final cure
might be wrought.
Many feared to go into the " Goblin Land,"
or "Land of the Wicked Spirits," as their
tongue maketh it, some having been tempted
in for game and killed there by Avizards in
divers horrible ways.
Finally a guide was found, who, consenting
to go in the then month of July, which some
said was free from spell, they did start on their
journey together, passing still westward, Avith
a little southing to it at the last. So high is
the place that they were at last come to, after
many narrow escapes, that snow blocks all
passing to it, save in the summer. It is so
among the mountains that some time befell
ere they had found the true entrance ; and
then, indeed, began the wonders, in the hear
ing of which I did so marvel that I tried to
shake him as to some of them being possible,
yet could I not.
It seems that, on entering, there was most
wonderful verdure and flowers, A^ith game so
plenty, and the air so sweet, as had tempted

89

many to their fate. Great trees were passed
in thick forests, and, finally, the springs were
come to ; some so hot that they boiled fish
and birds' eggs in them. In bathing, a cure
was quickly made of his remaining sickness,
and there was time to see all other wonders
ere the month was gone.
Near the springs a most beautiful sort of
terracing was found — salmon, red, brown, and
other shadings, being all of rock, with water
gently flowing adown them in a kind of thin
veiling, as it were. Farther on they came to
some great spouting springs that would break
forth after much rumbling and groaning un
derneath them, and at times, regular (or anon
without method), shoot high in air a vast
fountain of A\^ater. Others would cast out
mud from caverns, in one of which (whence
came forth most direful bellowings and belch-
ings) did the head goblin dwell ; though all
the springs and fountains had their own
spirits of evil.
This head goblin's cavern was so horrible
a place that they hurried by it for fear he yet
might come to claim them, as it would seem
by his roaring he much desired. When he
liath the power, he delighteth to sally out and
¦destroy all he may have appetite to devour ;
while for others he hath some special deaths
devised, that may serve his hellish cruelty,
when he desireth to bring forth his prisoners
and entertain himself with their writhings in
his tortures. But, passing quickly by his cav-

90
ern, they now came to pleasanter things, most
curious to see, as well as beautiful.
One spring did send forth a sort of mist,
that, covering all growing things near it, did
mantle them Avith seeming snow ; another did
bubble in a kind of pink paste, like fine mor
tar, and make of it beautiful flowers, rising
and falling ever, in lily forms in particular.
One spring was bubbling forth blackness,
like ink. There were pools of water so clear
that far down were seen fairy grottoes, with
blue lights dancing in them, and all so beau
tiful that one might almost Avish to dive in
and explore them. Some Indians have done
this, being over-tempted by the spirit watch
ing for them, and then never seen again,
being taken by under passages to the head
goblin's cavern, there to be eaten by him,
when fatted, or tortured for his enjoyment.
They saw, too, a mountain all of glass
(black in colour) and were now at last come
to a most beautiful lake, Avith mountains-
around it so high that the tops of some had
ever snow upon them. This lake was filled
with the best of fish, readily cooked by plac
ing in one of the hot pools near the shore..
Now, crossing the lake, are they come to the
mighty falls, which empty it from a height
greater even than the Niagara, but not so
great for volume, though vast indeed.
The last wonder they saw, and one of the
greatest, was the deep gorge below the falls,
whose banks are coloured in stripings of red„

91

brown, yellow, greenish, and other blendings,
all most beautiful to see. But, although the
month was not quite gone, so loud had be
come the bellowing of the head goblin (now
wild with rage, that he could not get at them,
and howling the louder as each day passing
brought him nearer his desire), that they
were much dispirited thereby ; and, feeling a
melancholy steal over them, which seemed to
hold them for his food, they struggled Avith
it, and did get over the limit of his estate
safely, though hardly able, so cast down in
spirits were they. Once over this, however,
their spirits grew strong, and they hastened
away from the cursed enchantment of a re
gion which, only for the goblins, would be a
wonder well worth a pilgrimage to try and
find. We were all agreed that if half the Indian
told were true, it would indeed be a land to
see, and fell to some debate, as to how much
were so and how much might be his fanciful
imaginings; Something in fact we made no
doubt there must have been, for Mr. Arnold
said he was more than usual intelligent and
honest appearing, and, though ancient, by no
means addled in his understanding.
Jan. 15. The seven being gathered at Mr.
Coddington's house ("New Lodge," in the
Neck), without much ado this evening's tale
was told ; for, the stories proving to have a
relish for all, we now get to them quickly.

92
ME. coddington's TALE.
THE SECEET MEETING;
OR, HOW A GOOD BAKING MAY COME FROM A COLD OVEN.
Whatever we may have heard before, this,
that I now do tell, I know for a true story,
having it of my father's relating, a grave and
sober man, not given to aught save truth in
his speech.
As we all have heard (and Mr. Jefferay may
have some knowledge of, as being elder), in
the days of His Most Gracious Majesty, King
James the First, much persecution was suf
fered by many called unbelievers (by those
in power), though this cruelty may not be
laid to the king himself. This rigour did
drive many good men across the sea to Hol
land, and, before and after that, did occasion
many secret meetings, for worship, of families
in England, which, being mostly discovered,
it went hardly with those attending.
At Boston, in Lincolnshire, where my father
lived, one of these meetings was held, and so
well kept secret, that through all that time
was it never discovered. My father planned
it, and in this way, as he hath told me.
There were already meetings held in Bos
ton, Avith some care, in time and place, to
avoid interruption of the law officers; but
these were as cunning as were they brutish,
and so often did come upon the place of meet
ing that my father conceived a method to

93

thwart them. This was to hold one meeting,
by a few, in a seeming secret place (but not
unreadily found) ; while another, for the rest
to worship, should be the real secret. This
latter meeting to be for the women and chil
dren, as well as most of the men ; while the
smaller one was to be but a blind hiding,
made up of some who suffered hardily for
the weaker, Avith turns at it for healing of
wounded bodies and spirits. My father did
stand his turn, and these smaller meetings
did seem to warrant the boasts of the offi
cers, that now were these wicked fanatics
dAvindling, and would yet be decreased out
of sight by the terrors of their punishment.
As to the real meeting, which was so hap
pily flourishing, some laxity having grown
from their fancied security made necessary
stricter rules, which, being followed, all was
well ; but it is of this once near finding out
that I must tell.
The place chosen for this meeting was a
bakery, the baker being one of them, and his
custom so condemned thereby that his trade
was lessened to these people only. They did
get their bread of him Sunday mornings, and,
arrived there, would wait for their loaves by
one of the ovens, the bread still warm from
its Saturday baking. There were two of
these ovens, the one in use being hot, and
another large one cold, not needed now, since
the baker's trade had lessened in the way I
spoke of.

94
Upon opening the door of this (generally
fastened), and putting aside a heaAry cloth
(hardly to be seen in the dark), a step or two
led down, and then by a little further passage
into a room large enough for their meeting,
and lighted with candles, warmed by the
next oven's nearness, and the air kept whole
some by openings into the chimney, whereby
a draught was made.
They soon feeling secure in this contriving
of my father's, caused that first laxness of
which I spake, and was near their ruin, com
ing about in this wise.
One of the officers wanting good bread,
and the other baker (of whom he AA'as used to
buy) making much poorer than this one who
supplied the meeting, the officer thought to
try it. In carrying out his desire he brake
in so suddenly to the baker's shop one morn
ing, that he got him by the outer guard be
fore due warning could be given to the meet
ing. Hearing now some rumbling of the un
derground exhorting, this did suspicion him
somewhat; and it now being stopped, he asked
what, that muffied sound had been. He was
somewhat put off by those he questioned, but
would needs poke about ; and, finally, even
opened the cold oven door, where, all being
dark, and nought in view except some rub
bish of bricks in front, and an old trap, he
murmured something of " Eats," and left,
with all behind breathing freer, at so narrow
an escape.

95
This near undoing was their making, nev
ertheless, for the story of this man's buying a
loaf (or rather he took it), of this unworthy
baker (so deemed by the rulers), did near
lose him his place ; and, fearing to be pun
ished by his discharge if seen there again, he
did hereafter keep far froin the place, as did
his fellows of the law, for like reason. So
there was most excellent baking and sermon
izing on every Sunday for many a year, and
hence the saying among themselves, but no
farther, " A good baking, but a poor taking."
After an agreement that we would all fain
try a piece of that good baker's bread, we had
further talk about other persecuting, some
among us having been sufferers thereby ; and
they in particular happy that their lot was
now cast where they were free from it. Then
we lit our lanthorns and went to our homes.
Jan. 22. The seven are met at Mr. Bren
ton's, who telleth his story.
ME. BBENTON'S TALE.
THE WITCH OF HAMMEESMITH;
OE, HOW AN ILL-ADAaSED JOUENEY GAINED NOT
HONOUR OE PEOFIT.
At Hammersmith, in England, I was born,
and so much did I love the place that I have
given, as you know, that name to my home
here at Nevrport.
It is of certain happenings at old Hammer-

96
smith, however, that I do tell you, this even
ing, your good patience attending.
My father having a pretty plentiful estate,
I was free from the hard labour of some,
which was, if part good for me, yet some evil,
perchance, for I had too much time for fan
cies and flightiness, Avith a natural inclining
that way at best.
It was when my mind was too full of these
things, I being then but eighteen, that I saw,
for once and all, the Aritch of Hammersmith ;
and it was of my own foolish seeking. I had
much heard of her and her league vrith the
evil one, by which she could foretell events ;
and, having many vapours in my head, of
great things to be encompassed by my Avit, I
must commence by showing my lack of it in
consulting a Avitch for my fortune. Few
cared to go to the old crone's cabin, many,
indeed, having never seen her ; for her glance
was said to blight and Avither more than it
helped. She had given out that if any would ques
tion fate of her it must be at dusk, and a
white mist rising from the stream in the wood
where she dwelt. Now this mist being chill,
rheumy, and unwholesome, and dusk always
an elfish time in her wood, Avith the bats fly
ing and frogs croaking, it wanted some hard
ihood of body, and a stout heart, to attend
her thus ; and no one had been known to go
tAvice on such an errand.
My fancies had taken form lately of a-going

97

forth in the world, for fortune and adventure,
and it was of the hopefulness of such a jour
ney that I sought answer of the Adtch.
So, resolved to try my fate at all hazard,
and despite advice (though I asked not much
of any one), I sallied forth one evening in
November, and, just as dusk was passing,
arrived at her door, after going through a
long space of woods. The white mist was
indeed arising slowly, and made the air of a
special chill, that liked not my blood, curd
ling the marrow of me, as it seemed. I had
scarce placed foot upon the door-step, nor
had I touched the latch, when I heard a most
unmirthful, cackling laughter, and a shrill,
cracked voice called out, " I know thee well
before thou enterest ; thou art old Brenton's
lad, the Devil shall have ye both, and I care
not ; who might help it, an I would ! "
To thus commence upon me with a double
curse did something dampen my spirit of
questioning, as also was I outward damped
and chilled by the mist lying all about me.
But in spite of this damping and cursing,
that I had so far got to for my pains, yet had
I a little hope, from her words, that she had
power to help, if not the Avish. So I did
enter, resolved to have more speech of her,
yet at first deemed no one there, so dark
was it within the room. The first thing I
could well make out was a bright green spot
in this blackness, and then a whirling of it
by my head.

98
Now some have since told me that this
must have been her black cat, yet none did
say this cat had but one eye, which must
have been, and she of special training, else
was this green brightness so thrown at me
nothing of earthly matter.
The door had slammed behind me as I
entered (howbeit a deathly still night and no
gust to move it), and at last I made out an
old woman, bent over the hearth ; and as she
muttered there, raking up some embers, they
flared up with that same greenish light, by
which I saw a face so unearthly as to make
me start and shiver, with the suddenness of
seeing it, and some cold, it may be. She had
a skin as of parchment long yellowed ; jaws
nearly met, with one only long tooth in each ;
hair so straggly-flowing as looked like snakes ;
and eyes red and bleary, yet sharp enough,
she turning from the kettle (where a most vile-
smelling mixture was a-brewing), and gleam
ing full at me. Now mumbling, "Brenton's
boy, and like him, ay and like his grandsire,
and great-grandsire, too, I have known them
all ; a curse on the whole race of ye ! '
She then changed to a coaxing voice, stiU
more horrid to hear than her cursings.
" Come hither, pretty lad, and taste my
brew ; it will warm and cheer thy very heart,
for I have put choice things to it ; a fat old
toad, I got from heart of rock, where he hath
lain these thousand years ; a spotted snake, a
green lizard, some ravens' livers, and bats'

99

hearts, with slugs, and snails, and herbs that
be called poison, but I know them as rich as
they be rare and hard to gather. All these
I have, and water, from a nice green pool,
though some call it noisome, to boil them in,
and other goodies, to spice and relish it."
Now, I, saying nothing yet, through loath
ing of her and her broAving, which last did,
by its vile smell, much sicken me, she turned
from me again in anger.
" Then, if thou Avilt not sup Avith me, get
gone, lest I tear thee with my long nails. I
know thy errand better than thy tongue can
tell it. If thou wouldst have thy wish, go
quickly, for 'tis close upon the time, and hie
thee to the blasted oak, close by the path
thou camest.
Go round about the tree thirteen times,
from left to right, and listen for the old owl's
cry. If he hoot, as his wont is, three times,
go thy way, there is no message for thee ;
but if he call only To-whit ! To-whit ! then
quickly dig with thy knife at the root of the
tree, on south side of it, and there shalt thou
soon find a ring, telling thee all thou wouldst
know. Now go ! " she shrieked, and it seemed
that her claws were almost upon me (which
till then I had not seen the horrid length of
her nails, so black), and I e'en fled the door,
having not said one word, that was to ask so
much. Once more she yelled at me, as she stood at
her door, " my sister knitteth thee some hose

100
for thy journeying" (of which I had before
heard nothing) ; " and thou wilt find her sit
ting behind that great rock opposite the oak.
Thou shalt know her by her grisliness, hav
ing no head, yet knitting very prettily ! "
I had heard and seen enough, and fled her
fiendish laughter right quickly, fall out of
breath I reached the oak, and, going about it
thirteen times, fell down, so dizzy was I ; and
there lay a space, Avith my back to the rock
she spake of, not daring to look even at the
front of it. "To-whit! To-whit !" hooted the
owl, so close at my ear that I thought he had
brushed me ; and, indeed, it seemed to me he
said, " To-what ! To-what! " was I brought at
last, for I seemed near my death.
I did spirit me up to scrape with my knife,
however, and soon found indeed the ring •
which, clutching, I ran from the wood Avith
all my speed, as if the old Avitch or her head
less sister was upon me ; for, indeed, I wanted
no hose of such knitting.
Arrived home at last, I gained my room,
unobserved by any, and, bolting the door,
quickly lit my candle and read from the in
side of the ring (trembling, still, from my
fright and labour), " Go forth and prosper."
Now, I had been thinking much of adven
turing upon a voyage ; and this ring, though
come about in such a Avay, did fasten the
thought upon me so that it was ripened to a
resoh^e. When I bespoke my father of it, he looked

101

at me rather sadly, I thought ; but, being a
man of few words, made not much speech to
me. "Thou art a fine grown lad," said he,
" mine only one ; whom I have loved better
than all else, save thy mother that died when
thou wert born ; but, I would not have my
love hold thee from what thou so desirest, and
art, indeed, old enough to have some mind
about. So, go my boy, though near man
thou art, and be true to thyself (for we can
not travel from ourselves) and to the love
that follows thee from thy dear mother and
from me ; thou Avilt not then go far astray."
That was all he said ; but, more cheerily be
stirring himself to fitting me out most fairly,
I was soon shipped upon a voyage to the In
dies ; of which I Avill only say, that I profited
not by it in purse, though some hardships
did brush away notions from my head that
had better ne'er found place there.
As I neared home again, I fell to thinking
much of my father, and what it had cost him
to part with me, which I now saw more clearly
than before ; and was firm re'Solved to help
him in all things right cheerfully, who had so
carefully sheltered and nurtured me.
Like manj"^ good resolves mine came too
late ; for I soon found, on landing, that my
father had died a month before ; and sad in
deed it made me that I could do nothing now
of those things that I had so fashioned out
in my thoughts as helpful.
I learned, also, that the Avitch had her spite

102
against my father for his committing her, long
since, when magistrate, she being convicted
of sone specially wicked practice. Knowing
his love for me, she thought by separation to
wound him most. Now here is the ring, for
you all to see whether you can tell the metal
of it ; which I cannot, nor any that ever I
have met. Perchance you can tell me, too, as
to that special note of the owl at the blasted
oak. Some to whom I have told this tale, have
deemed that the old witch got first to the tree
and gave forth the note ; but, if so, she was
indeed a witch, and must have flown through
the air and brushed me as the owl near did ;
for I was no laggard in running in those days,
and from her door to the tree, think none but
a witch could have distanced me.
We examined the ring with much of curi
ous interest, as to its metal and workman
ship, and then fell to talk about this Avitch,
whether she were indeed one, or no ; as, also,
of witches in general, whether such things
might be ; and so, without any final agree
ment, we separated, long before witch hours.
Jan. 29. The seven are this evening at Mr.
Brinley's, who, after giving us some late news
from England (that he hath from a Dutch
trader) , proceedeth with his story.

103
ME. BEDJLEY'S tale.
THE GHOSTLY EEVEL;
OE, THE FAIR NUN'S GIFT.
Mr. Brenton told you a story with a true
ring to it, and it is of a ring, also, that I would
tell, and how strangely I came by it.
Near Datchet, in Bucks, where I was born,
there are two old ruins, not far apart, one of
a castle, the other a nunnery, this last being
somewhat in better repair, or rather more
ruins left of it. It had some name of being
haunted, of which report I cared nothing, nor
went out of my way nights to escape it, until
after the happening of which I am to tell.
Eeturning late from a neighbouring village,
where some business had detained me, it was
just upon the stroke of midnight when I came
to the ruined nunnery, thinking not of it, till
I turned a corner full upon a lighted doorway,
from whence came a sound as of music and
dancing. The light so dazzled me, coming
upon it suddenly, that I did not at first see
any one near me, but now perceived that be
side the door stood an appearance as of a
a knight, fully equipped, who most courte
ously greeted me.
" We had hoped to see you," said he, " and
your partner is even now expecting you at
her side, to dance a measure with her."
So I, perforce, entered with him, the door
shutting behind us with so heavy a clang as

104
to shake the earth. A little startled at this, I
soon recovered, for all was vastly pleasing
within, and eleven knights stood on one side,
with twelve most beautiful nuns upon the
other, I passing through and taking my place
opposite the last, who curtesied most grace
fully. She was, though all, as I have said,
beautiful, by far the most so, both as to form
and feature, and her smile so sweet, her man
ner so gentle, that one might travel far and
not find her equal.
NoAv did we dance, most gravely and se
dately at first, but with more liveliness and
merriment soon, having most excellent wine
at one end of the room, from a great silver
flagon, to which we would, as occasion re
quired, betake us, and pledge each other, in
some curiously Avrought silver cups. Yet all
that we did was in good discretion, without
wantonness, as I have ever averred, when tell
ing this tale.
My partner was of such dainty ways and
manners, as quite delighted me, the more I
talked Avith her, though the purport of this
pleasant converse it mattereth not to tell now,
except of the ring. We had danced, and, rest
ing, talked, and anon danced again, until it
was, as I after found, near an hour (th ough it
seemed to me we had but commenced) when
she, who had been so gay, and blithesome,
with pretty sayings, and I think some tender
ness toward me,- looked upmost sadly, and
whispering "The time is near Avhen we must

105

part," glanced quickly about her, as if fearing
discovery, then, slipping a ring from off her
finger, bade me keep and wear it for her.
"This ring did my father give to me," she
said, " and I now give it thee, and as to what
it saith within, look not till we have parted,
for it is a word that my father said he who
rightly took me would like, but which I could
not in modesty say of myself, nor even see
thee read it. My father d.ying, I vowed I
would love no man, losing him, and so became
a nun ; yet have we one night in the year when
we do dance this measure, which I have done
but heavily, till to-night ; but now, since meet
ing thee " —
I was on deciding whether to await her fin
ishing, as she paused a moment, or to clasp
her to my heart without the waiting, when
there touched me on the arm that same cour
teous knight (whose courtesy seemed not as
great now, to so interrupt), and said :
"Thou art called for, at the door, most ur
gently." So, passing one look as we parted (she,
most sad, but I joyful, that, my errand done,
I should quickly return to her), I went to the
door, in some vexation at such rude summon
ing upon so nice an occasion of nearness and
dearness as had been ours, when, stepping
briskly out a pace to question of this intru
sion upon me, all became black behind, the
music stopped ; and, as I turned, in some be
wilderment, the door shut upon me with that
same great clang I heard when entering. I

106
groped, again and again, in the black outside
darkness, for the door, but could find nothing
of it ; and, at last, worn out with hunting, a
crash of thunder coming, with heavy rain, to
complete my misery, I got me home, well wet,
and saddened, too. By daylight could I not
find any appearance, even, of the door where
I had entered ; and so must I finally give up,
what for a long space I tried to find — a way
of entrance to the dwelling of that fair nun.
Now, some have said that my merriment
and Avine were, perchance, at the village, be
fore I came to the ruins ; and, that resting
there a space, sleep o'ertook me, and dreams,
which the thunder and rain broke in upon ;
but, to such, I but show the ring.
Others there be, who, knoAving of some
highwaymen oft hard pressed in that country,
think it was but their ruse to take some un
derground room as hiding for them and their
plunder, and then do somewhat to mark it as
sure haunted ; thus frighting people from their
hold. As to the nuns, they were simply the ac
quaintance of these robbers, so dressed ; but
my answer to this is, that the consortings of
such Avould not have had the modesty and
gentleness I spoke of.
Be this as it may, here is the ring, that, as-
you examine, you will see is marked inside,
" None so fair ; " which I did believe then, (as,
indeed, she Avas very fair), though this was
before I had seen your good dames and mine.

107
My wife seemeth to set little store by this-
ring, and would fain have me melt it to a bet
ter shape and use than thus hanging to my
chain ; but I keep it there, as I do tell her,
not for any love of it, now, but that, per
chance, some one wiser, seeing it, may tell
the meaning of it ; none doing so yet, to my
satisfaction. We thought this ring, and the story of it, a
good match to Mr. Brenton's witch ring, and
that both should be kept, for the present, by
them, for further light.
As to the appearance, seen by Mr. Brinley,
of the knights and nuns, it was remembered
by some that they had heard something of
such things, but never any with such direct
circumstance as his holding the nun's hand
in his.
Feb. 5. The seven are at Mr. Clarke's, andr
all being seated, he quickly commenced.
ME. CLAEKE'S TALE.
THE WEECKED GALLEON;
OR, THE SECOND COMING OF THE STRANGE ATtSITOE.
As you know, I was at London, many
years, agent for this colony to forward their
affairs Avith my best ability; and, latterly,
about the charter, which, once a matter of
difference between Mr. Coddington and my
self, is now happily healed.

108
I was in my lodging, in that great city,
having done all I could for this charter, and
something anxious as to what might come
from my labour, when, turning, I saw beside
me a most odd-appearing man ; though I had
heard no door open.
He was a sea-faring visitor, and this is a
sea tale, like Mr. Jefferay's ; nor is that all
the likeness, for the chief wonder of it lieth
in this — that the man was of the exact shap
ing of Mr. Jefferay's visitor, even to the ring
in his left ear, only. This ring I noted at the
first, and before he spoke, which he did ere I
could chide him for the rudeness of his en
trance. " I have sailed," he said, " in your America,
from the Isles of Shoals to the Caribbees, and
have a message to you from the last ; but,
first, I would fill my pipe. Have you good
store of tobacco ? "
" Not good store, my man," said I, " for I
use it not, as it somewhat choketh me even
when others smoke it near me ; still, I see
some here that a former lodger hath left."
This took he, without thanks, and before I
had done speaking ; and, filling his pipe, fell
to puffing forth great clouds of smoke, which
did choke me as I had said, thinking then he
would wait his smoking till he had left me.
" It is of treasure at the Caribbees, I speak,"
said he, " and of a chance for you to gain it
for your OAvn good, and others, too, if you de
sire it ; " using this last as a bait, I afterward

109

thought, as if he knew what I intended doing
to help learning and the poor at Newport.
" It is in this way," said he, " that I know of
the treasure. I sailed from Bristol, for Bar
badoes, a year ago, and, almost arriving there
we had thought to have made a good pas
sage of it ; which we would have done, truly,
had we not fallen in with a Spanish galleon
much heavier armed than we. She was well
laden with treasure, but willing for more if a
weaker vessel could be had ; and she did en
gage us, Asdth the odds so favouring her as to
carry us, too, though not till most in our ship
were killed. The rest, except me, were set
adrift in our boats, to gain Barbadoes if they
could ; which, however, I have never heard
they did.
I know not why I was kept, except my looks
did please them, or my knowledge of those
seas and islands, as of use to them. How
ever this may be, I was treated decently, and
soon found we had a rich freight, indeed ; be
sides coin and solid bars of gold in such mass
as never could I have dreamed it possible.
She was a good ship, and we should have
reached our next port right speedily, but for
a hurricane, coming upon us so quick, we were
dismasted ere we could furl sail, though her
hull was tight, and so we ran before it many
hours. When it finally left us, we lay be
calmed near a small rocky island. Toward
this we drifted, the current setting that Avay,
and finding, by sounding from our boats, a

110
channel, leading into a good harbour, we
drifted and towed into it ; safe from all gales,
and yet a wreck above our decks.
Now came about a strange mischance, just
as all seemed well. The boats had headed
to the ship (the towing finished), and every
man was in them, either for work at the oars,
or ordering of it, except my being on the ship,
for steering, as most skillful therein. Before
the boats could reach the ship, though so
near, an awful roaring, and then a rushing
upward of water, was all I knew, except a fear
ful lifting of the ship, and then a settKng that
I thought had sunk her.
When I came to, for I had been stunned
by the Adolence of the shock, I found her rid
ing at anchor, and naught to see of men or
boats. Then I remembered that we had our
anchor ready and cable overhauled, and saw
that the throwing up and down of the ship had
loosed the anchor, whereby she had run out
the cable, and thus anchored herself. As to
the men and boats, the rush of water, being
chiefly under them, had carried all up in the
air, and thrown them far outside the reef into
the ocean, where what was left of boats and
bodies must have soon drifted away, or sunk.
This, I then saw, had been one of those vol
canoes that throw up islands often, but in this
event only Avater ; though I found we had
shoaled our soundings half at our mooring,
showing that land had indeed made under us.
Now here was I, with good food, and drink

Ill

too (for we carried rich store of wines), gold,
more than most men did ever see, and yet did
chafe and fret, in this golden prison, that I
could not gain either freedom for myself, or
any means to carry my treasure where it could
be used to some good.
I now determined, that to escape some mel
ancholy, which I was falling into, I would be
stir myself, and explore the island, which, in
deed, I could see over all parts of, save at the
head of the harbour, where a mighty rock
did rise, only cleft for a stream, just visible,
coming forth from it.
Eigging a kind of raft, I got to the har
bour's head with it, and then found, that,
though the rock on all other sides did rise as
a wall, too steep and high to climb, yet, where
I had seen the stream, there was a gradual
stepping down of it, in basins, from its start
ing, half way up the cliff, to the harbour.
Wading up through these terraced basins,
the only way to rise (so narrow was the fis
sure, and steep the sides), I came at last to
the top, and found that the stream did gently
fall away from the most beautiful lake, of
deepest blue in colour, that I believe was
ever seen, (small though it was) ; and a high
wall of rock encompassing all (the upper half
of the cliff I had come through). Yet, as the
outside of this rock was so rough and drear,
all of this lining around the lake was of most
beautiful polished agate.
Now, close beside me, I saw, riding at her

112
little cable, fastened to the rock on which I
stood, a boat of such strange workmanship
that I could not at first come at the material,
but soon saw that it was the shell of a great
sea-turtle, though many times as large as any
I had before met.
It was of handsomer colour, too, and so
polished, that, shining in the sun's rays it was
like a fairy boat, thought I ; and, to prove this,
got in and rowed me across the lake, where
there seemed a kind of arbour, or grotto.
Indeed, so it did prove ; for on my landing
and passing a sort of gate of rock, I found
myself in a fairy grotto, surely ; for the roof
and sides were of pinkest coral, dotted with
great pearls like stars, and a coral table was
set therein for two, Avith most delicate and
beautiful shells for serving. But the greatest
wonder was the coral fairy ; for so I call her
from the place where found, and the loveli
ness of her complexion, which was of the
most beautiful light pink ; and the only orna
ment she wore was a single great diamond in
her hair, yet did it light up all A^ithin.
She rose to greet me with such grace and
sweetness, and was such a vision of beauty in
all Avays, that I was near blinded at the sight
of her.
" Strange visitor," saith she, " thou art wel
come, and, after some refreshment and con
verse on other matters, I wiU escape thee
from this island if that be still thy wish."
But now as we talked, and her beauty grew

113

on me more and more, Avith some gentle en
dearment, perhaps, of hers (for it has ever
been my fate to attract fair Avomen), it seemed
less hard to stay upon the island.
Still, she could see there was some resolve
left in me that way ; and, bringing me across
the lake, in some sadness, for we had talked
long and tenderly, she said: " I see that thou
wilt go to bring others for that gold that so
bcAvitcheth men. Go then, in this little boat ;
and, when thou comest again, bring it with
thee, and more love than now thou hast; then,
haply, shalt thou stay Avith me."
This was so sweetly, yet sadly said, that I
did e'en half think to stay ; but that was not
enough thinking for her, so, clasping her a
moment, I took the boat safely through the
basins (being very light and floatable), and,
storing her with needfuls from the ship,
started forth on my voyaging again.
Many days I sailed, having rigged a little
c&ivas to her, and, by good fortune (though
making no land), was taken up by a Dutch
brig ; and, keeping my secret well, was safely
landed in Holland, having good care to bring
my boat with me.
My lodging for a few days, while waiting
passage here, was at a Dutch widow's, she be
ing still young and very comely ; and, hearing
my story of the boat, and taking, I think,
more fancy to me than it, would hold it in her
care, she said, till I might more need it ; thus
getting some pledge for my return.

114
Now is my story nearly done ; here is a
chart to show where the island lieth, and, if
further proof thou wouldst have, there is the
boat in Holland ; which the widow Avill let go
if she gets me, and I am about made up in
mind to settle down at last with her, giving
thee the treasure, and fairy, too, if thou Arilt.
She is more ruddy than the fairy, and more
substantial, being very beamy, as we seamen
do speak.
What now wouldst thou do in my case;
stay here, by the more substantial one, so red-
coloured, or go back to the lighter-weighted
one, of delicate pink? And dost thou think
this last may sure be a fairy ? for, I do re
member me now, her arms, as they clasped
me, were warm ; which I know not whether
fairy's be."
" Now stay thy tongue a moment," said I,
" and, if I can talk with thy smoke near chok
ing me, I Avill give thee a word of advice.
Talk to me only of thy chart, and not more
of ruddys or pinks, nor any other of thy Avives,
which they do say sailors have in every port.
I know nothing of fairy's arms, whether
they be warm or not ; and have e'en been sat
isfied with one good wife."
" At a time, thou meanest ! " laughed he,
with a most unpleasant mirth.
Now this rudeness, as if he would predict
other Avives for me, and the losing of mine,
did so work me to a rage, that, though of a
minister's calling, I rose to punish his inso-

115
lence, but found nothing but his smoke and
chart remaining ; though how he left I know
not, hearing nor seeing nothing as he went.
Here is the chart for you to look into, Avith
a spot marked in pink upon it for the island,
and in the corner a mark as if the evil one
had put his coat armour there. I have never
been to find the boat, nor to the island Avith-
out it ; but Avill pass my rights to any who
care try.
At this last we could but laugh ; and, look
ing over the chart with much interest, fell to
talking of this strange visitor's second com
ing in so odd a manner (forty years after his
first, though not seeming to have aged in
looks), and then of his story.
Some thought it better, if any were to try
for the treasure, to go without the boat, as
that might hold the comer to the fairy, if
fairy she were ; while others thought the boat
might be necessary if the treasure. were to be
found ; these last thinking so gentle a fairy
might do no harm, especially if her blood
were warm, as related, which to them did
show she was no Avitch, at least, for their
blood runneth cold.
One, indeed, declared the whole story was
either false, or, if the strange visitor was
wrecked and rescued, he must have been out
of his head for a space, and seen his fairy
and her grotto then.
Feb. 12. The seven at Mr. Vaughan's, and
he telleth the last tale.

116
MB. vaughan's TALE.
THE WHITE HEEON OF BED-
FOEDSHIEE;
OR, HOAV A ArHITE FEATHER MAY NOT SHOW A
COAVARD.
This is a tale told unto me by my wife, she
having heard it from her father, the king's
faulconer, and thus it runs (the length there
of being his, not mine, so to be excused):
That princely art of hawking, Avhich already
waneth somewhat, and I fear may decline the
more (though none so noble to follow), I have
e'en done my best to maintain, since I knew
what a faulcon was ; and my brother Symon
hath writ a book, wherein he sets forth the
uses and curious ways of hawks and hawking.
It grieveth me sore to see any ebb in this
sport, which hath been my labour as well as
joy; but what vexeth me still more, at times
when I will let my mind dwell on it, is how I
could never rightly come at that great white
heron of Bedford, and it is of this I must tell.
What I relate befell me in my youth, when,
though well trained in faulconry, I had not
yet any advancement under prince or king,
not having come to that service yet. Still
had I much skill, if report spake true, and
haAvked it with some other gentlemen of our
county ; flying oft faulcons also for my own
behoof. It was when upon this last doing,
one day, that I first saw the white heron. He

117
was just rising from a marsh, and I almost
upon him, a young hawk with me, and this I
let fly at him, right quick. My faulcon, though
young, as I have said, Avas both strong and
fleet, the best trained of any I had, save one,
older ; yet so well did the heron fly, and so
play my bird, that he had soon left me won
dering at his fleetness, and how he had es
caped. I saw him not again for a month's space,
though seeking ; and this time on the other
edge of the same marsh, and thought my
hawk (that best and older one) would now
have had the quarry ; but dark coming on fa
voured his again escape. I now hunted him
morning, noon, and night, and was once so
close that I could see how great his wings
did spread, the wonderful whiteness of his
plumage (surpassing any swan's that ever
was), and the bright sparkle of his eye, which
last had (it so seemed to me) a vricked look,
as of some evil to be worked.
I went through the marsh a hundred times,
and at last by steps, every part of it, to find
his nest, or breeding place, but none did find,
nor any mate to him ; and when upon a day I
bad finished for very weariness, would I then
see him rise or settle in the midst of that
great marsh.
I had at last near cursed him, and per
haps did so (for I was young and something
violent then, and some say headstrong still),
which may have caused my near undoing

118
presently. Of this I will now relate ; for still
I followed him, though warned by ancient
people that he was a wraith, and of ill he
might do me, the peril double since the curs
ing that I almost did allow to. Now the way
of my near undoing, and thus not able to tell
this tale, was as follows :
I had promised, in a kind of jest, to a young
maid (my once schoolmate, but now groAving
into some prettiness, as I did begin to think),
that I would give her one of the plumes of this
bird, when I had got him. So, whenever her
I did meet, she would put on a pretty anxiety,
though rather saucy under it, and say, " Now
I know thou hast my plume, and I can write
my letter;" for she had a letter, she said,
which she would only write by a pen fash
ioned of that plume. When I said I had it
not, she would be much disappointed, or seem
to, and sometimes flout me a little, as — she
did not believe I did truly mean it for her,
and such like ; which ever made me more re
solved she should have it, for spite of her
Avords, if nothing else.
On the day of which I speak, the white
heron had drawn me on, in chase of him,
through the marsh, until, just at dusk (his
favourite time for flying), I was close upon a
black and most noisome quagmire, and he
so near that, in reaching, I almost touched
him ; but, missing him, made no such miss of
the mire, wherein I was near smothered, and

119
had not a branch held true, that grew o'er the
side of it, had surely then lost my life.
I had hoped to escape any passing on my
way home ; but, just at the stile, whom should!
I come fairly upon but that maid I spoke of,
who, startled at first, fell back, and then to
laughing as though she might never stop.
" Faith," said she, " thou must not look so
grave, but let me laugh a space ! " and then,
when she had her breath, she said, most pert
ly, as it seemed to me : " Now, surely it hath
been a black heron thou huntest, for, certes,
thou art arrayed in his plumage ! "
And, indeed, I was as black from the mire
as might have been any sweep from his soot.
Now I was something nettled at this jeer
ing ; and when she made pretence of looking
sadly, and said, " Alas for my white feather,
and my poor letter waiting ! " I made short
answer — " Thou hast come near losing me, as
well as thy white feather ; not that thou car-
est for my loss."
It was a churlish speech ; and, turning then,
and seeing her so white and piteous looking
for the danger I had been in, I repented me
sore for what I had said.
She only answered, " I am most sorry for
thy danger, and — " (here she halted for a mo
ment) " I surely would not lose thee."
Now did my heart leap within me, to think
it possible her heart could yet be mine ; for I
had been much drawn to her in spite of her

120
sometimes jeering me (albeit so prettily done
that it liked me to have her).
So I quickly said : " If thou canst love one
so clumsy of speech as I have been, I pray
thee take me forever ; for, trust me, I do love
thee with my whole heart."
" And I, thee," she said (so soft and low
that I did hold my breath), " and have knoA^m
thy love lately, hoping to tell thee of mine if
thou would but give me the chance."
Now this owning of her love (with the
sweet roguishness at the end of it, which I
did well deserve) did almost distract me, as
how to get her to my heart in these black
ened clothes of mine ; but love hath ever
found a Avay, and so did we.
Then fell I into a flood of questionings of
her ; as to how it could be possible she loved
me? Avhen first? would she ahvays do so?
and was she not afraid to spoil me by so
much as she was giving? and, lastly, as to
who was to have that letter when I got her
the ]3lume ? When I gave her fair chance to
answer, she said :
" If I can remember all, I Avill answer thee
truly ; and, first, as to the being possible, I
could not help it, fashioned as thou art
(though I mean not of thy present outward
garb of black!); and the beginning of it, I
scarce can remember ; but the ending, never,
dearest. As to my fear of spoiling thee by
such bounty of it, indeed hath it been said
truly, 'love's bounty ne'er needed salt to keep

121
any worth the saving ; ' but, as to that plume
and letter, I had a little secret ; which, indeed,
I must now tell, having none from thee hence
forth." Yet did she hesitate a little, and then said :
" If thou dids't gain the plume, I thought
to fashion of it a pen, and write therewith a
message to thee of my love, and place it in a
locket ; which, heart-shaped, I wear e'en now
next mine, but should be thine if thou dids't
claim me ; yet if I died unclaimed, haply thou
should then know how much I loved thee."
This, Avith a little tremble as she spoke the
last of it, did so affection me the more, if that
were possible, that I would e'en then have
started anew for the plume, if I could but
seize that without the bird, indeed ; though
much I wished the whole. But here she
stayed me :
" Thou art grown so dear to me," she said,
" if dearer can be, and I do now so fear the
danger of thy quest, that I would fain have
"thee forego it, and write my message with
another pen ; though it needeth now no pen
to tell my love. Besides," she saith, " I am
grown to quite a woman to know my mind so
well of man's love, and have a claim on thee
to spare thyself danger for me."
This, in so pretty a way of speech, and a
straightening so prettily to show how child
hood was left behind (though only then sev-
¦enteen), that I did at first think to give up
.my mad race. Yet, did I wish the plume for

122
her so, that I said, " Once more let me try,
and, failing, I will give up, indeed, forever;.
and, yet, thou knoAvest not how hard that
may be."
" I think I do know something of it," she
said, " and, also, of how sweet to men to pre
vail over us, as showing them their power
on our poor hearts ; but I know my power,
too, and have sweet content thereof ; for I may
but say it and thou wilt stay thy chase. Go,
however, this once ; and do keep thyself safe,
dearest ; and so in God's hands I trust thee."
It was so like a prayer for me that I be
lieved it Avould cure my curse upon the bird ;.
and, indeed, I was near ready to bless that
heron as a means of my knowing her love.
So once again I started forth, the next day,
and, folloAving carefully, as not to make my
one trial a failure, at eve did come to the edge
of that great cliff that o'erhangs the south
edge of the marsh ; and, strange to tell, did
start my quarry at that very edge.
Now was I so Avild that my beloved should
have her plume, that, forgetting all else, I
leaped fair at him as he rose to clear me, and
did indeed seize one feather of him, which,
rest sure I did clutch as a, drowning man a
straw. He gave a most horrid shriek, as of a spirit-
lost, and I went hurling through the air to
certain death, as seemed, and would have
been but for some growth out of trees below
me on that side the cliff, which, yielding and-

123
breaking, let me through to the ground, well
bruised and scratched ; and there I lay some
time, to gather my senses, thank God for my
escape, and wonder how much I durst tell my
love ; when Io 1 she, turning the path, stood
before me.
Putting a good face on, I said, " here is thy
plume, my own, and now for the letter, so
soon as pen is fashioned."
She did. look at me for but one moment,
ere she knew the danger I had been in.
" What has it cost thee," she said, trembling
and affrighted, as I drew her to me.
" If I, too, must have no secrets, then," said
I, " it did cost but a short flight in the air ;
for, taking one plume from out that bird at
the top of this cliff, it did so lightly bear me,
that, save some holes through these branches,
and a few in my apparel, that thou shalt mend
by my fireside, when thou art my wife (in a
scant week's time), I am, indeed, safe and
sound throughout."
Now did she first pale and clutch me to her
heart, and then so inveigh at that bird; that,
albeit, knowing her spirit (though always so
tender to me), I could not but marvel.
"Wicked bird!" said she, "who wouldst
have my own beloved's life, and I could gain
thee, I would tear thy black heart from out
thy white body, with these little hands of
mine." And, truth to tell, I think she would, for so
she e'en looked. Now, after more tenderness

124
to me, and after much assuring that I had no
hurt, did she bid me tell her more closely
about the whole befalling; and then we-both
did wonder, looking at that height, from which
I came (near an hundred feet), "that even the
branches had 'scaped me. So, with first a
prayer on her lips, which my heart did echo,
of thankfulness to God, for his only help, we
got us home.
Now, the chase over, for all and forever, I
thought the white heron had given me peace,
as I was ready to do for him. But more be
fell, for, my love, upon that very evening, or
about dusk, having fashioned a pen of the
plume, was but trying its point on her hand,
ere using it, when it did so scratch into her
flesh, though on light pressing, that the blood
broke forth, and in such quantity that, not
quickly able to staunch it, there seemed dan
ger that life itself might go with the blood.
Now did she again show that spirit of Avhich
I spake ; for, dipping her pen in the blood,
she wrote quickly, on the vellum — " Dearest,
to my heart's blood I love thee ; keep this
near thine." Then, placing in the locket, and
that next her heart, she laid down her pen ;
for, as she told me, she doubted something if
she should live, and more whether that bird
would not try some other art. It was well
she Avas quick, for no sooner had she safely
hid her locket (or mine), than the plume, as
if alive, did whirl from the table, and through
the open AAindoAv, as from a gust behind

125
(though no door open); and anon flew by that
great white heron, with a shriek as of delight
in having back his own.
Then did the blood staunch, also, and never
since have I seen that bird, but once ; for,
going now to the court, with my wife, my at
tendance being required there, I was absent
much from Bedfordshire, and am now but
late returned, to pass my last days at home.
Whether this bird be flesh or wraith, I know
not, nor surely whether he liveth ; but yester
night I saw him pass, or thought so, though
these old eyes of mine see not as quickly,
mayhap, as of yore (howbeit clearer still than
some who till fields, or traffic in goods). I fol
low him no more, and, giving him peace, only
Avish the same of him, and that he take not
from me my locket, which, since it left my
wife's heart, has ever been next to mine.
There foUOAving then some discussion, on
the finishing of this tale, as to whether it was
indeed a spirit, or only some remarkable mis-
chancing with a wily old heron, Mrs. Vaughan
was called in, as to her father's final belief on
it. She said her father never missed any
other quarry to compare with that, and that
his last conclusion was that the heron, first
mortal, his cursing of it made a spirit ending,
to punish his folly.
To this there was some agreement, and
some dissent ; and so we went our ways.
Sep. 25, Saturday. A good year for garden,
orchard, and crops (now mostly gathered).

126
Dec. 81, Friday. My brother, Daniel Gould,
returned to us at the end of this year, from a
voyage to Maryland, where he hath laboured
as a minister for the Quakers, or Friends, as
they will call them. He purposeth other trav
els to thus Avitness his belief.
The year endeth Avith all of my family in
good health ; for which, God be praised.
1670. Feb. 23, Wednesday. Mr. Wickenden,
of Providence, died, sometime minister there
for the Baptists. His name dieth, also, hav
ing left no sons, though daughters, married,
that have children.
Mr. Knowles, of Warwick, died last month.
Apr. 28, Thursday. Mr. Freeborn, of Ports
mouth, died, leaving one son to bear his name.
Aug. 1, Monday. There is much dispute
lately, on the rights of Ehode Island as
against Connecticut, at Wickford ; constables
of both colonies calling juries to serve, Avith
imprisonment of their's (Mr. Eldred), by us.
It is like to be finally settled as our land
throughout Narragansett.
Dec. 31. The year goeth out on a Satur
day. Mercies continue to me, more than I
deserve ; my Avife, a stay always, my children,
a comfort to us both ; my hope and trust in
Heaven, which seemeth nearer than once it
did.
1671. Mar. 2. Mr. Easton taketh a third wife,
Ann Clayton, by name. His eldest son was
married near thirty years since.

127
May 25, Thursday. Mr. Borden died at
Portsmouth, where I shall go to his funeral, if
I be well enough, having had some rheum in
my legs ; whereof, though better, I am still
stiffened in my joints. When last I called on
him, he showed me a silver bowl of good
workmanship, that he valued at £3 or more ;
setting also much store by it from some re
membrance of friends and good cheer Avith it.
May 30. ' Tis hard for me to give up my
boat cruising, tho' aging now for such sport.
To-day I sailed around Brenton's Eeef, and
eastward till I was close upon Cormorant
Eock, ere I turned me home again.
June 1, Thursday. Making another short
cruise in my boat, to-day, I came upon a
handsome seal, so close that I quickly shot
him ; having my gun with me by good for
tune. His eyes looked at me so softly sad,
ere he died, as did seem to reproach me for
my act ; and I did near repent it. I think it
is from this human look (and able to climb
rocks as well as swim) that the many stories
of mermaids and mermen have come. I do
remember when at the eastward, years since,
the hearing a tale of a merman who put his
hand upon the boat's side and looked in ; but
believe now it was but a seal, indeed. They
here are but occasional visitors, as sea-turtles,
also. June 10. Mr. Easton and Mr. Bull called
upon me, hoping to hear some late news of
my brother Gould, now on a second voyage

128
to Maryland, in his ministry for the Quakers.
I could not give them much, as yet, and then
we fell to talking of the great growth of their
religion here, they having it much at heart,
and both believe still greater following is to
come, with an assurance in their minds that
theirs is the only path.
So are we all like to feel as to paths we fol
low ; but if we go rightly, as we are led, Avith-
out hindrance to others in their paths, I can
not but think that, whether they be straighter
or more devious, they may yet aU come to
gether at last, and, so, to God. He continu
eth always our good shepherd, but his sheep
stray much ere they obey his voice.
The going forth of my wife's brother upon
his travels hath set me towards doing some
what, also, in journeying ; though not upon a
like religious visit. My old friend, Mr. Wil
lett, whom I met many years since in one of
his ventures for trade on the Kennebec, hath,
since his retirement from New York, estab
lished a home at Swanzey, as now called, and
there do I soon visit him, if my present health
and disposition hold.
June 15, Thursday. Set off for Mr. Wil
lett's to-day, upon my horse, as far as the
north shore of Portsmouth, which reaching
by noon, after pledging in Mr. Baulstone's
claret, and leaving my horse to be returned,
went on in a shallop, which, unlading at Mr.
Willett's, will, in a few days, return me to
Newport.

129

Arrived this evening at Mr. Willett's, and
was made most welcome by himself and
youngest daughter, who keepeth his house,
his wife having died these two years since.
We had at our supper some exceeding fine
oysters, both roasted in the shell, and stewed
out of it, they abounding here in a mixture
of fresh and salt water, which they require.
After supper we had much discourse, such as
old men like, he calling himself aged, though
I his elder by near a score of years. He hath
had employment in weighty affairs of State,
and wide venturing in trade on his own be
half, having had valuable leases to trade upon
the Kennebec, by which he hath advantaged
so that his estate is ample and sufficient for
his later years. We talked of his early days
at Leyden, in Holland, where he learned his
Dutch, so valued later at Manhattan.
June 17. Mr. Willett setteth forth his table
with more silver than I have mostly seen, in
these parts, having, as he telleth me, over
fourteen pounds in weight thereof. There is
a large wrought fruit dish, tankard, wine bowl,
mustard pot, porringer, spoons, snuffers, to
bacco box, &c.
He hath also shown me his books, by
which he setteth much store ; more especially,
" Smith's Voyages," " Pilgrimage in Holland,"
"Holy War," "Heber's Episcopal Policy,"
"Calvin's Harmony," and, for use upon oc
casion, " General Practice of Physick," being
not near to any other physician.
g

130

He hath cattle, sheep, and horses in plenty,
and large amount of land here, at Eehoboth,
and at Narragansett, Avith dwelling-houses,
warehouse, and vessels for the sea, in one of
which I came, and shall soon return.
He hath much interest in the church at
Plymouth, Eehoboth, and Swanzey, and lik
eth the minister here, Mr. Myles, who, calling
while I was there, we advantaged by his talk.
Mr. James Brown also called ; brother-in-law
to Mr. Willett, and son of Mr. John Brown,
late deceased, of Eehoboth, a leading man
there. Mr. Willett hath shown me the graves of
his wife Mary, and her parents, at the head
of the cove near his house, where also he
shall lie, he saith.
June 18, Sunday. Went to hear Mr. Myles
preach, in the Baptist way. A good sermon,
well set forth. He had a church in Wales,
before settling here.
June 19. Eeturned to Newport safely, there
finding all well. I am getting, now, into years
for voyagings, and must soon abate them, for
I have had my share, long since.
Nov. 10. I should have noted, some months
since, the marriage of Mr. John Clarke, to the
widow Fletcher. His second marriage, but
nought to do Avith the Strange Visitor's proph
ecy, as at the Seven Club recently related.
Dec. 23. Some now leave the regular Bap
tist way for Seventh Day observances, and
are to-day (Saturday) gathering themselves

131
into a church. Of these are Mr. Hiscox (who
Avill be their minister), Mr. Hubbard, Mr.
Mumford, &c. Thus making the third Bap
tist church here.
Mr. Jenckes hath now gone to the Paw-
tucket Falls, there to establish his forge and
saw-mill, which he was for doing at Pawtuxet
two years since, but is now departed there
from. He is a skillful worker in iron, as his
father was, before him, at Lynn, in Massa
chusetts. Mr. Thomas Hart died this year, here. He
leaveth a vridow (daughter of Mr. Williams)
and children. At Portsmouth, Mr. Smiton
died.
1672. Feb. 17, Saturday. Did hear a sermon
of Mr. Hiscox, the minister for that new
Seventh Day Church, which hath of late sep
arated from the other Baptists, after hot dis
cussing upon both sides. The new church
groweth to some degree, as ever new things
do take hold on some, and no doubt it may
be a conviction to many. There be now three
Baptist churches here, and a very large meet
ing of Quakers, drawn from those once Bap
tists. Aug. 9, Friday. Mr. Williams hath rowed
all the way from Providence, to hold a disputa
tion Avith the Quakers here, which commenc
eth to-day (he having arrived, in his boat,
about midnight, yesterday). On this same
day a remarkable happening of the sun, being

182

o'ercast with blackness ; called, by some, an
eclipse. Aug. 29. Mr. Stanton, of this town, died,
being of a Thursday.
This year Mr. Clarke was again chosen our
Agent to England, where his watchfulness for
us hath been already seen in twelve years of
faithful work. He now goeth to manage our
appeal, to His Majesty, against " the violent
and illegal intrusions of Connecticut," as we
have set forth. Truly it seemeth that our
little colony is tightly hemmed about, Avith
the claims of Connecticut on one border, and
Massachusetts upon the other. Yet shall we
live, methinks, an happy example to the world,
for time to come, of a State flourishing in
peace and plenty, Avithout troubling any man's
conscience. We have Mr. Easton for our Gov
ernor, this year, and are like to have other
Quakers govern us much for the future, they
growing very strong here.
Some negroes are brought now in sloops
from Barbadoes, which island hath them from
Africa, and are used here as slaves. I hke
not the trade, nor some venturing from here
by a few that cometh too near piracy. I hope
it groweth not in time to come.
We have some distilling of rum here, now,
from our Barbadoes molasses.
Unless some signs fail, my daughter Sarah
hath lost her heart ; for I do perceive, of late,
a new kind of both pride and humility in her
(a seeming paradox, and yet explainable).

133
The pride is of that nobler sort, which first
wakens in a maid when her heart (rightly
touched) teaches her what wealth it has to
give another. The humility comes of some
new-born fears lest faults and weaknesses
(now clearer seen than afore) may, unless
cured, wear into the soul of a good man, in
the space of life's travel together.
There has a gentleness come over her, also,
that sets vastly well. Her brother and sis
ters do scarce understand how she, who did
at times task them so sharply on their duties,
and did stand so for her own rights, can have
become so seeming tame.
Her mother and I read her more clearly;
and, as she turns to us Avith this new gentle
ness in her eyes, know, as well as if she had
made speech of it, that now (as life broadens
and deepens) a new understanding of our
love and care for her has come ; and that she
sees how our correctings, even (tiresome or
needless seeming), were in love, to cure a
fault, or a weakness that should grow to one.
Her look seems to say that she would e'en
tarry with us awhile (if she could, but for this
other love !) , to be a new comfort ; understand
ing life, and us, in a better way than once she
did. How doth this love transform all things!
what a new world hath now opened to her !
Never was sky so bright, air so sweet, or earth
so beautiful,, in field, wood, stream, dell, and
dale. Life seems only fairly begun to this

134
maid of ours ; yet, would she give up all for
the heart that is hers. Indeed, so would he
for her (as proved lately in some peril to
gether at the cliffs) ; but I trust they shall
have many years together, of hearty loving
and right living. I know him to be a steady,
truthful youth, which is good to commence
upon, as having a sureness of foundation.
1673. Jul. 14, Monday. Went with Mr. Bar
ker across the water to Sekonit, he thinking
to purchase soon some lands there, from
Awansuck, the squaw sachem.
Here found we Mr. Benjamin Church, in
some negotiation Avith her as to his planting
and building, which he desireth sometime to
do, there being, as yet, no English there.
Mr. Church hath much knowledge of the
Indians, and their manner of warring; and
fears trouble may yet come from King Philip
(as called by the Enghsh), who groweth rest
less and uneasy on some esteemed provok-
ings. I hope I may see no more of Indian war, in
this, my old age ; though, if it e'en must come,
I have some strength left to engage in it.
But no Avar is more cruel and bloody than
an Indian war (albeit any is cruel, and most
are needless), and I trust none is to come in
either my day or my children's.
Oct. 26, Sunday. Mr. Waterman, of Provi
dence, died. In early years a great hunter
Avhile at the Bay, Avhich, leaving on some per-

135
secutions, he was a valued man at WarAvick
and Providence.
Jeremy Osborne, schoolmaster here, died
this year.
Thomas Cornell has suffered death for the
murder of his mother, in Portsmouth, as
claimed ; though by some doubted on ac
count of testimony not relevant, as of an ap
parition that John Briggs saw in a dream and
spoke with. The widow hath named a child
(born since, as I suppose). Innocent; which,
perchance, is her belief of her husband. He
did request that his body be buried by his
mother, which was refused.
This year was my daughter Sarah and Mr.
Barker's eldest son (James, also) married;
much to their own satisfaction and their pa
rents'. While it hath grieved me to lose an
other daughter from my hearthstone, yet I am
glad she hath given her heart to so worthy a
man. There hath been great preparing for this
wedding at my house, until I thought it had
been turned inside out; and my poor wife
well tired at last, Avith the cleaning and fur
bishing, the clothes to be made ready, and
my daughter's portion of linen and woolen
(all of her own and her mother's spinning),
and the dinner that must be after the wed
ding. There was present at the dinner, be
sides mine own household, my daughter Mary
and her husband, Mr. Greene ; Mr. Barker and
his wife Mistress Barbara, with their children

136
that could come (viz.: the eldest, Elizabeth,
and her husband, Mr. Easton ; Mary and her
husband, Mr. Smith ; Christiana and William
Barker). Of the Goulds, there was my wife's
brother Daniel, and his Avife Wait, who, being
Quakers, had much sorrow that the marriage
was not in their way. Mistress Vaughan, the
grandmother of the bridegroom, came, also,
A\ith her husband. She giveth but one pres
ent at the marriage of each grandchild, al
ways a silver cup, to be for the first born
great-grandchild. She hath had inscribed
on one side of this, the Latham arms, and
desiring mine own on the other, as noAv joined
in this marriage, it hath been done. Both
families have long borne arms, regularly come
by in ancient times, though some others do
noAv claim arms on shght ground, if report
be true, having no warrant therefor.
Mrs. Vaughan hath told us something of
her girlhood days, when she went Avith her
father a-hawking, he attending the king. She
hath showed me a book of her uncle, Symon
Latham, on hawking ; very curious, Avith an
acrostic ; which latter minds me to make one,
on some occasion. Mrs. Vaughan's sons, Mr.
Dungan, and Mr. Clarke, sent tokens, as did
her daughters, Mrs. Holden, and Mrs. Crans
ton. So we sat a score and one at table, which
was as bravely set forth with viands as we
could well make.
For fish, there was as handsome a salmon
as ever I saw (and I know all fish well, from

137
my early engaging in their taking, and cur
ing), and that blue fish, of which I have be
fore spoke, as so delectable a kind, when
freshly caught.
Of fowl we had both turkeys and geese, spe
cially fatted on good grain ; and for meat a
pasty, made from as good a haunch of veni
son as I could procure by some days' notice
to the Indian, who hunted the deer for me.
After these, with their garnishings, there was
a kind of New England pie, made from those
pumpkins that the Indians do grow among
their corn, baked, after mixing it (boiled and
mashed) with milk and eggs. We had, alsO)
as remembrance of Old England, a goodly
plum pudding, rightly set forth with brandy.
>Some of our OAvn brewed beer, cider, and
claret had of Mr. Baulstone, did furnish us
good drink enough, and I heard not that any
went away unsatisfied.
Mr. Barker hath done what he could, and I
something more than he (as more able), to
supply a furnishing for the house that his
son doth hire at present, he meaning finally
that his own house shall be for his son, as
eldest born. I hope so happy a beginning
may make as good an ending, after many
years together of peaceful liviiig, hopefuUy
content, doing what seemeth best day by
•day, as they more and more SAnftly pass.
Dec. 25, Thursday. Christmas again ; that
-always bringeth to my mind the old days in
Jllerrie England, even to the time of good

188
Queen Bess, for I was a lad of more than ten
years when she did die. I see (as clear now
as then) my grave father and gentle mother,
passing a look of love to one another, and
then turning toward their children, to for
ward our happiness, with some little tokens
for Christmastide. We were a large family
at that time, for, all at home, we numbered
eleven ; more than mine own at any time, now
still further lessened by marriage and going
forth of two of my daughters. We take din
ner to-day at my brother Gould's, though he
calleth it not anything special to the day, as
not believing in the keeping of any days or
seasons. Dec. 81. My accustomed casting up of ac
counts, and counting of mercies to me and
mine during the year.
1674. Aug. 4, Tuesday. Mr. Willett died. I
thought not he, whom I so lately talked with,
would have gone before me, his elder.
Dec. 1. Another death (the first one of
our Seven Club to be called). Mr. Brenton, a
few years since our Governor, hath, indeed,
lately gone to his home above ; which may
serve as a warning, that those of us who yet-
linger must preioare for that other mansion
not made Avith hands.
Mr. Brenton was a man of large affairs,.
both in a public way, and his own, having a
very good estate for these parts ; some by his
OAvn labour procured, and some, I think,.

189

brought with him from Hammersmith. His
homes tall, here, beareth that same name ; but,
besides this, he hath lands and houses (some
in tenants' hands) at Conanicut, Narragan
sett, Taunton, Mattapoisett, Merrimack Elv
er (10,000 acres there), Avith rights at Gay
Head, and Elizabeth Islands, &c.; debts due
from Barbadoes ; negroes ; great store of
horses (some 70 of horsekind), cattle, and
sheep, besides an interest in some vessels.
He drew up his own inventory (over £10,-
000), and attached it to his will, to prevent
differences. I rejoice that he maketh a lega
cy to Mr. Eoger Williams, of Providence, of
12 ewes and a wether ; which will be the more
welcome, as Mr. Williams, having impover
ished his estate for others, now needeth him
self, or is like to, soon.
The funeral was the largest I have seen, he
having great acquaintance, and held in the
esteem of many.
Dec. 2, Wednesday. Mr. Thomas Clarke
died here. He leaves his estate to the chil
dren of his brother Joseph.
Another death this year hath been Mr.
Tew's, while on a Arisit to England.
Dec. 8. Dr. Cranston, my good physician
and friend, admonisheth me that, Avith my
years upon me, and some special weaknesses,
I may not see the year out ; though noAV
draAdng to its close.
I have, therefore, put my house in order
for the great change, and in my will (this day

140
made), have provided, as my estate Avill allow,
for my dear wife and children.
M.y eldest daughter, Mary, hath been some
time Avife to John Greene, and I have made
her executrix ; giving her some London estate
received by me from my mother's Avill. Sarah
hath lately married James Barker, Jr., and I
believe there is a leaning in Susannah toward
one Edward Thurston, Jr., and of Priscilla to
Thomas Coddington (son of our now Gover
nor, by his third Avife, who is a sister of Mr.
Brinley). I think they be all hopeful young
men. To my son Thomas I have given houses
and tenements, &c., owned by me in England
(all save what I give to my daughter, Mary
Greene), and I hope he may see that old
home, whether he remaineth in England or
not. ¦And this hath set my mind strongly, to
night, toAvard those places wherein my youth
was spent ; especially to Chiddingly. I see
again the house, the fields, the garden, aU as
of yore ; Avith the church that I attended,
and the people who sat therein. Aye, and
those ancient rooks, in solemn flight to and
fro. ' Tis an old man's fanciful way thus to
turn to his childhood in his later days, they
say, but it is, indeed, pleasant so to dwell ;
and brings some comfort, as well as sadness,
with the remembrance.
The sun is close to setting, now. Things
that had seemed of grave import (matters to

141

be straightened, errors in others to be shaken)
prevail not Avith me as I near the gate ; but
that which seemeth the best is peace; aye,
peace for all men, instead of petty strife. Live
by the golden rule, and peace shall then, in
deed, come to us all.
My hand graspeth this pen but feebly, yet
it may still hold my wife's awhile ; that dear
hand that hath always had a leading toward
God.
1675. Jan. 1, Friday. I thought not to see
this year open. Already my gazing has in it
a dimness ; but hope is within, love beside
me, and beyond; so all is well, and peace
cometh.

KOTES BY THE EDITOR.

1. Mr. Jefferay died Jan. 2, 1675 ; and it may
be of interest, to some readers of his journal, to
know how soon the other members of the Seven
Club followed him and Mr. Brenton. The next
death was that of Mr. Clarke, April 20, 1676 ;
then Mr. Vaughan, in the summer of 1677 ; Mr.
Arnold, June 19, 1678 ; Mr. Coddington, Nov.
1, 1678 ; and, last of all, Mr. Brinley, in the au
tumn of 1719 ; he being much younger than the
other members of the club (some forty years
the junior of Mr. Jefferay).
2. The epitaph to Mr. Jefferay, from his grave
stone in Newport cemetery, has been already
given in the preface to this work. There are
other interesting memorials in this old enclos
ure, notably the one to the falconer Latham's
daughter, "Frances Vaughan, Alius Clarke,"
1677, so often mentioned by Mr. Jefferay. Also
one to " John Cranston, Esq., Gov'r," 1680 (the
" good physician and friend " of the journalist),
Avho married a daughter of Mrs. Vaughan, by
one of her earlier husbands.
8. Mr. Jefferay's descendants are very numer
ous, to-day, through his daughters, Mary Greene,
Susanna Thurston, and Sarah Barker. His
daughter Priscilla Coddington, had two chil-

143
dren, but they died young. As to his son,
Thomas Jefferay, it is believed that he Assent to
England, where he had interests acquired un
der the wills of his father, uncle, and grand
father, as the reader will have observed. His
name is not found upon Newport records, nor
any evidence of his residence there ; though he
was an adult (or nearly so), presumably, at his
father's death.
4. Should any reader chance to make pilgrim
age so far as Chiddingly, let him visit the old
church Avith its Jefferay effigies and epitaphs.
Go, also, to The Peaks ; for, though the original
house is now gone (save, perhaps, the kitchen
part of the farm-house now there), yet still re
maining are the green fields, and the dusky
rooks, descendants of those that cawed their
mournful farewell to Jefferay, ere he left his
native land. Visit, also, Lewes, for its castle
and battleground ; and go to Beachy Head, and
Battle Abbey, as Jefferay did. If at London,
one may still find Watling street ; but will look
in vain for the sign of the Golden Key, mod
ern buildings now occupying the site. Over at
Southwark, the old inns, mentioned by Jefferay,
have long since gone (the Tabard, Fleur de Lys,
and Cordelyon); but the church of St. Saviour's
still remains, and is well worth a visit. At Cam
bridge, visit Caius college, Arith its Gate of
Honour, as of old ; and see King's chapel.

A DEEAM OE TRUE VALUES;

OR,

THE JUST BALANCES.

10

A DREAM OF TKUE VAXUES;

THE JUST BAIiAKCES.

This dream I had in the first year of my com
ing to live at Newport, and, though I did write
it down (on some persuasion of my Avife), yet
put it not in nay Journal, as being, perchance,
too fanciful for sober relation. Howbeit, there
was so much of seeming real in it that it did
move me strangely, and may seem of enough
note (to others) to place at the last, should all
be printed.
The first thing that I did see, in this dream,
was an assembly, of some dozen men or so, en
gaged in talk, parts of which I could not but
hear, they passing and repassing as though I
were not.
I soon perceived that they were of many call
ings, as merchant, goldsmith, yeoman, cord-
wainer, smith, mariner, soldier, scholar, lawyer,
physician, bishop, lord ; and one other, the busi
est of all, yet what about I could not tell.
Though all talking so earnestly together, they
would, ever and anon, glance toward a little ris
ing ground, or mound, whereon was set a silken
tent, or canopy, Avith something brightly gleam-

148
ing therein. Approaching it, I then saw that
this brightness proceeded from a pair of bal
ances, of golden metal made, and so great that
the largest man might step thereon to try his
weight. A most beautiful being in white (seeming like
an angel) stood by these scales, having a girdle
hung about with medals, of gold, silver, and
brass. It suddenly came to me (as often in
dreams our dull Avits are helped) that here was
to be a weighing of men at true value, with
medals of three qualities then given. Man's
view of his own worth, or of others', counted
not, nor did his calling, place, or religion. When
once he stepped on these balances he had no
power to leave till weighed, and he must wear
his medal a year, until another weighing, which
was for those failing now to gain the best, or
golden ones.
The time not being quite come for the weigh
ing, gave the more space for talk, which was so
well used that I had some trouble to learn
what it was about, though no scruple to listen,
for all was loudly said, with no concealment.
Presently, as if for my better help (though
none observed me), they would stop, by twos,
ere passing me, and in these short pauses I
got some meaning of their discourse. Indeed,
they did talk right well, so that I was near con
vinced oft Avhen one had finished, only to be
shaken when the other replied ; and it did seem
as if even those Just Balances might be de
ceived, if that were possible.

149
First paused before me the goldsmith and
merchant, well fed, well dressed, and solid ap
pearing men, of sober mien, their callings not
so different, yet their views far asunder, as it
soon seemed. The merchant much vaunted his
own calling, as the most necessary in the world,
exchange and barter requiring also the bright
est wit; and had little good to say of other
paths, for lawyers were thieves, doctors doubly
leeches, and so on. But his special content was
that he had made himself, and gained such
store of goods and wealth. He Avished (or said
so) that other men might profit by his rules.
Being asked as to these, by the goldsmith, he
said, he always ope'd his shop right early and
kept it so till late ; took no holidays (nor gave
his helpers any he could avoid) ; and when his
shop was closed, spent most of his time, when
not sleeping or eating, in caring well for what
he had saved in trade. He had gained several
good freeholds, by use of ready money, with
those forced by their own improvidence to sell.
His tenants must pay upon the hour or leave,
and honest poverty he believed not in. Toil
and thrift was his motto, and this was the result ;
at which he braced himself so sharply back,
that I feared he would have gone over, and
awaited the goldsmith's praise ; for the latter
was a man still richer, and one who, besides
making good rings and chains, had loans out
to many merchants, Avith houses and lands in
abundance. "Verily," said the goldsmith, " thou hast thy

150
head so filled Arith thine own importance, that
I doubt much the wisdom of replying to such
folly as thou hast uttered, the best of it being
but half truth, the most dangerous kind for
lodgment. Indeed, thou hast but half lived as
yet. Yonder cobbler has more Avisdom, and
real wealth, than thou, in spite of thy cash-box,
goods, and houses."
I thought the merchant would have choked,
so purple did his face shoAv, at this dispraise,
where he had thought for commendation. But
the goldsmith went on : "Every calling is hon
ourable, if a man make it so, Avhether he be mer
chant, lawyer, doctor, labourer, or whatsoever;
and thou doest ill in vaunting thine own at a
neighbour's expense. As to thy special success,
it is a word to be carefully used, and thy kind
is pitiful enough ; for thou hast starved all but
thy body, and attained naught by it but dross.
What thou hast thou knowest not how to use.
Turn about, man, and see and hear things that
have been dead to thee in thy blind and heed
less following of wealth alone. Practice still
thy industry and frugahty, but rise not on the
fall of others, nor on their want of thrift. Teach
them the lesson of it, if, haply, they were born
deficient, or grown careless; and see if some
tenant deserve not a little waiting for, or even
helping. One who is now mine, but was thy
tenant, till turned out, for missing a payment
(though beforetimes prompt), had sickness and
death in his household, Avith their expense to
meet, of which thou caredst not to know. Ply

151
well thy calling, but when the key is turned
think of other things ; a walk in the fields or
woods, with child or friend ; a better acquaint
ance with thy family at home, and Avith books
and paintings. Take more holidays, and give
more, too ; learn to live rightly, for thou hast
been like a man alone, and half starved; not
knowing thy hunger, being so wrapped about
in thoughts of but one thing."
I had but time to see the merchant's amaze
ment at being twice called a starveling, when,
these two passing, there came close upon me
the smith and cordwainer, in serious speech.
The smith had, it seemed, grown into much dis
content Avith his lot, as not equal with most
others (though he as deserving) ; and many at
the ale-house, which he too much visited, did
give him sympathy, pledging at his expense.
This bitterness of lots, growing in his mind,
had made him some neglect his work of late.
The cordwainer had different views of life,
and lots therein ; " For," said he, " it is, I be
lieve, mostly idle talk which one hears, of ' dif
ferent conditions,' ' unhappy lots,' &c. If some
are born to more good things than we, or, if
others do gain more and faster, why fret at
what is no fault of ours, nor special business,
either. If the gain was unjustly made, we
surely should not envy ; and, if justly, we may
try whether our special kind of wit may gain
like good things, repining not if we fail. For all
good things are not of money, place, or power.
Others remain. My lord, over there, whose

152
tenant I am, is a just man, and no oppressor of
any. If he did oppress me, having a good trade
(and loving independence as much as any), I
should bide my time to take it elsewhere. Now,
sometimes when he cometh to order his boots,
or on other occasion, we have much pleasant
talk together ; and what thinkest thou about ?
Not his troubles or mine (though I warrant
thee he has sore ones, as have all), but he telleth
me of a stream for good fishing, which I can
try of a holiday, or Sunday, after church ; and
then, perhaps, questions me of the last coin I
have got, or tells of one that he has gained.
He and I are both great fishermen, and collectors
of coins, besides having other things in common.
My calling, for thirty years plied, has brought
many odd coins to me, which, besides the pleas
ure of gathering and exchanging, may yield a
pretty profit, yet ; for they are becoming more
than I can afford to keep. Nor am I discon
tented that we must finally part (though some
thing loth), for they will be seen otherwheres,
of many, when gone from me.
So, from each of my customers (and the many
others who like to drop in upon a cobbler, to
rest themselves with the music of his hammer),
I am ever gaining some knowledge of men, of
books, and of nature. My work goes on, Avith
something added each year for time of sickness
or old age, and I live as happy a life as most,
I do believe ; not without troubles, but escaping
some that others have. I might well use some

153
richer fortune, it is true, in ways that my talks
and readings have shown me would be pleasant;
but why repine when I have so much, and to
what good, even, if I had not ?
So, neighbour smith, go to the ale-house less
•oft ; fret less for others' (seeming) good fortune ;
rejoice in the strength of thy good right arm,
and thy sldU at the forge, yielding thee well of
.all except content ; which, indeed, ought to fol
low so good a trade as thou hast."
But, anon, (they passing) there was come be
fore me the soldier and mariner, and nearly at
blows, so hot was their speech to one aoother.
The soldier did hold his profession (wherein
he was an officer) to be the only one worthy a
man of spirit, who would gain thereby much
¦distinction. The cause mattered not, might
was right ; and glory for self and country was
the end to be sought. He related how he had
fought on many fields, and showed the marks
¦on his sword-hilt of the numbers killed in his
wars of conquest.
The mariner (a ship's captain) held that wars,
in the main, were as useless as cruel ; and only
to be waged in defence from invasion (as his
own crew with pirates), and a few other just
causes ; but conquest he called a cowardly wag
ing. He cited a peaceful country, ruthlessly
plundered; at which the soldier said he had
been one of the invaders, yet none dared call
him a coward. " Aye," said the mariner, " I do,
.and a disgrace to the name of soldier, for thy
boast of such conquest ! "

154
At these words, out came the soldier's sword
as quick as a flash to thrust through the speak
er; but, quicker yet, was the blow from the
mariner that followed the first drawing, and a
grasp on the throat did now nearly shut off the
soldier's breath. Wrenching away the sword
and breaking it in twain, " I give thee thy hfe"
(said the mariner), "hitherto so useless. Be
henceforth a soldier, indeed, and mock not a
noble calling."
While I was still some moved by the quick
fierceness of this encounter, they had passed
on; and there came before me the physician
and lawyer, talking of old college days at Ox
ford ; their youthful dreams, and how realized.
It seems they had planned, as young men,
the one to become great in the laAv, Arith prefer
ment foUoAving, and such well-earned renown
of his fellows as could not but give great con
tent. The other's hope had been that he might
(while using well the profession of physick, for
other's relief and his own subsistence), fall upon
some special sedative to pain, whereby a man
should ' scape suffering for the space when an
arm or leg might, of necessity, be lopped.
This discovery he believed he had almost
come upon, and the thought did much pleasure
him. The lawyer was something vexed that his
friend did not try a wider field than the small
town Avhere he lived, for in London, by use of
nice, discretion, and a little bending to great
men's fancies and Avhims, he would reap both
reward and renown.

155
The doctor smiled, but said only, "It was
ever hard for me to bend in that way, and I fear
the success thou speakest of would cost me
more than I care to pay ; besides crowding
from my mind this pain sedative I hope to find.
Eenown, my friend, is indeed sweet ; and what
I would have of it is that it might be said of
me living (or haply after death), ' his discovery
hath saved pain to thousands, and oft stayed
the hand of death.' But let not our talk rest
on me farther, for I see thou art far yet from
sweet content ; yet hast thou honourably won
fortune in thy profession, and of late years
hast, by thy pleasing powers in great speeches,
and nice management with men, gained high
place in the state. Once or twice, however, I
have noted, in this later climbing, thou hast
swallowed some convictions harder than my
worst pills, and made such doubles and turns
as we should count spasms in our profession.
Was the special success, when won, always
worth this hard swallowing of conviction ? Is
not thy want of content the best answer ? I
would warn thee, therefore, dream not that final
content shall come by another step upward, if
gained by such hard swallowing.
This is more preaching than I e'er did before
(for I practice, and mean not to preach), so take
my sermon as an exception, out of special friend
ship to thee. Now (in thine own law term) ' I
rest my case. ' "
Still others coming (as these went), I saw it
was the lord and yeoman, this last being tenant

156
of the former, tilling one of his largest farms.
Their discourse was very pleasant to hear, if
not so lively as some before. It was of crops,
and hoAv best to raise them ; of breeding cattle
and sheep ; with some talk, too, about books
that the lord had lent for the reading of the
yeoman and his family. It came to me then
that this tenant was better used than the mer
chant's ; and that all lords were not oppressors,
fops, or fools, as the smith had been told, and
was almost ready to believe.
Next came close to me the scholar and bish
op (both men of much learning), in close argu
ment as to the best use'that study might be put.
The bishop did hold, with some show of reason,
that the scholar ill-used the great learning (that
had become his as fruit of hard study), by clos
eting it and himself so much. It Avas like to
become a matter of mere gathering and hoard
ing knowledge, as a miser might his money,
none richer but himself. For study of books
that other men have made, if not used to get
nearer the men or things related of, served
poorly its purpose. " Leave thy books awhile,
and study man and nature more at first hand,
and beware a scholar's selfishness ; one of the
worst kinds. Then Avrite a book thyself, to warn
other scholars to be liberal with their stores."
The scholar did allow some danger in putting
mere learning above other means of educating,
but did now give the bishop some ideas of what
he deemed his own shortcomings. " Thou re-
liest too much on forms, symbols, gaudy vest-

157
ments, set prayers and seasons ; which, though
called helps, do oft become but bars and stum
bling-blocks to poor man, ever too credulous
and eager for strange and mystical things, pa
geantry, and show. The exercise of religion
should be most simple, never strange, but a
part of one's life, with that golden rule enough
for guidance of the poor sinner to his maker.
Leave off, then, thy church contentions, as to
precedence, manners, and best ways (unimpor
tant things), and teach thyself and others that
living a good life, if hard to do, is ever by a
plain path, which may run within or out church
doors." I perceived, by a rustling of the bishop's
gown, and a kind of swelling of himself in some
choler, that he would reply, when a third man
joined them ; that over-busy one, whose calling
I had not learned. He talked so fast that I
could hardly follow his discourse, at first, but
soon saw that he was one who would change
many things, well-rooted, but not all good;
though some of his changes seemed but for
changes' sake. He hurt some good causes by
his manners, which were oft rude and meddle
some, nor would he brook others differing from
what he saw (or thought he did) so clear. He
questioned too much the honesty of others, if
thus differing ; or, if honest, he had not much
charity for what he deemed their ignorance.
He would call civil men (to rich and poor
alike), either fawners for favors of the great, or
wheedlers to overreach the humble. He flouted

158
true humility, because some did ape it; and
called all priests wolves, because some had rav
ened. He had been many things in his day, some of
which he held to still, but others were now for
gotten. He would eat no animal food, being
tenderer of their killing than of the feelings of
some men ; and believing such meat did make
men savage (though I have seen gentler than
he appeared). He would have none drink good
ale and wine, because some had fallen into
drunkenness. I did like better his freedom for slaves, and
some other of his contentions, of which he had
so many I cannot remember all. I learned that
his business was mostly that of straightening
out the ways of other men, and that he did call
himself a reformer, many present forms ill-suit
ing him ; not that God had done poorly, but
men were rooted in evils of their own making.
He had great hope of laws to right some of
these, if he could arouse enough spirit in men
to get them passed (their indifference being his
greatest bar and hindrance).
But now a shout went up, as the signal
sounded that the weighing Avas to be had.
There was some scramble by a few for the first
place, but the bishop, being nearest to the bal
ances, did walk soberly and sedately, yet Avith
an air that the church should be first, until,
hearing just behind him the quickening steps
(now a run) of the smith and soldier, he, too,
hasted a little from his dignity, when, putting

159
out a foot too sharply, it caught and rent his
gown, and tripped him in the path of those
close following, so that bishop, smith, and sol
dier fell in a heap together ; at which I laughed
so, that I wonder it waked me not.
This stumbling and overthrow did bring the
merchant first to the scales, which he stepped
into with much satisfaction, and good assur
ance of the result. Now I perceived that the
weighing angel had placed a gold medal in one
of the balances, and the merchant stepped into
the other to weigh it down. To his much
amazement, it stirred not ; nor did he move the
silver medal, at which he would have stepped
out, but, having no power to do so, must remain
for trial of the brass medal ; which, just bal
ancing his weight, was placed about his neck.
His plight was so pitiable at this outcome,
where he had expected so much, that I should
have sorrowed somewhat, had I not observed
him wasting his time (and the worth of his les
son) in rubbing his medal to a brightness that
might deceive some to think it was gold.
Yet fast as he might brighten one side the
other would tarnish, and turn outward, so that
it brought to my mind the old saying, of trying
to keep the outside of the platter clean. Now
in quick foUoAdng came the rest, and closely I
watched, to see what medals they gained, not
believing some would have been so fitted, for
this is how they were given :
A gold one to the cordwainer, lord, goldsmith,
physician, mariner, and yeoman ; a silver one to

160
the bishop, lawyer, and scholar; and one of
brass to the soldier, smith, and merchant (as
before said). Bethinking me of the over-busy
man, I turned, to see him running, quite out of
breath, and knowing the time so scant (the hand
almost on the hour), I shouted as loudly as I
could, for him to hasten, Avith which, and the
vexation at seeing him just miss the weighing
(the signal sounding and the canopy and bal
ances disappearing), I did wake. My Avife, in
some alarm (for I had roused her with my great
shout), did ask who it was I would so hasten ?
" Faith," said I, " it was one who was righting
so much in others, that he was himself left, for
he arrived too late at the Aveighing ! " Then,
on telling her I had but dreamed, though it had
seemed most real, she bade me tell all to her,
lest in the morning it was forgot in parts, as
will oft happen. Thus am I now able to write
doAvn the dream, for my wife will have it that
this may be added at the end of my Journal,
by some Avho shall yet print both.
Having now come to the end of this telling
of the dream, my wife said she would much like
to know what medal that over-busy man would
have received, and asked if I had ever seen any
at all like unto him.
" Why, yes," quoth I, " a short space since I
did see one who would right many things for
thee and all poor women ; for it would seem ye
are in bonds of servitude and subjection to us
men, having few rights, indeed ; a state most
pitiful,"

161
. " And how may this want of rights, be right
ed ?" said she.
" There," saith I, " seemeth to be the trouble;
for he findeth so many content, in happy homes,
that it is difficult to rouse them for the others,
which discontented ones are too few to help him
much. 'Tis oAving to ignorance, bred of long
years' hard serving, that most should be so cold
in this, he says, but he hopes to enlighten them
with some good laws (if he may get them
passed), so that they may yet know their state."
" Indeed," said my Avife, " this must be a great
thing to know, and ponder on, and I fear me I
must leave many petty things (as baking and
breAving, thy mending and darning, and my lit
tle chickens just hatched out, so pretty and soft)
to look into these matters. Did this great man
say more ? "
" The worst of it, he said," answered I, " was
how future ages would pity you women of to
day, for this ignorant servitude and false con
tent." " It were a pity to cause that pity," said she,
" and I do believe it should be righted, if that
busy man of thy dream (or the one out of it)
may find the time for us. Yet in this righting
beg him not to make us women too much like
you men, for some of your unlikeness we like
right well, and some servitudes of yours to us
must still be held even if we are freed of ours
to you. But indeed I should not flout this busy
dreamer so much ; and tell me now what thou
deemest the worst wrong that he would right."

162
" Gaming," said I, " the hope of gain by chance,
without toil ; the getting of something for noth
ing ; of all things the hardest to rid from the
blood and out of men's weak heads. ' Tis most
confusing to the understanding, coming in so
many forms; not dice alone, but betting, the
offering of prizes by our merchants (tempting
the poor to buy, not for necessity, but the prize,)
— and countless other ways. Gaming at its worst
is most cruel, and always selfish (as Avilling to
gain on others' loss) ; and many will so miscall
honour as to pay a gaming debt, while letting
honest men starve for their pay."
" Indeed," said my wife, " if he can set that
right, his rudeness may be forgiven, and he
should have that best golden medal."
''Which of my dream men dost thou like
best?" then queried I.
" That doctor," said she, " whose aim was
most unselfish ; but tell me, could such a dead-
ener of pain ever be found ? for I have watched
by some poor souls in agony so great that my
heart did ache to see it."
" No doubt," I answered, "it may yet be, and
other great things ; the shortening of passages
by sea and land, going through the air, or sohd
mountains, and machines that shall do our toil
much quicker and cheaper than our hands."
" Those will be busy times," sighed she, "and
the thought, even, of the noise and bustle then,
doth somewhat bewilder me ; but I hope in all
this proud achievement man Avill not forget
aught of that greatest good which God gave

163
him (being part of Himself), His love. That
holds through all, and is so great it can not be
weighed on the dream balances, or any beside.
It hath, too, so many kinds or qualities (all
good) : foremost, God's love to man ; then that
kind called charity, that has too little use among
men ; and, again, that between man and woman
(as mine to thee, dear heart) ; and that of us
both to those who shall, haply, read these pages ;
for thou hast my leave to call them dear ! "
So (the dream, and talk of it, being done), I
do end this, vrishing thee, dear reader (whether
man or gentle woman), God speed to a better
weighing than the poor man got of whose mis
hap I told.

JEFFERAY'S ACROSTIC.

THE BEST THINGS.
"War— best which justice requireth. How rarely !
Independence — best which, holding its OAvn, helps all.
Iiove — best shoAvn to God, by love to his children.
Learning — best when used to enlighten others.
Industries — best without fetters of tithes, taxes or guilds.
Arts — best which follow nearest to nature.
Mercies — best oft counted, howe'er low health or purse.
Journeys — best for knowledge, or restoriag health.
Europe — best for history of mankind.
Fashion — best in matching grace with simplicity.
Fame — best found in unseltish deeds, and raising others.
Example — best that needeth no help of precept.
Religion — best that liveth by good deeds.
America — best for hopes of freedom.
Youth — best when kept ever so by cheerful faith.

IXDEX TO SUBJECTS.

Page.
Acrostic  136, 164
Adventurers' tales  10
Agent for Gorges  15
Amethyst  62
Angels  28
Apples  29, 37, 57, 61
Archery  -.  51
Armour  4, 5, 39
Arrest of Harris  46
Arrival in New England   15
Arrival in Newport  24
Ash  50, 51
Avocations  28
Banishment of Williams  16
Bank swallow  53
Baptists  23, 28, 34, 41, 44, 126, 130, 131
Baptist (First Church)  23
(Second Church)  44
(Third Church).  130
Baptists persecuted  :<¦  35
Barley  29
Bams  22, 53, 57
Bam swallow  53
Bass  30, 39
Basswood  52
Bats  96,98
Bears  29, 46
Beavers  28, 29, 87
Beds  30
Beech  29, 51

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167 Page.
Cheese  29
Cherrybird  54
Cherry rum  52
Chestnut  51
Chestnuts  29, 37
Chickens  39, 68, 69
Chimney burning  38
Chimney swallow  53
Chipping sparrow  54
Chogsets  40
Chowder  40
Christmas  35, 58, 68, 137
Christmas presents  36, 58
Cider.  37, 57, 68, 137
Clambake  33
Clam-broth  40
Clams  30, 33
Clarenceux  2
Claret  28, 35, 63, 76, 128, 137
Climate of NeAvport  25
Coal in Portsmouth  50
Coat of arms  3, 6, 37, 115, 136
Codfish  77
Coloured glass  6, 90
Coloured gorge  90
Coloured terraces  89
Commissioner  21, 65
Committee to make levy  78
Committee to write letter  36
Concordance  71
Coopers  .-.  28, 57
Coral  112
Cordwainers  28
Com  29, 33, 40, 41, 56
Coronation of Charles II  66
Courtship  18-21
¦Cows  38
Crabs  39

168 Page.
Crow  55
Crow-blackbird  55
Crowns  6
Crystal  62
Daughter bom  21
Daughter falls in love  132
Death of brother  70
Death of father  7
Death of mother  16
Deaths —
Arnold  142
Borden  127
Brenton  138
Brinley  142
BroAvn  34
Charles 1  23
Clarke  36, 139, 142
Coddington  142
Coggeshall  34
Cornell  135
Dyer  63
Easton  71
Evans  16
Field  72
Freeborn  126
Greene  60
Hart  131
Holliman  63
Hutchinson  22
James 1  15
Jefferay  7, 10, 16, 70, 142
Knowles  126
Latham  42
Mowry  72
Newman  71
Osborne  135
Potter  22

169 Page.
Deaths —
Power  45
Queen Elizabeth  6
Ehodes  72
Sanford  39
Shakespeare  11
Smith  69, 72
Smiton  131
Stanton  132
Tew  139
Vaughan  142
Waterman  134
Wickenden  126
Willett  138
Deer  29, 46, 137
Departure from England  14
Deputy  71
Diamond  62, 112
Dishes  30
Dog  38, 39, 69
Dogwood  47
Dream of True Values  147-163
Drive of game  46
Drams  64
Dutch  28, 59, 72, 86, 113, 129
Eagle  53, 54
Earthenware  30
Earthquake  18
Eclipse  132
Efllgies  9, 143
Elderberry wine  52
Elm  50, 52, 54
English ivy  47
Epitaphs  3, 9, 142, 143
Excursion (Eocks)  47-50
(Woods)  50-53
(Birds)  53-56

170 Page.
Execution of Cornell  185
Fairy  112
Fairy grottoes  90, 112
Faulcon  116
Faulconer  36, 42, 44, 116, 142
Fir  sa
Fires  22, 73
Fish  29, 30, 77, 89, 90-
Fish-hawk  53, 69
Fishing  15, 38, 39, 40, 77, 80-
Flagroot  52
Flag cut by Endicott  64
Flax  29
Flowers  40, 46, 88
Forge  131
Fowls  29, 46-
Foxes  29, 39, 46, 69'
Freemen (1655)  42
Frogs  96
Gale at sea  14
Gallows  64, 109
Game  29, 38
Gaol  18, 20
Garden  38, 40, 61, 125, 140'
Garnet  62
Geese  29, 36, 57, 68, 70, 137
Ghostly chopping  12, 13
Ghostly Eevel  103-107
Ghostly walking ,  3, 4, 5-
Glass mountain  90
Goats  29
Goblin Land  86-91
Gold  28, 109, 111, 113-
Golden robin  54
Golden Eule  75, 141
Gold flnch  55.

171 Page.
Grafting  57
Grant of land  65
Great Are  73
Great snow  17
Green peas  57
Grouse  29, 38
Gun  38, 63, 78, 127
Hanging of Mary Dyer  63
Harris controversy  46
Harvesting  57
Hawk  53, 69
Hawking  37, 116, 136
Hay  29, 57
Haystacks  57
Head Goblin  89, 91
Headless knitter  100
Hemlock  53
Hen-hawk  , , .53, 69
Herbs  40, 48, 52, 57, 99
Heron  55, 116
Hickory  29, 51
Hickory nuts  29, 37
Hog-killing   57
Honey  29
Hops  2
Horses  29, 38, 67, 128, 130, 139
Hose  99, 100
Hot springs  89, 90
House furnishings  30, 79
Houses  30, 79
Huckleberries  71
Huckleberry pie  71
Humming bird  56
iiunting  38, 69
Husking  57
Ice mountain  15

172 Page.
Indian dance  34
Indian ovens  76
Indians. . .17, 21, 30, 32, 33, 34, 39, 42, 43, 44, 48, 49, 51,
62, 76, 86, 90, 134, 137
Indian village  34
Indies  101
Inns  38
Inn-keepers  28
Johnny cake  33, 40
Joiners  28
Juniper  53
Ketch  75
Kingbird  54
Kuigfisher  53
Knight  103
Lanthom  95
Lark  56
Lazy-bird  54
Learning in Ehode Island  26
Legend of Indian maid  32
Life m NcAvport (1650)  27
Lime  62
Lime-kiln  62
Lmeages in Ehode Island  27
Lion  29
Lizard  98
Locket  121, 125
Locust  51
Lord Chief Baron of Exchequer  1
Mackerel  30
Maple  29, 50
Maple sugar  40
Marriage of daughter  135

173 Page.
Marriages —
Barker-Jefferay  135
Blackstone-Stephenson  62
Clarke-Fletcher  130
Clarke-Scott  75
Cranston-Clarke  59
Easton-Clayton  126
Gould-Baulstone  42
Gould-Coggeshall  35
Mason  28
Massachusetts oppressions —
Banishes Williams for denying its authority
in spiritual matters  16
Begs his aid in Pequot War, but refuses to re
call from banishment  17
Drives Coddington &c. to Aquidneck for fa
voring Mrs. Hutchinson's views  17
Attacks Gorton &c. at Warwick for holding
" blasphemous errors "  21
Whips Holmes for Baptist preaching  35
Whips Herodias Gardiner for Quaker preach
ing  59
Cuts ofE Holder's ear to cure his Quakerism. . 63
Hangs Mary Dyer as a final cure and warning 63
May Day  67
May-flower  46
May pole  15
Maze  11
Meadow lark  55
Meddlesome neighbours  74
Mermaids  14, 84, 127
Mermen  127
Miller  28, 61
Ministers ... .28, 33, 34, 35, 41, 45, 61, 62, 66, 68, 76, 78,
126, 130, 131
Mints  40
Mohawk  86
Molasses  132

174 Page.
Money  28
Mussels  39
Narragansetts  17, 86
Narragansetts restrained by Williams  17
Negroes  132, 139
Newport  24-31
Arrival ; situation ; climate ; life in 1650 ; re
ligion; riches; learning; lineages; avoca
tions; products; stock; fish; game; ber
ries; woods; houses; furnishings; books;
plate; Indians; surrounding country.
Nightingale  56
Nobles  28
Notes by the Editor  142
Nun  103
Nuttuig  37
Oak  29, 52, 99, 100
Oats  2, 29, 57
Orchard  29, 57, 125
Oriole  54
Otters  29
Owl  56, 99
Oysters  30, 129
Panther  29, 46
Partridge  56
Pastimes  38
Pawtuxet rejoins Providence  59
Peage  28, 34, 39, 86
Pearls  112
Pears  61
Pease  29, 57
Peat  78
Pequots  17
Pequot War  17
Phosphorus  83

175 Page.
Physician  28, 60, 69, 71, 76, 129, 139
Pigeon- woodpecker.  55
Pillion  43
Pine  53
Pinnace  60
Piracy  132
Plague  73
Plantain  47
Plays  11
Plum pudding  36, 137
Poison ivy  47
Poplar  52
Portcullises  6
Portrait  37
Poimd  28, 78
Printer  62
Prison  21, 28, 60, 64, 78
Products  29
Pudding-stone ,  48
Pumpkin  57, 137
Pumpkin pie  137
Puritans  7, 23
Quahaugs  30
Quails  29, 38, 56
Quaker meeting  ,.  66
Quaker persecution  45, 59, 63, 64
Quakers, 44, 45, 59, 60, 63, 64, 66, 67, 126, 128, 131, 132, 136
Quartz  49
Eaven  98
Eeasons for leaving England  10
Eed cedar  51
Eed oak  52
Eed Eose  4
Eed- winged blackbird  65
Eeligion in Ehode Island  26
Eiches in Ehode Island  26

176 Page.
Eings  16, 79, 81, 99, 103, 108
Eobm  54
Eock maple  50
Eock excursion  47-50
Eooks  5, 12, 14, 55, 140, 143
Eoses  6
Eum  52, 132
Eye  29
Sachems  17, 22, 30, 31, 44, 86, 1.34
Sack  24
Salmon  30, 136
Sand martin  53
Sassafras  52
Saw-mill  131
Scallops  30
Scarlet tanager  54
Schoolmaster  135
Sea clams  30, 40
Seals  127
Sea monster  43
Sea serpent  14, 80-86
Sea turtle  112, 127
Sea- weed  29, 33, 37
Secret Meeting  92-95
Sermons  33, 41, 61, 68, 78, 130, 131
Servants  33, 36, 38, 40, 49, 70
Settlement, 1636, Providence  17
1638, Aquidneck  17
1638, Narragansett  32
1643, Warwick  22
1657, Conanicut  46
1661, Westerly.  65
1661, Block Island  65
Seven Club tales —
Sea Serpent  80-86
Goblm Land  86-91
Secret Meeting  92-95

177 Page.
Seven Club tales —
Witch of Hammersmith  95-102
Ghostly Eevel  103-107
Wrecked (ialleon  107-115
White Heron of Bedfordshire  116-125
Seventh Day Church  130, 131
Shallop  32, 81, 87, 128
Shearing  57
Sheep  29, 57, 77, 130, 139
Shopkeepers  ¦  28
Silver  9, 30, 79, 104, 109, 127, 129, 136
Simples  48, 52, 57
Situation of NeAvport  25
Slaves  132
Slippery elm  50
Sloop  132
Slugs  99
Smith  28, 69
Snails  99
Snakes  71, 98
Soap-boiling  35
Son  48, 50, 51, 56, 58, 69, 140, 143
Song sparrow  54
Spanish Armada  38
Sparrow  54
Spinning. . . '.  29, 68, 135
Spouting springs  89, 90
Spruce  53
Squaw sachem  134
Stocks  28, 78
Strawberries  29, 40
Succotash  78
Swallow  53
Swan  117
Sweet com  33, 40, 57
Swine  29, 57
Sword-fish  77

178 Page.
Tables  30, 58
Tailoring  57
Tanager  54
Tapestry  3, 4
Thanksgiving  42
Thrush  55, 56
Toad  98
Tobacco  29, 34, 82, 108
Traders  28
Trading-house  32
Turkeys  .29, 68, 69, 70, 137
Usurpation of Coddington  27
Venison  29, 137
Venison party  33, 137
Visit to Wickford  32-34
" Study Hill  60-62
" Block Island  75-78
" Swanzey  128-130
" Sekonit  134
Volcano  110
Wall-buildtng  57
War of Eoses  4
Warwick men imprisoned  21
Warwick vindicated  23
Waterspout  14
Weaving  68
Wedding dinners  35, 135
Weeping elm  50
Whales  14
Wheat  2, 29
Whip-poor-will  56, 58
White ash  50, 51
White birch  51
White Heron of Bedfordshire  116-125
White maple  50

179 Page.
White oak  52
White Eose  ,  4
White wine  28
Wife.. 20, 21, 36, 37, 38, 40, 41, 43, 48, 49, 52, 56, 60, 62,
67, 68, 69, 71, 75, 78, 135, 141
Wild cats  29, 46
Wild cherry  52
Wild ducks  38
Wild geese  57
Wild grapes  51
Willow  50, 53
Wills of JefEerays  7, 8, 9, 16, 70, 140
Witch-hazel  47
Witch of Hammersmith  95-102
Wolves  29, 30, 46
Woodchuck  57
Wooden- ware  30
Wood-hauling  38, 42, 58
Woodpecker  55
Woods excursion  50-53
Wood thrush  56
Wool  29
Wrecked Galleon  107-115
Wren  54
Yellow birch  51
Yellow bird  55

IXDEX TO PEKSOXS.

Page.
Abbot of Battle  11
Acton  8
Amold, 26, 27, 28, 34, 41, 59, 60, 61, 65, 71, 72, 79, 80,
86, 91, 142
Awansuck  134
Baker.  9, 44
Barker  37, 48, 67, 68, 72, 134, 135, 136, 137, 140, 142
Batchelder  24
Baulstone  28, 35, 42, 63, 76, 128, 137
Beecher  71
Bingham  8
Blackstone  15, 27, 82, 33, 34, 59, 60, 61, 62, 72
Borden  127
Boyd  70
Bradford  23
Brenton  26, 79, 80, 95, 103, 107, 138, 142
Briggs  135
Brinley  46, SO, 102, 103, 107, 140, 142
Brown  8, 34, 130
Bull  18, 20, 44, 45, 127
Burslem  15
Caius  6, 7
Calverly  12
Canonicus  30, 31
Carpenter.  60, 61
Carr  '73
Charles 1  15, 23
Charles II  66, 71
Chaucer  H

181 Page.
Church  134
Clarke, 27, 28, 33, 35, 36, 37, 44, 59, 71, 75, 79, 80, 107,
130, 132, 136, 139, 142
Clayton  126
Coddmgton, 17, 22, 26, 27, 33, 44, 79, 80, 91, 92, 107,
140, 142
Coggeshall  34, 35, 42
Cornell  I35
Crandall  35
Cranston  27, 28, 59, 69, 71, 136, 139, 142
Cromwell  66
De Warren  13
Dexter  62
Dickens  78
Dodge  77, 78
Drake  38
Dryden  17
Dungan  37, 136
Dyer  28, 31, 63
Earl of Cra-wEord  -  27
Earl of Warwick  23
Easton  27, 32, 44, 45, 67, 71, 126, 127, 132, 136
Edward IV  4
Eldred  126
Endicott  59, 64
Evans  9, 16
Evelyn  5
Field  72
Fletcher  130
Fowle  ,  70
Freeborn  126
Gardiner.  58, 59
George  78
Gorges  15

182 Page.
Gorton  21, 2.3, 27, 60, 79
Gould, 18, 20, 3.5, 38, 41, 42, 44, 63, 66, 126, 127, 136, 138
Greene  23, 60, 135, 140, 142
Harold  14
Harris  46
Hart  131
Harvey  1, 3, 9
Henry III  13
Henry VII  4
Hicks  59
Hiscox  131
Holden  23, 37, 60, 136
Holder  63
Holliman  !  34, 60, 63
Holmes  34, 35, 41, 68
Hubbard  131
Hussey  5, 24
Hutchinson  17, 22, 39
James I  6, 15, 92
Jefferay, 1, 3, 7, 8, 9, 10, 12, 14, 16, 70, 116, 135, 142, 143
Jenckes  131
King Philip  134
Knowles  126
Koshtosh  44
Lancaster  4
Latham  36, 37, 42, 136, 142
Legge  7
Long  59
Lord Weston  37
Maplet  go
Marbury  17 75
Mason  ^7
Massasoit  30

183 Page.
Melward  3
Miantonomi  22
Morton  15, 16, 65
Mowry  72
Mumford  131
Myles  130
Newman  61, 71
Osborne  135
Peckham  68
Potter  22
Power.  45
Queen Elizabeth  6, 65, 138
Eathbone  78
Eay  66, 75, 76, 77, 78
Ehodes  72
Eobmson  63
Eogers  41, 42
Eose  78
Sands  76, 77, 78
Sanford  39
Sassacus  17
Saunders  39
Scott  59, 75
Shakespeare  11
Sharpie  8
Sherman  '  28
Smith  8, 27, 32, 33, 34, 61, 63, 69, 72, 73, 136
Smiton  131
Stafford  28
Stanton  132
Stephenson  62
Stevenson  63

184 Page.
Tew  139
Thatcher  15
Thurston  140, 142
Torrey  34
Turner  9, 10, 16, 39
Uncas  22, 30
Vaughan  42, 44, 59, 75, 80, 115, 116, 12.5, 136, 142
Warner  63
Waterman  134
Wickenden  126
Willett  72, 128, 129, 130, 138
William the Conqueror  11, 14
Williams, 16, 17, 22, 26, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 45, 46, 61, 73,
79, 1.31, 138
Winthrop  16, 24, 33
Witter  35
York  4

INDEX TO PLACES.

Page.
Africa  132
Amesbury  61
Aquidneck (see Newport and Portsmouth) 
Barbadoes  28, 72, 109, 132, 139
Eath  60
Battle Abbey  13, 143
Beach (Easton's)  32
" (Sachuest)  32, 48, 67
" (Third)  49
Beachy Head  13, 143
Beaver Tail  69
Bedfordshire  42
Block Island  31, 65, 75
Boston  21, 23, 25, 39, 59, 63, 65, 92
Braintree  66, 77
Brenton's Eeef  127
Bristol  109
Bucks  46, 103
•Caius College  6, 7
¦Caius Court  7, 143
Cam  7
¦Cambridge  6, 7, 15, 27, 33, 143
Canterbury  11
¦Cape Ann  15, 82
Carribees  108
•Castle Eock  49
¦Cheselbourne  27
Chiddmgly. . . .1, 2, 5, 8, 9, 11, 12, 24, 28, 55, 70, 140, 143
¦Coasters Harbour Island  31

186 Paere.
Conanicut Island  31, 46, 69, 71, 139
Connecticut  17, 22, 30, 32, 33, 126, 132
Cordelyon (Coeur de Lion) Inn  10, 11, 14, 16, 143
Cormorant Eock  127
Datchet  103
Diamond Hill  61
Dorking  5, 24
Dorset  27
Dyer's Island  31
Elizabeth Islands  68, 139-
Elstow  36, 42
Ely Cathedral  7
Floating Island  62
Flower de Luce (Fleur de Lys)  10, 11, 143
Gates of Humility, Virtue, and Honour  6, 7, 143
Gay Head  68, 139
Gloucestershire  27
Goat Island  31
Golden Key  10, 16, 143
Gorton  27
Gould Island  44
Great Fissure  32, 48
Great Peak  48, 68
Great Pond  34, 76
Green End  67
Hailsham  5, S, 70
Hammersmith  95^ 139
Hanging Eocks  48
Hastings  13
Helluigly  8, 70
Hertfordshire  63
Holland  92, 113, 114, 129.

187 Page.
Ipswich  15, 65
Isles of Shoals  15, 77, 80, 108
Isle of Wight  25
Jeffrey's Neck  65
Kennebec  128, 129
King's Chapel  6, 143
Lancashire  37
Leith Hill  5
Lewes  5, 13,14S
Leyden  72, 129
Lincolnshire  92
Lion's Mouth  48
London, 1, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 14, 16, 28, 59, 73, 107, 140, 143
London Bridge  10, 73
London Prisons  8
Lynn  35, 131
Manhattan  22, 28, 72, 86, 129
Maryland  126, 128
Mattapoisett  139
Merrimack Elver.  139
Merry Mount  15, 65
Miantonomi HUl  20
Misquamicut  65, 68
Monadnock Mountam  62
Mount Harry.  13
Narragansett  30, 32, 33, 48, 63, 68, 126, 130, 139
NcAvfoundland  77
New Lodge  91
Ne-wport  18, 21, 23, 24-31 &c.
New York  72, 128
Niagara  87
North Elver.  36

188 . Page.
Patience Island  31
Pawtucket Falls  131
Pawtuxet  32, 34, 59, 60, 72, 131
Pequot Path  33
Plymouth  23, 30, 41, 42, 130
Pocasset  46
Portsmouth. .28, 31, 42, 44, 46, 49, 63, 126, 127, 128, 131, 135
Providence, 17, 22, 23, 25, 28, 32, 33, 34, 36, 42, 44, 45,
46, 59, 61, 63, 72, 75, 126, 131, 134, 135, 139
Prudence Island  37
Eehoboth  34, 61, 71, 130
Eome  2
Sachuest Point  49
Salem  15, 64
Scott's Pond  62
Seekonk  22
Sekonit  30, 48, 49, 134
South Downs  2
Southwark  10, 11, 16, 73, 143
Spouting Eock  43
St. Austin's  16
St. Faith's  59
St. Paul's  10, 16, 73
St. Saviour's  11, 143
St. Sepulchre's  73
Stone Mill  28, 41
Study Hill  61
Sussex  1
Swanzey  128, 130
Tabard Inn  11, 143
Taunton  139
Thatcher's Woe  15
The Broad  12
The Peaks  1, 8, 12, 70, 143

189 Page.
The Place  l
The Temple  10
Tring  63
Virginia  74, 75, 82
Wachuset Mountain  62
Wales  130
Warwick, 21, 22, 23, 25, 27, 32, 34, 36, 37, 42, 60, 63, 69,
126, 135
Watling Street  8, 10, 16, 143
Westerly  65, 68
West Island.  49
Westminster Abbey  66
Weymouth  15, 21, 59, 61
White Mountain  62
White Eocks  49
Wickford  27, 32, 34, 72, 126
Wiltshire  61
Wotton  5

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