with restful benches here as well. Here, one can look across the little
harbor to old Fort Sewall, and here, just at the base of the fort, so
says Mr. Bynner, is the probable site of the home of Agnes Surriage.
[Illustration]
A walk to the old fort is full of interest. Many shady spots are there,
in which to rest, and watch the waves breaking on the rocks below. From
this point it is but a step to the terminus of the electric cars, at
the foot of Circle Street. In this street, upon the right, is old Floyd
Ireson’s house, dark and weather-beaten. But the tourist is advised not
to ask too many questions concerning him, of the old Marbleheaders;
for it is a tender point with them, and it is whispered that Mr.
Whittier’s ballad is more fraught with fancy than with fact.
From this point, it is interesting to walk up the hill, following the
windings and turnings of the street. Let the traveller not fail to
look into the queer old back-yards, and at the gardens, filled with
old-fashioned flowers, gorgeous in their splendor, nor to turn and
view the prospect toward the town. The quaint streets here are filled
with old and picturesque houses. Some are fine examples of colonial
architecture, and some are interesting as the birthplaces of eminent
men. These places should be preserved and marked with appropriate
tablets.
Now cross over to the hill on which sits the Abbott memorial. Here are
many stately old houses, well worth the attention of the sight-seer.
The electric cars or the steam railway are near at hand, on the other
side of the hill, and to return to Boston by way of Salem is a pretty
ride.
So much for Agnes and Marblehead. Her stately house at the North End in
Boston, from the windows of which she watched the battle of Bunker
Hill, has long since gone; but Copp’s Hill burying-ground, the Old
North Church, Paul Revere’s house, and many other old houses are still
there.
[Illustration: Circle Street and “Old Flud Orson’s” House]
And now, of Martha Hilton. Portsmouth was her home and the scene of her
brilliant matrimonial campaign. This is one of the most picturesque
of our New England towns. Aldrich’s “An Old Town by the Sea” should
be read by the pilgrim on his way. No one loves the old town more,
or knows it better than he. Much remains, here, to tell of Martha
Hilton, but a day well suffices to see it all. A short walk from the
railway-station is a pleasant, old-fashioned market square. At times
it is filled with wagons of hay and loads of wood, while, all about,
is a subdued bustle. From this square leads Pleasant Street, well
named, and, only a few steps away, it is crossed by State Street, once
Queen Street, at the foot of which once stood Stavers’ Inn, the “Earl
of Halifax.” It was in the doorway of this inn that Mistress Stavers
“fied” Martha Hilton _circa anno Domini_ 1754. No print or picture of
this old inn is known to exist. Beyond State Street is Court Street,
with interesting old houses, and some of the ancient flagging here
and there. On the cross streets is more of this, with sometimes a
gutter in the middle of the street. All of this portion of the town
is interesting, dirty, primitive, and full of memories. Parallel with
Pleasant Street are Washington and Water streets, from which, at right
angles, run a dozen lanes, not a whit altered since Martha’s time. Here
is where the sailors in pig-tails and petticoats used to gather. At the
corner of Water and Gardiner streets, let the visitor notice the great
golden linden, overshadowing a house as old and as lovely as the tree
itself.
The neighborhood is full of old houses, with hip roofs and gables. The
Point of Graves, a stone’s throw away, is sadly neglected. Children
sometimes play on a large, flat tombstone, and curiosity-seekers skip
from one headstone to another, in search of the oldest date. The
old stones are sculptured with grim skulls and cross-bones, or with
humorous cherubs. One thinks of the days Tom Bailey spent here, when he
was a blighted being. Let us hope that it was a more secluded spot then
than now.
Close by is Manning Place, very short, and at the corner is the square,
strong house, built prior to 1670, where Benny Wentworth and his
sires were born. A grand place this once was, with its lawn extending
to Puddle Dock. Once this was a fair inlet, but now no one will dispute
the rightfulness of its name.
[Illustration: “This is where the sailors in pigtails and petticoats
used to be.”]
From this point it is a pleasant walk to the old Wentworth mansion,
where Martha came, slaved and conquered, even receiving as her guest
the Father of his country. Skirt around the Point of Graves, and follow
along the water side, by the Gardiner House and its big linden, over
the bridge, and past the Proprietors’ burying-ground; everywhere it
is picturesque. From thence let the traveller follow the left fork
of the road in full view of the river for a portion of the way, and
thence pass through pine groves and between great bowlders, until,
with a sudden descent, a fair prospect seaward bursts upon the vision.
At one’s feet, toward the left, is the old house, “malformed and
delightful.” I well remember when it was venerable in appearance and in
its rooms were to be seen the old spinet, the Strafford portrait, and
many other things so delightful to the antiquary. But, alas! it now is
“spick-span” in yellow and white paint, and set back in a well-groomed
lawn.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: The Gardiner House and the Linden]
The visitor will, of course, wish to see St. John’s. It has an
interesting interior. Here is the old plate, the “Vinegar” Bible, and
other quaint and curious things. The steeple is modern. All about are
fine old houses and great spreading trees. Stoodley’s, too, one will
wish to see, where the gallant captain “fiddled far into the morning.”
It is the brick building, marked “Custom House,” and it stands at the
corner of Daniel and Penhallow streets.
[Illustration]
These are the principal points of interest connected with the life of
Martha Hilton, but Portsmouth old and quaint affords much more to which
the eye of the lover of the antique will surely turn.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Every one visits Plymouth, the home of Priscilla. There is little
need to dwell upon this place here. A Plymouth pilgrimage, if by sea,
is easy and pleasant. Of guide-books there is no lack, and all that
remains of the Puritan maiden’s time is readily found. Even Plymouth
Rock is carefully enclosed; and rightly, too, else it would long
since have been carried away in fragments. On the hill is the old
burying-ground, from which fine views may be had of the old town and
of the harbor where the “Mayflower” lay at anchor, the sweeping coast
here low in sandy dunes, now high in bolder bluffs. The electric car
is here also, which takes one the length of the town and far beyond,
passing the Memorial Hall, where are so many relics of old colony days.
Plymouth, indeed, is easily to be seen. It is the Mecca, to-day, of
many pilgrims. What has been done for Plymouth, I have tried to do for
the other old towns into whose histories are woven the lives of our
heroines. Many of these old houses will soon have passed away. Many
have disappeared within a few years past. Let us hope, however, that
the little now left to us will long remain, and especially may we hope
will be preserved all that serves to remind us of these Three Heroines
of New England Romance.
[Illustration: THE END]
FOOTNOTE:
[1] “Sir Charles Henry Frankland, or Boston in the Colonial Times.”
Elias Nason, M. A. Albany, N. Y.: J. Munsell.
* * * * *
Transcriber’s Note: Repeated major section titles were removed. Varied
hyphenation was retained as printed. The list of illustrations and
the captions on the illustrations varied widely. This was retained.
The illustrations were moved to stop them interrupting the middle of
paragraphs so the page numbers in the list will often not match the
actual location of the illustration mentioned.