LD CONCORD HIGHWAYS BYWAYS MARCART SIDNEY THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES GIFT OF THOMAS Q. LEMPERTZ OLD CONCORD HER HIGHWAYS AND BYWAYS BY MARGARET SIDNEY Author of The Pettibone Name Five Little Peppers The Golden West Hester and others ILLUSTRATED BOSTON D LOTHROP COMPANY FRANKLIN AND HAWLEY STREETS COPYRIGHT, 1888, BY D. LOTHROP COMPANY. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE. The site of the battle, showing the new bridge, the Minute Man, and the monument erected in 1836 ..... Fronds. The old Barrett house ......... n One corner of the " Muster Room " looking into kitchen . . . 15 Site of the old house, where the British soldiers drank from the well, and " Tory Bliss " was seen ....... 19 Fac-simile of an old engraving of the centre of the town, showing the British soldiers destroying the stores in the " Ebby Hub- bard " house, by throwing them into the mill-pond . . . 21 The " Ebby Hubbard house " with " Ebby " at the gate ... 25 Fac-simile of an old engraving showing the fight at the old North Bridge. The " Provincials " are on the further side ... 29 The Virginia road .......... 35 Thoreau's birthplace ......... 37 The tablet on the bluff 40 Meriam's corner . . . . . . . . . . 43 The old oven in the Meriam house ....... 46 The originator of the Concord grape .... .49 The study in the tower at " The Wayside "..... 53 The old Minott house ... ..... 59 The Thoreau corner ......... 62 Shattuck's store and the public storehouse ..... 64 In the Concord Library ......... 67 Mr. French's studio, where the Minute Man was modelled . . 71 A corner of Mr. French's studio, showing Ms statue of Endymion . 73 Thoreau's cave at Walclen Pond ....... 79 691237 List of Illustrations. Visitors* memorial on the site of Thoreau's hut. 81 On the Concord River .... 87 Fairhaven Hay .... 9 1 The tablet at Egg Rock . 95 The Elisha Jones house . 98 Avenue to the old Manse 99 Hawthorne's grave in Sleepy Hollow ... 102 Emerson's grave '03 The tablet on Keyes' Hill 106 Original site of Harvard College 107 The llosmer house "i The Governor Winthrop house 113 OLD CONCORD i. A SPRING day with free range through Old Concord ; then, if ever, comes that peace of body and mind that seldom blesses mortals. It may be that the legendary aroma of the amicable settle- ment between our enterprising fathers and the original owners, has permeated the old town. Certain it is that over the homesteads and fields broods a deep and abiding content. When all things shall come up for a final adjustment in the last great Day of days, it seems that Concord might be gently passed by, and allowed amid general dissolution, to hold herself together untouched. Other places suggest the hand of the innovator, and the in-letting of a little vitalized blood; Con- cord never. Towns, villages and cities grow up and flourish around her borders, awakening no 9 io Old Concord. envy, not even surprise. She knows it aii, being keenly alive to what is going on in Church or State. With a not unpleasing indifference to material progress, she adjusts her opinions on every subject, considers this adjustment final, and rests by her river, gentle, sluggish and persistent as herself. To accommodate the restless ones within her, it is said the neighboring city of B was founded. Hither go at early dawn, to seek a more stirring life among men, such as find their craving strong upon them, but they return at night, with a glad gleam in the eye, breathe " Concord " gratefully, and are satisfied. The best way to see Old Concord is to take a low phaeton and an easy-going horse ; with a superb indifference to time, to start without the worry of choosing your road. In any direction you will find rich fields. Arrange that the expedi- tion be made in a day with a smart turn-out, and you will return at night, your mind filled with a surprising array of tablets, inscriptions, a Minute Man, a battlefield, a glimpse it may be of the river, a curiosity shop, an alarming number of grave- yards, a sculptor's studio, homes of famous writers, Her Highways and Byways. 1 3 as badly mixed up as the children in " Pinafore;" and you call all this Concord, and wonder that people make such a fuss over it, and why you took the trouble to come over to see it, and wish you had struck off something from the list your well- meaning friend in town had given you of things you must not fail to see, so that you might have reserved time "to do" Lexington also. No ; the carriage must be easy to ride in, and easy to get out of, for frequent studies; it must only hold two persons, you and your appreciative friend, who beside a little knowledge of the town must also possess the rare gift of occasional silence. The horse must not be ambitious to get on. He must be reasonable, and not take it ill if occasionally you forget his existence and leave him tethered beyond the time, while you gather the secrets of the town. It will take several days to " do " Concord in this manner ; lazy driving about here and there, as your spirit wills, interviewing the old residents, who, in the seclusion of their ancient homesteads, are delightful indeed, and most valuable to you in your search for authentic records. There are no hazy " may-bes " about the town 14 Old Concord. and its history; no elaborate dressing up of tradi- tion. Everything is as open as the day for your inspection, and the bright sunlight of truth shines through it all. You are left free to study, search, and explore to your heart's content. No one is surprised that you have come ; no one urges you to stay. Here, if in any spot on earth, each is mas- ter of his own movements, and lord of his time. The indulgent reader will kindly understand that these sketches will not attempt to re-write Concord's history, nor estimate anew her literary life. They will treat of some of the old town's unwritten spots, and much that might escape the general sight-seer. But any study of Concord, however slight and methodless, must contain much of the past cent- ury's life so closely intertwined with that now going on in these quiet streets, and recognize the subtle influence of the immortal three who wrote, lived and are sheltered here in death. No sound greets us other than the crooning and clucking of the fowls, picking their way across the road, one eye on the carriage and its occupants, and the occasional " caw " of the adventurous crow hungrily threatening the adjacent meadow. The ONE CORNER OF THE " MUSTER ROOM " LOOKING INTO KITCHEN. Her Highways and Byways. 17 old gnarled apple-trees cast picturesque shadows on the grass of the door yard, which is guiltless of fencing, and over the old homestead as guilt- less of paint. \Ve draw rein ; quick footsteps are heard in the little entry; the door is thrown back, and our hospitable hostess smilingly bids us enter. " Do let us see the ' Muster Room,' * " we cry, " and tell us the story there," for this is the Colonel James Barrett house, and we have come for the record of the old homestead during the activities of the eventful nineteenth of April, 1775. With the directness of a child, and the quick utterance of one who knows her story well, and enjoys telling it, Miss A. ushers us in, and offers for our acceptance high-backed rockers, but we hasten to the delightful window-niches, and very soon we are no longer living in to-day, but a past century claims us. Colonel James Barrett, her great-grandfather (whose father lived before him in this old house), was born in 1710. He went through the French *The " Muster Room " is the lower front room as seen in the accompanying view of the house. It has two front windows and one on the side. The age of the house is not known: it has always been in the possession of the Barrett family. 1 8 Old Concord. War, to come out with impaired health. In the threatening times preceding the historic nineteenth, the important duty of buying the provincial stores was entrusted to him ; he kept a portion of them carefully under his personal supervision. He held also the responsibility of examining the soldiers and of enlisting them. This work was always done in the room in which we were sitting. Hence its name the "Muster Room." (There is a curious hole, shaped like a three-leaved clover, over the door; Miss A. pauses in her description, to tell us that her father said it was cut there when the house was built for what purpose, other than ventilation, the visitor cannot imagine.) When the British soldiers (a detachment under Captain Parsons being sent to the Barrett house for the stores, and to take Colonel James) were heard coming, the old mother of the Colonel was alone in the house. The family had urged her to flee to a place of safety, but the plucky old lady said, " No, I can't live very long anyway, and I rather stay and see that they don't burn down the house and barn." One of the descendants of the Colonel gives it as his opinion that probably two companies were Her Highways and Byways. 19 sent to the house about one hundred and fifty men. (Shattuck's History states three companies.) Captain Parsons stepped up, " Madam, I have orders to search your house." " You won't destroy private property ? " asked the old lady, not flinching. SITE OF THE OLD HOUSE, WHERE THE BRITISH SOLDIERS DRANK FROM THE WELL, AND "TORY BLISS " WAS SEEN. " No ; we will not destroy private property, but we shall take anything and everything we find that can be made into ammunition, or any stores, and our orders 'are to take Colonel James Barrett." Early in the morning, when the first news of 2O Old Concord. trouble to come, was heard, the men in the Barrett family ploughed up the land south of the old barn, in what is now the kitchen garden, a space of about thirty feet square, and while one led the oxen, the others followed and dropped into the furrow the muskets that were stored in the house then went back and turned the earth over them, thus conceal- ing them. They carried the musket balls into the attic and threw them into an empty barrel ; near by was another barrel about three quarters full of feathers ; these they turned over the balls. When searching the house, a soldier, spying the barrel, thought he had a prize, and thrust his hand into the feathers, stirring them up. An officer exclaimed crossly, " You fool you ! What do you expect to find there ! " Jeers instead of com- mendation being the soldier's lot, he stopped short in his investigations, and our forefathers had cause to bless that laugh of the Briton. There was a little trunk holding some pewter plates, very near the barrel. A soldier seized one end of this, lifted it and cried out, " This is heavy," preparing to break it in. The Colonel's old mother said immediately, " This is private property ; it belongs to a maiden lady in the family " so, s'Fig?,! ^ 3 =..'? B _ f K" S.=;3 5 * 2 -. M = re -J ts i 8 o." -:r:/> < n ' _. IS. d H 3 =.< =''=' = g . s 5 3- "3 3^-5-.r = ^J S Her Highways and Byways. 23 according to the promise fortunately secured from the commander, it remained undisturbed. On the first alarm, the Colonel's son Stephen (who, the family record in the old Bible tells us, was born in 1750) was sent to Price Place (the cross roads where four roads meet, now called Prison Station) to tell the minute men who were hurrying from Stow and Harvard, and the vicinity, not to go down the road by the Barrett House, but to take the on-eat road into town to the North O Bridge. How long he waited at his post, tradition saith not, but when he came back he passed around the house and entered the kitchen door. A British officer met him as his foot crossed the threshold, laid his hand on the young man's shoulder, and said, " I have orders to take you in irons to England." His quick-witted grandmother started up and cried : " No, this is my grandson. This is not Colonel James Barrett ; you may take him if you can find him." The soldiers, hungry and defiant, asked the old lady for something to eat. She, with manner as kindly as if ministering to the necessities of friends, brought out pans of milk and set before them, ac- 24 Old Concord. companied by sweet loaves of brown bread, saying, " We are commanded in the Bible to feed our ene- mies." After they had eaten the bread and milk, one soldier offered her money. She refused with dignity, saying, " It is the price of blood." He then threw it into her lap. The old barn that was then standing, was about forty feet distant from the house. The lane was the same as the present driveway, which is quite close to the homestead. The soldiers were eoinsr o o to burn the gun carriages there (the best ones had been saved by carrying them to Spruce gutter), but the old lady begged them not to do so, for she feared they would set fire to the barn. Her pluck had conquered their respect, and her kindness had made them gentle ; and they drew them to the side of the corn barn, a small building about ten feet square, nearer to the road, and close to the lane. Here they had their conflagration to suit themselves. The tradition is that one of the soldiers who searched the house came back and stayed several weeks with Colonel James. His name is believed to be Trott. And now Miss A.'s voice held a tremor of tender Her Highways and Byways. 25 sentiment as she related the story of the pretty daughter of the house of Barrett. Milicent was the granddaughter of Colonel James, the daughter of his son James who married and settled in the THK "EBBY HUBBARD HOUSE" WITH " EBBY " AT THE GATE. next house toward Price Place. Milly, being young and pretty, it must be acknowledged, had learned how to coquette, and, so the story goes, had captivated, while on a visit to relatives in Cambridge, the hearts of some British soldiers 26 Old Concord. whom she met in the cotillion and minuet, the dances of the day, especially fascinating one of the officers. She used to tease him, woman-like, to tell her how they managed their military affairs, and how they made their cartridges. He, man-like, told her the manner in which they made cartridges, adding if they should find out in England that he had given her the secret, he would, on his return, lose his head. (But it seems he had already lost that ! ) After the eventful nineteenth of April, she came home to her father's house and, woman-like again, at once proceeded to put her knowledge into good results. She gathered all her mates about her, and told them the secret ; and busily the young fingers flew, forming after the directions given by her British swain, the cartridges that were to save her brave countrymen. The scissors that she used were in the Old South Meeting House, but have been given to the Concord Library by a cousin of the heroine. The shadows on the grass are lengthening fast; the fowls that have been so noisily busy, begin to trail back across the road, thinking of twilight and Her Highways and Byways. 27 rest, when we come into the present century once more, and realize that we must leave the charming old house. " But first you must hear the story of that knoll yonder," cries Miss A., pointing out the side win- dow. We can see nothing but some trees in the distance, and we say so. " It is the site of another stopping-place of the British soldiers," she said in her quick, earnest way, determined to leave nothing untold that we mi^ht o o need to know. " At that time there was on the rise of ground next to this homestead a house occupied by Samuel Barrett and family. He was the only gunsmith living in this vicinity, and made the flint-lock guns for the minute men. It is said that at early dawn of the nineteenth of April a man on horseback, supposed to be ' Tory Bliss,' stopped by this old house, and pointed significantly to Colonel James Barrett's house. " There was a well near the dwelling at the foot of the tree. Here the British soldiers stopped and took long refreshing draughts ; as they drank, a woman in the house held up one of the children to let him see the troops. " Tradition says," continued Miss A., " an old 28 Old Concord. man in the family who was down in the village that morning, in the midst of the sudden tumult when those quiet farmers became determined fight- ers, expressed himself very plainly about the British ; instantly a rough soldier threatened to kill him to be met with the reply, ' There is no need of your doing that, for the Lord will save you the trouble in a very short time, for I am too old to live long.'" We seem to be hearing the fearless words of the old patriot as we drive by the quiet meadows, so eloquent of deeds. We have dropped helplessly into the past. Every inch of ground traversed brings us nearer to a mine of history and tradition the town's centre. The sites of the mill-pond, the mill, the old block-house and town-house, are now covered by the business of the town. Trade has taken pos- session of historic ground. To this centre, where the throbbing secrets of those perilous times were whispered with bated breath, the farmer of to-day comes to talk over, at the post-office and the store, the affairs of the whole world, discussed in the last newspaper. The " Ebby Hubbard house," as it was called, Her Highways and Byways. 31 was beyond the corner on Walden street. Here was a large quantity of grain and ammunition stored on the nineteenth of April, which the British destroyed by throwing into the mill-pond. Malt was made on the Hubbard place; the old malt-house at the end of the house proper, being blown down in the September gale ; the house was pulled down in 1874. The old homestead from the first sheltered a patriotism beyond ques- tion ; for years after when Ebenezer, or " Ebby," the name he carried among the townspeople, inher- ited the old place, he saved every cent that was possible from his hard earnings, to accomplish his cherished desire that a suitable memorial should mark the spot where the Provincials stood on the day of the fight, and that the old North Bridge should be replaced by a fitting structure. He died as he lived, alone ; the neighbors found him sitting in his chair one morning, but the old patriot had passed on. This was in 1870. Carrying out the provisions of his will, the year 1875 saw the Minute Man " telling the story in granite and bronze " to an eager multitude who thronged the new North Bridge to honor the nation's birthplace. While one detachment of the British soldiers 32 Old Concord. was thus destroying the stores taken from the "Ebby Hubbard " house, a second was sent to Colonel James Barrett's house, a third was guard- ing the Old South Bridge (the site of the present Fitchburg R. R. bridge on Main street), and the fourth was at the North Bridge. The Mill-pond occupied the meadow between Heywood street (then " Potter's Lane " ) and the Mill-dam and Lexington and Walden streets ; the site of the old mill being now covered by the gro- cery store. Traditions linger around the old mill. One is the following: When the soldiers entered to search for stores, the miller put each hand on a barrel of meal, say- ing, " This is my property, and you have no orders to disturb private property," thereby saving by his self-possession much that was intrusted to his care. It appears, in reviewing the history of Old Concord, that all the people were quick-witted on that eventful nineteenth of April. All honor to the minute men, and brave embattled farmers, but we must also acknowledge that the ready tact and sturdy fearlessness of those who went not up to battle helped " to hold the town that day." II. SHUT in by the Bedford thoroughfare and the turnpike running from Concord to Lexington, is a thread of a road. As it runs away from either of the highways which it connects, it seems to delight in nothing so much as executing a series of curves, winding in and out amonor the fields, and around O O an occasional rocky ledge, with indifference to the order a well-behaved road would be supposed to observe. It is a road run riot. And whoever drives down its alder and birch-bordered length, or knows its beauty enough to prefer a walk through it, feels at once as frolicsome and care- free as the wayfaring itself. It suggests the antics of a lamb, or the fresh joyousness of a child, with his hands full of daisies, in a sweet English lane. The ideal of quiet; up-springing life healthful and luxuriant, yet abounds on all sides. There is plenty of enterprise in the farms stretching off on 33 34 Old Concord. either hand ; all things blossoming and giving fruit with evidence of being well cared for. Young trees assert themselves most pictur- esquely in that old gnarled orchard back of yon- der stone wall. The very bushes by the roadside, based by the clumps of ferns, grow greener, sweeter and more wholesome than in any other road of our acquaintance. How inexpressibly fresh the air ! Long ago, so one is told by the " oldest inhabi- tant " (that convenient individual who shoulders all our slips in accuracy), a negro slave, freed and sent to Boston by his master, built a little cabin on the plains, as the open fields were then called. He was known to his townsfolk as " Old Virginia." At this time it was a mere footpath that ran by the door of the little cabin, and it soon became, in village parlance, the " Old Virginia Lane," which name it retained for many years after the town had widened it. It is at times so narrow, and it has acquired such a trick of doubling and twisting, that the traveler going from the Bedford road is not sur- prised to come suddenly upon a small house with its adjacent barn that appears to block his progress, suggesting the unpleasant thought that he has Her Highways and Byways. 37 mistaken his way, and is after all making straight into somebody's door-yard. A few steps, however, and the road opens again to his encouraged view around the house, into apparently endless windings. A tidy little homestead of the pattern so common THOREAU'S BIRTHPLACE. in New England as to be describable bv the him- , j dred, meets us at the gentle slope ; and presently we come upon two poplars gaunt and grim, seem- ing to say, " we guarded the homestead that you seek." 38 Old Concord. " We must believe them," we exclaim, and draw rein, to pay tribute of respect to their undoubted connection with Thoreau. We are delighted to find it all true ; that the house in which Thoreau was born, was moved some time afterward from the shelter of the poplars, to its present position of treeless waste. A little more of doubling and winding, and we see the house, an ugly, square flat-faced domicile, given up to a foreign element that swarms in and out its old door. But nothing can undo the fact that within its walls the nature-poet first saw the light of day. So we gaze reverently at the unpict- uresque shell of a habitation, and determine to see if possible its interior. A surly dog responds to our insinuating rap on the door, by running around the house, piercing the air with short, nervous barks, thus hastening the approach of the good woman of the family who cuffs him for his pains and turns a pleasant face to us. She willingly assents to our request to see the old house, and we step over the threshold, the dog, notwithstanding his rebuff, carefully at our heels, and we are soon within the front room at our left, Her Highways and Byways, 39 which we half believe is the apartment where Thoreau was born. As authorities differ, however, we must see the other room that claims the honor, and we beg the privilege. The good woman hesi- tates, then bursts out, " 'Tain't decent to look at, we keep our oats and apples and odds and ends there. I'm a-going to fix it up and paper and paint it when my son gets time, but " *' If we only may," we interrupt the stream. She smiles and relents, and presently we are over the stairs and within the room. Neither of the apart- ments is in the least interesting. The house is not old enough to be quaint, and nothing of its interior calls for a description. It is Thoreau's birthplace ; this is its only claim for attention. We pass out silently, and resume our journey. At every curve of the old road, we seem to drop some pestering care ; we are so shut off from the world's highway, that we have absolutely forgotten the gnat-like demands upon our lives. It is as if we were free once more with that security that we do not remember since childhood. And no one shall say us " nay " if we loiter blissfully where we will. The next moment and we turn sharply into the broad highway cleverly concealed by one Old Concord. of the usual curves. Life once more takes us up with a " Why have you tarried so long ? " and we are on the turnpike leading to Lexington. THE TABLET ON THE BLUFF. Once on the broad thoroughfare and we are in the clutches of the spirit of unrest again. We can no more resist her, than deny admittance to the air that enters our lungs. Her Highways and Byways. 41 " Only a bit further to the tablet on the bluff. What a pity to come so far and leave it unseen," says our companion wheedlingly so we are gra- cious ; particularly as our inclination points that way also. Before we reach the bluff, we can see the guide board beyond, at the junction of two roads. It tells us that " both roads lead to Lexington." On the green sward underneath, lies stretched a lazy pilgrim, familiarly called " a tramp," who doubtless oppressed by the activity calling for a choice of roads, concludes to sleep over it. We can almost feel his sullen eyes upon us, querying the Fate that would give us a carriage and deny him one ; but in the shadow of the tablet telling of our ancestors' courage, shall we be afraid ? As long as our tramp moves not, we will stay and get our record : THIS BLUFF WAS USED AS A RALLYING POINT BY THE BRITISH APRIL 19, 1775. AFTER A SHARP FIGHT THEY RETREATED TO FISKE HILL FROM WHICH THEY WERE DRIVEN IN GREAT CONFUSION. 42 Old Concord. How difficult to believe that this same stony, dusty thoroughfare once echoed terror to the quiet dwellers whose homes lay in the path of the de- stroyer. Fancy how gay they were, those conquer- ing eight hundred soldiers fresh from the massacre at Lexington, and jubilant over the easy victory before them. But the retreat was there ever such another! Sore, defeated, confused, they hurry from the concealed fires of every bush, till they are routed on this bluff, to scatter in a panic-stricken rush for their lives. The blood in us stirs this mild spring day as we go over the story learned so long ago in the well- thumbed books of our childhood. Not even a gentle bird giving some deprecatory advice to her mate as to the location of their first housekeeping venture, nor the soft spring air playing through the thicket crowning the slope, can soothe us into our usual habit of mind. We wonder if it is the best thing, after all, to record our victories on the face of Nature, chang- ing the peaceful hum of the cricket and the sono- rous call of the rustic to his lazy oxen, into the clash of the bayonet and the rattle of musketry, and making it delightful to feel blood-thirsty. Her Highways and Byways. 43 We remark as much to our companion whose eye gleams, as we feel that our own is gleaming. She sits straight in our ancient vehicle, and says it MERIAM'S CORNER. all with stiffened vertebrae, without uttering a word, " We cannot quench History." But our tramp is stirring, and we may be quenched, so we turn ingloriously, and rattle back over the stony " pike." 44 Old Concord. Aftei a day in Old Concord, no one is justified in surprise at coming upon a tablet. And no matter how many times one reads the inscription on one of these constantly recurring granite blocks, there is always an involuntary pause (unless hurry- ing to catch a train) in their vicinity. It is some- times a trifle uncomfortable to be so historically surrounded. At present we are in quest of all such landmarks. So leaving the tablet on the bluff and resuming our course toward Concord Centre, we welcome another at the junction of the Lexington and Bedford roads : MERIAM'S CORNER THE BRITISH TROOPS RETREATING FROM THE OLD NORTH BRIDGE WERE HERE ATTACKED IN FLANK BY THE MEN OF CONCORD AND NEIGHBORING TOWNS AND DRIVEN UNDER A HOT FIRE TO CHARLESTOWN. Set back from the road, its side close upon the Bedford thoroughfare, is a square, dingy yellow house with a lean-to and venerable doors. It is Her Highways and Byways. 45 picturesque from the road, its door-yard guarded by two flourishing trees of a later date ; and from this point appears well-built and able to easily stand the strain of another century. But turning into the Bedford road, the house suddenly belies its brave front, and seems to be on the verge of decrepitude. A second glance, however, shows us that it is only a series of out-buildino-s clinonno; to each other till o o o the word to drop comes, when they will probably all go loyally as one. Here we catch a glimpse of a round, good-nat- ured face at the window, and we approach the house, and beg for the local traditions. The matron, we find, is pleased to tell us, and the good man of the house corroborates it all, the informa- tion being drawn from the descendants of the old family, the original owners of the house. Con- densed it reads like this : When the good wife of the Meriam household heard the drums of the approaching foe, she ran and barricaded the front door with chairs, but the soldiers, hungry and cross, pushed it open and found their way to the kitchen, where, sniffing the hot johnny cake in the brick oven, they drew it out in a trice, while two of their number hurried to the barn to milk the cows. 46 Old Concord. Meanwhile " the girls " of the family, rushed across the road (which then ran over the present corn-field) and hid in the clump of quince bushes growing near the site of the barn put up by the present pro- prietor, while other members of the household dug THE OLD OVEN IN THE MERIAM HOUSE. up from the ash-pit in the cellar the store of silver money (thirty dollars) there concealed and carried it to a place of safety. The milkers at the barn were presently alarmed by the sound of the approaching Billerica minute men, and they retreated in haste, without the com- Her Highways and Byways. 47 fortable breakfast they anticipated. As they strag- gled off precipitately " Slow Meriam," as he was called, one of the sons (" never was known to be first in anything," in the \vords of our narrator), took down his old gun and deliberately aimed at an officer. " He has more stripes on than any of the others," he said, evidently intending to make a brilliant amende for his slowness. The British sol- diers hurrying off over the Lexington pike turned and gave the old house many random shots. One bullet pierced the east door. The hole has been filled up, but the mark made by the bullet is easily seen by the visitor. The old brick oven that baked the Meriam's bread a century ago, is still baking a family loaf on certain occasions, and the quaint closets over the shelf whose doors open in the centre, and the "corner closet," shelter as they did then, household articles of various kinds. It is like many another old Concord dwelling, just as fit to live in now, as it was in the old days, and holding twice as much comfort as any of our "Queen Annes," or nondescript "villas." We are sorry to go, but the originator of the Concord grape has expressed himself willing to receive us, and we repair to his dwelling, which, 48 Old Concord. to use a localism, " is just a piece up the road/' " He is in his greenhouse, of course," says my companion, who knew of him by hearsay. " Oh ! I hope among his grapes," we cry. And we are right. There stands the old man, kindly, and keen-eyed, of middle height, and tough, sinewy build. He has the face of a scholar, a shrewd man of the world, and a lover of Nature. He is self-possessed as a ruler over a large domain, yet Fate has de- creed him a small pittance of this world's goods. He is royally happy, and not a cloud dims his out- look on men and things, whom he \vatches with an observant eye, prepared as few are to keep abreast with the times. With a simplicity that is charm- ing, the old man receives us, and going on with his work of gently pruning his beloved vines, he gives us quiet deference, and listens patiently to every word. We speak of the Concord grape, and find that ill health proved to him a blessing, for it drove him fifty years ago to this home and occupation, and made it possible for him to slowly evolve the precious fruit from the wild cumberer of the ground. The story is familiar to all would that every one might hear it from the old man's lips. We are glad to remember as we listen, that public Her Highways and Byways. 51 acknowledgment has been made of the value of the Concord grape, and, at the same time, due honor was given to its originator. It is pleasant to think of one instance, at least, where appreciation is paid to the living, and Fame has a chance to be enjoyed by the one who has earned her favor. The queer little house with its lean-to that looks as if it were built to encourage the greenhouse, is really somewhat commodious, as a family of ten children was brought up within its walls. That the sons and daughters tarried no longer in the home than early youth, must be supposed, in order to believe the story. We have, by dropping in among the Concord grape-vines this pleasant morning, happened upon rich findings, indeed. We are delighted to learn that so much of the vicinity of the old garden where we stand is teeming with traditions for us. Concord being the shire town, and the stages running up and down over this old road, quite a local business in the memory of our friend, naturally sprang up here. One must always remember that in the orig- inal settlement of the town, the first houses were built between the mill-dam and Meriam's Corner, on the north side of the road, up against the sand- 52 Old Concord. hill, which afforded protection from the winds and storms of winter, and allowed them to be more easily constructed. If only this old road as it was then, could be reproduced for us ! But the most slender accounts of the original appearance of the settle- ment, are all that remain for us. We can reach back quite far, however, to credible tales. The memory of our friend or traditions told to him supply much that is interesting. One French who served in the Revolution, lived in the old house we are now examining. He was a blacksmith, and his shop was in the corner of the grounds next to The Wayside which adjoins. He lived there till two years before the present occupant came, which was in 1837. In the corner of Love Lane, which strikes off from the Lexington road opposite The Wayside, stood a large Headquarters for the stage depart- ment ; the letters were distributed by the stages and taken up from the deputy post-office for this quarter, which was kept in the little square house, forming the main part of The Wayside, whose time of building antedates all tradition. In this little house lived one Samuel Hoar, a man who came from Lincoln, a wheelwright by profession. The story Her Highways and Byways. 55 goes that he lived and died in the belief that when he died, his spirit would pass into a white horse. (He was evidently trying to eclipse the former occu- pant of the dwelling whom Hawthorne has made immortal by recounting his fixed belief that he had found the secret of perpetual life.) His shop stood in the angle of the old stone wall adjoining the grounds of our friend Mr. B. Long years after it was cut in two, one half being attached to either end of The Wayside. Afterward a Col. Cogswell of Grafton, who was o born in Mr. B.'s house and whose father was an officer in the Revolutionary War, bought The Way- side. He moved West, and subsequently sold the place to Mr. Alcott. Here lived the " Little Women " Jo, Meg, Beth and Amy and made the little old house a cheery home indeed ! Here Joe scribbled, and Amy wrestled with her fine words ; here was Beth's little cottage piano, and here Meg mothered them all when dear Mrs. March was away. In 1852 Nathaniel Hawthorne bought the place, naming it " Wayside," the Alcott family removing to Boston. Old Montefiore an Italian lived on the esplanade 56 Old Concord. midway between Meriam's Corner and Mr. B.'s house. He made confections and a certain kind of cakes, quite as popular as the " Election cake " of training-day renown. It is related that on a sad recital of the ill health of good Dr. Ripley in Montifuero's ears, he looked at first sympathetic, then brightened up. " If he die, what a lot of cakes I will sell," anticipating the big crowd drawn to the town. Passing The Wayside (which we do not enter, as it is not our purpose to tarry in spots already well written up) we recall the prefatory letter to a friend accompanying the "Snow Image" in which Haw- thorne wrote, " Was there ever such a weary delay in obtaining the slightest recognition from the public as in my case ? I sat down by the wayside of life, like a man under enchantment, and a shrub- bery sprang up around me and the bushes grew to be saplings, and the saplings became trees, until no exit appeared possible through the entangling depths of my obscurity." His son-in-law, George P. Lathrop, quoting this in a published article, adds, "Although the name 'The Wayside,' applies to the physical situation, Hawthorne probably also connected with it a fanciful symbolism. I think it Her Highways and Byways. 57 pleased him to conceive of himself, even after he became famous, as sitting by the wayside and observing the show of human life while it flowed by him." The Orchard House, Mr. Alcott's home after he sold The Wayside to Mr. Hawthorne, is separated from it by a rustic fence whose present state is more a shadow of the past than a reality. Here the father gardened, held conversations, wrote his poems, and originated the School of Philosophy. The daughter opened the golden way to Fame and Fortune by the realistic drama of " Little Women " that was immediately set up on the stage of every quiet home-centre. The old house now holds a delightful influence, strong and far-reaching toward the solution of the educational and social problems of the day. " The Chapel " hanging to the side of the hill with philosophic calmness, annually re-fills the scholars who gather there with the year's supply of analytic wisdom. We pause beneath the knot of pines by the road- side guarding the home of Emerson, and this from "The Poet" springs involuntarily to our compan- ion's lips : - 58 Old Concord. " The gods talk in the breath of the woods, They talk in the shaken pine, And fill the long reach of the old seashore With dialogue divine ; And the poet who overhears Some random word they say, Is the fated man of men Whom the ages must obey." And we return for answer, " Never did the ' fated man of men whom the ages must obey,' utter a truer note than this : " 'Be of good cheer, brave spirit ; steadfastly Serve that low whisper thou hast served ; for know God hath a select family of sons Now scattered wide through earth, and each alone Who are thy spiritual kindred, and each one By constant service to that inward law, Is weaving the divine proportions Of a true monarch's soul. Beauty and strength, The riches of a spotless memory. The eloquence of truth, the wisdom got By searching of a clear and loving eye That seeth as God seeth. These are their gifts, And Time, who keeps God's word, brings on the day To seal the marriage of those minds with thine, Thine everlasting lovers. Ye shall be The salt of all the elements, world of the world.'" Half-way up the opposite gentle slope is the old " Minott House." The frame of this dwelling was on the corner of The Wayside grounds a century Her Highways and Byways. 61 the remains of a barn. Moved to its CD present position, and altered to the dwelling now known to the town-folk, it is a place that wooes artists most seductively ; possessing the right pose on the hill-side, the proper drapery of elm-boughs around its weather-stained walls, and exactly the proportion of gentle dilapidation, to make a pleas- ing picture. The little street (Heywood) fronting the fine old family mansion two centuries old of the same name, is identical with " Potter's Lane." Continuing toward the mill-dam on the right hand side of Lexington Street, we find an inter- esting group of houses, one needing special men- tion, the " old Brown House " ; built by Reuben Brown, a harness-maker whose shop was next toward the centre, and in whose house cartridges were made a century ago. A few curious bits of this interior give a hint of the old-time quaintness of the house to those who care for the study of such things. Passing down the cellar stairs, one sees a small square door in the wall, opening into a room by the side of the chimney ten feet high and about six feet broad, where the bacon was smoked, the are bein^ made with corncobs. O 62 Old Concord. At the foot of the cellar stairs, a bit to the right, there is the same swinging oaken shelf supported by heavy iron chains that held the Thanksgiving pies and " Election cake " so many generations ago. Underneath it are the two beams of oak, THE THOREAU CORNER. where the cider barrels reposed. The " living room " with its big fireplace is the family room of a century and a quarter ago. The old house was inherited by the son, Deacon Brown ; and thirty- two years ago it passed into the hands of the family who recently sold it to the Antiquarian Society. Her Highways and Byways. 63 Mrs. C. tells us that Mr. Emerson used at one time the upper front east room with its open fireplace, as a study. Here he wrote many lectures and essays. The old house is now occupied by Mr. C. E. Davis, who has moved thither, by invitation of the Antiquarian Society, his large, oddly-assorted, most interesting collection of colonial furniture, curi- osities and relics, hitherto kept in several rooms in the Court House. Here is the " Thoreau Corner," where are grouped the bed, the desk, the chair and table used by the nature-lover in his hut at Walden and his other homes. On the desk lie the paper-folder and the quill pen picked up where it lay after recording the last words of Thoreau. No one should visit old Concord without paying tribute to the Antiquarian House, whose quaint sign in all the glory of fresh paint, swings allur- inHv from a cross-beam between the two old trees O ./ fronting the dwelling;. O O And now we come a bit further up the road to the Unitarian Church on our left, and next to it, the famous old Wright Tavern. Fronting the o o little park where stands the monument to the mem- 6 4 Old Concord. ory of the Concord men who fell in the Civil War. is a long old building. A century ago, the inhabitants of Concord saw over the door of the centre of this building the O sign, D. Shattuck and Co., paints and oils, drugs, SHATTUCK'S STORE AND THE PUBLIC STOREHOUSE. etc., one end being occupied by Mr. Shattuck as his residence; the other was used as a public storehouse. This last addition afterward became Thoreau's home for a time. " I do not dare to look at the clock on the church," says our companion. " Let us ignore it." Her Highways and Byways. 65 But it is striking six, and we remember that no voice of the church should fall upon the unwilling ears of the pilgrims, even though sorely tempted by the rich yield of a " Concord day." We turn sub- missively toward home. III. LET us first visit the Library," so proposes our companion at the breakfast table. On the part of the humble chronicler of these days in Old Con- cord, there is supreme delight, having, since our entrance into her river-girt borders, desired just this hour in her Library. The order is given for the easy-going beast who by this time quite under- stands our erratic movements, and takes no little pride in meeting all demands upon him with gentle resignation, to be made ready and waiting at the door. Many of our readers know well the history of this great gift to the town. Through the wise forethought of a public-spirited citizen, esteemed for that sterling virtue and keen intellect that marks New England character, it planted itself in the very heart of the daily life of the people, where, going or coming, to toil or to pleasure, they must see its presence and hear the voice from its elo- 66 Her Highways and Byways. 67 quent halls : " Come up hither ; freely take, and learn how best to live." It is impossible for the youngest citizen of Con- IN THE CONCORD LIHRARY. cord to forget the existence of the Library. Beau- tifully placed, on the point running down between two prominent streets, with a little park in front, that the generosity of the donor has provided shall always be kept open, the lawn like a bit of English 68 Old Concord. grass for greenery and luxuriant smoothness, it appeals to the eye, and woos the senses. It is most attractive of exterior. A mural tablet in the vestibule tells the visitor that - WILLIAM MUNROE BORN IN CONCORD, JUNE 24, 1806 BUILT THIS LIBRARY AND GAVE IT WITH FUNDS FOR ITS MAINTENANCE AND EXTENSION FOR THE USE OF THE INHABITANTS OF HIS NATIVE TOWN. On entering the Main Hall one naturally turns to the left into the Reading Room admirably adapted to its purpose, and well supplied with the current magazines and periodicals. Here are several historic reminders of Concord's Great Day; a curious sketch of Concord Jail hangs on the wall. An explanatory note under it says : " The jail in which General Sir Archibald Camp- bell and Wilson were confined when taken off Boston by a French Privateer. This sketch was made either by Campbell or his fellow pris- oner during their confinement in 1777." Her Highways and Byways. 69 Here also hang the scissors used by Milicent Barrett in making cartridges during these memora- ble days ; and on the opposite wall is a quaint hand- bill evidently circulated with its fellows to stir up patriotism in the young American blood, entitled, under a row of black coffins, " Bloody Butchery by the British Troops, or, Runaway Fight of the Reg- ulars," and having some memorial verses appended to those " worthies who fell in the Concord Fight." There is a fine, half-length portrait in oil over the mantel of Ralph Waldo Emerson, whose serene spirit broods over this realm of thought, lending inspiration to the students and casual readers gath- ered around the tables and in little groups through the room. The view of the Main Hall given in the accom- panying illustration, shows the alcove devoted to the Concord Authors. In its centre is the bust of the donor of the Library ; on either hand the busts of Hawthorne and Emerson. In the fore- ground, stands the statue of the Minute Man, one of Concord's greatest works, and which she is never tired of honoring. Busts of Plato, Agassiz and Horace Mann, voiceless yet eloquent, are on the other sides of the Hall. 7