Читать книгу: «The Bay State Monthly. Volume 2, No. 2, November, 1884», страница 3

An Act to set off certain Lands from the town of Groton, and annex the same to the town of Shirley.

Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives, in General Court assembled, and by the authority of the same, That a tract of Land at the south western extremity of the town of Groton, bounded by a line beginning at a large white oak stump, on the southeast side of Nashua River, being the northwest corner of the town of Harvard; thence running southeasterly on Harvard line, as the town bounds direct, till it comes to the stump of a pine tree lately fallen down, an antient bound mark in said town line; thence northerly to a heap of stones by the road leading to Harvard at SIMON DABY'S southerly corner, thence northeasterly on said SIMON DABY'S line to a pine tree marked, thence northerly to a heap of stones on a ledge of rocks; thence northerly on said SIMON DABY'S line to a heap of stones on a large rock; thence northwesterly still on said SIMON DABY'S line to a stake and stones in the roots of a pine tree, fallen down, in a valley, said SIMON DABY'S northeast corner and SAMUEL CHASE'S southerly corner, thence northerly on said SAMUEL CHASE'S line, to the road leading to ABIL MORSE'S mill, at a heap of stones on the north easterly side of said road, thence northeasterly on said SAMUEL CHASE'S line by said road to a heap of stones, thence northeasterly on said CHASE'S line, to a stake and stones at the end of a ditch at a brook; thence down said brook to Nashua River, thence up said river, to the bounds first mentioned, together with the inhabitants thereof, be, and they are hereby set off from the town of Groton and annexed to the town of Shirley, there to do duty and receive privileges in the same manner as other lands and inhabitants of the said town of Shirley.

SECT. 2. Provided nevertheless, and be it further enacted, That the said tract of land and the inhabitants thereof shall be liable to be taxed by the town of Groton, their full proportion in a tax to the amount of the debts now due from said town of Groton, in the same manner as if this act had not been passed: Provided such tax be made and assessed within one year from the time of passing this act; and shall also be liable to pay their proportion of all state taxes that may be assessed on the town of Groton until a new valuation be taken.

[This act passed February 6, 1798.]

All the changes of territorial jurisdiction thus far noted have been in one direction,—from Groton to the surrounding towns; but now the tide turns, and for a wonder she received, by legislative enactment, on February 3, 1803, a small parcel of land just large enough for a potato-patch. The annexation came from Pepperell, and the amount received was four acres and twenty rods in extent. The following is a copy:—

An act to set off a certain parcel of land from the town of Pepperell, in the county of Middlesex, and to annex the same to the town of Groton, in the same county.

Be it enacted by the Senate and House of Representatives, in General Court assembled, and by the authority of the same, That a certain tract of land, bounded, beginning at the end of a wall by the road leading by Zachariah Fitch's, in said Groton; thence running easterly, by land of Jonas Fitch, to the Nashua River, (so called;) thence up said river to said road, near the bridge over the same river; thence, bounding by the same road, to the bounds first mentioned, containing four acres and twenty rods, be, and hereby is set off from said town of Pepperell and annexed to said town of Groton forever.

[This act passed February 3, 1803.]

The Worcester and Nashua Railroad was opened through the township of Groton in the month of December, 1848. It ran at that time a distance of eight miles through its territory, keeping on the east side of the Nashua river, which for a considerable part of the way was the dividing line between Groton and Pepperell. The railroad station for the people of Pepperell was on the Groton side of the river, and in the course of a few years a small village sprang up in the neighborhood. All the interests and sympathies of this little settlement were with Pepperell; and under these circumstances the Legislature, on May 18, 1857, passed an act of annexation, by which it became in reality what it was in sentiment,—a part and parcel of that town. The first section of the act is as follows:—

An act to set off a part of the Town of Groton, and annex the same to the Town of Pepperell.

Be it enacted, &c., as follows:

All that part of the town of Groton, in the county of Middlesex, with the inhabitants thereon, lying north of the following described line is hereby set off from the town of Groton, and annexed to the town of Pepperell, to wit: Beginning at the boundary between said town of Groton and the town of Dunstable, at a stone monument in the wall on land of Elbridge Chapman and land of Joseph Sanderson, and running south, eighty-six degrees west, about six hundred and sixty rods, to a stone monument at the corner of land called the "Job Shattuck Farm," and land of James Hobart, near the Nashua River and Worcester and Nashua Railroad; thence in same line to the centre of Nashua River and the boundary of said town of Pepperell: provided, however, that for the purpose of electing a representative to the general court, the said territory shall continue to be a part of the town of Groton, until a new apportionment for representatives is made; and the inhabitants resident therein shall be entitled to vote in the choice of such representatives, and shall be eligible to the office of representative in the town of Groton, in the same manner as if this act had not been passed.

Map of Groton Plantation in 1884.

The latest legislation connected with the dismemberment of the original grant—and perhaps the last for many years to come—is the Act of February 14, 1871, by which the town of Ayer was incorporated. This enactment took from Groton a large section of territory lying near its southern borders, and from Shirley all that part of the town on the easterly side of the Nashua River which was annexed to it from Groton on February 6, 1798.

Thus has the old Groton Plantation, during a period of more than two centuries, been hewed and hacked down to less than one-half of its original dimensions. It has furnished, substantially, the entire territory of Pepperell, Shirley, and Ayer, and has contributed more or less largely to form five other towns. An examination of the accompanying map will show these changes more clearly than any verbal or written description.

SAILS

 
The ship's white sails are all unfurl'd
  To the salt breath of the sea;
And never a ship in all the world
  Sails on with the wind more free.
 
 
For the white sails are white hopes of youth,
  The breath of the future blows;
But whither the vessel flies, in truth,
  There is no man that knows.
 

ELIZABETH. ¹

A ROMANCE OF COLONIAL DAYS

BY FRANCES C. SPARHAWK, Author of "A Lazy Man's Work."

CHAPTER I.
ON THE TIDE

One August evening of the year 1743 a boat lay as if anchored in the beautiful Piscataqua; her sail seemed swung only to show its whiteness in the bright moonlight. Every cord upon it hung lifeless, serving only the purpose of pictured lines, one silvered in the light, the dark shadow of the other traced in clear outlines on the sail. The swash of the waves against the side of the boat was too slight to sway it; the sheet dipped in the water and swung almost imperceptibly, while now and then a few straws floated against it and caught there. The moon, high in the heavens, gave pearly tints to the clouds that floated near it; the pines on the shore flung dark masses against the oaks and maples, or stood as a Rembrandt background for the boughs of the trees on which the moonlight fell, or for some ghostly procession of the white birch trunks. The water, in the shadows as dark and smooth as a Claude Lorraine glass, showed far off in the moonlight faint quivers of its surface here and there, as if the breeze so longed for were coming to the idle boat. But it was too far off, or too faint, for it spent itself before reaching the watchers there, although at the symptoms one of them rose with great show of solemnity, and making a trumpet of his hands, blew vigorously against the sail. But neither these movements nor the concerts of whistling were successful. At last another of the company leaning over the side of the boat busied himself with the sheet.

"I'll tell you the reason this boat don't go," he said, gravely, "the rope was all twisted. I've straightened it out, and taken off the straws."

A burst of laughter greeted him as he turned around his face, still grave, but his dark eyes, roving from one to another, their laughing expression hidden in the shadow, for the moon was behind him.

"What a useful member of society you are, Stephen," cried Katie Archdale. "I don't see how we could get on without you."

"I don't think we're getting on with him very fast," remarked a young gentleman sitting opposite Katie, pointing significantly at a curve of the shore that they had not drifted out of sight of in the last half hour.

"At least he has roused us," returned the girl, "for I half believe I was sleepy before."

"I believe it wholly," answered Stephen, taking his seat beside her again and looking down into her face teazingly with a cousinly freedom. But it was not altogether a cousinly regard from which Katie drew back after a moment, tossing her head coquettishly, and with a heightened color, glancing past at her friend beyond him, who sat dipping one hand in the water and looking dreamily at the shore. Stephen Archdale and his cousin Katie lived within a few miles of each other, and there had always been constant intercourse between their families. When boy and girl, Stephen, four years the elder, the two had played together, and they had grown up, as people said, like brother and sister. But of late it was rumored that the conduct of young Archdale was more loverlike than brotherly, and that, if Katie choose, the tie between them would one day be closer than that of cousinhood. The stranger who sat opposite Archdale, watching them both in silence, was of the same opinion. He was rather portly for his age, which could not have been over thirty, and as he sat in the boat he looked a taller man than he proved to be when on his feet. His dark-brown beard was full, his eyes, like Archdale's, were in shadow, for he had drawn down his hat well over his brows, while Stephen and young Waldo sat bareheaded in the August air.

"I wonder"—began Katie.

"A sturgeon!" cried Mrs. Eveleigh, the last member of the party.

But the sound proved the soft dip of the paddle in the water as a canoe came toward them going down the stream. Its Indian occupant when he shot by turned his gaze stealthily upon the gay party.

"How many more of your red savages are there coming to spy upon us?" And the speaker pushed back his hat a trifle, and looked up and down the river with an anxiety that he could not quite conceal.

"You've not been out here long enough," laughed Waldo. "There's no danger; the red savages are friendly with us just at this moment, and will remain so until we forget our rifles some day, or they learn that we're short of ammunition. Shoot 'em down without mercy whenever they come spying about—it's the only way. They're friendly so long as they are afraid, and not a moment longer. For instance, why should that fellow stop? He saw three men whom he knew were armed, besides that young man who's pretending to sail the boat—why don't you do it, Kit?" and Waldo laughed good-humoredly at the lad whose office had become a sinecure. "When you get used to them, Mr. Harwin," he added, "they will not make you shiver."

"Oh, they don't do that now," returned the other, indifferently, "but, the ladies"—

"As to the ladies," laughed Katie, "one of them is quite fond of the red-skins; the other," glancing at her friend, "has gone into a brown study; I don't believe she's heard or seen anything for the last half hour. Elizabeth, when you fish up any pearls there out of the water, share them with us, won't you?"

"No, she'll do no such thing," interposed Mistress Eveleigh; "she'll give them all to you." The tone was so serious that Elizabeth cried, indignantly,—

"Cousin Patience, how can you?"

"I suppose she likes to tease you," retorted Katie, still laughing, "and so do I. It's so funny to see you wake out of a revery and find yourself."

"And not find myself, you mean," returned Elizabeth, joining in with a ripple of merriment.

"Master Waldo knows all about the red-skins," said Archdale to his opposite neighbor; "he had the pleasure of shooting one last winter."

"Did you?" exclaimed Mrs. Eveleigh, while Harwin looked at the young fellow with a new interest. "How did it happen? Tell us about it."

"Yes, tell us about it," cried Katie, turning toward Waldo. But Elizabeth was still looking at Archdale. Suppose the shooting had been necessary, how could he speak of killing a human being as he would an animal, and then lean back and look at Mr. Waldo with a smile on his face?

Kenelm Waldo, on his part, gazed at the speaker in astonishment.

"'Pon honor," he cried, "I never killed a red-skin in my life, or even had a shot at one. Oh, I know now what he means; he is talking of a fox that I shot two miles from his house, one that you ought to have secured yourself, Mr. Archdale. This was the way I did it, the best way."

When he had finished his account, Katie said:—

"I have a plan for amusing ourselves. Let us make every one tell a story, and we'll lay forfeits on the person that doesn't give us an interesting one. Mistress Eveleigh, please begin."

"That is rather arbitrary, Mistress Katie, with no warning," returned that lady, smiling. "But since we've been talking about the Indians, I will tell you something that my mother did once before she was married, while she was living down on the Cape."

"What a pity, Katie, you did not keep Mistress Eveleigh until the last," cried Archdale; "I know she will have the best story of us all."

"You have too high estimation of my powers," returned Mrs. Eveleigh, flattered; "but if I do well," she added, "it must be remembered that none of you have had forty-five years in which to find one."

The story, like a thousand others of that time, was of the presence of mind and courage of one of the early settlers of America, and was listened to with the attention it deserved. All, with one exception, were outspoken in admiration of its heroine.

"You say nothing, Mistress Royal," said Waldo; "but it may be you've heard it before, since you and Mistress Eveleigh are in the same house."

"Yes," she answered, "I have heard it before." She moved her head quickly as she spoke, and as the moonlight struck her face, Archdale fancied that he saw a moist brightness in her eyes. But certainly no tear fell, and when the next moment Katie declared it Elizabeth's turn for a story, she told some trifling anecdote that had in it neither sentiment nor heroism. It was laughable though, and was about to receive its deserts of praise when at Archdale's first word Elizabeth cried, eagerly:—

"Don't, please. It was not worth telling; only I could remember nothing else."

At this entreaty Harwin stared at her, and his lip curled disdainfully under the hand that partially covered his face. "Have you so much wealth of fascination, young lady," his thoughts ran, "that you can afford to scatter your coins in this way? I rather think not." His eyes rested upon her for a moment as she sat looking at Katie Archdale, and the scorn of his mouth deepened. "Admiration of one woman for another," he commented. "Pshaw! the girl lavishes everything; she will soon be bankrupt. She is drinking in the intoxication of Katie's beauty just as—no, not like me, of course. If ever there could be excuse for such a thing it would be here, for Katie is bewitching, she is perfect; affectionate, too, but with no nonsense about her. She reserves her admiration for—for whom does she reserve it? For the proud young nabob beside her, or for the good-humored little coxcomb over here? It shall be for neither; it shall be for me. I, too, can be fascinating when I take the trouble. Fair lady, I have plans for you."

"Master Harwin," cried the girl's clear voice, interrupting his thoughts, "why don't you begin? We're waiting for you."

"Pardon me," he answered, "I was not aware of it. Well, since you are inexorable, I'll try. I will not attempt anything in this New World, which you all know so much more about than I do, for then there'd be every chance of my being heavily fined. But if you want a story of Old England, perhaps on that ground I can barely escape my forfeit."

"We shall be delighted," said Miss Royal, courteously, for Katie, to whom she saw that he was speaking, was at the moment claimed by Archdale; he was saying something to her in a low voice, and she gave him willing attention.

Only a flash in the narrator's eyes as he began showed that he noticed this.

CHAPTER II.
OPPORTUNITY

"Once upon a time, then," he said, "in Scotland, no matter in what part, there dwelt two disconsolate people. They ought to have been very happy, for they were lovers, but, as you may have noticed, lovers are happy only under the condition that love runs smooth, and here it was extremely rough. The suitor was of ancient family and poor, the lady was charming, and wilful—and an heiress? You are all waiting to hear me say that—no, she was poor, too. And so you see that a doubling of impecuniosity was quite impossible, for poverty rolls up fast in a geometrical progression. But the lovers had no such scruples. It's a romantic story enough if I could tell it to you in detail."

"And why not?" cried Katie, whose interest was making him wish that were possible.

"I should have to go back for generations, and tell you of family feuds as old as the families themselves, a Montague and Capulet state of affairs, although each family had so much respect for the golden amenities of life that its possession by the other would have softened the asperity of feeling. But each was poor,—poor, I mean, for people in that station.

"The lady, as I said, was a beauty; the gentleman had extra will enough when it was roused to make up for the absence of beauty, although, indeed, the lady was not lacking in that quality either, and so, opposition made them only more determined to have their own way. It was impossible to run away,—she was too well guarded; defiance was the only thing, and I must confess that from what I knew of them both, I think they enjoyed it. The Capulets, as I will call them, were dissenters, the Montagues belonged to the Established Church. Now, the Capulets were very zealous, and at this time a famous itinerant preacher came into their neighborhood. They, being the greatest people in the place, invited him to stay at their house during his visit. He often preached in the open air. One day, at the end of one of those eloquent discourses, a young man in countryman's dress came up and asked him to marry himself and a young woman whom he had been waiting upon a long time, but who had refused to be married unless this very preacher could perform the ceremony. 'She said it would be a blessed wedlock of your joining,' pursued the young fellow. The preacher, although he was a great man, was only human,—it is well, I suppose, that we never outgrow our humanity,—and felt flattered by the young girl's belief in his sanctity. He proposed the next day for the ceremony, and was arranging to marry the rustic couple on the lawn before the house of his host when the young man interrupted him by stating that it must be gone through with immediately, for his lady-love was so shy that it was with difficulty she had been persuaded to come to-night, and she would never consent if he gave her all that time to think the matter over in, nor would she be willing to come up on the lawn with the great people. She was at hand with one of her friends; everything was prepared; would he marry them then? At that moment? The bewildered minister looked up the road before him, where the carriage of the Capulets was disappearing at the top of the hill; he had been told that the daughter would remain with him, and that the carriage would return as soon as Mamma Capulet had made inquiries about a cottager who was ill; for his congregation had been crowding about him with questions and tearful confessions of sins, and the good Capulets, who had the opportunity to make their confessions in private, were in haste to be gone. Where was his fair companion? He looked about him; he had lost sight of her in the throng. But in a few moments she came forward, accompanying the bride, who the groom explained was a protégée of hers. Miss Capulet had drawn down her veil, and in answer to this statement nodded to the reverend gentleman and murmured an assent. The bride's face, too, was hidden by her bonnet and by her shyness, which prevented her from once looking up. The name of the groom lingered with surprise on the minister's lips, for it was not a clodhopper's name, I assure you; but he had heard nothing of the love affair. When he came to the bride's name, however, he did pause, for it was that of the Capulet. 'How is this?' he asked. 'How has she the same name as you, my child?' Before the veiled lady could answer, the groom informed him that the bride's family, being old retainers of the other, had the same last name, as it was in Scottish clans, and that the bride herself, born on the same day as the young lady at the great house, had received also the same Christian name, which explained her being under Miss Capulet's protection. The good man was conscious that, though his piety was eminent, his knowledge of all genealogy but Bible was deficient, and when both women softly assented to this statement, his air of perplexity gave place to the manner of a man who understands the business of the hour. He was in a hurry, and in an incredibly short time the two were one. 'Is it all over?' asked the groom. 'Are we securely married?' 'You are joined in the holy bonds of matrimony until death do you part,' returned the clergyman, solemnly, beginning to add his blessing. But this died half-uttered on his lips, for the bride slowly raised her head, threw back her bonnet, and the haughty face and laughing eyes of the Capulet were before him. 'Bear witness,' she said, her shyness completely gone, 'that I'm this gentleman's wife.' 'You are, indeed,' he stammered. 'But how—why—who is this?' and he reached out a trembling hand toward the veiled lady. 'My maid,' returned the bride; 'she came here like one of the cottagers, and we exchanged gowns while you were talking to the people.' 'I hope, I sincerely hope, it's all right,' returned the poor man; 'but if I had known, I would have spoken to your honored parent, first.' 'Yes, I'm sure of that,' she laughed, 'and then we should not have been so happy.' At the moment a post-chaise drove up, into which the bridal pair and the servant made haste to get. 'Pardon me that I cannot accompany you home,' laughed the lady, leaning out to give the minister her hand in farewell. 'You cannot know how grateful to you we are. I shall never be able to reward you; I can only give you my thanks and prayers—and be sure to tell them at home how firmly you have married us.' The chaise drove off, and the good man was left alone. He felt inclined to think that he had been dreaming, until he looked down and saw in his hand a purse of gold pieces that the groom had slipped into it, whispering, 'If you refuse for yourself, be my almoner and give it to the poor.' Before the preacher had recovered his wits the carriage of the Capulets reappeared. The lovers, however, did not re-appear for two years, and by that time Montague had unexpectedly fallen heir to a fortune and a title, and was received with open arms by the new relatives. In our days it's always the one who was not the prodigal who has the fatted calf killed for him."

"I'm afraid the poor minister was not very welcome when he had told his story," said Elizabeth.

"Clever enough, on my word," cried Archdale.

"Not quite to your liking, I fancy, though," answered Harwin.

"Do you think he would have had the wedding indoors, in the teeth of everybody?" laughed Katie.

Harwin assented, adding that he felt convinced that Master Archdale would have insisted upon all the accompaniments of a grand wedding at any cost.

"Yes, I shall have that when my time comes," returned Stephen, looking straight before him a trifle haughtily. But Harwin noticed that directly his eyes fell in passing back to their watching of the shore, and that one sweeping glance was given to Katie.

"But can people be married in such an instant?" asked Waldo. "I always thought it was a work of time—rather a formidable piece of business."

"Oh! when you come to two or three ministers of the Church of England, and the benedictions, and all that, so it is," said Harwin; "but the real business part is an affair of—I was going to say less than a minute." He sat silent after this, with his head bent, then, lifting it suddenly, before anybody had spoken, he fixed his glance, with a musing expression, upon Waldo. "I was wondering if I could remember the formula," he said; "I think I can. Mistress Royal, allow Master Archdale to take your hand a moment, if you please."

Elizabeth made no responsive movement, and Archdale, for an instant, failed to turn toward her. He had been looking at Katie while Harwin was speaking; but Katie drew back, hastily.

"Oh, do, Elizabeth!" she cried. "I want to see what it is like; do try with Stephen, and let us hear." As she spoke, Archdale turned toward Elizabeth, courteously.

"Come, Mistress Royal," he said, as Harwin was explaining that he had asked her because she happened to be on the proper side for a bride, "let us make an effective tableau for the amusement of these mariners, who, since they are becalmed themselves, persist in wanting something going on."

Elizabeth had heard the entreaty in Katie's light words. She knew that if she herself had cared for Mr. Archdale she could never have jested at marrying him. It made her all the more sure that Katie did care, because, otherwise, the girl would have found it great fun to rouse a little jealousy in the two admirers opposite, watching every movement. She yielded her hand to the light clasp that held it, and listened with less interest than the others to Mr. Harwin's distinct and rapid words until he came to the sentence, "I pronounce you man and wife." Then she shivered, and he had scarcely finished the adjuration that follows—"What God hath joined together let not man put asunder," when she snatched her hand away.

"It is too solemn," she cried, "it is too much; we ought not to have jested so."

Harwin laughed.

"Pardon me if I've made you uncomfortable," he said; "but you will forget it in five minutes, and even for that time you must blame Master Waldo's curiosity."

"And mine," added Katie, at which young Waldo gave her a grateful glance. Then he joined with her in breaking the hush that had fallen on the others. "Stephen," she said, "now for your story. Do you think you are coming off scot-free?"

"I thought we had performed our parts," he said, turning to Elizabeth with a smile.

"Mistress Royal has already told her story," cried Waldo, "There's no escape for you."

"Escape would be difficult now, I confess."

"So begin."

He began obediently, but fortune was kinder than he had expected, for he had not fairly started when Kit cried out,—

"A breeze! Here it comes. Heads to larboard!" And down went Archdale's and those of the two ladies with him as the sail was shifted and the boat began to skim the water before the breeze which freshened every minute. Soon they had gained the cove where they were to land, and Archdale's story was never finished.