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Illustrations: The Pulpit; The Old West Church: Jonathan Mayhew; Charles Lowell; A Bit of the Gallery; Interior of the West Church; Cyrus A. Bartol.

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Illustrations: Mrs. E. Florence Barker; Mrs. Kate B. Sherwood; Mrs. Sarah E. Fuller; Mrs. Elizabeth
D'Arcy Kinne; Mrs. Emma Stark Hampton; Mrs. Charity Rusk Craig; Mrs. Annie Wittenmyer.

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Illustrations, by Margaret McD. Pullman: "The beautiful town that is seated by the sea"; "I can see the shadowy lines of its trees"; "I remember the black wharves and the slips"; "I remember the bulwarks by the shore"; "Their graves overlooking the tranquil bay"; "I can see the breezy dome of groves"; "The trees that o'ershadow each well-known street"; "And Deering's woods are fresh and fair."

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T

O the traveller who to-day passes through the

heart of our commonwealth, the little village of Harvard, embosomed among hills and valleys, presents very much the appearance that it would have presented had he visited it a century ago. Lying off from any great thoroughfare, away from the influences which invariably attend large manufacturing districts and railway centres, it has retained in a remarkable degree its early simplicity. The forests have indeed been more extensively cleared, broader fields have been subjected to cultivation, more numerous and more pretentious houses have been built, and better highways render communication more easy. The village green, crossed by its numerous roads and well shaded by its trees, now receives more care than in former years. The adjacent graveyard, formerly neglected and forgotten, where for generations the alder and the bramble have held undisputed control, and the long, withered grass has swayed and rustled to the wintry blasts, is now under the subjection of loving hands. All else is little changed. The midsummer silence of the place remains unbroken, save by the occasional blows upon the blacksmith's anvil, by the shouts of boys let loose from school, by the church bell as it rings out the passing hours, or by the farmer's wagon as it plods along and marks its course by an enveloping cloud of stifling dust. Its lovely lake still glitters in the noonday sun; the "Greate Wachusett " lords it over the surrounding country, and the quiet "Nashaway" steals along through its verdant meadows, as of yore.

In the early settlement of the town, communication with the metropolis, which is now comparatively easy, was difficult and tedious. It was not until a decade after the Declaration of Independence that the post-road leading to Number Four and Crown Point passed through it. A stage-coach, leaving Boston once or twice a week, at an early hour of the morning, after climbing many a long hill, landed its passengers at the village inn shortly after meridian. This resort then, as in latter years, shared with the store the honor of being the centre of all political and social discussions.

A quaint old writer of the last century, Rev. Peter Whitney, in speaking of this village, says: "It was called Harvard to bear up the name of that excellent and worthy minister of Charlestown, the Rev. John Harvard, who laid the foundation of Harvard University in Cambridge. The town is very hilly and uneven, the land is rough and hard to subdue, but the soil is warm and strong, rich and fertile. It proCopyright, 1890, by New England Magazine Company, Boston. All rights reserved.

duces good crops of grain of all kinds. And as the lands are excellent for orcharding, many farmers pay particular attention to raising all kinds of fruit, which they have in plenty and of the best quality. Harvard is like other hilly, rocky places, not dry but moist land and well-watered indeed by numerous springs and rivulets running about among the hills, and which cause them to rejoice on every side. Nashaway River flows along the confines of Harvard for upwards of six miles. This river, an humble imitator of the Nile, overflows its banks at certain seasons and greatly fertilises the bordering lands. . . . The inhabitants are chiefly farmers who are frugal and industrious, and some are become wealthy. This town discovers great solicitude for the good education of its children."

No one visiting this charming village previous to the August of 1855 could have failed to observe, just within its southern limits, two avenues of stately elms, the one leading from the burial-ground on the

object of interest in the immediate region about, but was the property as well as the home for more than half a century of the subject of our paper, it merits more than a passing notice.

Tradition dates its erection in 1733. It was erected by the first settled minister of Harvard, Rev. John Seccomb, the author of the witty poem, Father Abbey's Will. According to a published letter from the second minister, the avenues of trees were planted at the same time. Tradition also says that the father-in-law of Mr. Seccomb, Rev. William Williams of Weston, Mass., offered to furnish as large a house as the son would build. However this may be, excellent taste directed its design; and although constructed of wood and almost entirely without external ornamentation, its proportions and outline were extremely pleasing and entirely in harmony with its surroundings. There was that air of home comfort, and that indescribable hospitable aspect about it, which was at once recognized by the most careless observer,

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The little village of Harvard presents very much the appearance that it presented a century ago." northern boundary of a large estate, and the other from the public road on the eastern. These, meeting at a right angle, completely enveloped in their shadows a large gambrel-roofed house. As this old mansion was not only in itself the chief

conditions which can alone be imparted by the mellowing hand of time, and which no art can imitate. At all seasons, upon whatever side might be the approach, the smoke from its generous chimneys could be seen curling above the tree tops, and

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