The Literary echo, and Pawcatuck advertiser. [volume] (Westerly, R.I.) 1851-1854, 1853-07-07

Quakers-that was before your remem
brance."
"Ah," replied the old man, tina
was in the old times when persecution
was ripe on this continent, and when nj
one could open his lips except to speal
as the General Court directed. | wa
not living then; it was long before m,
day but there was, in the days of my
youth, an old woman-a Quakeress-b,
the name of Ruth Bartlett, who remem
bered those times. | once visited he
with my father, and she gave us some
account Of the times Of persecution, anC
her escape with her parents toNantucket
But that was long, long ago"
You have really seen and couverseC
with a person who suffered persecution
under the Pilgrim Fathers, you say ="
" remember her as we'll as # it was
yesterday" was the answer of the old
patriarch, and perhaps better, for my
memory is rather short in respect to late
events | could give her narrative in
her own words, though they might seem
strange to your ears, as learning is very
much thought of in Boston, in these
days, and people don't talk now as they
did when Ruth got her education"
All the better - cried the Bosto-
man 4" want her words and manner
as nearly as you can recollect."
Well, then," said the patriarch,
you must know that Ruth was hun
dred years Of age when We visited her.
| was a mere chump of boy, but l
took in all she said, with big eyes, you
may depend, and l remember it, too.
She lived in little wooden house up by
Eunice Mitchell's lane, where it leads
to the school-house, but there was no
Eunice Mitchell there. l remember
when Eunice was born, and fine black
eyed girl she was, too. Her name was
Gardner and her mother is living now.
Eunice married rich, to David Mitchell,
the one died week before last, and was
buried in Friends burying-ground. But
where am going to- You want to
hear about the prosecutions. Well,
then Ruth Bartlett lived in a little
wooden house, painted yellow, with tar
on the roof to keep it from leaking
She was dried up almost to an anatomy,
and looked as if the wind would blow
her away; but she kept her senses to
the last, and knit good stocking the
week she died.
" When we called at her house, she
was making something with milk in
pewter porringer on the fire. All her
dishes were made of pewter except a
large wooden plate, on which cherry
pudding was smoking when we entered
the house. She sat down in her high
backed chair, and fell to knitting,
as if she couldn't talk unless her needles
were going My father began to ask
about the old times, and she answered
by speaking of something that happened
forty years before on that island.
mot that" said my father! "II
want an account of the doings in Boston
when you were girl"
Anon J" says she.
I" Boston doings in the days of Gov.
Endicott," said my father in her ear.
"Ah' well-a-day !" said she drop
ping her work in her lap, and looking
straight forward, as if she saw something
in the air. "Thee is thinking of the
days of old bloody Boston. was girl
then. Thee has read all about it, and
more than l can tell thee, for 1 saw
only small part of it,"
I" But would rather hear it from
your own lips" said my father, than to
read it in book"
"Thee knows that in England they
put John Bunyan in Bedford Jail. He
lay there long time" said Ruth, taking
up her work and making the needles
fly.
"Oh, yes" said my father, CT knew
all that, but he was not Quaker"
|" He was worthy" said Ruth, nod
ding her head emphatically "and we
all greeted [wept when we heard of it.
But some Of us we're treated worse than
that, thee knows; but sore judgment
fell upon the bloody men Afterwards,