National Republican., 1881-09-10
EASTERN RAMBLES
sY THE SEASIDE AND IN THE GLEN.
Along the Coast Of Massachusetts-Thc Retreat Of
Artists and Notwithstanding Scenes
An Old dGrMe.Yard-Quaint Epi.
taphs-Queer Poetry.
spccInl corrosrondcncc Of rnr nrrrn1lcAN.

Special Correspondence of THE REPUBLICAN.
FRANcEsTowN, N. H., Sept. G-Alasl the
summer is gone, and all that remains to me is the
tender recollection Of departed days. First there
Is n vision Of Kettle Cove aud the Cape Ann coast,
hlled with delicious boating experiences and
enormous catches of finackorel with bold cliffs and
warm stretches ofsand beach, with rare old pine
woods and daisy fields, musical with birds and
bright with butterflies. lts retreat ofartlsts and
litterati, for here the lamented Hunt located his
quaint studio and disciples Of the great genuss
come, as though his spirit yet haunts these artistic
shades-a spot familiar TO James Freeman Clarke,
Edward Everett Hale, w. d. Howclls, and Louisa
Alcott, beside host of lesser lights; for here
mingio Boston culture" land shoddy) aud repre-
scntatives OF the New World from Maine TO Oregon.
BEAUTIFUL MAGNOLIA,
the fairest dream ofall. how we love thee And
then the scene changes to the old town of Konno.
bunkport and the Maine coast, where the sum
mer bonrdcr may enjoy either hotel life or the de-
lights OF the farm house, and dream away the
summer In sleepy, hollow kind of existence.
Once famous place for ship. building only the
ghost OF the industry now remains. At present
there Is single 1,s00.ton vessel the stocks to
show the idler the wonderful combination of iron
and oak and pine entering into the construction
ofa wooden ship. At one time a port" Of con-
siderable Importance n fair proportion Of the ap-
preparation for rivers and harbors Is annually
spent here In digging son mud despite there aro
dangerous rocks almost In mid channel. Then too
Uncle Sam still supports ali official In the old brick
custom house on Main street. besides the official
OF the post-oilcc department, who holds forth
IN THE VILLAGE GROCERY
store, further down toward the water How mem.
ory carries me back rugged pasture, filled with
gray ledges and tangled jumpers, with delicious
blueberries and the red "ivy-plums" (wlnter-
greon) that hide so ooyly in the grass and moss.
Dark pointed pines rise up as background, and
through the vstas and beyond stretches the blue
ocean. Then once more the scene shifts--the
ocean is but memory, and the New Hampshire
hills loom up upon every side as one rumbles along
upon the top ofa four horse Concord stage" AT
length the smart village is reached, and we find
| ourselves in anew atmosphere. We are now in
the midst
or rrEGts OF wAvINd CORN
and grain, green meadows, and thrifty apple Or
chords, or dense forests Of pine and birch. Trout
streams abound, and silvery little lakes glisen
| among the hills. We no longer hear the music of
the sea at night, but In It's stead there Is the rustic
of leaves and the croaking of frogs. And my fancy
runs something MS follows;
When the pretty little bullfrog Is not screaming,
Or otherwise indulging in his tune
He loves TO sit upon the bank a.dreamng,
And wihking with his goggles at the moon.
When his white and tender limbs are not reclining,
,l ~ the reedy, stegnant pool he loveth most,
| Win wAtercrCs5cs green and crisp u.twlnlng
| love TO see them on hot buttefed toast.
| Then look at the moon, and II reminds me of a
| huge restaurant cheek or the head of Hayerly's
big base drum, with It's legend 40" Gust what
Harvey charges to cent. This Is II very quiet
corner of the world, and board ranges from SO to
50 II week, dependent upon whether you are
student Of the village academy or u summer
bourdcr. Beefstcak has now grown to be u recol-
lection tender by contrast with the article bearing
the n0mo here for the country butcher cuts 1t any
where between the heels aud the horns at eighteen
cents pound, THE "hOtcl" is primitive, the
hostess kindly tho pert walters (vlllage girls ex-
| asperating in their inattemtion and imprudont
| friyolty and some of the boarders-well what can
| you expect at So week? September came
in broiling, The sun has been dimmed for
three days by the smoke of forest fires and the at
mosphere sitting. What II day was the LIST for
rambling in the church, yard Only the heat was
| too too utterly suggestive
YET WE EA,IBLED ASD 1T PAID
well In the way of eptaphs,a few of which are ap-
pended, 1t was upon the occasion of II ride to the
| old home of our ancestor, tho quiet sleepy, ven-
epble village of New Boston. 1t was rather ap.
| palling TO view ones surname upon nearly every
other tombstone, aud TO come suddenly upon the
| grave of gteat.grandpaTent that fit into the
Revolution 'with.dlkyptrelNtiycsy lying nll around
| you. Fortunately tioy were all given sensible
epitaphs; but isn't this killing" on Miss Jones
| lnlld lell tue lovely, blooming daughter
| by the rcNcngui,h hand-a malicious nenry,
| WHEN on her way to school lie met her,
| Ana with u six sclEcOckcd pistol shot her
Was ita Smith Il Wesson? Poor Henry lies in
| the same church. -yprd, n victim of the same six
sclf-cookcd." lie hus no epituph; but another's
might have been given him, which runs thusly:
lie was majors only sori-
II was for love lac was undOne.
Short and sweet Ike adonkey's gallop, isn't It?
On another stone the human eye was boldly
chiscled, two enormous tears frozen into ono
corner, while the legend above invited the be.
| holder to-
Judge how we loved her!
There were many Others, but this one carved on
an old slate stone in the Francestown graveyard
is unique
| AillIcton sore long time she bore,
| physicians were IN vain;
gill God did ease and death did seize
| Gone to rise Ggaln
This must be the inscription that saw bur.
lcsqucd in ancwspnper Of twenty years or more
ago, us follows:
Collisions four or Ave she bore,
Tue signals were In vain;
Grown old aud rustcd, her bller busted,
And smashed the excursion train.
lam tired, If the reader is not besides, as W {
leave town tomorrow, there Is packing to do, and
Titus Andronicus aud "thc artist" are waiting fol
1t TO begin. GRID.