The daily morning journal and courier., 1894-09-01

Mayhew and his son Thomas, eolohlnts of Massachusetts. became proprletofs Of the island. settling there few years later The deeds given them mem toned their acquisition as "capawoek' otherwise Martha's Nineyard' TO ms daughter Martha Mf Mayhew gave piece of land on which were many vines and it has been thought that from Mar tha's possession, known as her vine yard, the name became aI last the ap' pelatlon of the entire island but the fact that it is so called m the two deeds seems to show that II had been named for some other Martha al an earlier date-how much earlier II might be difficult to ascertain.
 Al the time of Thomas Mayhews purchase lands bordering upon Nlnc- yard Sound were under the control or New York. In the correspondence pe- tween the governor of New York ana Governor Phipps of Massachusetts while the matter vt Jurisdiction was n disputed point. the island Is called Mar tin's Vineyard. from one Martin PrinG' who is said to have landed there m l603, returning 10 England with h's party in the same year. Doubtless ne thought the grapes were sour
 Mir. Mayhcw's letters. before and af- ter receiving his commission as gorer' nor of the island. mention it by the fa- miliar name, but when difficulties arose and he wrote protest to Governor Andros upon the matter of his title being disputed. the document began: Upon Martins Nynyard this l2th April, l675." This being very import ant paper. it Is to bc supposed that nc would endcavor to bc as accurate as possible. giving the island the name that had the advantage of priority and of use In the correspondence already mentioned.
 But why should Martin Pring's claim be revived at this late day? We are well content with Martha. be she Mar tha Mayhew or another. And 1T we are to go back to ancient history why do We not insist upon the island being called Ericson's Vineyard. or Tyrker's, If that was the name of the man who discoV- cred the grapes and Capered and pranc- cd and shouted in q transport of de- light? To be sure. this was on the mainland. but 1t comes near enough. Or, when later, Thoriin, the Icelander. came to Vinland. having his wife, Gud- ride, and five other women in his large company, how do We know that there was not q Martha among them? It Is said that this party remained about three years and returned home with a large cargo of raisins and other con- l e, nf ,,rhioh n, \. adventurers to Vinland. And why should not some of these raisins have been gathered and dried say at Cottage City, by the "Working Marthas" of that enterprising company? This boom- ing of Martin Firing may be token of old fogysm lingering in progressive time It Is desperate attempt to as- sert the supremacy of man when every one knows that woman's star Is in the ascendant and whizzing rapidly. Mar tin landed, tasted perhaps of sour grapes. whereby. his followers teeth were set on edge, and sailed away again without a raisin to show for the trip. Faint-hearted, unappreciative Martin Pring. the Vineyard will have none of you, though the antiquarians fain would bolster up an ill-based plea for the re- vival of your name. But patient, hard working, domestic Martha, cumbered with much serving, doubtless, careful and troubled about many things, but always efficient and reliable, the Vine yard shall be yours while your later-day sisters have a tongue left to argue or a pen left to scribble for your cause.
 MY MOTHER.
 Some one love comes back to me With every gentle face l see;
 Beneath each wave of soft gray hair | seem to see my mother there. With every kindly glance and word It seems as if must have heard | Her speak, and felt her tender gaze With all the ovo of olden days. | And am moved to take her hand | And tell her, now understand
 How tired she grew beneath the strain | Of feeling every loved ones pain. | No further burdens could she bear;
 The promise of that land more fair, | Alone could tempt her from her child,
 And now if I could keep her here, | No sacrifice could be too dear,
 No tempered winds for her too mild.
 Then would smooth and kiss her face | And by her side take my old place | And sob my years and cares away.
 The tears have so long repressed
 Would lose their ache upon her breast; | think if l could feel her touch Once more, it would not matter much
 How sunny or how dark the day. Hove each mother that see
 That brings my own so near to me; l For though never more may frame Upon my lips hat hallowed namo To any who will draw me near
 And answer me with warm caress- | As long as there are mothers here,
 No child can be quite moiherless.
 Mary A. Mason.