THE OLD BOSTON POST-ROAD.

thing about in a restful calm. Even the hum of bees, as on lazy wing they flew from flower to flower, seemed softer and slower than usual, and the chirping birds to sing in lower tones. A day of rest, indeed; and to lie under the shade of the gnarled old apple-tree, listening to the soft winds moving gently through its leaves, and watching the sun and shadow shift over the face of the old building, was a pleasure having in it an element other than of mere pagan sensuousness, let us hope. It was not work the artist did in catching that little bit of Sunday's holy calm to go along with his more earthy things.

The little town of Rye has its historian in the person of the Rev. Dr. Baird, pastor of the Presbyterian church there, who for many years employed his leisure in collecting facts, and compiling his remarkably thorough and interesting history of a town which was of no little importance in the early days before and during the Revolution. Nothing can afford one a more vivid idea of these early times than such bits of local records as occur now and again in Dr. Baird's book. They have all the realism of photographs, and are of great value alike to the historian and novelist. For example, let us look

at the wardrobe of Mr. Samuel Hoit, of Rye, as it was recorded in 1684: "One pair of serge trowsers, one pair of linen trowsers; one ould serge coat, lined, and one kersye coat." This wardrobe of Mr. Hoit's would no doubt have been considered in those days quite complete, if not elaborate. "In 1704 the post was carried by a messenger provided with a spare horse, a horn, and good portmantles, and the only post on all this continent was that which went east from New York so far as Boston, and west to Philadelphia." Our illustration represents an era of greater splendor.

Here, also, is a suggestive bit from the New York Mercury, October 27, 1760: "Died at Stratford, of a fever, Deacon Thomas Peet, in the sixty-second year of his age. He was employed as a post-rider between New York and Saybrook for the last thirty-two years of his life, in which station he gave general satisfaction."

There was a noted tavern in Rye, still standing, and now known as the Penfield House, kept as early as 1770 by Dr. Ebenezer Haviland, who, by-the-way, was one of the first of the not numerous citizens of Rye who embraced the cause of the Colonies; and he died in the service of his country during the war. Amongst the most curious things recorded of this tavern, in the records of the Board of Supervisors, occurs the following: "To Doct. Ebenezar Haveland, for dining the Supervizors and liqure, £1 11s. 4d." Not very expensive supervisors possibly, although there is no mention made as to how many dined on that occasion, but still showing the custom of official dining and liquor

ing horse neck, six miles distant from Rye, the road through which is hilly and immensely stony, and trying to wheels and carriages, we breakfasted at Stamford, which is six miles further, at one Webb's -a tolerable good house, but not equal in appearance and reality to Mrs. Haviland's."

"Half a century ago," writes Dr. Baird, "the old square house on the post-road at Rye was the centre of life and intelligence for the whole neighborhood; such it had been for at least as many years. Old inhabitants still speak of the time when

seph Norton, was no doubt one of the most interesting, as it certainly was the most picturesque, feature of the time of which we have record. This small community in the midst of a wilderness inhabited by savages, with no settlement of white men nearer than Greenwich, had to look well to its means of defense, and the "Trayne Band" is described as consisting of all male persons between the ages of sixteen and sixty years. "The men were armed with pikes, muskets, and swords. The muskets had matchlocks or firelocks, and to each there was a pair of 'bandoleers,' or pouch

es for bullets and powder, and a stick for | a rest." The pikes were poles with spears on the end, and were fourteen feet long. "Courslets were worn with coats quilted with cotton, and there was no uniformity of dress." On the training-days persons who had been guilty of offenses against the law were exposed in the stocks, and we may imagine how severe a punishment it was to those whose sensitiveness had not entirely escaped them through repeated offenses to be thus exposed in the face of all the people who had gathered to witness the evolutions of their brave citizen soldiery. It was as motley a company, possibly, as Sir John Falstaff's ragged followers could have made, but a different one withal. Each and every member of this "Trayne Band" of Rye felt, no doubt, that the safety of the community rested upon his shoulders, and carried himself, in consequence, with all becoming dignity.

Brave and sturdy men they were, and pious, without being fanatical, as were their neighbors and relatives just over in Greenwich. There is no such thing recorded in the annals of Rye as the burning of a witch, or even the cropping of the ears of a Quaker. For nearly two hundred years the sturdy members of Joseph

Norton's "Trayne Band" have been gathered to their fathers; the forest from which they laboriously won some little land has faded away before their descendants, and with it have gone the vague terrors with which it was invested. The tedious and perilous journey along the Westchester path to New York is now but an hour's pleasant ride, and Rye Pond, remote enough from the little settlement then, will possibly soon be turned into a source of water supply for the city.

About 1744, Peter Jay, a prosperous merchant, having retired from business in the prime of life, looking for some quiet place to pass his remaining days in ease, purchased a large estate in Rye, and settled his family there, while his son John-who was to become an illustrious personage in the early history of the republic-was still a child. Here the future Chief Justice passed a part of his youth, going from home to a school, and to King's College in New York when he was fourteen years of age. The estate at Bedford, where the present John Jay resides, passed into the possession of the Jays through the marriage of Mr. Peter Jay into the family of the Van Cortlandts, and afterward became the residence of Governor Jay. Dr. Jay, a grandson of the Governor, now lives on the estate at Rye-a beautiful place, with green meadows sloping from the back of the mansion down to the broad waters of the Sound. The "ha-ha" fences, being sunken stone walls, offer no impediment to the view, and only a stately elm here and there breaks the smooth sweep of

The wife of the testy old Governor was a Bayard, daughter of a learned and distinguished Huguenot, and it is through this family, of which Mrs. Van Rensselaer is a member, that the portraits have been preserved-from the hands of the "restorer" as well as from all other disasters-and

ated a sense of republican simplicity. A portrait of the Chief Justice, the joint production of Gilbert Stuart and that stately old painter and patriot Colonel Trumbull, is of much interest even in a purely artistic sense, as it is one of the most thoroughly painted and best of all the heads of Stuart within the writer's knowledge. It is not, however, at all comparable in this respect to a three-quarter length of an old lady-a Van Cortlandt-painted in Holland in 1625, a work which, while its author is unknown, is still of amazing quality, and well worth going a long way to see. There are two portraits in the country house of Mrs. Van Rensselaer on Manursing Island. They are portraits of Peter Stuyvesant and his wife, painted by Vandyck, and have never before been engraved. They are more vigorous in characterization than many of the later por

through the courtesy of this lady we are enabled to lay before our readers the only well-authenticated portrait there is of the last Governor of New Amsterdam. These portraits are strong and subtle examples of characterization.

Almost every neighborhood, perhaps, has amongst its oldest inhabitants some one remarkable for a knowledge of local traditions, and Rye certainly has a most exceptional citizen of this kind in the person of Mr. Abe Merritt, or, as he is familiarly known (for reasons which he himself will explain), "Bungy Abe." This ancient citizen seemed never so happy as when pouring forth his most remarkable knowledge of things pertaining to the history of Rye and around there-a knowledge which I am sure the reader will not quarrel with us for giving just as it was related by the good citizen aforesaid.

66

II.

Yes, he was a sort of relative of my for'-parents: he was a bad man, Shubael Merritt, he was. No, he was neither a Cow-boy nor a Break-o'-day Man. He jist sort o' robbed and killed onto his own account. Now he went one day with his gang, Shubael did, to my grandfather's house, and he wanted some shoe-buckles and things as my grandfather had. Now my grandfather he was into the American army, and was a true pat-riott. Well, as I was a-sayin', Shubael Merritt he say to my grandfather-as was called Bungy Joe on account of havin' invented a bunghole-he say that he want them shoebuckles, and so he tied the ole man's legs together and let him down into the well, so as he could remember whar they was, and then he'd draw him up, Shubael Merritt would, and ask him if he could remember better, so as the ole man was nigh about drowned afore he could make up his mind to tell Shubael whar the things was. Then thar was John Crummell, as was a true pat-riott into the Revolution, although bein' a Quaker as wouldn't fight. Shubael came a-near burnin' of him to death with a red-hot shovel on account of John Crummell not tellin' him whar his money was.

"Now the Crummells was considerable people, they was; they was descended from John Crummell, as was, I have hearn tell, the brother of Oliver, although not

As

bein' a Puritan. John Crummell, the one as Shubael Merritt and his gang burnt, as I was a-sayin', was a true pat-riott, and Gineral Washington and Lafayette they took breakfast with him in the old house as stands jist as you turn to go into Rye Pond, and is the Avery house now. they was a-breakfastin' thar, I have hearn my for'-parents say, young John Crummell, as was a boy then, he poked up the bees, as flew out and lit onto Gineral Washington's and Lafayette's critters, as was tied to the fence, and they do say as they run about three mile afore they was caught. Yes, Shubael was about the worst man as was about here in the Revolution, as is a-sayin' of a good deal, seein' as how a-most of 'em was Cow-boys and Breako'-day Men, as some calls Skinners. He robbed his own brother, as was Neamiah Merritt. Neamiah, he bein' a Tory, like most of 'em as was Tories, went to Nova Scotia after the war was over, and his son Hamilton he went into Parlimint, and got to be a major-gineral thar.

"Now thar was Quail-Quail of Connecticut-as none of the histories says any thing about. He was nigh as bad a man as Shubael himself. And he and Shubael and another one of 'em was a-playin' cards down on old Peter Jay's place, in the Revolution, and Shubael he says, 'Now the one as loses this game must shoot the ole man as is a-ploughin' over into that ar field,' as was ole Kniffin and