a foretop or by the side hair combed up and braided on the top; total devastation by a full wig. Women rarely needed anything more than a foretop. Engaged in a business like this, himself well on in years, we can easily imagine the class of customers and their friends that gathered about the hearthstone of the wig-maker, sipping their flip or cider and telling stories, as men of their age are fond of doing. The host doubtless often told how his father, when a boy, was captured at the sacking of the town in 1704; how, being carried to Canada, he lived with his Indian master at Lorette; how William, son of Governor Dudley, then on a mission to Vaudreuil, governor of Canada, saw him on the streets at Quebec one day, and how the envoy jingled twenty silver dollars in the face of his Indian owner and offered to exchange them for the boy; how the savage could not withstand the temptation, and the captive boy was made free; how the Indian, soon repenting of his bargain, came back with the dumb dollars for the live boy who could hunt and fish.

Too late, for Dudley, foreseeing this, had hurried Jonathan on board an English vessel, and the Indian went away lamenting. David had doubtless often seen this Indian, for in times of peace he used to come to Deerfield to see the lost boy, of whom he was very fond. Jonathan, says tradition, showed great affection for the savage and declared his sojourn in Canada to be the happiest part of his life. Of course, David talked freely on this topic; but there is reason to think he was fond of silence. He believed silence to be kingly, if not golden, and so he had married as a second wife Silence King. A less sentimental she, too, being a "maker of foretops" - may have had its bearing on the case. Why not? Love and thrift are good everyday yoke mates; - blossom and fruit. Thriftless love is too unsubstantial for

reason

use.

David's stories would doubtless be matched by others. Deacon Jeremiah Nims, son of that John who was taken and carried to Canada from near Frary's Bridge in 1703, could tell of

his father's adventures while in CanaIdian captivity and his terrible experiences when, with three other young men, he escaped and made his way home through the wilderness, where he arrived in a demented state and nearly famished. John Williams, Nathan Catlin, John Sheldon could each relate tales of Indian warfare and captivity, heard from their grandfathers; while his next door neighbor, Justin Hitchcock, could talk of a later war, and thrill his hearers with his own experiences while responding to the Lexington alarm. He could tell how the inspiring notes of his fife renewed the tired muscle of the Deerfield Minute Men under Captain Locke on their march to meet the enraged British lion in Boston. The fifer could also relate as an eye witness the particulars and the result of the disastrous campaign of Burgoyne, and could tell with a relish how the company of Captain Joseph Stebbins and others swooped

shadows of the group around the hearthstone upon the green baize curtains of the turn-up bed and the red wainscoted walls, where they appeared huge and weird, like the ghosts of restless giants; - pictures quite in keeping with the tales that were told.

About a century ago, Epaphras Hoyt, son of David and Silence, became the owner and occupant of the cottage, which then retained its original external form, to which recent

changes have restored it. Although a young

man, Hoyt brought with him a valued experience, and the atmosphere as well as the form of the house was gradually changed. Hoyt was a man of genius, whom science had marked for its own, and he gathered here all kindred elements in the town. His Experience, or "Spiddy," as she was called, bore fruit from time to time, and wider accommodations were required; so "Aunt Spiddy's bedroom" and back kitchen were added in the rear, and "Aunt Spiddy's stoop" in front.

down upon the personal baggage train of the harassed general, and could perhaps show, like some of his fellows, trophies harvested on that occasion. Captain Joseph himself, whose house stood in sight across lots, could repeat the well known pranks of the mobs he led in visiting the tories and enforcing their signatures to patriotic resolutions. Others could tell stories of witches, or of ghosts, as the current talk of the evening might run. Meanwhile, the light from the blazing hickory logs was casting

The favorite studies of General Hoyt were the art of war, natural philosophy, astronomy and colonial history. He was in the meridian of life when the great wars of Europe which followed the "Reign of Terror" convulsed that continent. As a military man, he watched the course of Napoleon with the deepest interest. He followed him step by step, over the Alps into Italy, over the sea into Egypt, over the Pyrenees into Spain,

where his cannon disturbed the "burial of Sir John Moore;" across the Rhine to the fields of Ulna and Austerlitz and Jena and Eylau and Wagram, as he raged to and fro like a demon of destruction, ignoring or tearing into tatters, all the established rules which had hitherto been the guide for the movements of European arms on the march or in manœuvres on the field of battle. Here was a rare chance to study the art of war on a grand scale from a new master. Hoyt, like an enthusiastic patriot, gave himself up to it with ardor and success. Can we not see him with the poker drawing plans in the ashes on this great hearth, plans of recent battles to illustrate his theme, showing his friends how Napoleon had beaten the Italians, the Austrians or the Russians, by this or that movement, at this or that critical moment? The point once demonstrated, Aunt Spiddy with a few whisks of her birchen broom sent the offending ashes under the fore stick, sweeping aside these plans no more effectually than some new burst of genius in the Corsican did those of the crowned heads of Europe.

One result of these studies was a treatise on "The Military Art," issued in 1798, for the use of the United States army. This work attracted the attention of the first President, and it was doubtless by the light of our east window that General Hoyt read the letter from Washington offering him a command in the United States army, which was then being organized for a conflict with France. Hoyt's work passed through several editions, and was followed by more elaborate works, largely prepared under this roof. All were illustrated by plates, showing the formation and evolutions. of companies, regiments and armies, on parade and in active service on the field. Imagine sketches of these plans pinned up on the red wainscoting of the kitchen, and note the trouble they gave Aunt Spiddy, when the frolicsome wind from the open window sent

them scurrying over her nicely sanded floor, with the possibility that some might be caught in the draft and whisked with the flame and smoke up the wide-throated chimney. Hoyt's reason for declining the commission from Washington we do not know. We do know that it was not a lack of patriotism or waning love of the military art. Probably he felt the call for home duties more urgent. He was Inspector-General of the state troops. Trouble was brewing with Great Britain as well as with France, and many feared that the great Corsican himself would turn his arms across the waters to our shores. The hand of General Hoyt may be seen in the action of the Board of Trustees of Deerfield Academy, when in 1806 a new professorship was established. It was for teaching the "Theoretical and Practical Art of War viz:-tactics according to Stuben and Dundas . . . Practical Geometry on the Ground; Elements of Fortifications, and the Construction. of small works in the Field; Elements of Gunnery; Topography; Military History; Partisan War, or War of Posts; . . . These subjects will be under the direction of Major Hoyt, Brigade Inspector. . . . It is believed that the Present Critical Situation of our Country will induce young men to qualify themselves for an honorable defence against every hostile attack on their native land and lay a foundation for military Glory."

But our genius sacrificed not alone upon the shrine of Mars. Gradually, as the years went on, the little cottage on the Albany road became the undoubted center of mental activity for Northern Hampshire. Around its hearthstone the young men gathered and listened to discussions of the most abstruse problems, not only of war, but of philosophy and pure science. Here space was measured with a line, the trackless star was traced to its hiding place by day, the sun after his going down at night, and a path was predicted for the erratic comet. Some of the results of these hearthstone

studies are with us in published works on astronomy, military science and colonial history by Hoyt, and on mathematics, biblical criticism, civil law and general literature by Rodolphus Dickinson, one of his young friends.

Another boy of whom the world. has heard received here his inspiration and here enjoyed his first laurels. Half a dozen rods from the great east window, Epaphras and Experience could see Mercy, sister of the General and wife of Justin Hitchcock, as she leaned from her pantry window for a morning chat, or busied herself about her back yard chores, her chickens and her geese. Among her twolegged cares was a bright, dark-eyed boy, the torment of her life, who early came under the influence of his "Uncle Ep." As a mere lad he would eagerly listen to the talk round his uncle's hearthstone, and as he grew in years his love for the truths of science kept pace with his hatred of the great usurper Napoleon; for all along he had drunk in the current talk which represented this master of the art of war as a blood-thirsty tyrant, a cruel monster, whose pastime was the murder of women and children. Picture the scene at the cottage on the evening of Monday, March 4, 1805, as the General read the latest news, that three months before, at Notre Dame, Bonaparte had been crowned emperor of France. Did hatred for the French nation prevent even pity for its fate? Did righteous indignation or dread despair for suffering humanity come uppermost in the minds of the assembled group? One year lacking a day, other news came, and to the hearers the tables seemed turned. With what joy they heard the General read from the Greenfield Gazette a highly colored account of the success of Alexander and the allied army over the French in a battle of December 2, 1805, and the comments - that "sanguine hopes are now entertained in Europe that Bonaparte has at length arrived at the termination of his career."

"NOW

SILENTLY

RESTING IN MEMORIAL HALL."

This was the first report by the way of England of the battle of Austerlitz, a battle in which Napoleon gained one of his greatest victories over the combined armies of Russia and Austria. The fulfilment of these "sanguine hopes" was not yet. More countries were to be overrun, and more thrones to be overturned; thousands of widows and orphans were yet to taste the horrors of war. At length, however, Bonaparte's hour struck. June 3, 1814, a hand-bill was received at Deerfield, which was published in the Franklin Herald of June 7, containing the joyful news that the allied armies had entered Paris and that the emperor was a fugitive. We of this day can hardly imagine the excitement and the thanksgiving which followed this announcement; and of all the coterie of the little brown house, not one was more strongly impressed than the "bright, dark-eyed boy," Edward Hitchcock. He at once began his tragedy, "The Downfall of Bona

parte." In its pages can be seen reflected the sentiment of the time, which ranked Napoleon as the most. heartless and cruel despot the sun ever shone upon, and Alexander, the czar of Russia, as the friend of humanity and the prince of peace. It gives us queer notions of our democracy to see the emperor stigmatized in this production as "a mud sprung reptile," "a filthy toad," a "base born Corsican." This tragedy, which covered the leading events of the rise and fall of Napoleon, was put upon the boards and acted by the leading lights of Deerfield in the old meetinghouse, part of the pews being floored over for a stage. This was the event of that generation, and the assumed names of the actors clung to many of them through life. In my boyhood, the names of Blucher and Ney, Lescourt

author and his fellows, as they spouted the lurid lines before the critic in rehearsal for the stage; and the copyist was doubtless often vexed by changes in the text in order to insert some new technical military phrase or let in a little more blood and thunder. How wide a circulation this historic effusion had is not known; but Horace Greeley relates that when an apprentice at Poultney, Vermont, the tragedy was acted there, and he personated one of the characters. In after years, President Hitchcock made efforts to suppress this callow effort of his genius, and copies are scarce in consequence. Under the lead of his uncle, young Hitchcock became an ardent student of astronomy and, making a practical application of his acquirements, constructed the astronomical tables for a series of almanacs