branches of the same family; an alteration, which seems to have been generally adopted by the descendants of Henry, of Cambridge.*

Samuel Prentiss, the grandfather of Seargent, was graduated at Harvard University in 1771, and after the birth of his eldest son William, removed to Gorham, Me., where he resided if his death.

SEARGENT SMITH PRENTISS was born at Portland, Maine, September 30, 1808. His father, William Prentiss, a highly respected and prosperous shipmaster, was a man of much energy and decision of character, of quick intelligence, and strong domestic affections. His return from sea was always the signal for great family rejoicing; a season, too, redolent of oranges, pine-apples, and other products of foreign climes, sweet to the taste, or pleasant to the eye.

Few things contribute so much to give variety and animation to the household-life of a New England seaport as the

*I am indebted for these facts to The History and Genealogy of the Prentice or Prentiss Family in New England, from 1631 to 1852, published in Boston, 1852, by C. J. F. Binney. The work contains much curious and valuable information about the family, but is not free from inaccuracies; e. g. in stating that the Editor of this Memoir was "a Representative to the Massachusetts Legislature, 1848, from New Bedford." Mr. Binney says the name is an old one in England. In Rhymer's Fœdera, vol. iii., page 730, mention is made of Thomas Prentiz, Anno Domini 1818, An. 12, Ed. 2. Also, John Prentys, Rector of Winterborn, Bradston, Aug. 22, 1413, and Prebendary of York, North Newbold. The first of the name in America was, probably, Valentine Prentice, who came over with Elliot, the Apostle to the Indians, in 1631, and settled in Roxbury, Mass. "He lived a godly life, and went through much affliction by bodily infirmity, and died leaving a good safr (savor) of godliness behind him." Deacon Henry Prentice, grandfather of Samuel, "owned the Fresh Pond property in Cambridge. A valuable document, written and signed by him, instituting the first prayer meeting, is in possession of Rev. Mr. Albro, of the Shepherd Congregational Church. He was a tall and very gravelooking man, sat in the Deacons' seat in church, directly in front of the minister, and in cold weather he put on a green woollen cap with a tassel on the top, to keep his head warm, it being bald on top."

constant coming and going of husbands, fathers, sons, and brothers, on their more or less distant voyages. The home of a sea-captain is marked by peculiar excitement and gladness during his visits, followed by unusual fears, anxiety, and loneliness while he is away. How differently affected are his wife and children by the wintry blasts, by tidings of shipwrecks and storms at sea, by reports of pirates and naval captures, from those of the landsman. And when, after long and perilous voyages, he comes back in safety, with what eagerness do the children listen to his story. How they talk it over among themselves, and feast their young imaginations upon its wonders.

Capt. Prentiss had not a few hair-breadth escapes to relate. He had encountered storms and hurricanes, had been repeatedly shipwrecked, chased by pirates, and boarded by a British man-of-war. Many of these things happened while Seargent was a boy, and all were among the familiar traditions of the fireside, repeated a hundred times by his mother during the long winter evenings. It was in these early days, no doubt, his memory became stored with those wild, ocean images which, in later years, he wrought into forms of such exceeding beauty and grandeur.

While yet an infant, he was seized with a violent fever, which reduced him to the verge of death, deprived him for several years of the use of his limbs, and was the cause of the defect in one of them, from which he never recovered. For his partial recovery be was indebted to the unwearied care and devotion of his mother. Every day she was accustomed to spend an hour or two in rubbing and bathing his torpid limbs; this she continued to do, as far as her own infirm health would allow, year after year, until one by one they became strong enough to perform their appropriate functions: the right leg alone refused to be entirely healed, emaining lame and feeble to the last. With this exception,

his physical development was perfect; that of an ancient wrestler could hardly have been more so.

Those who knew him in after years, will, perhaps, recol lect his horror of cold water bathing. It had its origin in infancy. After trying in vain all other appliances, his mother was advised to dip him every morning in cold water drawn directly from the well; and this she did, except in winter, for several years. It proved effectual in hastening his restoration; but he could never after hear of a cold bath without shuddering.

He did not forget the patient love that rescued him from the misfortune of growing up a helpless cripple. The filial piety, which will form a chief attraction of these pages, had in it a depth of tenderness and gratitude of which that love is the best and only solution.

Seargent's parents were members of the congregation over which Rev. Edward Payson, then in the first glow and outburst of that apostolic zeal which, at length, consumed him, had been recently ordained minister. They were among the earliest of a great company who were indebted to his pious labors for their Christian hope; he was endeared to them, therefore, not merely as a beloved teacher and friend, but as the father of their religious life. The impression made upon Seargent by this devoted man, was strong and abiding. Aside from the veneration he cherished for him as the one by whom he had been baptized, and who was regarded by his parents with an affection scarcely "this side idolatry," he felt, doubtless the electric touch of that genius for which Dr. Payson was no less eminent than for his seraphic piety. One fond of tracing the subtle influences which shape and give tone to the development of the individual mind, could easily believe that in this close contact of the embryo orator with the ardent and eloquent divine, lay the secret cause of not a little that he afterwards became

He ever retained an affectionate respect for the memory and virtues of his early pastor, and often spoke of his peculiar talent for original, happy illustration, in terms of congenial admiration and delight.*

He retained, too, through life an almost boyish attachment to his native town. Casco Bay, upon which it lies, he once called, in poetic phrase, "the fairest dimple on ocean's cheek." It is studded with pretty islands, some say one for each day in the year. No stranger who visits Portland in the summer, or early autumn, can fail to admire the charming variety and beauty of its scenery. The sea-views, sweeping down the coast, or opening out upon the broad Atlantic, are singularly fine; while the landscapes, bounded far away in the distance by a magnificent prospect of the White Mountains, are not less attractive.

During the war with Great Britain, Captain Prentiss removed to Gorham, a town distant some eight or nine miles from Portland. Like many others, he was driven into the country by the ruin which had fallen upon commerce. Portland was one of the leading shipping-ports in the Union; the amount of its tonnage being less than that of only three or four others. The prostration of business caused by Mr. Jefferson's embargo policy, and then by actual hostilities with our great transatlantic customer, was complete. It is remembered to this day with terror by old merchants and shipmasters, some of whom, during forty years, have not been able to recover from its blighting reverses. So long as the lessons of the war of 1812 are kept in memory, the commercial temper of the country is not likely to be belligerent.

In a letter written in 1843, he alludes to Dr. Payson as "our old family pastor one of the most, if not the most, eloquent of the American divines, whose name is reverenced by all good men."

This removal to Gorham was fraught with the most import ant results, being one of those domestic changes which, appa rently trifling at the time, in the end prove to have been turning-points in the destiny both of parents and children. It gave form and coloring to Seargent's whole subsequent life. Gorham was a pleasant farming town, especially distin. guished for religious and educational advantages. Its original settlers, a hardy, intelligent and pious race, were sprung of the genuine Pilgrim stock. Some of them still survived, full of anecdotes of the Revolutionary times, and of their early conflicts and adventures with the wild beasts and Indians, who, long after their coming, continued to haunt the forests of Gorham.*

In this town lived Seargent's maternal grandfather, Major George Lewis. Like most of the early settlers of Gorham, he was a native of Cape Cod, whence he had emi grated after the close of the Revolutionary War. His farm was situated at a little distance from Clement's Corner, on the old county road to Standish, at the point where it turns off towards Buxton. The house, erected by him in the wilderness, three-quarters of a century ago, is yet standing, but untenanted, and ready to vanish away.

Major Lewis was a man of great weight and force of character, of excellent understanding, and noted for the earnestness of his religious and political convictions. One might have gone far before finding a truer specimen of the Puritan deacon, or of the old-fashioned Washingtonian Federalist. Before emigrating to Maine, he had been out in the Revolutionary war, served as an officer in the battle of Bunker-Hill, and was deeply imbued with the patriotic

*For an interesting account of the settlement and early history of Gorham with sketches of its leading men, see Judge Pierce's Centennial Discourse, Portland, 1835,