File:Americana (1913) (14579370398).jpg

Identifier: americana_q19131amer (find matches)
Title: Americana
Year: 1909 (1900s)
Authors: American Historical Company National Americana Society American Historical Society
Subjects:
Publisher: New York : National Americana Society
Contributing Library: Allen County Public Library Genealogy Center
Digitizing Sponsor: Internet Archive

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the St. NicholasMagazine of July, 1874, is well worth a careful reading. Catching up the thread of our story which was dropped forthe purpose of referring to the story of Rebecca Bates and SarahWinsor frightening the British out of Scituate Harbor, in theWar of 1812, I will now say that while looking from the auto(for we did not leave our seats) at the roof which for a shorttime covered my infant head, my elder brother, who is the familygenealogist and historian, pointed out, once more, the identicalroom of grandfathers former home in which I was born. Imust, however, confess, that as I think of the house whose wallsheard my first infant cry, I share somewhat the sentiments of thepoet, BjTon, when he penned the following lines: He enterd his home—his home no more,For without hearts there is no home—and feltThe solitude of passing his own doorWithout a welcome. Soon after entering Marshfield township we began to get fineviews of Massachusetts Bay, two or three miles distant to the
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1. Thejaiayflower in Plymouth Harbor^iij^ 2. Birthplace of Andrew M. Sherman, Marshfield, Mass. HISTORIC NEW ENGLAND TOWNS REVISITED 51 eastward, and of the gracefully winding creeks that run into itat different points along the irregular shore. The extensive saltmarsh lands that lie all along the shore are also a sight worthseeing; this marsh land is highly prized by the owners for theabundance of grass, such as it is, which it annually furnishes. The distance from Bridgewater to Plymouth, by the routetaken by our driver, was about thirty-seven miles, and we cov-ered it in a few minutes over two hours; from which it may beeasily inferred that we (there were four of us) were no mere**joy riders or dare-devil-dicks. CHAPTER IV We Abrive in Plymouth, Mass. No lust for poiver, no greed for goldCould lure to shame those settlers old.The virtues that to them belongRebuke each age of selfish lurong. It was a few minutes after the noon hour when we drew up infront of one of the best restaura

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