University of Virginia Library

The Plantations, May ye 10th, 1679.

We left Boston on the 4th, at about sunrise, and rode
on at a brisk trot, until we came to the banks of the
River, along which we went near a mile before we found
a suitable Ford, and even there the water was soe deep
that we only did escape a wetting by drawing our Feet
up to the saddle-trees. About noon, we stopped at a

Farmer's house, in the hope of getting a Dinner; but
the room was dirty as an Indian Wigwam, with two
children in it, sick with the Measles, and the Woman
herself in a poor way, and we were glad to leave as
soon as possible, and get into the fresh Aire again.
Aunt had provided me with some cakes, and Mr.
Easton, who is an old traveller, had with him a roasted
Fowl, and a good loaf of Indian Bread; soe, coming to
a spring of excellent Water, we got off our Horses,
and, spreading our napkins on the grass and drie
leaves, had a comfortable Dinner. John's Sister is a
Widow, a livelie merry Woman, and proved rare companie
for me. Afterwards we rode until the Sun was
nigh setting, when we came to a little hut on the Shore
of a broad Lake at a place called Massapog. It had
been dwelt in by a white Familie formerly, but it was
now empty, and much decayed in the roof, and as we
did ride up to it we saw a wild Animal of some sort
leap out of one of its windows, and run into the pines.
Here Mr. Easton said we must make shift to tarry
through the Night, as it was manie miles to the house
of a white man. Soe getting off our Horses, we went
into the hut, which had but one room, with loose
boards for a floor; and as we sat there in the Twilight, it
looked dismal enough; but presentlie Mr. Easton coming
in, with a great load of dried boughs, struck a light
in the stone Fire-place, and we soon had a roaring fire.
His Sister broke off some hemlock boughs near the
door, and made a Broom of them, with which she swept
up the floor, soe that when we sat down on blocks by
the Hearth, eating our poor Supper, we thought ourselves
quite comfortable and tidy. It was a wonderful
clear Night, the Moon rising as we judged, about eight
of the Clock, over the tops of the Hills on the Easterly
side of the Lake, and shining brightlie on the Water in
a long line of Light, as if a silver Bridge had been laid
across it. Looking out into the Forest, we could see
the beams of the Moon, falling here and there through
the thick tops of the Pines and Hemlocks, and showing
their tall trunks, like to so manie pillars in a Church or
Temple. There was a Westerlie Wind blowing, not
steadily, but in long Gusts, which, sounding from a
great distance through the Pine leaves, did make a
solemn and not unpleasing Musick, to which I listened
at the door until the cold drove me in for shelter. Our
Horses, having been fed with Corn, which Mr. Easton
took with him, were tied at the back of the Building,
under the cover of a thick growth of Hemlocks, which
served to break off the night Wind. The Widow and
I had a comfortable bed in the corner of the room,
which we made of small Hemlock sprigs, having our
Cloaks to cover us, and our saddle-bags for Pillows.
My companions were soon asleep, but the exceeding
strangeness of my situation did keep me a long time
awake. For, as I lay there looking upward, I could
see the Stars shining down a great hole in the Roof,
and the moonlight streaming through the seams of the
logs, and mingling with the red glow of the coals on
the Hearth. I could hear the Horses stamping, just
outside, and the sound of the Water on the Lake shore,
the crie of wild Animals in the depth of the Woods,
and, over all, the long and very wonderful murmur of
the Pines in the Wind. At last, being sore weary, I
fell asleep, and waked not until I felt the warm Sun
shining in my face, and heard the voice of Mr. Easton,
bidding me rise, as the Horses were readie.

After riding about two hours, we came upon an
Indian Camp, in the midst of a thick wood of Maples.
Here were six spacious Wigwams; but the men were
away, except two verie old and infirm ones. There
were five or six Women, and perhaps twice as manie
Children, who all came out to see us. They brought
us some dried Meat, as hard nigh upon as chips of
Wood, and which, although hungrie, I could feel no
stomach for; but I bought of one of the Squaws two
great cakes of Sugar, made from the sap of the Maples
which abound there, verie pure and sweet, and which
served me instead of their unsavory Meat and cakes

of pounded Corn, of which Mr. Easton and his sister
did not scruple to partake. Leaving them, we had a
long and hard ride to a place called Winnicinnit, where,
to my great joy, we found a comfortable House and
Christian people, with whom we tarried. The next day
we got to the Plantations; and about noon, from the
top of a hill, Mr. Easton pointed out the Settlement
where my Brother dwelt — a fair, pleasant Valley,
through which ran a small river, with the houses of the
Planters on either side. Shortly after, we came to a
new frame house, with a great oak Tree left standing
on each side of the gate, and a broad Meadow before
it, stretching down to the water. Here Mr. Easton
stopped; and now, who should come hastening down
to us but my new Sister, Margaret, in her plain but
comelie dress, kindly welcoming me; and soon my
Brother came up from the Meadow, where he was busie
with his men. It was indeed a joyful meeting.

The next day, being the Sabbath, I went with my
brother and his wife to the Meeting, which was held
in a large house of one of their Quaker neighbors.
About a score of grave, decent people did meet there,
sitting still and quiet for a pretty while, when one of their
number, a venerable man, spake a few words, mostlie
Scripture; then a young woman, who, I did afterwards
learn, had been hardly treated by the Plymouth people,

did offer a few words of encouragement and exhortation
from this portion of the xxxiv Psalm: The Angel
of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear him,
and delivereth them. When the Meeting was over,
some of the ancient Women came and spake kindly to
me, inviting me to their houses. In the evening, certain
of these people came to my Brother's, and were
kind and loving towards me. There was, nevertheless,
a gravitie and a certain staidness of Deportment, which
I could but ill conform unto, and I was not sorry when
they took leave. My Uncle Rawson need not fear my
joining with them; for although I doe judge them to be
a worthy and pious people, I like not their manner of
Worship, and their great gravitie and soberness doe
little accord with my natural temper and spirits.