DANIEL WEBSTER AND COL. T. H. PERKINS.
A SUMMER-DAY OUTING IN 1817.
BY JOHN K. ROGERS.
On the morning of Thursday, the fourteenth day of August, 1817, Col. Thomas H. Perkins, after an early breakfast, left his house on Pearl Street in Boston, and entered his travelling carriage, having in mind a pleasant day's excursion with his friend, Mr. Daniel Webster, for a purpose which will hereafter appear.
Though now given up to trade, Pearl Street was then the site of some of the finest dwellings in the city, and prominent among these was Col. Perkins's mansion, afterwards munificently bestowed, with other gifts, upon the Massachusetts Blind Asylum, which then became the Perkins Institution for the Blind, and occupied the building for its charitable purposes.
As his comfortable and substantial equipage passed down the gentle slope towards Milk Street, it met with a general recognition, for Boston was then a town of some thirty thousand people only, and Col. Perkins one of its best known citizens.
Born in 1764, at five years of age he saw from his father's house in King Street the Boston Massacre, and, after receiving a commercial education, was for more than fifty years a leading merchant in his native city. His military title was not one of courtesy only, but conferred upon him as commander of the Corps of Independent Cadets, a most respectable body of citizens, upon whom devolved the annual duty of escorting the Governor and Legislature to hear the time-honored Election Sermon, which marked the opening of the General Court in the month of January.
Passing up Milk Street, then also a street of dwellings,—among them the birthplace of Franklin,—the Old South Church, which at that time had received only its first "desecration," was soon reached, and the carriage turned into Washington Street, opposite the Province House—with its two large oak trees in front, and the grotesque gilt Indian on the roof with bended bow, just then pointing his arrow in obedience to a gentle breeze from the south-west; then up the narrow avenue of Bromfield Street, with the pretty view of the State House over the combined foliage of Paddock's elms and the Granary Burial Ground, and, turning into Tremont Street, our traveller was soon at Park-Street Corner.
The noble church edifice which graces this sightly spot, though sadly dealt with in its general symmetry, still lifts its lofty spire with undiminished beauty, and justifies the stirring lines of Dr. Holmes:—
"The Giant standing by the elm-clad green;
His white lance lifted o'er the silent scene;
Whirling in air his brazen goblet round,
Swings from its brim the swollen floods of sound."
As our friend turned into Park Street on this summer morning, the giant's lance threw its shadow far into the Common among the cows which were quietly cropping the dewy grass within the enclosure of the old rail fence, while his brazen goblet clanged the hour of seven.
As the substantial citizen of to-day passes up this street, where shops are rapidly displacing the mansions of the last century, he looks with honest pride upon Boston's crowning glory, the gilded dome which, like a great golden egg, is nested upright upon the roof which shelters the annually-assembled wisdom of the Old Commonwealth. Around its glowing swell the orbit of the sun's kiss is marked by an ever-moving flame, and even its shadows are luminous.
As he looks across the Common he catches glimpses of the "New Venice" which has been built upon the lagoons of the Back Bay, and sees among its towers and spires one beautiful campanile which, by its graceful inclination to the south, recalls Pisa's wonder, and lends a special charm to the view.
Upon the little eminence near the Frog Pond, once the site of the fort built during the British occupation to defend the city from the American army encamped on the opposite shore, rises the monument which commemorates the war of the Rebellion and the gallant men of Boston who lost their lives in defence of the Government.
On that pleasant morning in 1817, neither the beautiful new city nor the sad monument greeted the eye of the good Colonel, for the Common formed the western boundary of the town, and the British earthworks were still upon the little hill.
Could he have had a prophetic vision of the one, his honest pride in his native town would have risen almost to ecstasy. Could he have known of the other, his patriotic soul would have sunk within him, and the pleasure of his day's journey would have given place to grief.
Rounding the Common, by the Hancock mansion, with its lilac bushes and curiously wrought iron balcony, Walnut Street was soon reached, and, near its junction with Mount Vernon Street, the house of Mr. Webster.
The future "Defender of the Constitution" was no sluggard. It was his habit to "Rise with the lark and greet the purpling east," to use one of his favorite quotations, and the carriage had hardly stopped when he appeared, and, exchanging kindly greetings with the Colonel, took his place beside him.
Mr. Webster was at this time thirty-five years old, and had taken up his residence in Boston to resume the practice of his profession, after representing his native State of New Hampshire for two terms in Congress.
Col. Perkins was among the first to recognize his abilities, and a strong attachment had grown up between them. A marked element in the Colonel's character was his constant desire to investigate for himself remarkable developments in nature and art; and on this occasion, when he expected an unusual gratification of his curiosity, no company could be more congenial than that of his friend, the young advocate.
As the two companions made their way down the north side of Beacon Hill towards Charlestown bridge, their conversation, cheerful and even gay through the prospect of an interesting and pleasant excursion, turned from private matters to topics of local interest, and thence to national affairs.
Mr. Webster's experiences at Washington naturally took the lead, and were listened to with attention by his companion. Mr. Monroe was at this time taking an extended tour through the Northern States, having occupied the presidential chair but a few months; the "era of good feeling" had fairly commenced, partisan violence had for the time abated, and the country was at peace with all the powers of the earth.
Soon our travellers pass Charlestown bridge, leaving Copp's Hill and Christ Church, with its memories of Paul Revere, behind them, and approach Bunker's Hill, where eight years later Mr. Webster was to inaugurate the building of the monument with an eloquent address.
Next they cross the bridge to Chelsea, and, continuing their way through the little village beyond, the long stretch of the Salem Turnpike over the Lynn marshes opens to them, with the wooded heights of Saugus on the north, the wide sands of Lynn beach on the south, and few signs of life beside the skimming flight of wild fowl and the occasional plunge of a seal at their approach.
And now the wide expanse of land and sea, and the cool breeze stealing in from the water, turn their conversation to things maritime and foreign, to the wonders of the deep, and to the danger of those who "go down to the sea in ships," and brave its storms and hidden rocks.
The Colonel, from his youth fond of travel, had now many a story to tell of his early voyages on business to Charleston, Saint Domingo, Batavia, and Canton, and of his visits to Europe, one of which brought him in contact with some of the stirring scenes of the French Revolution in 1792.
Thus beguiling the time, they pass through the village of Lynn, with a glance at High Rock on the one side and a longer look on the beautiful peninsula of Nahant on the other. Between Lynn and Salem lies a rocky and sterile tract, to this day almost without an inhabitant, but not without its picturesque and beautiful spots, like that for instance about the little pond, which is crossed by the floating bridge, through the cracks of whose rude floor the water spouts in miniature geysers as the carriage rolls across.
Near by is the region where the famous witchcraft delusion took its rise; but reminiscences of this cruel drama are cut short by the abrupt transition to the closely-built streets of Salem, where our friends soon find themselves moving on through Essex Street, passing the East India Marine Hall, containing the contributions of Salem's numerous merchants and mariners, passing also the White mansion, a few years later to be the scene of a foul murder, in the investigation of which Mr. Webster was to make one of his most eloquent pleas, thence by the well-known Common and through the long avenue to Beverly bridge, over which they pass to the ancient town of Beverly, and are launched on that most delightful seashore road, which, continuing on through Manchester and Gloucester and round Cape Ann, has been pronounced the loveliest in New England.
Soon the Beverly Farms, and then Manchester, are reached,—both places known to-day as the summer residences of some of Boston's best citizens, whose comfortable and elegant homes are reared upon every commanding spot.
Next, after Manchester, the environs of Gloucester,—Kettle Cove, now rejoicing in the more pleasing name of "Magnolia," taken from the swamp near by, where grow those fragrant flowers whose creamy petals, set off by dark-green leaves, are popularly supposed to scent the air for miles around,—a race of strangers whose translation from the sunny South to this northern clime is one of the wonders of the region.
After Magnolia, they ride through the pleasant woods to Fresh Water Cove, passing Rafe's Chasm and Norman's Woe Rock. Now the extreme end of Eastern Point, stretching away to the right and forming the outer part of Gloucester Harbor, appears in sight; but it is not till the top of Sawyer's Hill is reached that our friends, gaining a full view of the wide-spread panorama, call a halt to enjoy its varied beauties.
Right before them appears the rocky point on which Roger Conant's colony of 1623, the first of the cape and the oldest after Plymouth and Boston, held its brief sway; farther on, Ten-Pound Island with its light-house; then the village of Gloucester, the old fort, the still older wind-mill, both prominent objects; and in the distance the twin lighthouses of Thatcher's Island, with Railcut Hill to the north-east, and, stretching to the north, the low, marshy level through which Squam River meanders to the sea by the sands of Coffin's Beach.
Under any circumstances this panorama would have challenged the admiration of our friends; but seen, as they saw it, on a clear summer day, with the wide expanse of blue water breaking under the influence of a gentle breeze into curling waves, which with gathering force dashed playfully upon the yellow ledges and shining beaches, with flocks of sea-gulls sweeping in graceful circles or brooding upon the surface, no ordinary description could do it justice.
The fair peninsula of Cape Ann, a large part of which now lay before them, called by the Indians "Wingershaek," has since been thrice named. By Samuel de Champlain, who visited in it in 1605, it was called Cap aux Isles, the islands being those now known as Straitsmouth Island, Thatcher's Island, and Milk Island. By Captain John Smith, who landed upon its rocky shores in 1614, it was named Tragabigzanda, and the same islands were called The Three Turks' Heads; and by Prince Charles, who, after Smith's return to England, gave it the name of Cape Ann, in honor of his mother, Queen Ann, consort of James the First.
The colony of Roger Conant was afterward transferred to Salem; but within the next ten years a permanent settlement was made, which in 1642 was incorporated under the name of Gloucester, in honor of the ancient city of that name in England.
From the first, Cape Ann has been the home of fishermen, though a considerable foreign commerce was at one time carried on by its thrifty mariners. Eminently patriotic, the town bore its share in the country's struggle for independence, two companies of Gloucester men having fought at Bunker's Hill, and its bold privateers did good service upon the ocean, not only in the Revolution, but in the later struggle with the mother country.
Our travellers, having satisfied their curiosity as to the general appearance of the town, are getting under way again for a nearer acquaintance, and becoming more and more interested in the special object of their visit.
As they approach the village, it is evident that something unusual is going on; they pass people moving in the same direction, with eager and expectant faces, to one of whom Mr. Webster ventures these questions: Can his serpentine majesty be seen to-day? and where to the best advantage? Receiving satisfactory replies, the coachman is ordered to drive to the old wind-mill, where they arrive in a few moments,—from the shady side of this quaint structure, whose merrily revolving sails were at their usual work, a large part of both the outer and inner harbors being easily seen.
Let us now take some note of occurrences which at this time were agitating the little town, and the fame of which had extended to Boston.
On Sunday, the tenth of August, four days before, Mr. Amos Story, rowing in his boat near Ten-Pound Island, was greatly disturbed, not to say alarmed, by the appearance, at some twenty rods' distance, of a sea monster, totally unlike anything he had ever seen in his long experience as a fisherman and mariner. Moving at the rate of a mile in two minutes, nearly one hundred feet in length, as large as the body of a man, with a head like a turtle, but carried high out of the water, with the body of a snake, but with the vertical motion of a caterpillar, and of a dark-brown color, this enormous reptile brought such fear to the honest fisherman as induced him to make a rapid retreat to a safe distance.
His account of the monster naturally set all the people on the lookout, and for nearly every day in the following two weeks it was seen under different circumstances by many of the inhabitants of Gloucester and the adjacent villages.
At the present day, on the first notice of such a wonderful appearance, the daily papers would send their reporters from far and near, and, with the help of the Associated Press, curious readers all over the country would the next morning have accounts of the Sea Serpent served to them at breakfast-time. Instantaneous photographs would be attempted, and the illustrated weeklies would give the world picturesque, if not accurate, representations of the monster and the localities in which he appeared. But in 1817 the news spread slowly, and no public mention was made of the matter till Saturday the 16th, when the Commercial Gazette of Boston, under the modest caption of "Something New," alludes to the reports that had been in circulation for some days, and describes the preparations making by a party who expected to capture the bold intruder.
The subject occupied the attention of the papers in Salem and Boston more or less for the next two months, for although the visit of the serpent seems to have ended early in September, records of former appearances in different parts of the world were fully discussed. It is worthy of notice that almost from the first the authentic character of the reports was admitted. The Chronicle and Patriot of Boston says, under date of Aug. 20, "Doubts having been expressed by some as to the fact of an aquatic serpent of the magnitude described having been seen in the harbor of Gloucester, we have conversed with gentlemen of that place of undoubted veracity who have seen him since the former accounts were published, and who declare that they have in no way been exaggerated."
These are brief extracts from the papers during the time that they were occupied with the subject: Aug. 18, "two serpents were seen playing together"; Aug. 25, one was seen "feasting on ale-wives in Kettle Cove"; Aug. 28, he was "still hovering on the coast and feeding on herring"; Sept. 4, "It is hoped that the naval commander on the coast will attempt its capture"; Sept. 10, he was seen at Salem, "after the swarms or schools of bait," and again, near Half-way Rock, "coiled up on the surface of the water, reposing after a hearty breakfast of herring"; Aug. 27, the "Aquatic Novelty" was "off Eastern Point"; Sept. 24, there was a notice of "Beach's picture about to be exhibited"; Oct. 1, "the Panorama of Gloucester with the great Sea Serpent will be ready for exhibition on Monday next." One account states that "he is cased in shell"; another, that "it is proposed to make a number of strong nets in the hope of entangling and so killing him"; Oct. 8, "the panorama is on exhibition at Merchant's Hall, Milk Street," and "Beach has in the hands of an engraver a view on a small scale, and is painting one 26 x 14 feet, including the town and harbor of Gloucester."
A small serpent of strange appearance having been taken on the land near Loblolly Cove, one correspondent writes at some length that it must have been the progeny of the two seen playing together, who were doubtless the parents.
Fortunately for the cause of science, there was at the time an association of naturalists called "The Linnæan Society of New England," whose prompt action caused the various reports about the matter to be carefully sifted, and the result placed before the public in an authentic manner. This society met at Boston on the 18th of August, and appointed a committee to collect evidence in regard to the existence and appearance of the strange animal.
The committee consisted of the Hon. John Davis, Jacob Bigelow, M.D., and Francis C. Gray, Esq., all men of the highest respectability, and of undoubted fitness and capacity for the work they were to undertake, and the result of their labors was published in a pamphlet of fifty-two pages, the title of which cautiously states that the report is "relative to a large marine animal, supposed to be a serpent, seen near Cape Ann, Massachusetts, in August, 1817." It was accompanied by an engraving of the "Scoliophis Atlanticus," the small snake captured near Loblolly Cove, representing the animal at full length, about three feet, and also in parts after dissection, with full explanations.
From this pamphlet it appears that on the 19th the committee wrote to Hon. Lonson Nash, a magistrate of Gloucester, asking him to examine upon oath some of those who had seen the animal, not allowing them to communicate with each other the substance of their respective statements till they were all committed to writing, and proposing certain rules with regard to the method of conducting the examination, as well as a list of twenty-five carefully prepared questions to be put to the persons examined.
Eight depositions received from Mr. Nash, and three others taken in Boston, all read before the Society on the 1st of September, are given in full, as well as further correspondence with Mr. Nash, and various accounts of similar appearances in former years and at other places. The committee seem to have no doubt but that the depositions were truthful and accurate, and suggest that the small serpent which they describe may have been of the same species as the larger one, and possibly its progeny.
The eight depositions taken at Gloucester were those of Amos Story, mariner; Solomon Allen, 3d, shipmaster; Epes Ellery, shipmaster; William H. Foster, merchant; Matthew Gaffney, ship carpenter; James Mansfield, merchant; John Johnston, Jr., a boy of seventeen; and William B. Pearson, merchant. The deponents were selected for their probity; each of them saw the serpent at different times and under different circumstances, and their very interesting statements, too long to be here given in full, are briefly summarized, so far as description is concerned, in the following extracts:—
This is what they say as to the length of the monster: "eighty to ninety feet," "forty feet at least," "forty to sixty feet in length," "fifty feet at least," "nothing short of seventy feet," "seventy feet at least," "not surprised if one hundred feet," "at least a hundred feet."
And this as to his size: "size of a man's body," "size of a half barrel," "joints from head to tail," "joints about the size of a two-gallon keg," "large as a barrel," "bunches on his back about a foot in height," "two and a half feet in circumference."
His movements are thus described: "slow, plunging about in circles, and sometimes moving nearly straight forward," "sunk directly down and appeared two hundred yards distant in two minutes," "did not turn down like a fish, but settled directly down like a rock," "moved at the rate of a mile in two or three minutes," "turned short and quick till his head came parallel with his tail," "sinuosities vertical," "in different directions, leaving on the water marks like those made by skating on the ice," "a mile in a minute," "vertical, like a caterpillar," "turns short and quick, head and tail moving in opposite directions and almost touching," "a mile in five or six minutes," "a mile in three minutes," "turned short, head and tail moving in opposite directions, and not more than two or three yards apart," "twelve or fourteen miles an hour," "swifter than any whale," "rising and falling as he moved," "head moving from side to side," "a mile in four minutes."
His head is "like the head of a sea-turtle," "carried ten to twelve inches above the water," "larger than the head of any dog," "like the head of a rattlesnake, but nearly as large as the head of a horse," "head two feet above the surface of the water," "top of his head flat," "a prong or spear about twelve inches long which might have been his tongue," "as large as a man's head," "large as a four-gallon keg," "about a foot above the water," "eye dark and sharp," "tongue like a harpoon thrown out two feet from his jaws," "mouth open ten inches," "like a serpent."
And his color is "dark brown," "black or very dark," "white beneath," "head, top brown; under part nearly white."
In some respects more interesting than the report of the Linnæan society are the statements published in New York in the fall of 1817, under the title of "Letters from the Hon. David Humphreys, F.R.S., to the Rt. Hon. Sir Joseph Banks, President of the Royal Society, London, containing some account of the Serpent of the Ocean frequently seen in Gloucester Bay."
Mr. Humphreys, a citizen of Connecticut apparently, visited Gloucester repeatedly in August, and, though he did not succeed in getting a look at the great snake, had many interviews with those who did, and was present when the depositions were taken.
The narrative of his experience at Gloucester, with some letters from Mr. Nash, a detailed account of efforts to catch the serpent, and some statements in regard to its visit to Long Island Sound later in the year, make eighty-six pages of pleasant reading, which those curious to know about the matter will find well worth their attention.
His version of the depositions is also interesting, varying somewhat as it does from that published by the Linnæan Society, and he goes at length into the reasons for believing the small captured serpent to have been the offspring of the large one.
It is easy to account for the variations in the evidence taken before Mr. Nash, when we find from the statements of the parties that the distance at which the serpent was seen varied from thirty feet to one hundred and fifty yards. But there is agreement in the important points which clearly separate the animal described from all well-known fishes. The undulating vertical motion producing the appearance of humps upon the back, the small size of the body compared with its length, the sharp turns when the head and tail moved in opposite directions, the elevated head, and the protruding tongue, are more or less recognized in every description.
Let us now return to our friends, whom we have left at the old mill. It was the curiosity of Col. Perkins, who was already familiar with the water-snakes of the Indian Ocean, and strongly inclined to believe in the existence of the monster serpent, which led him, at the first reports from Gloucester, to plan this visit to the scene of the excitement. And in good truth he had planned it well, and had selected his time with that rare good luck which attended most of his mercantile operations. It had been a "field-day," so to speak, in Gloucester Harbor, the serpent having been visible, more or less, all the morning.
Looking out over the water, where boats were moving cautiously about, Rocky Neck and Ten-Pound Island on one side and the old fort on the other, our friends found that most of the points from which a good view could be obtained were occupied by spectators waiting for the sinuous monster, who was not long in making his appearance, and seemed to enjoy the occasion as well as his company.
Sometimes playing in wide circles, sometimes moving rapidly in a straight line, leaving a long wake behind him, he at length approached so near the lookout of our travellers that, with the Colonel's field-glass, they could easily see his snaky head, his open mouth, his gleaming eyes, and his protruding tongue.
One adventurous boatman, Mr. Matthew Gaffney, getting within some thirty feet, fired at him with his gun, carrying an eighteen-to-the-pound ball, and aiming full at his head. The monster turned, and sinking down like a rock, went directly under the boat, making his appearance a hundred rods off, apparently unhurt. He continued his playful gambols as before, finally moving off out of the harbor till he was lost in the distance.
Our friends now found themselves the objects of attention on the part of several gentlemen, who, hearing of their visit, had sought them out, in order to pay due respect to such distinguished visitors. Among them were Mr. Lonson Nash, the eminently respectable lawyer of the town, before whom were made the affidavits to which we have already alluded; Capt. Jack Beach, an eccentric gentleman of leisure, whose drawing of Gloucester harbor, with the serpent occupying a prominent position, was afterward enlarged into a painting, and subsequently engraved; and Col. William Tappan, landlord of the tavern where our friends were to dine.
The meeting between this last gentleman and Mr. Webster was one of unusual interest. Col. Tappan had been the instructor of Mr. Webster's youth at Salisbury in his native State, and was greeted with unaffected and hearty cordiality by his now eminent pupil. The future statesman had been the brightest boy in his school, so Master Tappan said, and among other well-earned rewards obtained a new jackknife for committing to memory a large number of verses from the Bible. After hearing sixty or seventy, with several chapters yet in mind, his instructor gave up the trial, and afterwards told the boy's father that he "would do God's work injustice if he did not send him to college."
In company with Col. Tappan and the other gentlemen, our travellers repaired to the tavern, which was near at hand, and enjoyed not only a good dinner, but much pleasant conversation in regard to the events of the week, varied with reminiscences of school days by the master and pupil.
But the waning afternoon soon warned them that an early departure was necessary if they were to reach their homes before dark. Their carriage was ordered, leave taken of their new acquaintances, as well as of the landlord, and with lingering looks at the now quiet scene of the day's excitement, they passed rapidly out of the town over the same road by which they entered it in the early part of the day.
Seen from the opposite side, each point in the home journey presented new beauties to add to the pleasant remembrances of the morning. The afternoon shadows gave a tender touch to the landscape, and a serious tone to the conversation, which, dealing reverently with the great problems of life and immortality, continued till the friends arrived at their homes in the early dusk.
Sixty-eight years have passed since the events which have been narrated, and the two friends whom we have followed through that beautiful August day have long since passed to their reward.
The shrewd, far-seeing, and successful merchant and public-spirited citizen, completing at the extreme old age of ninety a well-developed life, and leaving a reputation, not only without a stain, but adorned with the memory of numerous philanthropic and benevolent acts.
The able lawyer, after rising to the highest fame as a statesman and orator, passing away at threescore and ten, his latest years overshadowed by the grief of a disappointed ambition.
A few weeks before his death at Marshfield, in 1852, Mr. Webster presented to Colonel Perkins a copy of his published speeches, with the following written therein:—
"My Dear Sir,—If I possessed anything which I might suppose likely to be more acceptable to you as a proof of my esteem than these volumes, I should have sent it in their stead. But I do not; and therefore ask your acceptance of a copy of this volume of my speeches. I have long cherished, my dear sir, a profound, warm, affectionate, and I may say a filial regard for your person and character. I have looked upon you as one born to do good, and who has fulfilled his mission; as a man without a spot or blemish, as a merchant known and honored over the whole world; a most liberal supporter and promoter of science and the arts; always kind to scholars and literary men, and greatly beloved by them all; friendly to all the institutions of religion, morality, and education; and an unwavering and determined supporter of the constitution of his country, and of those great principles of civil liberty which it is so well calculated to uphold and advance. These sentiments I inscribe here in accordance with my best judgment, and out of the fulness of my heart: and I wish here to record, also, my deep sense of the many personal obligations under which you have placed me in the course of our long acquaintance. Your ever faithful friend,
Daniel Webster."
Should this dedication, truly as it portrays the excellent character of the person to whom it was addressed, seem to be redundant and overstated, let us remember that the writer, feeble and sorrowful, was penning his last words to his old and perhaps best friend, and its very extravagance at once assumes a childish pathos. The critical eye as it scans the record becomes dim with the sympathetic tear, and reads between the blurred lines only the passionate tribute of a broken spirit.
In the ample stairway of the Boston Athenæum hang portraits of the two men,—that of Colonel Perkins, painted by Sully in 1833, is an exceedingly graceful presentation, and represents him at full length, carefully dressed, and seated in an easy attitude. The accessories are skilfully introduced, especially the large and exquisitely shaped china pitcher, which doubtless represents some gift received through his commercial relations with the East. The picture of Mr. Webster, also full length, was painted by Harding in 1849, and is an excellent likeness as well as a painting of much merit, though lacking the charming qualities of the other portrait.
During these sixty-eight years, great changes have come upon the little village of Gloucester, now grown to a city of more than twenty thousand people; its houses, then few and rude, have increased in number till the rocky hills are covered almost to their summits with the neat dwellings of its still hardy and adventurous population.
The old wind-mill, from whose vicinity our friends saw the monster snake, has given way to a summer hotel, whose occupants look out upon the beautiful bay and watch the incoming and outgoing of the fishing fleet of five hundred staunch schooners, manned by the bold mariners who seek their prey on "Georges," the Grand Banks, or the far waters of the Gulf of St. Lawrence; while the old fort, which never succumbed to a foe, has given way to the invasion of industry, till its grounds are covered and its walls obscured by buildings intended for occupation or labor.
And what during these sixty-eight years has befallen the enormous reptile, whose visit to Cape Ann called our friends to examine for themselves his claim to be the real Sea Serpent?
In what waters plays the sportive monster to-day? Did he return to the coast of Norway, where, according to the naturalists of the country, such as he live at the bottom of the sea, rising sometimes to the surface in summer, but plunging again as soon as the wind raises the least wave? Or did the bullet of Matthew Gaffney inflict a wound of which he afterwards perished in some submarine retreat?
The most cautious naturalists, while endeavoring to explain on various hypotheses the authentic appearances of marine monsters resembling serpents,—one theory being that they are abnormal cases of unusual growth of ordinary marine animals, and another that they are individuals of an almost extinct race,—are compelled to admit that the time may come when, with further evidence, scientific examination will accurately determine the question, and the Sea Serpent take its place among the acknowledged dwellers in the sea.