Historic Homes of New England

by Mary Harrod Northend

Stone walls were not then built to define boundaries, and the highway was a mere bridle-path running by the door and on between the houses of Henry Sewall and William Longfellow to the ford over the brook, at that time a considerable stream. The captain, who took kindly to farming, greatly improved the land, and on the grant are still found small apple-trees that grew from those set out by him in 1706. The seeds for these trees were brought by Captain Adams when he returned from one of his voyages. Tradition relates that while bringing them from the ship his oxen stopped in the ford at Cart Creek, and the captain, in a discouraged mood said: "I would rather dump the seeds in this cart into the creek than to put them in the ground." He changed his mind, however, and became a very successful farmer.

After Captain Adams' marriage to Anne Longfellow, he promised to give up his life on the sea and devote his time to farming. Whether with this he made a mental reservation is not known, but in his shipyard half a mile away he afterwards built several vessels and engaged in a coasting-trade. Unlike the other farmers of the day, the products of his farm were carried to New Orleans and other ports and bartered for rice and molasses. The old shipyard can still be seen, but the vessels have long ago disappeared. The narrow river winding to the sea shows little space for shipping, and even in its most prosperous days it was necessary to launch the rudely built ships sidewise.

Plate XXXV.—The Adams House, Newbury, Massachusetts.

The old house is still standing. Some of the original shingles and clapboards, covering a solid wall of home-made bricks, are still in a good state of preservation, especially on the west end. The innovation of a modern porch has added to rather than detracted from the pleasing appearance of the house. The diamond paned windows that were imported from England have been removed. Inside, the smoothly finished beams, the great fireplaces with panelled sides, the heavy doors, the broad, low steps, the fine woodwork in staircase and mantel, all speak of former pride and prosperity.

Many an ancient legend is related concerning this old dwelling. Under the attic eaves is still shown a bunk known as Booth's bin, on account of an Indian slave by that name who for many years slept in it. Many years ago David Adams, while on a visit to Deny, New Hampshire, took with him a slave who became suddenly ill. No regular physician could be secured who was willing to attend him, so a cow doctor was called. He advised a hot bath. As nothing could be found large enough for the bath, an old dug-out was dragged up from the river, pitched, and filled with boiling water, into which the negro was unceremoniously thrust but escaped with his life.

During a fire that occurred in this house sometime during the residence of Abraham Adams, this slave wished to aid in putting it out, he rushed up over the stairs to cut a hole in the roof with a hatchet. The hatchet was dull and the roof was high, so he battered it with his head until a hole was made.

Somewhere on the bridle-path that led to the house in the early days of its occupancy there lived for a time a little band of twenty-five Indians, many of whom died there. One beautiful day in the early spring Mother Anne sauntered down the lane and strolled across the fields, as was her custom, to sit down outside the wigwam and chat with the old squaw. She was all alone, as Quanto, the brave, was absent attending to work around the place. Soon the old squaw stirred up the blaze of the camp-fire and set the kettle on to boil, making ready for the return of her husband for the midday meal. She put in beef and turnips, for it was before the days of potatoes. The smell of the savory stew was most appetizing, and Mother Anne, who had been often urged to partake of the Indian hospitality, decided this time to accept. Suddenly a slight rustle in the branches caused her to turn her head, and there by her side stood the brave, Quanto, who had come out silently from the shadows. His blankets were cast aside, and twined around his arm and shoulder was a big black snake which he held by its head. With the characteristic grunt of the Indian he saluted his guest, then stepping quickly forward, he removed the cover of the kettle with his left hand and with his right threw the writhing snake into the stew. Needless to say, Mother Anne's important household duties called her home before the meal was ready.

When the house was first built, the land was covered with forests which were afterwards felled. Since then many generations have ploughed and sowed the fields which, with incredible toil, were wrested from the wilderness. Six ponderous oxen and a pair of steers were attached to a massive wooden plough, on which rode a man and boy; the stronger of the two held the plough upright. Thus were the sods turned and the fields prepared.