He was not alone in the endeavor to clear his name and reputation. About this time, 1612, William Phettiplace and Richard Potts, two of the sixty survivors of that horrible "Starving Time," published a statement in which they speak of Smith. These men did know and understand. They were no politicians or officeseekers; they desired no appointment from the London Company; they merely testified to the character of the man as they had seen him day by day.

"What shall I say? but this we lost him (4th Oct. 1609) that in all his proceedings made justice his first guide & experience his second; ever hating baseness, sloth, pride, & indignity more than any dangers; that never allowed more for himself than his souldiers with him; that upon no danger would send them where he would not lead them himself; that would never see us want what he either had, or could by any means get us; that would rather want than borrow or starve than not pay; that loved actions more than words, & hated falsehood & cozenage than death; whose adventures were our lives, & whose lives our deaths." A noble vindication truly.

In 1614, restored in health, his desire for an active life reasserted itself. He would not return to Virginia; the memory of wounds received in the house of his friends could not so soon be forgotten, but in the early spring days, in command of two small vessels, fitted out by some merchants of London, he sailed north of his old course to the land which he named New England. This was no colonizing expedition; perhaps Smith had had enough of that at present; gold, copper and whale fishing were his chief objects. He made a careful survey of the coast, and finding neither

gold nor copper, he wisely took the treasures within reach, fish and furs; of the latter an immense quantity. The map he made of New England he presented to Prince Charles, afterwards King Charles the First, who graciously accepted the gift, but changed many of the names. Thus, the Massachusetts cape that in calling Tragabigzanda Smith sought to perpetuate the name of his old love in Constantinople, the prince changed to Cape Ann. Cape James he altered to Cape Cod, and Accomack he changed to Plymouth. The name the prince left untouched was the group of three islands off Cape Ann, which still is known as the "Three Turks Heads," in memory of the three victories before the walls of Regall.

The following year, 1615, he again sailed for New England, and fell in with what appeared to be a pirate vessel, but these "pirates" were mostly who had English soldiers been stranded off the coast of Africa, had stolen the vessel and were making for home, and strange to say, many of them had served under Smith in the Transylvania wars. Smith was offered the command of the vessel, but it was for England that he labored and not for his own personal gain, so he declined the offer of his old soldiers and sailed away to encounter two other pirate ships, but from these he skillfully escaped, only to be captured by a French man of war. To be a prisoner was no novelty for Smith, so he philosophically spent his time in writing an account of his voyages to New England. When in France, many came to his aid, and he mentions Madame Chanoyes of Rochelle, with deep gratitude.

He returned home in December, 1615, and in June of the following year a bit of his old life drifted back to him. Six years had elapsed since he had been in Virginia. Pocahontas, then a child between ten and fourteen years of age, now developed into a blooming woman, had become the wife of John Rolfe, one of the colonists who at this time had returned to England with his bride. Upon learning this news, Smith in a long letter to her Majesty Queen Anne told how this Indian princess had repeatedly saved the colony in Virginia and often. at the risk of her own life,

"the lady Pocahontas hazarded the beating out of her owne braines to save mine; and not onely that, but so prevailed with her father, that * * had the salvages not fed us we directly had starved." So Smith paved the way for her favorable presentation at Court by Lady Delaware.

Poor Pocahontas, her life had been a sad one. Her friendship for the whites had antagonized her father and she had been forced to make her home with the King and Queen of the Potomacks, who had treacherously sold her to an Englishman, named Argall, for the price of a copper kettle, and she was carried a prisoner to Jamestown, where the English held her, their best friend, for a ransom, demanding from her father all the English fire arms in the possession of the Indians. Powhatan refused. The following year she had been married, and three years later came with her husband to visit England.

It was some time before Smith met Pocahontas in person; she had been told by his enemies that he was dead, yet it is evident that she and her father

had their doubts of the truth of this, for in her interview with Smith she said,

"they did tell us alwaies you were dead, and I knew no other till I came to Plimouth, yet Powhatan did command Vittamatomakkin to seeke you, and know the truth, because your countriemen will lie much."

Alas for the reputation of truth and honor among the colonists; in Smith alone the Indians had faith. And now her joy in this interview was great. "You did promise Powhatan what was yours should bee his, and he the like to you; you called him father being in his land a stranger, and by the same reason so must I doe you. * * Were you not afraid to come into my father's countrie and caused feare in him and all his people (but me); and feare you here I should call you father; I tell you then I will, and you shall call mee childe, and so I will bee for ever and ever your countrieman."

*

She had spoken truly, never again did she see the dusky faces of her own people; she had cast her lot with the English and on English soil she was to die, for when preparing to leave for Virginia, before her ship sailed, she fell a victim to consumption and the gentle spirit of this princess passed away. A little son she left behind her, Thomas Rolfe, whose descendants now are manifold in Virginia. Though the English blood has predominated and has almost wiped away all vestige of the Indian nature, yet it is with pride they trace their ancestry to this noble princess who so bravely aided John Smith to accomplish his great work.

About 1617, the Plymouth Company promised Smith the command of twenty ships to sail the following spring and spring and created him for life

Admiral of New England. But this hope of colonizing was never to be fulfilled. He offered to lead the Pilgrims to the land of promise, but their religious scruples hindered his desire. He was a Protestant of the Church of England, they, Puritans yearning for a freer land than England in which to worship God. Smith's record in Virginia showed that a cross, no matter how rude, had been erected by him in every place he visited in the New World, and the church at Jamestown bore witness of his faith. On that ground alone he was not permitted to be the captain of the Mayflower, although he met their ideals in every respect, as he was "from debts, wine, dice, and oaths so free." The Plymouth Company would tolerate no adherent of the Church of England as its founder in the new world, and the New England of which he had been created Admiral he was never to see again, and he who was so able with the sword at last fell back upon the mightier weapon of the pen.

John Smith had never married; no home ties had been his; only in early childhood had he known his parents' loving care; when they had died he eagerly fled from the apprenticeship of the merchant of Lynn, and for years his life had been that of the camp or the sea-strenuous, full of difficulties valiantly met and bravely conquered. And now at the age of thirty-eight, with fourteen years more of life before him, the years that might have been so full of active joy, were to hold for

him the bitter sickness of the heart that is known as hope deferred. To a man of his eager activities, with so much work to be done, and he so competent to do it, the restraint was

galling. But the full beauty of his life shone forth when, frustrated in every hope of employment, he did not allow his own sorrows to fill his horizon, but the clear eyes looked out across the sea to that wondrous new land that stood in need of him, and with a generosity and patient helpfulness that was so characteristic, aided others to accomplish the work he was not permitted to do.

In his own words he writes towards the end of his life

"Having been a slave to the Turks; prisoner among the most barbarous savages; after my deliverance commonly discovering & ranging those large rivers and unknown nations with such a handful of ignorant companions that the wiser sort often gave me up for lost; always in mutinies, wants, and miseries; blown up with gunpowder; a long time a prisoner among the French pirates, from whom escaping in a little boat by myself, and adrift all such a stormy winter night; when their ships were split, more than 100,000 lost which they had taken at sea, and most of them drowned upon the Isle of Rhe-not far from whence I was driven on shore, in my little boat, &c. And many a score of the worst winter months have (I) lived in the fields; yet to have lived near thirty seven years (1593-1630) in the midst of wars, pestilence, and famine, by which many a hundred thousand have died about me, and scarce five living of them that went first with me to Virginia, and yet to see the fruits of my labours that well begin to prosper (though I have but my labour for my pains) have I not much reason, both privately and publicly to acknowledge it, and give God thanks?"

Of his voyages he spoke most lovingly as his children, and from this time on till his death in 1631, he occupied his time in writing and distributing his writings through the south and west of England. The earnestness he displayed, the good sense and

practical views he advanced were strong influences in moulding the lives of many who were to make their home in America, and he showed that not "unruly gallants," but steadfast men were needed. His writings possessed in themselves no literary value; their importance lay in their power to turn the current of English thought in the right channel. Never again did England repeat her mistake of demanding that her colonists be forced to become manufacturers before they were capable of self-support or self-protection. The old idea which had hampered former discoverers and had ruined the success of other colonizers gradually gave way. Heretofore, unless the leaders of an enterprise could return with the material success of gold, or find a passage to the riches of China, all their other achievements were considered fruitless and many were misunderstood, misjudged and accounted failures. Smith was not only to be the first to securely establish the Anglo-Saxon race in America, but on his return to London, out of his rich

experience and clearsightedness he did a great work in helping to destroy the false theories of the English people and in preparing them to justly estimate the goodly heritage that lay before them.

And now, with three hundred years between his life and ours, with a truer perception and clearer vision we can appreciate the debt we owe to him, and this colonist of Virginia, this first Admiral of New England could have no fitter monument than the preservation of the old landmarks at Jamestown. The tides wash over the peninsula as they did of old, and unless means are soon taken to shut out the river, the water will claim every foot of this historic ground and all trace of the first successful colony will be swept away, and Jamestown remain only a memory, while its restoration would stand as a lasting expression of a nation's gratitude to the man whose indomitable courage, patience and sagacity shone forth most brilliantly when the future of that nation was obscured in darkest clouds.

TH

HE most modern hotels of the present day cannot compare in importance with the ordinaries or inns that were opened in the early settlement of our country, by order of the General Court, in every town under the direct jurisdiction of the minister and the tithing man. These worthies were given authority to enforce the laws that prohibited the inordinate sale of liquors. As the inns were often required by law to be situated next the meeting house, many a pleasant nooning did our ancestors spend before the hospitable fire; for scant comfort did the footstoves of our forefathers' time give during the long church services in the winter months.

The landlords were men of distinction, being often the local magistrates, and the walls of the inn were posted with items of interest, such as notices of town meetings, elections, new laws, bills of sale and auctions. With these exciting topics before them, the men of the town might sit before the great wood fire. and sip their toddy while discussing

the news.

The tavern in Ipswich was presided over in 1771 by no less a personage than the granddaughter of Governor Endicott, thus showing that some of the best families in New England were represented in this business, also showing that women were appointed innkeepers in many places by the advice of the General Court, so well did they perform their duties.

The business of inn-keeping was

not a particularly profitable one, as the sale of liquor was at times prohibited, no games were allowed, and the sale of cakes and buns forbidden. Small wonder that the town of Newbury was fined twice in those early days for inability to secure a person to open an ordinary. These houses. were primitive affairs, often having but two rooms and a lean-to. Comfort was not expected, and frequently travelers had difficulty in securing beds. One's dinner cost sixpence by order of the General Court, regardless of quality or quantity of food served, the landlord and his wife always acting as host and hostess at the table.

Among the signs that were ordered placed on conspicuous parts of the houses where was provided. "good entertainment for him who passes, horses, men, mares, and asses," was one representing a bust of General Wolfe, surrounded by a wreath of scroll work. It was carved by William Davenport of Newburyport, and was partially destroyed by the great fire that swept through that city in 1811, laying the principal part in ashes. A new sign was then painted by Samuel Cole to replace the original one, and it is still used at the same tavern. In Georgetown also, ten miles from Newburyport, a very ancient sign, bearing a portrait of General Wolfe, is in an excellent state of preservation. The house on which it originally hung was built twenty years after the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth. The original frame of the house still re