County is "Ferncroft Inn," located on the old Boxford road. The views from the piazzas are unsurpassed in diversity and grandeur. It would indeed puzzle the heads of our modern architects should they attempt to duplicate the architectural designs of this ancient structure that was erected in 1692, with low ceilings and heavy oak cross beams that

eye in the dining room. The front of the inn is an exact imitation of the home of Ann Hathaway.

At a bend of the road we come upon a sign used in the beginning of the last century at the old tavern in Topsfield, kept by William Ready. On one side of the sign is a portrait of George Washington, on the other, that of John Quincy Adams.

"The Boynton Tavern" in old Newbury was presided over by a most eccentric man. One of his sons, who was born while the tavern was being torn down, was named Tearing. The second son, coming when an addition to the new inn was under way, received the name of Adding. Mr. Boynton was the inventor of the first silk reel. Groves of mulberry trees were set out in different parts of Byfield, furnishing proper food for the worms. With Tearing and Adding, these groves grew in size and beauty. Several of the trees are in a flourishing condition on a Byfield farm at the present time.

The "West Parish" of Boxford boasted for many years an old tavern that was erected in 1776, where the militia met to be reviewed. The fine country inn, now located in the "East Parish" was refitted from an old tavern, by Deacon Parker Spofford. Here the first post office was kept, mails being brought by the stage coach. The mails were taken to the church and distributed by Mr. Spofford to the people living at a distance. Even in those days the good deacons used drawing cards. for church services, it seems.

In the town of Danvers stands the old "Berry Tavern" originally built in 1741. This public house has been maintained continuously from that time, being at the present day a thoroughly equipped hotel. Could

we, for a short time, bring before us pictures of the young farmers on their way to Boston from all parts of New England, on their jumpers, or long sleds, where were heaped the corn, grain, bundles of yarn, homespun cloth, etc., which were to be exchanged for other merchandise; of the severe storms they encountered, making them willing prisoners for a while at these hospitable houses; of the buxom lasses met and oft times made the partner of their joys; and of the merry-makings in the long winter evenings,would not all this compare favorably with the present mode of enjoyment of our young people, and does it not make us wish for a glimpse of some oldtime inn? for:

"No longer the host hobbles down from his rest

In the porch's cool shadows to welcome his guest

With a smile of delight and a grasp of the hand,

And a glance of the eye that no heart could withstand.

"When the long rains of Autumn set in from the west,

The mirth of the landlord was broadest and best;

And the stranger who paused over night never knew

If the clock on the mantel struck ten or struck two.

"Oh. the songs they would sing and the tales they would spin

As they lounged in the light of the old fashioned inn;

But a day came at last when the stage brought no load

To the gate, as it rolled up the long dusty road."

IN

N those days my father often sent home to us boys rather queer presents. It was just after the war, and he was "travelling" for "Kip and Kidd,"boot and shoe people, with whom he was later joined in partnership. My mother had died, two years before, leaving Eph and me to the home-care of Mother's unmarried sister Lydia. She was a faithful, loving aunt to us, but very sensitive and timid, and I fear that some of our pranks seriously shook her nerves.

My own preference, in the way of boyish possessions, was for books, curios, stamps, birds' eggs and the like such objects as would "stay where you put them"; so I said to Eph; but he scorned my "dead things," and was most pleased with pets, and live creatures of all sorts. So that while Father at times sent me rare stamps, or a book, or a stuffed bird, or an Indian relic, he was more likely to send Eph some boxed-up live insect or animal, like a bird, or a pair of guinea pigs, or-as once happened two live chameleons.

These presents from Father, whobest of fathers-seemed always to have us in mind, though hundreds of miles away, brought dismay to nervous Aunt Lydia, but filled our youthful hearts with joy, and made us the envy of our schoolmates. So were a little surprised, but not

we

alarmed, when one day a telegram came from New Orleans:

"Have sent alligator by express. Do not be afraid. FATHER."

Well, we were not exactly afraid, but we felt a certain amount of perplexity and anxiety. I had read about ferocious alligators, and how they seized animals or human beings at the brink of some river or lake, and dragged them into the muddy depths; and sometimes they snatched boat-men from boats, or overturned the boats themselves; and then what chance had a man, when in the water with them! So we were eager but uneasy. As for Aunt Lydia, she stood speechless for five minutes, when she read the telegram, and then trembled so that she had to go and sit down in the big arm-chair, where she continued to sit,—removing and wiping and replacing her spectacles on her peaked nose at least five times.

There was, however, another member of our household, who must here be mentioned. It was Uncle Zack, Aunt Lydia's brother; he was by occupation a farmer, or had been one in earlier life, and now came to us on occasional visits. We boys never enjoyed Unzle Zack, partly because he was always preaching to us on our conduct, and lecturing to us on themes which interested him far

more than they did us, and partly because we were expected to black his old-fashioned leather boots, reaching nearly to the knees and pulling on by stout leather straps at the sides.

He was a tall, gaunt man of sixty, with a bald, dome-like head, fringed with greenish-white tufts of hair. He wore spectacles, and stooped as he walked. Slow in movement and impressive in speech, he believed himself an oracle; whereas I fear he was rather a walking dictionary, and a rheumatic one, at that. In other words, he had much learning, but very little practical sense. He knew a great many book-things, but always failed to connect them with daily human needs.

Such, at least, is my judgment of him, as I now recall him, after thirty years have passed away. Possibly this opinion may have been reached by me without sufficient ground, but at least one definite bit of evidence comes up vividly before me as I write. That was during one of Uncle Zack's earlier visits to us, when he explained to us boys the law of centrifugal motion, and led the way, in a lordly fashion, out into the kitchen, where our colored cook, Susannah, was baking. There he laid hold of a two-quart pail nearly full of milk, and,-despite alarmed Susannah's protests, warning her grandly back with one arm, with the other he set the pail in motion, swinging it, and finally attempting to revolve it, at arm's length, around his head. I remember that he was just saying how simple the experiment was, and that he had done it several times, with

out spilling a drop, when-bang! The pail struck the gas-bracket, nearly over his head, and down came the white torrent over him and over Susannah's clean floor. His theory was all right, but he failed to apply it to existing conditions, and he had to go dripping to his quarters in the back-parlor, leaving a trail of milk behind him all the way.

So when Uncle Zack, in turn, was handed the alligator telegram, he read and re-read it, as if it had been a Chinese manuscript, and difficult to decipher. He never allowed himself to be caught off his guard,-always held himself up to every occasion, however unexpected. So he presently turned to his sister, and spoke in his loftiest and most reassuring tone. "Lyddy, don't get flustered! I never get flustered. Getting flustered shortens the life, by increasing the heart-beats, and wearing it out before its time. I have read "

He was going off on some medical studies of his younger days, but recalled himself. "As for this alligator, Robert doubtless has some plan about keeping him, or or he wouldn't have sent him. There is Hillside Park. They have animals. Very likely the creature is to be sent there." Then he turned toward us boys and started on a lecture about the alligator and his points of variation from the crocodile; but Eph and I bolted for the door, and left him to make his speech to Aunt Lydia.

Two days later the expressman brought the alligator. We ex

pected to see him unload a huge box, or perhaps tank, requiring several men to carry it. We had darkly implied this to the other boys. But, instead, the expressman came gaily skipping up the walk, bearing his big record-book in one hand, and a box, not half so large, in the other.

The box contained our alligator. It was a wooden box, perhaps ten inches long, four wide, and four deep, with a bit of wire screen over one end. The alligator was alive, stared at us out of his filmy, expressionless eyes, and occasionally emitted a little sound like the squeak of a small French doll. His long tail looked so much like a handle that we used it as such, and transferred the sluggish creature to the bath-tub, experimentally, and later to a small hand-tub.

Of course all the neighbors were eager to see the little reptile, but they were manifestly disappointed when they gazed upon his diminutive scaly form, in the front parlor, by the window, where we kept him most of the time for readier exhibition. Our boy-friends tempted him with flies and worms and pieces of raw meat, but nobody ever saw the shy little saurian eat. I think he did eat, however, but in the night. He was much more active after night-fall than during the day. He developed an unexpected degree of agility also, during the night. Usually he seemed sluggish and sleepy; but sometimes after dark, we could hear him splashing in the shallow water of his tub, and often, when we brought a light sud

denly near, he leaped away from it very actively.

Uncle Zack professed to have no fear whatever of the uncanny creature, but I noticed that he never touched him; he often looked on sagely, as Eph deftly handled him, and generally contributed information about the reptile's nature and habits. One day, when a neighbor came in to see the little beast, Eph put him down on the floor, and he lay still, as usual. Uncle Zack was laboriously unloading some of his learning about the "genus" and "species" to which the reptile belonged, when I noticed that "Allie" (as we boys had come to call him) had twisted around, and was walking across the room, in the general direction of my reverend Uncle's slippered feet. Uncle Zack, absorbed in his monologue, did not notice the movement, and was just confuting Cuvier or some other naturalist, when "Allie" reached one of his feet, and proceeded to climb. over it. When the little reptile's claws pricked through Uncle Zack's thin sock, the owner thereof forgot both his learning and his dignity, and with some emphatic interjection, sprang to his feet and showed a disposition to even step up into his chair. But he quickly mastered his trepidation, and went on, as well as he could, with his lecture. He seemed relieved, however, when Eph picked up the scaly little monster and popped him back into his tub.

Father did not return from his Southern trip for several weeks. There was no need for his presence,