re baskets in which are packed hands of flax
from the barn, where, under the flaxbrake, the swingling knives and the
coarse hackle, the shives and swingling tow have been removed by the
men; to-morrow the more deft manipulations of the women will prepare
these bunches of fiber for the little wheel, and granny will card the
tow into bats, to be spun into tow yarn on the big wheel. All quaff the
sparkling cider or foaming beer from the briskly circulating pewter mug,
which the last out of bed in the morning must replenish from the barrel
in the cellar."

* * * * *

One notices the frequent reference to beer in these old chronicles. The
tea, over which the colonists were to take such a dramatic stand in a
hundred years, had not yet been introduced into England, and neither had
coffee. Forks had not yet made their appearance. In this admirable
picture Mr. Sheldon does not mention one of the evening industries
which was peculiarly characteristic of the Plymouth Colony. This was
the making of clapboards, which with sassafras and beaver skins,
constituted for many years the principal cargo sent back to England from
the Colony. Another point--the size of the families. The mother of
Governor William Phips had twenty-one sons and five daughters, and the
Reverend John Sherman had six children by his first wife and twenty by
his second. These were not uncommon figures in the early life of New
England; and with so many numbers within itself the home life was a
center for a very complete and variegated industrial life. Surely it is
a long cry from these kitchen fireplaces--so large that often a horse
had to be driven into the kitchen dragging the huge back log--these
immense families, to the kitchenette and one-child family of to-day!

This, then, was the old Duxbury: the Duxbury of long, cold winters,
privations, and austerity. Down by the shore to-day is the new
Duxbury--a Duxbury of automobiles, of business men's trains, of gay
society at Powder Point, where in the winter is the well-known boys'
school--a Duxbury of summer cottages, white and green along the shore,
green and brown under the pines. Of these summer homes many are new: the
Wright estate is one of the finest on the South Shore, and the pleasant,
spacious dwelling distinguished by its handsome hedge of English privet
formerly belonged to Fanny Davenport, the actress. Others are old
houses, very tastefully, almost affectionately remodele