s before and after the death of his sister, Mr. Whittier spent
some days each summer at Appledore. It was at his insistence that Celia
Thaxter undertook her charming book, "Among the Isles of Shoals."

[Illustration: HAMPTON RIVER MARSHES]

Other ballads of this region are "The Changeling," and "The New Wife
and the Old." The ancient house which is the scene of the last named
poem is still standing, and may be seen by passengers on the Boston and
Maine road, near the Hampton station. It has a gambrel roof, and is on
the left when the train is going westward. On the right as the train
passes Hampton Falls station may be seen in the distance, shaded by
magnificent elms, the house of Miss Gove, in which Whittier died. It
was upon these broad meadows and the distant line of the beach that his
eyes rested, when he took his last look upon the scenery he loved and
has so faithfully pictured in his verse. The photographs here
reproduced were taken by his grandnephew a few days before his death,
and the last time he stood on the balcony where his form appears. The
room in which he died opens upon this balcony. It was his cousin,
Joseph Cartland, who happened to stand by his left side when the
picture was taken. This house is worthy of notice aside from its
connection with Whittier, as one of the finest specimens of colonial
architecture, its rooms filled with the furniture and heirlooms of the
ancestors of the present proprietor. A trolley line from Amesbury now
passes the house.

[Illustration: HOUSE OF MISS GOVE, HAMPTON FALLS]

[Illustration: CHAMBER IN WHICH WHITTIER DIED]

As a coincidence that was at the time considered singular, the
superstition in regard to the matter of thirteen at table was recalled
when Whittier dined for the last time with his friends. During the
summer he had lodged at the house of Miss Gove, taking his meals with
others of his party in a house adjoining. One evening all had taken
their places at the table except Mr. Whittier. His niece noticed there
were twelve seated, and without comment took her plate to a small table
in a corner of the room. When her uncle came in, he said in a cheery
way, "Why, Lizzie, what has thee been doing, that they put thee in the
corner?" Some evasive reply was made, but probably Mr. Whittier guessed
the reason, for he was well versed in such superstitions, and sometimes
laughingly heeded them. In a few minutes, Mr. Wakeman, the Baptist
clergyman of the village, jus