ittier told me that his old
schoolmate was a nephew of the last person usually accounted a witch in
this neighborhood. She was the wife of Moses Chase of Rocks Village.
Her relatives believed her a witch, and one of her nieces knocked her
down in the shape of a persistent bug that troubled her. At that moment
it happened that the old woman fell and hurt her head. The old lady on
one occasion went before Squire Ladd, the blacksmith and Justice of the
Peace at the Rocks, and took her oath that she was not a witch.

[Illustration: JOSHUA COFFIN

"Olden teacher, present friend,
Wise with antiquarian search,
In the scrolls of State and Church;
Named on history's title-page,
Parish-clerk and justice sage."
TO MY OLD SCHOOLMASTER]

We next visited the scene of "In School Days," and found some traces of
the schoolhouse that have since been obliterated, although a tablet now
marks its site. The door-stone over which the scholars "went storming
out to playing" was still there, and some of the foundation stones were
in place. "Around it still the sumachs" were growing, and blackberry
vines were creeping. Mr. Whittier gathered a handful of the red sumach,
and took it to Amesbury with him. It remained many days in a vase in
his "garden room." Speaking of his boyhood, he said he was always glad
when it came his turn to stay at home on First Day. The chaise, driven
to Amesbury--nine miles--every First and Fifth Day, fortunately was not
of a capacity to take the whole family at once. This gave him an
occasional opportunity, much enjoyed, to spend the day musing by the
brook, or in the shade of the oaks and hemlocks on the breezy hilltops,
which commanded a view unsurpassed for beauty. These hills, which so
closely encompass the ancient homestead at the west and south, are
among the highest in the county. From them one gets glimpses of the
ocean in Ipswich Bay, the undulating hills of Newbury, cultivated to
their tops, on the further side of the Merrimac, the southern ranges
of the New Hampshire mountains, and the heights of Wachusett and
Monadnock in Massachusetts. Po Hill, in Amesbury, under which stands
the Quaker meeting-house where his parents worshiped, shows its great
round dome in the east. He never tired of these views, and celebrated
them in many of his poems. He especially dreaded the winter drives to
meeting. Buffalo robes were not so plenty in those days as they became
a few years late