and in 1800 completed the first piano made in America. He continued the manufacture of pianos for some time, until other enterprises claimed his erratic fancy, when he sold the piano business to Allen & Babcock, who built a factory upon Washington Street, Boston. This came later into the hands of Chickering & Mackey, who lost the factory by fire early in the nineteenth century, after which Chickering alone continued the business, establishing that immense factory still standing on Tremont Street, and now known as Chickering & Son.

Becoming interested in a student of Milton Academy, who had lost a leg in the War of 1812 and sought an education to enable himself to gain a livelihood, Crehore decided to furnish him a substitute for the lost limb. After some experimenting, he succeeded in making a jointed leg, which proved to be an efficient aid to the unfortunate

soldier-student. This was the first artificial limb made in the new world.

A short distance beyond Mattapan Square on the Blue Hill Parkway is the Leopold Morse Home, founded in 1888 under the title of Boston Home for Aged and Infirm Hebrews. In 1894 the name was changed in honor of the founder, when it was decided to gradually convert the institution into an orphanage. Although supported in the main by the Jewish societies of Greater Boston, the home has received many endowments from prominent members of Hebrew families.

Another institution, supported by the charity of Milton residents, is the Milton Convalescent's Home and Hospital at East Milton, where the poorest Milton residents are treated free of charge and accommodation is also given to those more fortunate citizens who are able and do pay well for care. Situated upon rising ground, with its tennis

courts, croquet grounds, and extensive woodland pathways, this Home has proved a godsend to many a tired mother and ailing child.

Milton contains quarries of fine granite, with all her other industries. Mr. P. T. Maguire, who has just completed that beautiful Pilgrim Monument which is attracting so much attention at Provincetown, shipped the finest stones used in its construction from his Milton quarry.

G. H. Bent's cracker bakery at East Milton is a very interesting factory of its kind, for here the little water cracker so well known to every housekeeper is baked in the selfsame manner employed by Mr. Bent's ancestor, Josiah Bent, who made the first crackers in America at his home on Highland Street, Milton, in 1801, later establishing the factory now owned by the National Buscuit Company at the corner of Central Avenue and Elliot Street. Old Dutch ovens are heated by burning in each a bundle of fagots bought at two cents from Milton boys, who

gather them from the woodlands, after which the floors of the ovens are thoroughly washed with soft water, then covered with the little crackers, which are made entirely from flour and water.

But the man who really "cuts the most ice" in Milton is J. A. Turner, whose estate numbering 75 acres is situated upon Central Avenue. The pretty pond in the rear of his residence makes a pleasant variation in the landscape during the warmer seasons, and, aided by Jack Frost, yields a rich harvest during the winter months.

Down among the shops, stores, and factories at Milton Lower Mills an old house still maintains its original position and form, although it has watched the decay and destruction of every comrade of its youth. A marble slab near its weather-beaten entrance tells the story of this, the cradle of our liberty. The inscription follows:

"In this mansion, on the 9th September, 1774, at the meeting of the delegates of every town and district

in the County of Suffolk, the memorable Suffolk Resolves were adopted. They were reported by Maj.-Gen. Joseph Warren, who fell in their defense in the battle of Bunker Hill, June 17th, 1775. They were approved by the members of the Continental Congress at Carpenter's Hall, Philadelphia, on Sept. 17th. 1774. The resolves to which the immortal Patriot here first gave utterance, and the heroic deeds of that eventful day on which he fell, led the way to American Independ

ence.

"Posterity will acknowledge that virtue which preserved them free and happy."

This house, built by Daniel Vose, is probably the oldest building in Milton, still preserved in its original design. The old Churchill house on Adams Street at the head of Churchill's Lane was built in 1740, but has been modernized until very little of its original architecture remains.

A large family of Gullivers once lived at Algerine Corner, now Union Square, East Milton; one of these while visiting England told great stories of the new world to Dean Swift. It is claimed that Swift drew his inspiration for "Gulliver's Travels" from these exaggerated tales.

At the corner of Canton Avenue and Vose Lane stands the house where Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney spent the greater part of her married life. All of those books which have delighted the hearts of girls, as well as grown people, were written here. Shortly before her death in March, 1906, her last book entitled "Biddy's Episodes" was published. Mrs. Carolyn Leslie Fields, her daughter, also a noted author, lived here.

This same house was once the home of that noted soldier, Major-General E. V. Sumner, for whom was named the Milton Post, G. A. R.

The orator Wendell Phillips was a resident of Milton and now sleeps in the Milton Cemetery, as also does Dr. William Rimmer, the artist.

Near the residence of A. H. Hobson, on Brook Road, stands the oldest elm

tree in Milton. Its girth one yard from the ground is over twelve feet. A red oak near the home of F. E. Sanford is over seventeen feet in circumference at the same height.

Two banks find support in Milton, a savings bank and the Blue Hill National Bank. Mr. Samuel Gannett is president, whose board of directors includes several of the most successful business men of both Dorchester and Milton Lower Mills.

An enterprising little weekly newspaper, edited by Charles F. Marden and known as the "Milton Record," occupies a part of the same building in which the banks are located.

The Blue Hills of Milton are too well known to require a description here. Much has been written regarding their attractions. They have proved an inspiration to many able writers, but so varied and indescribable are the beauties seen from their summit that endless efforts on the part of the scribe would still leave a fresh subject for his successor. From the top of Great Blue Hill one hundred and twenty-five towns may be identified by a building, light, or mountain, with the aid of a glass, which is able to pierce the horizon for sixty-eight miles inland, as well as reveal the lights on Cape Ann, forty miles seaward. This fact is the more remarkable when one learns that this elevation is only 635 feet above sea level, yet the highest point within ten miles of the coast, from southern Maine to Florida.

Many people believe that the Meteorological Observatory on the peak of Great Blue Hill is the property of the state, like the surrounding lands which were secured to the public in 1894. This impression is erroneous, for Mr. A. Lawrence Rotch, Meteorological Director of Harvard College, established this observatory in 1885 at his own expense, maintaining it since that time at a cost of $4000 a year. Mr. Rotch's residence on Canton Avenue in the shadow of the hill which bears the monument of his scientific research, is one of the many beautiful homes of this section.

THE pup-old Mingo's successor

T

-was asleep on the wolf-rug before the fire, too tired with play and his night's lesson with the sheep to more than raise his velvety head, beat a thump or two on the floor with his tail and then, getting a word of comradeship, to sink back into dreamland with a sigh of contentment.

Glen drew up a great, leather armchair to the fire, lit a pipe, and with his feet on the fender, took up his uninterrupted train of reflection.

He knew so well every rod, every foot of the outlying territory, that in his mind, seated snugly by the fire, he could journey here and there, seeing every physical object for miles around as vividly as though actually visiting them. Idly he peopled all the wellknown localities with the scenes of his boyhood, but wherever he went Constance, the chum of his youth, was present.

He winced a little as he thought how seldom he had dwelt upon her and her fortune during the year and a half prior to his experiences in the city; how utterly, almost, he had permitted her, his old-time playmate, to drift out of his mind. He wondered if she had been lonesome, had cared at all. He tried to put himself in his old-time relation with her as girl and boy, content in each other's company, playing over the meadows and vales and to conjure if, perhaps, that playmate comradeship might have ripened in her bosom to a fonder sentiment for him.

He sighed deeply over the problem of his position and leaned forward to rap the ashes from his pipe onto the hearth. The pup unclosed his deep,

sentimental eyes and whacked the rug companionably with his bushy tail.

Glen smiled down upon him. "Men are strange creatures," he said meditatively, and the tail thumped twice or thrice. "Selfish and inhuman where their hearts are concerned," he continued, laying his hand on the silken head, and the dog kissed the straying fingers with his moist, velvety tongue.

And yet, as he settled back into the depths of his chair, Glen felt no selfaccusement in his heart because, between his mind's eye and the mental picture of the fair face and form of his old-time playmate, gentle and trustful, matured to sweetest fullness of young womanhood, the face and figure of another for a moment intervened: because, for an instant, he heard again the swish of a silken robe, felt the fragrance of dark, wavy hair and saw the bright eyes and crimson, pursed lips of her living anthesis.

For Glen knew, as well as he knew right from wrong, that the infatuation. he had thought true love, which he had borne for that other, was as dead in his heart, as beyond resurrection as a flower consumed to dead ash in the flame.

He would still admire her and treasure her memory; there would still be the charm of her voice in his thoughts of her; her manner, her appearance, her winning accomplishments would dwell with him. He foresaw, he thought, and that without an atom of regret, that the time would soon come when Jessica, her greater self conquering, would come to love her husband wholly and well-when children should be laid in her arms and when the dreams of her