Mr. Jones' house,' he continued, addressing grandmother, ‘and I did it for a purpose, as has been well shown. I trust we may go there again, when these curs of the false young King are out of the way.

"We must go, indeed,' he added, straightening himself hastily. 'Here little Elizabeth'-he held out to me something that glistened in the sunlight-take this, in memory of to-day. "Tis a medal that I had from the Lord Protector himself, and so of priceless value, though worth but little as metal. Keep it until you are old and gray, like me, and when you look upon it think of the two wanderers saved from death by you, through the Providence of God.'

"His voice faltered as he finished, and his eyes were full of tears when he stooped and kissed me once more. Then Colonel Goffe kissed me, too, the first and only time.

"All that Colonel Whalley hath said I feel, too,' said Colonel Goffe, in his deep voice, and if God in his mercy. shall ever restore us to fortune again, Elizabeth Allerton shall command me for whatever services I can give.'

"Then, with a hurried farewell to my grandmother, the two colonels departed, taking the Neck road leading to Hartford."

Madam Eyres' eyes again sought the fire, and the children were so impressed by her silence that their gaze sought the same direction. The great logs had crumbled into ruins now, and there were only glowing coals in place of bright flames. Whistling shrilly, the wind seemed to mourn for the death of the fire, and the children instinctively drew closer together.

"Did you ever see the colonels again?" asked Simon, at last.

"Never again," replied his mother, in a low voice, still gazing into the fireplace. There is a wonderful story about how Colonel Goffe appeared at Hadley, in Massachusetts, and saved the settlers there from defeat by the Indians, about which I may one day tell you. But, mercy on us, children,' she exclaimed, peering at the big clock

that solemnly ticked in the corner of the room," 'tis nearly ten o'clock, and nine is your bedtime!"

Lydia jumped up. "Mother," she cried, "may I not get the medal before we go?"

Her mother nodded and Lydia went across the room to a cabinet, returning soon with an oval wooden case. Opening it, she took out the silver medal and held it up to the flickering light of the candle. On one side was a profile of Cromwell, with the inscription: WORD AT

SEPTEM.

On the reverse side of the medal was a representation of the House of Commons, mons, in assembly. This medal, though neither Madam Eyres nor the children knew it, was one of the best works works of the renowned medallist, Thomas Simon. History seemed very near and very real to the children as their fingers touched the medal, because of what Madam Eyres had related.

"Mother," said Simon, gazing on the effigy of the Protector, "do you think Cromwell was a tyrant and a selfseeker, as some say?"

Madam Eyres' eyes kindled. "Nay, my son," she answered with animation. "The world has not yet begun to know what Oliver Cromwell was and did. Usurper and tyrant they call him—but was ever power used more wisely or more justly than he used it? He gained and held the power of a king, but he sought not place or power for selfish ends. Since the days of Alfred the Great there has been no such man in England!"

"But, mother," began Lydia, touching lightly the hair of little Benjamin, who had fallen fast asleep during Madam Eyres' narration, "do you think your grandmother was quite honest when she told the pursuivants-"

"Good gracious!" cried Madam Eyres, suddenly starting to her feet, "tis half past ten o'clock! Not another word from one of you get to bed!"

T

HE Rockland of which we are writing is a Massachusetts town situated half way between Boston and Plymouth-that is, about twenty miles from each cityon the Hanover branch of the New York, New Haven and Hartford Railroad.

It is a rapidly growing community with a present population of about seven thousand persons whose principal support is the great shoe factories located there, an industry in which Rockland excels. Although Although under its present name it has no place in early New England history, as a portion of the ancient town of Abington its story goes back to the colonial

era.

The territory now known as Rockland is that part of the old Plymouth Bay Colony known as the Hatherly grant. It was King Phillip's ground (its Indian designation was Mannamooskeagan, or Many Beavers) and

throughout the seventeenth century remained unbroken wilderness, a part of the dark forest into whose terrifying shadows the matrons of Plymouth gazed with unutterable dread. The district was not even on the way from anywhere to anywhere in Colonial geography nor did any important Indian trails lead to or through it. And it was the timber value of its vast forests of oak and pine, rather than the fertility of its soil, that finally led to its settlement-that and the existence of a usable water-power, so that from the beginning it was more of a manufacturing than of an agricultural community. Still there are some very good farms in the neighborhood, and the Bay State Nursery Company have selected the district for their plantations which are among the finest as well as most extensive in the country.

The heart of the town is the highest point in Plymouth County. It is a gradual and sightly eminence now oc

cupied by some very creditable public buildings and attractive residences. A view from any upper window at this vantage point shows the surrounding country to be well wooded with second growth timber and very well provided with ponds, no less than five of which, natural or artificial, lie within the borders of the town. The spires and roofs of five villages may be seen on the horizon and the highways are wide, level and well kept. Rockland has a highway commissioner who is "making good."

It would be difficult to find a more typical New England community than

Rockland of to-day. Its most notable expression historically was in the great abolitionist meetings at Island Grove, which is on the borders of Rockland. In that lovely spot, which is well worth a special pilgrimage to see, Wendell Phillips used to draw vast congregations (as many as twenty thousand, it is said) to listen to his eloquent anti-slavery arguments. Although conservative old Abington Center did not take kindly to these demonstrations and and rather looked upon them as a disgrace to the community, the East Abington or Rockland district gave them hearty sup

Rockland. Its elms are of the finest and its town meeting is the real thing. The population is prevailingly American, either of the old Yankee type or of the Irish-American type, that gives us some of the best blood of the New England of to-day. The older families are descended from the original proprietors who were mostly Hingham, Weymouth, and Scituate people.

That entire district, as close readers of New England history know, has had from very early times a very marked strain of radicalism. And this spirit is quite pronounced in the

port. It is strange how each succeeding generation crowns with laurels the "disgraceful" radicalism of its predecessors while it still exalts its own conservatism and heaps obloquy upon its own radicals.

It is not surprising with this powerful awakening of the great antislavery meetings at its very door that Rockland should have been intensely loyal to the Union cause in the Civil War. No town of its population in Massachusetts sent a larger quota of men to the front. The factories were depleted. Manufacturing was at a

standstill, proprietors as well as mechanics joining the ranks.

This fact makes it exceedingly fitting that the town public library, a new and beautiful building, should be inscribed as a memorial to the soldiers and sailors of the great struggle for the Union. While a generous gift from Mr. Carnegie hastened the erection of this excellent building, the town at its own expense bore a very considerable portion of the burden, making it a true memorial of the town to those who served in a cause to which it was so deeply and earnestly committed.

be at cross purposes and the wisdom of the movement is abundantly witnessed by the subsequent prosperity of the new town.

As previously stated, the principal occupation of the people of the town is the manufacture of shoes, and the history of the shoe industry of the district is Rockland history just as much (perhaps more so in a true estimate of the worth of things) as the battles in which her heroes may have played their part.

It was as early as 1800 that Darius J. Cobb, Thomas Hunt and others began to manufacture shoes in the town

It was not until 1874 that Rockland became a separate town. Although the incident which led to the separation seems somewhat trivial, having to do with the amount expended in the erection of a school building, it was an incident only and served to bring to a definite head a movement that was practically bound to come. Rockland was quite a separate community and one with a very strong spirit of local self-government. The participation of other parts of the town in its affairs and its participation in theirs was almost certain to

ship of Abington. In 1826 Asaph Dunbar organized the industry on a larger scale and his boots and shoes were of the very highest quality according to the standards of the time. The industry seems to have flourished and to have been particularly inviting to the more enterprising citizens of the place, for up to the year 1860 it appears that there were eighty-two firms engaged in the manufacture of shoes within the borders of the town.

It is interesting to note that Rockland manufacturers were the first in New England to market shoes in the