trees, which were originally black ash, a tree very rare in this part of New England. Many of these ash trees have died from age, and their places have been supplied by elms and maples. Two high posts of granite mark the entrance to the avenue, which extends for about two hundred feet to the door of the house. Opposite, across the narrow country road, a hill overlooks the village, and gives a fine view of the winding river, and distant mountains. A solitary. poplar crowns the summit of the hill, and affords a landmark to the river-voyager, as it can be seen for miles up and down the stream. A romantic legend is connected with this tree, about a party of young girls who were at school in the Old Manse, each of whom caused a tree to be set out, and called by her name. Year by year, the girls and trees grew up together in grace and beauty. At length, one by one, the old ladies died, and the trees died too, until one very old lady and this old weather-beaten poplar alone remained. The lady for whom the surviving poplar was named, has gone to her rest, and the tree seems likely to follow before long.

The large field at the left of the Old Manse, which divides it from the battle-ground, was, centuries ago, the site of an Indian village, and often rough arrows and spear-heads have been turned up by the plough.

The savages probably chose this gentle slope by the river for the sake of the fish with which it then abounded, for the earlier settlers report a plentiful supply of shad and salmon, where now poor little breams and horn-pouts alone tempt the idle fisherman. Behind the house there extends to the river an ancient orchard of apple trees, which is in itself a monument of energy and faith, for it was set by the hoaryheaded old minister, for the benefit of his descendants; but at the age of ninety he enjoyed a rich harvest to repay him for his disinterested labors. The house, built by him in the year 1765, and occupied by him the next year after his marriage to a daughter of the Rev. Daniel Bliss, with the exeeption of a few years when it was occupied by Hawthorne, has always been the home of ministers and the descendants of the builder. Nearly all the old New England ministers have been entertained under its roof, and many questions affecting the beliefs of the age have been here discussed and settled. The room in which this article is written, was the study of the Rev. Ezra Ripley, who married the widow of the builder of the home, and here thousands of sermons have doubtless been written. It is a small, square room with high wainscot and oaken beams overhead, with a huge fire-place where four-foot sticks used to burn on great, high, brass andirons.

It was in this room, too, that the ghost used to appear, according to Hawthorne, but it probably only existed in his brilliant imagination. Often, on a winter night, the latch of the old door has lifted without human help, and a gust of cold wind has swept into the room.

Opposite the study, is a larger room, which is modernized by rare photographs and recent adornments, and is used as a parlor by its present owners, the grandchildren of the original proprietors. From this apartment a door opens into the ancient dining-room, in which the old-time ministers held their solemn feasts, and it is said that they were well able to appreciate the good cheer which covered the long table that nearly filled the narrow hall. In one corner of this room stands a tall clock, looking across at its life-long companion, the ancient desk of Dr. Ripley; and a set of curious, old, high-backed chairs recall the days of our upright ancestors.

Opposite this room is a big kitchen with its enormous fire-place, which twenty-five years ago was used wholly by the present occupants for all purposes of cooking. The hooks which held the long, iron crane on which the pots and kettles hung still remain, although a modern cooking stove occupies the chief part of the broad hearth.

The Old Manse was the principal house of the

PAUL H. HAYNE.

OHN HAYNE, of Hayne Hall, Shropshire, was

JOHN

the honest and sturdy name of the most prominent of the English gentry from whom Paul H. Hayne counts his honorable descent. What doughty deeds brightened the records of the English family of Haynes there is no need to seek; for, in America, we do not care to sail across the Atlantic in search of knightly or courtly chronicles, so long as we can look at the reputation won by those members of any family whose names have become a part of our own history.