Ruth of Boston: A Story of the Massachusetts Bay Colony

It is possible, and we shall do so when time can be spent in making luxuries, to get soap from the tallow of bay berry plums.

I have already said that we stew out a kind of vegetable tallow from bayberries with which to make candles, and this same grease, when boiled with lye as if you were making soft soap, can be cooked so stiff that, when poured into molds, it will form little hard cakes that are particularly convenient for the cleansing of one's hands.

There can be no question but that bayberry soap will whiten and soften the skin better than does soft soap; but the labor of making it is so disagreeable that, as Susan says, I had rather my hands were tough and rough, than purchase a delicate skin at such an expense.

GOOSE-PICKING

There is another household duty which frets me much, and yet it must be performed, else would we be put to it for quills with which to write, and for soft beds, pillows, and quilts. It is goose-picking that I abhor, not only because of its seeming extremely cruel, but on account of its being like the soap-making, dirty work.

I question if there be a family in Boston who does not own a flock of geese, and among them many who were once wild. They wander around the streets all summer, paddling the pools of water, chasing insects, and devouring whatsoever may have been thrown out of the houses that is eatable.

I doubt whether, if it were within the power of our preachers so to do, they would not kill all the geese in the town, for more than once on a Sabbath day have these noisy creatures made such a tumult outside the church that the sermon was actually interrupted.

Besides that, you cannot go anywhere without a lot of foolish geese running at your heels, hissing as if you had done something for which you should be ashamed, and they were calling attention to it.

Twice each season, in the planting and the harvesting time, must the small feathers be stripped from the live birds, and while this is being done, the goose, which has a strong neck and beak, would inflict many a grievous wound if one did not pull an old stocking over its head.

Some people are so particular as to have made goose baskets, which in shape are not unlike small gourds, and through the narrow neck of these the head of the goose is thrust, while the body can be held firmly between the knees of whosoever is doing the plucking.

Of course, when one is pulling feathers from the bird, the fine fluff, or down, flies everywhere about like snow, and the result is, that unless you take the precaution of tying your hair up in cloths, and putting on an old linen dress from which dirt can readily be shaken, you will be covered from head to foot with these fluffy particles, which are not much larger than snow-flakes, and extremely difficult to remove.

I have been so busy setting down matters concerning the household, as to forget that I should tell you how our town of Boston has grown, and who of the great men of England have come into it.

A CHANGE OF GOVERNORS

It was the third year after our coming, that Master John Cotton, the famous preacher, settled among us, taking upon himself, because of the entreaties of our people, the care of the First Church.

It was also in this same year that a new governor was chosen, much to the regret of both Susan and me, for while we girls could not be expected to know anything regarding the matter, it surely seemed to us that Master Winthrop was the very best man in all this world to rule over us.

But those who had the privilege of voting must have believed otherwise, for they elected Master Thomas Dudley in his stead, and made Master Winthrop one of the assistants in the Council.

With the exception of that, and the trouble which Master Roger Williams, the great preacher, was making, nothing disturbed us. Our town continued to grow fast, until we began to believe that before many years had passed it would be even as great a city as could be found in England, with, of course, the exception of London.

THE FLIGHT OF ROGER WILLIAMS

Now as to the trouble which some of our people were having with Master Roger Williams: I should be able to set it down plainly, and yet it is not reasonable to suppose girls know much about the affairs of state.

A very great preacher was Master Williams, and one who took it upon himself to write, for the public reading, that the King had no right to sell or give land to us white people, because of the whole country's belonging to the Indians, and it can be well understood how much of a stir the matter caused.

Master Williams had been chosen by the people of Salem as teacher in their church, and when he declared that we had no right to hold the land which the King had granted us, which Master Blackstone had sold to us, and which Chickatabut had given to us in writing, the chief men of our town declared that he was not the kind of preacher who should be allowed to remain in the New World. Therefore they wrote to the people of Salem, demanding that he be sent back to England.

Of course our gentlemen of Boston must have been in the right, for I have heard my father say they were, and surely he would not lend his face to anything which was at all wrong. However, the people of Salem refused to listen to us of Boston, and, much to our surprise, Master John Cotton took sides with Master Williams, which seemed to me very strange.

I cannot say why it was that the people of the colony kept Governor Dudley in office only one year, or why Master Haynes was elected.

Master Haynes was, of course, ruler over the entire colony, and, as father said, not the kind of man to be trifled with by Master Williams, even though he was a preacher. Therefore, when Captain Underhill was about to sail for England, our Governor commanded him to take Master Williams back to London.

Some one, it seems, told the preacher what was on foot, and, although it was in January with the snow piled deep everywhere around, he fled from Salem into the woods, trusting himself to the mercy of the savages rather than be sent back in disgrace.

I have heard that it was a bitterly cold day, with the snow blowing furiously, when the poor man plunged into the woods in flight, taking with him nothing whatsoever save that which he wore upon his back.

Father came to know afterward, that Master Williams spent the winter with the Pokanoket Indians, some of whom he had met during the short time he lived at Plymouth, and in the spring went to the shore of Narragansett Bay, where it was reported that he was trying to build up a village.

SIR HARRY VANE

Quite the most distinguished person who came among us was Sir Harry Vane. His father was a Privy Councilor to the King, and one of the Secretaries of State in England. Because of wanting to see the New World, the young gentleman had been given permission to come to this country for a term of three years.

I wish you could have seen the stir that was made when he arrived. The Governor, with his soldiers and trumpeters, went down to the wharf to receive him with great ceremony, and the cannon on board the ships were discharged with a wondrous noise when he stepped ashore.

He was a most pleasing man to look upon, so young and so courtly, while his costume was a marvel of elegance. It seemed to me, as I saw him taking the Governor's hand with so much grace, that we needed but few men of the same kind among us to lend great distinction to our town in America.

That same evening, however, my mother reproached me because of worldly thoughts, saying that fine feathers do not make fine birds, although they may make a bird look fine, which I suppose is the same as if she had said that an evil man might, by his costume, be made to appear worthy, whereas he would not be so at heart.

However, I was not the only one in Boston who favored Sir Harry Vane, for before the year was over, when Master Haynes' term of office had expired, he was chosen as our Governor, and surely no person could have looked more kingly than did he, when he stood in the door of the Great House bowing to those people who had assembled in honor of his having been elected.

MAKING SUGAR

Susan and I had a right delightful time when the first warm days of spring came, for then it was the season in which to make sugar. I do not mean to say that we girls took any part in the sweet work; but on a certain day, very early in the morning, we were allowed to go out to Master Winthrop's plantation in New Town, there to see his people at the task, and, what was far better, we remained until late at night.

It was the first time I had been away from home, save to go over to Charlestown for a few hours, since we came from England, and I enjoyed it all the more because of its being something strange.

The snow was deep on the low-lying lands, therefore we wore snow-shoes, and you must know that we girls can use those odd footings almost as well as do the Indian children. It was a long walk to New Town; but father went with us, his gun loaded heavily in case we came across a hungry wolf, and so great was the excitement of going abroad after having been kept in the house, except on those days when we went to meeting or lecture, ever since the winter began, that we gave no heed to fatigue.

It seems queer that one can get sugar from trees, and yet so we do in this new country, otherwise there would be many times when we would not have sweet cake, for vessels seldom arrive from England with stores at the very moment when one is in need of this thing or that.

After we had arrived at Master Winthrop's plantation, good Mistress Winthrop went with us girls to see the sap drawn from the maples, and the three of us rode on a sled hauled by one of the serving men, of whom Master Winthrop has many.

Do you know how the sap is taken? Well, first a hole is bored in the trunk of a tree, about as high from the surface as will admit of placing a bucket beneath it, and into this a small wooden spout, or spigot, is driven. Beneath the spout is placed a bucket or tub, and into this the sap, coaxed up from the roots by the warmth of the sun, drops, or runs, very slowly.

Master Winthrop's serving men made holes in many trees, and then, when the work had been done, went about gathering the sap out of the buckets or tubs, into casks, which were hauled from place to place on a sled, exactly as Mistress Winthrop, Susan and I had ridden.

As soon as a cask has been filled, a huge fire is built near at hand, and over it is hung a large kettle, much as if one were counting on making soap. In this the sap is boiled until it is thick, like molasses, in case one wishes to make syrup, or yet longer if sugar is wanted.

Of course it is necessary to taste of the syrup very often to learn if it has been cooked enough, and this portion of the work Susan and I did until we felt much as flies look after they have been feasting on molasses, and have their wings and legs clogged with sweetness.

I do not mean to say that we besmeared ourselves with it; but we ate so much while tasting to learn if the cooking was going on properly, that I felt as if I had been turned into a big cake of sugar.

When the sap is thick enough to "sugar," as it is called, it is poured into pans of birch-bark, where it cools in cakes, each weighing two or three pounds.

A "SUGARING DINNER"

We enjoyed ourselves hugely until well after noon, when we were so weary and sticky that it was a positive relief to hear Mistress Winthrop propose that we go back to her dwelling, and there what do you think we found?

No less than twenty people from Boston, among whom were Susan's mother and mine, had all come out for what is called the "sugaring dinner."

Master Cotton, the preacher, was with the company, and he made a most beautiful prayer while we were waiting for the meal to be served, after which the spirit moved him to ask at great length, and in a most touching manner, that the food might be blessed to each and every one of us.

One could never have believed that we who were gathered around the table ever had known what it was to be painfully hungry during one entire winter, for there was sufficient of food to have served us, in the old days, a full week.