Heedless of where we are straying

Till the light of day has fled,
And perchance a storm is gathering
With the shadow of night o'erhead?
My little one came beside me,

And climbed to my waiting knee,
And lifted her gaze to the picture,
Which told its story to me.

"Tell me about it, mamma;

Why does the sheep wait there?” So I told my own wee lammie

(So tender, and sweet, and fair), How the poor white sheep had wandered Far from its fold away,

And was tired, and sad, and lonely,
And afraid, at the close of day.

"But the lamb couldn't help it, mamma, 'Cause its mother led it, you see.'

Oh! there was another lesson

Brought silently home to me: We mothers, who love our babies, Guarding them day and night,— Are we always careful to lead them ways that are best and right?

In

I gathered my darling closer,

With an earnest unspoken prayer, That the tender Shepherd above us Would help me with special care To lead my little lamb onward

Thro' pastures prepared by him, That naught could harm or afflict us When the light of our day grew dim.

And I know he will graciously answer,
And, though come storms and cold,
He will gather his own in safety

Within one blessed fold.

And my baby still talks of the picture,
And pities the lamb so white,
Which was led by its careless mother
Out into the dark, cold night.

NEW BEDFORD.

BY HERBERT L. ALDRICH.

No visitor to the shore of Buzzard's Bay has really done his duty, or shown due respect to the inhabitants, who has not learned to say in one breath, and without a break or hesitation,

These are the names of the islands along the south entrance to the bay which Bartholomew Gosnold, the English navigator, named for his queen the Elizabeth Islands when he entered the bay in 1602. Fortunately his attempt to substitute his own English names for these of the Indians was futile. When Gosnold landed at Cuttyhunk in the early summer of that year he found it densely wooded and abounding in game. To-day there is hardly a tree there. In the west part of this island is a pond of fresh water, in the waters of which is a considerable island, and it was on this that

these adventurers built the first habitation in this section of New England of which there is any authentic account. There they were, in a sense, safe from the Indians and from wild animals.

When Gosnold prepared to return to England in his vessel, the "Concord," with a cargo of native

products, such

as

sassafras,

cedar, etc.,

those who

had plan

ned to re

main and

its. But they

could not take back with them the cellar to the house they had built, and what little vestige of the hole that still remains in that island within an island is to-day pointed out as the spot where the first white settler's house was built hereabouts. Unfortunately for the picturesqueness and poetry of this historic incident, modern civilization has utilized the island as a hen-yard, and the historic cellar as a chicken-roost.

The real history of Southern Massachusetts began in June, 1664, when the General Court of the Plymouth Colony passed an order that "all that tracte of land called and known by the name of Acushena, Ponogansett, and Coaksett, is allowed by the court to bee a townshipe, and said towne bee henceforth. ... called and knowne by the name of Dartmouth." In November, 1652, Wamsutta and his father, Massasoit, had signed a deed conveying to William Bradford, Capt. Standish, Thomas Southworth, John Winslow, John Cooke, and their associates all the land lying three miles eastward from a river called the Coshenegg to Acoaksett, to a flat rock on the western side of the said harbor, the conveyance including all that land from the sea upward "so high that the English may not be annoyed

by the hunting of the Indians, in any sort, of their cattle." The price paid for this tract was, thirty yards of cloth, eight moose-skins, fifteen axes, fifteen hoes, fifteen pairs of

breeches, eight blankets, two kettles, one cloak, two pounds wampum, eight pairs stockings, eight pairs shoes, one iron pot, and ten shil

1 In the old records this name is variously spelled Acushena, Accushnutt, Cushnet, Acushnett, Acushnet, etc. The spelling now always used is Acushnet. Apponegansett was often spelled without the initial A.

lings in other commodities. This immense tract had twenty miles of sea-coast, not to mention harbors, etc., and represents, besides the present township of Dartmouth, New Bedford, Fairhaven, Westport, and Acushnet.1

In a brief article it is impossible to give more than the cream of the whole story of the growth and existence of this settlement. It experienced the vicissitudes of Indian depredations and wars. In

the King Philip war it was nearly obliterated, only the little settlement of Apponegansett surviving. But at the return of peace the settlers took up their old avocations, and gradually, but surely, made the old town of Dartmouth. The story of nearly every other outlying settlement in those days is the story of this one, so that all that concerns us are the historical events peculiar to this.

1 The original township of Dartmouth was owned by thirty-six proprietors at the time of its settlement. This old proprietorship was a quasi corporation, which existed for 170 years. It conveyed all the lands sold until at last nothing remained. Its meetings were then mere formalities, and they finally died for lack of attendance.