ities of human nature, and
the right of every man to have a chance at life, even if the way he
takes it be not agreeable to his cultivated neighbor.

The mills in the days of their greatest prosperity were all woolen mills:
now a part of them are cotton mills. They are all running, and,
although not with the remarkable success of a score of years ago, have a
future before them.

The making of felt hats, now so important a business, was started here
a number of years ago by a gentleman who built a hat factory near his
house at the Ferry. He was a gentleman in that true sense in which,
added to his nerve and will (and he had abundance of both) were those
knightly qualities of generosity and kindliness that have made his
memory dear, while the Bayley Hat Company, called after him as its
founder, bears witness to his business ability.

The great, oblong, many-windowed carriage manufactories meet one at
every turn, and often the smithy stands near with its clangor. This
business used to be confined to West Amesbury, now Merrimac. At the
beginning of the century it was started on an humble scale by two young
men, one a wood-worker, the other a plater, while another young man was
trimmer for them. One of the firm lived in West Amesbury, the other in
South Amesbury, now Merrimac Port, and after each had built his share of
the carriage, it was found a little difficult to bring the different
parts together. This was the beginning, and now Amesbury ships its
carriages over the world. One of the first to bring this business from
what was then West Amesbury to the Mills was a young man who in the
beginning of the war had been unfortunate in business. He gave his
creditors all he had, and went to the front. After serving his time
there he came home, went into the carriage business, made money this
time instead of losing it, and paid up his old creditors one hundred
cents on the dollar. He deserves a big factory and success. And he has
both. And he is not the only one of whom good things could be said.

They have a Wallace G.A.R. Post in Amesbury, not in commemoration of the
Wallace of old Scottish fame, but of a man no less patriotic and brave
who lived among themselves, an Englishman, a shoemaker. He was lame, but
so anxious during the Rebellion to have his share in the struggle for
the Union that he tried to get a place on board a gunboat, saying that
he could "sit and shoot." As this was impossible, the town sent him to
Boston