ges of
the town history, one is sometimes tempted to wonder if, perhaps, the
irreverent Morton did not, for all his sins, divine a deeper meaning in
this spot than the respectable ones who came after him. One cannot read
the "New English Canaan" without regretting a little that this
happy-natured fellow was so unceremoniously bustled out of the country.
Whatever Morton's discrepancies may have been, his response to beauty
was lively and true: whatever his morals, his prose is delightful. All
the town records and memorial addresses of all the good folk subsequent
contain no such tribute to Weymouth, and paint no picture so true of
that which is still best in her, as these loving words of the erstwhile
master of Merrymount.

"And when I had more seriously considered the bewty of the place, with
all her fair endowments, I did not think that in all the knowne world it
could be paralel'd. For so many goodly groves of trees: dainty fine
round rising hillocks: delicate faire large plaines: sweete crystal
fountains, and clear running streams, that twine in fine meanders
through the meads, making so sweet a murmuring noise to heare, as would
even lull the senses with delight asleep, so pleasantly doe they glide
upon the pebble stones, jetting most jocundly where they doe meet; and
hand in hand run down to Neptune's court, to pay the yearly tribute
which they owe to him as soveraigne Lord of all the Springs."

[Illustration]

CHAPTER V

ECCLESIASTICAL HINGHAM

[Illustration]

Should you walk along the highway from Quincy to Hingham on a Sunday
morning you would be passed by many automobiles, for the Old Coast Road
is now one of the great pleasure highways of New England. Many of the
cars are moderately priced affairs, the tonneau well filled with
children of miscellaneous ages, and enlivened by a family dog or
two--for this is the way that the average American household spends its
modern Sabbath holiday. Now and then a limousine, exquisite in
workmanship within and without, driven by a chauffeur in livery and
tenanted by a single languid occupant, rolls noiselessly past. A
strange procession, indeed, for a road originally marked by the
moccasined feet of Indians, and widened gradually by the toilsome
journeyings of rough Colonial carts and coaches.

It is difficult to say which feature of the steadily moving travel would
most forcibly strike the original Puritan settlers of the town: the fact
that even the commo