ld;

"And, borne on piers of mist, allied
The shadowy with the sunlit side!"

When Mr. Whittier returned to Amesbury from the last visit to his
birthplace, referred to in the preceding chapter, it was by the road
passing the Old Garrison House, the Countess' grave, Rocks Village, and
Pleasant Valley. He pointed out each feature of the scene that reminded
him of earlier days. When we came to Pleasant Valley, he stopped the
carriage at a picturesque wooded knoll between the road and the river,
and said that here he used to come with his sister to gather
harebells. It was so late in the season that every other flower by the
roadside had been killed by frost; even the goldenrod was more sere
than yellow. But the harebells were fresh in their delicate beauty, and
he gathered a handful of them which lighted up his "garden room" for
several days. I remember that on this occasion an effect referred to in
"The River Path" was reproduced most beautifully. The setting sun,
hidden to us, illuminated the hills of Newbury:--

"A tender glow, exceeding fair,
A dream of day without its glare.

"With us the damp, the chill, the gloom:
With them the sunset's rosy bloom;

"While dark, through willowy vistas seen,
The river rolled in shade between."

To a friend in Brooklyn who inquired in regard to the origin of this
poem, Mr. Whittier wrote: "The little poem referred to was suggested by
an evening on the Merrimac River, in company with my dear sister, who
is no longer with me, having crossed the river (as I fervently hope) to
the glorified hills of God."

"The Last Walk in Autumn" is another poem inspired by the scenery of
this locality. At the lower end of this valley, near the mouth of the
Powow, on the edge of the bluff overlooking the Merrimac, Goody Martin
lived more than two hundred years ago, and the cellar of her house was
still to be seen when, in 1857, Whittier first told the story of "The
Witch's Daughter," the poem now known as "Mabel Martin." She was the
only woman who suffered death on a charge of witchcraft on the north
side of the Merrimac. One other aged woman in this village was
imprisoned, and would have been put to death, but for the timely
collapse of the persecution. She was the wife of Judge Bradbury, and
lived on the Salisbury side of the Powow. In his ballad Whittier traces
the path he used to take towards the Goody Martin place, as was his
custom in many of his ballads.