The Address of John Tower

To His Descendants Assembled to Celebrate His ThreeHundredth Birthday.

BY REV. CHARLES H. POPE.

Welcome to the old homestead, ye who have gathered from near and far. A Pilgrim past four score years and ten cannot be expected to attend to all your horses and carriages or to plan for all your diet; but you will be hospitably received by a committee of your own number. My words may sound old-fashioned and my garments may look outlandish, but I will talk with you in fatherly confidence this happy day.

Let me speak to you of the first home I ever knew, the town of Hingham, in the hundred of Forehoe in the county of Norfolk in old England. It was a fair place, with small hills and broad dales and a pretty pond. Not far away there were streams and broads where one might sail or fish or get game, if, forsooth, he had leisure for such sports, or if that were his vocation.

The people had farms and gardens, and raised cattle, sheep and geese, many cultivated flax and there were few houses that had not wheels for spinning wool and linen, while some were weavers of various sorts of cloths which were famous at the market towns on either side of us. Sometimes I would go with my father to the city of Norwich, where the mighty cathedral stood, so lofty and grand, and look about in the marketplace. There were many smaller churches, too, but none I thought better than our own parish church, for this was a stately building whose tower could be seen a long way off.

Within there was the central space, or nave, and an aisle along each side at the north and south; in the aisles little chapels were built, each with its screen and altar and all. I recall that one was dedicated to the Holy Trinity, another to the Holy Virgin, others called St. Mary by the Rood Altar, St. Mary of Pity, St. Nicholas, and so on. The patron saint of the church

was St. Andrew. Besides, seven gilds had their places and, at certain seasons, their services there, as St. James, Corpus Christi, Holy Cross, All Saints, St. John the Baptist, St. Andrew and St. Mary, each one having a paid chaplain, and the seven chaplains were our choir. Before every image and altar a lamp or wax taper or candle was kept burning at night, and the church was very bright and shiny.

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That was the way I saw it in my early boyhood; but Master Robert Peck, our rector, taught us a different sort of worship and procured us a better illumination in the house of God. was instituted rector in the year 1605 and conducted service after the manner of the old clergy for some years during my boyhood. But his eyes were opened after a while.

You must remember that in Scrooby, in the County of Nottingham, not very far north of Hingham, a small company of good people left off attending the parish church altogether, and met in a room of the Post station, saying that they were a real church, having a minister and ordinances. Their bishop persecuted them, however, and many of the common people joined in the hue and cry against them, so they were forced to go over into Holland to have peace in religion.

After eleven years there, they sought for a country where they could bring up their children as English folk and serve the Lord freely, and they managed to reach new Plymouth in this country, in the year 1620, sailing in the ship Mayflower. By that time our rector and many others of the clergy and laity, saw that these people had Scripture for what they did, so Parson Peck became a Puritan himself, and with him most of the parish. He was certain that it was the will of God that we should always keep pure what the Lord Jesus taught and that many things that were practised in the churches of Rome and England were very wrong.

For a time he stayed in the church of England, however, making changes in the worship and teaching us to be like the early church. He allowed the people to meet in their houses and read the Bible and pray in their own words; he sometimes invited those who lived near his rectory to come in when he read and prayed with his household. This offended the

bishop, whose name and nature were those of a Wren. Mr. Peck however went further, and pulled down the railing about the chancel, lowered its floor below that of the church, put away the images of saints and had no prayers offered except to God. He taught us that it was of no importance for us to bow at the name of Jesus in the gloria patri, because there should be no more honor paid to the Son than to the Father. But the bishop was very severe in these matters, especially in his own city of Norwich. One Michael Metcalf, who lived there, was haled before the bishop because he did not bow at the name of Jesus, and was clapped into prison for it. You may read the letter in description of this thing. He escaped and came over to Dedham here, and a good man he was indeed.

While these changes in teaching and worship were taking place, a great many people from all parts of England were making their way to New England to procure freedom to worship God according to his revealed word. Some of these came from Hingham, the Hubbards, Beals, Lincolns, Cushings and others, and I too thought fit to come. After we knew that Master Peter Hobart, who was already in orders in England, had become a Puritan and a Pilgrim, and had joined in beginning a separate church in this new Hingham like that in new Plymouth, even Master Peck joined in the pilgrimage, and became, first a humble member, and then one of the two ministers of the little band of believers here.

What happy days we had when we were together in this new England, free from the sad errors and persecutions which lay so heavily on the people of our beloved native country. Here we had poor houses and few comforts like the old land; but we had peace and good will, and the heartfelt worship of ours was like heaven begun below. We could say in letters to our friends in England, as William Hilton wrote from Plymouth in 1621, that we could have no better wish from them than that they should all come hither. It was the year 1637 when I arrived here and after I had tilled my lands and wrought hard in various ways for a year and a half my heart was filled with great joy.

One Master Ibrook had been here in New England a good

while and lived partly here and partly at Charlestown, as did others of our company. He had lands in several places in Hingham, as all the proprietors did use to have, and one portion of his estate was most beautiful for situation. It was a small island, at the entrance of our harbor, described in our town records as "the first island northward as you come from Nantascott lyeing to the west of the old planters hill and to the east of crow point". Over part of it stood a wood wherein were great oak and birch trees, and much grass grew on the slopes and by the cove.

There I saw, one day in September, the fairest maid I ever looked upon. She was with her father, Master Ibrook, and another was with her, her sister, comely enough, but not like Margaret, the maiden my eye had first rested on. Joshua Hobart and I were sailing past in my wherry, which I had built like those we used to have on Hingham pond and Norfolks broads in the old country, and as we sailed along I asked Joshua did he not think Margaret Ibrook the fairest maid in the plantation? I was pleased when he said, "Save only Ellen, her sister there". For it relieved me to see that he would be no rival of mine in wooing the girl whom I instantly longed to have for my wife. Joshua than told me that he had bespoken Ellen and would be married in the first month next year; and when he added that Margaret had said nay to more than one suitor, and would be hard to woo, I affirmed that she should have one more opportunity to reject, for I had a mind to have her for my own spouse. He laughed and wished me good luck.

When I spoke to Margaret after the meeting next Sabbath she looked straight into my eyes and said: "After I know you better John Tower, I may consider what you say; do not seek an answer this day". When I had weighed her words I took courage, and put off the second asking until we were better acquainted. On Thanksgiving Day, in the afternoon, I knocked at the door of her father's house and she came out and walked with me. After I had spoken, her cheeks were redder than maple leaves in fall as she said: "While you go to speak for me of my father I will wait here. If he says you nay, you must not hinder me from going back into the house while you go

away once for all. I will abide by his word for he is masterful and, moreover, he reads men as a clerk reads books. But be not afraid of his rough manner. Go quickly, John."

It was well she warned me, for I perceived no sign of kindness in the face of Master Ibrook when I said my errand, but rather, harshness. "Would you rob a man? How can I do without my pearl, my Margaret? Can you maintain her without want? Will she have that respect that her station deserves, and will she be suitably conditioned? Young Hobart has already got leave to take Ellen from me, come next March; how can you have the hardihood to ask me to throw another daughter overboard for some young planter?" So he spent his feelings upon me till I grew faint in heart, but I spake no word until he had concluded.

However, he made a kind ending to his rough discourse, and I was rewarded. "John Tower," said he kindly, at length, “a father may sometimes have a fault or two himself, but he cannot endure to entrust his daughter to anything less than a good man and true; I have inquired about your character and find all in church and town bear witness to your uprightness, and I will put my daughter into your care, always on condition that she tells me it is her wish, for she hath a mind of her own and shall not be crossed by me.

When I went to the door Margaret was far down the pastture lane, walking slowly away, but as I caught up with her she said without turning. "Your footstep hath music in it, John" and after a little we went back to the house and stood before her father. All the fierce look had gone from his face now, and he kissed Margaret fondly but spake never word more at that time. We were married at Charlestown by the magistrate (for there were no weddings by ministers in those days) the next February, even a little before Joshua and Ellen contracted.

Sixty-three happy years that fair maid and woman staid with me and "naught but death" parted us. Her learning, her wise counsels, at times her restraining help for my turbulant spirits; her calm faith and her steady love, all made life worth living to me. Death itself only separated for a short space; then they who parted below are re-united above forever.