A hint of a story,--some incident which should bring on a general war;
and the chief actor in the incident to have something corresponding to
the mischief he had caused.
September 7th--A drive to Ipswich with B------. At the tavern was an
old, fat, country major, and another old fellow, laughing and playing off
jokes on each other,--one tying a ribbon upon the other's hat. One had
been a trumpeter to the major's troop. Walking about town, we knocked,
for a whim, at the door of a dark old house, and inquired if Miss Hannah
Lord lived there. A woman of about thirty came to the door, with rather
a confused smile, and a disorder about the bosom of her dress, as if she
had been disturbed while nursing her child. She answered us with great
kindness.
Entering the burial-ground, where some masons were building a tomb, we
found a good many old monuments, and several covered with slabs of red
freestone or slate, and with arms sculptured on the slab, or an inlaid
circle of slate. On one slate gravestone, of the Rev. Nathl. Rogers,
there was a portrait of that worthy, about a third of the size of life,
carved in relief, with his cloak, band, and wig, in excellent
preservation, all the buttons of his waistcoat being cut with great
minuteness,--the minister's nose being on a level with his cheeks.
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