USA > Massachusetts > Barnstable County > Truro > Truro-Cape Cod; or, Land marks and sea marks > Part 30
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ant address, wore a rosy, priestly face beaming with good health and good nature ; calm and serene as a summer day. Had his observation been keen and discriminating, as his heart was generous and kind, he would have seen that a more ready adaptation to the people, and a more hearty coop- eration in their work, were all important to his broadest use- fulness. During Mr. Boyter's pastorate, Truro reached its maximum in population and prosperity. Education received a marked impulse, and the condition of the people materially improved. The manufacture of salt was profitable ; a large number of vessels were bought ; packing and outfitting were wonderfully increased, and the future seemed full of promise. Government bounty was then paid to vessels four months under license in the cod-fishery which kept a large fleet on the Banks during the spring. They were usually ready to sail about the first of April, or later, and all about the same time. The Sunday preceding this event, the churches would be well-filled to hear the good-by sermon to the Bank- ers. I remember how deserted and spiritless seemed the churches and surrounding hills for Sundays following. How wives and mothers sought comfort from each other, and bash- ful maidens looked their thoughts and tendernesses.
Sailing away ; Losing the breath of the shores in May, Dropping down from the beautiful bay, Over the sea-slope vast and gray ; And the skippers' eyes with a mist are blind, Of a gentle face he leaves behind, Thinking of him.
One spring Mr. Boyter advertised to preach to the fisher- men a sermon on " Luck." This little word has a tremend- ous reserve force. Among fishermen, sailors and soldiers it is like the name of McGregor in the Highlands : " A spell to conjure up the devil withal." It is said that the late A. T. Stewart, of New York, was a firm believer in luck. So much so that he would not employ a man who had the reputation of being unfortunate. Bismarck is also a believer in signs and omens. Luck is unscriptural and absurd ; theoretically,
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only the ignorant and superstitious believe it. It is kept alive only by marvellous traditions in nursery books, or mar- vellous personalities, like the Flying Dutchman. Practically, however, Mr. Stewart and the great Prime Minister have more sympathizers than the world knows.
" Born to luck," is an old saying and full of mischief. "Luck is better than pluck," is good and acceptable doctrine to a lazy man. At this time - say fifty years ago -few had the courage to oppose a public sentiment, whose mantle of charity was wide enough to shelter their faults as well as misfortunes. The prosperous man this year, understood that his luck might turn next, and he hesitated to run against an oracle that might some time save his reputation.
A lucky fisherman must be quick of apprehension, fertile in resources, independent in judgment and wide awake. He may be all this, and not be lucky, not having the born faculty. Even the born faculty will not bring fish to his hook ; there must be nerve, known among fishermen as " smartness." Lucky men are most always bold, brave men ; and fortune favors the brave.
Captain Godfrey Rider, the father of Rev. Dr. Wm. H., of Chicago, and Colonel Godfrey, of Medford, was at one time lying wind-bound in Hampton Roads near Norfolk, in com- pany with a large fleet bound East. The wind was north- easterly and weather thick, but the young captain resolved to push out, hoping that the wind might vary a few points out- side, which would enable him to pick his way along. When a few miles out he took a fairish wind so he could slant along, and saw no more land nor sky till he struck the shore in Portland Harbor. Here he had quick despatch, as vessels were scarce, and started again for Baltimore with a fair wind. When he arrived at Hampton Roads the same wind and weather prevailed as he had left, and the same fleet lay wind- bound, waiting a change to go to sea.
So strong was this feeling that it sometimes proved a serious embarrassment to good deserving men who happened for a few years successively to miss an average voyage. A successful old skipper related a bit of his experience to this
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point. When he was young and had the reputation of mak- ing good voyages, one of his neighbors, an excellent man who had been unfortunate for several successive seasons, came to him and very sensibly stated his case, and desired to go with him the next season. The skipper said, " I will let you know in a few days." He thought the matter over seri- ously, and, like a wise man, talked with his wife about it. After considering that the applicant had a sick wife, a large family, and that he lived in a crazy old house and was in debt, and knowing that he was really deserving, he told the man he should go, and be one of his sharesmen. A few days after he met one of his old crew, who excitedly said, "I hear, Skipper, that you have shipped uncle Wiff (a nickname) to go with us next year ; I won't go in the vessel with him ; he is a Jonas, and never makes anything. You won't make a dollar, and I am not going with you if you carry him." The skipper said, " I have told uncle Wiff he may go, and go he shall, make or break, whether you go or not."
With a pleasant laugh and a merry twinkle in his eye, as the memory of early days and a good deed warmed his heart he added, " We made that year the best voyage I ever made, and uncle Wiff was one of the best men I ever saw. He went with me till his wife recovered, and he built a new house, and his children could take care of themselves."
Mr. Boyter had a crowded house to hear his sermon on .Luck. He struck hard blows at many old-time abuses and crudities, and pointed out many inconsistencies. Unques- tionably he gave much wise and practical advice which the fishermen might well have heeded ; but the spirit and appli- cation of his sermon was unfortunate, and added nothing to his popularity. He declared emphatically that there was no such thing as luck, and warned them to banish it forever from their households, vessels and vocabularies. Three to five months' trips on the Banks, out of sight of land, he compared to " trouting in the brooks of Vermont with a fly and pole." He advised them how to bait their hooks, and said "if they did not catch fish, it was because they did not try."
The old fishermen of long experience, grown gray with
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perils manifold, and the hardy young men early trained to skill in their calling, thought they knew as much about fishing as the parson who had never caught a codfish, and would not bait their hooks with red flannel, as he advised. Mr. Boyter moved from Truro to Orange, N. J., where he died a few years ago. His eldest daughter Harriet married Captain John A. Paine 2d, formerly of Truro. She died a number of years since.
Rev. C. B. Elliot was Mr. Boyter's successor. He began his labors as a stated supply and pastor, Sunday, July 16, 1843, and closed February 2, 1845. Ill-health was the prob- able cause of his short service. Mr. Elliot was a middle-aged man, a consumptive and hypochondriac. His mufflers, over- coats and overshoes, were no less a wonder than his sermons, which, never over twenty minutes long, were marvels of learning, logic, doctrine and eloquence. I have never since heard so much of a sermon in so short a time. His blood- less, parchment face, caused, it was said, by strong coffee and strong cigars, and solemn abstracted manner, seemed a part of his severe theology. Orthodox enough he was in the pulpit, in some sense heterodox in life, though without a moral blemish. Some people have a dual life, that, like the hemi- spheres, never touch. The wonder is that they always main- tain their separate individuality and do not sometimes play the wrong part. Those who knew Mr. Elliot best, said that besides the ecclesiastic, cold, critical and accurate, there was another man ; broad, sunny and compromising; full of anec- dote and grim humor, with a keen relish for a joke. In the orbit of home he was frank and genial ; a steadfast friend and good companion. Rev. George Goodyear, successor to Mr. Elliot, was from Townsend, Vt. He commenced his labors March 6, 1845; was settled February 18, 1846; dismissed June, 1849.
Rev. Edward Wolcott Noble, D.D., the present incumbent, was born in Williamstown, Mass., 1811. Graduated at Williams College. He was installed pastor of the Congregational Church in Truro, December 26, 1849. The churches repre- sented were Chatham, Orleans, Eastham, Wellfleet, South
.
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Wellfleet and Provincetown. Rev. Stephen Bailey, Moderator of the Council of South Wellfleet ; Rev. Osborn Myrick, of Provincetown, Scribe ; Rev. E. W. Tucker, of Chatham, Assistant Scribe. The sermon was preached by Rev. Charles C. Beaman, of Wellfleet. The ordaining prayer was by Rev. E. W. Tucker; the Charge to the Pastor was by Rev. Jacob White, of Orleans; the Right Hand of Fellowship was by Rev. Osborn Myrick ; the Charge to the People was by Rev. Stephen Bailey. The entire expense of this installation was eleven and a half dollars.
His quarter centennial was celebrated by appropriate services in the church on Tuesday, December 29, 1874, after- noon and evening, under the auspices of the Barnstable Con- ference. As quarter centennials are becoming more and more of the past, an event so worthy of celebration is altogether worthy of record in this history. It also better covers the events of his pastorate during the first twenty- five years than any recital we could offer. We have there- fore drawn fully from the published and other reports of that event.
The church was very tastefully and appropriately decorated with evergreen. An anchor of evergreen with the dates 1849- 1874, surmounted the pulpit, while the desk was beautifully decorated with choice flowers, the gift of the pastor's friends in Boston. Near the close of the afternoon services, the sun looking out from behind the clouds shed gentle beams through the western windows of the church, and as the rays fell upon the anchor and the dates on the wall above the pulpit, it was regarded by some present as a happy omen for the future.
Rev. John W. Dodge, of Yarmouth, in behalf of the committee appointed by the Conference to take charge of the preparations, called the meeting to order. How beautiful are their Feet, was sung by the choir, and prayer was offered by Rev. Henry B. Hooker, D. D. The following original hymn was sung.
Father, within this ancient church, We bend in grateful prayer, Since 'mid the perils of the past Our lives have been thy care.
We praise Thee for a Saviour's love, His life, and death divine, We bless thee for thy guiding stars That on our darkness shine.
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To-day we lift our heartfelt praise, That at thine altar here, We greet the pastor, loved and tried Through many a passing year.
Bend o'er his path with love divine, Dispel each coming fear, And may he find in ev'ry strait Thy promised aiding near.
And when that short'ning path shall end, When ends for us his prayer, May he, with harvest workers stand, His full sheaves with him there.
Rev. John W. Dodge then spoke a few fitting words of greeting, alluding to the success of the present pastorate, despite the peculiar trials arising from the departure of so many of the people of the church and society to other places. We are here, he said, to congratulate the pastor and people in view of his success, and to rejoice that God has permitted him to render such service. Such an event as this is a rare one anywhere in these days. Only twelve active pastors in our denomination in this State to-day have had longer terms of ser- vice. The event is especially rare in this county. The average length of pas- torates in this county is three years and a half. In Suffolk County it is fourteen years. Throughout the State it is seven years and a half. A pastorate of the length of this takes deep root in the life of any community. It influences generations.
The Hon. Thomas N. Stone, M. D., of Wellfleet, formerly a resident of Truro, and member of this church, was called to the chair as president of the day. The doctor's reputation was already well-established as a presiding offi- cer, and he was never more at home. His native wit was never more charming and vivacious. He remarked, "They cannot show a large church, but it is a nursing church. Her former members have made their homes in Boston, and Somerville, New York, Chicago and San Francisco. They have gone out with an energy and spirit that was begotten here. There is something of Puritan stability still lingering here. This church has given the members too much energy, and they have gone away. The lazier churches have kept us at home." He made pleasant allusions to the Truro Academy, and the noble work it did in its day ; that it had made itself felt as a power for good throughout the United States.
An interesting letter was read from Rev. Osborn Myrick of Middletown, Vermont, formerly a pastor of the Church in North Truro, and for twenty years pastor of the Congregational Church in Provincetown. Rev. Charles Beaman now a resident of Boston, who had preached Mr. Noble's ordination sermon, was introduced. He related that Chancellor Kent once said to Rev. Dr. Erskine Mason, that he would take his hat off to a minister who had stayed by his people ten years. He alluded pleasantly to the fact that Mr. Noble and himself were classmates at Andover Theological Seminary. The President announced the Rev. Charles S. Macready of the Methodist Episcopal Church in Wellfleet,
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would speak " without notes." Oh, where are Kings and Empires now, was sung by the audience, when Rev. Henry A. Goodhue of West Barnstable was introduced, who spoke in behalf of the other churches of the Conference. This speech was regarded as an " elegant and fitting tribute " to the pastor of Truro. Mr. Joshua H. Davis, formerly preceptor of the Truro Academy, now the superintendent of the public schools in Somerville, was next called, and made a historical address. The closing address of the service was given by Deacon Jonathan Higgins of Orleans, on "The Educational Power of the Pastor," which abounded in reminiscences. The company then repaired to the Town Hall, where a bountiful collation was spread. At 6:30 the services were resumed in the church. Prayer was offered by Rev. Emery G. Chadduch of Wellfleet. The chairman read the following original poem : -
TWENTY-FIVE YEARS
By Thomas N. Stone, M. D.
Twenty-five years of pastor's life, Who may their secret tell ; The hopes, the fears, the joys, the griefs, Which in their memory dwell ?
Twenty-five years he's sowed and prayed In this his chosen field, The harvest morn alone will show What fold his labors yield.
Twenty-five years the babes he blessed, Sprinkling each angel row, Bear here the cross, or there the crown Life brings her workers now.
Twenty-five years - yon white stones tell How oft a tear he's shed O'er those, who battled by his side, Now with the silent dead.
Twenty-five years the youth he taught With ever watching care, Have shown in many a contest won, The girdings of his prayer.
They stand beside Pacific's wave, Down inland streams they glide, They dare Atlantic's wintry storms, They sleep beneath its tide.
They guide our ships o'er foreign seas, They throng our cities' mart ; Yet lessons of their childish years Still rest in manhood's heart.
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We may not know which ray of Spring Unlocks the May-flower's tomb, We may not point the drops of dew That made the violet bloom.
We cannot tell what word or look May stir the soul within, We may not guess what gentle tone Will win the heart from sin.
'Tis ours to sow, though cold the sky And sterile be the soil. Not for the sheaves our Master pays, But for his servants' toil.
The pastor's words some mother now In hope may sow again, And future years will proudly show How waves the golden grain.
The purblind world may never know From whence the seed corn came, The reapers on her prairies broad Ne'er hear our Noble's name.
God knows the sower and his toil, He knows from whence the seed, His memory keepeth all the score, His love will bring the need.
Brother, amid old Truro's hills Still sow the precious grain, The Master's eye will watch its growth, Will bring the sun and rain.
The sun is westing and the day Grows gray amid thy hair, Fear not, the God who watched the past Will guide thy foot with care.
Not for earth's riches hast thou wrought, Not for his servile breath, Thy Master's word comes cheering still, " Be faithful unto death !"
The poem was followed by an address historical and con- gratulatory, by Hon. John W. Davis of Provincetown, in which grateful and well-deserved reference was made to the
REV. EDWARD W. NOBLE, D.D.
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pastor's wife. Allusion was made to the progress of invention and to the pastorate " in which time God and men have writ- ten history." Rev. John W. Dodge presented the correspond- ence, which consisted of letters from Rev. H. Beebe of New Haven, a classmate of the pastor's. Rev. George F. Walker of Ashby, formerly of Wellfleet, A. L. Clark of Greenport, Long Island, Rev. Charles A. Stoddard, D. D., of New York, Dea- con E. D. Dyer of Newton, and Rev. Wm. S. Hubball of Somerville. Testimonial gifts amounting to three hundred
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dollars, were presented from former parishioners broadly scattered over the country. The pastor fittingly acknowl- edged the kindness of his friends and the good Providence that first directed his course to the Cape.
The chairman offered a sentiment to " the wife," and the Rev. Doctor Hooker responded, mentioning in his remarks that the pastor had joined in marriage during these years one hundred and twenty-five couples. A brief address was given by Rev. Ansel W. Westgate of Provincetown. During the evening Coronation, Nearer My God to Thee, and Auld Lang Syne, were sung. The services closed with prayer by Rev. Richard Burn of the M. E. Church, Truro, and the benediction was pronounced by Rev. John W. Dodge of Yarmouth.
A faithful portrait of Doctor Noble is here presented. He is now (1883) in the thirty-fourth year of his service with the
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society. During the one hundred and seventy-five years since the beginning of Mr. Avery's ministry, four pastors have served one hundred and fifty-four years, the interruption of the regular succession being between 1828-49. Whatever may be the future of this church, the past is secure. The parson- age, of which the artist has made a happy drawing, and where Doctor Noble has spent the prime of his manhood, was built fifty years ago or more. It is a comfortable home, always open to friends and visitors. He married Mrs. Blake, a daughter of Captain Benjamin Dyer, of Truro. With a pleasant society and life-long friends, a cheerful home, a promising family, his declining days promise rest, peace and the reward of the faithful.
SUNDAY FISHING.
This subject has always been an open question on the Cape, and in all other fishing communities. It furnishes abundant material for discussion in winter, and abundant opportunity for violation in summer. A celebrated Truro skipper who used to get unspeakably happy during the winter religious meetings, but amid the excitement and anxiety of the sum- mer campaign, sometimes forgot his winter covenants, used to say, "There was no hope for him if he died during the fish- ing season, but in winter he was all right." I have said “an open question," because it is a broad issue, and can hardly be determined till the work of necessity is bounded. Christ taught, If a sheep fall into a pit on the Sabbath day, to lay hold and lift it out. It is an accepted principle to save prop- erty from perishing on the Sabbath whether on the sea or land. If on the high seas, it is a lawful prize. A dead whale is also a lawful prize. If as valuable a whale lies spouting at easy distance, and ready to be taken, is it morally less a prize because alive ? If a fisherman has toiled all the season with- out making sufficient to feed and clothe his family, and an opportunity offers to fill his decks with valuable mackerel, is it more a religious duty to secure the "prize," than to look on and see the neighboring vessels redeem the season ? Is it a
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necessity or not for these poor fishermen to take what seems offered, and thereby provide for their own want? The line, or spirit of favorite arguments as stated, is far from being exhausted, but enough to indicate the general drift, and I think none will say they are to be lightly answered. Old Jeremy Taylor, author of Holy Living and Dying, said, " It is better to plough upon holy days than to do nothing, or do it viciously."
Forty or fifty years ago, there were in Truro, Wellfleet and Provincetown, I might add from all the Cape towns, a class of strictly religious Sabbath-keeping skippers. Men of sincere piety and enlightened conscience, who honored the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. They sustained order and worship on board their vessels as at home. Tossed amid the fog at anchor on the banks, lying snug under the foresail out at sea, or safely moored at Labrador, their little cabins were bethels, whence arose hymns of praise and earnest prayers. They would as soon thought of stealing as fishing Sunday. Considered in the Christian light, with intelligent convictions of Christian duty, unwavering adherence to Christian character and true Christian manhood, these men were peers with any in the world. They received respect and confidence wherever known, and made Cape Cod and her sons honored at home and abroad.
There has been another class that would not hoist their mainsail to fish Sunday, but would do other work ; go visiting, called " cooging," spin yarns, perhaps play cards, really viola- ting the sanctity of the Sabbath and degrading its teaching. I would not be understood as begging this question, abating a jot or tittle from the letter or spirit of God's day, when I ask confessed Christians, whether the skipper who believes it his religious duty to fish Sunday and maintains wholesome discipline, is more a sinner than he who refuses to fish, but makes the Sabbath a holiday ? Still, over all argument or sophistry is the plain text, " Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy."
One Sunday late in the fall of 1834, when the fishermen were quitting, some on their way home in boats from Prov-
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incetown, an immense school of blackfish was discovered. It was a time of intense excitement ; most all, including some Church members, joined in the race. The vast school of sea monsters, maddened by frantic shouts and splashing oars, rushed wildly on the shore, throwing themselves clean on to the beach ; others pursuing, piled their massive, slippery car- casses on the first, like cakes of ice pushed up by the tide, till the shore presented a living causeway of over six hundred shining mammals, the largest number at that time ever driven on shore in one school. They landed at Great Hollow The news reached the churches just at the close of the morn- ing service. During the next few days while the stripping was going on, thousands came to the circus. Some who had never seen such an aquatic display, were wild with delight, jumping from fish to fish and falling among them as among little mountains of India rubber. The church-members who took a part, had a formal trial ; I think none were expelled. Among those in the boats who flatly refused to join in the chase, and with the non-concurring church-members took separate boats, was a young man who belonged to no church, and professed to be no better than his set. His father belonged to no church, but was as tenacious of the Sabbath as an old Scotch Presbyterian. So deep seated was the home education of this young man and the force of his father's example, that neither gain nor ridicule could tempt him to " break the Sabbath."
His love and respect for his father and grandfather amounted to veneration. Like Daniel Dove, he was the last of his race, and had an honest ambition to know all that his ancestors had known before him, and as much beside as possible. He had read and conned by note, all the books that had come down in the family for generations. For successive winters, he carried to school an arithmetic, venerable with years. A new schoolmaster laughed at his arithmetic, and said he must have a new one. " Why do you want me to have a new arithmetic?" said the young man. "My father and my grand- father cyphered out of that arithmetic ; I should think it div- lish strange if I can't." In early manhood, James Collins
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