ted 15 June, 1857, was headed Medford.
A ship built in the yard of Paul Curtis in 1843 was named the Edward Everett, and our town honored the distinguished statesman by naming one of her school buildings for him.
It adds to the interest of local and general history to recall the fact that John Brown (before 1859) was a guest at the home of George L. Stearns, and received sympathy and encouragement from the host and his wife.
If he could only have looked down the years to see Doctor Booker T. Washington
December 17, 1905, Opera House and Mystic Church. that fine specimen of the despised race he really died for, entertained by our high-minded citizens and listened to by the largest audience ever gathered in Medford, how his soul would have been cheered; but John Brown only saw the promised land from the top of Mount Pisgah.
No choicer spirits, singly or in companies, ever gathered in any home in this town than were found in the home of George L. Stearns.
Men and women of th
n the borders.
There were apple trees with low boughs for climbing.
We didn't need nature studies in school in those days; we studied without knowing it as we played.
The old Fountain House dated back to the early part of the eighteenth century.
It was long a hostelry.
I recall the names Bradshaw and Simpson, who were proprietors.
Both were soldiers of the Revolution, and descendants of both live in town.
We were shown the identical ring in the great tree that shadowed it to which Washington hitched his horse.
My faith has wavered a little since the days of my youth.
The house was three story, sloping down to a few feet from the ground at the back.
It had long been a tenement in my day. Miss Mary Pratt lived in the second story on the east side.
I was sent sometimes with dainties, and the ceremony was always the same.
I entered at the double green door, crept up the winding stairs, inhaling the peculiar odor of old wood and trying to tread softly (for the stairs would cr