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[p. 5] diligent investigation availed nothing in the way of locating the spot of which I was in search.
I should have been sure of that in the beginning.
The world is too busy with its own affairs to take note of the friendless and penniless who leave it, and the only consolation I had in my disappointment was that the nameless dust I had vainly sought nourished the grass above it equally with that of those of more lofty name and lineage which had mingled with it.
While I was resting on the broken wall, from my investigations among the dilapidated stones and unmarked mounds, I was accosted by a pleasant faced young fellow who had been watching me, and who thought I might be searching for some rare botanical specimen.
He assured me there was nothing but the commonest weeds and plants in the yard.
When I explained that I was simply trying to locate a grave his curiosity suddenly cooled.
Later I formed a closer acquaintance with him. You of a later generation know him as Nat Bishop, who later, as a man, brought honor upon himself and his native town as an explorer and naturalist.
His home at that time was on Salem street, and very near this spot.
I recall his taking me there once or twice, and of meeting his mother, who impressed me as a superior woman.
A vague and altogether uncertain memory connects the Bishops with T. P. Smith.
Both were property holders on the street, and I think their estates joined.
It was now one o'clock. I had eaten nothing since seven that morning, and became suddenly conscious of an appetite.
As a result I began to look about for the means of satisfying it. Walking back to the square I began hunting for a restaurant.
I soon found that my search was labor lost.
There was no restaurant, but a man whom I asked furnished the information that I could get a good dinner at ‘Betsy Baker's’ for fifty cents, and appeared surprised that I didn't know that Betsy Baker's was the Medford House.
Now, half dollars were not as plenty then as they are today, and besides,
Medford, MA. 1908.
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