In a careful reading of them, often requiring patient study, and diligent comparison of the quaint expression, and almost phonetic spelling, the writer felt as one becoming introduced to the men and people of the Medford of long ago. So long ago was it, that it is well to take a look beyond the strip of land bordering the river, and extending back a mile in all places, that comprised the Medford of those days, making the thirty-one years ye olde meeting-house was used.
A. D. 1693, William and Mary had been for five years the reigning sovereigns and the town meetings were called in their majesties names.
The witchcraft delusion at Salem had just run its length and subsided without thrusting its baleful presence and influence into Medford.
Beyond the sea in old England, John Bunyan, the immortal dreamer, and Richard Baxter, the voluminous writer, had but just passed away.
The Pilgrim's Progress of the one, and Saint's Rest of the other were beginning to reach these