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CHAPTER VI

When we assumed the soldier, we did not lay aside the citizen.

GEORGE WASHINGTON.

PEPPERELL CONTINUED. – WILLIAMS'S PLACE. – PARKER HOMESTEAD, – THE PLOUGH IN THE FURROW. – SHATTUCK FAMILY. – BLOOD FAMILY. – WARNER HOME. – JEWETT'S BRIDGE. – "PAUGUS JOHN"

      FURTHUR research in the town of Pepperell brought me to the Williams home, where I was met by a busy farmer, Mr. Luther H. Williams, who carries on the farm which his father and grandfather conducted before him.
      My grandfather, Isaac Parker," said the owner, "was one of Colonel Prescott's regiment. He was in Captain John Nutting's company, responded to the Lexington alarm, and was in the battle of June 17th. My grandparents frequently rehearsed the experiences of that time, in which this town had a creditable part. Grandmother, who lived to be ninety years of age, forgetting for the time the age of her grandchildren, would say to me, a restless boy to be amused, 'Do you remember the battles of Concord and Hanker Hill? I do; I re-

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member how the guns roared, for I heard them on the day of the battle at Charlestown, when so many of our folks were killed.'"
      My next halt was at the Parker home, where five generations of the name have made a record. The last are the children of Charles S. Parker, who now conducts the farm. The line running backward

[Photo - "OLD PARKER PLOUGH"]

from the present owner is Allen S. Parker, his father, Thomas, his grandfather, and Nathaniel Parker, whose name is found among those who did valiant service on Bunker Hill. Says Mr. Parker, "My great-grandfather was ploughing in the field when the April alarm was sounded; and he lost no time in preparation, but left his team, took his gun, and started. We have kept the old plough here on the farm as a reminder of that day, and also to show by way of contrast the progress that

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has been made in farm implements since the Parkers first began to cultivate these acres." The plough that belonged to the soldier ancestor was brought from its hiding-place; and a picture was taken of it, together with the chain in use at the same time.
      A superficial student of the history of Pepperell cannot fail to be impressed with the consanguinity of its people from the earliest settlement to the present time. Shattuck and Blood have been predominant names. They owned large tracts of land on both sides of the Nashua River, suffered greatly from the depredations of the Indians, and were well trained in warfare long before the Revolution.
      Few persons nowadays can have an accurate conception of the toil, suffering, and dangers endured by the early settlers of our frontier New England towns. The workmen as they went forth to their labors were not sure of returning again in safety to their homes, or, if they did, that they should find their loved ones alive. The tomahawk, scalping-knife, and other deadly weapons, were in the hands of foes whose approach was often stealthy and when least expected."
      Two of the grandsons of the first William Shattuck settled in that part of Groton which became Pepperell. They were allied with the Bloods through marriage; and so common were the two names, that it was said a stranger in the place was perfectly safe in addressing a citizen as Mr. Shat-

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tuck, and, if failing of recognition, turning to the name of Blood. "Rev. Mr. Emerson is said to have remarked, that 'he sometimes regretted that he did not marry a Shattuck, for he should then have been related to the whole town.'" The widow of the regretful minister's son Joseph, how-

[Photo - "COLONEL SHATTUCK'S HOME, PEPPERELL"]

ever, made amends for the mistake by marrying Calvin Shattuck in 1811.[1]
      The town furnishes no more favorable vantage-ground for tracing the footprints of the patriots


[1] The Bloods were of that family early found in Concord, Mass., to which reference has been made in "Beneath Old Roof Trees."

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in these families than the home of Colonel Samuel Pepperell Shattuck; the beautiful house of the present day identifies that of John Shattuck, which was one of the garrison houses maintained as late as I750. The owner was called "Canada John," because occupying the outpost between civilization in the Colony and Canada; and doubtless the name distinguished the garrison-keeper from other John Shattucks. A large elm-tree now on the place is said to have sprung up through the stone chimney of the old garrison when gone to decay. Colonel Shattuck, the present occupant of this old estate, represents the younger branch of the original settler's family; while Mrs. Shattuck, who was a Shattuck before marriage, represents the older branch. In company with Colonel and Mrs. Shattuck, both worthy descendants of a self-sacrificing ancestry who have left footprints on the sands of time, I gathered facts of peculiar interest. In driving through the centre of the town, Mrs. Shattuck proudly remarked that "here is where our grandmothers met and publicly burned their tea, thus following the example of the patriots of Charlestown, Providence, R.I., and other towns, when the king was trying to force them to submission."
      The relations between the Pepperell minister and his people at the opening of the Revolution are brought vividly to mind when calling at the old Shattuck home, and listening to the family

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story from Augustus L. Shattuck: "My grandfather, Jonathan Shattuck, was a millwright. In company with his neighbors he started from home in response to the Lexington alarm, but was told by his far-seeing minister that his place was at home, because much of the supplies for the army depended upon the millers; hence grandfather returned, hung up his gun, and went to work in the mill." It will be remembered that during the early months of the war the patriot army was supplied by contributions from the families. There consequently was but little uniformity in the rations. One good woman of Pepperell, familiar with the Bible account of David taking ten cheeses into the camp of the Israelites,[1] insisted upon sending a cheese of her make to her son in camp at Cambridge, by a neighbor, who was returning from the town after a furlough.
      In our drive about the town we came to the crossroads where it is alleged a Pepperell woman met her husband on that April morning, and delivered to him his coat, with admonitions to make haste, for the Regulars are out. Passing a fertile field, I was told that "Jeremiah Shattuck was working here when he heard the alarm gun; and he instantly left all, jumped the fence, joined the company, went to Cambridge, and gave up his life at Bunker Hill with other Pepperell men."
      There are but few houses in the town that have


[1] 1 Sam. xvii 18.

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not undergone radical changes since the Revolution, but there is one at the corner of Pepperell and Townsend which remains much the same as when the roaring of the cannon on Bunker Hill was heard at its door. Joseph Warner was the first of the family on the place; he took up his abode there in 1777, when his son Richard was eight years of age. Both completed their lives at this farm, and were followed by the present occupant, who is Walter Warner; he is eighty-six years old, and conducts the business of the farm after the plan followed by his father. Mr. Warner of to-day recalls with interest the story told him by his father, who, as a boy in the centre of Pepperell, watched the gathering of the minute-men and their hasty departure in martial manner on April 19, 1775. The impression made on the youthful mind by the report that many of the townsmen had been killed at Bunker Hill, and more were wounded, was one that remained as long as life lasted; and the oft-repeated story has found lodgment in the memory of Walter Warner. His natural aversion to anything modern inclines him to derive the most complete satisfaction from the recollections of his youth.
      Our further drive about the town brought us to Jewett's Bridge, which spans the Nashua River. Colonel Shattuck reminded us of the bravery of his patriotic grand-aunt, Mrs. David Wright, who with an associate, Mrs. Job Shattuck, posted

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themselves here, and arrested Captain Leonard Whiting, a noted Tory, the bearer of treasonable despatches from Canada to Boston (see "Woman in the Revolution"). Passing down the river road, which winds gracefully through the town, following the course of the Nashua, we came to the place where an earlier patriot made a record that will endure as long as the history of the New England Colonies is read. It was at this place that John Chamberlain killed young Paugus, and saved his own life. While this story is of days that preceded the Revolution, the descendants of the hero were active in the war for independence, and are represented to-day in the town, one of my venerable guides, Mrs. Shattuck, being a grand-niece of John Chamberlain.

[Photo - "Colonel Samuel P. Shattuck]

STORY OF PAUGUS JOHN.
Condensed from published reports.

      John Chamberlain was one of Captain Lovewell's company in the famous fight with the In-

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dians in 1725 near Fryeburg, Me. In the general engagement John's gun became foul, and he went to the edge of the pond to wash it out. While there he discovered Paugus, the chief, engaged in the same act. Chamberlain had personal acquaintance with Paugus, and they at once resolved to see who should be the survivor of the hour. "Now, Paugus," said, Chamberlain, "I'll have you; "and with the spirit of an oldhunter sprang to loading his rifle. "Na – na, me have you," said Paugus; and he handled his gun with a dexterity that made the bold heart of Chamberlain beat quick, and he almost raised his eye to take his last look upon the sun. They rammed their cartridges, and each at the same instant cast his ramrod upon the sand. "I'll have you, Paugus," repeated Chamberlain, as in his desperation he almost resolved to rush upon the savage with the breech of his rifle, lest he should receive his bullets before he could load. Paugus trembled as he applied his powder-horn to

[Photo - "Mrs. Samuel P. Shattuck"]

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the priming. Chamberlain heard the grains of his powder rattle lightly upon the leaves beneath his feet; he struck his gun-breech violently upon the ground, the rifle "primed herself," he aimed, and his bullets whistled through the heart of Paugus. As the chief fell, the bullet from the mouth of his ascending rifle touched the hair upon the crown of Chamberlain, and passed off without avenging the death of its dreadful master.
      The children and successors of Paugus, long after this event, determined to avenge the death of the chief. They entertained the opinion that whoever should kill Chamberlain would be considered the greatest chief of the nation; and they made several attempts to do it, the last one having taken place at the Nashua River in Pepperell, where Chamberlain had a mill.
      In the year — , towards the close of one of those fair days in autumn which make up the "Indian summer," a number of the villagers of Groton had gathered in their one-story tavern to talk over their little politics, as was their custom, when they were surprised and startled by the entrance of a young Indian among them. An Indian at that time was a rarity in the town. He was tall, over six feet, and finely formed, after the fashion of the forest. He had a belt of wampum around his waist, and from it hung his tomahawk. A long gun was in his hand; and he stood in moccasins, with the grace and dignity of the son of a chief.

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He placed his gun behind the door, and silently took his seat by himself. A little before sunset the farmers left the inn, and returned to their homes. An old hunter remained with the landlord and the young savage. The hunter eyed the Indian with keen attention; his suspicions were aroused at the sight of this warrior, armed, so remote from the residence of the nearest tribe, and in a time of peace. He was acquainted with the Indians in the old wars; and his suspicions were heightened and confirmed when he heard the young chief ask the landlord, in a low and indifferent tone, if "one Chamberlain dwelt in the village." The landlord pointed out to him the mill where the old man labored, and the cottage where he dwelt. The Indian took his gun, and went out. "Some of the blood of old Paugus," said the hunter, "and, I'll venture my life, come to avenge the death of that chief upon Chamberlain. I'll give the old man warning." He stepped out, and made haste to the mill here the old man was still at his toils, and made known his suspicions. Chamberlain's cheek turned ashy pale; and he sternly replied, "Tell young Paugus I have the gun that slew his father, and he had far better return to his forest than molest me in my old age." As he spoke he pointed out the long gun as it hung upon prongs of the moose-horn, driven into the sawmill plate; and near it was suspended the bullet-pouch and powder-horn of the same cam-

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paign. After giving his warning the hunter retired. Chamberlain took down his gun, tried his flint, charged it, took the pouch and horn and flung them upon his side, hung up near the saw-gate the old garment he had worn at work through the clay, hoisted the gate of the mill and set the wheel in motion, looked keenly around him in every direction, and retired to an eminence a few rods distant, crowned with a clump of thick bushes, and crouched down to await the approach of his mysterious enemy. He was not, however, mysterious to Chamberlain. The old man remembered every trait in the Indian character, and calculated with great accuracy as to the time and manner of Paugus's advance. Just as it was growing too dusky to distinguish a human form, except towards the west, the old man descried him creeping cautiously from a bunch of bushes, eight or ten rods above the mill, by the torrent, with his cocked rifle before him, and his hand upon the lock. The young savage heard the noise of the saw-frame, and could discern it in rapid motion, and shrunk back into the thicket. He came out again, a little distance from where he entered, and, with the wary motions of the ambush, reconnoitred the mill, Chamberlain marking him all the while. Young Paugus came out of the bushes the third time, and in a new quarter, and was stealthily advancing when something seemed to catch his eye in the form of his father's slayer. He stopped short, brought his

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rifle to his eye, and with quick aim fired. The report rang sharp and low upon the still air, as if the gun itself were muffled, or afraid to speak above its breath. Young Paugus crept out upon a mill-log that extended over the rapid, and stretched himself up to his full height, as if to ascertain, without advancing, the success of his shot. The old man could spare him no longer. He saw the well-remembered form of the old chief, as the young savage stood against the western sky, which was still red with the rays of the sunken sun. He levelled the fatal gun; it blazed; young Paugus leaped into the air as the ball whistled through his heart, and his lifeless body fell far down into the rapid that foamed below him, while his vengeful spirit fled and mingled with that sterner one which parted long before at Lovewell's Pond. The next morning a bullet-hole through the centre of the old garment he had hung at the saw-frame admonished him that the aim, as well as the vengeance, of old Paugus had descended to his son.
      Standing near the spot where John Chamberlain killed young Paugus, the water of the same stream still coursing by, I could but hear in their gentle ripple, –-
"For men may come, and men may go,
But I go on forever."
The story of the narrow escape of John Chamberlain from the avenging hand of young Paugus led to the display of some rude articles of domestic

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use, treasured by my guides in the home as mementoes of the time when their ancestor plied the craft of a miller in this town. Together with the small articles was brought forward the long chest, or magazine, kept previous to and during the Revolution in the upper loft of the meeting-house; and in it were stored the town's supply of powder, balls, flints, etc. From it, doubtless, were filled the pow-

[Photo - "PEPPERELL MAGAZINE"]

der-horns of the eighty-four men who went from the town with Colonel Prescott on April 19, 1775. Surely the ancient magazine has become the property of the right man; for Colonel Samuel P. Shattuck is of himself, the embodiment of military zeal, having served in the State militia from the rank of private to that of colonel in the Sixth Regiment.
      The names of the pioneers of the town were prominent during the Revolution and in later wars.

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There were nine Shattucks in Colonel Prescott's regiment from Pepperell, while Bloods and Chamberlains were numerous. These and the other patriots of that town are still met in the form of their descendants on the same estates from which they made a hasty departure on April 19, 1775. On the lid of the magazine is read the following: --

"Joseph Warner Returned his powder & Balls.    Deken Blods sun recd 8 – 0 – 2                 Joseph Warner sun    "0 – 2 – 7"

[Photo - "Edmund H. N. Blood, Pepperell]

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