Leaving New York by the New York, New Haven and Hartford Railroad, we found ourselves, at the end of a three hours' ride, in New Haven, the beautiful "City of Elms."

Everything here bears the impress of New England, with the special peculiarities of Connecticut, land of smart sayings and of the proverbial wooden nutmegs and oak hams. Stepping from the cars, my ears were first saluted by the salutations of two genial Yankees, one of whom, I inferred from the conversation, had just arrived from Bridgeport, and the other at the depot had awaited his coming. Compliments were passed by the latter, who saluted his friend with—

"Well, old boy, where have you been all summer? I see you have got your dust full of eyes."

The reply to this salute was in entire harmony with the interrogation, and both walked away from the station, amusing each other with odd maxims and witty retorts.

It being our intention to remain several weeks in New Haven, we decided to take up our abode at a private house, and with this object in view we started in pursuit of suitable accommodations. It was soon discovered that in the matter of board we were competing with "Old Yale," students always being preferred, owing to the prospect of permanency.

A reconnoissance of several hours, during which we saw more stately elms than I ever expect to see again in so short a period, brought us to 66 Chapel street, where we were pleasantly lodged, with an excellent table, and favored with a Yankee landlord from the classic banks of the Rhine.

Universal quiet on the streets, and an inexhaustible supply of brown bread and beans at the breakfast table, was an unmistakable evidence that we had reached a New England Sunday. After breakfast, the weather being fine, I was invited to accompany some young gentlemen in a sail down the harbor. Being uncertain as to the propriety of such a proceeding on the seventh day, I was promptly assured that the Blue Laws of Connecticut would not be outraged in case I had taken a generous ration of brown bread and beans before starting.

A ride of half an hour, with but little wind in our sails, carried us down through the oyster beds, to a point nearly opposite the lighthouse at the mouth of the harbor. A novel sight, in my judgment, is a multitude of oyster plantations staked out in such a manner as to show the proprietor of each particular section his exact limit or boundary.

To those of my readers who are familiar with hop-growing regions, I would say that an oyster farm is not unlike a hop field which seems to have been suddenly inundated by water, leaving only the tops of the poles above the surface. Oyster raising is one of the leading features of New Haven enterprise, and the Fair Haven oysters, in particular, are regarded among the best that are cultivated on the Atlantic coast. On our return trip up the harbor the tide was going out, and as the water was extremely shallow in many places, and also very clear, we could see oysters and their less palatable neighbors, clams, in great abundance. I was strongly tempted to make substantial preparation for an oyster dinner, but on being informed that such a course would be equivalent to staking out claims in a strange water-melon patch, I concluded to desist, and contented myself with seeing more oysters in half an hour than I had seen in all my life before.

EAST ROCK.

One of the famous places of resort in the neighborhood of New Haven is East Rock, an abrupt pile of red-brown trap rock, lifting itself up from the plain to a height of four hundred feet. The summit of this monumental pile spreads out in a wide plateau of twenty-five or thirty acres, sloping gradually back towards the meadow lands which border the winding Quinnipiac River. It is owned and occupied by a somewhat eccentric individual, rejoicing in the name of Milton Stuart, who related to me the story of his life in this strange locality since taking up his abode here, some twenty years ago. On being told that I would commit to paper some account of my wanderings about New Haven, he seemed to take an especial pleasure in showing me his grounds and telling me everything of interest concerning them.

With ready courtesy he pointed out a heap of stones on the western slope of the bluff, which he said was all that remained of a hut formerly occupied by one John Turner, who made a hermit of himself on this rock, years ago, all because the lady of his love refused to become Mrs. Turner. He met her while teaching in the South—so the story ran—and all his energies seemed to be paralyzed by her refusal to listen to his suit. He came to East Rock and built this wretched hovel of stone, where he lived in solitude, and where one morning in that long ago, he was found dead on the floor of his hovel. How many romances like this lie about us unseen, under the every-day occurrences of life!

WEST ROCK

is a continuation of the precipitous bluff of which East Rock is one extremity, and is about a mile further up the valley. It is not so high nor so imposing as East Rock, and the view from its wooded top fades into tameness beside the remote ocean distance and the flash of city spires to be seen from East Rock. But it makes up in historical interest what it may lack in other attractions; for here, about a quarter of a mile from its southernmost point, is located the "Judge's Cave," famous as the hiding-place of the regicides who tried and sentenced King Charles the First, in the seventeenth century.

On the restoration of Charles II to the throne of his father, three of the high court which had condemned the first Charles wisely left England for the shores of the New World. Their names were Goffe, Whalley and Dixwell. Whalley was a lieutenant-general, Dixwell was a colonel, and Goffe a major-general. These noted army officers arrived at Boston, from England, July twenty-seventh, 1660, and first made their home in Cambridge. Finding that place unsafe, they afterwards went to New Haven.

The next year news came from England that thirty-nine of the regicide judges were condemned, and ten already executed, as traitors. An order from the king was sent to the Colonial governors of Massachusetts and Connecticut, for the arrest of the judges. They were thus compelled to fly for their lives, and sought refuge in the cave on West Rock, which afterwards bore their name. Here they lived concealed for some time, being supplied with food by Richard Sperry, who lived about a mile west of the cave. The food was tied up in a cloth and laid on a stump near by, from which the judges could take it unobserved.

One night they beheld the blazing eyes of a catamount or panther, peering in upon them at their cave, and were so frightened that they fled in haste to the house of Mr. Sperry, and could not again be induced to return. Several large boulders, from twenty to thirty feet in height, thrown together, doubtless, by some volcanic convulsions, unite to form the cave.

Dixwell afterwards lived in New Haven, under an assumed name, and the graves of all three may now be seen, at one side of Centre Church, on the City Green.

The following inscription is on a marble slab over the ashes of Dixwell, erected by his descendants in 1849:—

The little brown headstone which first marked his resting place bore only his initials and the date of his death:—

That was all—his name being suppressed, at his request.

The headstones of Goffe and Whalley are marked in the same obscure way.

Yale College adds largely to the importance of New Haven, and the elegant new College buildings now in process of erection, built of brown freestone, cannot well be surpassed in style of architecture. "Old Yale" was originally a small school, established in Saybrook by Rev. Thomas Peters, who lived at that place, and who bequeathed his library to the school at his death. It soon acquired the title of the "Illustrious School," and about the year 1700 was given a charter of incorporation from the General Assembly, making it a college.

It was named Yale, after its greatest benefactor, who was at that time governor of one of the West India islands. The historian, Dr. Samuel Peters, who wrote nearly a hundred years ago, said that Greek, Latin, Geography, History and Logic were well taught in this seminary, but it suffered for want of tutors in the Hebrew, French and Spanish languages. He remarks, incidentally, that "oratory, music and politeness are equally neglected here and in the Colony." The students, numbering at that time one hundred and eighty, were allowed two hours' play with the foot ball every day, and were seated at four tables in the large dining room. This ancient historian says the college was built of wood, was one hundred and sixty feet long and three stories high, besides garrets. In 1754 another building, of brick, one hundred feet long, with double rooms and a double front, was added. About 1760 a chapel and library were erected, which was described as being "very elegant." The "elegant" structure of a hundred years ago will soon be discarded for the new one of brown freestone.

In the year 1717 the seminary was removed from Saybrook to New Haven, but it had a hard time in getting there. A vote was passed to remove the college from Saybrook, because, as the historian says, Saybrook was suspected of being too much in sympathy with the Church of England and not sufficiently alienated from the mother country. But there was a division in the vote, the Hartford ballot being in favor of removing the college to Weathersfield, while the New Haven party declared in behalf of their own city. A small battle grew out of this split between the Weathersfield and New Haven factions. Hartford, in order to carry its vote into execution, prepared teams, boats and a mob, and privately set off for Saybrook, seizing upon the college apparatus, library and students, which they carried to Weathersfield.

This redoubled the jealousy of the "saints" at New Haven, who thereupon determined to fulfill their vote, and accordingly, having collected a mob, they set out for Weathersfield, where they seized by surprise the students and library. On the road to New Haven they were overtaken by the Hartford faction, who, after an inglorious battle, were obliged to retire with only part of the library and part of the students. From this affair sprang the two colleges, Yale and Harvard.

The Massachusetts Bay people acted the part of peacemakers, and settled the difficulty between these two hostile factions, which resulted finally in placing the college at New Haven. So it seems our Puritan ancestors had their little disputations then, much as our Alabama and Arkansas brothers do now.

What a flaming head-line that college battle doubtless furnished the bulletin boards and colonial press of 1717! Imagine a column beginning with this:—

Sharp Fight on the Weathersfield Road!
Large Captures of Students!
New Haven Victorious!

But out of revenge for the victory, the sons of Hartford were not sent to Yale College to be educated. No, rather than go to Yale they went much further away, at greater expense, and where fewer educational advantages could be obtained. What were such disadvantages, however, compared to the satisfaction of standing by their party and ignoring the New Haven vote?

But old Yale grew and flourished, despite the stormy days of its childhood, and has now a world-wide reputation. Many distinguished men of letters call her "Alma Mater," and in all their wanderings carry her memory green in their hearts.

CHAPTER XX.