two miles below the city hall. It is a tributary of Back River, on the eastern side, and the tide flows up the brook under the bridge in the highway. Joseph Austin had a mill on it in 1658. Whitehouse's map of 1834 calls it Varney's creek.

LITTLEWORTH. The district on the road leading to Barbadoes pond was so called as early as 1724, and is retained till this day. Whitehouse, on his map in 1834, changed the name to Trueworth to suit himself. It is needless to say that no other individual ever called it by that name, nor ever will do so.

LOG HILL. The steep bank where the Dover & Portsmouth Railroad crosses the old bed of the Cochecho river. It was the terminus of the path leading from the "Logging swamp" of Major Richard Waldron, where the logs were tumbled down the bank into the mill-pond.

LONG CREEK. It flows into Great Bay on the north side, and between Durham Point and the mouth of Lamprey river.

LONG HILL lies about a mile and a half north-west of Cochecho pond.

LITTLE BAY. The contraction of Great Bay at the eastern end, from whence issues the Pascataqua river. LONG POINT. So called as early as 1656.

It projects into Great Bay on

the south side.

LUBBERLAND. A locality in Durham bordering on Great Bay, and so called as early as 1674. The attempt to show that this is bad spelling for Loverland is a failure. The old grants use the name again and again, and always Lubberland.

The origin

as the town of Madbury. of the name is unknown. MAHORIMET. An Indian sagamore who lived in the limits of the old town of Dover. Samuel Symonds had a grant of 640 acres of land from the general court of Massachusetts, lying on both sides of the "Upper or Island falls" of Lampereel river, now Wadleigh's falls. This land was taken possession of by Symonds on June 3, 1657, "in the presence and by consent of Mahorimet, the sagamore of those parts." The hill in now Madbury was called after him, "Mahorimet's hill," till about 1725, when Joseph Hicks bought land there, and the title subsequently became "Hicks hill."

MAHORIMET'S HILL. This Indian name was perpetuated by the settlers; we find it in constant use from 1660 to 1725. It lies in Madbury, and is now called Hicks's hill. from Joseph Hicks who bought land and resided there from 1720.

MAHORIMET'S MARSH. So called as early as 1661, and for many years after. It was adjacent to Mahorimet's hill, and was probably the low ground immediately to the south and west of the same.

MALLEGO. The north branch of Bellamy Bank river, and was thus named as early as 1659. It arises from Cate's pond in Barrington, and joins Bellamy Bank river in the town of Madbury.

There

MAST PATH (THE GREAT). were mast paths in various parts of the town, but the one named above was what is now the road to Littleworth.

MESERVE'S GARRISON.

Clement

on land

owned by Gerrish P. Drew, is on the west side of the Back River road, and is in a very dilapidated state.

MOOT, MOOET, OR MOET. Bad spelling for moat, and so called as early as 1656 from its resemblance to the moat or ditch which surrounded old castles. It was applied to a morass in Oyster River parish on the Great Bay, and served to mark the bounds of certain land grants. "The little brook that cometh out of the mooet" is mentioned.

MOUNT SORROWFUL. So called in 1702, when Paul Wentworth had a grant of land there.

"MUCH-A-DOE." The road leading from Dover to "Much-a-doe" is mentioned in a conveyance in 1672. Muchado is a hill in Barrington, and the road referred to was, of course, the Tole-End road.

NARROWS (THE). The narrow channel in Cochecho river, about one mile below the first falls. See Campin's Rocks.

so

NEEDOM'S POINT. This was called as early as 1674, and was on Great Bay in Oyster River parish. Nicholas Needham was a member of the Exeter combination in 1638, and the point must have been named for him.

NEWICHAWANNOCK. The Indian name of the falls where the Berwick ("Great Works") river enters the (now) Newichawannock river. But the settlers applied the name to the stream from Quamphagan (Salmon Falls) to Hilton's Point, where it flows into the Pascatăqua river; and this is the Newichawannock of to-day. The settlers also called it the "Fore See Quamphagan and Fore

River.

NEWTOWN. So called as early as 1694, and the name is retained to this day. It is in the present town of Lee, about three miles north-west of Hicks's hill.

NOCK'S MARSH. The grant of land to Thomas Nock in 1659, lying on the north side of Belloman's Bank river, about one mile above tide water. In 1659 William Hackett had thirty acres of land between the path that led from Belloman's Bank to Cochecho," on the south, with the freshitt (river) on the west, and the land of Thomas Nock on the north. The spelling has been changed to Knox marsh by those who have forgotten the name of the original settler.

NORTHAM. When the Rev. Thomas Larkham, formerly of Northam, England, came in 1640 to the pastorate of the First Church, Dover, the settlers changed the name of the town from Dover to Northam; but when Rev. Mr. Larkham left the town in 1641, the former name of Dover was again adopted.

OTIS'S GARRISON. Richard Otis's garrison, which was destroyed on June 28, 1689, in the Indian massacre at Cochecho, stood on the west side of Central avenue on the top of the hill, which is half way from the falls of Cochecho to the "Great Hill." Drake's Book of the Indians and the Otis Genealogy erroneously place the garrison on the east side of (now) Central Avenue. Otis's house in 1655 was on the east side of "the cartway," now Central Avenue; but the land grant was resurveyed to Richard Waldron after the desolation of Cochecho, and they confirm the tradition that the garrison of Otis in

1689 was on the west side of the "cartway," now Central Avenue.

OX PASTURE (THE). It was laid out as such in the Hilton Point swamp in 1652, and was divided among the inhabitants, with other common lands, in 1732.

OYSTER BED. The settlers discovered a bed of oysters in the stream, which, from this circumstance, they called Oyster river. It was half way between the mouth of the river and the first falls of the same.

OYSTER POINT. On one side of the mouth of Thomas Johnson's creek, on the east side of Oyster river, and was so named as early as 1654.

OYSTER RIVER. So called as early as 1640 from the discovery of a bed of oysters half way between the mouth and the first falls of the river. The settlers gave the name to both the stream and the settlement upon it. The parish of Oyster River was included in the limits of Dover till its separate incorporation in 1736 as the town of Durham.

PACKER'S FALLS. The fourth falls in the Lampereel river, in Durham, was granted to Thomas Packer in about 1750. The second and third falls also are now included in "Packer's falls."

PAINE'S GARrison. In the Indian massacre at Cochecho, on June 28, 1689, Thomas Paine had a house on the road leading from Cochecho to Salmon Falls, now Portland street, at the intersection of Rogers street. Belknap did not mention it in his account of the massacre. It is doubtful if it was or was not fortified.

PAQUAMEHOOD. In 1665, James Paquamehood, an Indian "of Tole

PASCASSICK. The Indian name of the first falls of Lamprey river, at the head of tide water, where the cotton mills of Newmarket now stand, and which name the settlers also gave to the western branch of the river. Sometimes Piscassick, sometimes Puscassick, in the land grants. The western branch of Lamprey river is now commonly called Piscassick.

PINE HILL. The hill on which the third meeting-house of First church, Dover, was built before July 16, 1713, and where the dust of the fathers has mouldered for generations, was called Pine Hill as early as 1731.

PINE POINT. A locality in Newington, thus named as early as 1664; another Pine Point was on the Newichawannock, in 1693, just below St. Albons cove.

PINKHAM'S GARRISON. It was on Dover Neck, about half a mile below the second meeting-house lot, and was taken down in about 1825.

"You should have seen the mingled expression of surprise and contempt which stole over his countenance; and then, to appreciate my embarrassment, you should have heard him say,

666

'Young fellow, that is an old and very gauzy device, and if you don't disperse yourself in double quick time, I'll see to it that you have safe quarters at the station-house.'

"You may set it down as a certainty that I'dispersed myself' without any more ado, and I kept dispersed until the hour arrived for the party to move on to the next city."

McVeaigh's countenance now took on more of earnestness, and his voice became hard and belligerent.

"My troubles," he continued, "as it turned out, had but just begun. In a confident and joyous manner I went on board the special train that was to take the party on its journey. When in the act of making some inquiries of a palace car conductor, a colored gentleman, a hand was placed rudely and heavily upon my shoulder, and I was felled into a corner with unnecessary violence. The policeman who 'dispersed' me had me by the coat collar."

McVeaigh paused. An irrepressible emotion of indignation momentarily overpowered him. He nervously changed the position of his body, and when he spoke his voice was harsh and belligerent.

"He shook me for all the world as a terrier shakes a rat!" he exclaimed, indignantly. "He then ignomini

ously ejected me from the car, and when I gathered myself up and offered to show him my credentials, he laughed in my face and said he had good and sufficient reasons for believing them to be bogus. I attempted to reason with him. He would not listen; he simply said, in a gruff voice, 'Young man, I've got about out of patience with you! You look to me like a crank. Yes, sir, and if I were not under positive orders to go with this train for the protection of the party from just such unprincipled intruders, I would run you in for investigation.'

"You may set it down as a certainty that I was greatly embarrassed, and that I hesitated concerning the next move, and whether or no it was prudent to continue the evidently unequal contest.

"In my dilemma I appealed to the conductor of the train. He proved to be an unusually important and disobliging public servant. In fact, my pathetic story had no more effect upon him than it would have had upon the Old Man of the Mountain. He was travelling on a reverse curve, and he curved opposite to my humble person with great dignity.

"I cannot do anything for you, my friend!' he said, giving me a withering and scornful glance. If you are particular about continuing your journey to-day, the proper thing for you to do will be to purchase a ticket and secure a passage on the accommodation train, which follows us in thirty minutes.'

"I explained, begged, scolded, and swore, but all to no purpose. His heart was like flint, and his decision irrevocable.

"Clear out, or I'll hand you over to a policeman!' he exlaimed in a pompous manner.

"I was in mortal fear of a policeman, and so I cleared out with remarkable alacrity.

"The next and last individual with whom I sought an interview-the baggage-master-informed me, in

words more emphatic than polite, that there was a representative of my newspaper in the refreshment car, and therefore he was satisfied that I was a cheap fraud.

"While I was debating the question with him the train moved out of the station.

"Gentlemen, hearing no objection, I will now omit an elaboration of my experience in the next hour. I will simply say that I was very despondent; that the accommodation train was behind time; that it was slow; that when I arrived in the next city my mental condition rapidly improved, and I imagined myself in a place where the prerogatives of the profession are respected.

"Ah! but I was doomed again to dire and dreadful disappointment, as the sequel will show. Even to this day I cannot reflect with composure upon the events which followed.

With your permission, however, I will condense my harrowing tale at this point, and simply say that I made my way to the main street, and when pushing nervously through the crowd a heavy hand was again laid upon my shoulder, and well, that same policeman snatched me with peremp

tory suddenness that nearly stopped my breath.

"I expostulated, I resisted, I struck right and left with all my might, I kicked. I declared that I was pursuing a legitimate calling; that his interference was unwarrantable; that I would take the law on him; that unless he immediately and unconditionally released me he would get into trouble that would cost him his commission.

"My mad antics and loud declamation did not have the slightest effect upon him. He did not appear in the least frightened, neither did he turn pale or loosen his grip on my collar.

"This little episode, however, caused a great sensation and a commotion in the crowd. The procession halted. Everybody within hearing of the tumult rushed upon us, and became interested spectators. Some of the men attempted the role of peacemakers; others talked fight, and threatened vengeance on the policeman; children, who were trampled under foot, shrieked with terror, and women fainted; while a dandified fellow, who had the appearance of a dancing master, queried, What's he been doing?' and a plug-ugly (if I am any judge of mortal man) shouted savagely, 'Let him go!'

"The policeman was equal to the emergency. He drew his revolver, and ordered the mob to stand back. The effect was like magic: everybody stood back. Meanwhile I continued to show fight, and called on the people to rescue me: he clubbed me. I hung back: he dragged me. Yes, I blush to own it, that policeman actually dragged me to the city jail.

"At the guard-room my pockets