Daniel H. Pierce, P. N. H.,* called at Christ Church to authorize share.

PISCATAQUA RIVER.

[Arrived at the mouth of the Piscataqua, June, 1603, barks Speedwell and Discoverer, Capt. Martin Pring commander, on an exploring expedition, in quest of adventure and sassafras, the latter, at that day, being held a panacea for all the ills that flesh is heir to. The vessels were from Bristol, England, and were the first, so far as known, to touch the shores of New Hampshire or enter the waters of the Piscataqua. Pring explored the river to its fullest extent, or to where it entered Great Bay, and doubtless found plenty of the pungent root he sought, for it is native to the shore everywhere. In Vaughan street, Portsmouth, beside the house once occupied by Daniel Webster, there was, within a few years (and may be there now), a large sassafras tree, supposed to have belonged to a remote genera. tion of such trees, coëval perhaps with Pring's visit, which the writer remembers in his early school days, seemingly no larger when he last saw it than it was fifty years before.]

THE FIRST EXCURSION.

BY B. P. SHILLABER.

A weary sail on an uncertain sea!

And, skirting now a wild and rocky coast,
The surf there thundering on the rugged shore,
The Speedwell and Discoverer are fain

To seek a haven from the waves apart,
And find it where the ocean, open-armed,
Receives the fair Piscataqua in embrace.
Within the river's mouth-bedight with smiles
And dimples many-do the vessels rest.
Their anchors dropt, the ships securely swing,
In gay abandon, at their moorings fast,
Coquetting with the spirits of the tide,
The ever-present deities, whose sway
Has held control since Nature's cunning hand
Prepared the channel and let on the flood.

It was a goodly scene. Fair islands lay,
In virgin beauty, greening to their marge,
Enfolded in the atmosphere of June.

The birds sang welcome to the stranger ships,
And from their coverts timid deer looked out
To shyly scan the unfamiliar sight.

Far swept the coast, marked by its piny fringe,
And there upon the near horizon's verge

Rose gentle isles,* with verdure clad, that seemed
Fair satellites of the majestic main,

Resting, like emerald bubbles, on the sea,

And all was wonderful and new and grand!

Then up spoke Martin Pring, the Speedwell's chief:
"Now, by my hope of sassafras," said he,
"But this is Paradise renewed, and here,
Again, those scenes that waited primal man!
None more enchanting could have met his eye
Who by Euphrates set up for himself,
With all things his that met his raptured gaze.
Great Sassafras! thou marvel of the hour,
Deign but to show thyself, and we are blest,
Adding thy virtues to this prospect rare.
Boatswain, thy pinnace launch, and up
This tempting stream will we its track pursue,
And drink in draughts of wondrous loveliness,
For, since the time when first I was afloat,
Ne'er saw I stream with promise fair as this."

The pinnace launched and manned, with Pring to guide, Now up Piscataqua the bending ash

Propels the little craft, until the tide,

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Down-sweeping through the " Narrows," then unnamed, Resists advance, and struggle scarce avails

To stem the current rushing to the sea.

The Speedwell's crew, unused to strain like this,

Deem it a task exceeding human will;

But Pring, on sassafras and honor bent,

Urges his men to energy renewed,

And, with a splurge, the fearful Point is pass'd
(That mariners in later times have named,
In their emphatic parlance, something rude,
That ears polite are mortified to heart),
And, bounding free, the inner pool is gained,
Lying in tranquil beauty neath the sun :

A wide, blue stream that laved the verdant shores,
Lying abroad in beautiful expanse,

Backed by wild eminences, timber-crowned,
'Neath skies harmonious in the airs of June.

*Isles of Shoals.

"Pull-and-be-d-d Point."

There a steep bank descendeth to the shore,
On which the strawberry grows in pride of fruit,
Giving its hue from fullest plenitude,

Tickling the palate, minus sweet or cream.

And "Strawberry Bank" is named that precinct fair,
So called long after, when another Pring,

Of other name,* came sailing up the stream,
Preceding others come to stay, whose plant
Acquired a hold that, magnified, to day

Is all New Hampshire, grand in name and state!

Then on moved Pring. The majesty of God,
In solemn silence, all the scene invest,
Save where the rushing waters gave their voice,
Or the winds sighing through the wakened pines.
That cast their shadows on the passing tide.
Fleet water-fowl, on half-suspicious wing,
Flitted above the circumambient wave,
Casting a glance on the invading barge,
Instinctive of a peril undefined.

A pristine grandeur on the stream and shore
Bore stateliness and grace in every line,
And stillness, undisturbed, in brooding hush,
Seemed as if primal Nature, scarce awake,
Were gazing sleepily upon the scene,

And wondering vaguely what the intrusion meant.
Bright islands, shady bays, and inland creeks
Tempted the rowers with a rapturous show
Of beauties manifold, while there anon,
'Neath arches of the trees, fair vistas oped,
Hung plenteously with vine and summer flower.
And more than sylvan loveliness and grace
Did the explorers find, reward for toil,
In that tongue-tingling root of earnest quest,
O'er which the world ran mad, sufficient deemed
For healing of the nations in their need.