151 



loved, friends whose kindness to me made my life happy and pleas- 

 ant during my sojourn in Salem. 



I hope I shall be forgiven for not replying more promptly, but I 

 wished to supply an item of information to the Historical depart- 

 ment of the Institute, but poor health for many months prevented 

 me from making the necessary journey. I wished to give a brief 

 report on the present condition of Scrooby and Austerfielcl, the 

 English homes of Brewster and Bradford. 



About nineteen years ago I made a pilgrimage to Scrooby and 

 Austerfield. On entering Scrooby village my eye hastily wandered 

 over the scene it presented, and I looked eagerly for objects that must 

 have been familiar to the pilgrim fathers. I wanted^ a common point, 

 where the past and the present the pilgrim and myself might shake 

 hands. While in this mood my eye settled upon Scrooby Church ; 

 it was the object I wanted; it was the link in the chain that I was 

 looking for. Ah! there it stood in its gray old age, just as the pil- 

 grim fathers left it, and I was not long in recognizing in its tapering 

 spire the type of the many spires that adorned the landscape of New 

 England some fifty years ago ; many of which I endured the pain of 

 seeing thrown down to give place to steeples and turrets, as I thought, 

 less emblematic of a Christian country. On entering the church I 

 could well imagine that little or no alteration had taken place from 

 the time of the Elder Brewster, and I paced its aisles with a lively 

 interest, every step I took being in the footprints of a pilgMm 

 father. 



On strolling into the village I enquired for the site of Scrooby 

 Manor, which was soon pointed out to me, and, what was of deeper 

 interest, the manor farm-house. My informant was an old man, who 

 was hedging and ditching. He was very intelligent and very commu- 

 nicative for one of his class, and soon gave me to understand that cer- 

 tain portions of the origiual manor were incorporated bodily into the 

 manor farm-house, which he had just pointed out. This information 

 awakened a new interest, for I had just read in Mr. Hunter's valua- 

 ble pamphlet that no portion of it (the old manor) is now standing. 

 I was soon knocking at the door of the manor farm-house, and on 

 hastily explaining the motive of my call I was received with a genial 

 cordiality by its .well-bred inhabitants. On putting the question 

 plainly, "does any entire portion of the old manor make a part of 

 this present building?" I was told that such was really the fact. 

 And then, with as much modesty as I could command, I requested to 

 be shown that particular portion, and was politely shown into an 

 upper room called the " manor chamber." It was then a family sleep- 

 ing room and handsomely furnished. On closely inspecting the walls 

 I discovered that peculiar recess, the Piscina, which is always found 

 in old Roman Catholic Chapels. On the landing at the entrance to 

 the manor chamber there was a small latticed window" with stone 

 mullions and transom, that I could well imagine as belonging to the 

 ancient manor. Immediately before this latticed window there stood 

 a mulberry tree, said to have been planted by Cardinal TVoolsey. It 

 was a living thing upon which the pilgrim fathers must have gazed 

 many and many a time, and peradventure eaten of its fruit. I have 

 seen the old oaks in Sherwood forest some of them dating from 

 the days of King John, and I have paid some attention to the dura- 

 tion of hedges, and I can readily believe that the Scrooby mulberry 

 tree was planted by Woolsey, or as far back as his day. 



