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The Native Town. 
[AFTER KIPLING, WITH APOLOGIES.] 
We’ve drunk to the Club — God bless it! 
We’ve drunk to our President ; 
We’ve drunk to our Secretary, 
(Though not with his consent), 
We’ve drunk to all our members. 
We’ve done the thing up brown; — 
Last toast, and we’ll drink it standing, 
A health to our Native Town. 
A health to our Native Town. (Stand up!) 
We’re Club-mates, staunch and true, 
All bound to write of the little things we 
know about, 
To take delight in the little things we care 
about, 
As all good mén should do. 
To the headlands in the ocean ; 
To the miles of perfect strand ; 
To the pine trees in the forest ; 
To the yellow, singing sand ; 
To the graceful, winding river ; 
To the tide (when the tide is high) ; 
To the seven green-topped islands ; 
To the cod and the cunner-fry. 
To the cod and the cunner-fry, (Stand up !) 
’Tis part of our life, you know, 
And ’tis right to sing of the little things we 
care about, 
And take delight in the little things we share 
about 
In our little world below. 
To the hush of the early morning, 
When not a sound is heard 
Save the swish of the skirted hunter, 
Pursuing the Junko-bird, 
To the long, soft summer twilight, 
When, through the silence, steal 
The creak of the laden hammock, 
And the whir of the double wheel. 
To the boom of the angry ocean ; 
To the North East wind’s wild wail; 
To the safety of the harbor, 
The hope of the distant sail. 
To the chill of the savage Winter ; 
To the frost that is like a burn; 
To the salt that gives the flavor; 
To a glorious Spring’s return. 
To a glorious Spring’s return ; (Stand up!) 
For well she is worth the toast, 
And why not sing of the little things we care 
about, 
And take delight in the little things we share 
about, 
That belong to our native coast. 
We’ve drunk to things propitious ; 
To the tide, when at the flood ; 
But we’ll take her as we find her, 
And drink to her old flats’ mud. 
We'll drink to her foul-mouthed channel ; 
To her scarcity of men ; 
To our Native Town, with never a frown 
We'll drink, and shout Amen! 
A health to our Native Town, (Stand up!) 
We’re Club-mates, staunch and true, 
All bound to sing of the little things we care 
about, 
To take delight in the little things we share 
about, 
As all good men should do. 
By the might of our Common Cause, (Take 
hands! ) 
Our birth-place, up or down, 
From North to South (and a chain of life to 
bind it), 
From East to West (and the Love of Home 
to lock it), 
A Health to our Native Town. 
—A.C.N. 
-was Captain Tom’s daily inquiry. 
NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
Peeps at People. 
Editor North Shore Breeze: 
Will youplease ask through the col- 
umns of your paper how the name 
“ Newport” was first given to the 
section of Manchester now designated 
“West Manchester’? And also how 
the name ‘‘ North Yarmouth” came 
to be applied to the opposite section 
of the town? 
Captain John Codman, whom many 
will recall was mate for Capt. Thomas 
Leach, whom we mentioned in these 
columns last week, wrote quite an 
interesting article on Capt. Leach for 
a New York paper back in the eight- 
ties. It seems Capt. Leach always 
designated his bearings while at sea 
by the ‘bearing and distance of Mary 
Jane,’’ his wife at Manchester. 
“One of my duties,” says Capt. 
Codman, “was to keep the journal. 
Every day when the positions of the 
ship at noon had been determined, I 
was to work out from table second of 
Bowditch the bearing and distance of 
Mary Jane.” 
«««Flave you written up the journal’’? 
EE 
Peey 
oe VGE. Sits 
‘<< Got the bearings and distance of 
Mary Jane?’”’ . 
ce ee Neier 
««< What are they?’ ”’ 
«He was duly informed.” 
«¢¢ Well, get your dinner.’ 
” 
On another occasion when sailing 
in the Carmion Islands the Henry 
Ewbank was pursued by pirates. 
There was great excitement on board. 
The crew, made up for the most part 
of Lascars, was useless and not to be 
trusted, and Captain Tom sent them 
all below. Every precaution was 
taken, even to greasing she ship’s 
sides and chain plates with slush. 
‘We had nothing to do but wait,”’ 
says Capt. Slocum. ‘Nor did it ap- 
pear we should wait long. Capt. Tom 
lighted a cigar and paced the quarter- 
deck while the rest of us remained at 
our stations. Once he stopped and 
called me to him.”’ 
‘««¢Have you written up the journal 
today ?’ he inquired.” 
6 oVegisines ~ 
“¢ Well, how 
head ?’” 
«“««North 76 degrees, west, 9,985 
miles, sir,’ I replied.” 
««<« God bless her !’ he said in a low 
voice, and then shouted : 
“« Mr. Dixey, why don’t you keep 
all those Lascar niggers below !’”’ 
does Mary Jane 
Many of our readers will readily re- 
call hearing Capt. Tom telling his 
experiences of this trip. 
SHOT AT BURGLAR. 
Former Manchester Men Encounter Burglar 
in Needham. 
Howard Catheron and his two sons, 
Allison G. and Robert S. Catheron, 
all of whom are well known in Bev- 
erly and Manchester, figured in an 
exciting affair at Needham, early 
Tuesday morning when a burglar who 
was later identified as a well known 
crook by the name of Edward Hart- 
mett ttied to get off with a load of 
valuables from the house of which Mr. 
Catheron is caretaker. 
Mr. Catheron was once engaged in 
the grain business on the North Shore 
and later was caretaker of the W. B. 
Walker estate at West Manchester. 
A few years ago he left and moved to 
Needham where he is caretaker of the 
John T. Morse, jr. estate of about 200 
acres. Both his sons are attending 
Harvard professional schools, and live 
at home. 
Last Tuesday morning about 4 
o’clock Mr. Catheron was suddenly 
awakened by the loud twanging of a 
burglar alarm in the cottage where he 
lives. There are burglar alarms fitted 
to the lodge which sounds a gong in 
the dwelling of the caretaker, and 
when Mr. Catheron heard the alarm 
he knew at once there was something 
wrong at the lodge. 
Quickly the household was aroused 
and with rifles Mr. Catheron and his 
two older sons started across the fields 
for the lodge a quarter of a mile away. 
Once there they could see a light 
flickering and a man busying himself 
filling a bag with valuables. They 
did not disturb him, but awaited his 
exit, which was bya cellar window. 
Before departing, however, the fel- 
low went to the pantry to get some- 
thing to eat. He devoureda pint of 
cream and about half a pound of raw 
steak. When he was ready to depart 
the father and sons lined up with rifles 
in hand. 
«‘Throw up your hands,” shouted 
Mr. Catheron as the burglar jumped 
from the window. 
But instead of throwing up his 
hands the fellow dropped his booty 
and made ready to pounce upon Mr. 
Catheron. But before he could do so 
Mr. Catheron and one of the sons 
fired. Both shots took effect. 
The police and a doctor were sum- 
moned. The latter ordered the burg- 
lar removed to the Massachusetts 
General Hospital where it is now said 
the fellow will recover. At first he 
gave his name as Smith, but he was 
later identified as Edward Hartmett, 
a notorious character of Dedham. 
The many friends of John Collins 
will be sorry to learn of his serious 
turn of ill health this week. 
