sure of a lumber freight home. Indeed, as I remember, these vessels did practically the entire lumber business of the town. Capt. Paty died in California July 24, 1849, and Capt. Battles died in Plymouth March 1, 1872. There were other packets besides those of Plymouth seen in our waters. There was the Juventa, a Kingston packet, and there were the Duxbury packets Union and Glide, commanded by Capt. Martin Winsor, the Spy, the Jack Downing, Capt. Holmes, the Traveller, Capt. John Alden, and the Reform, so that with the fifteen running to and from the three towns there was rarely a day in suitable weather when more than one did not pass the old square pier. In addition to all the above, the Barnstable packet sloop Henry Clay not only passed within sight, but frequently sought an anchorage in the Cow Yard, or came to the wharves. The distance by stage of Barnstable from Boston induced a large passenger traffic, and she was fitted with a handsome cabin extending to the main hatch, lighted by skylights, and containing ample and luxurious accommodations. There was one other vessel to whose memory I wish to pay a tribute on account of the pleasant fishing parties on board of her, in which I have participated. Her name was the Rainbow, but whence she came, what her regular business was, and whither she went, I never knew. She was a queer craft, sailing well on the starboard tack, but as dull as a log on the port tack. She would loaf along up Saquish channel with the wind southwest, but after rounding the pier she would come up Beach channel like a race horse. She reminded me of the story of a traveller, who said he saw in South America a race of goats made with two long legs on one side and two short ones on the other, so that they could walk easily round the mountain side. A sailor in the group cried out: “Belay there, Captain, how did them air goats sail on t’other tack?” CHAPTER VIII.