Any one who did not live in Nantucket was called a foreigner. To show their attitude a schoolboy was asked to write a thesis on Napoleon, and he began by stating that “Napoleon was a great man and a great soldier, but he was an off-islander.” In fact, it was an act of condescension for a Nantucketer even to shake hands with a “Mainlander,” and there are many of the older islanders to-day who have never set foot on any other soil. Most of the inhabitants were Quakers, and there was a saying that a Nantucketer was half Quaker and half sailor. Though their cemetery contains about ten thousand graves, there are only half a dozen tombstones in one corner of the field. There are no “Friends” in Nantucket to-day. The following incident shows the Quaker thrift, to which was due in a great measure their success in whaling. When the first chaise was purchased, the owner was about to take a drive in it, but, after a few minutes’ deliberation, decided it was too progressive, and would subject him to criticism, so he loaned it only to invalids and funeral parties. Billy Clark was town crier, and for forty years, up to the time of his death in 1909, he voluntarily announced with a bell and horn the arrival of all whalers and steamers. Once as he went along ringing, a girl asked him rudely where he got his bell, and his reply was, “I got my bell where you got your manners,—at the ‘brass foundry.’” Nantucketers declare that his death was due to the fact that he actually “blew his lungs away.” The Chase family has always occupied a most prominent position in the history of the island. One of the family was Reuben Chase, who served under John Paul Jones on the “Ranger,” and on his death the following epitaph was placed on his tombstone:— “Free from the storms and gusts of human life, Free from its error and its strife, Here lies Reuben Chase anchored; who stood The sea of ebbing life and flowing misery. He was not dandy rigged, his prudent eye Fore-saw and took a reef at fortune’s quickest flow. He luffed and bore away to please mankind; Yet duty urged him still to head the wind, Rumatic gusts at length his masts destroyed, Yet jury health awhile he yet enjoyed, Worn out with age and shattered head, At foot he struck and grounded on his bed. There careening thus he lay, His final bilge expecting every day, Heaven took his ballast from his dreary hold, And left his body destitute of soul.” Every islander knows the story of the Nantucket skipper who claimed that he could always tell where his ship was by the color and taste of the lead after sounding. Marden, his mate, on one trip determined to fool him, and for this purpose brought some dirt from a neighbor’s garden in Nantucket. He woke up the skipper one morning off Cape Horn, and showed him the lead, which had been smeared with this dirt, whereupon, to quote the words of James Thomas Fields,—