The poet was deeply interested. “Yes,” he answered her, “it ought to be opened.” And in a moment he added, “We will have it opened.” And in his own beautiful way Whittier told the true story of Valentine Bagley, an old-time worthy of Amesbury, of his shipwreck, his desert wanderings, his final rescue, and the carrying out of his resolve to save others from, at least, one of his many sufferings--thirst. The poem tells how by the side of the road running from what was then the village to the old ferry crossing the Merrimac, the returned wanderer dug this well for the benefit of all who were thirsting as they passed by it. But it had been choked up by neglect and abuse. Whittier’s poem, however, rescued it from this neglect and lifted it into fame. This is how “The Captain’s Well” came to be written. And the thousand dollars which the poet received for it from the “New York Ledger” served also some other benevolence. Of this poem he wrote to his sister’s dear friend and his own: “I enclose a copy of ‘The Captain’s Well,’ though perhaps thee have seen it. There were some mistakes in it. Hundreds of copies of it have been sold in Amesbury and as many in Newburyport. I don’t think much of it myself. When will you [herself and party] return?” [from Bermuda], he adds. “We miss thee very much and shall be glad to see thee back again.” * * * * * Among the relics kept in the Whittier Home in Amesbury, the house now owned and opened to the public by the “Whittier Home Association” of that town, is an old cradle that belonged to Valentine Bagley, the hero of “The Captain’s Well.” And in the Amesbury burying ground, not far from the poet’s own grave, is the grave of this Valentine Bagley, with an epitaph in the style of many others of that time. It reads: “His languishing head is at rest, Its thinking and aching is o’er, His quiet, unmovable breast Is moved by affliction no more.” In a letter to the writer, to whom Whittier spoke frequently of his own work, he said of a song of his, “My poem in the ‘Atlantic’ is not a very nice one--matter of fact and not poetical; but it tells a sorry story of the old time.” This is an illustration of how his world-wide fame never convinced him that he had reached the highest upon his own lines; he always looked beyond for it--happily for himself and for the world. * * * * * In a letter written December, 1881, he says: