Henry Jocelyn’s at Ferry Rock.
A cheerful air hath this house, tis here come night, that the gentlemen do assemble for to sip mulled wine, spiced and tasty, or to drink deep draughts of warm ale, feasting on carroway comfits, a-discoursing on the politics which do afflict this Province. The young folk preferred nuts and cider betwixt their games of forfeits
Tis a big room, this kitchen. On the right hand is a vast chimney, on the left, a dresser stored with ware and pewter. In the corner, a cupboard. Other furnishings be an oaken chest, a settle, a scrutoire, sundry high-back chairs and the family-board ever ready and never too strait for another guest. Great logs do blaze in the chimney, cheerful to behold and none too warm for these nipping winter nights. Candles of bay-wax there be, fragrant and fair. By day the sun strives to enter through window-panes of waxen paper. Little need have we for arms or bannerets, for deer’s antlers with Henry’s fowling-piece and powder-horn adorns the walls. Strings of red peppers, dried apples, and comely quarter-moons of yellow pompions do depend from the rafters. On the mantel piece ever sits the tinder-box with flint and steel, ready for instant use.
Sept. 15, 1644.
Touching this town, it groweth apace. Why, we could count half a score of families within the borders of Black Point, even now. Likewise, a brisk trade in fishes is afoot. The drying stages they be ever laden, and the procedure itself, is well worth trouble to witness. Tis ever the same order, -catching, curing, drying, packing, shipping.
Somewhile ago ’twas agreed for to remove from the ’’Ferry Rocks” to a more convenienter dwelling. Hither came we, master and mistress, man and mayde, as also sundry beasts and cattle, -’tis now better than three months back.
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Old Houses In Scarborough
Tis nobly situate, this habitation. Conceive a pretty peninsula of no great size, begirt by a fair bay which doth oven its arms to the sea only on its southernmost Quarter. Across the bay, among the trees, sits the settlement of Blue Point, and behind that, the mountains. This residence itself, stable and commodious, doth overlook a pretty cove where the water laps in with soft soughing by night and by day. Tis not nigh so bluff nor so boisterous as the Ferry Rocks, but comfortabler, by odds. The ferry’s a good two mile distant.
William Foss born November 26th 1771
