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"They seem to think, down in Noank, that living as you do and giving everything away is satisfactory to you but rather hard on your wife and children." "Well, it is true that she did feel a little uncertain in the beginning, but she's never wanted for anything. She'll tell you herself that she's never been without a thing that she really needed, and she's been happy."
He finally mastered Greek and Hebrew after a fashion, and finding the word "repent" frequently used, and that God had made man in the image of Himself, with a full knowledge of right and wrong, he gravitated toward the belief that therefore his traducers in Noank knew what they were doing, and that before he needed to forgive them though his love might cover all they must repent.
On New Year's morning it was his custom to visit all the poor and bereaved and lonely in Noank, taking a great dray full of presents and leaving a little something with his greetings and a pleasant handshake at every door. The lonely rich as well as the lonely poor were included, for he was certain, as he frequently declared, that the rich could be lonely too.
She went about some little work at the side of the house, and in a moment Charlie Potter appeared. He was short, thick-set, and weighed no less than two hundred pounds. His face and hands were sunburned and brown like those of every fisherman of Noank. An old wrinkled coat and a baggy pair of gray trousers clothed his form loosely.
A stout, comfortable-looking man was sitting by a window on the left side of the house, gazing out over the valley. "Is this where Charlie Potter lives?" I inquired of one of the children. "Yes, sir." "Did he live in Noank?" "Yes, sir." Just then a pleasant-faced woman of forty-five or fifty issued from a vine-covered door. "Mr. Potter?" she replied to my inquiry. "He'll be right out."
He once told his brother-in-law that one New Year's Day a voice called to him in church: "Elihu Burridge, how about the lonely rich and poor of Noank?" "Up I got," he concluded, "and from that day to this I have never neglected them." When any one died who had a little estate to be looked after for the benefit of widows or orphans, Burridge was the one to take charge of it.
From operating a small grocery at the close of the Civil War he branched out until he sold everything from ship-rigging to hardware. Noank was then in the height of its career as a fishing town and as a port from which expeditions of all sorts were wont to sail. Whaling was still in force, and vessels for whaling expeditions were equipped here.
"The whole story of the trouble between him and Palmer; how he comes to be at outs with all these people." "Well," he began, and here followed with many interruptions and side elucidations, which for want of space have been eliminated, the following details: Twenty-five years before Elihu had been the leading citizen of Noank.
Noank is a little played-out fishing town on the southeastern coast of Connecticut, lying half-way between New London and Stonington. Once it was a profitable port for mackerel and cod fishing. Today its wharves are deserted of all save a few lobster smacks.
She was going to the Saturday evening market in the city below. "Here she is," he said. "Now you can ask her." "What is it?" she inquired, turning a serene and smiling face to me. "They still think, down in Noank, that you're not very happy with me," he said. "They're afraid you want for something once in a while."
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