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Updated: June 17, 2025
"Yes, Lucy is a pretty girl, Such lubly hands and feet, When her toe is in the Market-house, Her heel is in Main Street. "Oh take your time, Miss Lucy, Miss Lucy, Lucy Long, Rock de cradle, Lucy, And listen to de song."
The town is since that very handsomely rebuilt, and the neighbouring gentlemen contributed largely to the relief of the people, especially by sending in timber towards their building; also their market-house is handsomely built, but the church not yet, though we hear there is a fund raising likewise for that.
Beyond, as I looked round, were the Colleges, the meeting-house, the little square market-house, long vanished; the burial-ground where the dead Presidents stretched their weary bones under epitaphs stretched out at as full length as their subjects; the pretty church where the gouty Tories used to kneel on their hassocks; the district schoolhouse, and hard by it Ma'am Hancock's cottage, never so called in those days, but rather "tenfooter"; then houses scattered near and far, open spaces, the shadowy elms, round hilltops in the distance, and over all the great bowl of the sky.
Jim said he hadn't ever seen a bigger one. He would a been worth a good deal over at the village. They peddle out such a fish as that by the pound in the market-house there; everybody buys some of him; his meat's as white as snow and makes a good fry. Next morning I said it was getting slow and dull, and I wanted to get a stirring up some way.
Everyone joked about him. He went into the market-house and came to a woman who was buying things that no one else would buy. "What do you want, youth?" said she. "The price of the skin and the skin itself," said Gilly. She took the skin from him and plucked the wool out of it. She put the wool in her bag and put the skin back on the board.
Some such trite reflection as apposite to the subject as most random reflections are passed through the mind of a young man who came out of the front door of the Patesville Hotel about nine o'clock one fine morning in spring, a few years after the Civil War, and started down Front Street toward the market-house.
Sir Hugh Cholmley also built a market-house for the town, and removed the bridge to its present position. Owing to rebuilding, neither of these actual works remains with us to-day, but their influence on the progress of Whitby must have been considerable.
These words disturbed young Perry Whaley, as he drove his horses into the hotel stable and slowly pursued his way across the public plot or area, past the old square brick Methodist church, already lighted brightly for a special evening service, though it was a week-day. He passed next the small, echoing market-house and the Episcopal church, and court-house yard.
The morning in question, though cold, was dry and bright; a small platform had been raised at the edge of the market-house, which was open on one side, and on it Father Matthew was to stand. By this simple means he would be protected from rain, should any fall, and was sufficiently accessible to prevent any extraordinary crush among the postulants.
The market-house buildings then reached only to Fourth street; the town in this street extended westward scarcely so far as Ninth street; good private dwellings were seen above Fifth street; Mr. Morris' was perhaps the best; the garden was well enclosed by a wall. Hyde was butler. Curtis was the writer of the "Reminiscences" we have so frequently quoted.
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