silent worship which went up to Heaven, was heard by Him who answers
prayer. As a signal for dispersing, the elders who occupy the "rising
seats," arise and shake hands, and you go your way with those silent
ones, feeling that their worship was acceptable to God. The Quakers of
Nantucket are rapidly diminishing in number. Formerly two-thirds,
perhaps, of the population, were of the Society of Friends, but now not
one-third are of that denomination. As their children come up, they are
not true to the faith, as were their fathers, and they put off the plain
garb for the fashions of the day. A Quaker in Nantucket will in time
come to be a great curiosity. Their places will, we fear, be filled by
none more upright. Heaven bless them!

Nantucket of the present is not Nantucket of the past. Her quaint,
old-timeness has given place to customs and manners more in accordance
with things common-place. Yet her originality has not entirely forsaken
her; she has a character even now, peculiar to herself. The wild waves
come tumbling in, their glad shouts ringing through the midnight
stillness with the same zest as of yore; and the same starry skies,
which looked down on the fair maiden of a century ago, still bend over
her children's children, as they tread along life's rugged way.
Occasionally you may meet with one who has long since passed the
meridian of life, one, perhaps, who has never been off of the island of
his birth; and he will tell you of the Nantucket of the past, before her
peaceful shores had been invaded by the stranger; when they might lay
them down to sleep, without thought of bolt or bar, save old ocean's
faithful bands. You will learn of Nantucket from the beginning down to
the present time. Then the island was big with prosperity. Her sons were
not obliged to leave their homes for a five years' voyage, in search of
the monster from which they gained their chief maintenance, for there
were then good fishing grounds near the shore, and often the whale might