The Old South Meeting-House is not to be passed without mention.  It is among the most aged survivals of pre-revolutionary days.  Neither its architecture not its age, however, is its chief warrant for our notice.  The absurd number of windows in this battered old structure is what strikes the passer-by.  The church was erected by subscription, and these closely set large windows are due to Henry Sherburne, one of the wealthiest citizens of the period, who agreed to pay for whatever glass was used.  If the building could have been composed entirely of glass it would have been done by the thrifty parishioners.

Portsmouth is rich in graveyards—­they seem to be a New England specialty—­ancient and modern.  Among the old burial-places the one attached to St. John’s Church is perhaps the most interesting.  It has not been permitted to fall into ruin, like the old cemetery at the Point of Graves.  When a headstone here topples over it is kindly lifted up and set on its pins again, and encouraged to do its duty.  If it utterly refuses, and is not shamming decrepitude, it has its face sponged, and is allowed to rest and sun itself against the wall of the church with a row of other exempts.  The trees are kept pruned, the grass trimmed, and here and there is a rosebush drooping with a weight of pensive pale roses, as becomes a rosebush in a churchyard.

The place has about it an indescribable soothing atmosphere of respectability and comfort.  Here rest the remains of the principal and loftiest in rank in their generation of the citizens of Portsmouth prior to the Revolution—­stanch, royalty-loving governors, counselors, and secretaries of the Providence of New Hampshire, all snugly gathered under the motherly wing of the Church of England.  It is almost impossible to walk anywhere without stepping on a governor.  You grow haughty in spirit after a while, and scorn to tread on anything less than one of His Majesty’s colonels or secretary under the Crown.  Here are the tombs of the Atkinsons, the Jaffreys, the Sherburnes, the Sheafes, the Marshes, the Mannings, the Gardners, and others of the quality.  All around you underfoot are tumbled-in coffins, with here and there a rusty sword atop, and faded escutcheons, and crumbling armorial devices.  You are moving in the very best society.

This, however, is not the earliest cemetery in Portsmouth.  An hour’s walk from the Episcopal yard will bring you to the spot, already mentioned, where the first house was built and the first grave made, at Odiorne’s Point.  The exact site of the Manor is not known, but it is supposed to be a few rods north of an old well of still-flowing water, at which the Tomsons and the Hiltons and their comrades slaked their thirst more than two hundred and sixty years ago.  Oriorne’s Point is owned by Mr. Eben L. Odiorne, a lineal descendant of the worthy who held the property in 1657.  Not far from the old spring is the resting-place of the earliest pioneers.