By Peter F. Stevens

A roadways project that comes in on time and on budget? In the land of the Big Dig? That's exactly what happened when Nicholas Clap, of Dorchester, with Moses Paine and Gregory Belcher, both of Braintree, designed and built a road from latter-day Quincy to Dorchester and Roxbury in 1655.

After taking measurements and scouting their route, the trio went to work. They recorded their project in Dorchester's Town Records:

"First, that the way shall be four Rodd Wide from Brantre [sic] bounds to roxbury bounds: secondly beginning near Henry Crane's house, the Way to Lye on the Sowtheast [sic] side of it in the old Beaten roede waye [sic]: and so to a Low White oake [sic] marked on the same side of the waye and so by the marked trees to the brooke [sic]: so from the Brooke the way being Lade [sic] in the Winter we agreed to take about a rod wide into Anthony Golliford's lot where the fence interrupts the waye: and so to a marked post towards John Gill's howse [sic]: from thence to a stake in Elder Kingsley's yard and from thence to the mill in the old beaten roade waye..."

The route ended in Roxbury, and while today's contractors and crews might chuckle at the quaint 17th-century "road gang's" reliance upon marked trees and posts, taxpayers now footing the cost overruns might long for the bottom-line efficiency of 1655 Dorchester road-builder Nicholas Clap and his associates: they finished their project on time and met their budget. Who says that change is always for the better?

Of that Colonial thoroughfare, in the late 19th Century William Dana Orcutt notes: "As nearly as can be estimated, this must have been the road which now runs over Milton Hill, from Quincy, to the Lower Mills, and then over Washington Street, in Dorchester, to Roxbury." No mean engineering feat in 1655.

Worried about the sort of miscreants who might wander into Dorchester via that engineering feat, Dorchester's Town Meeting enacted a number of laws designed to keep "rough trade" moving along that road and quickly out of town, and, as Dorchester's Colonial records show, the laws were applied.

Orcutt writes: "Many of the old laws...seem utterly absurd and unreasonable to us of this later date. For instance, an attempt to enforce such a law as that passed in 1659, concerning 'strangers,' would be apt to call forth at least the accusation of inhospitality. This law began by defining what strangers should reside within the jurisdiction [Dorchester], and how they should be licensed, and then went on to state that if any of the townspeople should entertain any sojourner or inmate in his house more than one week without first obtaining a license from the selectmen, he would be liable to a fine." If visitors had not worn out their welcome, a scramble by their hosts to the Town Meeting selectmen was a necessity.

A pair of "strangers," John Brown and John Hoppin, received the proverbial heave-ho in 1677 for "having no settled place of abode." In the following year, visitor Robert Stiles learned that newcomers who did not yet own their own home or property and "tarried too long" in Dorchester were, in the opinion of the Town Meeting, suspect. He was ordered to report to local leaders to explain his lengthy stay and to provide them an account of the "manner in which he spent his time."

In 1677, Robert Spur broke the town's "guest laws" and was called in front of the meetinghouse congregation. His offence? "Giving entertainment in his house to loose and vain persons." A fine, as well, perhaps, of a lecture on the perils of vanity, made him think twice about throwing future get-togethers in his home.

At about the same time when Spur was charged with having too much fun, Samuel Rigby, neither a vagrant nor a visitor just passing through Dorchester, upset his neighbors by "cutting up" around town. Rigby's actions &emdash; "the sin of cursing, excessive drinking, and the neglect of attendance upon the public ordinances" &emdash; led to an uncomfortable session in which he "had to answer" in church to his pastor and neighbors. Apparently, he reformed his ways or else imbibed and cursed afterwards in private.

As in the case of Samuel Rigby, 17th-century Dorchester resident John Merrifield also had a taste for spirits. To make matters worse in his neighbors' collective eyes, Merrifield, while under the influence, ranted and railed against the "spirit" that most townspeople embraced: when he was hauled in front of the gathered community at the meetinghouse, he was charged with "drunkenness, and also for contempt and slighting the power of Christ in his Church." Merrifield, like his fellow miscreants, left the meetinghouse with his a stern reprimand, a warning against future misdeeds, and a lighter purse.

In 17th-century Dorchester, the wages of many sins literally had a pricetag, as many who rode or walked into town on Nicholas Clap's road soon learned. Had there been a road sign leading into the settlement, it could have read, "Welcome to Dorchester &emdash; But Behave or Be Gone."

(Peter F. Stevens's newest book, The Voyage of the Catalpa &emdash; A Perilous Journey and Six Irish Rebels' Flight to Freedom, Carroll & Graf, will be published on March 1, 2002.)