Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Half Title
 In Cambridge with patriots and...
 On Lexington Common
 Among the embattled farmers
 On Bunker Hill
 In greater New York
 Along the Delaware
 On the Schuylkill and thereabo...
 Up the Hudson
 Promenading with Burgoyne
 From the sea to the sand-hills
 Among the Carolina Highlands
 In a region of rivers
 On the heights above York
 Back Cover

Title: The century book of the American revolution
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00086589/00001
 Material Information
Title: The century book of the American revolution the story of the pilgrimage of a party of young people to the battlefields of the American revolution
Alternate Title: Story of the pilgrimage of a party of young people to the battlefields of the American Revolution
Physical Description: vii-x, 2, 249 p. : ill. ; 25 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Brooks, Elbridge Streeter, 1846-1902
Depew, Chauncey M ( Chauncey Mitchell ), 1834-1928 ( Author of introduction )
Century Company ( Publisher )
De Vinne Press ( Printer )
Sons of the American Revolution -- Empire State Society
Publisher: The Century Co.
Place of Publication: New York
Manufacturer: De Vinne Press
Publication Date: c1897
Subject: War -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
War stories -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Uncles -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Brothers and sisters -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Cousins -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Friendship -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Storytelling -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Soldiers -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Courage -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
History -- Campaigns -- Juvenile fiction -- United States -- Revolution, 1775-1783   ( lcsh )
Politics and government -- Juvenile fiction -- United States   ( lcsh )
Description and travel -- Juvenile fiction -- Atlantic States   ( lcsh )
Juvenile literature -- 1897   ( rbgenr )
Travelogue storybooks -- 1897   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1897
Genre: Juvenile literature   ( rbgenr )
Travelogue storybooks   ( rbgenr )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- New York -- New York
Statement of Responsibility: by Elbridge S. Brooks, with an introduction by Chauncey M. Depew ; illustrated.
General Note: Pictorial cover.
General Note: At head of title: Issued under the auspices of the Empire State Society of the Sons of the American revolution.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00086589
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002222904
notis - ALG3151
oclc - 228677902

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Page i
        Page i-a
    Front Matter
        Page ii
        Page iii
        Page iv
    Title Page
        Page v
        Page vi
        Page vii
        Page viii
    Table of Contents
        Page ix
        Page x
    Half Title
        Page xi
        Page xii
    In Cambridge with patriots and poets
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
    On Lexington Common
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
    Among the embattled farmers
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
    On Bunker Hill
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
    In greater New York
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
    Along the Delaware
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
    On the Schuylkill and thereabouts
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
    Up the Hudson
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
    Promenading with Burgoyne
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
    From the sea to the sand-hills
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
    Among the Carolina Highlands
        Page 193
        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
    In a region of rivers
        Page 211
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
        Page 216
        Page 217
        Page 218
        Page 219
        Page 220
        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
        Page 226
        Page 227
        Page 228
    On the heights above York
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
        Page 232
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
        Page 239
        Page 240
        Page 241
        Page 242
        Page 243
        Page 244
        Page 245
        Page 246
        Page 247
        Page 248
        Page 249
    Back Cover
        Page 250
        Page 251
        Page 252
Full Text

1 X!

.... .....

....... .



The Bald win Libran,
l rn.ds "
RmB n,

I I IIJ'IC-~L I ~I ~ ---~I r r I



~L~5~2cn~4n ~

Stber books in tbe same series anb bp *
Sthe same author.

[] The Story of the Government.
Issued under the auspices
M of the National Society of
* the Sons of the American Revolution. *
SWith introduction by
S President-General of the Society.

The Story of a Young People's
H Pilgrimage to Historic Homes.
Issued under the auspices
S of the National Society of the
Daughters of the American Revolution.
With introduction by
President-General of the Society.
Uniform with tkis book in size and style. Each
containing 25oages and nearly as many ills-
trations. Price of each, $i.S.
T mXI nI* if m*T I*IW

5 *..:.LiB~T A-'-

Lt '













Copyright, 1897, by The Century Co.




A FEW years ago the suggestion was made to The Century Company by Mr.
John Winfield Scott, a member of the Executive Committee of the National Society
of the Sons of the American Revolution, appointed a committee of one for the
Executive Committee, that The Century Company should issue a book in which
should be set forth in a manner attractive to young people "the principles contended
for in the American Revolution, and a description of the institutions of the Govern-
ment." The result of this suggestion was embodied in The Century Book for
Young Americans," the story of the trip of a party of young people to the city of
Washington, written by Elbridge S. Brooks and richly illustrated from the great
store of material which the publishers possessed. The book was issued in the autumn
of 1894, indorsed by the National Society, and with an introduction by General
Horace Porter, President-General. Its success has been great, both as a book for
children at home and for supplemental reading in schools, and in 1896 it was followed
by "The Century Book of Famous Americans," written also by Mr. Brooks, telling
of the adventures of the same young people and their well-posted uncle on a journey
to the homes of historic Americans, Washington, Hamilton, Webster, Clay, Jefferson,
Franklin, Lincoln, Grant, and others. It was issued under the auspices of the
National Society of the Daughters of the American Revolution.
The same publishers purpose offering to the public a volume in which the story
of the American Revolution, from Lexington to Yorktown, shall be told in such a
way as will interest young readers, and, at the same time, possess valuable informa-
tion for old as well as young in its descriptions of the historic scenes made famous
during the struggle of our forefathers for their independence. The book will have
a living and personal interest because it takes the form of a journey to each of these
historic places by the same party of young people and their guide. The illustrations,
which include many photographs taken especially for this book, will add both to the
attractiveness and the value of the work.
The Empire State Society of the Sons of the American Revolution is not respon-
sible for the statements in the book and has no pecuniary interest in its publication.
Individually, I take pleasure in commending the volume both in its scope and
execution. CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW,


A Visit to Cambridge- Uncle Tom's Enthusiasm- Three Great Poets and
Three Historic Houses -A City of Memorials- From the Vikings to the Boys
in Blue- Uncle Tom's Suggestion-An Object-Lesson in America's Revolu-
tionary Story.

On the Road to Lexington-Changed Condition of the Country-The Stone
Cannon-Lexington Village and Its Famous Common- The Story of the Fight
The Monument- The Memorials and the Old Houses- Uncle Tom's Sum-

How They Came to Concord-Dr. Prescott's Ride- Where the Congress Met-
At Concord Fight- The Old Monument- The Statue of the Minute-man- The
Story of the Retreat-Dr. Hale's Poem- Sites and Scenes in a Famous Old

IV ON BUNKER HILL ........ ..... .............. 55
Climbing the Monument- The View from the Top-=- Tracing the Battle-ground
-The Redoubt- Colonel Prescott- Warren and Putnam- The Story of the
SAssault- Victory or Defeat? Webster's Oration The Tablet on Dorchester
Heights- The First American Victory.

V IN GREATER NEW YORK ....... ................ 73
Along the Shore Line-H-istoric Towns- The British Plan--Ticonderoga and
Quebec- In Old New York The Battle of Long Island- The Great Retreat
Harlem Heights and White Plains- The Fall of Fort Washington.

Where Washington Crossed- The Wintry March The Dash on Trenton -A
Turning Point in the War--Princeton's Battle-ground-In "The Lair of the
Tiger /"


By Brandywine Creek Old-time Obstacles The Fight at the Ford and on the
Hill- Where Lafayette was Wounded- The Chew House- The Street Fight
at Germantown A Baffling Fog- At Valley Forge An Object-lesson in
Self-sacrifice--At Monmouth Court-house-.The Monument at Freehold -A
Gallant Foeman.

VIII UP THE HUDSON .. .... .. . . . 139
The Hudson as a Historic Waterway-Its Great Beacon-lights-- The Neutral
Ground-The Cow-Chase--Dobbs Ferry-Andre"s Fate-Stony Point-
Newburgh and West Point- Washington's Noblest Deed.

At the Springs- Burgoyne's Promenade- Oriskany and Bennington Schuyler
and Gates--The "Lone Tree" of Walloomsac-The Bennington Monument-
Across Country to Schuylerville-Freeman's Farms and Bemis Heights-The
Saratoga Monument- The Vacant Niche The Surrender Spot.

X FROM THE SEA TO THE SAND-HILLS . .... .. .... 175
By Sea to Savannah Where the British Landed--The Siege of Savannah--
A City of AMonuments-Fascinating Charleston- The Defense of Fort Mioultrie
The Battle of Eutaw Springs.

The Balmy Breezes of Camden-An Old-time Hill-town- The Battle of Camden
Gates the Blunderer- The Deserted Village-De Kalb's Monument- The
Hogback of Hobkirk's Hill-King's Mountain and its Hero-story-A Monument
on a Hilltop.

From King's Mountain to Cowpens- Why Cowpens ?-Morgan vs. Tarleton--
The Old Monument- The Statue in Spartanburg- The Hornets' Nest-A
Land of Liberty-A Splendid Battle-park- The Field of Guilford--A Most
Important Battle.

The Sun on the Monument-After Guilford--Marion's Men--Cornwallis at
Bay- The French Alliance- The Last Assault- The Surrender- Old York-
town -Home Again.


In the distance is seen Craigie House, which was Washington's headquarters and Longfellow's home,





A Visit to Cambridge- Uncle Tom's Enthusiasm- Three Great Poets
and Three Historic Houses-A City of Memorials-From the Vikings
to the Boys in Blue- Uncle Tom's Suggestion-An Object-Lesson in
America's Revolutionary Story.

HAT a spot this is, boys and girls!" Uncle Tom Dunlap
exclaimed, with an impressive sweep of the hand. "The
atmosphere is fairly charged with patriotism; the air throbs
with memories. I know of no spot in the whole country
that is more absolutely a center of American interest than
this old town of Cambridge. I know of none better calcu-
lated to make you young people proud of America and of what America has
Uncle Tom spoke with more than his customary enthusiasm. It was
evident that he felt all that he said.
He sat with his young people on the broad stone seat of the Longfellow
Memorial in the old college town of Cambridge in Massachusetts. It was
the same group of boys and girls that had gathered about him, as, on their
personally conducted trip to Washington, he helped them study the gov-
ernment of the United States of America in its own house and home; it
was the same group of eager young people that had taken, with him, the
tour of inspection among the homes of great and famous Americans.
Once again they had all met in Boston-Jack and Marian Dunlap,
their cousin, Albert Upham, and Marian's "best friend," Christine Bacon.
Uncle Tom Dunlap, as usual, had taken charge of them, and that morn-


ing they had welcomed, at their hotel, their boy friend of the Hub,"
Roger Densmore.
Their first trip had been to Cambridge.
"We did n't see half enough when we were there before," Bert com-
"That 's so," Roger admitted. "We ought to give more time to it.
There 's lots to see there, you know; and besides, it 's a good place to
start frqm if you want to see more things. Is n't that so, Uncle Tom ? "
Uncle Tom emphatically indorsed this statement, and they were speed-
ily flying in "the electrics" through that wonderful piece of modern engi-
neering, the big underground Subway," out through Boston's stately
Back Bay, and across the graceful Harvard Bridge, to what Uncle Tom
called "the classic shades" of Cambridge.
Roger, as a prospective Harvard boy, had been their guide through
the beautiful University town; and even Jack, who was preparing for Yale,
and Bert, whose educational future still lay unsettled between Princeton,
Yale, and Cornell, were forced to admit that Harvard and its surroundings
were, as Jack declared with characteristic emphasis, "Just great!"


Under Roger's guidance they had "done" the colleges from the beauti-
ful gates to the dormitories and the "gym," from Memorial Hall to the
Agassiz Museum, and from the Fogg Art Museum and the Library to the
tennis-courts on Jarvis Field, the "tree" in the quadrangle where the class-
day scramble is held, and-what especially interested- the girls-the
rounded walls of Radcliffe.
From here, after reading the tablet under the decrepit Washington elm,


they had wandered up Brattle Street, and, entering the green little park
known as the Longfellow Memorial, they had dropped upon its broad
granite seat to rest and look about them.

This statue, by Miss Whitney, is located on Commonwealth Avenue, in Boston, just above
where that boulevard is crossed by Massachusetts Avenue, which extends for
nearly twenty miles to Lexington and Concord.

Then it was that Uncle Tom uttered his exclamation. So suggestive
was the spot that the boys and girls unconsciously echoed his sentiments.;
though Bert, ever ready with his query of investigation, tacked to his
appreciative "that 's so !" his inevitable "but why?"
I '11 tell you why, Mr. Bert," his uncle replied. Stand up, all of you,
while I box the patriotic compass. Before you, if certain over-confident
antiquarians are to be believed, lie the beginnings of historic America."
"What! over there in the swamp? asked Jack.
"The marsh, if you please, sir," corrected Roger. "The idea of calling
Longfellow's beloved marshes a swamp!"


Yes, there, through its marshes, winds the historic Charles River,
upon whose banks, almost against the Cambridge Hospital yonder, Pro-
fessor Horsford claimed to have discovered the cellar of Leif Ericson's
fish-house-the first stone house, so he declared, built by Europeans in
America, almost five hundred years before the caravels of Columbus tacked
across the 'herring-pond.' "
Leif Ericson !" exclaimed Marian. Was n't his the beautiful statue
we saw on Commonwealth Avenue ?"
Yes," Uncle Tom assented.
Oh, but he 's just a fake,'" Jack declared. My teacher said so."
"You don't really believe that story, do you, Uncle Tom?" queried
Bert, with a tinge of skepticism.
I '11 discuss that question with you later, boys-say at Norumbega
Tower ?" Uncle Tom replied, with a non-committal shrug.
Oh! what's Norumbega Tower?" Christine asked, attracted by the
rhythm of the name.
"It's a stone tower on the Charles River, ten miles above here," Roger ex-
S- plained. "Professor Horsfordput it up,
on the very rocks which, so he said, were
Part of the fort and city of Norumbega,
built by Leif Ericson the Norseman in
Sthe year one thousand and one. It 's
an awfully nice place for a picnic, girls.
And the canoeing!--well, you must
just see it before you go home."
"Which--the town or the canoe-
ing ?" laughed Marian.
Both," replied Roger, gallantly,
"one is historic and you 'll make the
other so."
And there we '11 have our dis-
cussion over Leif Ericson," said Uncle
Tom. "Just now-I wish to consider
other things with you. Only, permit
me to remark, ladies and gentlemen,
the singular coincidence that places
Leif Ericson's stone house here, on
NORUMBEGA TOWER. the Charles, within sight of the house
Erected on a knoll above the river. The tablet set in its face of the great poet who wrote 'The
tells the whole story. A flight of stone steps within
leads to the outlook on the top. Skeleton in Armor.' "


The famous Craigie House, used by Washington for his headquarters in Cambridge. The room on the right of the front
door was Washington's office and Longfellow's study. The chamber over it was the General's bedroom.

"That 's so!" cried Jack. "Perhaps that sad old sea-dog stood right
here where we stand to-day, and shouted

'I am a viking bold!
My deeds, though manifold,
No skald in song has told,
No saga taught thee!
Take heed that in thy verse
Thou dost the tale rehearse,
Else dread a dead man's curse-
For this I sought thee!'

Look out! Marian; he may be right behind you now," and Jack ended
his quotation with so shrill a viking's "skoal!" that Marian jumped aside in
terror, and everybody else laughed.
"Let the viking rest, Jack," said Uncle Tom. "True or not, here is
the beginning of the story, and, perhaps, though scholars scoff at the idea,
the beginnings of the white man in America. Let me get on with my com-
pass. Behind you, rising above its tall green hedge, is Longfellow's house,


-a Mecca for Cambridge pilgrims. There he wrote 'The Skeleton in
Armor'; there he wrote 'Paul Revere's Ride'; there he wrote 'The Build-
ing of the Ship'-that splendid poem that drew tears from President Lin-
coln in the dreary war-days, and which, with its stirring closing lines, has
thrilled countless Americans for over forty years. And in that very house,
long before Longfellow was born, George Washington lived, when, here in
Cambridge, he took command of the American army."

Occupied by Washington as his military office. Behind it is the poet's library, which was used
as a staff-room by General Washington.

Under that big elm, you know," put in Roger, that you saw in front
of Radcliffe College. They say it's over three hundred years old."
What-the college ?" said Jack.
"The college!" echoed Marian, scornfully; "the elm, of course. What
a goose you are, Jack Dunlap! Don't you know the girls' college is some-
thing new? "
Oh, is it?" said Jack. I did n't suppose there was anything new in
Cambridge. I thought the flavor of antiquity covered everything here,-


Leif Ericson, Washington, Radcliffe, and Harvard's last base-ball victory
over Yale."
Uncle Tom paid no attention to Jack's rather flippant remarks, but took
up the thread of his broken discourse.
"To your right," he said, "there, beyond the trees of the Common,
stood, until a few years ago, next toc what is now the fine Law School
building, the old-fashioned, roomy, gambrel-roofed house where lived the
boy Oliver Wendell Holmes, who afterward wrote 'Old Ironsides' there."

Nail to the mast that tattered flag,
Set every threadbare sail,
And give her to the god of storms,
The lightning and the gale,"

spouted Jack.
Only they did n't, you know," said Roger. "The frigate Conslitution
-' Old Ironsides,' as she was called-was built here in Boston, and is
scheduled to drop anchor this year at the Navy Yard, at the mouth of this
very Charles River."
"Just think of it," said Chris-
tine, what lots of things of that
sort there are around Boston !"
"Why not? It's the Hub of ,
the Universe-eh, Roger? Jack
said, in what the Boston boy de- N
cleared to be "the regular New
York tone."
"Well, right here is where the
American Revolution commenced,
so why is n't it the hub?" de-
manded Bert.
"Why not ?" was Uncle Tom's
comment. "And in the old
Holmes house near the Law
School, of which I told you, the
Committee of Safety held its
meetings when the American Rev- STAIRWAY IN THE OLD HOLMES MANSION.
solution was beginning. There, To the right, at the foot of the stairs, was the room in which the
occupation of Bunker Hill was planned.
too, at the opening of the fight,
were held the first councils of war, for that home was the headquarters of
the first American commander-in-chief, General Artemas Ward."


"What! Artemus Ward, the funny man?" cried Jack. "Was he a
general in the Revolution ? "
"No, no, Jack; how mixed up you do get! said Roger. Why, my fa-
ther heard Artemus Ward
S_-- \, ~ lecture; so he could n't
---_ have been a general in
the Revolution."
S That's only a make-
believe name-what you
call a nom de plume,"
Bert explained. "Your
Artemus Ward, Jack, was
America's first funny
man; his real name was
Browne. Uncle Tom's
Artemas Ward was
I_ America's first major-
Sgeneral-the command-
.-: er-in-chief before Wash-
Here Benedict Arnold and his Connecticut Volunteers were quartered just after the Is n't that so, Uncle
battle of Lexington. The house was used as a hospital after Bunker Hill.
"That 's about it, Bert," his uncle replied, with his smile of approval.
It 's just another coincidence, the same as Longfellow and the viking's
house, I suppose," said Marian. Go on, Uncle Tom; Jack does break
in so."
"Over here to your left, across the tree-tops," Uncle Tom went on,
"stands Elmwood, the house in which James Russell Lowell lived, and
where he wrote what, I think, is America's noblest poem his splendid
'Commemoration Ode.'"
Oh, yes, is n't that fine !" said Christine. Don't you remember how
it ends ? I had to learn those lines at school.

'0 Beautiful! my Country! ours once more!
Smoothing thy gold of war-disheveled hair
O'er such sweet brows as never other wore,
And letting thy set lips,
Freed from wrath's pale eclipse,
The rosy edges of their smile lay bare,
What words divine of lover or of poet
Could tell our love and make thee know it,


Among the nations bright beyond compare?
What were our lives without thee?
What all our lives to save thee?
We reck not what we gave thee;
We will not dare to doubt thee,
But ask whatever else, and we will dare.'"

Grand, is it not, boys and girls ?" Uncle Tom exclaimed, baring his
head to that magnificent sentiment of the poet.
"And that 's where Lowell wrote it over there at Elmwood, is it?"
said Jack. Seems to me there must be something in the Cambridge air
that just sets poetry a-sprouting; who knows what might happen if I should
come here to Harvard, eh, Roger ? "
Jack a poet! The idea was so funny that they all fell to laughing, much
to Jack's disgust. When they had sobered down, Uncle Tom went to
boxing his compass again.
"The Elmwood house is very much like Longfellow's home, and has,
like Longfellow's, a Revolutionary history. It was the mansion of Andrew
Oliver, the Tory Lieuten-
ant-Governor of Massachu-
setts, and it was mobbed
by the angry patriots be-
cause Oliver took charge of
the hated British stamps
that brought about the row.
After Oliver left the country
the house became the home
of Elbridge Gerry, one of
the signers of the Declara-
tion of Independence."
"Well, well; Cambridge
was 'right in it,' from the
start, was n't it?" said
"I told you it was a THE WADSWORTH HOUSE.
center of American inter- Built in x726 for the president of the college. A British shell just grazed it, and
ests," said Uncle Tom. Washington, who had occupied it, removed to safer quarters in the Craigie House.
ests, said Uncle Tom.
Now, just keep still for a moment, will you, and let me try to give you the
steps in American history that we can lay our fingers on, right here in Cam-
bridge-town. There, on the Charles, the Norsemen, so it is said (let us
grant, for the sake of historic steps, that they did), built the first house in


America. In those college buildings, in Harvard Square, or in the older
ones that these have replaced, have gone to school men who built them-


selves and their memories into the history of the republic. Here met the
Provincial Congress, the Committee of Safety, and the council of war in
the days that precipitated the American Revolution. Yonder is the old
church whose organ-pipes the rebel soldiers melted into bullets for Bunker
Hill. Wadsworth House in the College yard, and the Longfellow house,
upon which we are looking, were both occupied by Washington when he
came here to Cambridge to organize revolution. Along Brattle Street, in-
cluding the Longfellow house, stood the fine old loyalist mansions that gave
the street its nickname of "Tory Row." Under that old elm by Radcliffe,
General George Washington took command of the American army, and
upon the Common, beyond it, that army was drawn up for review. On that
Common, Roger showed you the sturdy young elm grown from a shoot of the
old elm and planted there in the centennial year of 1875. Close by the young
elm rises the tall monument, topped by a splendid soldier-figure, in memory
of the men of Cambridge who rallied to the defense of the flag in the Civil


Under this tree Washington took command of the American Army, July 3, 1775. Radcliffe College is on the right in
the picture. Cambridge Common, with the growing shoot from the old elm, is at the left.

War. Across the trees, overlooking all Cambridge, rises the imposing tower
of Memorial Hall, an honor in stone paid by the great University to all her
brave sons who fell in defense of the Union; and, just across the river,


stretches the wide meadow upon which the college boys meet in the glori-
ous tussle for mastery in base-ball and foot-ball. It is called Soldiers' Field,
a gift to the college, and perpetuating by its name, as does Memorial Hall,
the brave boys in blue who marched to defend what Americans in Cam-
bridge, a century before, first strove for and attained. Was I not right
when I told you the atmosphere hereabouts was charged with patriotism,
that it just throbbed with memories? And, of these memories, two stand
out above all others the two so singularly linked by that old square, yel-
low house across the way, in which these two
men lived and labored for America, though
in such different fashion -Washington the
soldier, and Longfellow the poet; the man
Whose sword and the man whose pen have
inscribed imperishable names in the history of
the republic that so loves and honors them."
"Somehow, Uncle Tom," said Christine, just
a bit dreamily, as she leaned against the stone
coping of the Longfellow Memorial and looked
across the street to what had so long been the
poet's home, I keep thinking of what Long-
fellow himself wrote after he had stood, one
.- morning, before Lowell's gate at Elmwood.
PAUL REVERE. Does n't it fit both the great men who have
lived over the way, and the others, too, who
have made Cambridge famous? I wonder if I can remember the last

'Sing to him, say to him, here at his gate,
Where the boughs of the stately elms are meeting,
Some one hath lingered to meditate
And send him unseen this friendly greeting;
'That many another hath done the same,
Though not by a sound was the silence broken;
The surest pledge of a deathless name
Is the silent homage of thoughts unspoken.'"

That's awfully nice, Christine, of course," said Jack, while all the others
nodded approval, "only I call it rather rough on Uncle Tom, after he 's
been spouting away here for half an hour."
Christine colored up at Jack's bit of sarcasm. You don't understand
what I mean, Jack," she said. But Uncle Tom does," and, with a con-


fident smile, she slipped her hand into that of their "guide, philosopher, and
friend," as Bert loved to call his uncle.
As for that young gentleman, he was trying to dovetail history and
poetry into a fixed fact. For Longfellow's name and Revolutionary sur-

From which, on the night of April 18, 1775, Revere's signal-lights were hung. It is now
known as Christ Church. The spire is a new one, built since x804. A tablet on
the front gives the story of the lanterns.

roundings had recalled to Bert's mind the poet's stirring ballad of a certain
famous gallop that had set the fires of liberty ablaze.
Let 's see, Uncle Tom; Paul Revere did n't ride through Cambridge,
did he ?" Bert inquired.
No, his route lay through Charlestown and Medford. But Cambridge
had its 'fate-of-a-nation' rider in William Dawes. He was Paul Revere's
double, and he set out for Concord even before Paul Revere started. Of
course," continued Uncle Tom, "you know the story, and why Revere rode


with news. The people were restless; they were angry with the King of
England for his tyranny, and were ready to protest in something more than
words. The King's men in Boston were watchful and active; they knew
the spirit of the people, and hastened to possess themselves of the war-stores
the people were gathering at different
points about Boston. Their spies were
abroad; they knew where the muni-
tions of war were stored; they set out
to destroy them. One expedition
cleared them out at Salem; another
successfully raided the old powder-
house at Winter Hill."
"That old powder-house is still
standing, you know," broke in Roger.
SThe city of Somerville has made a
public park of the hill on which it
stands. I want you to see it before
you go.
"We must, Roger," said Uncle
OLD POWDER HOUSE, SO. Tom. "It is one of the few really Rev-
Formerly a mill. Here in September, 774, British olutionary relics left us hereabouts.
soldiers seized and carried off the colony's Well, the Committee of Safety was
store of powder.
sitting in Cambridge; a watch was set
to keep an eye on the King's men, and when William Dawes rode through
the little college town with word that the regulars were to march to Con-
cord next day to destroy the stores collected there, the minute-men gath-
ered, and from Cambridge and all the near-by towns marched toward Con-
cord to help save the powder and stores upon which their success depended.
Some of the men belonging to this section gathered here for their work,
and, as they straggled past the Holmes house, where, years after, the poet
was born, the Cambridge minister stood in the doorway and bade his neigh-
bors Godspeed on their errand. Next day--the historic nineteenth of
April, 1775-came that famous fight."
Oh, Uncle Tom, can't we go to Lexington and see where the battle was
fought ?" cried Marian, full of enthusiasm to find herself so near the scene
of that world-renowned conflict.
"Why not ?" said Uncle Tom. I think it would be an excellent plan
for us to ride to Lexington and Concord, to-morrow, and recall the story of
the fight on the very spot. What do you say, Roger ?"
I say yes," Roger replied, catching the spirit of the suggestion. If


you say so, I '11 get a wagonette and we '11 start from here bright and
"A patriotic picnic, eh?" said Jack. "I vote for it with both hands."
The plan was unanimously agreed to. And so it came to pass that,
next day, Uncle Tom and his tourists, coming out from Boston after an
early breakfast, rode from Cambridge along the very road over which, so
many years before, the British red-coats had marched on their hostile
errand. For, as Uncle Tom said, there is nothing like getting the lay of
the land if you really wish to understand things; and, just then, there was
nothing his young people wished more to understand than just how things
looked on the village green at Lexington and that famous North Bridge
at Concord, where once
"the embattled farmers stood
And fired the shot heard round the world."

Thus it was that the tour of the Revolutionary battle-fields was begun by
Uncle Tom Dunlap and his young Americans.

View from the piazza of the Craigie House, looking south.

c ,p

The old battle monument is in the foreground. To the left the road runs on toward Concord. The real battle-ground is further to the right, and there the later memorials stand.





On the Road to Lexington-Changed Condition of the Country- The Stone
Cannon-Lexington Village and Its Famous Common- The Story of
the Fight- The Monument- The Memorials and the Old Houses-
Uncle Tom's Summing-up.

HE wagonette, with its freight of battlefield students, left the
college quarter of Cambridge on a glorious morning.
"What a day for a ride, and what a ride to take!"
was the composite remark of the five happy ones, as, with
Uncle Tom in the corner, and a driver who, though Cam-
bridge-born and bred, knew little beyond his horses, they
drove by Wadsworth House, and past the old First Church and the
ancient mile-stone.
In the shadow of the Washington elm,-which, by the way, a certain
learned professor of American history says is no Washington elm-but
who will agree with him?-the horses turned to the right and were
soon chasing the electrics up the wide thoroughfare of North Avenue to
Through that pleasant old town they rode, and were speedily on the
Concord turnpike, following the track taken by Dawes, the messenger of
danger, and by Smith, with his files of destroying red-coats, on that starlit
April night so many years before.
Do you suppose it was much built up here in the days of the Revolu-
tion, Uncle Tom?" Marian inquired.
"Scarcely at all, my dear," her uncle replied. "The highway from
Cambridge to Lexington Common ran then through farmlands, with but
an occasional house beside it. One hundred and twenty years in this
growing country make quite a difference in the looks of things, you know.
When the Revolution broke out, Arlington, which we have just left behind


us, was known as Menotomy; this section through which we are now
riding was called Cambridge Farms, and Lexington village was a collection
of a few houses, grouped about the meeting-house on the green, and with
a population, in village and outlying farms, of scarcely more than five hun-
dred. To-day the town has a population of five thousand. This is why
it is hard, in this country, for the antiquarian to locate historic events.
The march of improvement and the growth of population have been so great
that old landmarks have been swept away; roads have been widened and
graded, hills leveled, valleys filled, streams obliterated, villages merged into
towns, and towns into cities, and the whole face of the land so changed and
'adapted' that one who seeks to point out the exact spot where some
famous man was born, or some notable event occurred, has to draw upon
his imagination, and give the atmosphere rather than the exact surround-
ings. Pray bear that in mind, boys and girls, when we are trying to dis-
cover or replace the relics of our historic past."
But can you really call the battle of Lexington a battle, Uncle Tom? "
inquired Bert.
In the strict military sense," Uncle Tom replied, it was not a battle;
it was scarcely even a skirmish. A battle conveys the idea of military
maneuvers, of strategy, charge and countercharge, the shock of squadrons,
or the duels of artillerists. There were none of these at Lexington. In
the sense that Saratoga and Gettysburg, Waterloo and Sedan were battles,
Lexington, of course, is, as Jack would say, 'not in it.' "
"Very kind of you, Uncle Tom," said Jack, with an air of injured inno-
cence, "to charge up all your convenient slang against me. But go ahead;
I 'm not objecting."
Lexington," Uncle Tom resumed, with a wave of recognition toward
Jack, "was simply an 'affair.' It was an organized resistance to what was
considered an unlawful violation of the rights of English subjects -for the
colonies were English still; they were not in open nor armed rebellion.
Indeed, the records on both sides, after the fight at Lexington, are filled
with affidavits made by American and British participants in the affair,
alleging that no hostile move was intended, and that no open resistance was
made. You see, neither side wished to take the responsibility of saying
'We began the war.' The action of the minute-men was an armed protest
rather than a real battle. But its results were unparalleled by any battle
of ancient or modern times; for from it sprang the American Revolution,
and the American Revolution was the corner-stone of American nationality
and of the world's progress in liberty."
Yes, I know," said Bert; I have read somewhere that Samuel Adams,


when he heard the firing at Lexington, exclaimed: This is a glorious
morning for America.'"
Samuel Adams was a prophet, Bert," Uncle Tom replied. He
looked beyond the present; he read the future correctly; he knew the

In front of which Lord Percy's reinforcement of British soldiers formed for the march to relieve their comrades at Lexington. The chapel
was built in 1749. Some of the Colonial governors and other people of note in colony days are buried in the old cemetery adjoining.

temper of the people and saw that out of that conflict would spring, through
all the colonies, the determination to be free. That is why the country
through which we are riding and the town we are approaching are as
famous as Thermopyle, or Waterloo, or Sedan."


So, with talk and laughter, with eyes open to see the beauty of the
rural landscape, and ears attentive to all the details of the day that made
the region famous,. they rode to Lexington. The highway ran on past

]ESTMRU T1TXc Oo TEA lor BOBTar lAlBOma.
From an old print.

stretches of green fields, patches of woodland, trim market-gardens, and
suburban estates, with here a modern house, and close beside it a patri-
archal relic of colony days.
They drove slowly by every tablet set in fence or wall or house front
telling them that here such an event occurred or that there lived such an
one who participated in the fight, until, at last, they climbed the slope
where, before the temple-like High School building, a mounted cannon,
carved in stone, pointed toward the clustering houses of Lexington just
"What is it a petrified British battery ?" queried Jack.
"Well, you 're not so far out of the way, Jack," Uncle Tom replied.
"That stone cannon marks the site of the British battery with which Lord
Percy hoped to petrify the fighting colonists."
"And did he?" asked Marian.
"Well, hardly," exclaimed Roger, with pardonable pride.
Go slow, my dear Boston boy," said Uncle Tom. I am afraid the
truth of history scarcely bears out your enthusiasm. If to petrify means to
check, the field-piece of Lord Percy, planted where the stone tablet stands


and on that hill-top over there, on 'Percy Road' across the way, certainly
did check the advance of the pursuing colonists as they drove the tired red-
coats through the village we are now entering."
They found Lexington to be, as they rode through its main street, a
large and pleasant New England village -"quite citified," Marian declared,
as she noted its brick blocks, its spacious and attractive houses, its modern
school and church buildings, and its signs of trade and life. There were
trees everywhere, whose leafy boughs cast a grateful shade upon the broad
street and the triangular plot of green before which the driver reined up
his horses and Uncle Tom bade them all alight.
"This, boys and girls," he said, is one of the most famous bits of turf
in all America-the battlefield of Lexington Common!"
Then, standing beside the pulpit-shaped monument of red granite that
marks the site of the old meeting-house, Uncle Tom briefly rehearsed the
story of the Lexington fight.
"You know how it all came about," he said. The tea had been thrown
overboard at that wharf we saw in Boston. There was trouble brewing. The
British were on the hunt for hidden war-supplies. Gage, the English com-

On the entrance to what is now Long Wharf, Boston. There the tea-ships Dartmouth, Eleanor, and Beaver lay, when their
cargoes of tea were thrown into the harbor.

mander at Boston, had sent out soldiers to collect or destroy the powder
and stores said to be gathered for war purposes by the colonists. Follow-
ing out this plan, he had sent troops to Concord, eighteen miles from Bos-


"It belonged to relatives of John Hancock, and there he and Adams were sleeping when roused and warned by Paul Revere."
It is within sight from the boulder tablet It was built in 1695, enlarged in 1734.

ton, where, he had been told, war supplies were stored. They were also to
arrest, on their way, those two persistent rebels and ringleaders, John
Hancock and Samuel Adams. By some means (it is said through the wife
of Gage, a New Jersey woman) the secret leaked out, the signal lanterns
were displayed in the North Church of Boston, and Paul Revere and Wil-
liam Dawes rode, by different roads, toward Concord, spreading the alarm.
On that very night of the eighteenth of April, Gage sent Colonel Smith
with eight hundred British soldiers on the errand of destruction. Boston
had no bridges, so the troops were ferried across the Charles River from
what is now the Public Garden or Arlington street to East Cambridge, then
called Lechmere Point. They marched across the marshes, and, striking
the Concord highway, where now stretches Massachusetts Avenue, passed
through North Cambridge, Arlington, and Lexington. Here where we
stand, by this pulpit-like monument and that elm-tree back of us (planted
by President Grant on the nineteenth of April, 1875), stood the old meeting-
house -a square, boxlike building facing down the street, up which, just
as we have come, marched Major Pitcairn and his six companies of light


infantry and marines sent in advance by Colonel Smith to clear the way,
and, if possible, to arrest Hancock and Adams."
"Where were they? inquired Roger.
In that house which you can just see on the Bedford road across the
railroad track," Uncle Tom replied, pointing out the old Hancock-Clark
House. It belonged to relatives of John Hancock, and there he and
Adams were sleeping when roused and warned by Paul Revere. They es-
caped to the woods,
though against
Hancock's desires,
for he wished to
stay and face the
British. With them,
too, escaped young
Dorothy Quincy,
who afterwards be-
came Mrs. John
"Oh, was n't she
the delightful Dor-
othy Q.'of Holmes's
poem ?" exclaimed
Christine. "I re-
member he says of
her portrait:

'Hold up the canvas full
in view -
Look! there 's a rent the
light shines through,
Dark with a century's
fringe of dust:
rapier thrust i Showing injuries received from British bayonets during the Revolution.

"Ah no," replied Uncle Tom, "that charming young lady she was
young, you know, Christine,-

'Grandmother's mother; her age I guess,
Thirteen summers, or something less,'-

was aunt to the Dorothy Q. who married Hancock. They were captivating


young ladies, both of them; but really we must tear ourselves away from
them, for here comes Major Pitcairn ready to pop into us.
Lexington, as you know, had been warned of the coming of the regu-
lars by Paul Revere, and, at two o'clock in the morning, the bell of the
church, which hung, not in the church steeple,- for the church had no stee-
ple,- but in an odd kind of belfry built on the ground very near the church,
rang out the summons. The Lexington farmers (who were called minute-
men, because they were pledged to rally in case of danger 'at a minute's
notice') hurried to the meeting-house, but as there were no signs of the
British the minute-men were dismissed. At half-past four news came of the
advance; the drum beat to arms; out of the Buckman Tavern,-that old
house by the elm-tree, just over the way,-and from other houses near by,
the minute-men came hurrying to the Common. Their leader was Captain
John Parker, a big, brave man. He drew his men in line right here," and
Uncle Tom led his tourists to the big granite boulder ten rods to the right
of the meeting-house memorial. He sent such of his men as had no am-
munition into the meeting-house where the powder was stored, and then he
said-what did he say, Marian?
of Read what is carved on the
i ir o boulder, just beneath the mus-
ket and powder-horn."
Then Marian read from the
c arved boulder Captain Parker's
words to the minute-men:
'Stand your ground. Don't
fire unless fired upon; but if
they mean to have a war, let it
begin here.' "
Here, then, they stood,"
THE BUCKMAN TAVERN. continued Uncle Tom, "seventy
Rallying-place of the minute-men on the night before the battle Lexington farmers, against they
of Lexington and directly opposite the battle-field.
knew not how many British
soldiers, trained in the art of killing. Through the dim light of the early
morning came the red-coats. They. halted near the meeting-house, and
Major Pitcairn rode toward the Ameridans. Disperse, ye villains; ye
rebels, disperse!' he commanded. But they would not."
"Well, I guess not," cried Jack, who was growing excited over the story.
"That was n't what they were there for."
Pitcairn flourished his sword before the Americans," Uncle Tom went
on, and, I am sorry to say, swore at them, and added, 'Lay down your


Jonathan Harrington's house is the one on the left. To the front door, seen in the picture, he dragged himself to die at
his wife's feet.

arms, I say. Why don't you lay down your arms and disperse ?' Still- they
did not obey, and what he would have done next or just how he would have
made them disperse I cannot say. For, as I told you, the British had no
wish to begin hostilities, and Pitcairn really did not desire to fire upon the
rebels. But just then one of the minute-men,- probably a fresh' young
fellow, Jack, who was excited, heedless, and 'worked' up,-in disregard of
Captain Parker's order, raised his gun and snapped it at the British."
Good for him !" cried Jack.
"What, against orders, Jack?" said Bert.
"I don't care; I would have done it too," Jack declared.
"Yes, I 'm afraid you would, Jack," his uncle assented with a significant
nod, and then added, "The gun, you know, was one of the old-fashioned flint-
lock muskets,-perhaps it was n't loaded, perhaps the minute-man snapped
it 'just for a bluff,' as you boys say. At any rate the gun did not go off; but
the flint struck the steel and the powder flashed in the pan. A British
soldier saw the flash; he saw his major turn to give an order of some sort,


and, just as much 'rattled' as the minute-man, he aimed and fired. A few
other British soldiers followed suit. But no one was injured, and the
Americans supposed the guns were loaded with blank cartridges and that
the whole affair was just a scare. But the British blood was aroused, and
though Pitcairn struck his staff into the ground as an order to desist firing,
his soldiers disregarded or did not understand his command. With a loud
huzza they fired a general discharge. The musket-
balls plowed into the 'rebel' ranks. Jonas Parker
dropped to his knees; Ebenezer Munroe's arm fell
helpless at his side; now one and now another of that
Si. *! heroic band sank beneath British bullets; up the street
came the tramp of the main body of grenadiers,
marching to the support of their comrades. Eight
hundred against seventy was unequal odds. The
minute-men had done what they were assembled to
do: they had made their protest; and with a few
scattering shots in reply, the minute-men dispersed.'
The British, wreathed in the smoke of the deadly
THE MEETING-HOUSE volley they had just fired, let fly another broadside,
BELFRY. gave a cheer of victory, and, wheeling about, marched
Built in 1761. It formerly stood on to Concord."
on the common, but it is now
on Belfry Hill opposite the The young people drew a deep breath as Uncle
Hancock school-house. Tom concluded, and looked about them.
"And here it happened," said Marian. "My, my,.it does n't seem possible! "
It is sometimes hard to re-make surroundings," said Uncle Tom. In
this case, although the town has been filled with houses, the roads leveled,
and the Common made into a beautiful lawn, we can still look upon some
of the very witnesses of that famous fight. Among the relics in the Cary
Library, down the street, is the tongue of the very bell that rang out the
summons in the meeting-house belfry. On that hill, just beside the fine
Hancock school-house, stands that same queer old belfry. Right across
from us, on Monument Street, that house marked with a tablet is the
Marrett-Munroe house, toward which young Caleb Harrington was running
with powder from the church when he was shot down by the British. Into
the Buckman Tavern, over the way, the colonists bore their wounded, and,
to the left there, on Elm Avenue, at the corner of the Common, that house
with the tablet is the one to which Jonathan Harrington, shot down by
British bullets, dragged himself, only to die on the doorstep at his wife's
feet. There are, in fact, of the forty houses that made up this village of
I See frontispiece, reproducing Sandham's painting of the battle.


Lexington at the time of the battle, eight yet standing which were witnesses
of that famous fight. And yonder, on the western edge of the Common,
that gray and ivy-draped monument covers the bones of our first martyrs,
and is said to be the oldest memorial of the American Revolution in the
land. Let us walk around and inspect it."
They did so, and on the rounded knoll upon which stands the old monu-
ment, surrounded by an iron fence and clothed in its coat of ivy-green,"
the visitors studied the quaint old shaft which, with neither grace of con-
struction nor beauty of ornamentation, yet means more to Americans, and

A witness of the fight. Opposite the monument on Lexington Common, and to the left of the battle-ground. Built in 1729.

even more to the world, than any of the world-famous memorials that tell of
historic happenings in the old Europe over the sea.
"This monument was erected in 1799 the year in which Washington
died," Uncle Tom announced. "The bones of the martyrs were removed
here from the old burying-ground in 1835 and placed in a stone vault just
behind the monument. The inscription here on the front was written by
the Rev. Jonas Clark, who was the minister of the old meeting-house on
the Common at the time of the battle. It is as inspiring as it is quaint.
Can you make it out, Bert?"


Bert settled his glasses firmly on his nose, and, shading his eyes from
the sun, slowly read out the inscription on this, the oldest Revolutionary
monument in the country:

Sacred to the Liberty and the Rights of Mankind!!!
The Freedom and Independence of America,
Sealed and defended with the Blood of her Sons.

This 'Monument is erected
By the inhabitants .of Lexington
Under the patronage 'and at the Expense of
the Commonwealth of Massachusetts
To the memory of their Fellow Citizens,
Ensign Robert Munroe, and Messrs. Jonas Parker,
Samuel Hadley, Jonathan Harrington, junr.,
Isaac Muzzey, Caleb Harrington and John Brown,
of Lexington, and Asabel Porter of Woburn,
Who fell on the Field, the First Victims to the
Sword of British Tyranny and Oppression
On the morning of the ever memorable
Nineteenth of April, An. Dom. 1775.
The Die was Cast! !!
The Blood of these Martyrs
In the cause of God and their Country
Was the Cement of the Union of these States, then
Colonies, and gave the spring to the Spirit, Firmness
and Resolution of their Fellow Citizens.
They rose as one Man to revenge their Brethren's
Blood, and at the Point of the Sword, to assert and
Defend their*native Rights.
They nobly dar'd to be free!!
The contest was long, bloody and affecting.
Righteous Heaven approved the solemn appeal,
Victory crowned their arms, and
The Peace, Liberty, and Independence of the United
States of America was their Glorious Reward.

"Whew! said Jack, as Bert concluded. But that 's a long one, is n't
it? I guess old Brother Clark thought folks had lots of time when he
made that up."
Oh, Jack, how can you say so ? Christine protested; and Marian said,
"Why, I think it 's just splendid. It reads just as folks talked and wrote
a hundred years ago-all capitals and exclamation points and dignity."
"Seems to me Marian's just struck it, has n't she ?" said Roger. "That
old monument is a sample of the way people worked and talked when it was
built-solid and stilted, and yet, after all, simple and strong. I can't help


thinking, though, that we do things better nowadays. While Bert was
reading I could n't help comparing this inscription with the short but splen-
did one on Milmore's grand Sphinx on Chapel Hill in Mount Auburn
Cemetery at Cambridge. I want you all to see that before you go away.


And all it says (in English on one side, Latin on the other) is: 'American
Liberty Preserved, African Slavery Destroyed, by the Uprising of a great
People, by the Blood of Fallen Heroes.' "
"That is grand; and it tells the whole story," was Jack's comment.
"Well, but I think this is fine," declared Bert, his eyes still fixed on the
old vine-curtained battle monument. It does n't say too much; it tells
the whole story, and it gives the names of those who fell-we should n't
remember them in any other way."
"I honor your loyalty to the old shaft, Bert," said Uncle Tom, as he
signaled to their driver to bring the wagonette alongside. It sits par-
ticularly well on you, for, did you but know it, eleven of your kinsmen stood
in the line of the seventy minute-men yonder where the musket-boulder
stands, refusing to disperse, not being afraid of the King's commandment';
and to three of the names on this old monument you are related by ties of
blood. Not many American boys can make such a claim."
Jack took off his hat as the girls climbed into the wagonette, and made
a low bow to his cousin. "After you, sir; after you," he said. "Age be-
fore beauty. I 'm not sure but so much noble lineage may overweight the



British troops fired upon Americans on King street (now State street) in Boston, March 5, 1770, killing five men and wounding six,
two of them mortally. The picture is a reproduction of a cut engraved by Paul Revere. The grave of the victims is in the
old Granary Burying-ground on Tremont street. Their monument (see page 33) stands on Boston Common.

carriage and make it one-sided. Don't you think you'd better ride in front
with the driver, my noble son of the Revolution ? "
But, for all his fun, Jack was just as proud of Bert's "heraldry of honor"
as any of the party, and made the most of his reflected light when boasting
of his cousin's claim.
As they headed up the Concord road they all gave a last look at the
historic green they were leaving behind, and Bert, with his customary de-
sire to get down to facts, said, 'Then that, Uncle Tom, is really the spot
where the Revolution began ?"
Broadly speaking, it certainly is," Uncle Tom replied. "As to the actual
first shot and first act of open resistance, however, there are as many claims
as there were colonies. I have always felt that Golden Hill in New York
City has as much claim to the credit of 'first blood' as the Boston Massacre,
where Crispus Attucks and his comrades fell, and which is commemorated
by that slate-pencil sort of monument on Boston Common; a certain North


Carolina village has the same claim; and, no doubt, some day we shall be
talking of putting up a monument to Sukey Carroll."
"Who under the sun was Sukey Carroll? Marian inquired.
"Why," replied Uncle Tom, "she was the Marblehead girl who sang
out to the British soldier who pointed a musket at her, when the King's men
were searching Salem for arms: Do you think I was born in the woods to
be scared by you, you lobster-back ?' Which was spirited, if not polite."
"Was that what they called the British soldiers,- lobster-backs?"
laughed Jack. Did n't that fit their red coats well, though? Good for
But after all," said Uncle Tom, right here in Massachusetts the
American Revolution began. For when James Otis-- that 'flame of fire,'
as some one has called him -gave up his office of Advocate-General and,
in February, 1761, in that room that we saw in the old State House in Bos-
ton, argued the case of the people against the King, 'then and there,' as
John Adams declared, 'American Independence was born.'"
"Oh, yes, I remember about Otis," said Jack. "He's the patriot that
was sandbagged by Tories, was n't he ? "
Yes, and was killed by sunstroke the very year the Revolution suc-
ceeded," said Marian.
"I must show you his statue. It is in the chapel at Mount Auburn,
you know," Roger reminded them.
"That 's the man," said Uncle Tom. "Well, from him and such fore-
runners of revolution as he, came the historic conflict itself, begun under the
elms of Lexington Common where we, to-day, have been re-reading the
But I thought you said both sides denied their intent to fight," said
Jack, "and that our forefathers took their 'Alfred Davids,' as that chap in
'Our Mutual Friend' called them, that the other side began it."
"That is so, in fact," replied Uncle Tom. Neither side had any desire
for a conflict. The colonists had no thought but to obtain their rights, and
were never more loud in loyalty to King George than after Lexington. In-
deed, Mr. Dana argues that not until the Declaration of Independence was
America in revolution. He insists that King George and his parliament
were, in fact, the revolutionists."
Well! that's a new idea! exclaimed Jack.
But why? queried Bert.
"They were going contrary to law, he claims," explained Uncle Tom,
"while the colonists were standing in defense of the law. But, for all that,
Lexington did open the ball, and the minute-men from these very farmlands


through which we are now riding gave to the world a lesson in resistance
to tyranny that has stood from that day to this as a beacon-light of freedom.
I wonder if I can recall Holmes's poem on Lexington. It is peculiarly apt
just here, on the field it immortalizes and in the neighborhood of the site
of the Cambridge house in which it was written."
Let 's have it," urged the boys. Marian said, Do repeat it; while
Christine, with the glance that compels, silently echoed Marian's request.
So Uncle Tom put on his thinking-cap, and, with but few slips and
stumbles, repeated three or four of Holmes's stirring stanzas:

Slowly the mist o'er the meadow was creeping,
Bright on the dewy buds glistened the sun,
When from his couch, while his children were sleeping,
Rose the bold rebel and shouldered his gun.
Waving her golden veil
Over the silent dale,
Blithe looked the morning on cottage and spire;
Hushed was his parting sigh,
While from his noble eye
Flashed the last sparkle of liberty's fire.

"On the smooth green where the fresh leaf is springing
Calmly the first-born of glory have met;
Hark! the death-volley around them is ringing!
Look! with their life-blood the young grass is wet!
Faint is the feeble breath,
Murmuring low in death
'Tell to our sons how their fathers have died;'
Nerveless the iron hand,
Raised for its native land,
Lies by the weapon that gleams at its side.

"Over the hillsides the wild knell is tolling,
From their far hamlets the yeomanry come;
As through the storm-clouds the thunder-burst rolling,
Circles the beat of the mustering drum.
Fast on the soldier's path
Darken the waves of wrath
Long have they gathered and loud shall they fall;
Red glares the musket's flash,
Sharp rings the rifle's crash
Blazing and clanging from thicket and wall.

Green be the graves where her martyrs are lying!
Shroudless and tombless they sunk to their rest,
While o'er their ashes the starry fold flying
Wraps the proud eagle they roused from his nest.


V ~

Monument by Kraus, on Boston Common just to the right of the subway on West street.

Borne on her Northern pine,
Long o'er the foaming brine,
Spread her broad banner to storm and to sun;
Heaven keep her ever free,
Wide as o'er land and sea
Floats the fair emblem her heroes have won!"

"That 's fine, is n't it?" said Roger.
"Sounds like Scott's 'Hail to the Chief' song," declared Bert.


Got a dash and go to it that make you just tingle, has n't it?" said
"And beautiful, too -that about the martyrs," said Christine.
"I think so, my dear," said Uncle Tom; and it is pleasant to know
that our second leader and greatest martyr considered it Holmes's finest
Meaning Lincoln?" queried Bert.
Yes," Uncle Tom replied. Noah Brooks, who was one of his secre-
taries, tells us that Lincoln could not read it through without a tremble in
his voice when he came to the line

'Green be the graves where her martyrs are lying.'

Perhaps he felt in those verses a prophecy of his own end- a death that
was to carry him on in history as our greatest martyr in all the long years
that followed Lexington."
Thus talking and commenting, amid fields and farms and woodlands,
and bright stretches of hill and vale, the boys and girls rode on to Concord,
where the second chapter in that famous story of our first Nineteenth of
April was written in smoke and blood so many years ago.

* '~~V*** r '-c'

Yi <

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2, v

--, '7EV .--: -- -
, -.--_-- _.-" .- _


. _



How They Came to Concord--Dr. Prescott's Ride--Where the Congress
Miet -At Concord Fight- The Old Mfonument- The Statue of the
Minute-man- The Story of the Retreat-Dr. Hale's Poem- Sites and
Scenes in a Famous Old Town.

HERE the Lexington highway joins the old Bedford road
and both are merged into Lexington Street in Concord
town, Marian, with an eye for everything, spied an old
house, a stone wall, and an inscription.
"Oh, Uncle Tom!" she cried, pointing; "there 's a
tablet in that stone wall. Let 's stop and read it."
For reply, Uncle Tom bade the driver touch up his horses.
"I 'm your young Lochinvar, just now, Marian," he declared. "You
know how it was with him -

'He staid not for brake and he stopped not for stone.'

Neither for carriage-brake nor tablet-stone have we any use just now. I
propose to tell you nothing out of chronological order."
"Then I rise to a point of order, Mr. Chairman," said Jack, leaning out
of the carriage to look back. "What 's the matter with the stone ?"
It marks the line of retreat, Jack, and not of advance," Uncle Tom
replied. I propose that, instead of a wagonette-load of volatile young
end-of-the-century Americans, we become one colonial patriot on a fleet
horse- Dr. Samuel Prescott, galloping post-haste from Lexington bearing
the news of the night-march of the British."
"Who was Dr. Prescott?" asked Roger.
"A Concord man," replied Uncle Tom, "kin to a certain Colonel Pres-
cott, of whom you will hear later. Well, we Dr. Samuel Prescott, you


know -have had a hard gallop. But our horse is a fast one, and, by cut-
ting across lots, jumping fences, walls, and ditches, we have narrowly es-
caped the British scouts, and are now
riding into this quaint peace-named
town of Concord which nestles at the
: foot of its sand-ridge and along the
banks of its pretty river. And re-
member we are galloping along a

most famous in America."
"Why? Because of the battle ? "
inquired Bert.
No; no battle was fought just
on this piece of road," Uncle Tom
L f 7 replied. "But because, as we ride,
we are passing the homes of a most
Remarkable group of American
writers and thinkers Hawthorne,
Emerson, Thoreau, and the Alcotts."
Oh! did Miss Alcott live here
on this street?" came the quick
inquiry from every admirer of the
i famous Little Women."
"WE HAVE HAD A HARD GALLOP." "Why, certainly, she-but there!
I am breaking my own rule," Uncle
Tom declared. "We were not to be led aside from our historical sequence.
Presto! vanish all modern things. Disappear, Jo, Amy, Meg, and Beth!
We are Dr. Prescott, the colonial newsbearer, riding on matters of life and
So, beneath the elms that border Lexington street, they rode into Con-
cord town. Uncle Tom resisted all queries and cajolements designed to
lead him from his main purpose, and at last they drew up in front of a large
white church, set well back from the street and topped by a gilded dome.
"Who went to church here?" asked Jack, "Washington or the Little
Women? "
Read the tablet, Bert, while Dr. Samuel Prescott gets his breath,"
Uncle Tom suggested. Here we are at the beginning of things."
Bert adjusted his glasses and read the tablet that stands on the curb in
front of the broad church lawn. The others helped, by reading with him
in a sort of undertone chorus.


Lee was a Tory, and his house at the foot of this hill was used as a target by the minute-men.


Here, you see," said Uncle Tom, as the reading of the tablet ended,
" is where the real trouble began. This provincial congress appointed a
committee of safety, advised the people to pay their taxes not to the King's
officer but to the appointed colonial treasurer, and directed the towns to
double their stock of ammunition and store it up for the use of the colony in
case of armed resistance to the demands of King George of England."
But had they the right to do that," queried Bert.


"Why not?" demanded Roger. "It was their ammunition. Had n't
they paid for the stuff? "
"But they were colonists," persisted Bert. "They were subjects of
King George, and had no right to gather supplies to make war on him."
"No right!" exclaimed Jack. "Well! I guess yes. They took the
right, anyhow."
It was a question of liberty of action and of self-defense," said Uncle
Tom. "Whether or not, they really had the right as subjects of the King,
at any rate, as Jack says, they took it. That is why General Gage, the
British governor, sent out expeditions to hunt up, confiscate, or destroy
these colonial war-stores, and why, as you know, the grenadiers and ma-
rines were marching from Boston to Concord, where supplies were said
to be stored.
But come! While we have been arguing as to rights, here stands Dr.
Prescott with tidings of approaching trouble."
I '11 bet he has n't been standing idle," said Jack. "The whole town
knows his news by this time."
"True enough, they do," Uncle Tom assented. "Already lights are
flashing out and bells are set a-ringing; the townsmen are aroused; mes-
sengers are sent Lexington-way, post-haste, for further tidings; the minute-
men are summoned for duty. Soon after daybreak the messengers come
galloping back, along the very road that
we have traveled, with tidings of the sun-
-. rise skirmish on Lexington Common and
the news that eight hundred red-coats are
S-siwell on their way to Concord.
B "By this time, the minute-men of Acton
'- and of Lincoln, Concord's next-door neigh-
S bors, have reported for action, here, in
Sthe square. There is a hurried consul-
S' station. Emerson, the minister, who lives
Sin the old manse on the next street, is out-
.. .' spoken. 'Let us stand our ground,' he
says. If we die, let us die here.' Others,
HIDING SUPPLIES. however, hesitate, remembering that open
resistance means treason to the King. 'It
will not do for us to begin the war,' they say. So, wishing to do everything
properly, they decide to take post up on that hill, just back of us, and await
developments. More minute-men join them there. Up comes Colonel
Barrett from his home, on that hill yonder across the river, where he has


"Looking down a vista of tall and murmuring pines, they saw a sight they never forgot." This avenue runs from Monument
street to the Minute-man and then stops.

been hiding supplies and burying powder and shot. Silent but determined
they stand and wait, but only for a brief time; for at seven o'clock there
is a gleam of color on the Lexington road, and here, into the square where
we are standing, come the eight hundred British soldiers on the double
Hey, now there 's going to be trouble," cried Jack, deeply interested.
No, not yet, Jack," said Uncle Tom. Colonel Barrett saw that he was
outnumbered. He withdrew from this hill, and marched down to the river
where a country road crossed the bridge and stretched away between the
farms. Then he took position on the hill slope beyond the bridge, hoping
for more help, and waiting the moment to act.
"But the British at once proceeded to business. Their first move was
to take possession of the two bridges that spanned the river,-the north
and the south,-and prevent the farmers from interfering with them. So,
while Smith and Pitcairn with part of the troops held the center of the town
and proceeded to smash things, six companies of light infantry marched on
and, turning yonder to the right, into what is now Monument street, just


beyond the town hall, they pushed on to the North Bridge. My fellow min-
ute-men, the lobster-backs are too many for us. Let us get to the bridge
before them and join our comrades on the hill."
"What! cried Jack; retreat? Never "
Let's not call it retreating, Jack," said Roger. "We '11 say that we 're
marching rapidly in advance of the enemy."
"That 's exactly what we 're doing, boys," laughed Uncle Tom, as the
wagonette turned to the right, into Monument street. "We 've simply got
to get there before them."
A ride of perhaps half a mile past very new and very old houses carried
them across the railroad track to a sharp turn to the left. A signboard on
a tree said Battle Ground, 1775 "; and, looking down a vista of tall and
murmuring pines, they saw a sight they never forgot. It was the battlefield
of Concord.

This view is from a point just in front of the Minute-man. The bridge is a copy of the historic old North Bridge over
which the fight was waged.

"Formerly," Uncle Tom explained, "the road to Carlisle turned off
here instead of going forward as it does to-day. This bit of the old road
has been preserved and set apart as a memorial of the battle."


They drew up beside the old monument while Uncle Tom gave them
the lay of the land.
Here, you see, the Carlisle road crossed the river. The minute-men,
falling back from the hill, crossed the bridge and took station on that slope
just beyond. Here others joined them
-minute-men from Bedford and West- -- -'"
ford, and Littleton, and Carlisle, and
Chelmsford,-about four hundred in all.
The British came down this road and
halted just above where we stand.
Some soldiers were hurried to the South
Bridge, some were sent off on a search
for war-stores, and about a hundred
were left to guard the North Bridge.
Meantime the soldiers left in the village
were unearthing and destroying a few
things. The smoke from their fire led
the Americans to suppose that the whole
village was to be destroyed. Shall we
let them burn the town?' they asked
each other. 'Let us march into the
town for its defense,' they said. Then
brave Captain Davis, of Acton, drew his
sword. 'I have not a man that is afraid :
to go. March!' he said, and, together, .
in double file, the minute-men and militia
marched down the slope toward the
"They struck the Carlisle road; the
British, seeing them coming, began to rip up the bridge planking; the
Americans broke into a run; the British formed in line of battle here where
the old monument stands; the Americans halted and drew up in line at
the other end of the bridge, where the statue stands. Let us cross over
and join our comrades."
They left the carriage in the shade of the pines, crossed the bridge, and
gathered beneath the impressive statue of the Minute-man.
Only for an instant did the farmers and red-coats face each other in
silence," Uncle Tom continued. "Then-bang! went a British musket;
bang! bang! went another and yet another. Two minute-men fell wounded.
Crack--crack--crack! broke a volley from the British. Captain Davis


Upon the other face of the granite pedestal is cut the verse from Emerson.

fell dead across a great stone; another and another are down here where
we stand. England has begun the war.
Major Buttrick, the leader of the minute-men, fairly leaps from the
ground in excitement. 'Fire, fellow-soldiers! For God's sake, fire!' he
cries, and, his own musket leading the fusillade, the first war-guns of the
American Revolution speak out their sharp defiance to the King. Again
and again the shots fly across the bridge. Two British soldiers fall dead;
seven are wounded. Then the firing ceases. The British turn and run
back, down Monument street, toward the town, and the victorious farmers
hold the little bridge they have so manfully defended."
Hooray!" cried Jack, waving his hat in energetic emphasis, as if he
were Major Buttrick himself.
How long did it take?" asked Roger.
Just two minutes," replied Uncle Tom.
Short and sweet," was Jack's comment.
"It was n't really much of a fight, was it?" said Bert. "Just a bit of a


It was the act more than the action, Bert," Uncle Tom declared. It
meant resistance; it meant war and not peace-independence, not submis-
sion. The minute-men at Lexington had stood in silent protest; they
dispersed when once they had asserted their rights even in the face of
death. The minute-men of Concord gave back blow for blow; their guns
were the first declaration of independence. A skirmish ? Yes, Bert. But
a skirmish that was indeed a battle, more eventful in the history of the
world, so Bancroft asserts, than were Agincourt and Blenheim. Come,
cross the bridge with me and read what it says on that old monument, built
on the very site of the British line of battle and dedicated in 1836, in the
presence of sixty survivors of that memorable day."

On the Lexington road. Partly destroyed by fire in 1873. Here Emerson died in 1882.

Marian read aloud, with the usual half-tone chorus of accompaniment,
the inscription on the eastern face of the weather-stained pedestal:
On the 19th of April, i775,
was made the first forcible resistance to
British Aggression.
On the opposite bank stood the American militia
Here stood the invading army,
and on this spot the first of the enemy fell
in the War of the Revolution,
which gave Independence to these United States.
In gratitude to God, and in the love of Freedom,
This monument was erected,
A. D. 1836.


"Now cross again," said Uncle Tom, and at his direction Christine
read the verse carved on the granite pedestal which supports French's
splendid bronze figure of the brave-eyed young Minute-man-one hand
on his plow, the other grasping the ready musket:

"By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood
And fired the shot heard round the world."

Made famous by Hawthorne. It was from this house in a room on the right that Ralph Waldo Emerson's grandfather, the
Rev. William Emerson, watched the fight.

"Who wrote that, boys and girls?" asked Uncle Tom, and, as with,
one voice, the five made answer, Ralph Waldo Emerson."
"Who lived in a square white house on Lexington street, half a mile or
more from here," Uncle Tom added, with a nod of approval; and who
used to spend a good many of his boyish days in that old house to the
left of us, among the trees, where his grandfather lived before him--a
famous old house now, known all over the world?"
"Why?" asked Christine, "is it -is it-?"


Yes, it is," Uncle Tom re-
plied, "the Old Manse, made fa-
mous by Hawthorne."
Oh, let 's go right over there
and gather some mosses," said
You can't," grumbled Jack.
" It says, 'Private Grounds. Tres-
passing strictly prohibited.'"
"How mean!" came the dis-
approving verdict.
Yes; there Hawthorne wrote
his Mosses from an Old Manse';
there Emerson wrote his essay,
'Nature,' and many of his best
poems; and there, from that upper
window, now nearly covered from
sight by its curtain of pines, the
grandfather of the man who wrote
the famous lines on the monument
watched the fight with the greatest
anxiety, fearful that his parishion-
ers-who, it is said, locked him in
to keep him out of danger- would
not return the British fire."
But they did," said Jack,
pointing at the statue.
"What a beautiful statue!"
said Marian, looking up at the fine
but determined face.
What a splendid verse!" said
Christine, studying the pedestal.
"What a great day!" said
Bert, thrilled by all the action of
the time.
"Right you are, boys and
girls," Uncle Tom assented.
Here, indeed, is a remarkable
combination. As some one has
said of it, standing here as we do,



and looking upon this statue of the Minute-man, 'There are few towns
in the world that can furnish a poet, a sculptor, and an occasion.' I think
that 's so, don't you ?."
They lingered long in that beautiful spot. At their feet flowed the
river; above them towered the spirited Minute-man; before them stretched
the beautiful avenue of pines that frames the historic field. The rusty gray
obelisk that tells the story of the fight; the suggestive slab set in the stone
wall to mark the grave of the British soldiers who fell beneath the fire of the
defiant farmers; the bit of old road preserved only because of its historic as-
sociations; the place, the day, the delightful surroundings-everything held
and impressed them, and as they strolled along the avenue of pines to
where their carriage waited for them on the highway, Marian declared, en-
thusiastically, "Splendid! is n't it? It's worth coming miles to see." And
every boy and girl echoed the declaration.
Then they took a last look down the green and piny vista to where,
beyond the bridge, that farmer-boy in bronze stands sentinel beside his
plow, the guardian spirit of that famous field.
"'Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, '" Bert quoted, musingly. Is
that really true, Uncle Tom ? Did the minute-men carry a flag? "
"Why not? asked Jack. What good is a battle without a flag? "
Bert is a born investigator," laughed Uncle Tom. I 'm afraid it's a
case of poetic license. So far as I can discover, no flag was carried by the
minute-men or displayed either at Lexington or Concord. The Nineteenth
of April, 1775, was a protest and not a parade. There was no military or-
der among these farmer-folk. It was a case of every man being a fighter
on his own hook. It began here at Concord, and ended only when the last
harried red-coats found safety under the guns of the English fleet at
Charlestown, twenty miles away."
"That was a great retreat, was n't it?" said Roger.
"Sort of a twenty-mile go-as-you-please, I guess," said Jack. How
was the start, Uncle Tom ?"
Handicapped, Jack," replied his uncle, falling in with the boy's athletic
simile. "The British officers knew they had roused the country-side, and
when they had called in their men and started on the homeward march,
they were so certain it would be a running fight that Smith, the commander,
did everything he could to ward it off. He put flankers' up on that sand-
ridge to protect his line from the provincials, who, after the fight at the
bridge, struck across country over the Great Fields,' as that pasture land
to the left is called. But where the ridge stops at the Old Bedford road,
the flankers on the hill were no longer of avail, and when the retreating

*1~ J


.4 I')



"From all the country round the farmers came hurrying to the relief of their neighbors."

C* '>'

i-. .
&L ___ .^ -T .;,




British struck that point where we saw the tablet at the junction of the Bed-
ford and Lexington roads, their terrible troubles began. We '11 drive up
there now and see the fight."
Which way? asked Roger.
"Well, you see we can't drive across the Great Fields with the minute-
men," Uncle Tom replied; so we '11 have to play that we are the British
for a little while. Here we are, in the square. It 's no use, Jack, we 've
simply got to retreat with the rest of them until we get to the cross-roads.
Then we '11 become minute-men once more. Here is where it went on. For
nearly an hour the red-coats were marching and counter-marching, because,
you see, Colonel Smith, the British leader, was uncertain what to do. Then
came the order 'About face! for Boston.'
By this time the news had spread. From all the country round the
farmers came hurrying to the -relief of their neighbors. Too late Smith
saw that he would have to run the gantlet for home."
Began to see the box he was in, did n't he? said Jack.
"It was a box sure enough," Uncle Tom replied. "The highway
stretched through Lexington to Charlestown and the sea. All along, it was
flanked by stone walls or ran between hills. Behind these the Americans
were posted as if behind breastworks. Here where the sand-ridge is.
stopped by the old Bedford road, was the first exposed place, and here, as
I told you, the trouble began. This is Merriam's Corner. Now, Marian,
you can give us the tablet you wished to read as we came riding into town."
Marian stepped from the carriage, and standing before the tablet set
in the low stone wall, read it aloud:


"That 's literally true," Uncle Tom remarked. "They were really
'driven' to Charlestown."
Under a hot fire?" queried Bert,
Never hotter," replied his uncle. "Here the Medford and Reading
minute-men joined their Concord brethren and began the stone-wall fight
that lasted for nearly twenty miles. On the Lincoln ridges the Woburn
men took a hand and Pitcairn lost his horse; before Lexington was reached


Where Major Pitcairn vowed vengeance on the rebels." This house has suffered less change than any other building in Concord.

the men who had faced the British on the green that morning 'pitched into
them.' At Fiske's Hill, just this side of Lexington, a hot fight took place,
and the British began to run in disorder. At Lexington village, near where
we saw the stone cannon on the hill, the reinforcements sent from Boston
under command of Lord Percy were met-twelve hundred men, with two
cannon. But when, after a rest, the homeward march was taken again,
numbers only increased the opportunity for good shots, and the enraged
farmers hung on the skirts of the retreat and harried the red-coats, as
hounds do the game, all along the road."
"Poor fellows!" said Christine.
"What do you say poor for?" asked Jack, indignantly. "It served
them right. They had no business to be there."
But they could n't help it, Jack," said Christine. "They were ordered
to march to Concord."
"Soldiers have to obey orders, Jack," said Uncle Tom, "and those poor
red-coats found the trip uncomfortable enough without your added con-
demnation. As they lagged along under the hot April sun, fqemen sprang
out upon them at all points. The British would whirl' around and drive
away one force, only to be peppered at by another. It seemed, as one
British soldier declared, to 'rain rebels.' The tablets all along the road
between here and Charlestown record the story of that fearful retreat. It


cost King George nearly three hundred men out. of a force of eighteen
hundred, and the news, spread by swift riding from Maine to Georgia,
aroused thirteen colonies to action, and opened a seven years' fight for
How many Americans were killed? asked Bert.
About fifty," Uncle Tom replied. They knew how to fight, you see.
They were hunters and could stalk the game. There is a poem by Edward
Everett Hale that you must hunt up and read when you get home. You
will find it-in his 'Story of Massachusetts,' and it is one of the most striking
pictures of that Nineteenth of April man-hunt that I know of. It ends
something like this"-and beneath a spreading elm that cast long shad-
ows across the Lexington highway, Uncle Tom reproduced the picture that
Dr. Hale drew:
"Well, all would not die. There were men good as new-
From Rumford, from Saugus, from towns far away,-
Who filled up quick and well, for each soldier that fell,
And we drove them and drove them and drove them all day.
We knew, every one, it was war that begun,
When that morning's march was only half done.

"In the hazy twilight, at the coming of night,
I crowded three buckshot and one bullet down.
'T was my last charge of lead, and I aimed her and said,
"Good luck to you, Lobsters, in old Boston Town."

'P.',V 7o

"Good luck to you, Lobsters, in old Boston Town."

"In a barn at Milk Row, Ephraim Bates and Munroe,
And Baker and Abram and I made a bed;
We had mighty sore feet, and we 'd nothing to eat,
But we 'd driven the Red-coats; and Amos, he said:


Now generally known as the Keyes House." It is opposite the battle-ground, and the white spot near a window in the ell,
between two doors, marks a bullet-hole. Here too is the stone across which Captain Davis fell dead.

"'It 's the first time,' said he, 'that it 's happened to me
To march to the sea by this road where we 've come;
But confound this whole day but we 'd all of us say
We 'd rather have spent it this way than to home.'"

"The hunt had begun with the dawn of the sun,
And night saw the wolf driven back to his den.
And never since then, in the memory of men,
Has the Old Bay State seen such a hunting again."

"Well! it was a hunting of men, was n't it?" exclaimed Jack as the
wagonette turned and drove back to Concord.
It seems so dreadful, though," said Christine. "Think how many
families it broke up."
"War is always dreadful, my dear," Uncle Tom replied. "To-day we
see only the heroic side of the American Revolution, but for a generation
and more after Concord and Lexington, so old people have told me who
were children then, the subject was never talked of at home; it was all so
dreadful, they said."
Then, talking over the day and what it meant to America and the
world, for all its tragic and sorrowful phases, they came at last to the
little hotel where they were to spend the night in Concord.


They were well repaid for thus lengthening their stay. For what a day
Uncle Tom gave them on the morrow!
Guided by him they walked about this "town of tablets," as Marian
called it, deeply interested in all they saw. The citizens of the quaint old
town have put up memorial stones to mark almost everything of note that

On Lexington road, the line of the British retreat. Here Hawthorne lived when he wrote "Tanglewood Tales," and
Miss Alcott when she was in her early "teens," before she lived in "Orchard House."

ever occurred there, while the historic houses, the literary shrines, and the
beautiful surroundings of Concord made a lasting impression on these re-
ceptive young minds.
They visited the houses of historic interest; they saw the British bullet-
mark in the ell of the rambling old Jones house; they touched the very
stone across which brave Captain Davis fell dead; they stood within the
identical Wright Tavern, in which Pitcairn, fuming at the obstinacy" of the
"rebels," stirred his toddy with a bloody finger and vowed vengeance; they
lingered before the tall gate-posts at the entrance of the Old Manse made
famous by Hawthorne; they worshiped in clamorous admiration before the
house which had been the home of Hawthorne and, later, the scene of the


early exploits of the Little Women." They saw the house in which that
charming story had been written; they looked upon the home of Emerson,
and followed the footsteps of Thoreau; they canoed up and down the beau-
tiful Concord River; they rode to Fairyland and to Walden Pond and added,
each, a stone to the memorial pile on the spot where once had stood Thor-
eau's hermit hut; they visited the library and the antiquarian rooms, filled
with memorials of famous folks from the days of the Puritans to those of
John Brown.
And, last of all, they stood on that remarkable knoll in beautiful Sleepy
Hollow Cemetery and looked upon that little cluster of graves, almost within
touch of each other, where lie the remains of Emerson and Hawthorne
and Thoreau and the two Alcotts,-father and daughter,-as grand a
group of worthies as can be found thus brought together anywhere outside
of Westminster Abbey.
Then they rode back, along the historic highway, following the British
retreat quite to Charlestown neck, through Lexington and Arlington and
Somerville a road fairly peppered, as Jack declared, with memorial tablets
and historic houses, eloquent reminders of that ever famous Nineteenth of
April, 1775.
At Sullivan Square they dismissed their carriage and took the electrics
into Boston saturated, so Bert affirmed, with facts and sights of one of
the most famous episodes in the world's story of liberty, and of that eventful
day that gave birth to American freedom.


~ -&



I~~ -is~l




Climbing the Monument--The View from the Top- Tracing the Battle-
ground- The Redoubt- Colonel Prescott-- Warren and Putnam-
The Story of the Assault Victory or Defeat?- Webster's Oration -
The Tablet on Dorchester Heights The First American Victory.

SOW many?" panted Marian, poised on the topmost step;
S" I lost count."
"Two hundred and ninety-two, two hundred and ninety-
three, two hundred and ninety-four!" counted Bert, a good
second in the race.
"Dear me! are we at the top at last?" said Christine. "Where 's
Uncle Tom?"
"Coming, coming, my dear," a voice replied from the depths. "This
tells on flesh, and thirty-six does n't spring up two hundred and twenty-one
feet as easily as nimble fifteen."
"Are we really two hundred and twenty-one feet from the ground ?"
said Marian. My, what a view!"
They stood at last, together, within the little circular chamber, pierced
with four barred windows -the top of Bunker Hill Monument.
The day was clear and bright. Sea and shore alike stood free of haze
or mist, and far to the west, beyond the ridge of Monadnock, they traced
the filmy outline of Kearsarge, the high New Hampshire mountain, a good
ninety miles away.
Uncle Tom had put all other plans aside.
It is an ideal day for the monument," he said.
And indeed it was.
"Two hundred and twenty-one feet seems short, alongside of the Wash-
ington Monument's five hundred," said Jack. "And yet it seems as high."


"That's because there 's no elevator here," said Marian, still breathing
hard from her race up the last turn.
"There was an elevator here once, many years ago," Uncle Tom in-
formed them. But it was a crude, cramped, unsafe affair, and after it had
fallen once, and nearly killed its passengers, it was given up, and now
visitors have to trust to Shanks's mare.'"
Christine and Roger were already at the east window, drinking in the
superb ocean view. Bert was studying out the inscription on the bursted
memorial cannon hung up on the wall, while Jack was wondering how
under the sun they could have rigged an elevator to slide up and down that
narrow central cavity.
Uncle Tom called them about him and slowly made the circuit from
window to window.
No other place in all the world," so he told them, "unless it be the
Acropolis at Athens, so clearly discloses the real panorama of a battle re-
gion. It is almost as if we were taking a bird's-eye view from a balloon.
See! to the east is the sea!"
Is n't it glorious cried Marian, a great lover of salt water.
Over that stretch of blue, and here into Boston Harbor, came the British
fleet to discharge its cargo of red-coats for the subjugation of America."
Only they did n't subjugate," put in Jack.
In this narrower stretch of the Charles River, just below us, six British
men-of-war were moored with guns trained on these rebel heights. South
of us is Boston-town, without bridges then, and small indeed compared with
its bulk to-day; but it was the very hotbed of rebellion; working toward
the west we see Dorchester and Cambridge, Arlington, Somerville, and
Medford, until we get around here to the Mystic, flowing down to join the
Charles. To the North, across the Mystic, lie Maiden and Everett, Chelsea,
Revere, and Lynn. And that rocky cape-like piece running into the sea is
famous Nahant, where Longfellow and Agassiz and Sumner and other great
Bostonians made their summer home. Across that long ridge--here out
of the west window-lie Lexington and Concord. So, you see, we are
indeed at the very center of revolutionary beginnings."
Is n't it down there that Paul Revere stood waiting for the signal?"
asked Christine, pointing to the river's edge.
Yes, we can see him if we look out here through the south window,"
said Uncle Tom. See, that little clump of trees just across the river is
Copp's Hill burying-ground-the site of a British battery, and the tall spire
beside it is the old North Church where the signal lanterns were hung.
There! they are flashing out the news, and at once, galloping past us up


Main street, just at the foot of this hill, through
Charlestown and So- merville and Medford
and Arlington, Revere spurs on, spreading the
tidings of the British march. Here, through
the west window, you can see where the Charles
turns past East Cam- bridge then it was
called Lechmere's Point. There the 8oo British
under Smith and Pit- cairn gathered for their
march to Lexington.
Further up the river,
where the Roxbury
road ran across the

A hollow shaft, 30 feet square at the base and 221 feet high, built after designs by Horatio Green-
ough and Solomon Willard. The corner stone.was laid by Lafayette, June 17, x825. The
monument was dedicated June 17, 1843, Daniel Webster being the orator,

narrow neck of land, marched Lord Percy and his 1200 reinforcements.
And through this western window you "can almost trace the line of retreat
which we followed the other day, along which, from Concord to Charles-
town, raced the British rout."
"Where 's Sudbury, Uncle Tom ? Christine asked. Don't you know
that 's where the landlord lived, in the Wayside Inn ?


'And over there, no longer bright,
Though glimmering with a latent light,
Was hung the sword his grandsire bore
In the rebellious days of yore
Down there at Concord, in the fight.'"

"Sudbury is over Concord way, across those hills, through the west win-
dow," Uncle Tom replied. "The Wayside Inn is standing yet and in fine
condition; we '11 try to get over there some day and visit it. Don't you re-
member what the poet said about the landlord's grandfather as he looked on
the sword?
'Your ancestor who bore this sword
As Colonel of the Volunteers,
Mounted upon his old gray mare,
Seen here and there and everywhere,
To me a grander shape appears
Than old Sir William, or what not,
Clanking about in foreign lands,
With iron gauntlets on his hands
And on his head an iron pot.'

That 's my case exactly. I see more real heroism in these Minute-men
and Militia Volunteers of Lexington, and Concord, and Bunker Hill, and get
more real inspiration from them than from all the Battles of the Spears

-- -

Troop-ships leaving Portsmouth Harbor, England, for the "subjugation" of America.

and of the Standards and what not, in the days that Cervantes, in Don
Quixote ', laughed to death."
"Lexington, you say, was an 'affair'; Concord was a 'skirmish'; was
Bunker Hill really a battle ? asked Roger.


"Let 's go down-stairs and see," Uncle Tom replied. "We '11 fight it
over again on its own ground."
With a final look at the wonderful panorama of land and sea, caught
through the four windows of that tall gray shaft, the party clattered down
the two hundred and ninety-four stone steps and stood at last upon all that
is left of the little elevation first known as Russell's Pasture (when it was
the scene of war), afterwards as Breed's Hill and now forever famous under
its mistaken name of Bunker Hill.
Uncle Tom briefly reminded them of the causes that led to the fortifica-
tion of this height by the Americans; how the farmers of New England had
surrounded Boston-town, after Lexington and Concord had stirred them
to action, with a cordon of rude little forts and earthworks extending in
.a wide semicircle from Dorchester Heights to Chelsea; how they had
thus shut up the British in Boston,-sixteen thousand Yankee farmers hold-
ing ten thousand disciplined British troops at bay; how the Committee of
Safety sitting at Cambridge decided that a good fort on Bunker Hill would
keep the British ships from sailing up the Charles or the Mystic; how they
sent twelve hundred men to fortify it, and how, after looking over the
ground, the soldiers decided to first throw up a redoubt on the lower height,
nearer the river. He told them how the soldiers worked all night un-
noticed by the British, who, when they awoke on the morning of the seven-
teenth of June, and saw what the "rebels" had been at, proceeded to
attempt to dislodge them.
"Bunker Hill Monument," said Uncle Tom, stands just about in the
center of the little fort, or redoubt, as it is called, which inclosed in an
irregular rectangle something over seventeen thousand square feet of land."
"About how much is that, Uncle Tom? Marian asked, with a rather
hazy idea of figures.
How much land is there in your house lot at home?" asked Uncle
Marian looked at Jack.
It 's twenty-five by one hundred," he replied, answering her query.
Then the fort on Bunker Hill occupied about as much land as seven
New York City house lots," said Uncle Tom. "The ramparts were about
six feet high, with a narrow ditch at their base. See here is a stone tablet
marking the southeast corner of the redoubt; here "- and he led them
along the. asphalt walk an hundred feet or so -" is the stone that marks
the northeast corner. Then it stretched back there toward Concord street,
and at the south end over a defended entrance or sally-port. Here, to the
north, as this tablet tells you, ran an outer or protecting breastwork three


r -

-~ I

IL lis

He commanded the redoubt on Bunker Hill. The statue stands just
in front of Bunker Hill Monument.

hundred feet, until it ended in a muddy bog where no one could wade.
Across from this corner, as this tablet tells you "- and Uncle Tom led them
along the path to the northern corner-"was to run another protecting
breastwork to guard the rear. There was no time to build one, so Knowl-
ton, of Connecticut, extended a rail-fence to the river, put up another
parallel to it, and filled in between with new-mown hay to within about
six hundred feet of this point. A similar fence ran out on the opposite


t n t I


side. It took a thousand men all night
tion. At sunrise it was scarcely done.
.and prepared to assault it."
"Who commanded the Americans?"

to finish this well-planned fortifica-
But the British then discovered it

inquired Bert.

Now in the relic room of Bunker Hill Monument.

For answer, Uncle Tom led them to the southern front of the monument
where stands the bronze statue of Colonel William Prescott a strong and
spirited figure.
"That was the hero of Bunker Hill," he said, "the fearless commander
within the redoubt -related by blood to that Dr. Samuel Prescott who,
you remember, rode post-haste to Concord."
I thought Warren was the leader," said Bert.
"That was his statue inside the monument office, was n't it ?"
"Yes," Uncle Tom replied; "but Warren was only a volunteer, acting
under orders at the battle, even though he was president of the provincial
congress and a major-general."


But he was a hero," insisted Bert.
"Most assuredly," his uncle replied. "When Elbridge Gerry, at Cam-
bridge, begged him not to go into the fight, he replied quietly, 'Dulce et
decorum estpro patria mori' which means what, Bert?"
It is sweet and becoming to die for one's country," replied the student
"Yes," replied Uncle Tom; "and when he reached Bunker Hill he
asked General Putnam, who directed there, to put him where he could be
most useful. Putnam suggested this fort here on Russell's Pasture, and
Warren, although appointed a major-general that day by Congress, refused
to take the command offered him from Colonel Prescott, but said: 'I come
as a volunteer with my musket to serve under you.' A very brave, courte-
ous and lovable man was Doctor and General Joseph Warren."
Putnam was brave too, was n't he ?" asked Roger.
"As brave and impetuous as when he faced the wolf in its den," Uncle
Tom answered. "Bunker Hill the height beyond this, you know was
his strong point. He held, and rightly, that the fortification on this slope
was of no benefit unless protected by a redoubt on Bunker Hill. He began,
in fact, to throw up earthworks there, but he had not men enough nor time
enough to complete them. For, before he could fairly get to work, the
battle was joined. You know the story of the fight, of course."
"Yes; but tell it to us, Uncle Tom," said Marian.
That 's so, right here where it was really fought," Jack chimed in.
"A few words should tell it," said Uncle Tom. "The British landed over
there, where you see the Navy Yard buildings. The sun shone brightly;
the day was hot; Prescott, a magnificent figure, walked calmly among his
men, cautioning them to go slow and reserve their fire until the word came.
At the rail fence Putnam held command. He, too, encouraged his men, told
them that every shot must count, and ordered them not to fire until they
could see the whites of their enemies' eyes."
George! that was pretty close range, was n't it? said Jack.
How horrible! sighed Christine.
It had to be, my dear. War is no child's-play. It is horrible," said
Uncle Tom. "The British soldiers, marching as if on parade, came solidly
against the American entrenchments. The right wing, led by General
Howe, headed for the rail fence; the left wing, commanded by General
Pigott, advanced toward the redoubt. The Americans, standing on the
little platform that brought their guns to the level of the rampart, waited
quietly. The British fired as they marched; but they aimed too high.
The Americans covered each his man. Then, when their foemen were dan-


gerously near,
came the w\o ,rd
of command :
Fire! T h
muskets held
by farmers
and marksmen
spoke with
deadly fflecrt.
At the rail
fence Ho\ 's
red coats
ed and

r c~1





S 'I 've played it lots of times on
snow forts, boys.' 'It's great sport.'"

Ir,:pllse.l. Be-
I.r th< re-
dloIl-,t, here 'on
the hill, the British Ill un.ler the
mIi.r, ',i hIre:; their line I r kc,
s\\ dy':I, tiiura,,, aind retrcat-'-d lo nii
the hill. Again the r-d ranks r. -
I 'rm ; again te\ n.irc:h ainst rail
lence and re'.l l:'t, LOn!, again ti .e
lmet I:,v tVhat nuirt.l er:u. Ire, and ti
sta-ger dli:'wn the- s:i'!:, liere noi\
their deal.l and loiIund'le-d lie strewn
in conuLsi,:'n. The Iarnlers :Af New\
England: ha\r'r -,iro 'l liIke their I\ n
granite against the veteran troops
of England."
"Then it was a victory, Uncle
Tom," cried Jack. I always said it


was. I 've played it lots of times on snow forts, boys. It 's great sport..
You can just send the British kiting back every time. I always said it was.
a victory for us."
"Wait, wait, Jack; the end is not yet," Uncle Tom replied. It was a
victory thus far. But now Prescott's men look troubled even in the midst

"'Don't waste a kernel,' said Prescott, 'make every shot tell.'"

of their hurrahs. Their ammunition has given out. Only a few artillery
cartridges for the almost useless cannon are on hand. Prescott has them
torn open and the powder distributed, almost grain by grain, among the
musket-men. 'Don't waste a kernel,' he says; make every shot tell.' "
And they did, I '11 bet," said Jack.
They did, but to little avail," his uncle replied. Howe was angered
at his double repulse and put all his efforts into carrying the redoubt by
storm. His red-coats surged up the hill; once more came the farmers'


deadly fire, but not with the strength or volume of the earlier broadsides.
There came no second discharge. The British swarmed over the breast-
work; clubbed muskets, bare bayonets, paving-stones confronted them. It
was a bloody hand-to-hand conflict. Then, the Americans turned and re-
treated toward Bunker Hill, where Putnam, who had withdrawn his men
from the rail fence, hoped to rally them. Over there, in the middle of
Concord street, Warren fell-the American Revolution's first notable vic-
tim. The British artillery swung around in flank, opened a galling fire on
the fugitives, and the retreat, turning into a rout, surged down the hillsides
and over toward the camp at Cambridge. Had reinforcements or ammu-
nition been forthcoming, the day might have been crowned with success."
"Then it was a defeat," sighed Bert.
Really it was, because the British gained and held the hill," Uncle
Tom replied. But in moral effect, in its influence on the Americans who
now saw that they could stand their ground against British troops, and
equally in its influence on the English commanders, who never after at-
tempted to carry by storm an American earthwork, Bunker Hill was a vic-
tory, and is so held and celebrated by us. Gage lost eleven hundred out
of twenty-five hundred men, and lost besides his power and command; for
when the news of the battle reached England, the man who was so palpably
outgeneralled by a parcel of Yankee farmers' was recalled, and his com-
mand given into other hands."
How many Americans were killed, Uncle Tom, ? asked Roger.
"One hundred and forty," Uncle Tom replied. "Their names all ap-
pear on those great bronze tablets yonder in Winthrop Park, where we will
go after we leave the hill."
They went there shortly, but first they made one more circle of the his-
toric hill, following the lines of the redoubt. They stood on the spot where
the brave Warren fell, in front of what is now No. 32 Concord street.
They inspected all the pictures and relics in the little monument museum-
the statue of Warren the timber from the wreck of the Somerset, the
British man-of-war whose marines set the town of Charlestown on fire -
General Putnam's sword Major Worthen's gun and cartridge-box, and
the memorials of Daniel Webster, whose splendid orations at the begin-
ning and the completion of the monument on Bunker Hill are now a part of
the literature of America.
Then, with a last look at Prescott's martial figure guarding the base of
the tall gray shaft, they went down from the hill, and, at the entrance to
Winthrop Park, read with deepest interest the names of the officers and
men who fell in this famous Battle of Bunker Hill.


At the entrance to Winthrop Park, Charlestown. Bunker Hill Monument in the distance. These bronze tablets, erected by
the city of Boston, give brief details of the battle and lists of the killed.

As he read the line from Daniel Webster that stands at the bottom of
one of the tall tablets ("The blood of our fathers -let it not have been
shed in vain"), Jack backed away toward the soldiers' monument, and look-
ing up the vista between the twin tablets where the tall shaft topped the
green hill, he pointed at the monument, and broke out into those splendid
words of Webster that so many school-boys have learned and spoken.

The powerful speaker stands motionless before us. It is a plain shaft. It bears no inscrip-
tions, fronting to the rising sun, from which the future antiquarians shall wipe the dust. Nor does
the rising sun cause tones of music to issue from its summit. But at the rising of the sun and
in the setting of the sun, in the blaze of noonday and beneath the milder effulgence of lunar light,
it looks, it speaks, it acts to the full comprehension of every American mind and the awakening
of glowing enthusiasm in every American heart. Its silent, but awful utterance; its deep pathos,
as it brings to our contemplation the seventeenth of June, 1775, and the consequences which
have resulted to us, to our country, and to the world from the events of that day, and which we
know must rain influence on mankind to the end of time; the elevation with which it raises us
high above the ordinary feeling of life surpass all that the study of the closet or even the
inspiration of genius can produce."

Fine, fine indeed," cried Uncle Tom, appreciatively, while the others
gave the palm to Jack's oratorical powers. Now let us have the com-

r C~


pletion of that same Webster oration, Jack, and then I think we can leave
the Bunker Hill Monument duly impressed and benefited. Begin with the
last paragraph, you know."
And Jack, nothing loth,-he did dearly love to spout" on occasion,-
gave the desired peroration:

And when we and our children shall all have been consigned to the house appointed for all
living, may love of country and pride of country glow with equal fervor among those to whom
our names and blood shall have descended. And then, when honored and decrepit age shall lean
against the base of this monument, and troops of ingenuous youth shall be gathered round it, and
when the one shall speak to the other of its objects, the purposes of its construction, and the great
and glorious events with which it is connected- there shall rise from every youthful breast the
ejaculation -' Thank God! I also am an American '"

Then they left the monument and the tablets and rode into Boston.
That afternoon they boarded a City Point "electric" at Post-office Square
and swinging about past the rising walls of the great Southern Depot and
amid the railroad and shipping centers of the south side, they crossed the
Federal street bridge and whizzed through Broadway, the wide main street
of South Boston. As they rode along, Uncle Tom, who had informed his
young people that he was now about to take them to the closing scene in
the Revolutionary siege of Boston, told them that Bunker Hill was really
one of America's turning-points.
"The battle settled things in one way especially," he said. It proved
to the world that America meant war, and that there was possible no peace-
able solution of the problem which England's obstinacy had raised. Though
a defeat, it had given the colonies courage and backbone. As Webster said
of it, the fearful crisis was past. The appeal now lay to the sword; and the
only question was whether the spirit and resources of the people would hold
out till the object was accomplished. Washington, as he rode northward
from Philadelphia on his way to the old elm at Cambridge, met a messenger
carrying to Congress the news of Bunker Hill. To his inquiries the mes-
senger answered that the provincials retreated only because of lack of am-
munition. 'Did they stand the fire of the regulars?' Washington asked
anxiously. 'That they did,' said the messenger, and held their own fire in
reserve until the enemy was within eight rods.' Washington appeared re-
lieved. 'Then,' sgid he to his companions, 'the liberties of the country are
safe.' To him, the fearless stand of the New England militia meant material
for soldiers -just what he was at that time most anxious about."
Was he commander-in-chief then ? asked Roger.
"Yes, he was chosen on the fifteenth of June, 1775, just two days before


the battle of Bunker Hill," Uncle Tom replied, and at once he set out for
the camp at Cambridge. On the second of July he reached the town and
made his headquarters first in Wadsworth house, which I showed you
fronting Harvard Square on the college grounds, and shortly after in the
big square colonial house on Brattle street, now dear to all the world as

the home of Longfellow. On the next day thethird of July he took
":; -

'Did they stand the fire of the regulars?' Washington asked anxiously."

the home of Longfellow. On the next day the~third of July he took
command of the army, standing beneath the old elm in whose broken
shadow you also stood, against Radcliffe College near to Cambridge Com-
mon. All summer and winter he was striving to put his motley army of
ten thousand constantly changing men into some sort of military shape.
He drew the line of siege closer and closer about the British in Boston.
But when spring came he knew that he must do something. He prepared
to attack the British inside their lines, and, as the first movement, occupied
and fortified the high land here in South Boston, then known as Dorches-
ter Heights. Let us go and see the exact spot."
A ride of twenty-five minutes brought them to the corner of H street,
where, leaving the car, they passed down Broadway so that Uncle Tom


might show them the broad and breezily elevated building made famous
by the marvelous life-stories of Laura Bridgman and Helen Keller-the
Perkins Institution for the Blind, the first blind school" in America.
"It is almost on the slopes of Dorchester Heights, you see," Uncle
Tom explained, and is thus doubly a notable landmark. See, we turn
here from Broadway into G street. We are now assaulting another slope
quite as high and fully as historic as Bunker Hill."
Where G street swept around a circular knoll of green, Uncle Tom
crossed the street and led his young people through the open gateway.
This slope," he said, is a part of what was formerly known as Dor-
chester Heights. It is now Thomas Park, so named in memory of John
Thomas, one of the best and bravest of our early Revolutionary generals."
Never heard of him," said Jack, sprinting up the asphalt slope. Did
you, Roger ?"
And the Boston boy was forced to confess that the name was new to him.
"Is n't there something about John Thomas in Thackeray?" queried
Christine, who was just beginning to enjoy the great English humorist.

Standing near to Dorchester Heights on Broadway and G streets in South Ioston.

"Tut, tut! Christine," Uncle Tom corrected. "You are almost as bad
as Jack- "
Come; I like that! cried Jack, breaking a stride in half, by way of


I mean that Artemus Ward query of yours in Cambridge," Uncle
Tom explained. "To far too many of this generation Artemas Ward is
only, as Jack said, America's funny man, and John Thomas means Thack-
eray's English flunky. Instead, to Americans, those names should stand
for the two leading generals in the early American
army, before George Washington took command
here at Boston. To General John Thomas was due
the wonderfully rapid and effective fortifying, by
Washington's order, of this rise of land called Dor-
chester Heights. There were several heights here-
abouts then, you know, and they commanded the
beleaguered city, as you can readily see."
They did see this at once, as they stood on the
HILL. crest of the hill, beside the fence that separates the
old reservoir basin from the green park. Before
them stretched the chain of treeless islands that dot the broad, blue
harbor; beyond them lay the town, within easy cannon-range, and Bert
declared that he really could n't see what under the sun the British were
thinking of, to allow the Americans to get in ahead of them.
"Why did n't they seize and occupy this height? he asked.
"Too slow in action, I imagine," Uncle Tom replied. Howe, who
succeeded Gage as British commander in Boston, did have the idea, but
he failed to carry it out. Washington saw the wisdom of it soon after he
got the lay of the land, and a part of his plan of assault was to have this
hill complete the circle of his fortifications. So he sent General Thomas
here with twelve hundred men one March night in 1776, and under cover of
a friendly fog the earthworks were well thrown up by daylight, just on a
line with where this tablet stands. Read what it says there, Marian."
And Marian, standing before the squat, unlovely memorial stone, read:

Location of the
American Redoubts
Dorchester Heights
Which compelled the Evacuation
of Boston by the British Army
March 17, 1776

"I can just see how it did, can't you?" said Roger. "Look here!
It 's in a direct line with the State-House dome on Beacon Hill."
Howe appreciated the fact, too," Uncle Tom told them. "He in-
stantly prepared to attack the new redoubt."


Now Thomas Park, South Boston.

How? the same as he did Bunker Hill?" asked Jack.
Perhaps," Uncle Tom replied; though I doubt if that style of assault
would have been tried again. But a March storm came on and spoiled his
plans, and that night, upon due consideration, he and his officers deter-
mined to evacuate the town. Washington had outgeneraled him. General
Thomas pushed forward his work and made a strong fort here, but before it
was finished the British army, amounting to nearly nine thousand men,
accompanied by over a thousand Tory refugees, embarked with supplies and
luggage on seventy-eight vessels, and sailed away to Halifax. This was on
Sunday, the seventeenth of March, 1776. From that day Boston was free."
Hurrah for us, and good riddance to them! cried Jack. "Why don't
we put up a decent-sized monument here ? "
Probably something better than this crude stone-yard slab will some
day rise on this height," Uncle Tom replied. Indeed, certain public-
spirited folk are already agitating the matter of a suitable monument on
what they call the spot that marks the first American victory."
"Was it the first? inquired Marian.
"Why, yes, it must be so," said Bert. Don't you see we really were
defeated on Bunker Hill. These fortifications drove the British off. Is n't
that so, Uncle Tom? "


"That 's about it," his uncle replied; "and no doubt the growing wave of
Revolutionary remembrance will some day land a shaft on this sightly spot.
Of one thing you may be sure, boys and girls," Uncle Tom told them,
as they descended the hill and took the cars back to the center of town:
" in this land of tablets, as this section of the old Bay State appears to be,
the memorial will not long be lacking that shall indicate the spot where the
guiding hand of Washington first showed its masterly grasp, and added to
the protest of Lexington and the defiance of Bunker Hill the stern and
compelling measures of Dorchester Heights."

From an old drawing made by Governor Pownall.



Along the Shore Line-Historic Towns The British Plani- Ticonderoga
and Quebec--In Old New York- The Battle of Long Island--The
Great Retreat- Harlem Heights and While Plains- The Fall of
Fort Washington.

FEW days later, while on the way to New York, Uncle
Tom drew the attention of his young companions to the
fact that, along the way, were numerous towns that possessed
a stirring Revolutionary record.
Newport, just off our route," he said, "was for three
years occupied by the British, and, later, was the rendezvous for our French
allies; Stonington, through which we passed, was attacked by the British
early in the war; New London and Groton, its opposite neighbor, suffered
terribly, as that tall monument on the hill will tell you; New Haven, Fair-
field and Norwalk all showed marks of British invasions, in fire, shot, and
sword. In fact, not one of the thirteen colonies lacks its Revolutionary rec-
ord. From Maine to Georgia, from Portland to Savannah, you can study
the record and the relics of those dreadful days of war. For in every col-
ony the desire for independence followed fast upon the uprising of the
Massachusetts minute-men, and the British plan to divide the colonies by
distinct but related invasions laid the touch of war upon every section."
"How do you mean?" queried Bert. "Did they try to split them
apart ?"
That was their plan," replied his uncle. Orders went out from the
English councils to occupy, overrun, and terrorize each section separately,
cutting off the eastern from the middle and the middle from the southern
colonies. That was England's intent; if her generals in America had
been spry enough it might have succeeded."
But we had Washington," said Roger.


"Yes, and he was more than a
match for England's lazy leaders -he
and Nathanael Greene," Uncle Tom
assented. "You see, in these days of
railroads, steamboats, and bridges, one
cannot imagine this land without those
modern conveniences. But your great-
great-grandfathers had to get along
S: 8 without them. So rivers and mountain
ridges kept people separate and at
home; and in war, the possession of
river fords and mountain passes was
the key to every military situation."
That 's so," said Jack. If they
could n't wade the rivers or cross the
mountains, they could n't get any-
where or do anything."
Exactly; communication means
union, and this the British aimed to
prevent. See here"-and Uncle Tom,
with his blue pencil, hastily sketched
on his folded newspaper a rough out-
line map of the colonies.
Here to the north," he said, "is
the St. Lawrence; here, almost at
right angles to it, is the Hudson--
they bounded New England north and
west; further down, the Delaware and
its tributaries cut away up into middle
New York and its chain of lakes;
Chesapeake Bay and its feeders break
the Pennsylvania ridges; while, from
STATUE OF ETHAN ALLEN. Virginia to Georgia, the rivers seam
By Larkin G. Mead. Placed in Statuary IHall in the Capitol the land from the sea beach to the
at Washington, by the State of Vermont, in
honor of its heroic leader. hills. It was the British plan to con-
trol these rivers. The St. Lawrence
they held by the occupation of Canada-a section which never shared the
sentiment of independence. Ethan Allen's capture of Fort Ticonderoga "
In the name of the Great Jehovah and the Continental Congress!"
put in Jack.


Uncle Tom smiled.
Do you know what he is said to have said, Jack? he asked.
"Why, I have said what he is said to have said. What else is he said
to have said?" Jack demanded, in what Bert called "his reiterative protest."
Oh, Uncle Tom! Did n't Ethan Allen roll out those splendid words ? "
cried Marian.
Perhaps," her uncle answered. But old Vermonters tell us that
when the impetuous Allen, at the head of his ninety followers, roused the
surprised commander at night, he called out to that gentleman roughly:
'Here! come out of that, you old rascal, and give us the fort, quick, or
we '11 smoke you out like rats!'"
Oh, I just won't believe that," .
Marian declared. It does n't sound
half as nice."
"I should n't wonder, though,"
Jack decided, with a nod of approval.
"Those Green Mountain boys were .
rough-and-ready fellows."
They got the fort, anyhow," said
Yes, and its capture brought into
prominence a brave man who after-
ward went wrong," Uncle Tom added.
"I know," said Christine. Bene-
dict Arnold."
The traitor! cried Jack, lunging
at the supposed renegade a vindictive .
dagger-thrust with his fountain-pen.
"Oh, but was he brave?" asked
Marian. "I thought he was every-
thing bad."
"His great crime must not blind
our eyes to his great courage," Uncle --
Tom replied. "Benedict Arnold is -
one of the world's terrible examples of OLD ST. JOHN'S GATE, QUEBEC.
a man of great possibilities wrecked Near here, Montgomery fell.
by his inability to conquer himself."
But, talking of conquest," said Bert, Quebec was n't much in that
line, was it, Uncle Tom?"
No, it was a sad failure," Uncle Tom answered, "although the march




of the Americans terrified the Canadians and set all the beleaguered town to
asking, Can the Yankees get Quebec ?' As a matter of fact, Washington's
plans were excellent, but the obstacles in the way were almost insurmount-
able. Arnold's march through the Maine woods was a series of fearful
hardships; Ethan Allen, over-hasty as usual, 'got rattled,' as you boys say,
in an attempt to capture Montreal on his own hook, and, instead, was cap-
tured himself; Schuyler, an able general, was taken sick and had to give up
the lead, and only Montgomery and his thousand men safely crossed the
border and captured Montreal. Hurrying toward Quebec with but three
hundred men, he found Arnold and his remnant beneath the heights of
the city, and there a thousand bedraggled Americans attempted to storm the
strongest fortress in America garrisoned by two thousand British soldiers.
Leading a forlorn hope, Montgomery, in the teeth of a wintry Canadian
northeaster, stormed one of the barriers and fell dead. Arnold, leading
another forlorn hope against another barrier, had almost carried it when he
fell wounded. A sortie of the British streamed out of the gates, one half
of the Americans were captured, and the invasion of Canada ended in sorry
defeat before the walls of Quebec."
That was a shame! cried Jack, pounding Bert's knee emphatically.
"Perhaps not," his uncle replied. "Through failure we learn the way to
success. Out of this Canadian defeat came the caution, the patience, and
the knowledge when and how to strike, that developed Washington into a
great commander, and led the way to the final act at Yorktown."
But all this has led us away from your map, Uncle Tom," said Bert,
never forgetful of starting-points.
That 's so," said Roger; what about the rivers? "
"The British held the St. Lawrence and were sure of Canada," said
Uncle Tom, returning to his blue pencil and his outline map. Thereafter,
the American Revolution became a series of struggles for the possession of
the Hudson, the Delaware, and the rivers of the South. We are all to be in
New York for a while; suppose we sandwich a little patriotism between your
days of pleasure, and take a look at the places made famous by this struggle
for the Hudson and for the Delaware 'in the times, that tried men's souls'
here in America, when George the Third was king. What say you ? "
And Jack, beating time, led off the company in an under-the-breath"
chorus of
"So say we all of us;
So say we all."

The patriotic picnic," as the children, adopting Jack's convenient phrase,
persisted in calling their search for Revolutionary reminders, gave them


many pleasant outings in and about the metropolitan city. While Uncle
Tom went at it systematically, he was too wise a cicerone to weary his
young comrades by too much sight-seeing along one particular line. A
day here, a day there, interspersed with other occupations, gradually covered
the ground, and gave his "picnickers" an excellent idea of the Revolutionary
operations in and around New York.
Taking an early Sunday-morning stroll, long before church hours, about
that section of lower Broadway so busily crowded at all other times in the
week, he brought the boys and girls to what he called the initial letter in
New York's Revolutionary chapter. It was the tall building of red brick
known as Number One, Broadway.
Uncle Tom pointed out the bronze tablet set in the front wall by the
Society of the Sons of the Revolution. At once, as was their custom, the
young people read the inscription aloud, in moderated chorus:

The _________ __ oHere stood Kennedy House,
Once Headquarters of
Generals Washington and Lee.
Ma On the Bowling Green
Opposite, the Leaden Statue
of King George was
destroyed by the people
July 9, 1776, and later
made into bullets for the
American Army.

"Well, that does give us a
good starter, and that 's a fact,"
said Jack.
I did n't suppose you had
any places marked like that
in New York," said Roger.
SThat 's fine."
"Oh, you must n't think
Boston does it all, Roger,"
i Marian retorted. "We know
NUMBER ONE, BROADWAY, IN 1776. what to do, too."
The old Kennedy House (Washington's Headquarters) and the Watts W ish I 'd been there
Mansion. Bowling Green opposite.
Would n't I have held the
ropes, though, that pulled the statue over!" cried Jack. "Made into
bullets, eh? Well, that was giving old Georgy a Holland for a Gulliver,
was n't it ?"


"A what?" came the puzzled query, while even Uncle Tom seemed
at sea.
And Marian said, "There! I know that 's just another of Jack Dun-
lap's horrible misquotations. Where did you get it from? "


Out of my extensive reading, ma'am," replied her brother. Don't
think that you monopolize all the education of the family, my dear."
Then Uncle Tom saw a light. He laughed aloud.
"Poor Jack!" he said. He does hit the bull's-eye sometimes, though
more by luck than skill, I fear. I recognize his quotation, Marian. It 's a
historic tit for tat; he means a Roland for an Oliver-those two famous
paladins of old Charlemagne, you know. And it does fit this case; for, in
melting George the Third into bullets for their own use, his American
rebels returned him, with thanks; really a tit for tat, you see."
"Thanks, Uncle Tom," said Jack, bowing deeply. "You appreciate
me. Praise from "
"There, there! pray don't try another on us, Jack," implored his uncle.
" It is really too brain-fatiguing to unravel them."
Standing in that famous spot about which centered so many of the dra-
matic happenings of old New York, they pictured to themselves that excit-
ing day in Bowling Green, and the others that so quickly followed. In
fancy they saw again the flying post-rider speeding down Broadway with
his tidings of Lexington fight; they saw the volunteer companies parading
the streets, drilling for liberty; they watched the Sons of Liberty drive off


II Il~



the carts which bore the arms and ammunition of the British reinforcements
ordered to Boston, and Uncle Tom showed them where, at the corner of
Broadway and John Street, the "confiscated" arms were stored.
In Trinity churchyard they stood before the tall brown shaft that rises
"to the memory of those great and good men who died while imprisoned in
this city for their devotion to the cause of American Independence"; they
saw the one remaining building in City Hall Park which was one of
those dreadful British prisons; they stood before the tomb of the hero of
Quebec, the brave Montgomery, set in the wall of old St. Paul's; they heard
again, before his touching statue in the shadow of the granite Post-office,
the moving story of the bravery and death of glorious Nathan Hale: they
looked from the broad Battery out upon the splendid harbor, while Uncle
Tom traced for them on the hazy horizon, off toward Sandy Hook, the track
of the king's fleet which brought, in the summer days of 1776, a great Brit-
ish army, with its hated Hessian contingent, for the subjugation of New
York and the control of the valley of the Hudson.
"And that brings us," said he, "to our next notable conflict the battle
of Long Island. To-morrow or the next day we will cross the bridge and
study that fight upon its own historic ground."
On the selected day, crossing the great web-like span of the Brooklyn
Bridge, the party of investigators descended to the street on the Brooklyn
side, and were soon speeding in the Flatbush trolley to the main battle-
ground in Prospect Park.




As they went, Uncle Tom endeavored to give them a brief outline of the
battle they were to study.
"The battle of Long Island," he told them, was something in the na-
ture of what the Western cattlemen would call a round-up. You know what
that is, boys."
Getting around the cattle and gradually driving them into a pen or
corral, is n't it? queried Bert.
Yes; and in this case," said Uncle Tom, "the pen was the Americans'
own line of fortifications, poorly constructed and barely half made and half
manned, stretching almost from the Narrows to Hell Gate. General Howe,
who had succeeded Gage at Boston "
"And been driven out himself," put in Roger.
Yes," commented Uncle Tom, "-had learned a lesson from his Ameri-
can foemen, and, when he came sailing in through the Narrows to the in-
vestment of New York, had a plan of action well thought out. He would
land his troops on Long Island, surround the rebels in their lines, force them
back by weight of numbers and discipline to Brooklyn Heights, and there
capture them. From Brooklyn Heights he could command or bombard
New York, precisely as the Americans did Boston from Dorchester Heights,
and thus end the war."
Only he did n't," said Jack.
His game was well played," Uncle Tom continued, disregarding Jack's
parenthesis. "Twenty thousand British and Hessian troops were landed,


and marched by devious ways through the four, passes which cut the lines
of hills that stretched across the island. Many of those hills to-day are
leveled, but you can see traces of what they then were, in Prospect Park,
in Greenwood Cemetery, and
on toward Jamaica. To these
twenty thousand Washington
could oppose scarcely ten
thousand men, half of them
militiamen and fresh volun-
teers. But some of the ten
thousand were fighters,- the
Marylanders especially,- and
Sto-day they are remembered as
the heroes of the fight."
S -- "What did they do?" asked

were bloody and obstinate. General Howe's plan worked well. By three
I '11 show you, my dear,
At the entrance of Prospect Park, Brooklyn. This arch, erected as a On the very spot," replied
memorial to the Soldiers and Sailors of the CivilWar, overlooks Uncle Tom. The battle was
almost the entire range of the Battle of Long Island.
really more a series of skir-
mishes or small engagements than a single conflict, but some of these
were bloody and obstinate. General Howe's plan worked well. By three

In Battle Pass, showing the line of defense.

roads his three detachments advanced upon the Americans, while he, with
ten thousand troops, marching silently in the dead of night, and guided by


a Tory farmer, got into the rear of the Americans on the Jamaica road.
On the morning of the twenty-seventh of August, 1776, the Americans
found themselves surrounded and in the heat of a desperate battle, the
line of which stretched over ten miles or more of country. There could
be but one result. Washington, fearing for New York as well as for
the Brooklyn defenses, hurried over the river .with reinforcements.
Greene, who had studied and alone knew the ground, was too sick to
move. No other general officer was capable of filling his place. Wash-
ington saw at once that Howe had the advantage of position, discipline, and

From the Terrace and Arbor, Prospect Park. This gives a bird's-eye view of the main battle-ground.

numbers; and as Je watched the fight, helpless to check or concentrate it,
he wrung his hands in anguish and cried, 'Good God! what brave fellows
I must lose this day "
"Why did n't he chip right in and lead them on?" asked Jack.
Washington never was backward about rushing in and leading on
when it would do any good, I assure you. But this was not a case where
individual leadership could avail anything," Uncle Tom replied, as, leaving
the cars by the splendid memorial arch, they entered the Park through the
main gate, and hailing a Park carriage, rode to Sullivan Heights.
Here," said Uncle Tom, as they stood among the cages of the "Zoo,"
"General Sullivan, who had command outside of the fortifications, was sta-
tioned; but down below us is the slope on which the fiercest fight occurred."
They descended the hill, crossed the Vale of Cashmere, and came out


upon a swelling lawn where, in the face of a broken, tree-shaded knoll,
Uncle Tom halted them before a bronze tablet.
Line of defense, August 27, 1776, Battle of Long Island, 175 feet south.
Site of Valley Grove house, 150 feet north," read Bert and the others.
"This is Battle Pass," explained Uncle
Tom, "where the Hessians, twice repulsed,
finally swarmed upon Sullivan's men, and
drove or captured them, forced the redoubt,
and combining with the rest of the British
army, finally sent the defeated Americans
Flying for safety within the weak security of
S their Brooklyn defenses. So the round-up,
a you see, was successful, although some of
the 'cattle' were obstinate."
.. .'-,' I "But what about the Maryland men?"
asked Marian.
SFor answer, Uncle Tom led them back
across the lawn to where, above a broad drive-
Sway, upon a sightly slope, rose a graceful
shaft of granite and marble, topped with a
polished globe.
Read the inscription, Marian," he said,
THE MONUMENT TO THE "while Jack gets his kodak ready. Is n't
MARYLAND MEN. it a fine location ? The monument was
Between Sullivan Heights and Battle Pass in placed here in 1895 through the efforts of
Prospect Park.
the Maryland Society of the Sons of the
American Revolution, and is a beautiful shaft, well worthy a shot."
And Marian read:
In Honor of
Maryland's Four Hundred
Who on this Battle-field,
August 27, 1776,
Saved the American Army."

How did they save it?" queried Christine, as Jack shot his kodak.
By facing about here, and, against terrible odds, holding off the swarm-
ing enemy until the bulk of the Americans could withdraw. Then," said
Uncle Tom, surrounded, flanked, decimated, but heroic to the last, they
surrendered, sacrificing themselves for their comrades and their cause."
Good for them! cried Jack, who had taken what he considered a most
satisfactory picture. Now let 's get the battle-field from the arbor."


He did so, and added other pictures to his roll of films. For Uncle Tom
and his companions "did" Revolutionary Brooklyn thoroughly, traversing
the ground from the Cortelyou house, where the Marylanders almost
"bagged" Cornwallis, to the
points now swallowed up
by the great and growing
city, where hot and deadly
fights occurred.
At last they stood beside
the tall flag-staff on what,
in 1776, was Fort Putnam, ,.
and now is called Fort
Greene. At their feet -- .
stretched away Greater THE .PRISON-SHIP "JERSEY."
New York, the cities of
Brooklyn and New York so merged into a tall and broken sky-line that
the dividing river was obliterated and the great bridge seemed suspended
above the crowding roofs. Under their feet, on the lowest terrace of the
high redoubt, was the "tomb of the martyrs "-the vault in which are laid
the bones of those brave but unfortunate patriots who died in the dreadful
prison-ship Jersey, then moored near by in the Wallabout. This and the
story of the battle seemed to tell of disaster, and Bert said soberly, "And it
was a defeat, Uncle Tom? "

View from the Tomb of the Martyrs, Fort Greene Park, Brooklyn.

Certainly a defeat, my boy," Uncle Tom answered; "but the battle of
Long Island simply had to be fought. The defense of New York from


Washington directing the passage of the American Army across the East River, at night. The location is near the Brooklyn
pier of the great bridge.
Brooklyn was certain to be a failure if once a strong and disciplined force
were concentrated on Long Island. Had General Howe followed up his
success, the army of Washington would practically have been wiped out.
But Howe was dilatory, as usual; and Washington, in a retreat that is one
of his greatest achievements, carried the American army across to New
York, and compelled his adversary to fight yet other battles before New
York was wrested from 'the rebel grip,' as they called it."
"A retreat an achievement? cried Roger.
"Assuredly," said Uncle Tom. Two days after the battle of Long
Island, Washington skilfully laid his plans, and while the British were pre-
paring to gobble up the whole American army, in the teeth of a drenching


storm and under cover of a friendly fog, in boats manned by Glover and
his hardy Marblehead fishermen-soldiers, the American army silently stole
away, with all their arms, guns, and military stores-"
"And General Howe was left!" cried Jack, his spirit recovering from
the Long Island defeat. "Well,
he who fights and runs away
May live to fight another day,

I suppose, and G. W. did certainly know how to do that."
He did, certainly," said Uncle Tom; and military critics regard his
masterly retreat from Long Island as sufficient to rank him among the great
captains of the world."
The day in Brooklyn thus proved most successful, and Uncle Tom, fol-
lowing it up soon after with a visit to the field of operations on Manhattan
Island, showed his young folks what he called the sequel to Long Island."
He explained to them that Washington, expecting that Howe would
bombard New York from Brooklyn Heights, advised the destruction of the
city, but was overruled by Congress.
"At last, however," he said, "the British crossed the East River and
landed at Thirty-fourth street. Here the Americans posted to oppose
them became panic-stricken. They scattered like sheep, while Washington,
distracted by their lack of courage, stormed at them like a Trojan, and
would have sacrificed his life leading a forlorn hope in assault, had he not
been urged away."
"Then G. W. could get mad, eh?" said Jack. I thought nothing ever
ruffled him."
Nothing ever did, except cowardice," said Uncle Tom. He could
forgive even stupidity, but he had no patience with a coward."
I know I should have been one," Marian declared.
Oh, well, you 're a girl," said Jack apologetically. "That does n't
Does n't it, though, Master Jack ?" cried Uncle Tom. "It counts very
much sometimes, as history will tell you. And I 'm pretty sure that if the
test ever should come, my girls here "-and he passed an arm lovingly
about his "gleams of sunshine," as he called Marian and Christine-"would
prove as brave as did plucky Mistress Robert Murray, who at her comfort-
able house on Murray Hill (that 's just about at Park Avenue and Thirty-
seventh street, you know) detained the whole British advance by her
cleverness, and gave Washington time to escape."
"How?" asked Christine.

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