Citation
A Little daughter of liberty

Material Information

Title:
A Little daughter of liberty
Series Title:
Cosy. corner. series
Creator:
Robinson, Edith, b. 1858 ( Author, Primary )
Sacker, Amy M., 1872-1965 ( Illustrator )
Colonial Press (Boston, Mass.) ( Printer )
C.H. Simonds & Co ( Printer )
Place of Publication:
Boston
Publisher:
L.C. Page and Company
Manufacturer:
Colonial Press ; Electrotyped and printed by C.H. Simonds & Co.
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
[2], 131, [10] p. : ill. ; 19 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Youth -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Girls -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Puritans -- History -- Juvenile fiction -- United States ( lcsh )
Courage -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Patriotism -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Leadership -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Imagination -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Perseverance (Ethics) -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Friendship -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Loyalty -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
War -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Prisoners -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Soldiers -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Liberty -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Marriage -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
History -- Juvenile fiction -- United States -- Revolution, 1775-1783 ( lcsh )
Publishers' catalogues -- 1899 ( rbgenr )
Juvenile literature -- 1899 ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1899
Genre:
Publishers' catalogues ( rbgenr )
Children's literature ( fast )
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
Title page engraved.
General Note:
Pictorial front cover and spine.
General Note:
Publisher's catalogue precedes and follows text.
Statement of Responsibility:
by Edith Robinson ; illustrated by Amy M. Sacker.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026936852 ( ALEPH )
ALH7184 ( NOTIS )
07362920 ( OCLC )

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Full Text


| _EDITH ROBINS ON = .

| 2 CORNER: SERIES 8



The Baldwin Library

|RmB wen











A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY







Works of

Edith Robinson

Â¥
A Little Puritan’s First Christmas
A Loyal Little Maid
A Little Puritan Rebel
A Little Daughter of Liberty
CF
L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY

(Incorporated)

232 Summer St., Boston, Mass.











A CEE DAUGHTER OF
LS BREE

BY

EDITH ROBINSON

AUTHOR OF “A LOYAL LITTLE MAID,” “A LITTLE
PURITAN REBEL,” ETC.

Lllustrated by
AMY M. SACKER



BOSTON

L. Cc. PAGE AND COMPANY
(INCORPORATED)

1899



Copyright, 1899
By L. C. PaGE AND COMPANY
(INCORPORATED)

Colonial IBress
Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
Boston, Mass., U.S. A.





" CHAPTER PAGE

I. A RENEWED Vow . : , ; II
II. St. BoroLtey , , Sarat : 28
III. THe Liperty TREE . x : Ps 35
IV. THE INCORRUPTIBLE THIRTY : 47
V. THE Bounp Boy . 3 3 . . 64.
VI. THE Broap ARROW . : : 5 83
VII. THe REBECCA AND POLLY . 4 , 98

VIII. THe BREAKFAST AT THE HANCOCK
House : : : A 5 . 112



00g PB 06,

ILIVSTRATIONS'



VS 2 BOO po
PAGE
NANNY Sere : : ; : Frontispiece
“ NANNY MOUNTED THE Low, BROAD WINDOW-

SUL veces : : : : : : 33
NANNY AND HANNAH ; ; : : ai 4)
Nanny AND Mrs. BRADSTREET ; ; eeaSO
“ NANNY REACHED HER Own Door” . pees
NANNY AND ANTHONY 5 : . F aod
NANNY AND THE LANDLADY . 5 ; . 88
“SHE EXTENDED BoTH HER Hanps” . . 100

“NANNY TURNED HrER HEAD TO SURVEY
CRITICALLY THE LUSTROUS BREADTHS OF
WHITE BROCADE” : f . 13

“SHE STOOD FOR A MomMENT MEASURING THE
DISTANCE TO THE FARTHER END OF THE
Lone Room” ; . : . 5 eeel2y7.



PREFACE.

THREE rides are memorable in the early his-
tory of the Revolution. One is the well-known
ride of Paul Revere, who, on the night of April
18, 1775, warned the country about Boston of
the intended British raid on the morrow.

Less celebrated in verse and story, but
equally worthy of commemoration, was the
ride of Czesar Rodney, who, on July second of
the same year, rode from Dover, Delaware, to
Philadelphia to carry Delaware’s vote in favour
of the Declaration of Independence, covering
the distance of eighty miles in thirty hours.

Early in November, 1775, a young English
serving boy rode from the headquarters of the
provincial army at Cambridge to Kennebunk,
Maine, in less than thirty-six hours. Untold
in verse or story, its record preserved only in
family papers, or as a dim tradition of the
Maine coast, the ride of Anthony Severn was
no less heroic in its action and memorable in
its consequences.



EEE DAU CH EERCOR LIBERA Y:



CHAPTER I.
A RENEWED Vow.

«THE streets are crowded! I assure you I
had some difficulty in making my way thither.
All one hears on every side is talk of the proc-
lamation of his lordship, the new commander-
in-chief.”

“°Tis indeed true that General Howe has
decided to winter in Boston?”

« Wait but an instant till I can draw breath,
and I will read the proclamation to you. I se-
cured one of the hand-bills that are being dis-
tributed without.”

Nanny Bradstreet threw aside her cape and
hood. Her frock, like that of her friend,

Hannah Soley, was of linsey-woolsey, spun by
II



12 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

their own hands. That arch-rebel, Sam Adams,
might utter his seditious sentiments in town
meeting, and John Hancock boldly set his sig-
nature to that treasonable document, the Decla-
ration of Independence, in the Continental
Congress; but neither in Bostcn nor Phila-
delphia were to be found more ardent rebels
than in the sewing-circles of the Puritan town,
even those composed of young girls. In those
miniature camps, resolutions were solemnly
passed to endure and sacrifice everything rather
than yield to the tyranny of the British minis-
try. Ardent lovers of tea drank without gri-
mace the concoction of raspberry leaves that took
the place of the prime Bohea to which they had
been accustomed ; silken gowns were laid aside
without a murmur, for it was arch-treason to
purchase goods from England, and even the
precious pewter tankards and porringers were
cast unhesitatingly into the melting-pot to sup-
ply the empty bullet-pouches of the provincial
army.

“ Listen |”

There was no need of the command, for
Hannah was waiting, in much impatience, to
learn the contents of the hand-bill Nanny



imi ull are



“NANNY MOUNTED THE LOW, BROAD WINDOW-
SIE 13







A RENEWED VOW. 15

mounted the low, broad window-sill, and, with
an air of much consequence, proceeded to read :

«« «Whereas the present and approaching dis-.
tresses of many of the inhabitants in the town
of Boston, from the scarcity and high prices of
provisions, fuel, and the other necessary articles
of life, can only be avoided by permitting them
to go where they may hope to procure easier
subsistence ; inhabitants who wish to leave the
town are requested to give their names to the
town-major before twelve o’clock on the ninth
instant.’ There, what think you of that?” de-
manded Nanny. “’Tis plain, is’t not, that Lord
Howe does not mean to evacuate the town till
forced to do so? Do you think your honoured
father will be one of those to leave?”

“I fear such will be the case,” returned
Hannah, sadly. ‘My mother, as you know,
is in delicate health, and without suitable food
or fire-wood we could not, with safety to her,
tarry here through the winter. Will your hon-
oured uncle remain?”

“That will he, —though twenty sieges take
place!” answered Nanny, stoutly. “He deems
it his duty to stay that he may protect his own
property and that of his friends. ’Tis said, in-



16 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

deed, without scruple, by the British, that those
who quit the town forfeit all the effects they
leave behind.”

« And do you, too, remain?”

«Where else should I be at such a time, but
in Boston?” returned Nanny, with dignity.
“Tis true that I have only lived here since I
was a child ; nevertheless, Boston and no other
spot is my home. Was it not my own great-
grandfather — ”

“Have you heard aught lately of your hon-
oured father?” interrupted her friend, with an
interest that, though genuine, was expressed at
that moment with particular earnestness. At-
tached though her friends were to her, and a
leader amongst them though she undoubtedly
was, it was sometimes hinted by her mates that
Nanny Bradstreet displayed an undue tendency
to exalt herself because of her ancestor, Simon
Bradstreet, truly a man of notable character and
deeds, and of his wife, Anne Bradstreet, who
was a world-famed poet.

“Naught has been heard of him since the
brig Chuzan, jointly owned by my father and
my uncle, was fitted out as a privateer under
the recent orders of his Excellency, General



A, RENEWED VOW. 17

Washington. My uncle awaits daily news
from the Chuzan, thinking it probable that
the brig is hovering off the New England
coast in order to intercept any store-ships
that may be on their way to the army in
Boston. My uncle knows well that Captain
Simon Bradstreet is not one to be making a
pleasure cruise at such a time!” added the girl,
proudly. ‘“’Twas another Simon Bradstreet,
my great-grandfather, who helped to settle
these shores, when Boston was a wilderness
of scrubby trees and huckleberry-bushes, and
the wolves howled to the very edge of the
peninsula. Another Anne Bradstreet was it,
too, who, one hundred and fifty years ago,
walked these very streets, —then nothing but
cart tracks, — and counted as nothing the loss
of her fair English home, that she might aid
to plant God’s church in the wilderness. She
wrote, too, most beautiful poetry, that was ad-
mired by the great Master Cotton himself.
Whenever I have been frightened by the noise
of cannon, or have dreamt of that terrible day
last June, after the battle of Bunker Hill, and
have, perhaps, longed for my quiet home in the
little seaport town, I have said to myself, « Not



18 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

so would the Anne Bradstreet whose name I
bear have done,’ and I resolved to stay here,
come what might, thinking that perhaps if
there were something a young girl might do
for Boston, I might be the chosen vessel,
because of the name I bear!”

Both girls were silent as their thoughts
went back over the months since the people
of Boston, with set purpose, had claimed for
their town its ancient privileges, counting ease
and wealth, nay, life itself, nothing, so long as
were denied to them the rights enjoyed by
their ancestors. The spirit of liberty, that
had accompanied Winthrop and Dudley, Brad-
street and Cotton, and had been guarded and
fostered by each succeeding generation, still
flowed in their veins. “Crush Boston, and
you crush the insurrection,” said the British
wiseacres, and to that end the efforts of the
ministry had been chiefly directed. It was not
yet a war against the Colonies. It was a war
against Boston.

Last year the Boston Port Bill had gone into
operation amid the tolling of bells, the exhibi-
tion of mourning emblems, and the observance
of fasting and prayer. Nowa stranger to the



A RENEWED VOW. 19

proceedings of the British ministry, landing
on Long Wharf, might have fancied himself
stranded in that fabled city whose inhabitants
lay under the spell of some evil enchantment.
Its warehouses deserted, its streets grass-grown,
its marts closed, many of its finest houses bear-
ing the marks of pillage, there was little, in-
deed, in the present aspect of Boston to recall
the days when the three-hilled town was the
pride of New England and the commercial
centre of the Colonies. A hostile fleet sur-
rounded it without, a formidable military force
was assembled within. ‘Tents covered its fields,
cannon were planted on its eminences, and red-
coated troops daily paraded in its streets. Even
the privacy of those of the inhabitants who re-
mained was not respected, and British officers
were quartered in every available house, leaving
only attics and corners to the rightful owners.
Thus far, the measures adopted to crush
what was still, in British parlance, the ‘ insur-
rection” had not met with unalloyed success.
The “Boston saints,” as they were sneeringly
dubbed by the London journals and pamphlets,
had shown that they could fight as well as
pray; nor had the skirmish at Concord and



20 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

Lexington, and the battle of Bunker Hill,
altogether borne out the British prediction,
«’Whenever it comes to blows, he that can
run the fastest will think himself best off.”
The despised Yankees were displaying an ob-
duracy, too, in the face of a general offer of
pardon — with two notable exceptions — on the
part of his gracious Majesty, to be accounted
for only on the theory of the excited pam-
phleteer, who stated that “the demons of folly,
falsehood, madness, and rebellion, along with
their chief, the angel of darkness, had entered
into them.”

The stirring events of the spring and early
summer had culminated, last July, in a formal
Declaration of Independence, and the subse-
quent arrival of Mr. George Washington, of
Virginia, — the British refused to recognise his
military title, —to take command of the Co-
lonial forces assembled at Cambridge.

Dissatisfaction with the course of events
manifested itself in the British Cabinet. It
was thought that the commander-in-chief, Gen-
eral Gage, owing to family connections, was
too lenient to the people of Boston. It was
currently said that “‘Gage’s secrets had wings,”



A RENEWED VOW. 21

and some even hinted that it was none other
than the commander-in-chief’s lady who fur-
nished the wings. So Lord Howe was de-
spatched to take the “mild general’s’’ place.
A man of sterner mould and of more ability,
withal, the most decisive and uncompromising
-measures might now be looked for. There
had been a rumour that, with the change of
commanders, Boston would be evacuated for
more active operations elsewhere, but the re-
port was plainly contradicted by the present
proclamation.

“You and I and Bathsheba Church are the
only ‘Daughters of Liberty’ left in Boston!”
resumed Nanny, presently. “There were one
hundred and fifty of us in the beginning. Do
you remember how we were only a fortnight
behind our mothers in entering into an agree-
ment to drink no tea till the obnoxious meas-
ures were repealed. ‘Twas I, in this very
room, who urged our union. Some of our
members left Boston at the beginning of the
siege, or when their fathers and brothers joined
the army. Others found they had been over-
hasty in vowing allegiance to our cause, and
were punished by their parents for their ill



22 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

considered patriotism. Martyrs they might
have been,” sighed Nanny, “but they turned
their backs on the glorious opportunity, to-
their everlasting loss and Boston’s shame!
Soon Bathsheba Church and I will be the
only Daughters of Liberty remaining in the
town!”

“ Better say, you alone!” answered Hannah,
significantly.

«What mean you —surely Bathsheba is not
departing ?’’ queried Nanny, surprised.

“She has departed from the ranks of the
Daughters of Liberty,’ answered Hannah,
solemnly. “Like him of whom the Apostle
Paul spake, ‘Demas hath forsaken me, having
loved the present world,’ Bathsheba has turned
her back upon her vow, and is making friends
with the Mammon of unrighteousness.”

“What has she done?” cried Nanny, in
alarm. “How could the daughter of Doctor
Church do aught that could bring pain or
shame upon such a father?”

“She is going to Lord Percy’s ball,” re-
sponded Hannah.

« Are you sure, Hannah, of such a monstrous
thing?” queried Nanny, earnestly. «“Bath-



A RENEWED VOW. 23

sheba cannot have entered the ranks of the
enemy.”

«“T have but just come from Doctor Church’s
house,” answered her friend. «Bathsheba
showed me the dress she is to wear to-morrow
night. It is a citron-coloured silk, watered like
a tabby; her slippers, of the same stuff, have
very sharp toes, and the heels are of wood and
fully two inches high. She is quite in the
mode.”

“My father bade my aunt see that my ward-
robe was properly furnished with everything
necessary for a young lady when I came to
Boston,” said Nanny, thoughtfully. “I had
twelve silk gowns. Aunt Bradstreet had but
lately ordered another from my father’s London
agent, which I have never worn. It cost an
amazing sum of money, — not less, I assure you,
than a hundred pounds. It has a yellow coat,
a black bib and apron, and is richly adorned
with paste and garnet and marquesett pins. I
should not cut a sorry figure even before the
ladies of the British officers.”

“ Bathsheba’s hair is to be dressed in a lofty
roll,” Hannah went on. ‘There is great strife
amongst the ladies as to whom shall have the



24 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

hairdresser first; his services, indeed, being so
much in demand that Bathsheba was glad to
engage him for eight o’clock in the morning.”
“Nothing renders a young person more
amiable than virtue and modesty, as I have



heard it preached, without the aid of falsé
hair,” said Nanny, sternly. ‘How that roll
will make Bathsheba’s head ache and itch!”

“She was even so bold as to hint that she
might walk a minuet with Lord Percy,” added
Hannah.



A RENEWED VOW. 25

“T can dance as well as Bathsheba, being
counted, as you know, one of Mr. Turner’s best
scholars,’ returned Nanny. “’Tis said that.
Lord Percy’s manners are most courtly ; he is,
sure, a fine, handsome young man, with his blue
eyes and lordly bearing. What more heard you
of the ball, Hannah? Not that I am concerned
in the matter, but ’tis well to know the extent
of Bathsheba’s fall from grace.”

« Bathsheba hath a tongue that runs freely,
and though it might be treasonable to listen
to her tale of the gay doings to-morrow eve, I
could not choose but hear,” answered Hannah,
apologetically. With a vague feeling of having
been summoned before a court martial, she
continued, ‘«‘The ball is to take place in the
great hall that Mr. Hancock had recently added
to his mansion; a fine supper will be given,
notwithstanding the high price and scarcity of
provisions, and the grounds are to be hung with
lanterns. The whole town is agog, for the like
of the entertainment has never before been
seen here. The earl’s father, as you know,
is esteemed the richest man in England. Being
of a disposition that would not show lack of
courtesy to a lady, Lord Percy has sent invita-



26 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

tions, not only to the wives and daughters of
the British officers and of the Tories, but to
the patriot families as well. My mother cast
ours into the fire.”

«So must my aunt have done,” observed
Nanny, reflectively. “Not that I should have
gone, under any circumstances, nor would you,
Hannah, I trust.”

“No, oh, no,” answered her friend, hastily.

“T recall, now, some talk between Captain
Price and Captain Robinson, who, as you know,
are quartered at our house, concerning to-
morrow night; but we have paid little heed
to the methods by which the British officers
have sought to relieve the tedium of the siege.
Hannah,” went on Nanny with impressive dig-
nity, “ you and I must take immediate action in
this matter.”

Intense interest in the doings of the Con-
tinental Congress had given Nanny some
familiarity with parliamentary phrase, if not of
actual usage, and confidence in her own powers
bestowed glib utterance. “I move that from
this moment Bathsheba Church be no longer
considered a Daughter of Liberty. Now you
must say, ‘Second the motion.’ ”



A RENEWED VOW. 27

Her friend obediently repeated the words.

“Tt is moved and seconded that Bathsheba
Church is no longer a Daughter of Liberty.
Those who favour the motion? Those opposed ?
The ayes have it, and the motion is carried.
Now I think we’d better say our vow over
again, and make it a little different, because,”
Nanny shook her head gravely, “I feel that
soon it may mean much more to us than merely
not drinking tea, and if I am to be left all alone
in Boston, a great deal may depend upon me.”

She placed her hand on the family Bible
upon the centre-table, and repeated solemnly,
Hannah saying the words after her:

««We, the daughters of those patriots who
have appeared for the public interest, do now
engage with pleasure’ — that’s as far as we can
go in what we said before — ‘in upholding the
liberties of Boston.’ Now what did Mr. Han-
cock and Mr. Adams say last Fourth of July ?
‘For the support of this Declaration, with a
firm reliance on the protection of Divine Prov-
idence, we mutually pledge to each other our
lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honour.’ ”’



CHAPTER II.
ST. BOTOLPH.

Since she had been sent to Boston — three
years ago—to be “finished,” like many other
daughters of the best New England families,
Nanny considered that she had put away child-
ish things; nevertheless, certain influences of
her life in her quiet home on the coast of
Eastern Massachusetts’ remained with her,
and unconsciously influenced her later years.

Captain Bradstreet’s family represented the
quality of Kennebunk, in the days when the
distinction between the gentry and common
people was almost as sharply drawn as in the
mother country, and the little girl— his only
child — grew up without playmates of her own
age or tastes. But little Anne —or Nanny, as
she was generally called —was never lonely.

t Now Maine.
28



ST. BOTOLPH. 29

Her solitary life only stimulated her imagina-
tion, and fostered an inner world of imagery, in
which she was more at home than amid her
visible surroundings. The sea was always a
companion, and, looking into the distance, her
childish fancy followed her father’s vessel to
the far-off lands of which he told such wonder-
ful tales, — tales made real by the lustrous silks,
curious mattings, and rich foreign sweetmeats
that the brig Chwzan brought home to the
mansion at Kennebunk. There was no one in
all the world so dear and brave as her father,
and the time between his departure and home-
coming was counted, day by day, by the mother
and child, realised at last by the brief happiness
of those days at home, after the Chuzan had
unloaded its rich cargo on Long Wharf, and
the warehouses of Bradstreet Brothers were
filled to overflowing with the merchandise of
the East.

But nothing in all the wide world so stirred
Nanny’s imagination and appealed to her sensi-
bilities as the thought of Boston. There that
other Anne Bradstreet had lived, one hundred
and fifty years ago! The little girl’s chiefest
treasure was a quaint book that bore the in-



30 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

scription, “ Printed at London for Stephen
Bowtell, at the signe of the Bible in Popes
Head Alley, 1650.” Its title-page gave the
rich promise :

“The Tenth Muse Lately sprung up in
America, or Several Poems compiled with great
variety of Wit and Learning, full of Delight.”

Nanny was better supplied with books than
many children of her age, her good aunt in
Boston having sent to her an excellent collec-
tion of “Little Books for the Instruction and
Amusement of all good Boys and Girls.” But
after a brief glance at the titles of these vol-
umes, Nanny laid them all aside, and continued
to pore over Anne Bradstreet’s poetry. Not
that she understood it; much of it, indeed,
would have been incomprehensible to an older
head; but in the long words and stately meas-
ares, She found the delight known only to the
fantasies of childhood.

She liked to think of Anne Bradstreet, too,
in her fair English home, where the bells of
St. Botolph’s church were borne to her across
the Lincolnshire fens. Surely she, being of
such gentle, reverential mould, must have
carried in her heart worship of the good Saxon



ST. BOTOLPH. 31

saint — old Boston’s patron saint —to the new
Boston that she grew to love for the sake of
husband and children, and because that God’s
voice had called her thither.

Where Cape Porpoise extends its arm into
the sea, pointing to the beautiful islands that
lie about the entrance of Kennebunk Harbour,
there was one island more beautiful than the
rest, accessible over the flats at low tide.
Nature having made fortification on this spot
comparatively easy, it was thither that the
Cape Porpoise and Kennebunk people had fled,
in the old days of Indian warfare. No one
went there now, however, and only a few scat-
tered stones marked the lines of the former
fort. It was on the seaward side of this island
that Nanny built a little shrine out of pretty
shells and bright pebbles, and dedicated it to
St. Botolph.

There was another reason that made this
worship yet sweeter and stronger to the soli-
tary little girl Her own birthday was the
seventeenth of June, — the very day dedicated
to Boston’s patron saint. St. Botolph’s care
was her birthright, as well as hers because she
was of Boston blood. So, not only because



32 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

her name was one honoured in Boston history,
but because of this childish fantasy, she had
grown up in the belief that the fate of Boston
and her own were in some way mysteriously
linked together.

“Hear me! Help me, good St. Botolph!”
she sobbed, the day her mother died, and “Go
with me, dear St. Botolph!” she whispered
when, a few weeks later, she made her last
visit to the shrine, before setting out for her
new home in distant Boston.

She had pictured to herself with what rever-
ence the memory of the good saint would be
cherished in the town of his name. Its most
beautiful church, its finest street, would be
dedicated to him. In its fairest building would
stand his statue, and his name would be
breathed in daily, hourly prayer. Surely all
Boston was the shrine of good St. Botolph, and
on the seventeenth of June, bells were rung and
bonfires blazed and verses were written in his
honour, just as at home, on that day, she never
failed to bring fresh flowers to the shrine, and
repeat before it several pages of Anne Brad-
street’s poetry.

The disappointment came with the force of



ST. BOTOLPH. 33

a shock when she found that no spot in all the
three-hilled town was sacred to the memory of
its patron saint; his name was never spoken.
Nay, once, when she ventured some question
concerning St. Botolph, the only answer was a
reproof. “Popish practices!” that was what
her aunt had termed such worship. So, from
that day, with the intense reserve of a sensitive
child, Nanny buried the thought of her beloved
saint in her deepest heart, and never spoke of
him again. As she grew older, the intensity
of the fancy faded, to some extent, till there
were times when she even smiled to herself at
the recollection. Nevertheless, in any time of
special stress the fancy returned in all its old-
time strength, and the involuntary cry from her
inmost heart was always, “Hear me, help me,
good St. Botolph!”’

His name had been in her prayers through-
out the long hours of that never-to-be-forgotten
day last summer, when the cannon were thun-
dering across the river, and from housetops and
the summits of the three hills people watched
the combat in Charlestown. Surely on this day
of all others — his own day, the seventeenth of
June — St. Botolph would aid his people, fight-



34 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

ing in the cause of righteousness; and never
had Nanny’s faith received so terrible a shock
as when it was known throughout Boston that
the battle of Bunker Hill was lost!

That night, the girl beheld with her own
eyes something of the horrors of war. The
streets of Boston were red with blood. Till
dawn the groans of the wounded sounded from
the jolting carts in which they were borne
to the hospitals, and suffering men lay in the
streets without protection from the chill dews,
or the water for which they tmplored so
piteously.



CHAPTER III.
THE LIBERTY TREE.

As Nanny left her friend’s house, the crowd
had perceptibly increased, but it was not till
she turned from Sudbury Street into Hanover
Street and drew near the house of Doctor
Warren, — whose death at Bunker Hill all
Boston lamented, —that she viewed the in-
creasing multitude with some consternation,
and for a moment paused, hesitating whether
to advance or retreat. The light of the short
October day was waning. The tide of people,
that earlier in the afternoon had been in the
direction of North Square, for some reason had
turned, and she would now have to make her
way against the current. Almost before she
was aware she was. caught up by the body of
the crowd, and borne, irresistibly, in the oppo-
site direction from her home. For a few min-

35



36 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

utes, frightened and bewildered, she struggled
to escape, but the pressure on all sides was too
great to resist. Perceiving, presently, however,
that the crowd was of a respectable, orderly
character, apparently composed, for the most
part, of mechanics and apprentices, she recov-
ered, to some extent, from her fright, and
endeavoured to ascertain the cause of the sup-
pressed excitement with which the air was
filled, and the objective point of the throng, —
for that it had in view some definite object was
evident from the air of quiet determination
evinced in the bearing of these sturdy artisans.
In suppressed undertones, with side-glances
toward the middle of the street, where the
gleam of red coats was visible, question and
answer, exclamation and execration, passed
from one to another.

«“ They have been tearing down some houses
at the north part of the town for fire-wood,”
said one.

«Our old Louisburg soldiers laugh at the
newly erected fortifications on the Neck,”
observed another, “and say they are no more
to be regarded than a beaver dam!”

It was a rough-looking man immediately in



THE LIBERTY TREE. 37

front of Nanny who spoke the last words;
tiny spirals of wood, clinging to his coat and
breeches, gave evidence of his occupation.

“You were one of those who helped the
British build their barracks!” observed his
neighbour, whose leather apron and besmudged
hands spoke of the forge.

“Let be your jibes, Nailer Tom,” retorted the
carpenter, good-naturedly, ‘As soon as we
found the way matters were going, we left off
working for their accommodation. British gold
cannot buy Boston labour !”’

“Take heed!” remarked the blacksmith, in
a lowered tone. “’Tis no knowing, in these
days, what careless word may write one’s name
in the black list!”

“Oh, ay!’ growled his more impetuous
comrade. ‘“’Tis but, ‘You are the general’s
prisoner!’ and whip! away to the man-of-
war. As well might one live in the days of
witchcraft.”

«Tis said that the treatment of our men who
who have been made prisoners has called forth
remonstrance and threats of reprisal from Gen-
eral Washington, but without avail,’ went on
Nailer Tom. ‘John Ruck has been carried off



38 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

and put on board ship. I took him breakfast
this morning. The poor fellows have nothing
to lie down on but cables, stowed under two
decks. The cook’s galley, into which I peeped,
was the kitchen of the infernal regions. The
prisoners are given nothing to eat but worm-
eaten bread and salt beef —a cup of water to
three days’ allowance of bread! The beef was
put into a great copper kettle. The fuel was
green chestnut — impossible to make burn ; so
that, maddened with hunger, each mess seized
its meat and devoured it as it was.”

The crowd had reached the Common by this
time, when there was suddenly struck up the
strains of a lively air that had grown familiar
to Boston folk, within the past few months.

«They've fitted new words to the old tune,”
remarked the man addressed as Nailer Tom.
« They go something like this:

“¢ Father ’n’ I went down to camp,
Along 0’ Cap’n Goodin’,
And there we saw the men and boys
As thick as hasty puddin’ !’”

“Maybe they’ll hear enough of Yankee
Doodle before they’ve quit singing it,” returned



THE LIBERTY TREE. 39

the carpenter. “’Tis a merry air, and as fit to
use by one side as t’other. Methinks the Brit-
ishers might have had their fill of it the day of
Lexington fight ; ’twas the tune to which Lord
Percy marched his troops out of Boston, and
‘tis said he turned pale when he heard it, and
was in ill humour all day, because of it. Truly,
‘twas never a lucky tune for the Percys of
Northumberland. In the old days of the Bor-
der Wars, an ancestor of this same young sprig
of the English nobility marched a quickstep to
that same tune, — Chevy Chase, they called it
then, if my memory misleads me not. What
now!”

There had been a pause in the slow advance
of the crowd, and then a sudden surge forward.
As though in answer to the carpenter’s excla-
mation, a murmur, that had its apparent rise on
the edge of the throng nearest the military,
resolved into words.

“To the Liberty Tree—To the Liberty
Tree!”

For a few moments it looked as though the
massacre of the fifth of March might be re-
peated. The soldiers stood with fixed bayonets.
Their officers, with drawn swords, warned



40 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

back the crowd that was pressing from every
side upon the redcoats. Not a word was
spoken, but the silence was far more ominous
than open demonstration. But the riotous
element was either lacking or held in check
by older and graver natures, for the crowd
presently fell back, and the march was resumed.
A change had come over the humour of the
people, and, instead of the interchange of com-
ment and surmise and rough jest, was a sullen
silence, while each pressed nearer his neighbour,
as though feeling, instinctively, that the hour
had struck when the men of Boston must
stand shoulder to shoulder. No mere procla-
mation, indeed, could have voiced the uncom-
promising measures to be expected from the
new commander-in-chief as did the present
movement.

The Liberty Tree was a fine old elm, not far
from the Common, on the road to the Neck.
It was under the special and visible charge of
the Sons of Liberty, and was revered by the
people as the emblem of the popular cause —
and no less execrated by the royal governors.
When a patriotic agreement was to be entered
into, or an obnoxious office resigned, and Fan-



THE LIBERTY TREE. AI

ueil Hall would not contain the multitude, it
was here that the people flocked. - Beneath
the Liberty Tree had been passed the resolu-
tions not to permit the landing of the tea, and
here it was that the royal governor, Andros,
was impugned.

It was Simon Bradstreet, the last governor
under the charter of the Massachusetts Bay
Colony, who, at the age of four-score years and
ten, led the insurrection as a duty to God and
country. When he appeared at the Liberty
Tree, a great shout arose from the free men
there assembled. Under the leadership of the
magnificent old man, the whole town arose in
arms, with the most unanimous resolve that
ever inspired a people. Andros was arrested,
the Castle was taken, the frigate mastered, and
the fortifications occupied. Once more Massa-
chusetts assembled in General Court, and Simon
Bradstreet was called again to the chair of
state, filling it till his death.

That story was to Nanny Bradstreet family
tradition, as well as a striking page of Boston’s
history. She might well feel that she had a
personal interest in the Liberty Tree. There
was no thought, now, of turning back, even if she



42 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

could have done so. The troops wheeled into
Frog Lane, in the direction of Auchmutty Street.

It was not many years ago that belief in
witchcraft was current in Boston; more than
one old woman, cried out upon for malign prac-
tices, had been hanged upon the Common.
Something of old-time superstition may have
lingered in the minds of Boston boys and girls,
for there was a current belief amongst them
that the genius of the Liberty Tree had the elm
under his special protection.

The first blow of the axe rang through the
silence. Still Nanny waited, vaguely expect-
ant, childish faith in the impossibility of the
dreadful mingling with conviction that the
genius of the tree would protect his abode.
The quick successive blows of the axe mingled
with the voices of the soldiers and Tories in
tibald song:

“ As for their King, John Hancock,
And Adams, if they’re taken,

Their heads for signs shall hang up high,
Upon the hill called Beacon!”

Something had happened! There was a sud-
den backward movement of. the crowd, a heavy
weight trod on Nanny’s foot, that, crushed



THE LIBERTY TREE, 43

against a stone, slipped, twisting her ankle.
Sick and weak with pain, the girl was jostled
unresistingly from side to side, till all at once
she found herself, like a bit of jetsam thrown
up by the sea, tossed out of the surging throng.
She tottered, and would have fallen headlong,
but some one caught her by the arm.

«What happened ?”’ she asked, faintly.

« A soldier fell from the tree and was killed,”
was the answer, out of the darkness.

Fright at this dreadful realisation of her
vague anticipations, and the sudden thought of
her position, alone at that hour, and at such a
distance from home, resulted in the cry:

‘““Oh, take me home!”

“With pleasure, madam,” responded the
boyish voice by her side.

“T—TI crave your pardon,” said Nanny,
faintly, dismay at her own boldness following
swift upon her words. “I was caught up by
the crowd and carried thither, despite myself,”
she added, more collectedly. “I think, how-
ever, I need not ask your escort.”

«Will you not permit me to accompany you,
madam?” urged her companion, and something
in the tones of his voice gave confidence.



44 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“J live. on Garden Court Street,’ she
answered, doubtfully.

“My own road lies in the same direction, in
North Square,” was the rejoinder, and, without
more ado, Nanny signified her acceptance of
the stranger’s proffer. “If you will take my
hand, we could run through Newbury Street,
and so, I think, out-distance the crowd — it
has begun to disperse,’ suggested her com-
panion.

But Nanny’s ankle pained her, and, despite
her utmost endeavours and her escort’s aid, it
was impossible to make rapid progress. New-
bury Street, too, was in darkness, for though
Boston had been provided with street-lamps
only the year before, most of them had been
destroyed during the siege.

Meantime, the girl’s thoughts were busy
concerning the identity of her companion. His
language and manners were unquestionably
those of a gentleman. He was not a British
officer, — even in the faint light his scarlet
uniform would have been visible, — yet she
could recall no one in North Square, all of
whose residents were well known to her, to
whose name he might answer.



THE LIBERTY TREE. 45

In fact, to the best of her recollection, the
only person of quality now remaining in that
part of the city was General Timothy Ruggles,
aman of middle age and violent temper. He
had an ill reputation amongst the patriots as a
virulent Tory, having, indeed, been placed in
command of the three companies of “ Loyal
American Associators,’’ —as they chose to call
themselves, — into which the people of Boston
of Tory sympathies had recently been banded,
whose object was to assist the British, if neces-
sary, ‘in the defence of the place.”

«They are catching up with us,” said the
voice by her side. “Come through West Street
to the Common.”

They regained the more travelled thorough-
fare.

In the fierce wind that was tearing, as usual,
over the Common and the Charles River
marshes beyond, the light on the corner, that
had escaped the demolition of the soldiery,
flickered and nearly went out. As it flared up
again, for the first time Nanny saw plainly the
face and figure of her companion. He was
dressed in a bluish silk camblet jacket, a fine
white ruffled shirt, cloth breeches, and worsted



40 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

stockings ; heavy shoes, with metal buckles, and
a round white linen cap completed his costume.
The girl gave a little involuntary cry of sur-
prise, for the dress was that worn by the
indentured servants in Boston families of
quality, — a position scarcely superior to that
of slave. The next instant, she saw about his
left arm the white silk sash that was the badge
of the “ Associators.” She snatched her hand
from his.

“T want not the aid of the enemy of his
country!’ she cried, passionately. “Know
you what General Washington has termed those
men who are false to all the traditions of their
birthplace, who would raise their hand against
their brother, who would help their common
enemy destroy Boston? ‘Execrable parri-
cides

As she turned to hasten from the spot,
momentarily forgetful of pain in a flood of indig-
nation, two men approached, whom she recog-
nised as her neighbours of the previous hour.
In the uncertain light, she could not be sure of
the quick look of intelligence that, for a moment,
she fancied passed between the man addressed
as Nailer Tom and her late companion.

ee



CHAPTER IV.
THE INCORRUPTIBLE THIRTY.

As Nanny entered the house, breathless
with haste, Mrs. Bradstreet came swiftly for-
ward. The explanation of her prolonged ab-
sence died away on the girl’s lips as she noted
her aunt’s pallor and the evident concern of her
manner.

“Your uncle has been arrested,” she said,
quietly.

“Arrested! Oh, aunt, will they — will
they —” :

The dreadful pictures that the word conjured
up, held her further utterance. Since the gates
of Boston were closed last June, and military
rule replaced civil government, arrests and
floggings and summary executions had become
unhappily familiar to the inhabitants. With the
arrival of General Howe, there were indications
of a veritable Reign of Terror, when suspicion

47



48 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

did not await confirmation, and accusation and
arrest were one, followed by trial and summary
sentence, before a military tribunal.

After her first involuntary exclamation of sur-
prise and fright, Nanny was able to listen calmly
to her aunt’s account of the afternoon’s occur-
rence. A squad of redcoats had appeared, at
dusk, before the house. Entering without
ceremony, the officer in command, demanding
the master of the house, spoke the dreaded
words:

“ You are the general’s prisoner !”’

Leaving Mr. Bradstreet under guard in the
dining-room, the captain addressed the mistress
of the mansion.

“Information has been lodged at headquar-
ters concerning a certain treasonable document
known to be received by you,” he said. « Pro-
duce it, and his lordship will endeavour to show
as much leniency as the circumstances of the
case will permit. Refuse, and the prisoner will
be instantly committed to the man-of-war under
the usual regulations.”

“JT give you my word, gentlemen, there is no
treasonable document concealed in this house,”
answered Mrs. Bradstreet, firmly.



THE INCORRUPTIBLE THIRTY. 49

“Reflect, madam,’’ repeated the officer,
sternly.

“My orders were positive. His lordship
believes that there has been a deal of negli-
gence in such matters of late and may deem
a summary example necessary. I regret to in-
form you that, in case of your refusal to
produce the required papers, I was ordered to
institute a search over the house,” he added, as
Mrs. Bradstreet’s silence remained unbroken.

Devastation followed the execution of the
threat. In the drawing-room, the fine red
damask furniture was cut and slashed by the
bayonets of the soldiers; fine family portraits

“were wrenched from their frames, the beautiful
carved wainscoting was stripped from the walls
and the chimneypieces ruthlessly torn away.
Above, feather beds had been cut open and
emptied ; in some rooms, even the flooring was
ripped up. Nothing, however, of a treasonable
nature was discovered. Then, after a hasty
farewell to her husband, spoken in the presence
of the officer, Mrs. Bradstreet was left alone
amid the ruins of her once beautiful home.
Alarm at Nanny’s prolonged absence was soon
added to concern for her husband’s safety, but



50 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

with the girl’s return she began calmly to
review the situation.

“His meals must be sent to him regularly,
and such provision made for his comfort as the

CE

AS



regulations permit. ‘Tis said that the clothing
of the prisoners is stolen from them by their
jailers.” Then Mrs. Bradstreet drew Nanny
into the small apartment back of the dining-
room, that had been, formerly, the master’s



THE INCORRUPTIBLE THIRTY. 51

study, or business office, but which, since the
British officers had been quartered in the house,
had been allowed by them to be retained by
Mrs. Bradstreet as her sitting-room.

“Was there a letter?’’ queried Nanny, ea-
gerly, girlish curiosity overcoming for the
moment her deeper feelings.

Mrs. Bradstreet held up a warning finger.
She looked carefully about the hall before she
closed the door, and answered, in a hushed
tone:

“ Yes, instantly destroyed, thank God! Child,
can I trust you?” she added, after a few mo-
ments of deep thought.

Nanny had matured rapidly within the past
few months. The stirring events of the times,
the fact that she lived beneath the roof of one
of the leading men of the day, had added to a
naturally fine intelligence and quick discern-
ment a judgment and self-control that were
beyond her years. So, to this first real demand
upon her strength, she could make answer with
an earnestness that bore witness to its truth.

ceVieS haa

«The weakness of our army at Cambridge is
scarcely known beyond headquarters and by a



52 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

few trusty friends,’ began Mrs. Bradstreet.
« There is some dissatisfaction amongst those
who do not know the real condition of affairs,
because of what they term General Washing-
ton’s dilatoriness. Lack of powder is not the
only reason of deferred hostilities. A disease
has recently broken out in the provincial camp,
caused, it is said, by the incessant work in the
trenches, combined with the mild weather.
There is but one remedy for the terrible shaking
fever,’ the bark of a certain tree that grows in
South America. The knowledge of this med-
icament was imparted by their converts to the
priests of the early missions and is from them
generally known as Jesuits’ bark.

“The letter was in cipher and from your
father,” went on Mrs. Bradstreet. «The brig
Chuzan has captured a British trading-vessel
from Brazil, laden with sugar and molasses and
twenty barrels of Jesuits’ bark. In the en-
counter your father was wounded in the leg and
is now at his home in Kennebunk, while the
_ Chuzan, under command of the lieutenant, is on
another cruise. The Jesuits’ bark is concealed

* Now generally known as malaria.



THE INCORRUPTIBLE THIRTY. 53

under the pulpit of the meeting-house in the
port. He desired to acquaint your uncle with
his condition, and regrets that his prize was not
the hoped-for military stores, unknowing that
at this juncture the medicament is of infinitely
more value than guns or ammunition.

“Your uncle has long known that he was
under suspicion, and gave me implicit direc-
tioris, in case of his arrest, to communicate with
Doctor Church, and to be, in all cases, guided by
him. He, at least, notwithstanding his open
connection with the patriot party, will remain
unmolested. I must take him these tidings
without delay.”

“Tet me go,” begged Nanny. “Your ab-
sence might be noticed by the officers.”

Mrs. Bradstreet paused, and sighed.

“TI must care for myself, for my husband’s
sake, and because I may yet be able to render
some service to our cause,” she acquiesced.
“You do not fear to’go alone?”’

Nanny, who had already drawn on her cape
and hood, gave assurance to the contrary. She
was soon at Doctor Church’s door, and, on
making known her name to the sentry, was
promptly ushered into the physician’s study. |



54 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

Doctor Benjamin Church was a fine-looking
man, in the prime of life. Bred a physician, he
had also achieved an enviable reputation as a
poet and a polished speaker. As a leader of
the provincial cause in Boston, he ranked with
Mr. Hancock and Mr. Adams. On his return
to the town, after the battle of Lexington, he
was promptly arrested; but his reputation as
surgeon and physician was so high, and there
was such need of skilled service, that he was
shortly after released on parole. Since then,
though under strict military surveillance, he
had rendered his services alike to British, Tory,
and patriot, and was held in equal regard by
all.

Nanny’s story was soon told.

«You bring news of rare moment, my child,”
said the doctor, after a few minutes’ reflection.
“ These tidings must be kept from every person
on earth,” he added, earnestly. “Chance and
the exigencies of the times have put you
into the possession of a secret upon which the
fate of the provincial cause may depend. Can
we rely on your discretion ?”

Proud of being in the confidence of her
elders, of being addressed almost as an equal



THE INCORRUPTIBLE THIRTY. 55

by the revered Doctor Church, Nanny gave the
required assurance.

“You have done your part, and may leave
the rest in safe hands. Convey my profound
respects to Mrs. Bradstreet, and my deepest



sympathy under her affliction,’ went on the
grave, silvery tones that never failed to inspire

confidence. ‘I regret that I may not offer you
an escort. My servant has left me, and I have
an urgent call elsewhere — You are hurt, my

child?” he asked, sympathetically, as Nanny
limped toward the door.



56 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

The girl explained her mishap.

“Let me see.’ The firm, gentle fingers.
pressed the injured ankle. “Does it hurt —
here—is this the place? I think it is not
a sprain, but you have probably wrenched
a muscle, and would best remain on your
couch for a few days,” pronounced the doctor,
kindly.

As Nanny reached her own door, there passed
her the two men she had observed in the crowd
that afternoon.

At no great distance from Garden Court
Street stood a two-story brick building with a
pitched roof, the greater elevation being in the
rear. Over the entrance projected an iron rod,
upon which crouched the copper dragon which
was the tavern’s sign. In an upper room of
this building were assembled some score of
men, whose spare faces and close-lipped mouths
were of the type of the New England mechanic.
The furniture of the apartment consisted merely
of a table, upon which lay a Bible, and a
couple of rude benches. An occasional knock
at the door was challenged by a sentinel, and
the required countersign being given, the new-
comer was admitted; advancing to the table he



THE INCORRUPTIBLE THIRTY. 57

placed a hand upon the Holy Book, and took a
solemn oath of secrecy. After this brief cere-
mony, the low-voiced talk amongst the various
groups ceased, and a few questions were ad-
dressed the arrival.

‘What news of Paul Revere?” was asked
one of these later comers, a brass-founder by
trade.

“None, since he bore Mr. Hancock’s mes-
sage from Philadelphia to Cambridge, — ‘Burn
Boston if need be, and leave John Hancock a
beggar!’” was the answer.

“Truly, the patriot cause would lose its most
trustworthy courier, should Paul Revere be the
target of a British bullet,’ added the first
speaker.

«The state of affairs in the provincial camp
is said to be terribly alarming,” went on the
brass-founder. “The supply of powder is still
short, and the New Hampshire regiments,
whose term of enlistment has expired, are
breaking camp and making for home in a body,
taking their muskets with them.”

“Ts their patriotism so soon cooled? Was the
‘bloodshed at Lexington and Bunker Hill in
vain?” said his friend, sadly.



58 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“’Tis even hinted that there is some dis-
affection amongst our men toward General
Washington,” resumed the other. “ His Ex-
cellency, being a Virginian and an aristocrat
by birth, is thought by some to be of haughty,
overbearing ways, treating the free men of
New England as though they were the slaves
upon his princely plantation on the Potomac.
Be that as it may, it remains a mystery why he
should delay an attack on Boston till the British
render their fortifications impregnable.”

“’Tis like the Kilkenny cats,” suggested the
older man, a cooper by trade. “ Either grimal-
kin watches the other with round eyes and
sharpened claws, but is afeared to stir lest the
other jump upon him. Methinks the one that
makes the first jump stands the better chance
of scratching the other’s eyes out. Here comes
Nailer Tom. Perchance he brings news!”

The two men —the blacksmith and the car-
penter — who had just entered, had served on
the first watch, it being one of the duties of
this little band of patriotic men — who called
themselves “The Incorruptible Thirty ” — to
patrol the streets, two by two, at night, that no
movement of the British might be lost. The



THE INCORRUPTIBLE THIRTY. 59

return of the first watch, at midnight, was
generally the signal for the breaking up of the
meeting, but on the present occasion, though
the men reported that nothing was stirring, and
the lights in the Province House were out,
their arrival but served as a fillip to further
discussion of the events of the afternoon and
of the inevitable suffering that would accompany
the prolonged siege.

“Matters were like to have gone hard with
my missus a month agone, for the want of good,
nourishing food,” said the blacksmith. «“ Horse
flesh she never could stomach, and with fresh
meat at fifteen pence a pound, and scarce to be
had at that, who should appear but Doctor
Church — God bless him! — with a prime leg
of mutton!”

«“ Not a penny would he take for attending
my girl Phoebe when she was sick with the
pox,’ added the brass-founder. “‘If we get
out of this trouble with our necks,’ said he,
‘we'll talk of that; but I make no charges
while the British flag flies over the Province
House!’”

«’Tis said that Doctor Warren had no great

,

love for him,” suggested the shipwright.



60 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“Tut, tut, man, meddle not with the affairs
of your betters!” returned Nailer Tom. “ What
cause they may have had for their mutual mis-
liking, I know not ; but it’s scarce the first time
that doctors have disagreed —ay, and called
each other hard names — and neither been the
worse man for it! The day after the battle of
Lexington,” continued the blacksmith, “ Paul
Revere met Doctor Church in Cambridge, —
this I had from Revere’s own lips, — when the
doctor showed him some blood on his stockings,
which he said spurted on him from a man who
was killed near him, as he was urging the
militia on. If a man will risk his life in a
cause, he must be a friend to that cause,” con-
cluded Nailer Tom, with the manner of one
who clinches an argument. “It is close on
two of the clock; we were best departing.
There will be no further news to-night.”

As though in contradiction of his last words,
the signal sounded again. Question and coun-
tersign were exchanged, and the door was
opened to admit a boy of some ‘sixteen or
seventeen years; a light silk jacket was his
only protection from the keen night wind, and
his stockings were cut and blood-stained. There



THE INCORRUPTIBLE THIRTY. 61

was a general exclamation of surprise and dis-
may, and each man started forward with a
threatening face.

«“ What's this — who’s given him the counter-
sign? There’s a traitor amongst us!”

«Nay, nay, have a care! Let go the boy.
He is all right,’ said the blacksmith. “He
was well known to Doctor Warren and Paul
Revere. What brings you here, lad, at this
hour?” he queried, as the boy, who had been
struggling lustily against his assailants, leaned,
panting, against the door.

«The oath, the oath!” was the cry. Nailer
Tom and the newcomer stood face to face, the
others closed in a ring about them, with each
man’s hands upon his neighbour’s shoulder.

«“ You'll not believe what I’ve come to tell
you,” said the boy; “but as sure as I stand
here with my hand on the Book, it is the
truth!”

“Go ahead, lad, we’re all friends here,” said
the blacksmith, as the newcomer looked from
one to another of the circle of faces, as though
seeking one to which he might particularly
address himself.

He began slowly with the evident desire to



62 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

make his tale so circumspect as to force con-
viction, yet was hurried on, the while, in spite
of himself, out of intense excitement.

“I brought my master his glass of flip at ten
o’clock, as usual, and went to my room. It is
in the gable end of the house, commanding a
view of the study window. I sat at my window,
waiting till the light below should have gone
out, —for my master, General Ruggles, not in-
frequently has late visitors. Ii was toward mid-
night when I saw a figure approaching the house,
wrapped in a military cloak that was drawn up
over his face, and with his hat pulled over his
eyes. Hewas at once admitted. I raised my
window, dropped to the ground, and crept
around to the study. The curtain hung a little
awry, so that I could see into the room quite
distinctly, though I could hear nothing. What-
ever tidings the visitor brought, they were
evidently of consequence, for General Ruggles’s
face lit up with unmistakable triumph. Pres-
ently he went to his secretary, and from a
secret drawer took out a canvas bag and
handed it to his visitor. The latter. untied it,
and poured out some of the contents; they
were new British guineas. As he did so, his



THE INCORRUPTIBLE THIRTY. 63

cloak fell back and I saw his face as plainly as
I see any of yours this moment!”

“Who was it?” came in a chorus from
about the table.

«JT —oh, I cannot tell you who it was I saw
take British gold, at midnight, from the man
who hates Boston!”

“Out with it, lad!” and the blacksmith laid
a heavy hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“It was Doctor Church!”



CHAPTER V.
THE BOUND BOY.

«No, no, lad, that couldn’t have been. I’ve
oft enough had the nightmare so real that,
though my eyes were wide open and staring,
my missus couldn’t make me believe, for a good
spell, that there wasn’t a redcoat in the room.
Doctor Church turn traitor!” laughed the black-
smith. ‘To-morrow we shall hear that John
Hancock and old Sam Adams are turncoats.”’

“1 was not dreaming,” cried the lad, earnestly.
«’Twas but for a second that I looked on his
face, but I saw it as plainly as I see yours.”

“Have a care, lad!” The heavy hand on
the boy’s shoulder increased its pressure till it
held him as ina vise. “You are a stranger in

our town, or you would know better than to

cast so foul a slander on a good man and true.”

“T’ll hear naught against the man who saved

my Phoebe’s life,” said the brass-founder, and a
64



THE BOUND BOY. 65

general murmur of approval followed the
words.

“But the hour —the evident secrecy,” cried
the boy, vehemently, as he saw that incredulity
was becoming mixed with resentment on the
hard, shrewd faces about him. ‘’Tis true that
I am a stranger amongst you, but do not let
that circumstance, at such a moment, tell against
me. Let the facts speak for themselves. There
is mischief afoot! This is not the first time, as
Nailer Tom is aware, that I have given you
timely warning! Tell them who I am, and what
you know of me,” added the boy, turning to the
blacksmith. His tone was less of entreaty than
of command.

“Revere bade me keep his connection with
our cause a profound secret, even from Doctor
Church,” hesitated Nailer Tom. “He added
that such had been his own instructions from
Doctor Warren, to whom the lad had confided.
I have obeyed Revere to the letter, but now,
when you are witnesses of the boy’s knowledge
of our affairs, and he himself bids me speak,
sure there can be no harm in telling what I
know of him before you all.

“He is called Anthony Severn, and is bound



66 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

boy to General Ruggles. °*Twas on the eve of
April nineteenth last that I first saw him, when
he helped me row Revere across to the Charles-
town shore. ’Iwas he who had brought to
Doctor Warren the information of the intended
British excursion on the morrow. They did
General Gage’s lady injustice who said ’twas
she furnished the wings which the late com-
mander-in-chief’s secrets seemed to have. Gen-
eral Ruggles is in the councils of the Province
House, and his trusted servant knows well how
to use his eyes and ears.

“Revere further told me that Anthony had
our password and would communicate with us
in case of need. Since then, though I have
sometimes seen the lad about the town, I have
exchanged no word with him until this hour.”

“ He is playing a dangerous part,’’ commented
the carpenter, gravely. “General Ruggles’s
temper is none of the best, and should he but
suspect his serving-boy of being a spy, a rope
and the nearest lamp-post would be his end.”

“From having been so short a time in the
town — less than a twelvemonth, is’t not, An-
thony ?—he is not suspected of being inocu-
lated with the pestilential doctrines that are



THE BOUND Boy. 67

thought to rage, by nature, in Boston blood.
We doubt not your good faith,’’ went on the
blacksmith, turning to the boy, “but ’tis easy
for young eyes to make a mountain out of a
mole-hill. A single peep at a man whose face,
by your own showing, was half covered, is scarce
enough to prove his identity.”

“T saw his hand, too. Who could mistake a
doctor’s hand?” urged the boy.

“One gentleman’s hand does not differ greatly
from another's,” asserted the blacksmith, dog-
matically. “Should a dozen gentlemen stick
their soft white paws through yon door, think
you that you could pick out the fingers and
thumb that belong toa doctor?” The others
joined in the contemptuous laugh with which
Nailer Tom answered his own query.

« But the gold — there was no less than three
hundred guineas in that bag! What could the
payment of such a sum mean if not the reward
of some weighty service?” returned the boy,
evidently struggling to keep patience with his
obstinate listeners.

«Tut, tut, you didn’t count it, did you?”
said the blacksmith, as though chiding a
froward child.



68 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“ How could I count it?” answered the boy,
impatiently. “’Twas not difficult to guess at
the amount, from the size of the bag.”

«Wait a bit! ‘Guess’ is not a word that
hangs a man, in these parts,” observed the
blacksmith. “Supposing, at a pinch, it was
the doctor, what then?” he went on, judicially.
“Doctor Church and General Ruggles, though
now standing, one and t’other, for the leader of
the patriots and of the Tories, have preserved
their friendship unbroken. To a doctor, mid-
night is much the same as noon, and returning
from an evening call, what more natural, seeing
the light in the study window, than that Doctor
Church should have dropped in for a glass of
your good flip and a friendly chat ?”’

It was one pitted against many, a boy en-
deavouring to hold his ground against grown
men. Looking from one immobile face to
another, General Ruggles’s bound boy realised
his inability to carry conviction to these simple-
minded men. Their loyalty unto death might
be relied upon, but when they found themselves
face to face with a situation for which experi-
ence furnished no precedent, their brains were
incapable of receiving a fresh impression.



THE BOUND BOY. 69

Then it was that these honest craftsmen
needed the keen vision, the quick, adaptive
mind of their absent leader, Paul Revere.

“There was blood on his stocking after the
battle of Lexington. If a man will risk his life
for a cause, he must be a friend to that cause,”
repeated the blacksmith, decisively.

“It’s a cock-and-bull story, lad. Let’s hear
no more of it !” added the brass-founder, sternly,
and the words evidently voiced the opinion of
all.

Heretofore the boy had measured his words,
had sought to hold in check his impatience.
But now, when he was disbelieved, scoffed at,
chidden for overimpetuosity and even reckless
slander, there blazed forth the resentment of
an imperious nature at finding its yea or nay
disputed.

“If you don’t believe me,” he cried, “so
much the worse for you! I say Doctor Ben-
jamin Church is a traitor, and [ll prove it!”

“Ay, do. Ask General Ruggles for his visi-
tor’s name and business,” responded the black-
smith, with clumsy irony. ‘“ Going?”

“I must be back before ['m missed. My
master will rise betimes this morning, for I



7O A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

lose my guess if he do not pay his early re-
spects at the Province House,” added the boy,
significantly.

After his departure, disapproving comment
was unrestrained.

« Well, well, a young cockerel crows loud, and
perhaps, from being trusted by his betters, the
boy has come to think himself lord of the
barn-yard,” said Nailer Tom, good-naturedly.

«A lad of parts he may be, but a modest
air would better become his humble station,”
growled the brass-founder. “He could scarce
demean himself with more high and mighty
airs if, instead of a bound boy, the blood of all
the Percys swelled in his veins.”

“He bears a most noteworthy resemblance,
both in form and feature, to Lord Percy —
didst notice ?” remarked the shipwright. “ His
lordship may be a dozen years or so the boy’s
elder; nevertheless, put on this young Anthony
a fine Ramillies wig and cocked hat, give him
my lord’s scarlet and gold uniform and jewelled
sword, and I warrant me the bound boy could
march through the town at the head of his
splendid ‘Shiners,’ with the eyes of all the
maids and matrons in Boston following him,



THE BOUND BOY. 71

and none guess that he were not the son
and heir of the great Duke of Northumber-
land!”

«That may well be,” said the blacksmith,
significantly. “If what Revere was told be
true, the boy has some right to demean him-
self as the equal of the duke’s son. He was
brought up, so ran the tale, upon the estate
of a certain nobleman, in his time one of the
gayest young macaronis in London. After-
ward the boy was placed at Christ Hospital,
and when, later, General Ruggles sent through
his London agents for a youth to be indentured
to him for the term of seven years, his Grace
took heed that due inquiries should be made
concerning the general’s worth and substance,
and would have it in the agreement that, should
the boy behave well, his master would advance
him in the world, for which understanding a
handsome sum was paid. ‘Tis the lad’s interest
to stand well with General Ruggles, and this,
no doubt, makes his master the more certain of
his faithfulness. Yet it can scarce be a pleas-
ant sight for the nameless bound boy to see
Earl Percy the idol of the town, and he be
deemed fit for nothing better than to hold a



72 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

torch outside his lordship’s door, when he knows
full well that, had he his rights, he could call
not only my Lord Percy of Northumberland, but
his Majesty, King George the Third, cousin !”

The early light was gilding the vane of the
‘golden Indian on the Province House when the
second patrol was admitted to the upper room
of the Green Dragon. The two men were in a
state of evident excitement.

«There has been the most scandalous, dis-
honourable, shilly-shally conduct that can be
conceived of!” cried one. “The proclamation
of yesterday has been recalled and no one is to
be allowed to leave the town. The lines on
the Neck have been doubled and the ferry-
boat is drawn up alongside the man-of-war.
The interdict particularly forbids the departure
of women and children.”

Tears of baffled purpose, and yet more, of
anger, were in the eyes of General Ruggles’s
bound boy as, unheeding the pain from his
bruised and cut feet, he hurried through Green
Dragon Lane and darted along the various
“short cuts’’ for which Boston was notable.
The conviction of some awful impending dan-
ger, the nature of which he could not even con-



THE BOUND BOY. 73

jecture, goaded him nearly to madness with an
impotent sense of responsibility. At any rate,
he would seek no counsel nor aid again from
those dolts of workingmen. But as he ran
along, his hot-headed anger began to cool, and
natural good sense suggested that perhaps, after
all, it was scarcely to be expected that his un-
supported statement, his a nameless nobody’s,
— involuntarily his handsome head was thrown
back, his hand clenched itself at the thought, —
should be believed in a monstrous accusation
against Doctor Church, a man endeared to these
people by a long record of oft unrequited kind-
ness.

Who, in all Boston, was there for him to con-
sult? True, he might make his way to General
Washington and tell his tale. But had he any-
thing of real substance to communicate? He
recognised the weakness of his position more
clearly now, since he had failed to convince the
“TIncorruptible Thirty ” that his story was any-
thing more than a dream. Stay! there was one
man in Boston to whom he might appeal, one
whose mere name was a sufficient guarantee of
his loyalty. At whatever peril to himself, this
very night he would seek Mr. Bradstreet.



74 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

As he had surmised, General Ruggles re-
paired at an early hour, that morning, to the
Province House, but of the nature of the ensu-
ing interview with Lord Howe, Anthony could
gather no hint. It may have been the result of
an excited imagination that, throughout the day,
his master seemed unusually irascible, while
at times he appeared deeply buried in thought.

That night he brushed the Tory general’s
best uniform, and burnished his sword in readi-
ness for Lord Percy’s ball. The festivity began
at an early hour, but cards and drinking would
undoubtedly keep the gentlemen at the Hancock
House till long after midnight. So, after re-
ceiving instructions to present himself, in due
season, to attend his master home, Anthony’s
time was his own for some hours to come. He
was reasonably sure that the officers quartered
at Mr. Bradstreet’s would be at the ball, and
that the soldiers detailed as their servants would
have been given their liberty. Deeming it
wiser, also, to avoid the appearance of stealth,
he went boldly to the front entrance of the
mansion on Garden Court Street. The door was
opened by Mrs. Bradstreet herself, for servants
were difficult to obtain in these troubled times.



THE BOUND BOY. 75

“Let me in, quick!’ whispered the boy.
“ Here I may be seen and I have news of im-
portance to communicate.”

Instantly Mrs. Bradstreet blew out the candle
she carried and, motioning the visitor inside the
house, closed and bolted the door. Taking him
by the hand, she led the way to a small room in
the rear of the house. Then she relit the can-
dle and, holding it high above her head, scruti-
nised her visitor sharply.

«Who are you, and what is your errand?”
she demanded.

“What I have to say deeply concerns Mr.
Bradstreet,” answered the boy, earnestly. “Say
to him, I entreat you, that one whom Doctor
Warren honoured with his trust would speak to
him.”

«Mr. Bradstreet was arrested yesterday after-
noon,” returned the mistress of the house.

“Mr. Bradstreet arrested!” exclaimed the
boy, in dismay. “It is allof a piece, some plot
is surely hatching!”

«What you would have said to Mr. Brad-
street, you may safely say to me,” said the
patriot’s wife.

The heavy sorrow that had befallen her, yes-



76 ' A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

terday, must be set aside. To-morrow she
might have to mourn her husband’s departure
for Halifax, perchance for England, with scant
hope of ever seeing him again. To-day she
must stand in his place, and the call found her
instant to respond.

There was no mistaking the look and tone,
and without hesitation or reserve the boy re-
sponded. This time his listener was a woman,
with wits sharpened to almost -preternatural
keenness by personal wrongs. By the look that
flashed upon her face at the first mention of
“Doctor Church’s name, the boy felt, with a
throb of relief and triumph, that his story had
carried conviction.

“Tt was Doctor Church who caused my hus-
band’s arrest!” she said, calmly. “I see it all
now. He has long been on friendly terms with
the officers quartered here, and when Mr. Brad-
street remonstrated with him on this intimacy,
replied that he encouraged the friendship be-
cause he could thus keep informed of the
enemy’s plans. Perhaps by putting our stories
together, we may find that the halves fit to a
nicety,” she added, with the smile seen on a
woman’s face when intensity of feeling and



THE BOUND BOY. VE

purpose has, for the time, shut out everything
but the task before her. ‘Yesterday after-
noon,” she went on, “a letter was brought to
us from my husband’s brother, Captain Simon
Bradstreet, of Kennebunk. His messenger was
a trusty neighbour belonging to one of the new
regiments now being mustered in. It would
have been well-nigh impossible for the man to
gain entrance into the town, so he gave the
letter to a kinsman, living in the adjacent coun-
try, who was about to set out for Boston with a
load of wood. The need of fire-wood is so great
that, after rigorous search by the guards on the
Neck, the countryman was permitted to pass.
He delivered the letter, which had been con-
cealed between the soles of his boot.”

Briefly, Mrs. Bradstreet told the contents of
the missive,and the terrible new need of the army.

«What followed,” she continued, “I can only
conjecture. Doctor Church, learning from Cap-
tain Price or his brother officer of the man’s
visit here, probably sought him out, and drew
from him without difficulty the fact of the
letter. Of its contents the messenger was
ignorant. How smoothly he has covered his
villainy! Only to-day he called to express his



78 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

sympathy at my husband’s arrest, and, when I
asked the meaning of this last proclamation
of Lord Howe’s, had his answer ready to the
effect that women and children were to be kept
in Boston as a measure of safety, it being
feared that, with their removal, General Wash-
ington would no longer hesitate to bombard
the town. Fool that I was to acquaint him
with the contents of the letter! Yet it may not
be too late! So, it is to be a war against women
and children? Well, Doctor Church, since we
are to be treated as combatants, perchance we
shall be found worthy of recognition!”

There was a look in Mrs. Bradstreet’s eyes that
told the old tale of how dangerous the female
animal becomes when aroused in the defence of
her loved ones.

«Whatever is done must be done this very
night —at once,” she went on. ‘The oppor-
tunity will scarce repeat itself. The Hancock
House is at the other end of the town ; discipline
will be lax, and the soldiers gathered at the tav-
erns. A messenger must be found who will take
the word to Captain Bradstreet to despatch the
Jesuits’ bark to Cambridge without delay. But
whom to send! No, no; not you. You must



THE BOUND BOY. 79

remain and find out the enemy’s next move.
They are not like to be idle, but their difficulty
of finding a trustworthy messenger is as great
— perchance greater than ours!”’

« Aunt, let me go!”

It was a girl’s voice. Unobserved, Nanny
had slipped into the room and been a listener
to her aunt’s last words.

“You—no, child, it is not to be thought
!” returned Mrs. Bradstreet.

“Tf I should be missed, if the officers ques-
tion my absence, it is by Doctor Church’s
directions that I am keeping to my couch,”
urged the girl, her clear, dark eyes full of
earnestness, the sweet, sensitive mouth trem-
ulous with feeling. ‘Besides, if I am met on
the road and questioned,” she went on, “I am
going to my wounded father. Throughout
New England the name of Simon Bradstreet
is a password,” she added, proudly.

“But your foot?” Mrs. Bradstreet was evi-
dently thinking rapidly.

«Tis not so painful, at present, that I cannot
walk,” answered Nanny, smiling. “If I am lame,
for a little, after the errand is done, sure, ’tis no
matter to cry over.”

of



80 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“Once beyond the British lines, the country
is patriotic, but the road from here to Kenne-
bunk is long, the stage-coach betwixt here and
Portsmouth has stopped running, and you may
meet with unexpected difficulties. You must
not fail! Whatever chance, the message must
be taken to your father. Think well, Anne!”
the childish name unconsciously giving place to
that of maturity.

_ “T will not fail,” answered the girl, stead-
fastly.

“How to get through the lines! It were
impossible to procure a pass after this new
proclamation —”

“T have a plan,” broke in the boy, eagerly.
“That night, last April, when I helped row
Revere across the river, I took the canoe back
to its old hiding-place beneath Ruck’s Wharf.
There I am confident I shall still find it. By
keeping the channel between Charlestown and
Noddle Island, I can pass unseen the Somerset
and the British batteries on Bunker’s Hill, and
skirting along Hog Island, paddle up the creek -
at Chelsea, beyond the British outposts.”’

«Thence you will soon strike the Salem turn-
went on Mrs. Bradstreet, in rapid direc-

”

pike,



THE BOUND BOY. 8I

tion. “A walk of five or six miles takes you
to the tavern at Saugus. Landlord Newhall
will farther you to Portsmouth; beyond, you
must use your own discretion. Now that the
British know our secret, it is a fight against
time between us, and the delay even of sec-
onds might be fatal. Get ready instantly. I
will fetch you a flask of brandy. Only mind,
do not touch it except in extremity. You
would best not leave the house together. Go
from the front door, and await your companion
around the corner beneath the garden wall,”
she directed the boy. A few minutes later
she withdrew the bolt of a door in the rear
of the mansion.

«God keep you, my child,” she said.

There was no embrace, no display of emotion.
The strong Puritan heart, the clear Puritan
head, the indomitable Puritan will, sent out this
girl, dear to her as her own child, to do her
part for her country, as many a mother was
sending her son to suffer or to die.

While the British general and his officers
danced and caroused through the hours of that
night, three miles distant, on the other side
of the river, kept watch “the noblest figure



82 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

that ever stood in the forefront of a nation’s
life.” |

At sunset there had been signs of increasing
cold. To all human prescience only in a sharp
frost lay the hope that the sore sickness with
which the little army was smitten would be
ended. Familiar enough to one accustomed
to the havoc wrought by the pestilential swamps
of the Southern lowlands, the “shaking fever”
struck terror, from its very strangeness, to the
hearts of men born and bred in the pure bracing
air of New England.

But as the last of Lord Percy’s boon com-
panions staggered from the stately mansion by
Boston Common, there where the Charles
twisted itself through the Cambridge meadows,
Washington turned from the window with a
sigh, for he knew that not for many a day
would come the frost to heal the bitter sickness.
Yet even then, the darkest hour of the struggle,
the faith of the great leader did not falter.

“How it will end, God in His great goodness
will direct,” he said.



CHAPTER VI.
THE BROAD ARROW.

THE silence between Nanny and her compan-
ion was unbroken till they reached the deserted
wharf, and Anthony assisted her to a place in
the canoe.

«The paddle should be muffled,’ he whis-
pered. ‘I may find a piece of old sail-cloth
above.”’ He rose to pull himself up to the wharf.

«Wait a minute,” returned Nanny, softly,
and directly there fell at the boy’s feet some-
thing soft and warm. It was the little rebel’s
petticoat.

It was not till he had landed her on the
Chelsea shore that the boy spoke again.

“You don’t think me, now, an ‘execrable
parricide ?’” he questioned.

“Not now,” whispered Nanny. Then she
hastened forward over the wind-swept marshes.

83



84 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

At nightfall, the following day, she was set
down in Portsmouth, at the door of the Mar-
quis of Rockingham. Without delay, Land-
lord Newhall set out on his return journey,



and presently Nanny had forgotten fatigue and
her strange surroundings in sleep. Early the
following morning she was aroused by a com-
motion below. The landlady and the maid-ser-
vants were in the tap-room, gathered about a
woman extended on the settle.



THE BROAD ARROW. 85

“Tt’s Mistress Tilton’s daughter,” explained
the maid to whom Nanny addressed herself.
«She’s walked every step of the way from
Falmouth,* where they’re cutting everybody’s
throats without by your leave. Oh, Lordy,
we shall all be murdered in our beds!”

Nanny leaned against the wall, sick and faint.
There rushed upon her the old tales of the
French and Indian Wars, many of the most
hideous tragedies of which had taken place in
the neighbourhood of her own home. There was
vivid in her mind the scenes of that terrible
seventeenth of June!

Presently Mrs. Tilton, after making her daugh-
ter comfortable in bed, returned to the tap-room,
and confirmed the maid’s incoherent utterances.
Two days ago, Falmouth had been surprised
by the appearance, in the offing, of five vessels.
They speedily warped up the harbour, and lay
in line before the town, when a letter from
Captain Mowatt, the commander of the squadron,
was sent ashore. It was to the effect that
unless, by nine o’clock, all the arms and ammu-
nition in the town were surrendered, Falmouth
would be destroyed. Falmouth employed the

1 Now Portland.



86 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

interval in removing the stores to a place of
safety, and sent back an uncompromising refusal.

Prompt on the hour, a blood-red pennant
went up to the masthead of the flag-ship, and
the bombardment began. Parties came on
shore to set buildings on fire, and to murder
the inhabitants in cold blood. With other
panic-stricken fugitives, Mrs. Tilton’s daughter
fled, and, after several days and nights of suf-
fering, at last reached Portsmouth.

“’Tis said our turn will come next,” said the
landlady. “Be that as it may, I stay here.
You will not fare farther?’’ she added, anx-
iously.

Nanny struggled with a terrible temptation.
Why not remain here in comparative safety till
the peril was over, or, at least, till more was
known with certitude?

Then there swept over her the thought of
the suffering army —of Boston in its extrem-
ity! She recalled her promise to her aunt and
her renewed vow. With a sudden sweep of
exaltation seemingly beyond the capacity of her
years, she felt herself one with those devoted
men who, in this cause, had ‘pledged their
lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honour.”



THE BROAD ARROW. 87.

And all the intensity of conscience, inherited
from her namesake of long ago, urged her for-
ward.

“You cannot go by the highway,” said
Mrs. Tilton. ‘The Britishers are like to land
anywhere along the coast !”

«Then I will go by the back country roads,”
returned Nanny, steadfastly. “I am no fine
lady, afraid of a little jolting,” she added. «TI
have taken many a long ride along our beaches
or through the forests, on a pillion behind my
father, watching the men fell the trees that
the brig Chusan was to carry to Spain and
Portugal.”

«What the Britishers left us!” grumbled the
landlady, whose patriotism had been mightily
increased by personal wrongs. “They were
aye fond of putting the broad arrow upon the
straightest, tallest pines in our forests, and woe
betide the man who cut down the tree on which
the crown surveyor had set his mark. But 'tis
not for pirates and cut-throats that we grow
our forests, and last May, when a brig from
England came into Portsmouth on its errand,
it was told to look elsewhere to supply the
dock-yards of Bristol and Aberdeen. We were



88 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

not alone in our defiance, and ’tis to punish
us for these actions, doubtless, that Mowatt
is laying waste the coast!”

Trade, and not the religious impulse —as
was the case with the other New England col-



onies — was the impelling motive that led to
the settlement of Maine. Hence, roads being
regarded as of more importance than meeting-
houses, a result of this difference was a fine
highway, stretching along the entire coast, such



THE BROAD ARROW. 89

as scarce another of the colonies could boast.
In the sparsely settled country farther inland,
however, the only means of communication
were cart-tracks, or, in the forest, mere bridle-
paths, “blazed”? by the woodman’s axe.

«“ The usual charge of the Marguts for a horse
is threepence a mile, but not a penny do we
take from the daughter of Simon Bradstreet,”
said the landlady. “You'll make the distance
by nightfall to the old Barnet garrison-house.
The Barnet folks will keep you overnight, and
set you on your way in the morning. Ports-
mouth folks and Boston folks were ever good
friends, and God save Boston in her need, say
I!” were the good woman’s parting words.

The old garrison-house had given refuge to
a party of fugitives from Falmouth, who re-
peated the tale of terror. But there was no
longer room for hesitation in Nanny’s mind,
and at an early hour the following morning
she set out on her journey through the forest.
The day was mild for the season, and, as it ad-
vanced toward noon, became oppressively warm.
Moss-grown boulders impeded her path, and the
bushes sent forth long shoots that caught her
gown, or stabbed her with dagger-like points.



90 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

Early frosts had cracked the ground, and the
succeeding thaw had converted these fissures
into trap-like bog-holes of uncertain depth.

All at once the horse stopped and turned
his head, saying, as plainly as animal could, that
the task was beyond equine powers. There
was no help for it! Nancy slipped from the
saddle, knotted the reins about his neck, and
stood watching him out of sight. Then she
continued her way afoot, trying to disregard
the pain in her injured ankle, that had already
given premonitory twinges. Her hands and
feet were soon torn and bleeding; every inch
gained was pain. By and by her ankle, the
pain become poignant, refused to bear her
weight. She went forward on her hands and
knees.

Her thoughts dwelt persistently on the little
flask of brandy in her bosom. A few sips of
the potent liquor would warm and cheer her,
but she combated the ever growing desire to
gain brief comfort for limbs and heart, at the
possible cost of her brain becoming less clear,
her will less dominant.

It was past midnight when she at last
emerged from the woods. Kennebunk lay



THE BROAD ARROW. gI

across the fields to the sea, only two miles dis-
tant. Not till then did she raise the brandy to
her lips.

Crouched by her father’s bedside, she told
him of Boston’s need.

«And I must lie here,—a useless hulk!
Curse the rascal who fired that shot!” muttered
Captain Bradstreet. «All the men who can
pull a rope, are aboard ship, except old Hank
Haff, and there’s not a seagoing craft in the
port ; though ’twould be, indeed, only Heaven’s
own chance that could enable a vessel to dodge
the scouting boats of the British fleet in Boston
Harbour, and land the stuff anywhere on the
Massachusetts coast. By land it must be, then,
though there’s nary horse in Kennebunk. We're
not fond, man or woman, of trusting ourselves
to a treacherous four-legged beast, when we
have the broad sea and a good ship to take us
whither we would. Deacon Tebbett’s ox-
team may not be a lively craft, but — ha, what’s
that?”

For the sound of a horse’s hoofs echoed
through the still morning air. In a place where
a horse was almost a fabled creature, the very
sound was momentous. Forgetful of pain,



g2 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

Nanny sprang to her feet and hastened to the
window.

“It’s somebody on a big white horse!” cried
she, breathlessly. “He is dismounting here.
Oh, father, it’s the boy I told you of. It’s
Anthony Severn!”

Almost instantly upon the words, Anthony
entered the room, hatless, bootless, coatless,
his shirt clinging in wet folds to his figure.
It was evident that he had ridden long and
hard.

“Lord Howe has despatched a messenger to
Portsmouth, sir,” he said, « where the squadron
of Captain Mowatt was expected to arrive day
before yesterday. Mowatt is ordered to proceed
at once to Kennebunk, and seize and destroy
twenty barrels of Jesuits’ bark, known to be
stored in the meeting-house. If removed, to
follow it up. At all hazards, to prevent its
reaching the provincial army.

“ His Excellency, General Washington, pre-
sents his compliments to Captain Simon Brad-
street. His Excellency desires me to say that
he relies upon Captain Bradstreet to get the
Jesuits’ bark, without delay, to Marblehead,
where a convoy of troops will be in waiting.”



THE BROAD ARROW. 93

“His Excellency may rely upon Simon Brad-
street,” returned the captain, simply.

He was looking intently at the lowering sky,
at the heavy cloud banks on the horizon.

“It’s Heaven’s own chance, a three days’
nor’easter,” he said at length. “Send for old
Hank Haff.”

“Now, boy,” said he, when his bidding was
done, “let’s hear your story.”

«°’Twas no easy thing for General Howe to
find a messenger to Mowatt, sir,” began the lad.
“The country is generally patriotic and on the
alert, and ’twould scarce be possible for a British
officer, however disguised, to make his way
from Boston to Portsmouth without detection.
At last a deserter from our army —”

«What's that!” interrupted the captain,
sharply.

“A New Hampshire man, sir. The cause
of his desertion was a grudge against General
Washington, himself. It seems that he was
at fisticuffs with one of the Marblehead men,
when his Excellency rode up in the midst of
the brawl, and, seizing either combatant by the
throat, shook and rated them soundly. The
New Hampshire man betook himself that night



94. A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

to the British outposts on the Neck, and was
made prisoner. At his own request he was
brought before Lord Howe. He was the man
they wanted.”

“Tt’s a pity his Excellency left a good job
half done,” muttered Captain Bradstreet. «May
a rope complete the choking, and may I be
present.”

“Mrs. Bradstreet, whom I immediately
acquainted with the development of matters,
now thought it time that General Washington
should be informed. ’Twas she, sir, who
planned for me to get to the provincial camp.”

“My brother’s wife has a head on her shoul-
ders,” assented the captain.

«General Ruggles has chafed not a little at
his fare since the siege. I made bold to sug-
gest that fresh fish might be an agreeable
change from pork and beans. He had no dif-
ficulty in procuring me a fishing pass from the
vice-admiral of the fleet, with liberty to get
bait on Governor’s Island. I rowed out as far
as Dorchester flats and landed. If I were
observed by any of the vessels in the harbour
—they keep a sharp lookout —I was digging
clams for bait. I worked gradually off from



THE BROAD ARROW. 95

the shore till it was dark; then climbing
Dorchester Heights, I was soon in the pro-
vincial camp.

“My story tallied, fortunately, with informa-
tion that his Excellency had already received
regarding Doctor Church’s treachery. A letter
writ by him to General Gage last spring, re-
vealing the weakness of the provincial army,
had just been placed in General Washington’s
hands.

“T was of light weight, accustomed to rid-
ing, — indeed, I once won the Newmarket for
his Grace, —and time was of the utmost im-
portance. His Excellency gave me a passport
and ordered his own magnificent charger to be
saddled. ‘There’s not his like in New England
—no, nor even in Virginia,’ said his black
servant, as he brought the horse to the door.
Faith, he might have added, ‘Nor in all
England.’

«How did you contrive to learn the enemy’s
plans?” questioned the captain.

“General Ruggles was presented with a load
of fire-wood from some buildings just torn down,”
answered the boy, after a momentary hesitation.
“Tt was my work to saw the joists and planks



96 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

into suitable lengths for the fireplace. The
shed was next my master’s study. I contrived
to bore a hole through the partition, and as I
piled the wood I leaned some stout bits of
timber against the rear wall so as to form a
sort of lean-to, about big enough for a rat to
crawl through, taking care to conceal the en-
trance. Whenever my master had visitors I
wriggled along this passage, and put my ear to
the augur hole. I was never absent from my
task more than a few minutes at a time, so no
suspicion was aroused. There was even talk
about sending me on the errand to Portsmouth,
but the hazard was deemed too great. They
honoured me by saying I should be taken for
my Lord Percy,” added the boy, with a smile.

«We shall have further need of your services,
my lad,” said the captain. «“That’s old Hank’s
step.”

Then, as now, the finest sailors in the world
were born and bred on the coast of Maine.
Then, as now, from Kittery to Eastport, along
its fir-crowned cliffs and the endless intricacies
of its fiords and island-dotted bays, no name,
borne from father to son, was held in higher
honour than that of Hank Haff.



THE BROAD ARROW. 97

“Hank, can you swim?” asked Captain Brad-
street, with grim significance.

« What call hev I ter know how ter swim?”
responded the old sailor, indignantly. « Only
landlubbers need learn how ter swim. [I calker-
late ter keep in the boat.”

«Will you sail for Marblehead in your sloop
this afternoon ?”’

“Cap'n, if them’s the orders, [ll sail fer
hell! —an’ hell it'll be, outside, afore dark,”
said Hank Haff, solemnly.



CHAPTER VII.
THE REBECCA AND POLLY.

“A BRITISHER’S mind isn’t rigged like a
Yankee’s. It sails best on a straight course;
it doesn’t come natural to veer and _ tack.
There’s none of Mowatt’s men as good at
following a trail as our backwoodsmen, but
Deacon Tebbett’s ox-team will make tracks a
blind man could see,” chuckled the captain. “If
the Rebecca and Polly can slip under the Brit-
ishers’ noses, I'll answer for it that not a ship
in Mowatt’s squadron —no, nor in the Royal
Navy — dare follow outside Cape Porpoise. A
nor’easter on our coast is no joke, even to the
men of our parts; and it isn’t every man
amongst us who could bring a ship through it
from here to Marblehead — let alone a little
fishing-sloop, single-handed. But the man who
can do it is old Hank Haff!

98



THE REBECCA AND POLLY. 99

«But you are running your head into a
noose, I fear, my boy!”

The jubilant note died out of Captain Brad-
street’s voice. In its stead was one of manly
sympathy, though his sense of duty would not
permit his regret, however poignant, to turn
him from the course that he saw plain and
open before him.

“T can give my life as well—-or maybe
better than many another, sir,” answered the
boy, simply. -“There’s no one to miss me if
they do hang me.”

« They'll scarce hang you fora spy in that rig,
at all events,” said the captain. Anthony was
dressed in some discarded clothes of his own.
« But Mowatt is a devil, afloat or ashore, and he
won't take kindly to a Yankee trick. Remember
that every league you lead the landing party
from the port gives old Hank a better chance.
Good-bye, my lad, and God be with you!”

Nanny had been a silent but intensely in-
terested listener to the colloquy between her
father and Anthony Severn. Exhausted though
she was, of rest she would not hear. She had
laid aside her wet garments for a frock partially
outgrown and left behind when she went to



Full Text


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| _EDITH ROBINS ON = .

| 2 CORNER: SERIES 8
The Baldwin Library

|RmB wen





A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY




Works of

Edith Robinson

Â¥
A Little Puritan’s First Christmas
A Loyal Little Maid
A Little Puritan Rebel
A Little Daughter of Liberty
CF
L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY

(Incorporated)

232 Summer St., Boston, Mass.





A CEE DAUGHTER OF
LS BREE

BY

EDITH ROBINSON

AUTHOR OF “A LOYAL LITTLE MAID,” “A LITTLE
PURITAN REBEL,” ETC.

Lllustrated by
AMY M. SACKER



BOSTON

L. Cc. PAGE AND COMPANY
(INCORPORATED)

1899
Copyright, 1899
By L. C. PaGE AND COMPANY
(INCORPORATED)

Colonial IBress
Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
Boston, Mass., U.S. A.


" CHAPTER PAGE

I. A RENEWED Vow . : , ; II
II. St. BoroLtey , , Sarat : 28
III. THe Liperty TREE . x : Ps 35
IV. THE INCORRUPTIBLE THIRTY : 47
V. THE Bounp Boy . 3 3 . . 64.
VI. THE Broap ARROW . : : 5 83
VII. THe REBECCA AND POLLY . 4 , 98

VIII. THe BREAKFAST AT THE HANCOCK
House : : : A 5 . 112
00g PB 06,

ILIVSTRATIONS'



VS 2 BOO po
PAGE
NANNY Sere : : ; : Frontispiece
“ NANNY MOUNTED THE Low, BROAD WINDOW-

SUL veces : : : : : : 33
NANNY AND HANNAH ; ; : : ai 4)
Nanny AND Mrs. BRADSTREET ; ; eeaSO
“ NANNY REACHED HER Own Door” . pees
NANNY AND ANTHONY 5 : . F aod
NANNY AND THE LANDLADY . 5 ; . 88
“SHE EXTENDED BoTH HER Hanps” . . 100

“NANNY TURNED HrER HEAD TO SURVEY
CRITICALLY THE LUSTROUS BREADTHS OF
WHITE BROCADE” : f . 13

“SHE STOOD FOR A MomMENT MEASURING THE
DISTANCE TO THE FARTHER END OF THE
Lone Room” ; . : . 5 eeel2y7.
PREFACE.

THREE rides are memorable in the early his-
tory of the Revolution. One is the well-known
ride of Paul Revere, who, on the night of April
18, 1775, warned the country about Boston of
the intended British raid on the morrow.

Less celebrated in verse and story, but
equally worthy of commemoration, was the
ride of Czesar Rodney, who, on July second of
the same year, rode from Dover, Delaware, to
Philadelphia to carry Delaware’s vote in favour
of the Declaration of Independence, covering
the distance of eighty miles in thirty hours.

Early in November, 1775, a young English
serving boy rode from the headquarters of the
provincial army at Cambridge to Kennebunk,
Maine, in less than thirty-six hours. Untold
in verse or story, its record preserved only in
family papers, or as a dim tradition of the
Maine coast, the ride of Anthony Severn was
no less heroic in its action and memorable in
its consequences.
EEE DAU CH EERCOR LIBERA Y:



CHAPTER I.
A RENEWED Vow.

«THE streets are crowded! I assure you I
had some difficulty in making my way thither.
All one hears on every side is talk of the proc-
lamation of his lordship, the new commander-
in-chief.”

“°Tis indeed true that General Howe has
decided to winter in Boston?”

« Wait but an instant till I can draw breath,
and I will read the proclamation to you. I se-
cured one of the hand-bills that are being dis-
tributed without.”

Nanny Bradstreet threw aside her cape and
hood. Her frock, like that of her friend,

Hannah Soley, was of linsey-woolsey, spun by
II
12 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

their own hands. That arch-rebel, Sam Adams,
might utter his seditious sentiments in town
meeting, and John Hancock boldly set his sig-
nature to that treasonable document, the Decla-
ration of Independence, in the Continental
Congress; but neither in Bostcn nor Phila-
delphia were to be found more ardent rebels
than in the sewing-circles of the Puritan town,
even those composed of young girls. In those
miniature camps, resolutions were solemnly
passed to endure and sacrifice everything rather
than yield to the tyranny of the British minis-
try. Ardent lovers of tea drank without gri-
mace the concoction of raspberry leaves that took
the place of the prime Bohea to which they had
been accustomed ; silken gowns were laid aside
without a murmur, for it was arch-treason to
purchase goods from England, and even the
precious pewter tankards and porringers were
cast unhesitatingly into the melting-pot to sup-
ply the empty bullet-pouches of the provincial
army.

“ Listen |”

There was no need of the command, for
Hannah was waiting, in much impatience, to
learn the contents of the hand-bill Nanny
imi ull are



“NANNY MOUNTED THE LOW, BROAD WINDOW-
SIE 13

A RENEWED VOW. 15

mounted the low, broad window-sill, and, with
an air of much consequence, proceeded to read :

«« «Whereas the present and approaching dis-.
tresses of many of the inhabitants in the town
of Boston, from the scarcity and high prices of
provisions, fuel, and the other necessary articles
of life, can only be avoided by permitting them
to go where they may hope to procure easier
subsistence ; inhabitants who wish to leave the
town are requested to give their names to the
town-major before twelve o’clock on the ninth
instant.’ There, what think you of that?” de-
manded Nanny. “’Tis plain, is’t not, that Lord
Howe does not mean to evacuate the town till
forced to do so? Do you think your honoured
father will be one of those to leave?”

“I fear such will be the case,” returned
Hannah, sadly. ‘My mother, as you know,
is in delicate health, and without suitable food
or fire-wood we could not, with safety to her,
tarry here through the winter. Will your hon-
oured uncle remain?”

“That will he, —though twenty sieges take
place!” answered Nanny, stoutly. “He deems
it his duty to stay that he may protect his own
property and that of his friends. ’Tis said, in-
16 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

deed, without scruple, by the British, that those
who quit the town forfeit all the effects they
leave behind.”

« And do you, too, remain?”

«Where else should I be at such a time, but
in Boston?” returned Nanny, with dignity.
“Tis true that I have only lived here since I
was a child ; nevertheless, Boston and no other
spot is my home. Was it not my own great-
grandfather — ”

“Have you heard aught lately of your hon-
oured father?” interrupted her friend, with an
interest that, though genuine, was expressed at
that moment with particular earnestness. At-
tached though her friends were to her, and a
leader amongst them though she undoubtedly
was, it was sometimes hinted by her mates that
Nanny Bradstreet displayed an undue tendency
to exalt herself because of her ancestor, Simon
Bradstreet, truly a man of notable character and
deeds, and of his wife, Anne Bradstreet, who
was a world-famed poet.

“Naught has been heard of him since the
brig Chuzan, jointly owned by my father and
my uncle, was fitted out as a privateer under
the recent orders of his Excellency, General
A, RENEWED VOW. 17

Washington. My uncle awaits daily news
from the Chuzan, thinking it probable that
the brig is hovering off the New England
coast in order to intercept any store-ships
that may be on their way to the army in
Boston. My uncle knows well that Captain
Simon Bradstreet is not one to be making a
pleasure cruise at such a time!” added the girl,
proudly. ‘“’Twas another Simon Bradstreet,
my great-grandfather, who helped to settle
these shores, when Boston was a wilderness
of scrubby trees and huckleberry-bushes, and
the wolves howled to the very edge of the
peninsula. Another Anne Bradstreet was it,
too, who, one hundred and fifty years ago,
walked these very streets, —then nothing but
cart tracks, — and counted as nothing the loss
of her fair English home, that she might aid
to plant God’s church in the wilderness. She
wrote, too, most beautiful poetry, that was ad-
mired by the great Master Cotton himself.
Whenever I have been frightened by the noise
of cannon, or have dreamt of that terrible day
last June, after the battle of Bunker Hill, and
have, perhaps, longed for my quiet home in the
little seaport town, I have said to myself, « Not
18 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

so would the Anne Bradstreet whose name I
bear have done,’ and I resolved to stay here,
come what might, thinking that perhaps if
there were something a young girl might do
for Boston, I might be the chosen vessel,
because of the name I bear!”

Both girls were silent as their thoughts
went back over the months since the people
of Boston, with set purpose, had claimed for
their town its ancient privileges, counting ease
and wealth, nay, life itself, nothing, so long as
were denied to them the rights enjoyed by
their ancestors. The spirit of liberty, that
had accompanied Winthrop and Dudley, Brad-
street and Cotton, and had been guarded and
fostered by each succeeding generation, still
flowed in their veins. “Crush Boston, and
you crush the insurrection,” said the British
wiseacres, and to that end the efforts of the
ministry had been chiefly directed. It was not
yet a war against the Colonies. It was a war
against Boston.

Last year the Boston Port Bill had gone into
operation amid the tolling of bells, the exhibi-
tion of mourning emblems, and the observance
of fasting and prayer. Nowa stranger to the
A RENEWED VOW. 19

proceedings of the British ministry, landing
on Long Wharf, might have fancied himself
stranded in that fabled city whose inhabitants
lay under the spell of some evil enchantment.
Its warehouses deserted, its streets grass-grown,
its marts closed, many of its finest houses bear-
ing the marks of pillage, there was little, in-
deed, in the present aspect of Boston to recall
the days when the three-hilled town was the
pride of New England and the commercial
centre of the Colonies. A hostile fleet sur-
rounded it without, a formidable military force
was assembled within. ‘Tents covered its fields,
cannon were planted on its eminences, and red-
coated troops daily paraded in its streets. Even
the privacy of those of the inhabitants who re-
mained was not respected, and British officers
were quartered in every available house, leaving
only attics and corners to the rightful owners.
Thus far, the measures adopted to crush
what was still, in British parlance, the ‘ insur-
rection” had not met with unalloyed success.
The “Boston saints,” as they were sneeringly
dubbed by the London journals and pamphlets,
had shown that they could fight as well as
pray; nor had the skirmish at Concord and
20 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

Lexington, and the battle of Bunker Hill,
altogether borne out the British prediction,
«’Whenever it comes to blows, he that can
run the fastest will think himself best off.”
The despised Yankees were displaying an ob-
duracy, too, in the face of a general offer of
pardon — with two notable exceptions — on the
part of his gracious Majesty, to be accounted
for only on the theory of the excited pam-
phleteer, who stated that “the demons of folly,
falsehood, madness, and rebellion, along with
their chief, the angel of darkness, had entered
into them.”

The stirring events of the spring and early
summer had culminated, last July, in a formal
Declaration of Independence, and the subse-
quent arrival of Mr. George Washington, of
Virginia, — the British refused to recognise his
military title, —to take command of the Co-
lonial forces assembled at Cambridge.

Dissatisfaction with the course of events
manifested itself in the British Cabinet. It
was thought that the commander-in-chief, Gen-
eral Gage, owing to family connections, was
too lenient to the people of Boston. It was
currently said that “‘Gage’s secrets had wings,”
A RENEWED VOW. 21

and some even hinted that it was none other
than the commander-in-chief’s lady who fur-
nished the wings. So Lord Howe was de-
spatched to take the “mild general’s’’ place.
A man of sterner mould and of more ability,
withal, the most decisive and uncompromising
-measures might now be looked for. There
had been a rumour that, with the change of
commanders, Boston would be evacuated for
more active operations elsewhere, but the re-
port was plainly contradicted by the present
proclamation.

“You and I and Bathsheba Church are the
only ‘Daughters of Liberty’ left in Boston!”
resumed Nanny, presently. “There were one
hundred and fifty of us in the beginning. Do
you remember how we were only a fortnight
behind our mothers in entering into an agree-
ment to drink no tea till the obnoxious meas-
ures were repealed. ‘Twas I, in this very
room, who urged our union. Some of our
members left Boston at the beginning of the
siege, or when their fathers and brothers joined
the army. Others found they had been over-
hasty in vowing allegiance to our cause, and
were punished by their parents for their ill
22 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

considered patriotism. Martyrs they might
have been,” sighed Nanny, “but they turned
their backs on the glorious opportunity, to-
their everlasting loss and Boston’s shame!
Soon Bathsheba Church and I will be the
only Daughters of Liberty remaining in the
town!”

“ Better say, you alone!” answered Hannah,
significantly.

«What mean you —surely Bathsheba is not
departing ?’’ queried Nanny, surprised.

“She has departed from the ranks of the
Daughters of Liberty,’ answered Hannah,
solemnly. “Like him of whom the Apostle
Paul spake, ‘Demas hath forsaken me, having
loved the present world,’ Bathsheba has turned
her back upon her vow, and is making friends
with the Mammon of unrighteousness.”

“What has she done?” cried Nanny, in
alarm. “How could the daughter of Doctor
Church do aught that could bring pain or
shame upon such a father?”

“She is going to Lord Percy’s ball,” re-
sponded Hannah.

« Are you sure, Hannah, of such a monstrous
thing?” queried Nanny, earnestly. «“Bath-
A RENEWED VOW. 23

sheba cannot have entered the ranks of the
enemy.”

«“T have but just come from Doctor Church’s
house,” answered her friend. «Bathsheba
showed me the dress she is to wear to-morrow
night. It is a citron-coloured silk, watered like
a tabby; her slippers, of the same stuff, have
very sharp toes, and the heels are of wood and
fully two inches high. She is quite in the
mode.”

“My father bade my aunt see that my ward-
robe was properly furnished with everything
necessary for a young lady when I came to
Boston,” said Nanny, thoughtfully. “I had
twelve silk gowns. Aunt Bradstreet had but
lately ordered another from my father’s London
agent, which I have never worn. It cost an
amazing sum of money, — not less, I assure you,
than a hundred pounds. It has a yellow coat,
a black bib and apron, and is richly adorned
with paste and garnet and marquesett pins. I
should not cut a sorry figure even before the
ladies of the British officers.”

“ Bathsheba’s hair is to be dressed in a lofty
roll,” Hannah went on. ‘There is great strife
amongst the ladies as to whom shall have the
24 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

hairdresser first; his services, indeed, being so
much in demand that Bathsheba was glad to
engage him for eight o’clock in the morning.”
“Nothing renders a young person more
amiable than virtue and modesty, as I have



heard it preached, without the aid of falsé
hair,” said Nanny, sternly. ‘How that roll
will make Bathsheba’s head ache and itch!”

“She was even so bold as to hint that she
might walk a minuet with Lord Percy,” added
Hannah.
A RENEWED VOW. 25

“T can dance as well as Bathsheba, being
counted, as you know, one of Mr. Turner’s best
scholars,’ returned Nanny. “’Tis said that.
Lord Percy’s manners are most courtly ; he is,
sure, a fine, handsome young man, with his blue
eyes and lordly bearing. What more heard you
of the ball, Hannah? Not that I am concerned
in the matter, but ’tis well to know the extent
of Bathsheba’s fall from grace.”

« Bathsheba hath a tongue that runs freely,
and though it might be treasonable to listen
to her tale of the gay doings to-morrow eve, I
could not choose but hear,” answered Hannah,
apologetically. With a vague feeling of having
been summoned before a court martial, she
continued, ‘«‘The ball is to take place in the
great hall that Mr. Hancock had recently added
to his mansion; a fine supper will be given,
notwithstanding the high price and scarcity of
provisions, and the grounds are to be hung with
lanterns. The whole town is agog, for the like
of the entertainment has never before been
seen here. The earl’s father, as you know,
is esteemed the richest man in England. Being
of a disposition that would not show lack of
courtesy to a lady, Lord Percy has sent invita-
26 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

tions, not only to the wives and daughters of
the British officers and of the Tories, but to
the patriot families as well. My mother cast
ours into the fire.”

«So must my aunt have done,” observed
Nanny, reflectively. “Not that I should have
gone, under any circumstances, nor would you,
Hannah, I trust.”

“No, oh, no,” answered her friend, hastily.

“T recall, now, some talk between Captain
Price and Captain Robinson, who, as you know,
are quartered at our house, concerning to-
morrow night; but we have paid little heed
to the methods by which the British officers
have sought to relieve the tedium of the siege.
Hannah,” went on Nanny with impressive dig-
nity, “ you and I must take immediate action in
this matter.”

Intense interest in the doings of the Con-
tinental Congress had given Nanny some
familiarity with parliamentary phrase, if not of
actual usage, and confidence in her own powers
bestowed glib utterance. “I move that from
this moment Bathsheba Church be no longer
considered a Daughter of Liberty. Now you
must say, ‘Second the motion.’ ”
A RENEWED VOW. 27

Her friend obediently repeated the words.

“Tt is moved and seconded that Bathsheba
Church is no longer a Daughter of Liberty.
Those who favour the motion? Those opposed ?
The ayes have it, and the motion is carried.
Now I think we’d better say our vow over
again, and make it a little different, because,”
Nanny shook her head gravely, “I feel that
soon it may mean much more to us than merely
not drinking tea, and if I am to be left all alone
in Boston, a great deal may depend upon me.”

She placed her hand on the family Bible
upon the centre-table, and repeated solemnly,
Hannah saying the words after her:

««We, the daughters of those patriots who
have appeared for the public interest, do now
engage with pleasure’ — that’s as far as we can
go in what we said before — ‘in upholding the
liberties of Boston.’ Now what did Mr. Han-
cock and Mr. Adams say last Fourth of July ?
‘For the support of this Declaration, with a
firm reliance on the protection of Divine Prov-
idence, we mutually pledge to each other our
lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honour.’ ”’
CHAPTER II.
ST. BOTOLPH.

Since she had been sent to Boston — three
years ago—to be “finished,” like many other
daughters of the best New England families,
Nanny considered that she had put away child-
ish things; nevertheless, certain influences of
her life in her quiet home on the coast of
Eastern Massachusetts’ remained with her,
and unconsciously influenced her later years.

Captain Bradstreet’s family represented the
quality of Kennebunk, in the days when the
distinction between the gentry and common
people was almost as sharply drawn as in the
mother country, and the little girl— his only
child — grew up without playmates of her own
age or tastes. But little Anne —or Nanny, as
she was generally called —was never lonely.

t Now Maine.
28
ST. BOTOLPH. 29

Her solitary life only stimulated her imagina-
tion, and fostered an inner world of imagery, in
which she was more at home than amid her
visible surroundings. The sea was always a
companion, and, looking into the distance, her
childish fancy followed her father’s vessel to
the far-off lands of which he told such wonder-
ful tales, — tales made real by the lustrous silks,
curious mattings, and rich foreign sweetmeats
that the brig Chwzan brought home to the
mansion at Kennebunk. There was no one in
all the world so dear and brave as her father,
and the time between his departure and home-
coming was counted, day by day, by the mother
and child, realised at last by the brief happiness
of those days at home, after the Chuzan had
unloaded its rich cargo on Long Wharf, and
the warehouses of Bradstreet Brothers were
filled to overflowing with the merchandise of
the East.

But nothing in all the wide world so stirred
Nanny’s imagination and appealed to her sensi-
bilities as the thought of Boston. There that
other Anne Bradstreet had lived, one hundred
and fifty years ago! The little girl’s chiefest
treasure was a quaint book that bore the in-
30 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

scription, “ Printed at London for Stephen
Bowtell, at the signe of the Bible in Popes
Head Alley, 1650.” Its title-page gave the
rich promise :

“The Tenth Muse Lately sprung up in
America, or Several Poems compiled with great
variety of Wit and Learning, full of Delight.”

Nanny was better supplied with books than
many children of her age, her good aunt in
Boston having sent to her an excellent collec-
tion of “Little Books for the Instruction and
Amusement of all good Boys and Girls.” But
after a brief glance at the titles of these vol-
umes, Nanny laid them all aside, and continued
to pore over Anne Bradstreet’s poetry. Not
that she understood it; much of it, indeed,
would have been incomprehensible to an older
head; but in the long words and stately meas-
ares, She found the delight known only to the
fantasies of childhood.

She liked to think of Anne Bradstreet, too,
in her fair English home, where the bells of
St. Botolph’s church were borne to her across
the Lincolnshire fens. Surely she, being of
such gentle, reverential mould, must have
carried in her heart worship of the good Saxon
ST. BOTOLPH. 31

saint — old Boston’s patron saint —to the new
Boston that she grew to love for the sake of
husband and children, and because that God’s
voice had called her thither.

Where Cape Porpoise extends its arm into
the sea, pointing to the beautiful islands that
lie about the entrance of Kennebunk Harbour,
there was one island more beautiful than the
rest, accessible over the flats at low tide.
Nature having made fortification on this spot
comparatively easy, it was thither that the
Cape Porpoise and Kennebunk people had fled,
in the old days of Indian warfare. No one
went there now, however, and only a few scat-
tered stones marked the lines of the former
fort. It was on the seaward side of this island
that Nanny built a little shrine out of pretty
shells and bright pebbles, and dedicated it to
St. Botolph.

There was another reason that made this
worship yet sweeter and stronger to the soli-
tary little girl Her own birthday was the
seventeenth of June, — the very day dedicated
to Boston’s patron saint. St. Botolph’s care
was her birthright, as well as hers because she
was of Boston blood. So, not only because
32 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

her name was one honoured in Boston history,
but because of this childish fantasy, she had
grown up in the belief that the fate of Boston
and her own were in some way mysteriously
linked together.

“Hear me! Help me, good St. Botolph!”
she sobbed, the day her mother died, and “Go
with me, dear St. Botolph!” she whispered
when, a few weeks later, she made her last
visit to the shrine, before setting out for her
new home in distant Boston.

She had pictured to herself with what rever-
ence the memory of the good saint would be
cherished in the town of his name. Its most
beautiful church, its finest street, would be
dedicated to him. In its fairest building would
stand his statue, and his name would be
breathed in daily, hourly prayer. Surely all
Boston was the shrine of good St. Botolph, and
on the seventeenth of June, bells were rung and
bonfires blazed and verses were written in his
honour, just as at home, on that day, she never
failed to bring fresh flowers to the shrine, and
repeat before it several pages of Anne Brad-
street’s poetry.

The disappointment came with the force of
ST. BOTOLPH. 33

a shock when she found that no spot in all the
three-hilled town was sacred to the memory of
its patron saint; his name was never spoken.
Nay, once, when she ventured some question
concerning St. Botolph, the only answer was a
reproof. “Popish practices!” that was what
her aunt had termed such worship. So, from
that day, with the intense reserve of a sensitive
child, Nanny buried the thought of her beloved
saint in her deepest heart, and never spoke of
him again. As she grew older, the intensity
of the fancy faded, to some extent, till there
were times when she even smiled to herself at
the recollection. Nevertheless, in any time of
special stress the fancy returned in all its old-
time strength, and the involuntary cry from her
inmost heart was always, “Hear me, help me,
good St. Botolph!”’

His name had been in her prayers through-
out the long hours of that never-to-be-forgotten
day last summer, when the cannon were thun-
dering across the river, and from housetops and
the summits of the three hills people watched
the combat in Charlestown. Surely on this day
of all others — his own day, the seventeenth of
June — St. Botolph would aid his people, fight-
34 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

ing in the cause of righteousness; and never
had Nanny’s faith received so terrible a shock
as when it was known throughout Boston that
the battle of Bunker Hill was lost!

That night, the girl beheld with her own
eyes something of the horrors of war. The
streets of Boston were red with blood. Till
dawn the groans of the wounded sounded from
the jolting carts in which they were borne
to the hospitals, and suffering men lay in the
streets without protection from the chill dews,
or the water for which they tmplored so
piteously.
CHAPTER III.
THE LIBERTY TREE.

As Nanny left her friend’s house, the crowd
had perceptibly increased, but it was not till
she turned from Sudbury Street into Hanover
Street and drew near the house of Doctor
Warren, — whose death at Bunker Hill all
Boston lamented, —that she viewed the in-
creasing multitude with some consternation,
and for a moment paused, hesitating whether
to advance or retreat. The light of the short
October day was waning. The tide of people,
that earlier in the afternoon had been in the
direction of North Square, for some reason had
turned, and she would now have to make her
way against the current. Almost before she
was aware she was. caught up by the body of
the crowd, and borne, irresistibly, in the oppo-
site direction from her home. For a few min-

35
36 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

utes, frightened and bewildered, she struggled
to escape, but the pressure on all sides was too
great to resist. Perceiving, presently, however,
that the crowd was of a respectable, orderly
character, apparently composed, for the most
part, of mechanics and apprentices, she recov-
ered, to some extent, from her fright, and
endeavoured to ascertain the cause of the sup-
pressed excitement with which the air was
filled, and the objective point of the throng, —
for that it had in view some definite object was
evident from the air of quiet determination
evinced in the bearing of these sturdy artisans.
In suppressed undertones, with side-glances
toward the middle of the street, where the
gleam of red coats was visible, question and
answer, exclamation and execration, passed
from one to another.

«“ They have been tearing down some houses
at the north part of the town for fire-wood,”
said one.

«Our old Louisburg soldiers laugh at the
newly erected fortifications on the Neck,”
observed another, “and say they are no more
to be regarded than a beaver dam!”

It was a rough-looking man immediately in
THE LIBERTY TREE. 37

front of Nanny who spoke the last words;
tiny spirals of wood, clinging to his coat and
breeches, gave evidence of his occupation.

“You were one of those who helped the
British build their barracks!” observed his
neighbour, whose leather apron and besmudged
hands spoke of the forge.

“Let be your jibes, Nailer Tom,” retorted the
carpenter, good-naturedly, ‘As soon as we
found the way matters were going, we left off
working for their accommodation. British gold
cannot buy Boston labour !”’

“Take heed!” remarked the blacksmith, in
a lowered tone. “’Tis no knowing, in these
days, what careless word may write one’s name
in the black list!”

“Oh, ay!’ growled his more impetuous
comrade. ‘“’Tis but, ‘You are the general’s
prisoner!’ and whip! away to the man-of-
war. As well might one live in the days of
witchcraft.”

«Tis said that the treatment of our men who
who have been made prisoners has called forth
remonstrance and threats of reprisal from Gen-
eral Washington, but without avail,’ went on
Nailer Tom. ‘John Ruck has been carried off
38 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

and put on board ship. I took him breakfast
this morning. The poor fellows have nothing
to lie down on but cables, stowed under two
decks. The cook’s galley, into which I peeped,
was the kitchen of the infernal regions. The
prisoners are given nothing to eat but worm-
eaten bread and salt beef —a cup of water to
three days’ allowance of bread! The beef was
put into a great copper kettle. The fuel was
green chestnut — impossible to make burn ; so
that, maddened with hunger, each mess seized
its meat and devoured it as it was.”

The crowd had reached the Common by this
time, when there was suddenly struck up the
strains of a lively air that had grown familiar
to Boston folk, within the past few months.

«They've fitted new words to the old tune,”
remarked the man addressed as Nailer Tom.
« They go something like this:

“¢ Father ’n’ I went down to camp,
Along 0’ Cap’n Goodin’,
And there we saw the men and boys
As thick as hasty puddin’ !’”

“Maybe they’ll hear enough of Yankee
Doodle before they’ve quit singing it,” returned
THE LIBERTY TREE. 39

the carpenter. “’Tis a merry air, and as fit to
use by one side as t’other. Methinks the Brit-
ishers might have had their fill of it the day of
Lexington fight ; ’twas the tune to which Lord
Percy marched his troops out of Boston, and
‘tis said he turned pale when he heard it, and
was in ill humour all day, because of it. Truly,
‘twas never a lucky tune for the Percys of
Northumberland. In the old days of the Bor-
der Wars, an ancestor of this same young sprig
of the English nobility marched a quickstep to
that same tune, — Chevy Chase, they called it
then, if my memory misleads me not. What
now!”

There had been a pause in the slow advance
of the crowd, and then a sudden surge forward.
As though in answer to the carpenter’s excla-
mation, a murmur, that had its apparent rise on
the edge of the throng nearest the military,
resolved into words.

“To the Liberty Tree—To the Liberty
Tree!”

For a few moments it looked as though the
massacre of the fifth of March might be re-
peated. The soldiers stood with fixed bayonets.
Their officers, with drawn swords, warned
40 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

back the crowd that was pressing from every
side upon the redcoats. Not a word was
spoken, but the silence was far more ominous
than open demonstration. But the riotous
element was either lacking or held in check
by older and graver natures, for the crowd
presently fell back, and the march was resumed.
A change had come over the humour of the
people, and, instead of the interchange of com-
ment and surmise and rough jest, was a sullen
silence, while each pressed nearer his neighbour,
as though feeling, instinctively, that the hour
had struck when the men of Boston must
stand shoulder to shoulder. No mere procla-
mation, indeed, could have voiced the uncom-
promising measures to be expected from the
new commander-in-chief as did the present
movement.

The Liberty Tree was a fine old elm, not far
from the Common, on the road to the Neck.
It was under the special and visible charge of
the Sons of Liberty, and was revered by the
people as the emblem of the popular cause —
and no less execrated by the royal governors.
When a patriotic agreement was to be entered
into, or an obnoxious office resigned, and Fan-
THE LIBERTY TREE. AI

ueil Hall would not contain the multitude, it
was here that the people flocked. - Beneath
the Liberty Tree had been passed the resolu-
tions not to permit the landing of the tea, and
here it was that the royal governor, Andros,
was impugned.

It was Simon Bradstreet, the last governor
under the charter of the Massachusetts Bay
Colony, who, at the age of four-score years and
ten, led the insurrection as a duty to God and
country. When he appeared at the Liberty
Tree, a great shout arose from the free men
there assembled. Under the leadership of the
magnificent old man, the whole town arose in
arms, with the most unanimous resolve that
ever inspired a people. Andros was arrested,
the Castle was taken, the frigate mastered, and
the fortifications occupied. Once more Massa-
chusetts assembled in General Court, and Simon
Bradstreet was called again to the chair of
state, filling it till his death.

That story was to Nanny Bradstreet family
tradition, as well as a striking page of Boston’s
history. She might well feel that she had a
personal interest in the Liberty Tree. There
was no thought, now, of turning back, even if she
42 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

could have done so. The troops wheeled into
Frog Lane, in the direction of Auchmutty Street.

It was not many years ago that belief in
witchcraft was current in Boston; more than
one old woman, cried out upon for malign prac-
tices, had been hanged upon the Common.
Something of old-time superstition may have
lingered in the minds of Boston boys and girls,
for there was a current belief amongst them
that the genius of the Liberty Tree had the elm
under his special protection.

The first blow of the axe rang through the
silence. Still Nanny waited, vaguely expect-
ant, childish faith in the impossibility of the
dreadful mingling with conviction that the
genius of the tree would protect his abode.
The quick successive blows of the axe mingled
with the voices of the soldiers and Tories in
tibald song:

“ As for their King, John Hancock,
And Adams, if they’re taken,

Their heads for signs shall hang up high,
Upon the hill called Beacon!”

Something had happened! There was a sud-
den backward movement of. the crowd, a heavy
weight trod on Nanny’s foot, that, crushed
THE LIBERTY TREE, 43

against a stone, slipped, twisting her ankle.
Sick and weak with pain, the girl was jostled
unresistingly from side to side, till all at once
she found herself, like a bit of jetsam thrown
up by the sea, tossed out of the surging throng.
She tottered, and would have fallen headlong,
but some one caught her by the arm.

«What happened ?”’ she asked, faintly.

« A soldier fell from the tree and was killed,”
was the answer, out of the darkness.

Fright at this dreadful realisation of her
vague anticipations, and the sudden thought of
her position, alone at that hour, and at such a
distance from home, resulted in the cry:

‘““Oh, take me home!”

“With pleasure, madam,” responded the
boyish voice by her side.

“T—TI crave your pardon,” said Nanny,
faintly, dismay at her own boldness following
swift upon her words. “I was caught up by
the crowd and carried thither, despite myself,”
she added, more collectedly. “I think, how-
ever, I need not ask your escort.”

«Will you not permit me to accompany you,
madam?” urged her companion, and something
in the tones of his voice gave confidence.
44 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“J live. on Garden Court Street,’ she
answered, doubtfully.

“My own road lies in the same direction, in
North Square,” was the rejoinder, and, without
more ado, Nanny signified her acceptance of
the stranger’s proffer. “If you will take my
hand, we could run through Newbury Street,
and so, I think, out-distance the crowd — it
has begun to disperse,’ suggested her com-
panion.

But Nanny’s ankle pained her, and, despite
her utmost endeavours and her escort’s aid, it
was impossible to make rapid progress. New-
bury Street, too, was in darkness, for though
Boston had been provided with street-lamps
only the year before, most of them had been
destroyed during the siege.

Meantime, the girl’s thoughts were busy
concerning the identity of her companion. His
language and manners were unquestionably
those of a gentleman. He was not a British
officer, — even in the faint light his scarlet
uniform would have been visible, — yet she
could recall no one in North Square, all of
whose residents were well known to her, to
whose name he might answer.
THE LIBERTY TREE. 45

In fact, to the best of her recollection, the
only person of quality now remaining in that
part of the city was General Timothy Ruggles,
aman of middle age and violent temper. He
had an ill reputation amongst the patriots as a
virulent Tory, having, indeed, been placed in
command of the three companies of “ Loyal
American Associators,’’ —as they chose to call
themselves, — into which the people of Boston
of Tory sympathies had recently been banded,
whose object was to assist the British, if neces-
sary, ‘in the defence of the place.”

«They are catching up with us,” said the
voice by her side. “Come through West Street
to the Common.”

They regained the more travelled thorough-
fare.

In the fierce wind that was tearing, as usual,
over the Common and the Charles River
marshes beyond, the light on the corner, that
had escaped the demolition of the soldiery,
flickered and nearly went out. As it flared up
again, for the first time Nanny saw plainly the
face and figure of her companion. He was
dressed in a bluish silk camblet jacket, a fine
white ruffled shirt, cloth breeches, and worsted
40 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

stockings ; heavy shoes, with metal buckles, and
a round white linen cap completed his costume.
The girl gave a little involuntary cry of sur-
prise, for the dress was that worn by the
indentured servants in Boston families of
quality, — a position scarcely superior to that
of slave. The next instant, she saw about his
left arm the white silk sash that was the badge
of the “ Associators.” She snatched her hand
from his.

“T want not the aid of the enemy of his
country!’ she cried, passionately. “Know
you what General Washington has termed those
men who are false to all the traditions of their
birthplace, who would raise their hand against
their brother, who would help their common
enemy destroy Boston? ‘Execrable parri-
cides

As she turned to hasten from the spot,
momentarily forgetful of pain in a flood of indig-
nation, two men approached, whom she recog-
nised as her neighbours of the previous hour.
In the uncertain light, she could not be sure of
the quick look of intelligence that, for a moment,
she fancied passed between the man addressed
as Nailer Tom and her late companion.

ee
CHAPTER IV.
THE INCORRUPTIBLE THIRTY.

As Nanny entered the house, breathless
with haste, Mrs. Bradstreet came swiftly for-
ward. The explanation of her prolonged ab-
sence died away on the girl’s lips as she noted
her aunt’s pallor and the evident concern of her
manner.

“Your uncle has been arrested,” she said,
quietly.

“Arrested! Oh, aunt, will they — will
they —” :

The dreadful pictures that the word conjured
up, held her further utterance. Since the gates
of Boston were closed last June, and military
rule replaced civil government, arrests and
floggings and summary executions had become
unhappily familiar to the inhabitants. With the
arrival of General Howe, there were indications
of a veritable Reign of Terror, when suspicion

47
48 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

did not await confirmation, and accusation and
arrest were one, followed by trial and summary
sentence, before a military tribunal.

After her first involuntary exclamation of sur-
prise and fright, Nanny was able to listen calmly
to her aunt’s account of the afternoon’s occur-
rence. A squad of redcoats had appeared, at
dusk, before the house. Entering without
ceremony, the officer in command, demanding
the master of the house, spoke the dreaded
words:

“ You are the general’s prisoner !”’

Leaving Mr. Bradstreet under guard in the
dining-room, the captain addressed the mistress
of the mansion.

“Information has been lodged at headquar-
ters concerning a certain treasonable document
known to be received by you,” he said. « Pro-
duce it, and his lordship will endeavour to show
as much leniency as the circumstances of the
case will permit. Refuse, and the prisoner will
be instantly committed to the man-of-war under
the usual regulations.”

“JT give you my word, gentlemen, there is no
treasonable document concealed in this house,”
answered Mrs. Bradstreet, firmly.
THE INCORRUPTIBLE THIRTY. 49

“Reflect, madam,’’ repeated the officer,
sternly.

“My orders were positive. His lordship
believes that there has been a deal of negli-
gence in such matters of late and may deem
a summary example necessary. I regret to in-
form you that, in case of your refusal to
produce the required papers, I was ordered to
institute a search over the house,” he added, as
Mrs. Bradstreet’s silence remained unbroken.

Devastation followed the execution of the
threat. In the drawing-room, the fine red
damask furniture was cut and slashed by the
bayonets of the soldiers; fine family portraits

“were wrenched from their frames, the beautiful
carved wainscoting was stripped from the walls
and the chimneypieces ruthlessly torn away.
Above, feather beds had been cut open and
emptied ; in some rooms, even the flooring was
ripped up. Nothing, however, of a treasonable
nature was discovered. Then, after a hasty
farewell to her husband, spoken in the presence
of the officer, Mrs. Bradstreet was left alone
amid the ruins of her once beautiful home.
Alarm at Nanny’s prolonged absence was soon
added to concern for her husband’s safety, but
50 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

with the girl’s return she began calmly to
review the situation.

“His meals must be sent to him regularly,
and such provision made for his comfort as the

CE

AS



regulations permit. ‘Tis said that the clothing
of the prisoners is stolen from them by their
jailers.” Then Mrs. Bradstreet drew Nanny
into the small apartment back of the dining-
room, that had been, formerly, the master’s
THE INCORRUPTIBLE THIRTY. 51

study, or business office, but which, since the
British officers had been quartered in the house,
had been allowed by them to be retained by
Mrs. Bradstreet as her sitting-room.

“Was there a letter?’’ queried Nanny, ea-
gerly, girlish curiosity overcoming for the
moment her deeper feelings.

Mrs. Bradstreet held up a warning finger.
She looked carefully about the hall before she
closed the door, and answered, in a hushed
tone:

“ Yes, instantly destroyed, thank God! Child,
can I trust you?” she added, after a few mo-
ments of deep thought.

Nanny had matured rapidly within the past
few months. The stirring events of the times,
the fact that she lived beneath the roof of one
of the leading men of the day, had added to a
naturally fine intelligence and quick discern-
ment a judgment and self-control that were
beyond her years. So, to this first real demand
upon her strength, she could make answer with
an earnestness that bore witness to its truth.

ceVieS haa

«The weakness of our army at Cambridge is
scarcely known beyond headquarters and by a
52 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

few trusty friends,’ began Mrs. Bradstreet.
« There is some dissatisfaction amongst those
who do not know the real condition of affairs,
because of what they term General Washing-
ton’s dilatoriness. Lack of powder is not the
only reason of deferred hostilities. A disease
has recently broken out in the provincial camp,
caused, it is said, by the incessant work in the
trenches, combined with the mild weather.
There is but one remedy for the terrible shaking
fever,’ the bark of a certain tree that grows in
South America. The knowledge of this med-
icament was imparted by their converts to the
priests of the early missions and is from them
generally known as Jesuits’ bark.

“The letter was in cipher and from your
father,” went on Mrs. Bradstreet. «The brig
Chuzan has captured a British trading-vessel
from Brazil, laden with sugar and molasses and
twenty barrels of Jesuits’ bark. In the en-
counter your father was wounded in the leg and
is now at his home in Kennebunk, while the
_ Chuzan, under command of the lieutenant, is on
another cruise. The Jesuits’ bark is concealed

* Now generally known as malaria.
THE INCORRUPTIBLE THIRTY. 53

under the pulpit of the meeting-house in the
port. He desired to acquaint your uncle with
his condition, and regrets that his prize was not
the hoped-for military stores, unknowing that
at this juncture the medicament is of infinitely
more value than guns or ammunition.

“Your uncle has long known that he was
under suspicion, and gave me implicit direc-
tioris, in case of his arrest, to communicate with
Doctor Church, and to be, in all cases, guided by
him. He, at least, notwithstanding his open
connection with the patriot party, will remain
unmolested. I must take him these tidings
without delay.”

“Tet me go,” begged Nanny. “Your ab-
sence might be noticed by the officers.”

Mrs. Bradstreet paused, and sighed.

“TI must care for myself, for my husband’s
sake, and because I may yet be able to render
some service to our cause,” she acquiesced.
“You do not fear to’go alone?”’

Nanny, who had already drawn on her cape
and hood, gave assurance to the contrary. She
was soon at Doctor Church’s door, and, on
making known her name to the sentry, was
promptly ushered into the physician’s study. |
54 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

Doctor Benjamin Church was a fine-looking
man, in the prime of life. Bred a physician, he
had also achieved an enviable reputation as a
poet and a polished speaker. As a leader of
the provincial cause in Boston, he ranked with
Mr. Hancock and Mr. Adams. On his return
to the town, after the battle of Lexington, he
was promptly arrested; but his reputation as
surgeon and physician was so high, and there
was such need of skilled service, that he was
shortly after released on parole. Since then,
though under strict military surveillance, he
had rendered his services alike to British, Tory,
and patriot, and was held in equal regard by
all.

Nanny’s story was soon told.

«You bring news of rare moment, my child,”
said the doctor, after a few minutes’ reflection.
“ These tidings must be kept from every person
on earth,” he added, earnestly. “Chance and
the exigencies of the times have put you
into the possession of a secret upon which the
fate of the provincial cause may depend. Can
we rely on your discretion ?”

Proud of being in the confidence of her
elders, of being addressed almost as an equal
THE INCORRUPTIBLE THIRTY. 55

by the revered Doctor Church, Nanny gave the
required assurance.

“You have done your part, and may leave
the rest in safe hands. Convey my profound
respects to Mrs. Bradstreet, and my deepest



sympathy under her affliction,’ went on the
grave, silvery tones that never failed to inspire

confidence. ‘I regret that I may not offer you
an escort. My servant has left me, and I have
an urgent call elsewhere — You are hurt, my

child?” he asked, sympathetically, as Nanny
limped toward the door.
56 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

The girl explained her mishap.

“Let me see.’ The firm, gentle fingers.
pressed the injured ankle. “Does it hurt —
here—is this the place? I think it is not
a sprain, but you have probably wrenched
a muscle, and would best remain on your
couch for a few days,” pronounced the doctor,
kindly.

As Nanny reached her own door, there passed
her the two men she had observed in the crowd
that afternoon.

At no great distance from Garden Court
Street stood a two-story brick building with a
pitched roof, the greater elevation being in the
rear. Over the entrance projected an iron rod,
upon which crouched the copper dragon which
was the tavern’s sign. In an upper room of
this building were assembled some score of
men, whose spare faces and close-lipped mouths
were of the type of the New England mechanic.
The furniture of the apartment consisted merely
of a table, upon which lay a Bible, and a
couple of rude benches. An occasional knock
at the door was challenged by a sentinel, and
the required countersign being given, the new-
comer was admitted; advancing to the table he
THE INCORRUPTIBLE THIRTY. 57

placed a hand upon the Holy Book, and took a
solemn oath of secrecy. After this brief cere-
mony, the low-voiced talk amongst the various
groups ceased, and a few questions were ad-
dressed the arrival.

‘What news of Paul Revere?” was asked
one of these later comers, a brass-founder by
trade.

“None, since he bore Mr. Hancock’s mes-
sage from Philadelphia to Cambridge, — ‘Burn
Boston if need be, and leave John Hancock a
beggar!’” was the answer.

“Truly, the patriot cause would lose its most
trustworthy courier, should Paul Revere be the
target of a British bullet,’ added the first
speaker.

«The state of affairs in the provincial camp
is said to be terribly alarming,” went on the
brass-founder. “The supply of powder is still
short, and the New Hampshire regiments,
whose term of enlistment has expired, are
breaking camp and making for home in a body,
taking their muskets with them.”

“Ts their patriotism so soon cooled? Was the
‘bloodshed at Lexington and Bunker Hill in
vain?” said his friend, sadly.
58 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“’Tis even hinted that there is some dis-
affection amongst our men toward General
Washington,” resumed the other. “ His Ex-
cellency, being a Virginian and an aristocrat
by birth, is thought by some to be of haughty,
overbearing ways, treating the free men of
New England as though they were the slaves
upon his princely plantation on the Potomac.
Be that as it may, it remains a mystery why he
should delay an attack on Boston till the British
render their fortifications impregnable.”

“’Tis like the Kilkenny cats,” suggested the
older man, a cooper by trade. “ Either grimal-
kin watches the other with round eyes and
sharpened claws, but is afeared to stir lest the
other jump upon him. Methinks the one that
makes the first jump stands the better chance
of scratching the other’s eyes out. Here comes
Nailer Tom. Perchance he brings news!”

The two men —the blacksmith and the car-
penter — who had just entered, had served on
the first watch, it being one of the duties of
this little band of patriotic men — who called
themselves “The Incorruptible Thirty ” — to
patrol the streets, two by two, at night, that no
movement of the British might be lost. The
THE INCORRUPTIBLE THIRTY. 59

return of the first watch, at midnight, was
generally the signal for the breaking up of the
meeting, but on the present occasion, though
the men reported that nothing was stirring, and
the lights in the Province House were out,
their arrival but served as a fillip to further
discussion of the events of the afternoon and
of the inevitable suffering that would accompany
the prolonged siege.

“Matters were like to have gone hard with
my missus a month agone, for the want of good,
nourishing food,” said the blacksmith. «“ Horse
flesh she never could stomach, and with fresh
meat at fifteen pence a pound, and scarce to be
had at that, who should appear but Doctor
Church — God bless him! — with a prime leg
of mutton!”

«“ Not a penny would he take for attending
my girl Phoebe when she was sick with the
pox,’ added the brass-founder. “‘If we get
out of this trouble with our necks,’ said he,
‘we'll talk of that; but I make no charges
while the British flag flies over the Province
House!’”

«’Tis said that Doctor Warren had no great

,

love for him,” suggested the shipwright.
60 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“Tut, tut, man, meddle not with the affairs
of your betters!” returned Nailer Tom. “ What
cause they may have had for their mutual mis-
liking, I know not ; but it’s scarce the first time
that doctors have disagreed —ay, and called
each other hard names — and neither been the
worse man for it! The day after the battle of
Lexington,” continued the blacksmith, “ Paul
Revere met Doctor Church in Cambridge, —
this I had from Revere’s own lips, — when the
doctor showed him some blood on his stockings,
which he said spurted on him from a man who
was killed near him, as he was urging the
militia on. If a man will risk his life in a
cause, he must be a friend to that cause,” con-
cluded Nailer Tom, with the manner of one
who clinches an argument. “It is close on
two of the clock; we were best departing.
There will be no further news to-night.”

As though in contradiction of his last words,
the signal sounded again. Question and coun-
tersign were exchanged, and the door was
opened to admit a boy of some ‘sixteen or
seventeen years; a light silk jacket was his
only protection from the keen night wind, and
his stockings were cut and blood-stained. There
THE INCORRUPTIBLE THIRTY. 61

was a general exclamation of surprise and dis-
may, and each man started forward with a
threatening face.

«“ What's this — who’s given him the counter-
sign? There’s a traitor amongst us!”

«Nay, nay, have a care! Let go the boy.
He is all right,’ said the blacksmith. “He
was well known to Doctor Warren and Paul
Revere. What brings you here, lad, at this
hour?” he queried, as the boy, who had been
struggling lustily against his assailants, leaned,
panting, against the door.

«The oath, the oath!” was the cry. Nailer
Tom and the newcomer stood face to face, the
others closed in a ring about them, with each
man’s hands upon his neighbour’s shoulder.

«“ You'll not believe what I’ve come to tell
you,” said the boy; “but as sure as I stand
here with my hand on the Book, it is the
truth!”

“Go ahead, lad, we’re all friends here,” said
the blacksmith, as the newcomer looked from
one to another of the circle of faces, as though
seeking one to which he might particularly
address himself.

He began slowly with the evident desire to
62 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

make his tale so circumspect as to force con-
viction, yet was hurried on, the while, in spite
of himself, out of intense excitement.

“I brought my master his glass of flip at ten
o’clock, as usual, and went to my room. It is
in the gable end of the house, commanding a
view of the study window. I sat at my window,
waiting till the light below should have gone
out, —for my master, General Ruggles, not in-
frequently has late visitors. Ii was toward mid-
night when I saw a figure approaching the house,
wrapped in a military cloak that was drawn up
over his face, and with his hat pulled over his
eyes. Hewas at once admitted. I raised my
window, dropped to the ground, and crept
around to the study. The curtain hung a little
awry, so that I could see into the room quite
distinctly, though I could hear nothing. What-
ever tidings the visitor brought, they were
evidently of consequence, for General Ruggles’s
face lit up with unmistakable triumph. Pres-
ently he went to his secretary, and from a
secret drawer took out a canvas bag and
handed it to his visitor. The latter. untied it,
and poured out some of the contents; they
were new British guineas. As he did so, his
THE INCORRUPTIBLE THIRTY. 63

cloak fell back and I saw his face as plainly as
I see any of yours this moment!”

“Who was it?” came in a chorus from
about the table.

«JT —oh, I cannot tell you who it was I saw
take British gold, at midnight, from the man
who hates Boston!”

“Out with it, lad!” and the blacksmith laid
a heavy hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“It was Doctor Church!”
CHAPTER V.
THE BOUND BOY.

«No, no, lad, that couldn’t have been. I’ve
oft enough had the nightmare so real that,
though my eyes were wide open and staring,
my missus couldn’t make me believe, for a good
spell, that there wasn’t a redcoat in the room.
Doctor Church turn traitor!” laughed the black-
smith. ‘To-morrow we shall hear that John
Hancock and old Sam Adams are turncoats.”’

“1 was not dreaming,” cried the lad, earnestly.
«’Twas but for a second that I looked on his
face, but I saw it as plainly as I see yours.”

“Have a care, lad!” The heavy hand on
the boy’s shoulder increased its pressure till it
held him as ina vise. “You are a stranger in

our town, or you would know better than to

cast so foul a slander on a good man and true.”

“T’ll hear naught against the man who saved

my Phoebe’s life,” said the brass-founder, and a
64
THE BOUND BOY. 65

general murmur of approval followed the
words.

“But the hour —the evident secrecy,” cried
the boy, vehemently, as he saw that incredulity
was becoming mixed with resentment on the
hard, shrewd faces about him. ‘’Tis true that
I am a stranger amongst you, but do not let
that circumstance, at such a moment, tell against
me. Let the facts speak for themselves. There
is mischief afoot! This is not the first time, as
Nailer Tom is aware, that I have given you
timely warning! Tell them who I am, and what
you know of me,” added the boy, turning to the
blacksmith. His tone was less of entreaty than
of command.

“Revere bade me keep his connection with
our cause a profound secret, even from Doctor
Church,” hesitated Nailer Tom. “He added
that such had been his own instructions from
Doctor Warren, to whom the lad had confided.
I have obeyed Revere to the letter, but now,
when you are witnesses of the boy’s knowledge
of our affairs, and he himself bids me speak,
sure there can be no harm in telling what I
know of him before you all.

“He is called Anthony Severn, and is bound
66 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

boy to General Ruggles. °*Twas on the eve of
April nineteenth last that I first saw him, when
he helped me row Revere across to the Charles-
town shore. ’Iwas he who had brought to
Doctor Warren the information of the intended
British excursion on the morrow. They did
General Gage’s lady injustice who said ’twas
she furnished the wings which the late com-
mander-in-chief’s secrets seemed to have. Gen-
eral Ruggles is in the councils of the Province
House, and his trusted servant knows well how
to use his eyes and ears.

“Revere further told me that Anthony had
our password and would communicate with us
in case of need. Since then, though I have
sometimes seen the lad about the town, I have
exchanged no word with him until this hour.”

“ He is playing a dangerous part,’’ commented
the carpenter, gravely. “General Ruggles’s
temper is none of the best, and should he but
suspect his serving-boy of being a spy, a rope
and the nearest lamp-post would be his end.”

“From having been so short a time in the
town — less than a twelvemonth, is’t not, An-
thony ?—he is not suspected of being inocu-
lated with the pestilential doctrines that are
THE BOUND Boy. 67

thought to rage, by nature, in Boston blood.
We doubt not your good faith,’’ went on the
blacksmith, turning to the boy, “but ’tis easy
for young eyes to make a mountain out of a
mole-hill. A single peep at a man whose face,
by your own showing, was half covered, is scarce
enough to prove his identity.”

“T saw his hand, too. Who could mistake a
doctor’s hand?” urged the boy.

“One gentleman’s hand does not differ greatly
from another's,” asserted the blacksmith, dog-
matically. “Should a dozen gentlemen stick
their soft white paws through yon door, think
you that you could pick out the fingers and
thumb that belong toa doctor?” The others
joined in the contemptuous laugh with which
Nailer Tom answered his own query.

« But the gold — there was no less than three
hundred guineas in that bag! What could the
payment of such a sum mean if not the reward
of some weighty service?” returned the boy,
evidently struggling to keep patience with his
obstinate listeners.

«Tut, tut, you didn’t count it, did you?”
said the blacksmith, as though chiding a
froward child.
68 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“ How could I count it?” answered the boy,
impatiently. “’Twas not difficult to guess at
the amount, from the size of the bag.”

«Wait a bit! ‘Guess’ is not a word that
hangs a man, in these parts,” observed the
blacksmith. “Supposing, at a pinch, it was
the doctor, what then?” he went on, judicially.
“Doctor Church and General Ruggles, though
now standing, one and t’other, for the leader of
the patriots and of the Tories, have preserved
their friendship unbroken. To a doctor, mid-
night is much the same as noon, and returning
from an evening call, what more natural, seeing
the light in the study window, than that Doctor
Church should have dropped in for a glass of
your good flip and a friendly chat ?”’

It was one pitted against many, a boy en-
deavouring to hold his ground against grown
men. Looking from one immobile face to
another, General Ruggles’s bound boy realised
his inability to carry conviction to these simple-
minded men. Their loyalty unto death might
be relied upon, but when they found themselves
face to face with a situation for which experi-
ence furnished no precedent, their brains were
incapable of receiving a fresh impression.
THE BOUND BOY. 69

Then it was that these honest craftsmen
needed the keen vision, the quick, adaptive
mind of their absent leader, Paul Revere.

“There was blood on his stocking after the
battle of Lexington. If a man will risk his life
for a cause, he must be a friend to that cause,”
repeated the blacksmith, decisively.

“It’s a cock-and-bull story, lad. Let’s hear
no more of it !” added the brass-founder, sternly,
and the words evidently voiced the opinion of
all.

Heretofore the boy had measured his words,
had sought to hold in check his impatience.
But now, when he was disbelieved, scoffed at,
chidden for overimpetuosity and even reckless
slander, there blazed forth the resentment of
an imperious nature at finding its yea or nay
disputed.

“If you don’t believe me,” he cried, “so
much the worse for you! I say Doctor Ben-
jamin Church is a traitor, and [ll prove it!”

“Ay, do. Ask General Ruggles for his visi-
tor’s name and business,” responded the black-
smith, with clumsy irony. ‘“ Going?”

“I must be back before ['m missed. My
master will rise betimes this morning, for I
7O A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

lose my guess if he do not pay his early re-
spects at the Province House,” added the boy,
significantly.

After his departure, disapproving comment
was unrestrained.

« Well, well, a young cockerel crows loud, and
perhaps, from being trusted by his betters, the
boy has come to think himself lord of the
barn-yard,” said Nailer Tom, good-naturedly.

«A lad of parts he may be, but a modest
air would better become his humble station,”
growled the brass-founder. “He could scarce
demean himself with more high and mighty
airs if, instead of a bound boy, the blood of all
the Percys swelled in his veins.”

“He bears a most noteworthy resemblance,
both in form and feature, to Lord Percy —
didst notice ?” remarked the shipwright. “ His
lordship may be a dozen years or so the boy’s
elder; nevertheless, put on this young Anthony
a fine Ramillies wig and cocked hat, give him
my lord’s scarlet and gold uniform and jewelled
sword, and I warrant me the bound boy could
march through the town at the head of his
splendid ‘Shiners,’ with the eyes of all the
maids and matrons in Boston following him,
THE BOUND BOY. 71

and none guess that he were not the son
and heir of the great Duke of Northumber-
land!”

«That may well be,” said the blacksmith,
significantly. “If what Revere was told be
true, the boy has some right to demean him-
self as the equal of the duke’s son. He was
brought up, so ran the tale, upon the estate
of a certain nobleman, in his time one of the
gayest young macaronis in London. After-
ward the boy was placed at Christ Hospital,
and when, later, General Ruggles sent through
his London agents for a youth to be indentured
to him for the term of seven years, his Grace
took heed that due inquiries should be made
concerning the general’s worth and substance,
and would have it in the agreement that, should
the boy behave well, his master would advance
him in the world, for which understanding a
handsome sum was paid. ‘Tis the lad’s interest
to stand well with General Ruggles, and this,
no doubt, makes his master the more certain of
his faithfulness. Yet it can scarce be a pleas-
ant sight for the nameless bound boy to see
Earl Percy the idol of the town, and he be
deemed fit for nothing better than to hold a
72 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

torch outside his lordship’s door, when he knows
full well that, had he his rights, he could call
not only my Lord Percy of Northumberland, but
his Majesty, King George the Third, cousin !”

The early light was gilding the vane of the
‘golden Indian on the Province House when the
second patrol was admitted to the upper room
of the Green Dragon. The two men were in a
state of evident excitement.

«There has been the most scandalous, dis-
honourable, shilly-shally conduct that can be
conceived of!” cried one. “The proclamation
of yesterday has been recalled and no one is to
be allowed to leave the town. The lines on
the Neck have been doubled and the ferry-
boat is drawn up alongside the man-of-war.
The interdict particularly forbids the departure
of women and children.”

Tears of baffled purpose, and yet more, of
anger, were in the eyes of General Ruggles’s
bound boy as, unheeding the pain from his
bruised and cut feet, he hurried through Green
Dragon Lane and darted along the various
“short cuts’’ for which Boston was notable.
The conviction of some awful impending dan-
ger, the nature of which he could not even con-
THE BOUND BOY. 73

jecture, goaded him nearly to madness with an
impotent sense of responsibility. At any rate,
he would seek no counsel nor aid again from
those dolts of workingmen. But as he ran
along, his hot-headed anger began to cool, and
natural good sense suggested that perhaps, after
all, it was scarcely to be expected that his un-
supported statement, his a nameless nobody’s,
— involuntarily his handsome head was thrown
back, his hand clenched itself at the thought, —
should be believed in a monstrous accusation
against Doctor Church, a man endeared to these
people by a long record of oft unrequited kind-
ness.

Who, in all Boston, was there for him to con-
sult? True, he might make his way to General
Washington and tell his tale. But had he any-
thing of real substance to communicate? He
recognised the weakness of his position more
clearly now, since he had failed to convince the
“TIncorruptible Thirty ” that his story was any-
thing more than a dream. Stay! there was one
man in Boston to whom he might appeal, one
whose mere name was a sufficient guarantee of
his loyalty. At whatever peril to himself, this
very night he would seek Mr. Bradstreet.
74 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

As he had surmised, General Ruggles re-
paired at an early hour, that morning, to the
Province House, but of the nature of the ensu-
ing interview with Lord Howe, Anthony could
gather no hint. It may have been the result of
an excited imagination that, throughout the day,
his master seemed unusually irascible, while
at times he appeared deeply buried in thought.

That night he brushed the Tory general’s
best uniform, and burnished his sword in readi-
ness for Lord Percy’s ball. The festivity began
at an early hour, but cards and drinking would
undoubtedly keep the gentlemen at the Hancock
House till long after midnight. So, after re-
ceiving instructions to present himself, in due
season, to attend his master home, Anthony’s
time was his own for some hours to come. He
was reasonably sure that the officers quartered
at Mr. Bradstreet’s would be at the ball, and
that the soldiers detailed as their servants would
have been given their liberty. Deeming it
wiser, also, to avoid the appearance of stealth,
he went boldly to the front entrance of the
mansion on Garden Court Street. The door was
opened by Mrs. Bradstreet herself, for servants
were difficult to obtain in these troubled times.
THE BOUND BOY. 75

“Let me in, quick!’ whispered the boy.
“ Here I may be seen and I have news of im-
portance to communicate.”

Instantly Mrs. Bradstreet blew out the candle
she carried and, motioning the visitor inside the
house, closed and bolted the door. Taking him
by the hand, she led the way to a small room in
the rear of the house. Then she relit the can-
dle and, holding it high above her head, scruti-
nised her visitor sharply.

«Who are you, and what is your errand?”
she demanded.

“What I have to say deeply concerns Mr.
Bradstreet,” answered the boy, earnestly. “Say
to him, I entreat you, that one whom Doctor
Warren honoured with his trust would speak to
him.”

«Mr. Bradstreet was arrested yesterday after-
noon,” returned the mistress of the house.

“Mr. Bradstreet arrested!” exclaimed the
boy, in dismay. “It is allof a piece, some plot
is surely hatching!”

«What you would have said to Mr. Brad-
street, you may safely say to me,” said the
patriot’s wife.

The heavy sorrow that had befallen her, yes-
76 ' A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

terday, must be set aside. To-morrow she
might have to mourn her husband’s departure
for Halifax, perchance for England, with scant
hope of ever seeing him again. To-day she
must stand in his place, and the call found her
instant to respond.

There was no mistaking the look and tone,
and without hesitation or reserve the boy re-
sponded. This time his listener was a woman,
with wits sharpened to almost -preternatural
keenness by personal wrongs. By the look that
flashed upon her face at the first mention of
“Doctor Church’s name, the boy felt, with a
throb of relief and triumph, that his story had
carried conviction.

“Tt was Doctor Church who caused my hus-
band’s arrest!” she said, calmly. “I see it all
now. He has long been on friendly terms with
the officers quartered here, and when Mr. Brad-
street remonstrated with him on this intimacy,
replied that he encouraged the friendship be-
cause he could thus keep informed of the
enemy’s plans. Perhaps by putting our stories
together, we may find that the halves fit to a
nicety,” she added, with the smile seen on a
woman’s face when intensity of feeling and
THE BOUND BOY. VE

purpose has, for the time, shut out everything
but the task before her. ‘Yesterday after-
noon,” she went on, “a letter was brought to
us from my husband’s brother, Captain Simon
Bradstreet, of Kennebunk. His messenger was
a trusty neighbour belonging to one of the new
regiments now being mustered in. It would
have been well-nigh impossible for the man to
gain entrance into the town, so he gave the
letter to a kinsman, living in the adjacent coun-
try, who was about to set out for Boston with a
load of wood. The need of fire-wood is so great
that, after rigorous search by the guards on the
Neck, the countryman was permitted to pass.
He delivered the letter, which had been con-
cealed between the soles of his boot.”

Briefly, Mrs. Bradstreet told the contents of
the missive,and the terrible new need of the army.

«What followed,” she continued, “I can only
conjecture. Doctor Church, learning from Cap-
tain Price or his brother officer of the man’s
visit here, probably sought him out, and drew
from him without difficulty the fact of the
letter. Of its contents the messenger was
ignorant. How smoothly he has covered his
villainy! Only to-day he called to express his
78 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

sympathy at my husband’s arrest, and, when I
asked the meaning of this last proclamation
of Lord Howe’s, had his answer ready to the
effect that women and children were to be kept
in Boston as a measure of safety, it being
feared that, with their removal, General Wash-
ington would no longer hesitate to bombard
the town. Fool that I was to acquaint him
with the contents of the letter! Yet it may not
be too late! So, it is to be a war against women
and children? Well, Doctor Church, since we
are to be treated as combatants, perchance we
shall be found worthy of recognition!”

There was a look in Mrs. Bradstreet’s eyes that
told the old tale of how dangerous the female
animal becomes when aroused in the defence of
her loved ones.

«Whatever is done must be done this very
night —at once,” she went on. ‘The oppor-
tunity will scarce repeat itself. The Hancock
House is at the other end of the town ; discipline
will be lax, and the soldiers gathered at the tav-
erns. A messenger must be found who will take
the word to Captain Bradstreet to despatch the
Jesuits’ bark to Cambridge without delay. But
whom to send! No, no; not you. You must
THE BOUND BOY. 79

remain and find out the enemy’s next move.
They are not like to be idle, but their difficulty
of finding a trustworthy messenger is as great
— perchance greater than ours!”’

« Aunt, let me go!”

It was a girl’s voice. Unobserved, Nanny
had slipped into the room and been a listener
to her aunt’s last words.

“You—no, child, it is not to be thought
!” returned Mrs. Bradstreet.

“Tf I should be missed, if the officers ques-
tion my absence, it is by Doctor Church’s
directions that I am keeping to my couch,”
urged the girl, her clear, dark eyes full of
earnestness, the sweet, sensitive mouth trem-
ulous with feeling. ‘Besides, if I am met on
the road and questioned,” she went on, “I am
going to my wounded father. Throughout
New England the name of Simon Bradstreet
is a password,” she added, proudly.

“But your foot?” Mrs. Bradstreet was evi-
dently thinking rapidly.

«Tis not so painful, at present, that I cannot
walk,” answered Nanny, smiling. “If I am lame,
for a little, after the errand is done, sure, ’tis no
matter to cry over.”

of
80 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“Once beyond the British lines, the country
is patriotic, but the road from here to Kenne-
bunk is long, the stage-coach betwixt here and
Portsmouth has stopped running, and you may
meet with unexpected difficulties. You must
not fail! Whatever chance, the message must
be taken to your father. Think well, Anne!”
the childish name unconsciously giving place to
that of maturity.

_ “T will not fail,” answered the girl, stead-
fastly.

“How to get through the lines! It were
impossible to procure a pass after this new
proclamation —”

“T have a plan,” broke in the boy, eagerly.
“That night, last April, when I helped row
Revere across the river, I took the canoe back
to its old hiding-place beneath Ruck’s Wharf.
There I am confident I shall still find it. By
keeping the channel between Charlestown and
Noddle Island, I can pass unseen the Somerset
and the British batteries on Bunker’s Hill, and
skirting along Hog Island, paddle up the creek -
at Chelsea, beyond the British outposts.”’

«Thence you will soon strike the Salem turn-
went on Mrs. Bradstreet, in rapid direc-

”

pike,
THE BOUND BOY. 8I

tion. “A walk of five or six miles takes you
to the tavern at Saugus. Landlord Newhall
will farther you to Portsmouth; beyond, you
must use your own discretion. Now that the
British know our secret, it is a fight against
time between us, and the delay even of sec-
onds might be fatal. Get ready instantly. I
will fetch you a flask of brandy. Only mind,
do not touch it except in extremity. You
would best not leave the house together. Go
from the front door, and await your companion
around the corner beneath the garden wall,”
she directed the boy. A few minutes later
she withdrew the bolt of a door in the rear
of the mansion.

«God keep you, my child,” she said.

There was no embrace, no display of emotion.
The strong Puritan heart, the clear Puritan
head, the indomitable Puritan will, sent out this
girl, dear to her as her own child, to do her
part for her country, as many a mother was
sending her son to suffer or to die.

While the British general and his officers
danced and caroused through the hours of that
night, three miles distant, on the other side
of the river, kept watch “the noblest figure
82 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

that ever stood in the forefront of a nation’s
life.” |

At sunset there had been signs of increasing
cold. To all human prescience only in a sharp
frost lay the hope that the sore sickness with
which the little army was smitten would be
ended. Familiar enough to one accustomed
to the havoc wrought by the pestilential swamps
of the Southern lowlands, the “shaking fever”
struck terror, from its very strangeness, to the
hearts of men born and bred in the pure bracing
air of New England.

But as the last of Lord Percy’s boon com-
panions staggered from the stately mansion by
Boston Common, there where the Charles
twisted itself through the Cambridge meadows,
Washington turned from the window with a
sigh, for he knew that not for many a day
would come the frost to heal the bitter sickness.
Yet even then, the darkest hour of the struggle,
the faith of the great leader did not falter.

“How it will end, God in His great goodness
will direct,” he said.
CHAPTER VI.
THE BROAD ARROW.

THE silence between Nanny and her compan-
ion was unbroken till they reached the deserted
wharf, and Anthony assisted her to a place in
the canoe.

«The paddle should be muffled,’ he whis-
pered. ‘I may find a piece of old sail-cloth
above.”’ He rose to pull himself up to the wharf.

«Wait a minute,” returned Nanny, softly,
and directly there fell at the boy’s feet some-
thing soft and warm. It was the little rebel’s
petticoat.

It was not till he had landed her on the
Chelsea shore that the boy spoke again.

“You don’t think me, now, an ‘execrable
parricide ?’” he questioned.

“Not now,” whispered Nanny. Then she
hastened forward over the wind-swept marshes.

83
84 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

At nightfall, the following day, she was set
down in Portsmouth, at the door of the Mar-
quis of Rockingham. Without delay, Land-
lord Newhall set out on his return journey,



and presently Nanny had forgotten fatigue and
her strange surroundings in sleep. Early the
following morning she was aroused by a com-
motion below. The landlady and the maid-ser-
vants were in the tap-room, gathered about a
woman extended on the settle.
THE BROAD ARROW. 85

“Tt’s Mistress Tilton’s daughter,” explained
the maid to whom Nanny addressed herself.
«She’s walked every step of the way from
Falmouth,* where they’re cutting everybody’s
throats without by your leave. Oh, Lordy,
we shall all be murdered in our beds!”

Nanny leaned against the wall, sick and faint.
There rushed upon her the old tales of the
French and Indian Wars, many of the most
hideous tragedies of which had taken place in
the neighbourhood of her own home. There was
vivid in her mind the scenes of that terrible
seventeenth of June!

Presently Mrs. Tilton, after making her daugh-
ter comfortable in bed, returned to the tap-room,
and confirmed the maid’s incoherent utterances.
Two days ago, Falmouth had been surprised
by the appearance, in the offing, of five vessels.
They speedily warped up the harbour, and lay
in line before the town, when a letter from
Captain Mowatt, the commander of the squadron,
was sent ashore. It was to the effect that
unless, by nine o’clock, all the arms and ammu-
nition in the town were surrendered, Falmouth
would be destroyed. Falmouth employed the

1 Now Portland.
86 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

interval in removing the stores to a place of
safety, and sent back an uncompromising refusal.

Prompt on the hour, a blood-red pennant
went up to the masthead of the flag-ship, and
the bombardment began. Parties came on
shore to set buildings on fire, and to murder
the inhabitants in cold blood. With other
panic-stricken fugitives, Mrs. Tilton’s daughter
fled, and, after several days and nights of suf-
fering, at last reached Portsmouth.

“’Tis said our turn will come next,” said the
landlady. “Be that as it may, I stay here.
You will not fare farther?’’ she added, anx-
iously.

Nanny struggled with a terrible temptation.
Why not remain here in comparative safety till
the peril was over, or, at least, till more was
known with certitude?

Then there swept over her the thought of
the suffering army —of Boston in its extrem-
ity! She recalled her promise to her aunt and
her renewed vow. With a sudden sweep of
exaltation seemingly beyond the capacity of her
years, she felt herself one with those devoted
men who, in this cause, had ‘pledged their
lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honour.”
THE BROAD ARROW. 87.

And all the intensity of conscience, inherited
from her namesake of long ago, urged her for-
ward.

“You cannot go by the highway,” said
Mrs. Tilton. ‘The Britishers are like to land
anywhere along the coast !”

«Then I will go by the back country roads,”
returned Nanny, steadfastly. “I am no fine
lady, afraid of a little jolting,” she added. «TI
have taken many a long ride along our beaches
or through the forests, on a pillion behind my
father, watching the men fell the trees that
the brig Chusan was to carry to Spain and
Portugal.”

«What the Britishers left us!” grumbled the
landlady, whose patriotism had been mightily
increased by personal wrongs. “They were
aye fond of putting the broad arrow upon the
straightest, tallest pines in our forests, and woe
betide the man who cut down the tree on which
the crown surveyor had set his mark. But 'tis
not for pirates and cut-throats that we grow
our forests, and last May, when a brig from
England came into Portsmouth on its errand,
it was told to look elsewhere to supply the
dock-yards of Bristol and Aberdeen. We were
88 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

not alone in our defiance, and ’tis to punish
us for these actions, doubtless, that Mowatt
is laying waste the coast!”

Trade, and not the religious impulse —as
was the case with the other New England col-



onies — was the impelling motive that led to
the settlement of Maine. Hence, roads being
regarded as of more importance than meeting-
houses, a result of this difference was a fine
highway, stretching along the entire coast, such
THE BROAD ARROW. 89

as scarce another of the colonies could boast.
In the sparsely settled country farther inland,
however, the only means of communication
were cart-tracks, or, in the forest, mere bridle-
paths, “blazed”? by the woodman’s axe.

«“ The usual charge of the Marguts for a horse
is threepence a mile, but not a penny do we
take from the daughter of Simon Bradstreet,”
said the landlady. “You'll make the distance
by nightfall to the old Barnet garrison-house.
The Barnet folks will keep you overnight, and
set you on your way in the morning. Ports-
mouth folks and Boston folks were ever good
friends, and God save Boston in her need, say
I!” were the good woman’s parting words.

The old garrison-house had given refuge to
a party of fugitives from Falmouth, who re-
peated the tale of terror. But there was no
longer room for hesitation in Nanny’s mind,
and at an early hour the following morning
she set out on her journey through the forest.
The day was mild for the season, and, as it ad-
vanced toward noon, became oppressively warm.
Moss-grown boulders impeded her path, and the
bushes sent forth long shoots that caught her
gown, or stabbed her with dagger-like points.
90 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

Early frosts had cracked the ground, and the
succeeding thaw had converted these fissures
into trap-like bog-holes of uncertain depth.

All at once the horse stopped and turned
his head, saying, as plainly as animal could, that
the task was beyond equine powers. There
was no help for it! Nancy slipped from the
saddle, knotted the reins about his neck, and
stood watching him out of sight. Then she
continued her way afoot, trying to disregard
the pain in her injured ankle, that had already
given premonitory twinges. Her hands and
feet were soon torn and bleeding; every inch
gained was pain. By and by her ankle, the
pain become poignant, refused to bear her
weight. She went forward on her hands and
knees.

Her thoughts dwelt persistently on the little
flask of brandy in her bosom. A few sips of
the potent liquor would warm and cheer her,
but she combated the ever growing desire to
gain brief comfort for limbs and heart, at the
possible cost of her brain becoming less clear,
her will less dominant.

It was past midnight when she at last
emerged from the woods. Kennebunk lay
THE BROAD ARROW. gI

across the fields to the sea, only two miles dis-
tant. Not till then did she raise the brandy to
her lips.

Crouched by her father’s bedside, she told
him of Boston’s need.

«And I must lie here,—a useless hulk!
Curse the rascal who fired that shot!” muttered
Captain Bradstreet. «All the men who can
pull a rope, are aboard ship, except old Hank
Haff, and there’s not a seagoing craft in the
port ; though ’twould be, indeed, only Heaven’s
own chance that could enable a vessel to dodge
the scouting boats of the British fleet in Boston
Harbour, and land the stuff anywhere on the
Massachusetts coast. By land it must be, then,
though there’s nary horse in Kennebunk. We're
not fond, man or woman, of trusting ourselves
to a treacherous four-legged beast, when we
have the broad sea and a good ship to take us
whither we would. Deacon Tebbett’s ox-
team may not be a lively craft, but — ha, what’s
that?”

For the sound of a horse’s hoofs echoed
through the still morning air. In a place where
a horse was almost a fabled creature, the very
sound was momentous. Forgetful of pain,
g2 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

Nanny sprang to her feet and hastened to the
window.

“It’s somebody on a big white horse!” cried
she, breathlessly. “He is dismounting here.
Oh, father, it’s the boy I told you of. It’s
Anthony Severn!”

Almost instantly upon the words, Anthony
entered the room, hatless, bootless, coatless,
his shirt clinging in wet folds to his figure.
It was evident that he had ridden long and
hard.

“Lord Howe has despatched a messenger to
Portsmouth, sir,” he said, « where the squadron
of Captain Mowatt was expected to arrive day
before yesterday. Mowatt is ordered to proceed
at once to Kennebunk, and seize and destroy
twenty barrels of Jesuits’ bark, known to be
stored in the meeting-house. If removed, to
follow it up. At all hazards, to prevent its
reaching the provincial army.

“ His Excellency, General Washington, pre-
sents his compliments to Captain Simon Brad-
street. His Excellency desires me to say that
he relies upon Captain Bradstreet to get the
Jesuits’ bark, without delay, to Marblehead,
where a convoy of troops will be in waiting.”
THE BROAD ARROW. 93

“His Excellency may rely upon Simon Brad-
street,” returned the captain, simply.

He was looking intently at the lowering sky,
at the heavy cloud banks on the horizon.

“It’s Heaven’s own chance, a three days’
nor’easter,” he said at length. “Send for old
Hank Haff.”

“Now, boy,” said he, when his bidding was
done, “let’s hear your story.”

«°’Twas no easy thing for General Howe to
find a messenger to Mowatt, sir,” began the lad.
“The country is generally patriotic and on the
alert, and ’twould scarce be possible for a British
officer, however disguised, to make his way
from Boston to Portsmouth without detection.
At last a deserter from our army —”

«What's that!” interrupted the captain,
sharply.

“A New Hampshire man, sir. The cause
of his desertion was a grudge against General
Washington, himself. It seems that he was
at fisticuffs with one of the Marblehead men,
when his Excellency rode up in the midst of
the brawl, and, seizing either combatant by the
throat, shook and rated them soundly. The
New Hampshire man betook himself that night
94. A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

to the British outposts on the Neck, and was
made prisoner. At his own request he was
brought before Lord Howe. He was the man
they wanted.”

“Tt’s a pity his Excellency left a good job
half done,” muttered Captain Bradstreet. «May
a rope complete the choking, and may I be
present.”

“Mrs. Bradstreet, whom I immediately
acquainted with the development of matters,
now thought it time that General Washington
should be informed. ’Twas she, sir, who
planned for me to get to the provincial camp.”

“My brother’s wife has a head on her shoul-
ders,” assented the captain.

«General Ruggles has chafed not a little at
his fare since the siege. I made bold to sug-
gest that fresh fish might be an agreeable
change from pork and beans. He had no dif-
ficulty in procuring me a fishing pass from the
vice-admiral of the fleet, with liberty to get
bait on Governor’s Island. I rowed out as far
as Dorchester flats and landed. If I were
observed by any of the vessels in the harbour
—they keep a sharp lookout —I was digging
clams for bait. I worked gradually off from
THE BROAD ARROW. 95

the shore till it was dark; then climbing
Dorchester Heights, I was soon in the pro-
vincial camp.

“My story tallied, fortunately, with informa-
tion that his Excellency had already received
regarding Doctor Church’s treachery. A letter
writ by him to General Gage last spring, re-
vealing the weakness of the provincial army,
had just been placed in General Washington’s
hands.

“T was of light weight, accustomed to rid-
ing, — indeed, I once won the Newmarket for
his Grace, —and time was of the utmost im-
portance. His Excellency gave me a passport
and ordered his own magnificent charger to be
saddled. ‘There’s not his like in New England
—no, nor even in Virginia,’ said his black
servant, as he brought the horse to the door.
Faith, he might have added, ‘Nor in all
England.’

«How did you contrive to learn the enemy’s
plans?” questioned the captain.

“General Ruggles was presented with a load
of fire-wood from some buildings just torn down,”
answered the boy, after a momentary hesitation.
“Tt was my work to saw the joists and planks
96 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

into suitable lengths for the fireplace. The
shed was next my master’s study. I contrived
to bore a hole through the partition, and as I
piled the wood I leaned some stout bits of
timber against the rear wall so as to form a
sort of lean-to, about big enough for a rat to
crawl through, taking care to conceal the en-
trance. Whenever my master had visitors I
wriggled along this passage, and put my ear to
the augur hole. I was never absent from my
task more than a few minutes at a time, so no
suspicion was aroused. There was even talk
about sending me on the errand to Portsmouth,
but the hazard was deemed too great. They
honoured me by saying I should be taken for
my Lord Percy,” added the boy, with a smile.

«We shall have further need of your services,
my lad,” said the captain. «“That’s old Hank’s
step.”

Then, as now, the finest sailors in the world
were born and bred on the coast of Maine.
Then, as now, from Kittery to Eastport, along
its fir-crowned cliffs and the endless intricacies
of its fiords and island-dotted bays, no name,
borne from father to son, was held in higher
honour than that of Hank Haff.
THE BROAD ARROW. 97

“Hank, can you swim?” asked Captain Brad-
street, with grim significance.

« What call hev I ter know how ter swim?”
responded the old sailor, indignantly. « Only
landlubbers need learn how ter swim. [I calker-
late ter keep in the boat.”

«Will you sail for Marblehead in your sloop
this afternoon ?”’

“Cap'n, if them’s the orders, [ll sail fer
hell! —an’ hell it'll be, outside, afore dark,”
said Hank Haff, solemnly.
CHAPTER VII.
THE REBECCA AND POLLY.

“A BRITISHER’S mind isn’t rigged like a
Yankee’s. It sails best on a straight course;
it doesn’t come natural to veer and _ tack.
There’s none of Mowatt’s men as good at
following a trail as our backwoodsmen, but
Deacon Tebbett’s ox-team will make tracks a
blind man could see,” chuckled the captain. “If
the Rebecca and Polly can slip under the Brit-
ishers’ noses, I'll answer for it that not a ship
in Mowatt’s squadron —no, nor in the Royal
Navy — dare follow outside Cape Porpoise. A
nor’easter on our coast is no joke, even to the
men of our parts; and it isn’t every man
amongst us who could bring a ship through it
from here to Marblehead — let alone a little
fishing-sloop, single-handed. But the man who
can do it is old Hank Haff!

98
THE REBECCA AND POLLY. 99

«But you are running your head into a
noose, I fear, my boy!”

The jubilant note died out of Captain Brad-
street’s voice. In its stead was one of manly
sympathy, though his sense of duty would not
permit his regret, however poignant, to turn
him from the course that he saw plain and
open before him.

“T can give my life as well—-or maybe
better than many another, sir,” answered the
boy, simply. -“There’s no one to miss me if
they do hang me.”

« They'll scarce hang you fora spy in that rig,
at all events,” said the captain. Anthony was
dressed in some discarded clothes of his own.
« But Mowatt is a devil, afloat or ashore, and he
won't take kindly to a Yankee trick. Remember
that every league you lead the landing party
from the port gives old Hank a better chance.
Good-bye, my lad, and God be with you!”

Nanny had been a silent but intensely in-
terested listener to the colloquy between her
father and Anthony Severn. Exhausted though
she was, of rest she would not hear. She had
laid aside her wet garments for a frock partially
outgrown and left behind when she went to
IOO A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

Boston to be “finished ;” her hair hung below
her waist in a childish braid.

As Anthony turned to her with a silent bow
of farewell, she extended both her hands; tears
were in her eyes as she said, softly :



“Tf they take you, and —and do anything to
you, there is some one who will be very, very
sorry. If you come back, though it may be
years and years from now, there is some one
who will be very, very glad!”

Perhaps her words gave him courage; per-
haps he spoke out of the boldness with which
THE REBECCA AND POLLY. IOI

one who sees his last moments draw near lays
aside the conventionalities and fripperies of life,
and speaks out of his very heart. His face, too,
lost the moody look that sometimes, in repose,
marred its beauty.

«Tf I come back,” he said, “though it may
be years and years from now, I will come to
you and say what, a nameless nobody, I may
not speak of now. It will be the thought of
you that will give me courage to win a name
that shall ring as fair as that of Percy of
Northumberland!”

He bent his head low over her outstretched
hand, touched it lightly, reverently, with his
lips, and was gone.

Nanny still crouched by the window, her head
resting on the wide sill, watching, listening,
waiting, through the long hours of that morn-
ing. In her waking moments, and in the dream-
like stupor of pain and exhaustion that now and
again overcame her, rang the words of the brave
old ballad, with a new and tender meaning, as
they would ring through all the changes of the
coming years :

“Earl Percy out of Northumberland
And a vow to God made he!”
102 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

Captain Bradstreet’s bed commanded a view
of the sea. During his confinement his chief
occupation and one consolation had been to
scan the horizon with his long telescope, partly
from lifelong habit and partly in hopes of see-
ing the brig Chuzan coming into port with
another prize in tow. No sail ever escaped his
watchful eye.

It was broad daylight when he saw a sail
looming up from under the horizon; soon an-
other sail lifted, and then others followed at
regular intervals in line ahead. There were
five in all, three fullrigged frigates and two
brigs. They had all sail set, and bowled along
with a bone in their teeth. There was no
doubting the nationality of the vessels, for the
English flag could now be plainly seen flying at
the peak. The two leading frigates and the two
brigs were regular men-of-war; the fifth was
evidently a store-ship, as she did not have any
broadside guns. It was apparent to the captain
that they were heading a direct course for an
anchorage off the town.

“Tt’ll take ’em till near noon to get in,” said
he. “They've nobody aboard, probably, who
knows the harbour, and there’s been no chart
THE REBECCA AND POLLY. 103

of the coast since Captain John Smith’s time —
and I shouldn’t advise anybody to cruise off
Cape Porpoise in a rising nor’easter with no
better guide than that.”

The ill tidings spread amongst the towns-
folk, and the women and children gathered on
the beach to watch the sight.

When about two miles from shore, the sailors
swarmed aloft and quickly hauled up and snugly
furled the mainsails. Then all the headsails
except the jib were hauled down and stowed.
They crept slowly along, under the jib, carefully
feeling their way to a safe anchorage, guided by
the soundings, which the leadsman in the port-
chains gave, in his singsong drawl, after each
cast of the lead. Coming to within a mile of
the shore, the jibs were hauled down and the
anchors let go, the vessels in line parallel with
the shore, and about half a cable’s-length
apart.

All the boats were then lowered into the
water, and as they were brought to the gang-
way were quickly filled with armed sailors and
marines. When all the boats were filled, they
were rapidly pulled ashore in regular man-of-
war order. Upon landing, the men were formed
104. A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

into companies, the whole command being under
the junior captain of the squadron. The crowd
on the beach had long ago dispersed, with the
exception of a few boys, in whom curiosity had
overcome fear, but who remained at a respectful
distance from the formidable array.

“Deacon Tebbett’s team must have gone
about two leagues,” said Captain Bradstreet,
calmly, as he laid down his telescope. «“’ Twill
soon be old Hank’s turn!”

Along the one street of the town marched
the bluejackets till they came to the meeting-
house. The captain, with one of his officers
and a file of men, entered the building. The
door beneath the high winding stairs of the pul-
pit, flung wide open, indicated the recent place
of concealment of the Jesuits’ bark. The two
officers stood in brief consultation by the rear
entrance, looking at the heavy cart-tracks re-
cently made in the mud. Certain other tracks
had been easily obliterated by a few shovel-
fuls of loose earth and two or three pails of
water.

“«?’Tis plain they got it out of the place as
soon as we came in sight. In fact, with the sea
that’s running outside, their only chance was »
THE REBECCA AND POLLY. 105

to take it by land, never thinking we’d got
wind of it. But they’ll find we’re not to be
caught napping! An hour at the double-quick
ought to bring us up with them. Remain here
with a squad of your men, and search every
house in the village, from attic to cellar.”

Straight ahead ran the road, the cart-tracks
plainly visible. Unaccustomed to walking as
were the sailors and marines, their progress
was made additionally difficult by the mire of
the road and their heavy accoutrements, so that
it required all the officers’ urging to keep them
at the double-quick. Meantime the search-
party went from house to house till it reached
Captain Bradstreet’s.

“ How do I know what’s going on outside?”
demanded the wounded sailor. “I put into
port a week ago, and if you want to learn any-
thing more of affairs in Kennebunk, you'll have
to ask somebody else!” and as no threat could
elicit anything further from Simon Bradstreet,
the officer left him under guard and continued
his search.

The midshipman left in charge of the boats
presently noticed a dory, with a solitary occu-
pant, putting out toward a little one-masted
106 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

fishing-sloop not far distant. The old man
was stepping leisurely aboard when hailed from
the shore.

“ Says he’s going out to the islands to look
after his lobster-pots, sir,” was the report. “It’s
coming on to blow hard, and he’s afraid they’ll
be swept out to sea.”

Permission was given for the old fisherman
to proceed.

The Rebecca and Polly passed under the
bows of the flag-ship.

“ Boat passing!” sang out the sentry to the
quartermaster, who reported to the officer of
the deck. “Answers lobster-pots, sir,” he
added, after a brief colloquy with the occupant
of the boat.

Had any suspicion of its real character
dawned upon the officers of the Canceau, every
gun on board would have been trained upon the
Rebecca and Polly, and she would have been
blown out of the water. But no further notice
was taken of the little sloop that slipped along
the length of the flag-ship and was soon far
away.

At the top of a long ascent, the main body
of the landing-party came in sight of the evi-
THE REBECCA AND POLLY. 107

dent object of their quest, —a cart drawn by
oxen, with a boy walking by their side. He
had apparently seen his pursuers, for he was
making a frantic effort to goad his unwieldy
team to greater effort. A musket-shot, ringing
close to his ears, gave the order to halt. He
cast a glance over his shoulder, hesitated ; then,
as a score of muskets were threateningly raised,
he checked the oxen, faced about, and, with
folded arms, calmly awaited the oncoming of
the British.

“What do you want of me, sir?” he in-
quired, imperturbably, as the captain panted
up the hill.

“We don’t want you, you Yankee whelp!”
cried the officer, “except to give you a sound
flogging for leading us on this infernal chase.
We'll take that!” he added, with a gesture
toward the cart.

“T don’t see what you gentlemen of the
Royal Navy want with a load of seaweed for
top-dressing that I’m taking to the folks up
along,” answered the boy, with unabated cool-
ness. ‘But as you’ve come some distance for
it, and your boots seem rather muddy, you may
have it, and welcome!”
108 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“No impudence, young sir,’’ frowned the
captain.

The lieutenant, meantime, had taken from
the cart the tarpaulin that was spread over its
contents. Nothing but dry seaweed was visi-
ble. With the discarded ox-goad the young
officer pried into the mass, turned it over and
over. He looked up to meet the same sudden
mistrust on the captain’s face that was visible
upon his own. ;

«Take out the oxen and let your men over-
turn the cart,” ordered the commanding officer.

Anthony, under the guard of two marines,
appeared quite unconcerned during this proce-
dure. Indeed, his gaze was directed out at

”

sea.

The contents of the cart lay by the roadside,
— seaweed, raked from the beach where the tide
had flung it high and dry. Nothing more.

«Where's that Jesuits’ bark?” cried the
captain.

The boy’s eyes, sparkling with triumph, con-
fronted the infuriated gaze of the officer.

“ There!” said he, pointing to a speck,
scarcely discernible, in the offing. “There —
where you won’t get it—in old Hank Haff’s
THE REBECCA AND POLLY. I0Q

sloop, making for Marblehead at ten knots an
hour !”’

A girl’s face, pressed against a window in
the port, looked down upon the returning force.
She saw only in their midst a boyish figure,
guarded by bayonets, and with pinioned arms,
yet marching with the air of a conqueror rather
than of a prisoner. His eyes sought the upper
window, and, steadfast as his own, met those of
the girl.

That was the last glimpse Nanny Bradstreet
had of Anthony Severn.

It was a dangerous position for Captain
Bradstreet, —the narrowest shave of his life,
he was wont, afterward, to declare. Under
ordinary circumstances he would probably have
been sent on board ship, and it is doubtful if
his rights as a prisoner of war would have been
respected. When the main body of the landing-
party reached the town, it was met by the mid-
shipman with the report :

« Signal for all on board been flying for the
last hour, sir!”

With two-thirds of the force on shore, there
was imperative need of haste, for the hurricane
would soon be upon them. In the general
IIo A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

signal to embark, Captain Bradstreet’s guard.
hastened to the boats with the rest.

Colonel Glover’s regiment —of Marblehead
men — had been despatched to serve as the con-
voy of the expected cargo. The significance
of the troops’ arrival had spread through the
hamlet, and every one was on the alert.

A little before midnight the gun boomed
from Fort Sewall that signalled the arrival of
the Rebecca and Polly.

That night Marblehead went mad.

The precious Jesuits’ bark was soon trans-
ferred to wagons, and on the road to Cambridge.
Thither, too, was borne old Hank Haff in an
“ armchair,” — formed of crossed palms, — to be
set down amid the huzzas of the Continental
camp.

«You have done well. I thank you, my
friend,” said Washington.

“The friend of Washington!” No Knight
of the Garter ever felt himself honoured by a
prouder title.

The winter remained a singularly mild one,
and but for the opportune arrival of the Jesuits’
bark, the entire provincial army might have
THE REBECCA AND POLLY. III

succumbed to the fever and ague. Its sickness
healed, in the early spring fortifications were
thrown up on Dorchester Heights, commanding
the besieged town, and on the seventeenth of
March, .1776, Washington, at the head of his
troops, rode down from the hills, crossed the
Neck, and entered Boston.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE BREAKFAST AT THE HANCOCK HOUSE.

“Have I your approval, madam? The
train, I trust, is not too long for so stately an
affair as this entertainment at the Hancock
House?”

Nanny turned her head to survey critically
the lustrous breadths of white brocade. Mrs.
Bradstreet regarded her critically.

“The patch is well placed. A little more
powder on the hair, Lucinda,” she directed the
negro slave woman. “The pearls become you
right well, child. The young gentlemen of our
sober Boston may find themselves outshone by
the dashing officers of Count d’Estaing’s suite. I
am in no haste to part with you, my child, but
the heiress of the richest sea-captain in New
England will never lack for suitors, and I would
fain see you married before I pass away.”

There was a note of sadness in Mrs. Brad-
II2
oy

hy
)



No EN

“NANNY TURNED HER HEAD TO SURVEY CRITICALLY
THE LUSTROUS BREADTHS OF WHITE BROCADE.” 113

BREAKFAST AT THE HANCOCK HOUSE. II5

street’s voice. Her husband had never re-
covered from the rigours of his confinement on
board the prison-ship, and died soon after the
evacuation of Boston.

“Tam shamefully old, am I not, to be still
unwedded?” returned the girl, smiling. “You
were wooed and married and a’ at fifteen,” she
went on, turning to her own image in the glass,
«cand I, tall and well grown though I am, am still
unsought! Seventeen to-day, —St. Botolph’s
day!” she added, under her breath, for there
were times when the dear childish fancy
returned in its old force, and the seventeenth
of June was one of them.

« Not unsought, Anne,” corrected her aunt,
gravely. “In my day, indeed, ’twas no common
thing to see a young and beautiful girl turn so
coldly from men whom any woman in Boston,
ay, any woman in the Colonies, might be proud
and happy to wed. Wereit not, in all the years
you have been under my roof, that you have
displayed the same indifference to every one
alike, I should e’en suspect you of cherishing
some secret image in your heart.”

Mrs. Bradstreet looked keenly at the girl,
who had suddenly turned away, and was en-
116 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

gaged in picking up fan and handkerchief and
scent-bottle.

“J feel like the butterfly when he emerges
from the cocoon, to find himself decked in all
the colours of the rainbow,” she said, gaily.
“The war, indeed, has passed from Boston, but
till it has passed from the entire country our
town will wear its sad-coloured raiment. But for
to-day, in honour of our French friends, we are to
deck ourselves in our richest apparel, our finest
jewels. I was thinking but now, dear aunt,”
went on the girl, ‘“‘of the time, three years ago,
when Lord Percy was to give his ball at the Han-
cock House. I remember the unmeasured scorn
I poured upon Bathsheba Church’s frailty. Poor
light-hearted, light-headed Bathsheba. She
loved, indeed, the present world too well! I
misdoubt me, now,” added Nanny, smiling, “if
a little envy did not lurk within our hearts at
the thought of our friend in her gay attire,
walking the minuet with Earl Percy, while we
nursed our patriotism, in linsey-woolsey, at
home. Hannah is happily married now, and
has remained a true Daughter of Liberty.”

“The child, in years, displayed the heart and
will of the woman of less strenuous times,”
BREAKFAST AT THE HANCOCK HOUSE. 117

returned her aunt, gravely. “Small wonder
had that dreadful journey cost you your life.
As it was, you were ill for weeks, and lame for
many months afterward.”

“My only grief was that I might not behold
General Washington, as he rode, that day,
through the town he had liberated!” said
Nanny. “The names of Church and Arnold
will form the darkest stain in the history of the
Revolution !”’ she added, gravely.

«Doctor Church’s fate was a strange one!”
mused Mrs. Bradstreet. “Confronted with the
evidence of his guilt, he attempted no denial.
His sentence was banishment, —one all too
light in view of his heinous crimes, the be-
trayal of his friend and of his country! The
vessel to the West Indies, on which he took
passage, was never heard of again; to this day
it is unknown whether it foundered at sea, or
was seized by pirates, and all on board com-
pelled to walk the plank. But enough of
reminiscence! I would not cloud your pleas-
ure with sad memories, and Madam Hancock
likes not her young guests to be tardy.”

“T trust she will deign to approve my appear-
ance,” smiled Nanny. ‘ You know our gover-
118 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.



nor’s lady has been heard to say that she would
never forgive a young girl who did not dress to
please, nor one who seemed pleased with her
dress.”

John Hancock had come to his own again.
He was no longer the proscribed rebel, but the
honoured governor of Massachusetts.

The master and mistress of the finest man-
sion in New England knew well how to keep
the state becoming to the first magistrate of the
province. Childless herself, Madam Hancock
loved to surround herself with a little court, and
several of the daughters of her kinsfolk, and of
friends in Boston, were generally to be found
as guests at the Hancock House.

As she crossed the Common, to Nanny’s
surprise, she observed an unusual commotion
about the upper terrace, which, as she drew
nearer, appeared to have its origin within the
mansion. The stately dignity of the Hancock
House was never known to be marred by haste
or disturbance, but, to her amazement, she now
beheld the numerous servants, the governor’s
life-guard, and even several people whom she
recognised as guests, hurrying to the Common
laden with ewers, mugs, bowls, pails, — in fact,
BREAKFAST AT THE HANCOCK HOUSE. II9g

every available utensil seemed to have been
seized upon, not even excepting the porringers
and tankards of the governor’s prized pewter
service, and the silver punch-bowls and pitchers
with the “tower mark” on which it was known
that my lady set extraordinary value. From
the steward of the mansion, whom Nanny found
in the midst of the excitement, she procured an
explanation of this extraordinary scene.

It appeared that there had been a mistake in
the number of the expected guests. The invi-
tation from the governor to Count d’Estaing had
included thirty of his officers. The admiral
had misread the figures, and sent an acceptance
of his Excellency’s “ bounteous hospitality ”’ to
himself and his officers, supposing that it in-
cluded those of the entire fleet, — not excepting
the midshipmen,—in number amounting to
three hundred !

The information of the error had reached the
Hancock House only that morning; the break-
fast hour was at eleven. Ten times the expected
number of guests must be provided for, or the
courtesy due from the governor of Massachusetts
to a guest of state, would be at fault. It was
even possible that at a critical juncture the
120 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

sorely needed help of France might be with-
drawn — weightier effects had been wrought by
more trivial causes. Worst of all, a stigma
would be cast upon the hospitality of the
Hancock House!

The mistress of the mansion proved equal to
the occasion ; wagons were despatched into the
country for fruit and vegetables.

“ Milk all the cows on the Common,” com-
manded Madam Hancock. i

Another difficulty presented itself. Nearly
everybody in Boston kept a cow in the Com-
mon pasture. Numerous though the governor’s
retainers were, it was speedily found that the
number of those who knew how to milk was
inadequate to the occasion.

“Give me, too, a pail,” said Nanny. “I
have not forgotten how to play the milkmaid!”

It was no time to demur. The governor’s
great silver loving-cup was brought her, and
Nanny, tucking the long train of her gown
under her arm, hastened over the way.

« You — Mistress Bradstreet!” exclaimed
the captain of the body-guards, as the girl
appeared on the Common.

«Why not? Ican milk as well as another!
BREAKFAST AT THE HANCOCK HOUSE. 121

answered Nanny, merrily. “Our old minister,
at home, gave me a fine calf, when I was a
child,” she explained. “They would not let
me milk her, despite my entreaties, saying I
would spoil the pretty creature. But by means
of rising early and stealing out before the
household was astir, I learnt the art, by my-
self. Perhaps a little instruction to these gen-
tlemen may not be amiss!” she added, smiling.

The cows had of course been milked that
morning, at the usual hour, six o’clock; and
though evidently surprised at the novel pro-
cedure of milking them again a few hours later,
they submitted meekly to the process, when
approached by experienced hands. In other
cases, they did not fail to show their resent-
ment. The difficulty of the novice was increased
by the fact that it was a warm morning, flies
were numerous, and the cows unusually restive.
Many a foaming tankard and ewer was upset
before the milkman could withdraw from his
dangerous proximity, and the governor's great
silver tankard — hitherto devoted exclusively to
hot punch — received a blow from the hoof of a
hitherto gentle “bossy” that left an inefface-
able dent as a memorial of that famous June
I22 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

breakfast. Nanny’s deft fingers were soon in
demand, and her instructions to assistants in
their gay uniforms formed a merry part of the
novel scene.

« You must not do that — the cow won’t give
down the milk. So, so! Use the whole hand
—not the thumb and forefinger. That is what
we call ‘stripping.’ It hurts the cow.”

Another young gentleman was walking per-
severingly after the cow, who as persistently
stepped away, just as the would-be milker
knelt by her side, —a scene that was causing
much laughter and not a few jeers from the
bystanders. Under the present auspices, in-
deed, cow and milkman bid fair to complete
the circuit of the Common, with the pail still
unfilled.

“T think you would succeed better if you
were on the right side of the cow,” suggested
Nanny, gently.

The heated and exasperated officer appeared
inclined to argue the matter with the con-
tumacious “ bossy.”

“Now, what possible difference can that
make to you?” he demanded, as the cow,
with a contemptuous whisk of her tail, again
BREAKFAST AT THE HANCOCK HOUSE. 123

moved from his neighbourhood. “Halt!” But
the animal showed herself indifferent even to
military discipline.

«“ Court-martial her, lieutenant!” called a
voice from the crowd.

«They are accustomed to being milked on
the right side,” explained Nanny. “No matter
how familiar a cow may be with the milker,
she will never allow him to approach on the
left side. So, bossy, so, bossy, so, so.” The
deep, thick foam on the quick stream of milk
that followed testified to the skilled hands
now at work.

- “They are coming, they are coming!”
The uncertain murmur swelled to the excited
utterance, and the crowd drew as near the
expected line of march as the guards would
allow. Too late to retreat, Nanny drew back
amid the throng of retainers to watch the
French admiral and his suite cross the Com-
mon, from the West Street entrance. It was
the most brilliant display ever witnessed in
Boston. “The Common seemed bedizened with
gold lace,” Madam Hancock was wont to say
afterward, in referring to the splendid scene.

With bared heads, Count d’Estaing and his
i24 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

officers ascended the flight of stone steps be-
fore the Hancock House. On its wide thresh-
hold stood the governor, resplendent in crimson
velvet and diamonds, and the governor’s lady,
arrayed in the famous India muslin that had
been woven to her express order.

In the drawing-room awaited the young ladies
who were to assist at the entertainment of the
guests.

Nanny crushed back the bitter disappointment
as she made her way to a back entrance and
slipped up a small staircase to the room set
apart for the accommodation of Madame Han-
cock’s little court. She viewed herself before
the mirror in dismay. Her elaborately dressed
hair was loosened by her exertions, on her
silken slipper was a green stain, left by the
deep June grass, and one of her long, black
lace mits had been somewhere dropped. ‘Tears ,
of dismay and fright came into the girl’s eyes.
She had doubly incurred her hostess’s dis-
pleasure in her disordered dress and unpardon-
able tardiness! Were it not wiser to slip down
the little back staircase and make the best of
her way home? For a moment she wavered.

Her place by the governor’s side, the seat
BREAKFAST AT THE HANCOCK HOUSE. 125

of honour, would be empty. Good and kind
though Governor Hancock was, she knew well
that an invitation to the Hancock House on
such an occasion was regarded as a matter of
state, and she dared not set aside the gov-
ernor’s will and pleasure. Summoning all her
courage, she passed slowly down the great
staircase and entered the deserted drawing-
room. The hum of voices from the banquet-
ing-hall beyond told her that the guests were
already at the table.

She drew aside the heavy silken draperies
that separated the two rooms. Her face and
figure thrown into strong relief against the
crimson background, she stood for a moment
measuring the distance to the farther end of
the long room. The young officer who occu-
pied the seat on the left of Madam Hancock
had risen, and, advancing to where she stood,
was proffering his escort.

What had happened? Time had gone back
three years, and she was at Lord Percy’s ball, —
the handsome, brilliant young earl was waiting
to lead her to the minuet. No, it was not
Lord Percy.

The whole brilliant scene swam before her.
126 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

Past and present mingled. She was back in
the upper room in the little seaport town, look-
ing through the chill rain upon a figure below,
guarded, with pinioned arms. The face was
upraised to hers. Through her brain throbbed
the words of Chevy Chase:

“ Earl Percy out of Northumberland,
And a vow to God made he!”

The vow had been kept, and before her
stood Anthony Severn.

Though the story of two lives was completed
in that breathless second, and the eyes of all
present were upon them, those who watched
only saw the belated guest rest the tips of her
fingers on the arm of the admiral’s young aid.
Together they paced the length of the great hall.

« Small wonder Boston men are brave, when
Boston women are so fair!” whispered more
than one gallant guest. “A seemly pair!”
said others.

They reached the vacant seat at the gov-
ernor’s side, and as the young officer bowed
low before her, and Mistress Bradstreet curt-
seyed her thanks, she raised her eyes to his.
There was no need of words to say :
Ra
Nase!



“sue STOOD FOR A MOMENT MEASURING THE DIS-
TANCE TO THE FARTHER END OF THE LONG
ROOM.” 3 127
et

ep


BREAKFAST AT THE HANCOCK HOUSE. 129

“There is some one who is very, very
glad!”

Afterward, as the governor’s guests wandered
through the gardens of Hancock House, the
admiral’s aid and Nanny Bradstreet found
themselves together in the little summer-house
on the upper terrace. There Anthony Severn
told his story, passing lightly over the earlier
portion, of Captain Mowatt’s rage and threats
of vengeance; then, because the service lacked
men, he was promised his life on condition of
his entering the Royal Navy. On his refusal to
accept the terms of his captors, “knowing
indeed,” he added, smiling, “ not one rope from
another,” he was thrown into the hold, till his
contumacy should be weakened. There, in the
stirring events that followed, he was forgotten,
and would probably have starved to death, had
it not been for the compassion of the boatswain.
How long a time was passed in this confine-
ment he could not tell. At last he was taken
to England, and thrown into the prison at
Millbank. It was not long, however, before
he succeeded in making his escape across
the Channel. The American commissioners
were at that time in Paris, endeavouring to
130 A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

enlist the aid of France in the American
interests.

Anthony told his story to Mr. Franklin, by
whom his great service to the patriot cause was
promptly recognised ; for a period he remained
in the service of the American statesman.
Then, when the fleet under Count d’Estaing
was fitting out for America, at Anthony’s re-
quest Mr. Franklin procured him a position in
the immediate service of the admiral, who,
aman of genial temper and warm friendship
for the struggling Colonies, showed, in every
available way, his interest in his young aid.
How Anthony’s heart had leaped when the
French fleet was at last headed for Boston,
could scarce have been told in words.

«Tt was St. Botolph who brought you
hither,” whispered Nanny, at parting, “St. Bo-
tolph guard you and aid you till we meet
again!”

Anthony Severn’s opportunity soon came to
win a name that might well dim the prowess
of the hero of Chevy Chase. He led the
French land forces at the desperate storming
of Savannah, where, three times repulsed, the
gallant young leader renewed the attack, to
BREAKFAST AT THE HANCOCK HOUSE. I3I1

plant at last, upon the ramparts of the Southern
town, the banner under which he served.

When, shortly after, D’Estaing returned to
France, Anthony received an appointment on
Washington’s own staff, for the great leader
had not forgotten the boy who did such early
and momentous service for the patriot cause.
His later career, as statesman, standing stead-
fast at Washington’s side in those first trying
years of the young republic, is part of the his-
tory of our country.

A twelvemonth after the breakfast at the
Hancock House, Anthony Severn and Nanny
Bradstreet were married, on St. Botolph’s Day
—the day of the good saint who saved Boston.

THE END.
L. C. Pace & Company’s

Cosy Corner Series

OF

Charming Juveniles

£
Each one volume, J6mo, cloth, Illustrated, 50 cents

£

Ole Mammy’s Torment, By ANNIE FELLows-JouNsTon,
Author of “ The Little Colonel,” etc.

The Little Colonel. By ANNIE FELLOws-JoHNSTON.
Author of “ Big Brother.”

Big Brother. By ANNIE FELLOwsS-JOHNSTON.
Author of “ The Little Colonel,” etc.

The Gate of the Giant Scissors. By ANNIE FELLOows-
JOHNSTON.
Author of “ The Little Colonel,” etc.

Two Little Knights of Kentucky, who were “The Little
Colonel’s” neighbors. By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON.
A sequel to “ The Little Colonel.”

The Story of Dago. By ANNIE FELLOWS-JOHNSTON.
Author of “The Little Colonel,” etc.

Farmer Brown and the Birds, By FRANCES MARGARET
Fox. A little story which teaches children that the birds
are man’s best friends.
Cosy Cornet Seties — Continued.

For His Country. By MARSHALL SAUNDERS.
A beautiful story of a patriotic little American lad.

A Little Puritan’s First Christmas, By EpirH ROBINSON.

A Little Daughter of Liberty, By Epirn Rosinson.
Author of “A Loyal Little Maid,” “A Little Puritan
Rebel,” etc.
A true story of the Revolution.

A Little Puritan Rebel. By EpirH Rosrnson.
An historical tale of a real girl, during the time when the
gallant Sir Harry Vane was governor of Massachusetts.

A Loyal Little Maid, By Epirn Ropinson.

A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary days,
in which the child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, renders im-
portant services to George Washington and Alexander
Hamilton.

A Dog of Flanders, A CuRistmas Story. By Louise
DE LA RAMEE (Ouida).

The Nurnberg Stove. By LoviszE DE LA RAMEE (Ouida).
This beautiful story has never before been published at a
popular price.

‘The King of the Golden River. A Lrcenp or Sviria.
y JOHN RUSKIN.
Written fifty years or more ago, this little fairy tale soon
became known and made a place for itself.

La Belle Nivernaise. THE Story or AN OLD BoAT AND
Her Crew. By ALpHonse DAUDET.
It has been out of print for some time, and is now offered
in cheap but dainty form in this new edition.

‘The Young King. The Star Child.
Two stories chosen from a recent volume by a sifted
author, on account of their rare beauty, great power,
and deep significance.

A Great Emergency. By Mrs. Ewine.

The Trinity Flower. By Juttana Horatia EwInc.
In this little volume are collected three of Mrs. Ewing’s
best short stories for the young people.
Cosy Corner Series — Continued.

Stoty of a Short Life. By JuLtana Horatia EwIne.
This beautiful and pathetic story is a part of the world’s
literature and will never die.

Jackanapes. By Jutiana Horaria Ewin.
A new edition, with new illustrations, of this exquisite and
touching story, dear alike to young and old.

‘The Little Lame Prince. By Miss Mutocx.
A delightful story of a little boy who has many adventures
by means of the magic gifts of his fairy godmother.

‘The Adventures of a Brownie. By Miss Mutock.
The story of a household elf who torments the cook and
gardener, but is a constant joy and delight to the children.

His Little Mother. By Miss Mutock.

Miss Mulock’s short stories for children are a constant
source of delight to them, and “ His Little Mother,” in
this new and attractive dress, will be welcomed by hosts
of readers.

Little Sunshine’s Holiday. By Miss Mutock.
“Little Sunshine” is another of those beautiful child-
characters for which Miss Mulock is so justly famous.

Wee Dorothy. By Laura UpprEcrarr.
A story of two orphan children, the tender devotion of the
eldest, a boy, for his sister being its theme.

Rab and His Friends. By Dr. Joun Brown.
Doctor Brown’s little masterpiece is too well known to

need description.

The Water People. By Cuartes LEE SLEIGHT.
Relating the further adventures of “ Harry,” the little hero
of “The Prince of the Pin Elves.”

The Prince of the Pin Elves. By Cuas. Ler Siricur.
A fascinating story of the underground adventures of a
sturdy, reliant American boy among the elves and
gnomes.

Helena’s Wonderworld. By Frances Hopcrs WuITE.
_A delightful tale of the adventures of a little girl in the
mysterious regions beneath the sea.
Cosy Cornet Series — Continued.

The Adventures of Beatrice and Jessie. By RICHARD
MANSFIELD.
A bright and amusing story of the strange adventures of
two little girls in the “ realms of unreality.”

A Child’s Garden of Verses. By R. L. STEVENSON.
This little classic is undoubtedly the best of all volumes of
poetry for children.

Little King Davie. By NELLIE HELLIs.
It is sufficient to say of this book that it has sold over
110,000 copies in England, and consequently should well
be worthy of a place in “ The Cosy Corner Series.”

Little Peterkin Vandike, By CHARLES STUART PRATT.

The author’s dedication furnishes a key to this charming
story.

Sa: donee this book, made for the amusement of the
boys who may read it, to the memory of one boy, who
would have enjoyed as much as Peterkin the plays of
the Poetry Party.”

The Making of Zimri Bunker, A TALE or NANTUCKET.
By W. J. Lone.

The story deals with a sturdy American fisher lad during
the war of 1812.

‘The Fortunes of the Fellow. By Wirt ALLEN Drom-
GOOLE. A sequel to “The Farrier’s Dog and His
Fellow.”

The Fartier’s Dog and His Fellow. By WILL ALLEN
DROMGOOLE.
This story, written by the gifted young Southern woman,
will appeal to all that is best in the natures of her many
admirers. :

The Sleeping Beauty. A Moprern Version. By MarTHa
B. Dunn.
A charming story of a little fishermaid of Maine, intellect-
ually “asleep,” until she meets the ‘‘ Fairy Prince.”

The Young Archer, By CHarLes E. BRIMBLECOM.
A strong and wholesome story of a boy who accompanied
Columbus on his voyage to the New World.
L. C. Pace & Company’s
Gift Book Series

FOR

Boys and Girls
*

Each one volume, tall 12mo, cloth, Ilfustrated, $1.00
F

The Little Colonel’s House Party. By ANNIE FELLows.
JOHNSTON.
Author of “ Little Colonel,” etc. Tilustrated by E. B. Barry.
Mrs. Johnston has endeared herself to the children by her
charming little books published in the Cosy Corner
Series. Accordingly, a longer story by her will be
eagerly welcomed by the little ones who have so much
enjoyed each story from her pen.

Chums. By Maria LouIsE PooL.
Author of “Little Bermuda,” etc. Illustrated by L. J.
Bridgman.
“Chums” is a girls’ book, about girls and for girls. It re-
lates the adventures, in school, and during vacation, of
two friends.

Three Little Crackers, FROM Down IN Dixig. By WILL
ALLEN DROMGOOLE.
Author of “The Farrier’s Dog.” boys and girls, of the adventures of a family of Alabama
children who move to Florida and grow-up in the South.

Miss Gray’s Girls; oR, SUMMER DAYS IN THE SCOTTISH
HIGHLANDS. By JEANNETTE A. GRANT.

A delightfully told story of a summer trip through Scot-
land, somewhat out of the beaten track. A teacher,
starting at Glasgow, takes a lively party of girls, her
pupils, through the Trossachs to Oban, through the
Caledonian Canal to Inverness, and as far north as
Brora.
Gift Book Series for Boys and Girls — Continued.

King Pippin: A Srory ror CHILDREN. By Mrs. GERARD
ForD.

Author of “ Pixie.”

One of the most charming books for young folks which
has been issued for some time. The hero is a lovable
little fellow, whose frank and winning ways disarm even
the crustiest of grandmothers, and win for him the affec-
tion of all manner of unlikely people.

Feats on the Fiotd: A TALE oF NorWEGIAN LIFE. By
HARRIET MARTINEAU.

This admirable book, read and enjoyed by so many young
people, deserves to be brought to the attention of parents
in search of wholesome reading for their children to-day.
It is something more than a juvenile book, being really
one of the most instructive books about Norway and
Norwegian life and manners ever written.

Songs and Rhymes for the Little Ones. Compiled by Mary
WuITNEY Morrison (Jenny Wallis).

New edition, with an introduction by Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney.

No better description of this admirable book can be given
than Mrs. Whitney’s happy introduction :

“One might almost as well offer June roses with the as-
surance of their sweetness, as to present this lovely little
gathering of verse, which announces itself, like them, by
its own deliciousness. Yet, as Mrs. Morrison’s charming
volume has long been a delight to me, J am only too
happy to declare that it is to me—and to two families
of my grandchildren—the most bewitching book of
songs for little people that we have ever known.” .

The Young Pearl Divers: A Story of AUSTRALIAN AD-
VENTURE BY LAND AND By Sea. By Ligur. H.
PHELPS WHITMARSH.

This is a splendid story for boys, by an author who writes
in vigorous and interesting language, of scenes and ad-
ventures with which he is personally acquainted.

The Woodtanger. By G. WALDO BROWNE. |
The first of a series of five volumes entitled “ The Wood-
ranger Tales.”
Although based strictly on historical facts the book is an
interesting and exciting tale of adventure, which will
_ delight all boys, and be by no means unwelcome to their
elders.
Gift Book Series for Boys and Girls — Continued.

Three Children of Galilee: A LIFE oF CHRIST FOR THE
Younc. By Joun Gorpon.

‘There has long been a need for a Life of Christ for the
young, and this book has been written in answer to this
demand. That it will meet with great favor is beyond
question, for parents have recognized that their boys and
girls want something more than a Bible story, a dry
statement of facts, and that, in order to hold the atten-
tion of the youthful readers, a book on this subject
should have life and movement as well as scrupulous
accuracy and religious sentiment.

Little Bermuda. By Maria LouIsE Poot.

Author of “ Dally,” “A Redbridge Neighborhood,” “Ina
Dike Shanty,” “ Friendship and Folly,” etc.

The adventures of “Little Bermuda” from her home in
the tropics to a fashionable American boarding-school.
The resulting conflict between the two elements in her
nature, the one inherited from her New England ances-
try, and the other developed by her West Indian sur-
roundings, gave Miss Pool unusual opportunity for
creating an original and fascinating heroine.

The Wild Ruthvens: A Homer Story. By Curris York.
A story illustrating the mistakes, failures, and’ successes of
a family of unruly but warm-hearted boys and girls.
They are ultimately softened and civilized by the influ-
ence of an invalid cousin, Dick Trevanion, whe comes to

live with them.

The Adventures of a Siberian Cub. Translated from the
Russian of Slibitski by LEON GOLSCHMANN.

This is indeed a book which will be hailed with delight, es-
pecially by children who love to read about animals.
The interesting and pathetic adventures of the orphan-
bear, Mishook, will appeal to old and young in much the
same way as have “ Black Beauty” and “ Beautiful Joe.”

Timothy Dole. By JUNIATA SALsBURY.

The youthful hero, and a genuine hero he proves to be,
starts from home, loses his way, meets with startling ad-
ventures, finds friends, kind and many, and grows to bea
manly man. It is a wholesome and vigorous book, that
boys and girls, and parents as well, will read and enjoy.
Gift Book Series for Boys and Gitls — Continued.

The Young Gunbearer. By G. WALDO Browne.

This is the second volume of “The Woodranger Tales.”
The new story, while complete in itself, continues the
fortunes and adventures of “ The Woodranger’s ” young
companions.

A Bad Penny. By JoHn T. WHEELRIGHT.

A dashing story of the New England of 1812. In the
climax of the story the scene is laid during the well-
known sea-fight between the Chesapeake and Shannon,
and the contest is vividly portrayed.

The Fairy Folk of Blue Hill: A Srory oF FOoLK-Lorr.
By Lity F. WESSELHOEFT.

A new volume by Mrs. Wesselhoeft, well known as one of
our best writers for the young, and who has made a host
of friends among the young people who have read her
delightful books. This book ought to interest and ap-
peal to every child who has read her earlier works.
Selections from
L. C. Pace & CompPpaNy’s
Books for Young People

-

Old Father Gander; or, THE BETTER-HALF OF MOTHER
Goosr. RHYMES, CHIMES, AND JINGLES scratched from
his own goose-quill for American Goslings. Illustrated
with impossible Geese, hatched and raised by WALTER
Scotr Howarp.

1 vol., oblong quarto, cloth decorative . a . $2.00

The illustrations are so striking and fascinating that the
book will appeal to the young people aside from the fact
even of the charm and humor of the songs and rhymes.
There are thirty-two full-page plates, of which many are
in color. The color illustrations are a distinct and suc-
cessful departure from the old-fashioned lithographic
work hitherto invariably used for children’s books.

The Crock of Gold: A New Boox or Farry TALES.
By S. BARING GOULD.

Author of “ Mehalah,” “ Old Country Life,” “Old English
Fairy Tales,” etc. With twenty-five full-page illustrations
by F. D. Bedford.

1 vol., tall 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top. . $1.50

This volume will prove a source of delight to the children
of two continents, answering their always increasing de-
mand for “ more fairy stories.”

Shireen and Her Friends: Tur AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A

PERSIAN Cat. By GorDON STABLES.

Illustrated by Harrison Weir.

1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative $1.25

A more charming book about animals Dr. Stables himself
has not written. It is similar in character to “Black
Beauty,” “ Beautiful Joe,” and other books which teach
us to love and protect the dumb animals.
Ee © Pwcn 6c Conpanyes

Cosy Corner Series

Older Readers
+.

Memories of the Manse. By ANNE BREADALBANE. Illus
trated.

Christmas at Thompson Hall, By Anruony TROLLOPE.
A Provence Roses By Louise DE LA RAMé&E (OUIDA).

In Distance and in Dream. By M. F. Sweerser.
A story of immortality, treating with profound insight of
the connection between the life which now is and the life
which is to come.

Will o’ th: Mill, By Roprrr Louris STEVENSON.

An allegorical story by this inimitable and versatile writer.
Its rare poetic quality, its graceful and delicate fancy,
its strange power and fascination, justify its separate
publication.
2 23) Bees